#she was very against anything that - in her eyes - could fuck up dan's brain
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it started as a little joke but im actually very comfortable with the idea of daniel faraday smoking/consuming pot. i feel relaxed just thinking about it
#the phrasing of this comes across like im normally uncomfortable with pot and thats not true at all jhfdkjhds#lost headcanons#i think it would be good for him. help him relax#also i imagine this applies more to limbo dan than regular dan because He's Free#i hc that eloise Deeply Forbade daniel doing anything that can ''alter brain chemistry''#no drugs. no alcohol. no pot. not even the kinda drugs that doctors give you#she was very against anything that - in her eyes - could fuck up dan's brain#Well Funny How Things Turn Out Huh#anyways i think if dan were to have pot#he'd prefer it in food form rather than smoking it#miles: how can you eat brownies and cookies on the regular and still be this skinny#dan: one of life's many mysteries
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guess who wants to (honkai: star) rail another dragon man. there is also (un)fortunately no (star) railing in this.
written pre 1.3 so i’m making shit up for now. (this is also full of vidyadhara headcanons)
in which you find dan heng unable to sleep, you have an awkward conversation, and then he becomes somewhat dragon-brained. twice.
4.2K words (lmao this is way longer than i meant it to be)
you’re not the trailblazer, just another laddie aboard the express.
btw, i bullshited a good chunk of the dialogue and events, so apologies if this is shite. i might've also committed character vehicular manslaughter, in that he might be ooc. lol fingers crossed it's aight.
part 2’s finally up if you wanna read it here
despite the quiet of the night, you had drifted from your sleep. it had been painfully light as of recent, leaving you adrift in the shallows while you’d toss and turn for a comfortable position. could you really be blamed though? yes, the looming threat of phantylia had been taken out, and everyone from the express that went aboard the luofu had been reunited after what felt like weeks. but you were still in the thick of an intricate web of chaos. the threats were far from over, not with the stellaron still active. but at least for now, you had enough time in this brief respite to be able to not fucking sleep.
you rolled over. you were more or less itching with restlessness, sighing to yourself quietly over your woes of no sleep. you rose from your mussed bed and hobbled out of the room. it was a quaint little place—where you had stayed when it was just the express crew (minus dan heng), when you'd first met tingyun. after that, everything happened like a landslide. memories of her sudden death quickly boiled their way up. with each step you took, you stamped them back down again.
out in the small hallway, you made your way towards the small courtyard out the back. as you walked past the other rooms, you were a little jealous at the sounds of others sleeping. from mr. yang's and march’s respective rooms was the odd, soft snore. from stelle’s room, there was nothing (which was to be expected, as you often found her out messing with the cycrane systems at night). as you walked past dan heng’s room, you were expecting more silence—which you were of course met with, but also a slitted door. you peered through into the darkness. from the dim hallway light, it seemed he had also tried and failed at sleep if his abandoned, nest-like sheets were anything to go by.
you continued to the courtyard. once you cracked open the door, you were met with an unexpected sight. moonlight caught on the black, silken strands that spilt down his back. a glassy, teal tail coiled around his feet, almost glinting in the light with each of its subtle movements. dan heng, wearing his simple night clothes of old, baggy slacks and a tight, black tank top. his ears twitched as you slid the door open further. when you stepped onto the stone tiles, he cast you an over-shoulder glance—a new habit he’d picked up recently.
"can’t sleep either?" you asked him softly, approaching from behind.
the only response he gave was a strained groan, dragging a hand over his face.
"i take that as a no, then," you said, moving over to sit in another stool at the small table just next to him. as you went past, his tail wound tighter around the foot of his seat.
"i take it that it’s the same for you," he muttered in reply, jade eyes cast somewhere on the ground between him and you.
"yep." you leaned against the table next to you, arm propping up your head. your eyes flickered to his face. "and not because i’ve been up playing gacha games."
he briefly met your gaze, eyebrows quirked in doubt.
"okay, i don’t do it anywhere near as much as stelle."
"right," he said with the faintest hint of a smile. the tip of his tail twitched in amusement. "her room was very quiet when i walked past, though. perhaps she’s mended her ways."
"i think she’s out screwing with the cycranes instead, actually."
"of course she is," he breathed as he raked a hand through his long hair. as you watched it pass through the delicate tresses, you stared intently at his claws. after his initial transformation, to say you were floored was an understatement. perhaps more like you were punched 50,000 feet below sea level. he could really only be described as beautiful, but even that word couldn’t quite capture his ethereality. even when he was as exhausted as he looked now, he still seemed to glow—quite literally, too. his eyes and those horns atop his head shone faintly in the dark. when someone was that pretty, how could one not be reduced to a staring fool? particularly you. as of recent, you’ve ended up forgetting you’re supposed to actually talk to him when he’s with you. and if you did remember to ever say anything, you’d make a fool of yourself.
he watched your gaze affixed to his hands. he took one look at them and then wrung them in his lap, looking off to the side with an unreadable emotion in his eyes.
"ah, i’m sorry—" you began, but he quickly cut you off.
"it’s fine," he said hurriedly, tail coiling up tighter.
"no, really. i know i’ve been acting pretty weir—"
"i said it’s fine. please, just leave it." he said again. he unwound himself just a little, but the tense line of his shoulders still had yet to dissipate. his gaze wandered a little more back towards you. "may i ask what’s keeping you up?"
you weren’t thrilled at the spontaneous topic change, but replied nonetheless. "just about everything, i guess. a lot’s been going on. it’s hard to take any time to rest with a stellaron still effectively looming overhead," you said. "though i could only imagine it’s about that, but tenfold for you, given the whole..." you gestured vaguely to his whole new look.
he dragged a hand down his face, rubbing his sleepy eyes in the process. "i don’t want to think about the stellaron for now…"
"agreed. shall we put a pin in that topic, then?"
"that would be ideal."
the two of you sat in more silence. you were (only half) guiltily back to staring at his features, eyes running over all parts of him. he seemed to shrink under your gaze, ears and tail twitching with thought. his eyes drifted up to look at you—oh, there was something new. his pupils must dilate or constrict based on what he was looking at. when his eyes met yours, you could have sworn they momentarily expanded, until his eyes flickered away again, waning right back to slits. at the same time, his ears angled themselves down just a touch.
"a—are you feeling okay?" you asked, tilting your head a little. he made a small groan and shelled further into himself. you didn’t think you had ever seen him that tense. "hey, look at me. are you alright?" your voice was as soft as you could make it. you tried to reach out to the arm he had leaning on the table, but it was in vain. he inched away moments before contact.
"i—" his tail-tip continued to flicker with apprehension.
"well, something else is definitely bothering you. can you talk to me about it?"
"m-must i?" he was almost hiding his face.
"only if you want to," you shuffled yourself a little closer to him. "but if it’s weighing this much on you, it may make you feel a little lighter. so you can sleep. y’know." while you spoke, you gestured somewhat vaguely. ever since his vidyadhara heritage was put on full display, he hadn’t quite been the same as you knew him. he was more tense than usual. on-edge and anxious, preoccupied with his own thoughts, much unlike the down-to-earth dan heng you normally knew. it worried you. he wasn’t even really speaking to mr. yang. with everything that had been going on, you could barely begin to imagine what sort of turmoils he had churning within him.
"i suppose one thing is that i’m simply not used to this form," he ran a clawed, slender finger up from the base of his horn to the tip. "there’s a strange disparity between feeling like i’ve known myself to be like this my whole existence, but also that i’m suddenly someone i’m not." as he spoke, his voice was quiet. "in a similar vein, it’s like my tail has a mind of its own. look at it," he grumbled while he picked it up into his lap. as he held it bundled in his arms, the tip hung over the side, twitching to and fro. "i’m not trying to make it do that. i can’t control it." he sighed, a slight growl in his throat.
"wouldn’t it do that because you’ve been so… frazzled, as of recent?"
"what makes you think that?"
"um…" how were you supposed to tell him that you only had that theory because you had been constantly stealing glances of him, watching his moods, watching his languid beauty. instead, you thought of some other bullshit answer. "i mean, it’d make sense, wouldn’t it? it’s like cats. their tails twitch when they’re irritated, and i’m sure they can’t quite control it."
he frowned a little, ears twitching downward. "i’m not a cat," he said, almost with a little pout.
maybe not, but he was certainly cute like one. "anyway, what you said about your new features…" you began, scratching the back of your head. to your surprise, he looked at you with eyes just a little wider than normal. "i could only imagine how weird it must be for you… who am i kidding, no i couldn’t. it’s probably downright foreign, but you’re dan heng. i’m sure you’ll have it under control in no time."
with his hands on his knees, he aimlessly grabbed at fistfuls of his loose pants. "you…" he muttered, wetting his lips as he swallowed thickly once again.
"me?" you echoed quietly.
"forgive me for asking something so asinine, but… what… do you think?" as he muttered out the words, you could have sworn his face was turning a light shade of pink. however, it was hard to tell under only the moon and the dim lights of the courtyard. what you could tell was that his tail-tip was twitching like a bundle of nerves.
you stared at him with owlish eyes. "what do i think of what?"
"what do you think of… me. as i am now?"
your breath caught in your throat for a moment as he stared at you with such apprehensive eyes. they were slitted from nerves, but they shone with the moonlight, expectation and most curiously, some sort of hope. "um…"
"i’ve noticed how much you stare at me, yet you said nothing when you first saw me, unlike mr. yang or march. now, you feel almost stilted when you’re with me, like you refuse to address what’s in front of you."
you swallowed hard at his words. "didn’t stelle also not…" you trailed off. you were doing it again, what he quite literally just said.
"i’ve spoken to her since then. i’m asking you." he seemed to have regained a little confidence, sitting up straighter and looking at you with the slightest bit more intensity.
now it was your turn to grab at fistfuls of your clothes. you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt as you spoke, heart pounding a mile a minute. "you’ve been truthful with me, so i guess i should too," you muttered. "you, ah, um…" this was really not the direction you thought this conversation would go in. "to be really honest with you, i keep staring because you’re so… pretty."
dan heng sat motionless. if it weren’t for his vidyadhara features, he almost could have gotten away with simply being frozen. upon your words, his eyes widened just a fraction, jade-white pupils dilating. his ears twitched back upwards and his tail fell still. heavy moments of silence passed while you two stared at each other. it seemed like he was waiting for you, so you kept talking. "i didn’t speak much to begin with simply because i was so surprised. i mean, we see you again after so long and there you are, just about the most beautiful thing i’d ever seen, suddenly with the power to split an ocean. after that, i didn’t trust myself to not be weird about you, so i… kind of just refused to say anything." you rubbed the back of your neck, face burning. "but i guess that plan fell flat on its face if you noticed me staring so much."
once you finished speaking, his gaze fell into his lap, gazing down at his hands that held fistfuls of fabric once again. "but… these powers aren’t me."
"of course not. they’re not you, only a fraction of the whole you," there was a slight smile on your lips. "are you worried that i don’t see you as dan heng anymore?"
he made no effort to confirm or deny anything, simply remaining as he was—a blatant yes for him.
a small smile made its way onto your face. "you’re always going to be one and only dan heng that the whole express—that i—know and love, no matter what other forms you take." you shuffled yourself closer to him once again, now finally able to reach out and brush your thumb over the back of his hand. as you sat there, your face was burning up at your words. did you really have to word it like that? if you really wanted to be honest with him, then yes.
he was still sat ramrod upright, but a blush now dusted his cheeks and his pupils were blown wide. his tail-tip was back to moving, this time wagging back and forth. he looked between you and your hand on his own, letting out a shaky breath. while he was still as nerve-wrecked as could be, a weight on his shoulders seemed to have been lifted. he looked like he was about to say something, but as soon as he opened his mouth, out came a long yawn. even though he tried to hide it with with his wrist, you still managed to catch a glimpse of his fangs.
"sorry," he muttered, rubbing one of his eyes. “also, you’re still staring."
"ah, i—i’m sorry, i’ve been acting so weird. i—that habit’s not gonna go away any time soon…" you yanked your hands back into your lap. he looked a little disappointed at the new lack of contact. "anyway, how do you think you’ll sleep now?"
"please do not worry about me. what about yourself?"
"um…" your heart is still pounding in your throat. "i—i don’t know, to be honest." whatever the answer was, it was bound to be ‘not well’.
"in the past, you’ve come to the archives when you haven’t been able to sleep. you’d place yourself on my bed and then ten minutes later, i’d find you fast asleep." his voice was soft when he spoke, almost with a faint note of mirth. "i wouldn’t mind if you…"
your eyes almost fell out of your head. "hold on, are you really—"
"you’re welcome to sleep next to me, if you’d like."
"like in your room?"
"where else?" when he stared at you, there wasn’t much obvious emotion on his face, but at the same time, he seemed so earnest with his tail-tip flicking back and forth happily.
"but i thought you found it annoying when i did that?"
"only because you'd wake me in the early hours of the morning. truly, i’ve never been opposed to it."
your face prickled with heat as you raked a hand through your hair. "are you sure you’re completely the same dan heng?"
"hey." he looked miffed.
"sorry, sorry." you were just about hiding your face in your hands by this point. "i just thought—" before you could finish, he stood up, long tail unwinding from around the seat. he took two steps and then plucked you off of your own chair. as you yelped in shock, he flopped you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “hey, what’re you—?!"
"would you stop being so adamant if i say it will help me sleep too?"
you gave up drumming on his back, only able to hang in embarrassment as you covered your face. your head may as well have been steaming. "wh—what the fuck is this?"
he made no reply as he marched you back inside. as he walked, you watched his tail-tip as it was curled upwards, swaying from side to side. his room was close—he opened the door with his foot, stepped in and slid it closed again with his tail. as soon as you were properly enclosed, he placed you onto the bed with unexpected gentleness. in the past, if you were causing trouble, his method of dealing with you was hauling you off somewhere and simply dropping you—now, it was the opposite. you were left dazed in the middle of the sheet-nest, only back to your senses once dan heng got in next to you. but instead of settling down for sleep like you anticipated, he was shuffling about on his knees, rearranging the sheets and pillows so they were in a better formation, according to him. he was even using his tail to smooth out the sheets into circular patterns.
"are you nesting or something?" you asked, bewildered.
with no reply, he finally settled down further up against the splayed pillows. "come." he held his arms open for you, but when you made no movement, his tail roped you in instead. you were drawn into his not-very-tight vice grip, trapped in next to him. he held you loosely around the waist with clasped hands, head placed atop your leg where he seemed to be using your side like a pillow. his horns poked into your stomach every time he nuzzled... he was really nuzzling you...
"dan heng, seriously, what’s gotten into you?"
with only a hum, he ceased his movements and craned his head up, staring at you from behind thick lashes. his pupils were still blown wide open. you couldn’t help but find it mildly foreboding.
"i don’t understand why you’re… so touchy. i thought you were normally allergic to contact?"
"is it not enjoyable?" he tilted his head. his fluffy hair flopped in his face with his movement. internally, one part of you was screaming YEEEES and crushing beer cans into your forehead, while the other, larger part of you was just plain screaming. you wanted to bask in this shower of attention, but at the same time, it felt so wrong—like he wasn’t really himself. whatever dragon-brain mindfuckery was going on in his head, it was certainly potent.
"it’s not that, i just… are you sure you’re thinking straight? or do i need to spell out the situation? because you’ve hauled me back to your bed, made a nest around me and are now cuddling me like a pillow."
dan heng blinked once, twice and then his body went rigid. he pushed himself off of you and leapt to the corner of the bed, crouched with his tail once again wound around him. "wh—what was i…?" he looked down at his hands as if they were soaked in blood. his face was flaring red with a blush.
"you seemed rather convinced i was something like your treasure hoard for a moment," you said.
upon your words, he sank his head in his hands, and whatever noise he made in embarrassment sounded like a groaning sob. "forgive me, i don’t know what came over me…"
"some kinda vidyadhara instinct?” it was almost like he was trying to court you.
"something like that," he muttered from behind his hand that now covered his mouth. his gaze was fixed to a random point before him and his ears were down-turned. "i… i’ve never felt it that strong before."
"wait, you’ve felt it befo—?" right before you could finish, his tail silenced you, thwacking itself against your lips. meanwhile, he was hiding his face again. with the way his shoulders hunched, you were worried—he seemed genuinely distressed. it was a miracle he hadn’t run off somewhere by that point. with a concerned frown, you took his tail in hand and spoke again. "hey, um, this might not help whatsoever, but it was actually… rather nice when you did that." you struggled to look at him. if you called it cute like it was, you’d just be blowing whatever chance you had at keeping him in place.
he looked over at you, ears perked up. his incredulous eyes went as wide as could be, almost like two moons. a moment passed, and the tail in your hands began to sway. "really?"
"really," you nodded. "it was just shocking to begin with, but i—if you want, you can do it again."
dan heng turned his body to face you, swallowing thickly and trying to meet your gaze. he was stuck dithering for a few moments until he ultimately crashed again, flopping forward until his face was flat on the mattress. "i can’t," he muttered, voice muffled.
"oh, um, why?" your eyes went wide.
he turned his face to the side, unable to make a coherent reply beyond a strained, squeaky groan. he was still burning hot with a heavy flush, but it was soon covered by his tail that draped itself over his head. "too embarrassing.”
a small, light laugh slipped from your lips. he coiled further into himself at the sound of it, but he was soon unwound when you had your hands on him, guiding him back up next to you. he was as stiff as could be when he laid down next to you, gaze cast down the other end of the bed. you tucked a stray lock of long hair behind one of his ears. when your touch grazed past him, his pink-tipped ear twitched wildly, and he buried his face into the pillow beneath him. "why don’t you let me do something? you did say this would help you sleep, didn’t you?"
"while i was practically in a daze. i wasn’t thinking right," he complained, voice once again muffled. "this will only keep me awake, if anything."
"maybe, we’ll see." as you spoke, you took to running your fingers through his long, silky hair. you gathered it up from behind him and brought it forward, draping it over his shoulder. your fingers glided through as though they were passing through a soft mist, fluid and sleek. before long, as you gradually let your hands drift higher until they would pass over his head, he began to decompress. stuttering, held breaths became steady and soft. his nervous-contorted face was dissipating, and his heavy blush was fading to a simple dusting of pink.
when his eyes fell closed, you glanced up at his horn. beyond just staring at him, you were also tempting fate with how much you wanted to touch his new features. you couldn’t help it though—humans are such curious, tactile creatures, it was simply in your nature. one hand left his hair, which he barely seemed to notice, and inched its way to his horn that threatened to poke you. finally, your fingertip ghosted its surface. it was as smooth as glass, and just as cool to the touch. in fact, you could almost describe it as silky, like his scales. he twitched under your touch, eyes parting open. his pupils were blown wide open again.
"ah, i’m sorry, i—" you began, but he soon cut you off.
"no, keep going." he grabbed your hand and placed it back on his horn. you blinked incredulously for a moment, but soon continued as you were, running your fingertips up and down the glassy blue projections. he closed his eyes again and, making yours widen, his soft breaths were followed by a faint rumbling in his chest—a purr. he really was like a cat.
a few moments later, you felt something long wind its way around your leg. you looked down. his tail was snaking its way up your leg, until the tip draped itself happily over your lap where it laid swishing from side to side. you fell still in shock when he shuffled his body closer to yours until he laid flush against your side. he laid one of his arms across your chest and reached for your shoulder, pulling you in just a little closer to him.
"you stopped again." his voice was barely a whisper when he leaned his head in the crook of your neck. one of his horns was cool against the back of your neck.
"it’s a little hard to do anything when you’re this close," you muttered back.
"then just stay as you are." he nuzzled about with a yawn. he must have been finally settling down for sleep, but that meant using you as a body pillow. your tail-twined leg was drawn towards him, where he draped his own leg over top of it, caging it in between his calves.
“d-dan heng…” you tried to say his name as if that would do anything, but he paid you no mind. lost in his hypnagogic trance, he only muttered sweet nothings with his lips against your shoulder.
his voice was barely audible. dragon-brain must have been in full swing, because he finished off with a quiet: “you will be mine one day, my beloved…"
you nearly exploded then and there.
i love me some emotive ears, mm yes.
#sorry for ghosting this acc again lol#i’ve been busy writing original shit actually#28k words in woohoo#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#imbibitor lunae#imbibitor lunae x reader#dan heng x reader#dan heng
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Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer)
hi guys! so it occurred to me that i completely forgot to post the newest part of my new fic on tumblr when i posted it to ao3 the other day so here it is! I hope you guys enjoy this one! I've had a lot of fun working on it!
read on ao3
Words: 18.9k
Summary: Dan and Phil continue their arrangement, but are things changing?
Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, light angst
“We should go Christmas shopping,” Phil announces one afternoon. They were laying in his bed after giving each other blowjobs, and Dan was half-asleep.
“Mmf,” Dan huffs. It’s not exactly an answer. It’s not even really a response.
“Dan,” Phil whines, prodding his chest. “C’mon, it would be fun. We could go into town, get a festive drink, let the spirit of Christmas enter us.”
Dan cracks one eye open at that, giving Phil a smirk. “I don’t think I want the spirit of Christmas to be the one entering me tonight,” he says, his voice smooth.
Phil breaks out into a very predictable blush, but it’s still one of the cutest things Dan’s ever seen. “Dan!” he nearly screeches, swatting at him.
“What?” Dan cackles.
“That’s awful!” Phil shakes his head like he’s disappointed, but his eyes have gone a little wide, and Dan knows he’s thinking about what Dan has just suggested.
It’s the one thing they hadn’t yet done together. They’ve fooled around in every other possible way, but penetration has just been off the table. Until now.
“Do you want to?” Dan asks after he’s done laughing. His voice is unintentionally small. It’s not like he’s particularly nervous about this particular sex act; he’s fucked and been fucked before, but never by someone he cares this deeply for. And the part that hurts the most is that they aren’t even like that, not really.
He watches as Phil swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the pale skin of his neck. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath. He glances at Dan quickly, like he hadn’t mean to say it at all. “I mean- God, yeah, of course I want to,” he says.
Dan smiles, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over Phil’s, as if they didn’t just have sex half an hour ago. “I’d let you, if you want,” he murmurs, trying for seductive. He’s not sure he’s really hit the target in his tone, but Phil swallows again, and he reckons he’s close enough.
“We should go out for dinner,” Phil blurts suddenly.
Dan pulls away a little, blinking at him. “Er… okay?”
“Yeah, we should go eat dinner, and then do some shopping, yeah?” Phil sounds nervous, and Dan can’t for the life of him figure out why. They have dinner together all the time nowadays. In fact, almost every time they see each other they wind up sharing a meal somewhere. It’s not usually at a restaurant, he concedes, the both of them horrible introverts who would much rather be inside the comfort of one of their flats, but still, it has happened.
“Sure,” Dan agrees easily. If he’s honest, dinner is the last thing on his mind.
If he can’t have Phil in the real way, in the way he so desperately wants, then he’ll take this: casual sex and friendship, until Phil no longer has a use for him. The fact that all of this has an expiration date tears at the tattered threads of Dan’s heart more and more each day, but it’s a pain he’s learning to cope with nonetheless.
He’s so deep in his own thoughts that he barely notices when Phil climbs out of the bed and makes his way to his closet. “Um, what are you doing?” Dan asks stupidly when he sees Phil pulling out what looks to be a nicer outfit.
Phil turns and gives him a look like he is stupid. “We have to get dressed if we’re going out!” he says, like it’s obvious.
“We’re going out tonight?” Dan squawks, still mostly naked and covered in slowly-drying bodily fluids.
“Yes,” Phil says, voice full of exasperation. “Go on, go take a shower, I’ll pick something out for you.” He sounds excited, but Dan can’t help but be weary.
“Phil…” He starts.
“No, no!” Phil protests. “Just go, I promise it’ll be good, I won’t pick anything you wouldn’t wear yourself!” It’s probably an empty promise, but his bright eyes and the way he dances on the balls of his feet have Dan convinced.
“Fine,” he says with a sigh, giving in. He stands to go jump in the shower, and he doesn’t miss the way Phil takes a long look at his body. “But I swear to god if you try to put me in color, I’m gonna actually kill you.”
“Fine, whatever,” Phil says, waving him off. “Go, go shower, smelly boy. Your fairy godmother needs some space to think about your outfit.”
Dan feels a tug in his chest when Phil smiles at him. He can’t help but step close and kiss him, just once, to dull the pain a little. “You’re on thin ice,” he whispers, his lips still a breath away from Phil’s.
“You have semen in your hair,” Phil murmurs back, pecking his lips.
Dan flips him off as he stomps off to the shower.
~~~
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dan says nearly half an hour later, staring at the clothes Phil has so charitably laid out for him. The jeans are fine, black skinnies with rips new enough that he knows Phil hardly wears them. His problem lies entirely with the sweater.
The red, sparkly sweater.
“What?” Phil asks, voice pitched high in false confusion. “It’s nice!”
“I’m not wearing that,” Dan says vehemently.
“But Dan, it’s Christmas! Red is a very Christmassy color!”
“Red is Christmassy,” Dan spits. “This is- that’s fucking-“
“I call it ‘ladybird chic’,” Phil says, unhelpfully.
Dan turns, very slowly, to glare at him. “Absolutely not.”
Phil pouts. “It’ll look really good if I take any photos this evening.”
Dan swears under his breath. Stupid Phil with his stupid soft, kissable lips with their perfect Cupid’s bow. “I’m wearing a coat over it,” he says haughtily.
Phil grins proudly. “Of course,” he nods. “It’s not exactly my warmest sweater, and I don’t want you to get cold.”
Something about that makes Dan’s stomach twist sharply, a feeling he can’t name taking up all the space in his chest as he watches Phil search for a coat. He makes it so hard, sometimes, to not confess that he’s in love with him. Dan isn’t too stupid to think he’ll let himself go that far- he does have some dignity- but god Phil makes it hard.
“Will this work?” Phil asks, returning with a simple but warm-looking black coat.
Dan nods, taking it from him and setting it on the bed next to the outfit. “Thanks,” he says, his voice soft.
Phil smiles at him when he glances up. “No problem,” he says warmly, leaning in and planting a kiss on Dan’s temple. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, I’ll be right back,” he says, leaving Dan with the lingering feeling of lips and warmth.
~~~
Phil looks amazing.
That’s probably the understatement of the year, Dan thinks, but he’s at a loss for words when Phil steps into the lounge, fully dressed.
He’s got black skinny jeans on as usual, but he’s gone for a really nice grey sweater and his glasses, something Dan is always, always enamored with. He figures he’s probably fully staring at him, but Phil doesn’t seem to mind, so Dan sees no reason why he should look away. In fact, Phil seems to like it, if his smirk is anything to go by.
“Ready to go?” He asks, completely ignoring the way Dan is practically undressing him with his eyes.
“Sure,” Dan says, his voice coming out a little garbled. He clears his throat, flushing. “Let’s go.”
~~~
They end up at an Italian place, one that Dan’s never been to. It’s nice, nicer than he expected when Phil suggested they go out to dinner. It almost feels like a date, if Dan lets himself think too much about it. But he knows better than that, so of course he doesn’t let himself think about it at all.
Instead, he convinces Phil to order wine.
“Come on, I’m almost done with classes, and it’s a Friday. Shouldn’t we celebrate the end of the week?” Dan says, batting his eyelashes to really sell it. The truth is he doesn’t think he can keep his mind from drifting off into romance land if he’s not at least slightly inebriated.
Phil sighs, but nods. “Fine.” He gestures for the waitress to come back over, then points to something on the wine menu. “We’ll each do a glass of the Cabernet Sauvignon, please,” he says, tapping the name.
The waitress nods before disappearing, and Dan watches Phil as he fiddles with the menu, biting his lip in thought. “You sounded like some proper wine connoisseur, just then,” Dan says mildly, glancing over his own menu. He already knows he’s likely to get the same thing he always does at Italian restaurants, but he feels weird staring at Phil when he isn’t looking back.
Phil snorts. “Not hardly,” Phil says dryly. “Cabernet‘s just the happy medium.”
Dan tilts his head at that. “How so?” He asks.
Phil glances up at him, and his lips twitch into a smile. “Well, you like wine that’s bitter, and I like sweeter wine. You always order something with mushrooms when we do Italian, and I usually do some type of tomato-sauce pasta, so...” The waitress returns then with the bottle of wine, and Phil smiles at her. “So Cabernet is the happy medium for us.”
Dan blinks at him. Phil asks the waitress a question about something on the menu, looking completely casual, as if he didn’t just send Dan’s heart spinning. As if they just know each other that well- just fit together that well, without ever even acknowledging it.
He’s still lost in thought when the waitress turns to him with a smile. “And for you, sir?” She asks.
Dan shakes his head in an effort to clear it. “Uhh...” His mind is cloudy at the moment, and he can’t really see the menu.
“They have the mushroom risotto you like,” Phil says softly. “Is that okay?”
Dan nods dumbly. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “That’s fine, thanks.”
The waitress nods, taking their menus before leaving the table. It’s quiet then, and Dan jumps a little when he feels Phil’s foot brush against his. “Sorry,” Phil says, frowning. “Are you okay?”
Dan nods. It’s not a lie, exactly. He thinks maybe he is okay, but everything feels stilted and weird now, and the traitorous, lonely part of his brain is trying to convince him that this- this thing between him and Phil- means more than it does. “I’m fine,” he says quickly, nodding again. “Just tired, I guess.”
A brief flash of something like disbelief flashes across Phil’s face, but it’s gone in a blink. “We can just go back home after dinner, if you don’t feel like shopping.”
The word “home” plays on loop in Dan’s brain until he processes the rest of the words. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll feel better after we eat,” he says, shrugging it off.
Phil nods, and they fall into silence again. They’ve known each other long enough now that it’s not uncomfortable, but Dan’s skin still itches with the quiet. He’s trying to think of something to say when he feels something brush his ankle. He glances up to find Phil smirking at him.
Dan quirks a brow. “Can I help you?” he asks, barely hiding a smile.
The smirk on Phil’s face just deepens, and he rubs his ankle against Dan’s. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but Dan’s long past the point of being surprised that everything feels better with Phil. “Nope,” Phil says, biting back a laugh.
Dan rolls his eyes. He takes a sneaky glance around them, and finds that no one is paying any attention to them. He takes that confirmation of almost-privacy and decides to be cheeky. Taking a sip of his water, he shifts his legs, trailing his foot up the length of Phil’s leg teasingly slow. He watches as Phil’s face flushes, the smirk dropping away to a look of surprise.
“Dan,” he hisses.
“What?” Dan says innocently. “You started this.”
Phil shakes his head, his hand disappearing below the table and catching Dan’s ankle in his hand before Dan can reach his destination. “Not now,” Phil murmurs.
That sends a little thrill through Dan. There’s an unspoken “later” in the air between them, and Dan recalls suddenly what he had offered earlier, when they were getting ready to leave. His blood rushes through his veins hot and fast, making him light headed.
“Are we still going to...” he trails off when the waitress approaches with their food, giving her a fake smile.
She makes sure they’re comfortable and have everything they need before leaving the table again, and by then Dan’s too distracted by his food to return to what he wanted to say.
“Fuck,” he moans around the first bite. “This is delicious.” He’s trying to mind his table manners, but the food is hot and sort of amazing, and he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He really can’t help the sounds that fall from his mouth at that point.
He takes a sip of his wine to wash it down and finally glances over at Phil. His entire face is red, and he’s staring down at his plate with pursed lips. Dan blushes, realizing exactly what he sounded like. Then, he remembers their current situation, and the fact that it really shouldn’t bother Phil, hearing Dan make sexual noises. After all, they’ve been getting each other off for the past month or so, so he’s surely used to it by now.
“Sorry,” he says, despite himself. “Got a little too excited about dinner,” he explains, flickering his eyes between Phil and his plate.
Phil nods, avoiding eye contact. “Right, yeah,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse.
Dan smirks down at his plate, but decides to give Phil a break. “How’s the photo series going? Are we almost done taking photos?”
Phil looks relieved at the change of subject, and his eyes are bright when he looks up at Dan. He’s so enthusiastic about this project, just like he is with everything that he really cares about. Dan can’t help but find it ridiculously endearing.
“Almost, yeah. We’ve gotten some really great shots for experiential, but I don’t think I’ve gotten like the perfect shot for each of the other categories,” Phil says. His eyebrows furrow as he looks down, looking more than a little bothered by that.
“What’re the other categories again?”
“Intellectual, emotional, and er- sexual,” Phil says with a deep blush.
Dan smirks. “Sounds like we can knock that last one out pretty easily,” he says, only sort of teasing.
Phil’s nose goes a little pink, but he’s got a guarded look in his eye as he chases a bite of pasta around his plate. “I don’t know if I want that one to be like...” he trails off, glancing up at Dan with something soft in his eyes.
“Like...?” Dan prompts, confused.
“Like... genuine,” Phil says.
Dan blinks. “Why?”
Phil clears his throat, looking down again. “I don’t- I just- I just want you to be comfortable, yeah? And if it would make you uncomfortable to-“
“It wouldn’t,” Dan interrupts. His face immediately warms when he realizes how that must sound. “I mean... it’s what we’ve been doing this whole time, right? I’ll be no more vulnerable naked than I have been for every other candid shot you’ve done.”
Phil looks almost- disappointed, in a way. Dan can’t think of a reason why he would be, so he convinces himself that he’s probably just imagining it, that Phil is probably just thinking about the best way to shoot the more explicit photographs.
“Sure,” he says eventually, downing a few gulps of his wine. “We’ll work on that stuff- later, yeah?”
“Sure,” Dan echoes, sipping his own wine.
‘Later’ is starting to have a lot of weight.
~~~
After they’ve finished their meal and Phil has ignored Dan trying to pay for the check, they head out to see what the shops have to offer. Everything is so bright with all the twinkling lights and decorations, and Dan’s feeling just a little bit warm and fuzzy with it all. Maybe that’s why he reaches for Phil’s hand, he thinks to himself absently. It’s probably just the overwhelming excitement of it all forcing him to reach out for something to ground himself. Definitely not his deep attraction and infatuation with his best friend.
Right?
Either way, for whatever reason on both their parts, Phil doesn’t pull away at the touch. Instead he laces their fingers together, swinging their hands between them as they meander down the busy streets. It feels safe, with so many strangers surrounding them, to share a touch like this in public. No one here knows them, any looks cast their way are forgotten the moment the gawker looks away.
“Ooh, mulled wine!” Phil announces after a while of aimless wandering. He tugs Dan in the direction of the stall he’s laid his eye on, and Dan allows himself to be dragged. “Do you like mulled wine?” Phil asks as they stand in line to order.
Dan shrugs. “Yeah, it’s alright.” He wants to say something about how it would taste better coming from Phil’s lips, but he thankfully restrains himself from going that far.
Phil rambles on about something that happened to him a few years ago, something about spilling cider all over a guy he worked with that he also had a crush on. Dan’s trying to listen but he keeps getting distracted by the rosy patches on Phil’s face, his frostbitten cheeks looking more kissable than ever.
“We’ll have two mulled wines, please,” Phil says to the sweet older lady tending the booth.
She smiles and nods as she goes about preparing them, and Dan doesn’t even have the chance to reach for his wallet before Phil is sliding a few notes across to her. “Have a good evening! Happy Christmas!” the shop lady says with a happy wave after she hands them their drinks.
“Thanks, you too,” Phil replies with a smile, taking Dan’s hand again and leading them over to a set of benches situated around a massive tree. “Mm, this is really good for the spot,” Phil hums happily, slurping on his mulled wine.
Dan gives him an odd look as they sit together. “Good for the spot?” he repeats.
Phil nods. “Yeah, you know. That thing people say when something tastes good.” He looks so sure of himself, and Dan sort of hates to burst his bubble, but it’s basically his duty as a citizen to do so.
“You mean “hits the spot,” right?”
Phil blinks. “Er...” He seems to consider it for a lot longer than Dan thinks is necessary, and finally he shrugs. “Okay, maybe. Maybe that’s what I meant.”
Dan cackles out a laugh at this, dropping his head back with unabashed glee. “Oh god,” he giggles. “You’re such an idiot.”
Luckily they’ve grown comfortable enough with each other that Phil’s not really offended. He pretends, though, knocking their shoulders together with a pout. “You have to be nice to be. I bought you dinner and mulled wine.”
That makes Dan’s skin prickle just a bit. “Right...” he says, looking down. He knows Phil didn’t say that with the intentions of making him feel guilty, but he can’t help what he feels. “About that, actually,” Dan starts.
“Hm?”
“I wish you’d let me pay for something. Like dinner, or the wine, or something, you know?” He looks down at his hands wrapped around his cup, flicking the plastic lid with his thumbnail. “I’m not entirely useless.”
Phil makes a startled, hurt noise in his throat. “Dan, I never said you were. I don’t- listen, I paid because... well, I dragged you here, didn’t I?” He shifts awkwardly, and won’t meet Dan’s eye. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d say Phil seemed sort of nervous.
“You hardly did any dragging,” Dan says with a roll of his eyes. “I wanted to come. Believe it or not, I genuinely enjoy spending time with you.”
Phil looks surprised, and Dan snorts. He feels like it’s really hardly a shock that he enjoys spending time with him; if Phil was only slightly less oblivious, he’d have already realized that Dan’s got feelings for him.
“Oh,” Phil says, stupidly.
Dan knocks their shoulders together. “Yeah, oh,” he mocks, his voice gentler than he meant it to be. “I’m just saying, you should let me pay for stuff now and again. It’s not going to break me.”
Phil nods, but looks down, mumbling something under his breath. It sounded like “I like taking care of you,” and that sends Dan’s heart beating so fast that he can’t even ask Phil to repeat himself. If that wasn’t what he said, well, Dan wants to be ignorant for now, and live in that bliss.
“Shall we do some shopping?” Dan asks, changing the subject. He’s drained nearly half his mulled wine already, and the warmth of the alcohol is making its way to his veins, making him giddy with energy.
“Yeah, but first...” He hands Dan his cup, which is almost completely empty already, and grabs his camera.
Dan rolls his eyes. “Is this really a photo-worthy moment?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Phil smirks at him over the camera. “Of course it is. Now smile!”
Dan looks directly over the camera, straight into Phil’s eyes. He’s not really smiling, but he’s not frowning either. He’s just... looking at him. The camera flashes once, then twice, and then Phil lowers it, looking back at Dan with something almost wild in his eyes. Dan hands him his cup back silently, and purposefully brushes their fingers together. Something settles in Phil’s expression then, and he gives Dan a soft look before downing the rest of his drink.
“Shall we?” he says as he stands, holding a hand out for Dan to take. The smile he gives him when Dan does is gorgeous and makes every photo worth it.
~~~
Dan allows himself to be led in and out of shops for the next two hours, and Phil takes plenty of photos along the way. He takes photos of Dan window shopping, walking, admiring decorations; basically any move Dan makes, Phil captures. And Dan knows he agreed to this, he knows that it’s all for Phil’s project, but after a while, he grows tired of it.
Eventually, Dan turns to him and gives him a withering look. “Can we put the camera away and just be us for a little while?” He doesn’t intend for his voice to be so soft, but he can barely hear it as it floats in the air between them.
Phil lowers the camera with a strange look on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, like he’s surprised.
Dan nods, and before he can think twice about it, he reaches out and laces their fingers together. “C’mon, I saw a nerd shop over there that I want to check out.”
Before he gets the chance to turn away, Phil darts into his space, kissing the corner of his mouth softly. It’s over so quickly that Dan almost thinks he may have imagined it, simply because Phil looks so calm and confident afterwards. He simply squeezes Dan’s hand and leads him in the direction of the shop, and Dan feels like he’s been left to play catch-up, not for the first time today.
“Hey, look at this,” Phil says suddenly, when they’re almost to the shop. He slows to a stop, his eyes scanning over a bulletin board posted on the bit of brick wall between the windows of the game shop and the bakery next door. “Dan, look!” He taps Dan’s arm excitedly as he speaks, as if Dan’s not already looking at the poster.
“Open Auditions” it announces at the top. Dan’s heart quickens, just slightly. A quick scan of information confirms what he’d already gathered: a local theatre company is holding open auditions for their upcoming performance of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice.
Dan’s heart races and his vision has gone slightly fuzzy as he tries to take in the information. He can barely focus on anything, his ears ringing with the possibilities. This could be it, a little voice in his head mocks. An escape from the life you don’t want, a chance to be more.
It takes him a minute to come back to his senses, and when he does Phil is rambling excitedly beside him. “-great this is, Dan, you’ve got to audition, this would be perfect for you!”
Dan shakes his head slowly, trying to clear the cloud of fantasy that’s infiltrated his mind. “No,” he says eventually. He forces himself to look away, reminds himself that life isn’t a fairytale. He chose this shitty career and this shitty life, he can’t just back out now. His parents may have raised a socially awkward, queer procrastinator but they didn’t raise a quitter.
“No?” Phil says the word like it’s foreign. “What do you mean, I thought you wanted to act again if you got the chance?” He sounds confused.
Dan shrugs, avoiding eye contact with Phil as he shuffles his feet, moving further from the bright poster. “Yeah, but... come on, this? It’s not very responsible, is it?”
Phil blinks at him, glancing at the poster like it has the answers he needs. “Er- how do you mean?” he asks carefully.
Dan hates that. He hates that he’s ruining their nice day with his bullshit. “Well, I’ve got class, don’t I? And like, work, and shit. I can’t - I don’t have time for this.”
There’s a brief moment of pause where Phil looks at him, then studies the poster again, clearly thinking hard about something. “The auditions are next week, so I bet the rehearsals start after you’re done with classes.”
Dan tells that little stirring of hope in his chest to pipe down. Instead, he shrugs, like he couldn’t care less about the whole thing. “Whatever. Are we going in? It’s fucking freezing out here.”
Phil nods and gestures to the store, so Dan turns to lead the way. He notices Phil doesn’t move to hold his hand again, and he pretends that doesn’t hurt his feelings. When he opens the door he glances behind him, and Phil is still a few steps away, like he’d stood there for a minute before following after Dan. Dan can’t imagine why, and decides it’s better not to think about that at all.
He waves Phil in ahead of him, and spares one last look at the poster before following after Phil and into the shop.
~~~
Dan would love to pretend that he stops thinking about the audition flyer by the time they make it back to Phil’s place, but it would be a lie. It’s still there, in the back of his mind, mocking him with the possibilities.
So he does what any reasonable adult would do.
He immediately jumps at the opportunity to get in Phil’s pants.
It’s not like it’s difficult at this point in their... situation, but he still finds part of him is reluctant to be the one to make the first move, if only because he’s scared of rejection. But this time, like so many times before, Phil indulges him.
“Oh,” Phil laughs as Dan pushes at his coat, his voice deep and sexy like it always is at the end of a long day, when he’s truly worn out. Dan can’t believe he has the privilege of knowing exactly what this sounds like. “Eager, are we?”
Dan latches his mouth onto Phil’s jaw, sucking gently as he shoves the stupid coat off of Phil’s shoulders. “Wanna fuck you,” he mumbles against Phil’s chin, loving the prickly feeling of almost-beard under his mouth.
Phil makes a good noise then, a horny one that Dan doesn’t get to hear nearly often enough. “Can we- bed?” he mumbles out around Dan’s mouth, which has finally found its way to Phil’s.
“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, guiding Phil backwards blindly.
This proves to be a bad idea when he leads him into a wall approximately five seconds later, but luckily, Phil is able to laugh it off. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, pulling Dan back against him once more and kissing across his cheeks. “Let me lead,” he whispers.
Dan allows that, following Phil as he shuffles them backwards down the hall towards his bedroom, their lips barely parting the whole way there. It’s sloppy and messy, but it’s hot, too, unbearably so. Dan is so turned on by the time they step foot in Phil’s room, he’s half afraid he won’t even make it to the good part.
Luckily, Phil trips right before they reach the bed, and the resulting stumble-almost-fall is enough to calm Dan down a little. He’s giggling against Phil’s mouth as they right themselves, and Phil is struggling to mumble an apology around the kisses he’s receiving.
“Dan,” he manages, thumping on Dan’s chest a little, just enough to get Dan’s attention and make him pull away for a second. Phil catches his breath and then smiles at Dan, a wide, gorgeous thing. “Slow down, baby. We’ve got all night.”
It’s said so softly, so lovingly, that Dan thinks he’s going to cry. So, instead of listening, he throws that caution to the wind and leans in for another kiss, his hands dropping to undo Phil’s belt. Phil makes a little noise in his throat, and Dan feels gentle hands pull at his wrists, pulling his hands away from where they’re struggling to undo the fasteners on Phil’s jeans. Dan whines and tugs at the grip, trying to free his hands, but he hears a soft shushing noise as Phil breaks the kiss.
Dan doesn’t realize it at first, but when they’re no longer kissing, he feels a dampness on his cheeks. Frustrated, he wipes at the traitorous tears, but at the same time, Phil’s hands come into view, gently wiping the tears away as he murmurs soft words. Dan struggles to make them out at first, his breathing gone hard and ragged. He tries to settle himself, and Phil tugs at his hand, settling it on his own chest like he wants Dan to copy his breathing. He does, and when he finally calms down, Dan can make out what Phil’s saying.
“Shh, there we go. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
It’s said in such a soft, soothing voice that Dan almost starts crying again. This can’t be meaningless. Even though he knows Phil doesn’t feel anything for him like that, some part of him is just begging for this moment to have some kind of meaning, something that means Phil wants him. But wishing can’t change the truth, and he knows that.
“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, his voice raw.
Phil makes a startled noise. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know, but like... crying is so not sexy.” Dan feels embarrassed just to say it.
“I don’t know,” Phil muses. “I think showing your emotions is kinda hot.” He gives Dan a smirk then, and Dan barely refrains from pushing him off the bed. The only reason he doesn’t is because of how much he craves the closeness.
“Did I ruin the mood?” Dan asks timidly, sitting up in Phil’s lap to give him some space.
Phil smiles, but shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Do you still want to...” His face flushes then, like he can’t even bring himself to say the words.
Dan grins. “I definitely still want to fuck you. If you still want that.”
“I do,” Phil says quickly. Dan smirks and Phil blushes. “I just... it’s been a while since I’ve done that, so...”
Dan nods easily. “Do you need some space to get ready?”
Phil looks relieved. “Please?”
Nodding again, Dan leans down and kisses him sweetly. “Of course. I’ll go sit in the lounge while you do what you need to do.”
“Thank you,” Phil says softly, leaning up to peck Dan’s lips once more. “I won’t be long.”
With that reassurance, and a dismissive pat on the bum, Dan sees himself out of the room, going to wait in the lounge like he’d promised while Phil showers and does whatever else he needs to do to feel comfortable with how the evening is proceeding.
~~~
“Dan?”
Phil’s voice is more than welcome in the quiet of the lounge, but it still makes Dan jump a bit. He’d been lost in thought again, pondering over the amount of time they’ve spent together lately and trying to count in his head how many nights he’d spent at Phil’s over the last month. He’d just made it to thirteen when he hears Phil’s voice.
“Yeah?” Dan calls back, already rising from the sofa.
“Can you come here?” Phil replies, his voice a bit quieter. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d almost say he sounded nervous.
When Dan steps into Phil’s bedroom, he nearly coos. Phil’s turned the overhead light off and lit a couple of candles, and he’s even got music playing from somewhere. It’s all very relaxing, and something about it feels sort of romantic. Dan bats that thought away immediately before it does something stupid, like settle in his already lovesick mind.
“Is this okay?” Phil asks, and Dan’s gaze snaps over to where Phil’s sat at the edge of the bed. Dan hadn’t even registered him sitting there at first, his mind trying to wrap around the way the room is set up. Phil definitely looks nervous, tugging at the hem of his sushi-printed boxers and avoiding eye contact. “I just thought... I don’t know, actually.”
“It’s nice,” Dan murmurs, going to join Phil on the bed. He’s trying to be considerate of the conversation they’re having, but honestly it’s a little hard considering Phil is practically naked, and god Dan loves to look at him. He nudges Phil’s knee with his own, prompting him to make eye contact. “It’s really lovely.”
Phil smiles, pleased. Something darkens in his gaze then, and before Dan has a chance to decipher that look, Phil is climbing onto his lap and gently pushing him to lay flat against the mattress. “This okay?” He murmurs as he kisses his way across Dan’s jaw.
Dan swallows hard, the kissing and weight of Phil on his lap sending heat to his groin. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “This is... fuck, this is perfect.”
Phil makes a humming sort of noise before finally pressing his lips to Dan’s, swiping his tongue against Dan’s bottom lip. Of course Dan opens up for him, feeling that tongue slip in easily. This is possibly Dan’s favorite kind of kissing, the kind that’s wet and maybe a little bit messy. It just feels good, in a way most things don’t.
Eventually, Dan’s hands trail over Phil’s pale back, tracing shapes down his spine with a featherlight touch before reaching his destination. Dan isn’t like, a hundred percent sure, but he’s actually pretty positive that Phil’s got the nicest bum in the world. It’s thick and soft and gives easily under the pressure of his kneading fingers.
“You’ve got the nicest ass,” Dan murmurs to Phil, pulling away just enough to get the words out properly.
Phil laughs against Dan’s neck, and Dan can’t help the full body tremor that happens when he feels pressure on the sensitive skin. “Do you want to fuck it?” Phil asks, in a voice that’s almost innocent.
Dan groans, kneading his cheeks with more purpose. “God. Yeah, I do. Can I?” He knows they’ve sort of already discussed this, but Phil’s allowed to change his mind.
“Of course,” Phil says with a little smile. He leans back, trailing his hands down Dan’s clothed chest before tucking his hands under his borrowed sweater and stroking the skin there. “Take your clothes off, babe.”
Dan feels a tingle down to his toes at the pet name, and has to remind himself very quickly to get a fucking grip. They’re just friends, this is just a friendly fuck. A mutual benefits kind of deal.
Maybe if he says it enough in his head, he’ll start to believe it.
He’s quick to discard of Phil’s stupid ladybird sweater, throwing it across the room blindly, which unsurprisingly earns him a pinch to the hip. “Don’t be rude to my favorite jumper, Daniel,” Phil chastises, a smile in his voice.
Dan’s got a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it in favor of arching up into the way Phil’s stroking his chest, his thumbs catching on Dan’s nipples repeatedly. “Fuck. C’mere,” Dan mumbles, tugging Phil down by his neck. They’ve had enough sex together for Phil to know what he wants, so he goes easily, latching that wonderful mouth around a pink nub and sucking gently.
The sounds that fall out of Dan’s mouth are too loud in the quiet of the room, but if Phil wants him to be quiet, he’s got a funny way of showing it. Instead he reaches for Dan’s jeans, thumbing at the zipper without looking. He’s got them unlatched in seconds, pushing at the material like it offends him.
“Let me-“ Dan mumbles, pushing at Phil’s shoulders. Phil bites down on his nipple then, and Dan keens. It’s never felt so good before, but when they’re like this, it’s never better. “Fuck, fuck,” Dan chants, holding onto his willpower by a thread.
“You will,” Phil mumbles against his skin, kissing his way across to Dan’s other nipple, which has been quite ignored so far. In a feat of coordination Dan wouldn’t have thought him capable of, Phil manages to shuffle his lower half enough to yank Dan’s jeans down past his thighs without stopping the movements of his mouth.
If Dan wasn’t so stupidly turned on, he’d probably say something about how impressed he is.
Phil massages Dan’s thighs with gentle pressure for a while, kissing and sucking and biting at Dan’s nipple all the while. Dan is leaking through his pants at this point, and he makes a very pathetic sort of noise when Phil brushes a hand over his cock.
When Phil pulls away, it gives Dan just a brief moment to recover, but he still squirms under the heat of Phil’s gaze. “What?” Dan finally asks, when Phil won’t stop staring at him.
Phil shakes his head slowly, blinking like he’s coming out of a dream. Dan is positive that it shouldn't be as hot as it actually is. “You’re so gorgeous,” Phil murmurs, rubbing gently over Dan’s thigh.
Dan covers his blushing face with a squeak. He’ll never get used to this naked appreciation that Phil has for his body. A traitorous corner of his mind reminds him that he better not get used to something he’s not even allowed to keep. Dan clears his throat, twitching his head like he can shake the thought away.
“You know...” he starts slowly, a certain conversation coming back to him. “You said that part of the photo series was about sex, right?”
Phil freezes a little then. He’s quick to recover, but not quick enough for Dan not to notice it. “Sexual intimacy,” he corrects, his voice soft. “What about it?”
Dan shifts his hips pointedly. “I think this might be prime photo taking time, bub,” he jokes.
Something shifts in Phil’s face, and he stares down at Dan like he’s grown a second head. “You want me to take them now?” He asks.
Dan shrugs. “Might as well. We’re horny, and all. Kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Phil draws his hands away from Dan’s thighs, and Dan immediately craves his touch again. “I thought you... I thought we were going to...”
“Fuck? Well, that’s the plan, yeah. Doesn’t mean you can’t get your photo thing done too. Two birds, one stone.” Dan doesn’t intend to sound so tetchy, but Phil’s hesitation is getting under his skin. Has he changed his mind? Is Dan’s body not good enough to be photographed in the light of intimacy? His head swirls with self doubt as he sits up. “Look, we don’t have to, but-“
Phil stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “No, we... that’s okay. I’ll, um... let me grab my camera.” His voice sounds wobbly all of a sudden, and Dan frowns.
“Phil, I-“
“It’s fine,” Phil interrupts, climbing off the bed. His face is horribly neutral, and Dan feels a churning, the bad kind, in his stomach.
He watches, wordlessly, as Phil leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with the fancy camera he totes around with them nearly everywhere they go. Dan tries not to glare at the stupid thing. Phil climbs back onto the bed and goes to straddle Dan’s lap again, clicking different things on the camera before holding it up. “Tilt your head,” he says softly.
Dan does, but Phil makes a tutting noise like it’s not what he wanted. Before Dan can ask for better instructions, Phil shifts forward, the movement effectively causing their hips to grind together. Dan can’t help his very human response, tossing his head back with a quiet moan. He hears the camera shutter, and for some reason his skin crawls. He tries to ignore it in favor of grinding up for more of that delicious pressure, reaching out blindly to grip Phil’s hips and pull him closer.
The camera goes off a few more times, but eventually Phil leans away and Dan hears the sound of it being set gently onto Phil’s bedside table. Dan opens his eyes, glancing around until he catches Phil’s gaze. Something has changed. Phil’s got a guarded look in his eye, and Dan feels his stomach clenching with nerves.
“Phil,” he whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s cheek gently. He watches as Phil’s eyes slip shut and he leans into the touch. Dan breathes out a sigh of relief at that. It’s a gamble, sometimes, showing even the slightest amount of affection. Because no matter how Phil reacts, Dan has to remember to keep his guard up, protect himself first and worry about the consequences of it all later.
“I want you,” Phil breathes against Dan’s palm.
“You have me,” is Dan’s immediate response. Even if it’s a lie, it’s a lie he feels comfortable telling, as long as it settles whatever is making Phil look so despondent.
Phil blinks at him, raising an eyebrow like a question. Dan nods. It’s worth it for the smile it puts on Phil’s face, for the way he looks down at Dan like he’s given him the world. It’s worth it even though it tears a hole in Dan’s chest. Phil presses a gentle kiss to Dan’s palm then, and Dan knows he’s absolutely fucked.
“How do you normally like it?” Phil asks, pulling away and doing an odd little wiggle to free himself from his pants. Even as ridiculous as he looks, Dan is naturally very distracted at the sight of his cock, and it takes him a second to process what Phil said.
“Oh, uh,” Dan says stupidly. Phil is looking at him with a smug little smirk, and Dan begs his brain to stop being so fucking gay, for like two seconds. “I’m not picky,” he eventually comes up with.
Phil’s lips twitch. “Really?”
Dan nods, watching the way Phil sits up on his knees and begins tugging at Dan’s jeans, which until this moment, Dan had honestly forgotten he was still wearing. “I’m easy,” he says, trying for a flirty tone but not quite getting there.
Phil snorts. He finally pushes the jeans down to Dan’s ankles, leaving Dan to finish kicking them off, paying no mind to how they crumple to the floor in a sad little heap. “Do you think you can handle it if I ride you?” Phil asks, tilting his head.
Dan’s not sure if he wants to laugh or moan. “Uh, yeah,” he stutters out stupidly.
“You sure?” Phil gives him a doubtful look. Dan almost bristles, but then Phil’s hand is diving under the band of his pants and wrapping around his hardness, and Dan can’t find it in himself to even be mildly offended.
“Fuck,” Dan whines. “Yes, just let me-” Dan wiggles helplessly, trying to push his pants off with the use of only one hand. His other is clutching Phil’s thigh, trying to keep himself under control while Phil wanks him.
Phil laughs quietly as he watches Dan struggle but he finally pushes at Dan’s pants, freeing him from them at last. “Are you comfy there?”
Dan nods, but flails an arm above his head in search of a pillow. Phil rolls his eyes and reaches out, tugging on the pillow Dan normally uses when he sleeps over. He pats at Dan’s shoulder to get him to sit up, and when he does, Phil gently places the pillow under his head before pushing his shoulders back down. “Better?” Phil asks.
“Yeah,” Dan says with a smile. “C’mere.” He tugs at Phil’s body, trying to manhandle him onto himself. Phil giggles, like actually giggles, as he complies, straddling Dan’s hips like before. Their nakedness is hard to ignore now, especially when Phil settles, their cocks rubbing together without a barrier between them. Dan groans, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling.
“You okay?” Phil asks, rocking his hips gently.
Dan swats at him lightly, with absolutely no force behind it. “Don’t be a tease, you know I hate that,” he complains.
Phil grins. “I know you pretend to hate it,” he says, leaning down and kissing Dan’s mouth wetly.
Dan loses himself in it for a bit, forgetting to defend himself entirely. Instead he arches into the kiss and strokes his hands down Phil’s back, trailing his fingers down until he reaches the small of Phil’s back. He pauses there, stroking his fingertips up and down, but Phil arches, making a needy little noise in his throat, and Dan grins, pulling away from the kiss to speak. “Yeah?”
Phil nods, his eyelids fluttering shut. “Yeah. Touch me.”
Dan certainly doesn’t have to be told twice. He pushes his hands down further, kneading Phil’s ass cheeks with a firm hand. Phil groans, pressing back into the touch, and Dan feels a hot surge of arousal in his gut. It’s so beyond sexy for Phil to be on top of him like this, and then for him to be making those noises... Dan can hardly stand it.
“Condom?” He breathes against Phil’s jaw, trailing wet kisses along the smooth expanse of skin. Part of Dan wishes it was a bit stubbled, and then he’s wishing that he’d had the foresight to ask for something a little different. He’s never personally experienced it, but he’s heard good things about being rimmed by someone with facial hair, and he thinks if Phil put off shaving for a couple days, he’d be well on his way to a decent beard.
Dan shakes himself out of his horny fantasy when Phil moves off his lap. The whine that comes out of Dan’s mouth is embarrassing at best, and Phil rolls his eyes when Dan makes grabby hands for him. “Calm down, you actual goblin,” Phil chastises as he looks through the top drawer of his nightstand.
When he finds what he’s looking for he makes a little trumpet noise. Dan’s so endeared with him that it’s actually kind of ridiculous. Phil smiles at him with the same little happy grin he gets sometimes when he makes Dan smile, and Dan reaches out for him. His hand finds Phil’s thigh, and Dan scratches at the hair there while he watches Phil fight with the corner of the condom package.
“Need some help?” Dan asks, his voice softer than he’d intended.
Phil huffs, but shoves the packet into Dan’s hand with an adorably frustrated noise. “Stupid plastic,” he mumbles.
Dan nods as he rips the corner off easily. “Bad for the turtles,” he says mindlessly.
When he glances up, Phil is smiling at him stupidly. “Yeah,” he says, his tone affectionate. “Bad for the turtles.”
Dan grins and gets to work rolling the condom on, squinting when he realizes that it’s a bright blue color. “Uh, is this gonna like dye my dick blue or something, mate?”
Phil scrunches his face up in adorable disgust at that. “Okay, first of all- ew. Don’t call me “mate” when we’re...” he gestures between them pointedly, making eyes at Dan’s penis. “Secondly, no, you weirdo. Your dick will be fine, I just thought they were neat.”
He’s got a little flush on his cheeks when he’s finished with his rant, and Dan has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cooing at him. “Okay, babe, whatever you say,” Dan says, mostly teasing.
Phil bites his lip, but Dan can tell that the pet name does something to him. It may just come from a point of arousal instead of affection, but Dan will take what he can get. “Here,” Phil says, grabbing Dan’s hand and putting something in it.
When Dan looks down, he’s met with a bottle of lube, and he smirks. “You don’t want to put it on me?”
It was meant as a joke, but Phil’s nose crinkles like the idea disgusts him. Dan tries not to take offense. “I don’t like the texture,” he admits. “That’s why I prefer to, like, prepare in the shower. It’s cleaner and I can just wash the lube off my hands right there.”
Dan nods in understanding. Phil was a bit peculiar about textures of things that he touched. “Maybe next time I can help you out with that?” He means for it to come out as a sexy suggestion, but halfway through the sentence he loses his nerve and it comes out as more of a nervous question.
Phil leans down and kisses his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says simply. Then he nudges Dan’s hand. “Alright, get to work, I’m not getting any younger.” He waggles his eyebrows as he says this, making Dan snort.
“Bossy,” he mumbles as he pours a dollop of lube onto his hand. He tries not to feel watched as he covers himself with it, but he can feel Phil’s eyes on him like a touch. Instead of psyching himself out, he leans into the feeling, giving himself a couple good wanks before drawing his hand back. “Reckon that’s enough?” He asks as Phil settles in his lap again.
Phil shrugs. “You can add more if it isn’t,” he says with a cheeky grin.
Dan rolls his eyes, but Phil’s already sitting up and looking at him expectantly, so Dan reaches down, carefully guiding himself to Phil’s waiting hole. He grips Phil’s hip with his free hand, smiling when Phil reaches down to grip his wrist in a loose hold. They’re both quiet when Dan presses into Phil for the first time, almost holding their breath. It takes Dan a second to realize that Phil actually is holding his breath and he moves his hand to hold Phil’s, squeezing gently.
“Breathe, baby.”
Phil takes in a noisy breath, and his body relaxes enough for Dan to push inside past the first tight ring of muscle. He’s already sweating, the pressure he feels around the head of his cock absolutely maddening already. “Thrust up a bit,” Phil whispers, balancing himself with one hand on Dan’s chest, his other still kept in Dan’s grip.
Dan immediately obliges, pausing only to decipher the noise Phil makes when he bottoms out. “You okay?” He whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s chest in a soothing sort of way.
“Yeah,” Phil breathes, nodding. “It’s just, like... been a while.”
It’s stupid how happy those words make Dan. “Same,” he murmurs, trailing his hand up and petting at Phil’s collarbones.
Phil smiles down at him, shifting his hips a little to get used to the stretch. He leans down slowly, taking care not to disrupt the position, and peppers Dan’s face with kisses, only some of them landing on his lips. It feels like so much, all of this affection while he’s buried balls deep inside his best friend, and as much as Dan craves it, he can feel himself beginning to suffocate underneath it all.
Gently, so as not to hurt or surprise Phil, Dan reaches down to grip his hips, pulling out a little ways and thrusting back in. Phil moans against his cheek, and Dan smiles. “Good?” He asks, just to make sure.
“Yes,” Phil whispers. “Right- right there!” He nearly squeals the last part as Dan thrusts a few more times, keeping his angle. He must’ve managed to find Phil’s prostate like this, so he reaches one hand up to grip the back of Phil’s neck, holding him in place.
“You feel so good,” Dan whispers. It’s the truth, Phil always feels good whether they’re sharing a kiss, giving each other blowjobs, or just brushing shoulders as they sit on the couch watching a film. He realizes with a start that as incredible as this is, this isn’t even his favorite way to feel Phil, not by far.
“Mm,” Phil moans, barely coherent. Dan looks at him and smirks when he sees how out of it Phil is, watery, hooded eyes and his teeth digging into his bottom lip in a very Dan-esque fashion. “Meant to be riding you, though,” Phil finds enough brain cells to mutter.
Dan pulls him in for a wet kiss. He can’t not, not with Phil looking like this sat on his cock. When he releases him, he does so completely, tossing his arms over his head to rest on the pillow. He settles Phil with a challenging look. “Okay, so what am I doing all of the work for?”
Phil narrows his eyes at him as he sits up. “You lazy git,” he says, with no bite in his voice.
Dan smirks. “I could say the same about you.”
“Pft.” Phil seems to take this as a personal challenge, steadying himself on Dan’s chest with both hands before he begins moving his hips, doing little bounces at first before eventually abandoning that to grind in tight little circles.
Dan moans. Loudly.
“Fuck.”
“Shh, my neighbors will hear us,” Phil chastises.
Dan groans. “Fuck the fucking neighbors.” He grips Phil’s hips, digging his thumbs in a bit harder than he normally would, and he would probably feel bad if he had the brain capacity to think about it.
“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Phil says smugly.
Dan wants to roll his eyes in annoyance, but Phil just feels too good. He can’t focus on anything but tight, wet heat and searing blue eyes. “God. Make me come,” he grunts, grinding up into Phil. They’d been having sex together long enough that Dan knows Phil doesn’t mind him being a little bossy.
Phil shakes his head though, grinning. “Me first,” he says, grabbing Dan’s hand and pulling it over to his neglected cock. Dan’s pleasantly surprised to find that it’s only flagged a little, still mostly hard. It only takes him a couple of strokes to get him back to full hardness, but then Phil whines like he’s in pain.
“What?” Dan asks, immediately releasing him and stilling his hips. “Are you okay?”
Phil pouts. “It’s getting all tacky and drying out,” he complains.
It takes Dan’s horn-driven brain a second to understand what he’s talking about. “Oh, hang on, let me-“ he reaches blindly until his hand discovers the discarded bottle of lube, and he pats Phil’s hip with his dry hand so he’ll climb off for a second. As Dan’s lathering himself back up, he notices Phil rubbing at his thighs. “You alright?
“Yeah. Little tired though. My thighs hurt.” Phil gives him an apologetic smile.
Dan returns the smile easily. “That’s fine. Do you wanna try this a different way?”
Phil gives him a sheepish look. “Do you mind?”
He’s so considerate. Dan cares for him more than he wants to admit. “Not at all. How about...” he shuffles around on the bed, moving the pillow further up so that it’s out of the way. “Do you want to lay down or would you be okay on all fours?”
It’s funny, the horny expression that crosses Phil’s face as he considers the options. “I think... for now I think I'll lay down. I’m so out of shape, and my legs already feel a bit like jelly.”
Dan giggles. “Alright. Well, get comfy, then.”
As Phil settles himself on his back, he seems to be mulling something over. “I do want to try the- the other one. Like, some other time, obviously, but I do want to try it like that as well.” He sounds nervous, even shy, and Dan feels it settle somewhere in his chest.
“Sure,” he says quietly. He settles himself between Phil’s legs, running his hands up Phil’s calves and stopping at his knees. “You think you can be flexible for me?”
Phil nods. Dan helps him settle back, then brings both of his legs over Dan’s shoulders. Phil looks a little ridiculous, but he grins up at Dan, so Dan smiles back, tilting his head to kiss his knee. He curses himself afterwards, at the soft look Phil gives him. He’s probably already thinking of ways to distance himself from Dan, to tell Dan that they really should just finish the stupid photo series then never speak to each other again.
At least, that’s what’s running through Dan’s head at first. After a moment, however, Phil distracts him again by speaking in a soft voice.
“Are you okay?”
Dan can’t help but smile down at him. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Phil tilts his head. He looks like a curious puppy. Dan keeps that thought to himself.
“About what?”
Dan nearly freezes at the innocent question, but reminds himself to stay calm to avoid suspicion. Instead of telling the whole truth, he smirks, reaching down to press his fingers to Phil’s perineum. “You,” he half-lies.
Phil smiles, his eyelids fluttering shut as Dan applies gentle pressure. “Mm. Might wanna start doing me instead of thinking about me, Howell. Running out of time, here.”
Dan knows that Phil’s just joking about it being late, but that cuts deep. He really is running out of time, already. This may be the last time he ever gets to have Phil like this, even if it’s technically the first.
“Hey,” Phil murmurs. Dan’s eyes refocus on him, and Phil smiles, a little twitch of his lips. “Come back,” he says.
Dan smiles at him. “I’m here,” he replies.
Phil reaches up, stroking Dan’s arms in gentle sweeps. “No. You were stuck in your head. Get out of there, come be with me for a little while.”
It’s stupid, but for a moment Dan thinks he might cry.
Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to Phil’s mouth. “I’m with you,” he murmurs, reaching down to line himself back up.
Phil gasps against his mouth when Dan presses back inside, but it’s a good noise, Dan thinks. “Mm,” Phil hums. “This is better.”
“Yeah?” Dan asks, grinning.
Phil nods, twirling his fingers around a curling piece of Dan’s hair. “I can feel you even deeper like this,” he murmurs, sounding inexplicably fond.
Dan makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whine and a whimper, and Phil tugs at his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Dan slows his thrusting to a grind so they don’t knock their teeth together too much, and Phil opens his mouth up for him with a soft noise.
It’s softer like this, Dan realizes. They’re slow and careful as they drag fingers over damp skin and press kisses to any place they can reach. Dan’s never been a fan of the term, but this feels more like making love than anything he’s ever heard described in any movie or book.
He’s quick to bat that thought away though. If there’s one thing he understands about their arrangement, it’s that this is temporary.
He doesn’t want to think about that right now, though. Not when Phil is squeezing around him so tightly and he’s making these sounds, like he feels just as good as Dan does. So instead he does what any sensible person would do, sitting up and reaching down to take Phil’s dripping cock in his hand.
Phil keens, and Dan hides his pleased smile against Phil’s knee. “Good?” He asks softly.
Phil nods jerkily. “Really good,” he breathes. “Just, ah-“ he flaps his hand vaguely. “Bit dry.”
“Oh, hang on.” Dan pulls his hand away in search of the lube, but keeps idly thrusting his hips while he searches the sheets for it. Phil whines, and Dan glances down at him with a smirk. “There it is,” he says, brandishing the little bottle triumphantly when he spots it near Phil’s shoulder.
“Pour some more on you, too,” Phil says, reaching up to hold his thighs close to his chest so Dan can pull out.
Dan nods, resting a hand against the back of one of Phil’s thighs as he dribbles a bit over the length of his cock, pushing back in gently and glancing up at Phil to gauge his reaction. “Is that good enough?” He asks.
“Yeah,” Phil nods, gripping at his own hair. “I just don’t like the drag when it starts drying out.”
Dan smiles. He loves learning all these little intricacies about his favorite person. “You like it wet, no shame in that,” he teases, pouring a dollop on his hand and tossing the bottle to the side before wrapping Phil up in a tight grip. He’s learned a few things about how Phil likes to have his dick touched over the weeks that they’ve been doing this, and nothing is better than getting to practice them all.
Phil blushes at what Dan said, but doesn’t argue. “God,” he murmurs instead. “I’m getting really close, baby.”
Dan’s whole body tingles at the pet name. “Okay,” he murmurs, using his free hand to drag Phil’s legs back over his shoulders. He kisses Phil’s knee, trailing across to nip gently at a bit of thigh. Phil jerks, and Dan smiles down at him innocently.
“Cannibal,” Phil says affectionately.
“You like it,” Dan argues.
Phil doesn’t deny it. Instead, he shifts his hips to grind up against Dan, his eyes fluttering closed as Dan tightens his grip, wanking Phil’s cock with purpose. Phil sighs, a little punched out noise that has Dan feeling desperate, his hips driving in faster and harder to reach that place that Phil’s at.
It doesn’t take long. Listening to Phil’s noises and feeling his tight, wet heat around Dan’s cock are recipes for an early finish, but Dan is still a little impressed at how long he’s managed to hold out. Still, he feels a little bad for how quickly he’s approaching that finish line, with Phil still whining and twitching beneath him, like he can’t quite reach it himself.
“C’mon, bub,” Dan breathes, nipping at Phil’s thigh again and twisting his wrist on an upstroke. “I want you to come first.”
“I’m trying,” Phil whines. “It’s- it’s too much, too-“
Dan gets a weird idea. Weird, because, well, it feels incredible to be buried inside Phil’s body like this, as close as two people can be, and honestly someone would have to fight to pull him away from that any other time.
So it’s weird that instead, he pulls out gently, shushing Phil’s noise of protest as he crawls down Phil’s body so that he’s level with Phil’s cock. “Oh,” Phil breathes when Dan ghosts his lips over the tip, dragging his mouth down lower to kiss and suck at his balls. His hands go exploring, searching lower until he finds exactly what he’s looking for.
Phil groans when Dan pushes two fingers inside, and Dan hears the complaint before Phil has a chance to make it. “Your hand’s too dry, Danny.”
“Shh, I know,” Dan placates him, pulling his hand out after a gentle prod around. He glances up at Phil for a second, and when he sees that Phil’s got his eyes closed, head thrown back, Dan grins. Phil’s a little on the shy side about certain parts of sex, and so he’s not sure how Phil would feel about this particular idea if Dan were to ask him.
So instead of asking with words, Dan gives a last gentle kiss to Phil’s balls, then kisses further down, slow enough that Phil could stop him if he wanted.
He doesn��t.
Dan reaches his destination and places a light kiss to the pink puffy rim before him, and he hears Phil’s sharp intake of breath.
“Dan,” he breathes, his voice tight.
“Can I?” Dan asks, excited. He loves doing this for people, even though it wasn’t something he was often allowed.
Phil seems to be struggling to decide. “I...”
Dan kisses him there again, gently. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he says softly, looking up at Phil with what he hopes are perfect puppy eyes.
Phil reaches down, brushing Dan’s damp, curling hair out of his eyes. “Yeah,” he agrees after a moment. “Just...” He looks embarrassed.
Dan thinks he gets that. He’s not usually shy about sex like Phil is, but he understands how nerve wracking this particular sex act is, especially with a new partner. “I’ll make it good for you,” he promises, grabbing Phil’s hand and pressing a quick kiss to his palm.
Phil rubs his thumb over Dan’s lips. “I know,” he says softly. He shifts to give Dan more room, and Dan takes that as an invitation.
He dives back in, gentle, just like he promised. He starts with kisses at first, just gentle brushes of his lips while one hand reaches up to wank Phil’s cock, which is still rock hard and hot. Dan slowly introduces a bit of tongue, just an occasional brush against Phil’s rim until he hears him whimper. Dan can tell without looking that it’s a good noise, Phil’s legs shaking with pleasure.
After that, Dan’s a little less cautious. He’s basically making out with Phil’s hole, so he fully commits to it, pressing his tongue in as far as it’ll go, using one hand to hold Phil in place. He struggles to get the position right at first, but then Phil’s hands appear, reaching down to hold himself open, giving Dan plenty of space to work. Dan glances up at him with a grin and a wink. “Thanks,” he mumbles against Phil’s puffy hole as he dives back in.
He laps and sucks and fucks him with his tongue, and eventually Phil is grabbing his hair, moaning loudly above him. Dan will pat himself on the back for this later, but right now he just really, really wants to make Phil come.
“Close,” Phil breathes. “Really fucking close.”
Dan doubles his efforts, wanking him fast and sucking hard and it takes just two, three strokes, and then Phil’s body is seizing up, tight like a wire before he finally releases with a long sigh.
Dan kisses his hole once more, nuzzling his thigh gently before kissing his way back up, lapping at the come cooling on Phil’s stomach just a bit, just enough that Phil groans and squeezes his eyes shut when he looks down and sees him.
Then, Dan decides it’s his turn. He’s hard and aching and ready to burst, but he’s polite enough to give Phil some space to recover. For a moment, at least, and then he’s tugging the condom off and swinging his legs over Phil, rutting his cock against the come smeared all over his stomach.
“Fuck, Dan,” Phil groans. “You’re gonna make me hard again.”
Dan shrugs. “That’s fine. We can go again. Maybe you can fuck me this time,” he says with a cheeky grin. He’s mostly kidding. He’s already feeling exhausted, and at this point he just wants to come his brains out and then immediately pass the fuck out for the night.
Phil seems to be on the same page. “Maybe another night,” he says vaguely, reaching forward and gripping Dan’s hips. “Come here, I’ll blow you the rest of the way.”
Dan smiles and crawls up Phil’s body to straddle his chest, holding his cock to Phil’s lips. “Here comes the airplane,” Dan says in a stupid voice.
“Shut up,” Phil laughs. He tugs Dan forward by his ass, holding his mouth open like a baby bird.
Dan really needs to stop with the childish references before he gives himself a complex.
Instead, he focuses on the feeling of Phil’s mouth. Dan thinks that he’s got this down to a science by now, knows all the right places Dan likes to have touched when he’s getting a blowjob, knows the exact pressure he can use when sucking to really make Dan’s eyes roll back in his head. It’s kind of perfect, if he’s being completely honest.
It doesn’t take him long, not with how long he’s been aching to come, and when he does it’s with a long whine and a full-body shiver. Phil swallows and gives his cock a sweet little kiss, looking up at him with this adoring smile.
“I love it when you do that,” he says.
Dan quirks an eyebrow. “Do what? Come in your mouth?” He smirks.
Phil rolls his eyes, pinching his naked hip in reprimand. “No. That cute little shiver thing you do when you come. It makes me feel like I did a good job.”
And that’s... really adorable, that Phil would even be worried about that.
Dan scoots himself down Phil’s chest so that he’s laying flat on top of him, then smashes their lips together messily. He can taste himself on Phil’s tongue, sharp and salty and a little bit gross. He still likes it though, probably more than he should. So he lets himself indulge for a while, relaxing his weight onto Phil’s body and plying him with kisses.
Eventually, Phil pushes him away a bit. “I’m covered in semen,” he says matter-of-factly.
Dan sits up, looking down at the mess now smeared across both of their chests. “I suppose we both are,” he observes. “Wonder what we ought to do about that.”
Phil smiles tiredly. “Can we just do a quick wash up? I’m really tired.”
“Sure,” Dan nods. He goes to climb off of Phil’s lap, when a thought hits him. “Should we do some more photos?”
Phil flinches. “Now?”
Dan shrugs. “Yeah. I mean... I’m all debauched, I reckon that’s what you’re going for, right?”
Phil stares at him for a long time. Dan feels his gaze like a brand, and it makes him twitch. Finally, Phil shakes his head. “No. I got enough photos for that part.”
“Oh,” Dan says slowly. “Okay.”
There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other, and then Phil leans back, closing his eyes. “Can you go get something to clean us up with?” His voice is flat.
Dan’s heart squeezes. “Sure,” he whispers. He feels chastised, even if Phil really hadn’t said anything out of order. He climbs off of Phil gingerly, being careful not to touch him more than necessary. It feels wrong, now, to be this naked together, and Dan makes sure to grab his pants from the floor on his way out, as well a random shirt. It’s probably not his, but they’ve fallen into a habit of sharing clothes a lot lately so there’s a good chance that it might be.
He goes to the bathroom and wets a cloth, carefully cleaning himself up and dressing in silence. His heart is racing all of a sudden, like he’s two seconds away from a panic attack, and he really, really doesn’t want to deal with that on top of everything else right now.
Quietly, he returns to Phil’s bedroom with the damp cloth, hovering by the bed awkwardly, looking down at Phil, whose eyes are still closed. His breathing is too uneven for him to be asleep, but Dan feels strange, like he’s not supposed to speak to him when he’s like this. He tries not to think about which part of his childhood instilled this particular behavior.
“I can feel you staring at me,” Phil says suddenly, interrupting the weird, tense silence.
“Sorry,” Dan mumbles.
Phil blinks up at him, and Dan’s never seen him look so tired. Like the weight of the universe is clinging to his shoulders. “Clean me up?” He asks, voice soft.
Dan’s shoulders relax and he lets out a breath. “Yeah, course,” he murmurs. He drags the cloth over Phil’s chest and stomach, wiping away all the evidence of their activities, then carefully cleans up around his dick before going lower. Phil hisses, and Dan stops immediately. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just sensitive. Be gentle.” Phil looks at him with kind eyes, like he already knows that Dan will do his best.
“Yeah,” Dan agrees. He carefully cleans up the tacky, drying lube, and when he’s finished, he holds the cloth in his hand, slightly disgusted.
“Just toss it wherever,” Phil says, flapping a hand, uncaring. “It’ll get into the wash eventually.”
Dan at least has the decency to drop it far enough from the bed that there’s very little chance that either of them will step on it, but with empty hands, he’s suddenly unsure of his purpose. He shifts awkwardly near the door, hesitating. He wants to stay, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed. They don’t always sleep together after, well, sleeping together, but tonight... Dan really fucking wants to.
“Are you coming to bed or are you just going to stand there creeping?” Phil asks eventually, looking over at Dan like he’s gone crazy.
Dan could crumple with relief at that. “Yeah,” he says, making his way back across the room and sliding into bed next to Phil. “I wasn’t sure if, like, you wanted me to stay.”
Phil snorts. Dan tries not to be offended, since he doesn’t really know the reason for the rather unattractive sound. “I always want you to stay,” Phil mumbles, wrapping around Dan like an octopus once he’s settled.
“Me too,” Dan whispers, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist. He’s clinging, but Phil is too, a bit, so Dan doesn’t feel too guilty. He does realize, however, that Phil is still naked. This feels like it needs to be said. “You’re naked,” he says softly, stroking Phil’s shoulder with gentle sweeps.
“Mm,” Phil hums. “Yeah. That okay?”
Dan snorts. “Of course. As long as you’re comfy.”
Phil nuzzles him then, like a proper nuzzle, and Dan knows he’s not going to be able to escape his very real feelings for much longer.
“Dan?” Phil says eventually, breaking the lull of almost-sleep Dan has fallen into.
“Hm?” Dan mumbles, his eyes already closed.
Phil’s quiet for long enough that Dan is mostly asleep when he speaks again. “You like me, don’t you?”
Dan hums, a sleep-drunk noise that’s barely coherent.
“Dan,” Phil says again, nudging him. “You do, right?”
“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, sighing noisily and snuggling in close to Phil. “Like you best,” he says nonsensically.
Phil makes a noise then, that Dan’s mostly-asleep brain deciphers as a pleased noise. He whispers something against Dan’s hair, but Dan loses it to the clutches of sleep.
~~~
When Dan wakes up, he knows something is wrong. It’s still dark out, but the bed is empty and the sheets are cold, and even as he tries to claw his way out of the haze of sleep, he knows that something about that should raise some alarm.
“Phil?” He calls, patting around on the bed for his phone. The screen is too bright when it powers on, showing a hideous three a.m. that makes Dan want to gag. But part of him, the part that’s spent maybe fourteen nights with Phil so far, is very concerned about this turn of events.
Quietly, as if there’s someone to wake, he crawls out of the bed, shivering in the chilled air. He quickly grabs a random blanket that’s thrown over the back of Phil’s desk chair, wrapping it around his shoulders as he goes in search of Phil.
A peek into the bathroom and kitchen has him coming up empty, so he journeys into the lounge, unnerved by how quiet and dark everything is. He shivers as he turns slowly in the space, and his breath catches when he sees movement out on the balcony.
He relaxes when he realizes that it’s Phil, and paces over to see what the fuck has him out of bed and in the cold, half-dressed at three in the morning. Dan taps on the glass door before he slides it open, making sure Phil isn’t startled by his presence.
It appears he needn’t have bothered, as Phil barely glances at him when Dan steps out on the balcony. Instead, he stares out at the sky before him, not sparing Dan a single look.
Dan can’t take the silence for long. “Having a nice freeze?” He jokes quietly.
Phil doesn’t laugh. His lips barely twitch. “Yeah,” he says flatly.
Dan shuffles, looking down at his feet. He’s already freezing, and he’s got far more layers on than Phil. Phil, who is only wearing a t-shirt and Sonic-printed pants that peek out from under his shirt just a bit. “Are you cold?” He asks softly.
“Why’re you out of bed?” Phil asks, ignoring his question.
Dan startles a bit at his tone. “I was looking for you,” he says, almost petulant. “I woke up alone, and I wanted to know where you were.”
“Well, you found me,” he says. He still doesn’t look at Dan.
“Yeah,” Dan says slowly. “Wishing I didn’t, to be honest.”
Phil finally glances at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Hm,” is all he says.
“Why’re you being a dick?” Dan asks bluntly. He’s always been one to get straight to the point, as he’s been told by many people in his life.
Phil sighs, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low. “I don’t mean to be. I’m just tired.”
Dan takes a risk, stepping forward to stand between Phil’s knees. “So come back to bed,” he mumbles, nudging Phil’s knee playfully with his own.
Phil’s lips twitch in an almost-real smile, and Dan savors that victory while he can. This turns out to be a good thing, because when Phil opens his mouth, it’s not what Dan wants to hear. “You can go back to bed. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
Dan frowns. “I don’t want to go back to bed unless you come too.” He sounds like a child, but he can’t help it.
Apparently Phil picks up on the whiny tone, as well. “Dan, I’m really not in the mood,” he sighs.
“In the mood for what?” Dan demands, his temper flaring.
Phil rolls his eyes. That pisses Dan off even more, if it’s possible. “To argue. Just, go to sleep, or watch tv, or something.”
Dan hates himself for it, but he feels rejected. “I’m not trying to argue with you,” he starts, wrapping his arms around himself as a gust of wind blows over the balcony. Phil shivers, and Dan’s heart clenches. “You’re cold,” he says gently.
“I’m fine.”
“Right.”
“Dan, just...” Phil sighs, rubbing his eyes.
Dan doesn’t want to hear what he’s about to say. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks suddenly, his stomach twisting with the thought. London at three in the morning was a terrifying place.
“Of course not,” Phil replies vehemently. “I want you to stay, I just...” he sighs, running his hands through his hair and making it stand up at funny angles. “My head’s being loud,” he murmurs eventually.
“Oh,” Dan replies. This is really the first time Phil has shared this side of himself, this side that feels pain and annoyance and discomfort.
“Yeah,” Phil says. “So I came out here to try and clear it.”
Dan feels guilty, suddenly. “And then I came out here and made it worse,” he fills in.
Phil shakes his head immediately, reaching out for Dan and gripping his hip. “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“It’s okay,” Dan mumbles. He hates his body’s natural reaction to this kind of stress, as he can feel hot tears pinpricking his eyes. He blinks rapidly, hoping Phil won’t notice.
Of course, Phil notices. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling Dan in to sit on his lap.
Dan goes willingly, settling into Phil’s arms that wrap around him, one hand coming up to rub his back in gentle sweeps. “Sorry,” Dan mumbles, wiping at his eyes with the edge of the blanket.
“It’s okay,” Phil says softly. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“You didn’t,” Dan immediately says. It’s a lie, but his natural instinct is apparently protect Phil first and then feel guilty about it later.
Phil kisses his cheek. “I know that I did,” he says gently. “I’m sorry.”
Dan stays quiet, nuzzling against Phil’s neck, curling up as if he can make himself smaller by sheer will alone.
They sit in silence for a long while and then eventually, Phil sighs. “We should go back to bed.”
“Is your head still loud?” Dan asks.
Phil pats his back, prompting him to climb off his lap. “It is, but it’s fine. I’ll go to sleep eventually.”
Dan doesn’t move from his spot, chewing on his lip as he considers something. He turns so that he’s facing Phil, offering a timid grin. “I think I have a better idea.”
~~~
“This is not exactly what I thought you had in mind,” Phil says, his voice sounding very skeptical.
Dan huffs. “Quit being a hater,” he says, snuggling back against Phil. They’re sat on the sofa, Phil leaning back against the arm with Dan tucked between his legs, his back pressed to Phil’s chest.
Phil kisses his neck. “Sorry. What’re we doing again?” He wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, squeezing him like a teddy bear. Dan doesn’t mind being that teddy bear at all.
“You’re gonna help me decorate my island and my house on the new Animal Crossing game,” Dan informs him, leaving no room for debate.
“And why are we doing this instead of sleeping?”
“Because you said you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep,” Dan says, rolling his eyes.
Phil kisses his neck again, and nuzzles at his shoulder, biting gently and playfully. “Okay, so instead of not-sleeping,” he says, a certain lilt to his voice. “Why are we doing this?”
Dan tilts his head to give him a look. “Because this is just a mindless little video game, and I think it would make you feel better to focus on something unimportant for right now. Something that’ll keep your brain busy but not in a bad way, you know?”
Phil looks at him for what feels like a long time before finally nodding. He kisses Dan’s cheek softly, lingering just a little. “Okay, fine. Let’s check out this island, then.”
~~~
“That is so tacky,” Dan complains.
“It’s not!”
“Phil, it doesn’t match.”
“So?”
Dan groans, crossing his arms petulantly. He’d handed the switch over to Phil when he realized that Phil was already familiar with the concept of Animal Crossing. He hadn’t played New Horizons yet, though, so Dan thought this was a perfect opportunity to get a taste of the game before he committed to buying it for himself.
“I’m gonna have so much to fix when you get done playing,” Dan complains.
Phil pinches his thigh. “Shut up, rat. Now where can I go with all these fossils? Should we sell them?”
Dan screeches, a fair impression of a pterodactyl. “No! Take them to the museum, you tit.”
Phil giggles behind him, and Dan feels it vibrate against his back. “Fine, fine. Where’s the museum?”
Sighing loudly in a very put-upon way, Dan guides him through the game to where his museum is located, screeching and complaining when Phil gets his lefts and rights confused and can’t figure it out. By the time Phil gets there, they’re both giggling uncontrollably, poking at each other repeatedly just to start laughing again. It’s so nice, Dan thinks. This is just what they needed. Even if it is nearly five in the morning and they’ve gotten absolutely no sleep, this is what they needed.
“Hey,” Phil says softly after a few minutes, once they’ve mostly settled down.
“Hm?” Dan replies, watching the screen as Phil makes Dan’s character run around in circles.
“Thank you, for this.” Phil’s voice is quiet, and it almost feels like too much, there in the darkness when they’re wrapped around each other like this.
“Of course,” Dan murmurs to him, tilting his head back and puckering his lips for a kiss. Phil grants him with a gentle peck, and Dan turns back to the game, pretending that the pointless kiss didn’t send an army of butterflies raging through his chest.
“You really knew exactly what I needed to calm down,” Phil says, sounding almost in awe of the fact.
Dan snorts. “Of course. You’re my best friend, Phil.” He hesitates, then, nervous that he may have crossed a line that he’s not ready to cross. “I mean- I may not be yours, and like, that’s fine, I just-“
“You’re mine, too,” Phil says quickly. Dan glances up in time to see Phil blushing. “You’re my best friend.”
They stare at each other for a minute that feels like forever, and then Dan clears his throat. “Right. Glad we got that cleared up,” he says, trying to joke.
Phil tightens his grip on Dan’s waist, and Dan tries to pretend that it doesn’t make his heart pound. “Should we go back to bed?” Phil says softly.
Dan smirks at that. “Round two?”
He feels a laugh vibrate against his back and a kiss pressed to the top of his head. “Don’t know about that, babe. I’m actually kind of exhausted.”
“Yeah,” Dan agrees. “It’s getting late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.”
Phil sighs, nodding. “And I’ve got to meet Martyn in the morning.” For all the time Dan has known him, Phil has never sounded so upset about meeting up with his brother.
“Well we definitely need to hit the sack, then,” Dan says. He pats Phil’s arm that’s wrapped around his waist and sits up. “C’mon, bub. To bed, to bed.”
Phil allows himself to be pulled off the sofa and down the hall into his room. Dan tugs Phil’s shirt off with no other intention than making Phil more comfortable, and Phil’s got a soft look on his face when his head emerges. Dan brings a hand up to rest at Phil’s neck, rubbing his thumb over his pulse gently. It’s a moment that feels like it’s suspended in time, their breaths evening out to match. Dan thinks that maybe, maybe this is what it would feel like if they were actually together. Maybe this hot air balloon feeling would be comfortable someday, if he was allowed to grow more used to it. As it is now, it’s so unfamiliar that Dan feels like he might choke with how overwhelming his feelings are.
“Dan,” Phil breathes in the limited space between their lips.
The moment is shattered, and Dan forces himself to pull away. “I’m tired,” he says. His voice is flat.
He doesn’t miss the hurt on Phil’s face, for the flash of a second that it’s there. It’s gone before he gets the chance to feel properly guilty over it, and Phil’s turning away, crawling under the sheets without a word.
Dan settles on the side he’s come to think of as his own, but there’s an undeniable tension in the air between them now. He pretends there’s not, reaching out and turning off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight,” he whispers once he resettles.
He’s greeted with silence.
~~~
The next morning, Dan wakes up alone.
The light is streaming in through Phil’s shitty blinds, and Dan groans out his discomfort, flailing about like he can will the sunshine away by sheer force alone. It doesn’t work, obviously, but his flailing about does bring his attention to the emptiness of the bed.
He sits up, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes with sleep-numb fingers. “Phil?” he calls out. His voice echoes in the quiet of the room.
When he doesn’t immediately hear a reply, Dan starts worrying, because of course he does. He’s never woken up totally alone in Phil’s flat. On the rare occasions when Phil isn’t still in bed with him, Dan always finds him in the kitchen or bathroom, or somewhere. But a quick search of the flat has him coming up empty and he’s trying not to panic, really he is, but he actually can’t help it.
He calms down a little when he notices a note pinned to the fridge. It’s a little ridiculous how relieved he is when he pulls it down to read it.
Dan-
I would’ve texted but I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m just out to breakfast with Martyn. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.
I hope you’ll still be there when I get home.
Phil
He’s signed the note with a heart beside his name, and Dan refuses to think about how that makes him feel. Instead he focuses on the last part. I hope you’ll still be there when I get home. The idea that Phil would still want to see him again, after the awkwardness of the night before, makes his heart pound. He feels almost sick with guilt over how he’d acted. But he had been so overwhelmed, with the sex and the emotions that came with it. It was no surprise that he was pushing Phil away by the end of the night.
Dan sighs, folding the note carefully and making his way back to Phil’s bedroom. He tucks the note into his backpack, and then he just sort of stops. He’s not sure what to do, alone in Phil’s flat. It’s not something that’s ever happened before, he realizes with a start. Of course he’s spent the night with Phil before, several times by now, but this is the first time he’s found himself waking up alone on a Saturday in the other man’s flat, with no real idea of when he’s coming back. It’s probably stupid, how much he’s already missing Phil, when he’s got no idea how long he’s even been gone.
It takes Dan a few minutes of searching, but eventually he finds his phone amidst the sheets, and he sighs when he doesn’t see any notifications. He debates with himself for a minute or two, but ultimately decides that yes, he is that pathetic, and opens his chat with Phil. All he does is type out a quick “good morning” before going to find a phone plug, a mocking thirteen percent glaring at him from the top of his screen.
He’s barely gotten the phone plugged in when it vibrates with a notification. It buzzes two more times before Dan manages to swipe over to the messages, and he grins when he sees what’s there.
Phil: hi!
Phil: why did we stay up so late 😭
Phil: I swear I have some sort of weird sober hangover
Dan grins as he types out a response, leaning awkwardly on Phil’s desk as he does.
Dan: Idk bub I guess maybe you should’ve stayed in bed
Dan: you know, instead of abandoning me
Phil: I had to meet my brother!
Dan: I’m naked though
It’s sort of a lie, since Dan is wearing a pair of Phil’s pants, but he could easily be naked, if he was so inclined.
Phil: ..... okay maybe I should’ve stayed at home
Dan smirks to himself. This part of their arrangement, at least, is easy.
Dan: where r u guys at
Phil: That cafe close to the park
Phil: The one you said had hipster vibes
Dan: ew of course martyn would like that place
Dan’s never actually met him but from what he hears from Phil, Martyn’s definitely the hipster-y type.
Phil: You wanna come meet us? Martyn keeps asking about you
Dan: you want me to meet your brother?
He’s trying to be normal about this. Because really, that’s a normal thing. Friends do that. Friends meet their friends’ siblings and families all the time.
It’s the “friends” part that Dan is having trouble with, actually.
Phil: Yes.
Dan hesitates. That does sound kind of nice, actually, but something in him doesn’t really know what his answer should be. He knows what he wants it to be, of course. He definitely knows that.
He must take too long to answer, because suddenly his phone is vibrating in his hand, the constant vibrate of an incoming call. Of course it’s Phil, and of course Dan answers almost immediately.
“I still can’t believe you’re the kind of person who just calls when they don’t get a text back,” Dan says in lieu of a hello.
Phil sounds like he’s smiling when he replies. “Come to the cafe. I’ll buy you breakfast.”
Dan makes a considering noise, as if he’s not already digging around Phil’s dresser for something to wear. “Alright, fine. But I’m not putting out.”
Phil laughs. “Yes you will,” he says quietly. Dan wonders if Martyn can hear both sides of this conversation. “Now hurry up. I want another croissant, but I don’t wanna order twice.”
“Okay but I’m borrowing your clothes,” Dan says, tugging on a pair of dark grey sweats. He goes to the closet, looking through the selection with pursed lips.
“Fine,” Phil says, unbothered. “Wear something warm, it’s cold out.”
Dan smiles. “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Bye, Dan.” The call disconnects with a click, leaving Dan to select a shirt in silence. He debates with himself for all of a minute before tugging at Phil’s hoodie from his university days, tugging it over his head easily. It’s hideous, but it makes him feel warm when he wears it, both literally and figuratively. It’s well worn with all the years of use it’s seen, but it also makes Dan feel a little possessive. As if anyone who sees him will somehow assume that he belongs to someone just because of a stupid sweater, with a university insignia on it that’s not his own.
He tells his brain to shut the hell up as he makes his way out of Phil’s flat, locking the door behind him with the spare key Phil keeps above the door. He considers slipping it into his pocket but figures that if he comes back it’ll be with Phil anyway, so it would be pointless to pocket the key.
It’s a short walk to the cafe he’s headed for, but he still tucks his AirPods in and scrolls through one of his many pretentiously named playlists until he finds one of his favorite Frank Ocean songs, one that’s really good to listen to while he walks. He hums along as he walks, stuffing his hands in his borrowed hoodie pocket. Phil wasn’t joking about the weather, and Dan’s already regretting his lack of undershirt as the wind nips at every bit of exposed skin.
When the cafe comes into sight, it’s a very welcome thing, and Dan stuffs his AirPods back in their case as he pushes the door open. There’s no happy little bell ringing out the sound of his arrival, not like the little cafe that he and Phil always go to on their own. Still, it’s a warm building, and somewhere in it is the promise of food and Phil, so Dan is pleased to be there anyway.
It doesn’t take him long to spot Phil and his brother sitting at a table towards the back of the cafe. And from the goofy look on Phil’s face, it didn’t take them long to spot him either.
“Hi,” he says when he reaches the table. He didn’t realize it until now, as he’s face to face with the infamous older Lester brother, but he’s nervous. He’s so nervous to meet someone that he knows is so important to a person who’s so important to him.
“Hi,” Phil parrots, sliding over and patting the space of booth next to him. “Cute top,” he smirks as he looks over Dan’s outfit, making Dan’s cheeks flame in mild embarrassment.
When Dan slides in, he offers a smile to the stranger across from them, unsure what to say. He turns to Phil with the intentions of making some sort of joke, but he’s thrown off track by Phil leaning in, planting a short kiss right on his mouth. Dan startles away, his heart racing as he shoots a panicked glance over to Phil’s brother.
Martyn looks completely unbothered, and more unsurprised than Dan thinks he’s really got a right to. “So you must be Dan,” he says, his tone neutral. He’s got a smirk on his face, or what Dan thinks might be one if his eyes weren’t also a bit smiley. “Unless my brother is just in the habit of kissing strange boys.” He sends Phil a funny look, his mouth doing a mimicry of Phil’s precious tongue bite thing.
“Er-“ Dan says with an awkward laugh. “Yeah, I’m Dan.”
Martyn reaches his hand across the table, and Dan accepts the handshake, still a little shaken by the weirdness of the whole encounter. He’s trying not to think about the other reason he feels a little shaken, or the way his lips feel decidedly tingly from Phil’s kiss.
“I’m Martyn, his brother. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Martyn is saying. Dan forces himself to pay attention. “Phil never shuts up about you.”
“Martyn,” Phil hisses. There’s a thudding noise and Martyn winces. Dan knows without asking that Phil just kicked him. Phil smiles sweetly at Dan, and Dan can’t help but lean into the warmth of his gaze. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“Hm,” Dan hums thoughtfully. “There was mention of croissants?”
Phil rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’ll go get you your usual carb selection. Scooch.”
Dan dimples up at him as he slides out of the booth so that Phil can get up to go order. As Phil passes him, Dan makes a split-second decision and kisses his cheek, his body desperate to release some of the affectionate energy he’s got stored up from a morning without him. “Get me something sweet too?” Dan requests as he slides back into the booth.
Phil grins at him. “You’ve already got me, though!”
Martyn makes a retching noise and Dan feels himself blush as Phil trots over to the counter to order their food. Dan forgets to be nervous about being left alone with Phil’s brother for a second, so wrapped up in watching the awkward hand gestures Phil makes as he selects an array of croissants and muffins for them.
His brief reverie is ruined when he hears Martyn clear his throat from across the table. Dan jerks at the noise, startled. Martyn sends him an apologetic smile, and Dan finds himself relaxing. Martyn really isn’t that scary in person.
“If he wasn’t so tall, I’d swear he’s a hobbit,” Martyn says, nodding towards his brother.
It takes Dan a minute to think about it, but he grins when it clicks. “Are we on second breakfast or elevensies?” he jokes.
Martyn laughs, seemingly pleased that Dan understood the reference. “Definitely elevensies,” he says.
Dan smiles, shaking his head in fond exasperation as he sneaks another glance at Phil. “He eats like he’s been starved for twelve years. I don’t know where he puts it all,” Dan jokes, rolling his eyes.
Martyn grins. “One of the world’s greatest mysteries,” he agrees. He glances over at Phil for a second, like he’s checking that he’s still preoccupied, and then he’s turning back to Dan, a thoughtful look on his face. “Phil seems really happy these days.”
“Yeah?” Dan says lightly, trying his hardest not to let that go to his head. He can’t hide the smile it causes though, but he tries, biting down on his lip hard.
“Yeah,” Martyn confirms. He taps the table a little, peeking over his shoulder at Phil again. Phil’s chatting with the barista as they prepare the drinks, and Dan just knows that Phil is trying to tell some weird coffee joke that he tells every time he’s in a coffee shop. Dan’s attention is brought back to Martyn when he speaks again, his voice quieter than before. “We never thought he’d get over his ex-boyfriend, to be honest with you. He was so hung up over him, even after the breakup.” Martyn shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee with a pained look in his eyes.
Dan feels like he’s been doused in cold water all of a sudden, the thought of there being some other man, some other partner before him... But then again, he reminds himself bitterly, they aren’t partners. They’re just friends who... friends who sleep together sometimes. And that’s enough for Dan. But if that’s all they are, he can’t bear this- hearing about some ex-boyfriend that left Phil broken and obsessed. Some person out there that’s been lucky enough to have the parts of Phil that Dan himself isn’t allowed to have, and then wasted it. He can’t handle it.
Martyn doesn’t seem to notice the breakdown Dan is having, steamrolling right over the topic like it’s nothing. “So I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when Phil told me that he met someone.”
Dan startles at that. The way he phrased it makes it sound like Martyn has a very different perspective on their situation. Almost like Phil told him they were...
“Freshly made breakfast, per your request,” Phil announces as he appears beside the table, his arms laden with various treats and pastries.
“You say that like we don’t know they’re thawed out of a freezer every morning and then chucked in a microwave,” Martyn says, grinning.
“Well... they smell delicious, so surely that counts for something,” Phil says, flapping a hand, completely unbothered by Martyn’s comment. He starts sorting out the food, and Dan doesn’t realize he’s staring until Phil turns to speak to him, freezing when he catches the undoubtedly intense look on Dan’s face. “Are you okay?” Phil asks, his voice dropping to something soft.
Dan nods, trying to shake himself out of it. It’s fine. Everything is fine, so he needs to get a grip and get over himself. “Did you forget our coffee?” He asks, looking pointedly at the table.
Phil makes an offended noise, immediately followed by an “oh- yeah.”
Dan rolls his eyes, looking over at Martyn and shaking his head with a mocking thumb pointed in Phil’s direction. Dan can’t help but grin when Martyn laughs at that. “Scoot over, I’ll go get the coffee,” Dan says, patting Phil’s thigh.
Before he gets the chance to get up, a barista is appearing at their table with two cups of coffee, a small smile on their face. “You forgot your coffee,” they say pleasantly.
Phil looks embarrassed, but nods. “Thank you so much.” He pushes Dan’s cup to him as he gestures at his own head vaguely, saying, “one brain cell, and all that.”
The barista laughs and nods. “Same. Have a lovely day, guys.”
Dan waits until they walk back to the counter and out of earshot before he looks over at Martyn, nodding his head in Phil’s direction. “I can’t believe he told them he had one whole brain cell.” His voice is dripping with false disappointment, and he ignores the noise of protest from Phil.
Martyn grins though, clearly finding this banter delightful. “Right? He’s obviously only got half of one.”
“Hey!” Phil whines. “You can’t team up against me. It’s not fair.”
Dan reaches over and squeezes his knee, letting his hand linger for much longer than is actually necessary. “Don’t worry, bub. I have the other half.”
Phil looks surprised for a second, and Dan revels in the way that look melts into one of delighted affection. Turning to his brother, Phil sticks his tongue out childishly.
Martyn rolls his eyes, reaching over and snatching a croissant, dipping it in his coffee in a decidedly Lester fashion. “You’re a child,” he tells Phil mockingly.
Of course, Phil, ever the younger brother, retorts with a truly impressive: “I know you are but what am I?”
~~~
It’s nearly an hour later when Martyn makes his exit. He apologizes but says he’s got to get back home to his girlfriend, who has some kind of stomach flu. Phil mocks him for leaving her alone all morning, but Martyn has this oddly unbothered look, waving it off and saying, “she’s fine. Corny is a tough bird. She doesn’t need or want me to coddle her.” Phil says he can’t really argue with him there, and they laugh about it, making it clear that there’s something to this Cornelia person that Dan doesn’t quite get, having never met her.
They all clear off their trash and dishes from the table before Phil and Dan follow Martyn to the door. They pause as they stand outside, Martyn and Phil making plans to hang out again sometime the next week. Dan feels sort of awkward stood there, as they haven’t included him in this bit of the conversation, so he pulls his phone out, messing about on Twitter until he hears his name. He tunes back in, glancing up to find Martyn looking at him with a smile.
“Sorry, what?” he asks, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. God, way to look stupid in front of a stranger.
“I just asked if you’d be coming with Phil, when we go out next weekend,” Martyn says, with the air of someone who is not used to accepting no for an answer.
“Oh, er...” Dan looks to Phil helplessly, but Phil just shrugs. He’s smiling encouragingly, like he wants Dan to say yes, so Dan gives Martyn an awkward, uncertain nod. “Uh, sure. Where are you guys going?”
“We’re going with Martyn and Cornelia to have dinner and maybe clubbing a little bit,” Phil replies, giving Dan an apologetic look. He knows how Dan feels about clubbing, and something about that fills Dan with such an ooey-gooey warmth that he finds himself agreeing to it easily, despite how much he despises the club scene.
“Sure, I’m in. Sounds fun,” Dan says with a smile.
Martyn looks pleased, and Dan is surprised when he holds his arms out for a hug. “Cool. Listen, it was nice meeting you, mate. Be good to my little brother, okay?”
“O-kay,” Dan says, stuttering through the word just a bit. He can’t hide his surprise, though, and it only melts into confusion when Martyn pulls away with a wink.
“Bye, Phil,” Martyn says, hugging Phil next. He mumbles something in his ear that Dan doesn’t catch, but Phil’s ears go pink, and Dan decides that he’ll be pestering Phil about it immediately after Martyn leaves.
“Goodbye, Martyn,” Phil says, a little bit strained. He waves his brother off, reaching out and catching Dan’s wrist with the one not waving. Dan thinks he probably means to hold his hand but just doesn’t have the coordination to do both at once.
Dan watches Martyn walk away, then turns to look at Phil. “Your flat is also that way,” he points out, unnecessarily, probably, considering Phil looks like he’d rather choke than have to walk with his brother. Dan’s dying to ask what Martyn could’ve possibly said that would make Phil react like this, but he’s going to give it a moment.
“I know,” Phil says, petulant. He’s a lip twitch away from a full-on pout.
“So... shouldn’t we also be going that way?” Dan teases.
Phil suddenly shakes his head, turning and tugging Dan in the opposite direction. “Nope. We’re going to the park.”
“Are we?” Dan laughs, letting himself be towed along.
“Yep,” Phil says, popping the ‘p’ as he says it. “Gonna buy some bread and feed some ducks.”
Dan shakes his head, adjusting the grip their hands are locked in so that their fingers are properly laced together. He tugs a little on Phil’s arm, slowing Phil down from where he’s walking a pace and a half quicker than Dan. “Bread is bad for ducks,” Dan remarks mindlessly.
“Hm,” Phil hums. He sounds distracted. “Fine, we’ll just look at the ducks.”
Dan shrugs. “Okay.” He waits for a beat. When it’s clear that Phil isn’t going to look at him or speak, Dan cracks. “So what did Martyn say?”
Phil’s face immediately flushes, an incredibly big tell for him. Dan bites back a laugh, squeezing Phil’s fingers reassuringly. “Nothing,” he says quickly. Another tell, and clearly he doesn’t know Dan very well if he thinks that Dan is just going to let it go.
“Come on,” Dan whines, tugging on Phil’s hand. “Tell me! I won’t leave you alone until you tell me.”
Phil rolls his eyes, tugging his hand out of Dan’s grip. Dan feels mildly offended for a moment, but he recovers quickly when he feels Phil’s arm wrap around his shoulders instead. “You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?” Phil asks as he tugs at a hoodie string, ignoring Dan’s pestering entirely.
“No, I’m not,” Dan says quickly, batting Phil’s hand away. “Quit trying to change the subject, I wanna know what he said.”
“It’s really cold out, Dan, you should’ve worn a t-shirt or something underneath this,” Phil continues, a little frown tugging at his lips.
Dan huffs. “I think you’re stalling,” he says.
Phil shrugs, looking away. His ears are still pink, and not the kind you only get from the cold. “I’m not,” he mumbles half-heartedly.
“Was it about me?” Dan asks, excited. He already knows it was, but the way Phil blushes confirms it for him. “It was! What was it?”
Phil sighs deeply. “If I tell you will you drop it?”
Dan nods, holding out his pinky for a sacred pinky-promise. Phil rolls his eyes, but locks their pinkies together anyway. “So?” Dan asks, giddy.
Phil’s quiet for a moment, pulling his arm away from Dan to shove his hands in his coat pockets. Dan feels the loss of his warmth immediately, and leans into his space to get a little of it back. “He told me that he was happy to see me happy,” Phil says quietly.
Dan’s heart squeezes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Phil says with a nod. “And...” he glanced over at Dan, looking away quickly with another flush to his cheeks. “He told me not to screw it up this time.”
At first, Dan is surprised that Martyn would tell him not to screw this up, considering he clearly doesn’t understand the arrangement they have, but then his brain processes the implications of that. Martyn had told Dan that Phil had gone through a terrible breakup, that they thought he’d never get over it... but what he said to Phil makes it sound like he was the one at fault. And despite the fact that they aren’t actually dating, that Dan doesn’t actually really know how Phil is in a romantic relationship, Dan just knows that this cannot be true.
“You couldn’t,” Dan says, leaving very little room for argument.
Phil gives him a strange look. “What?”
Dan clears his throat. “You couldn’t screw this up. You know that, right?”
Phil looks at him like he doesn’t quite agree, but shrugs. “I thought that last time, too,” he mumbles.
Dan’s heart jumps. Phil’s never told him about his previous relationships, and this feels like that might be where this conversation is headed. Dan doesn’t know if he can stand that. It was bad enough to hear Martyn tell it, Dan thinks he might actually be sick if he has to hear Phil tell it as well.
“Phil,” Dan murmurs, reaching out and touching his arm.
“It’s fine,” Phil says with a shrug. “This time will be different.” He turns to look at Dan, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Because you’re different.”
Dan has to pretend that doesn’t make his insides set alight, but oh god, it does. “Right,” Dan murmurs. He doesn’t even know what Phil meant by it, really. Is this different because they aren’t actually dating? Is it different because Dan isn’t like Phil’s mysterious ex? Dan is desperate to know, but he’s afraid to ask.
He didn’t realize how far they’d walked, but his spiral of ruinous thoughts is cut off by Phil tugging at his arm and pointing. “Look! Ducks!”
Dan still has questions, he still wants to know if there’s something else going on between them, but for now he decides to ignore it. There will inevitably come a day where he can’t ignore it, but he decides that today is not that day, and instead allows Phil to drag him over to where the family of ducks is quacking about near the pond.
~
#phanfiction#phanfic#photographer!phil#student!dan#model!dan (sort of)#strangers to friends to lovers#friends to lovers#best friends#miscommunication#angst#fluff#smut#break up#getting back together#photography fic#take a picture (it'll last longer)#tapill#part 2
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1 + 1 + 4 Renee/Dan if you do them
Grad school sic fic, in Abby's car! I've never tried Renee/Dan before but lemme give it a whirl!
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"Oh no. No you don't. Not this again."
Renee jolted at the voice, her arms shooting out from where they'd become a pillow of convenience over the seemingly endless pile of grading she had been working on before her impromptu nap. Essays went flying, as did at least two pens and a small dish of paperclips.
"Mm what?" Renee closed her eyes, desperately tried to push back the throbbing steadily chiseling a tunnel through her cranium, and then opened them again to look blearily up at the speaker.
As soon as the other woman came into focus, Renee snapped awake like she'd just downed three back-to-back espresso shots.
"Dan! What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be covering Professor Wymack's lectures today?"
Dan's brown eyes narrowed. "Yes, and I have been. Dad's got a break before his 5:15 lecture, remember?"
Renee blinked, she frowned, then blearily dragged her gaze from Dan to the clock on the wall. It took several long moments for the little dashes and squiggles to assemble into numbers, then she was half-falling out of her chair in a scrambled attempt to launch to her feet.
"I'm late!" she gasped. "Shoot! Oh no, oh no no no.. I'm supposed to be in Professor Dobson's class right now!" The movement was too much, though, and the blood in her body was sluggish in keeping up with the rapid lurching of her limbs. Instead of emerging from the chair upright and jogging to the door (which had been the idea), Renee's head got suddenly very fuzzy, her vision doubled, and her knees went out from under her.
"Whoa!"
Why.. was the floor so soft and strong and supple and warm? That didn't quite add up. It was a tile floor with a couple of mismatched area rugs that were about as worn-through as the office chairs (that was to say, just about threadbare). It shouldn't be this comfortable, shouldn't make her instantly feel this supported, this safe. It shouldn't cradle her like--
"Jesus Christ, Renee you're burning up. That's it. I'm taking you home. Now."
Dan's voice snapped her out of the weird tangent her mind was going on. It also brought her back into her own body enough to realize that the reason why the floor had felt weird to her apparently fevered brain was because she wasn't on the floor at all - she was leaning against Dan. The other grad assistant had caught her on her way down and was holding her up, one strong arm around her waist and the other cupped under one of her elbows.
Gathering the last vestiges of her strength, Renee reclaimed her weight and shakily pushed away from Dan. "What? No. No, I'm okay," she attempted to insist. "It--"
"You are not," Dan countered, her tone stubborn and firm. Renee and Dan... did not always get along. Renee did her best to cover the tension with smiles and aggressive politeness, whereas Dan skipped the politeness and instead antagonized the tension even more by being brash and intelligent and so freaking beautiful, especially in tank tops like the one she was wearing today because they showed off the breadth of her shoulders and the swell of her muscles and--
"Whoa whoa whoa!" Dan's arm was around her again, fingers snapping in Renee's face - which was something that Renee absolutely loathed when people did.
Forgetting herself, Renee snarled.
"Don't fucking do that!" she snapped without thinking.
It was like all the air sucked out of the room. A tense, stunned silence bristled between them like static electricity - and it took really far too long for Renee's brain to catch up to her mouth. When she finally realized what she'd done, Renee pressed her eyes shut, prayed for patience, and then opened her mouth to attempt an apology. Maybe she was feeling a bit sick...
Before she could say anything, though, Dan barked out a sharp, deep laugh that had Renee's eyes blinking open in surprise.
"Hot damn! Did Good Girl Renee just swear at me?"
Unamused, Renee's wide-eyed surprised shifted smoothly into a glower.
Dan smirked cheekily back. "Come on, you. I'm driving you home. I've got Mom's car today, though, so you've got to warn me if you need to throw up."
Renee grimaced, but since she still needed to lean significantly on Dan as the other woman began leading them out of the room, she didn't really think she was in the position to protest. Instead, as they maneuvered slowly down the stairs toward the parking lot of Foxx Hall, she asked, "Why do you have Professor Winfield's car?"
"Mine is in the shop," Dan said with a weary sigh.
"Again?"
Another sigh, heavy with exasperation. "Yes. My shithead little brother borrowed it over the weekend to go to his friend's house and somehow blew out both driver's side tires."
Renee chuckled in spite of herself. Her limbs were so heavy, her head impossible to keep up. She didn't mean to, but somewhere between the stairwell and the sidewalk she'd propped her head on Dan's shoulder.
"Hey, come on now." Dan's voice was soft. It was so warm, too. A little raspy, but with a steady glow - like a strong hearth, warming a home from its heart. "Stay with me, Renee. You can sleep when you get home. This is what you get for overworking yourself you know. You always push yourself too hard."
Renee didn't really know what to say to that, and by the time she'd finished actually computing all the words they were already at the car. Dan settled her into the front seat, even going so far as to lean in and buckle her seat belt. This seemed so strange, so right and so wrong at the same time, that Renee frowned and managed to lift her hand, tugging on Dan's sleeve before she could completely pull away.
"You can't stand me," she reminded the other woman. They worked together when they absolutely had to, sure - they were grown adults who could be civil in the workplace even with people they didn't get along with - but Dan had made it very clear from day one that she was not Renee's number one fan. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Dan looked startled for a moment, and the surprise smoothed out her face, widening her eyes so that Renee could see past those criminally long lashes to see the specks of bronze hidden in the deep brown of her irises. The moment didn't last long, and Dan signed, fixing Renee with a stern look.
"Of course not," she confirmed. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to just let you suffer. I'm an anthropologist not a monster."
Renee chuckled. "Fair. Mm. Thank you, Dan. It's nice."
"Sure, sure," Dan rumbled quietly, then shut the door.
Renee didn't quite remember giving Dan her address, or really most of the car ride. She just kept thinking about Dan, and how nice she smelled. How strong she was. How pretty her eyes were and how she rather wished Dan would smile at her the way she smiled at the other members of their department. She wasn't sure why Dan hated her, but maybe if she could figure it out and fix it, they could be friends. Or at least more friendly. She liked when Dan was friendly to her. It was a warm, good feeling. Warm, like Dan's eyes. And her laugh. And--
"Okay here we go! Keys! Got your keys?! I bet you have your keys, right?!"
Renee blinked, then she frowned, sitting up a bit and looking around. The car was parked at her building and Dan was sitting straight-backed in the driver's seat, her hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel.
"Dan?" Renee's voice came out a little mumble and dry. She had to swallow a few times to wet her throat. "What's wrong?"
Dan looked at her, eyes still a bit wide. Her mouth opened and closed a few times. Then she said, "You mean you don't-- you just-- I... nevermind. Yes. I'm fine. You're feverish and delirious and... let's just... I need to get you in bed. TO BED. Into. Your own bed. Without me. You're sick and delirious with fever."
Renee raised her eyebrows. "What?"
Without saying another word, Dan got out of the car, the door shutting loudly behind her. For a moment Renee thought Dan was going to leave her there, but that was ridiculous, because this was Professor Winfield's car - Dan wad going to need it to get back to campus and get home.
Before she'd even finished that fever target though, her own door was opening with Dan there to fetch her. Renee managed to unbuckle her own belt, but she had to let Dan help her out of the car. She passed the other woman her keys and directed them up to her third floor apartment, where Dan effortlessly got her not only all the way upstairs, but into the apartment and to her room.
"Someone will check in with you tomorrow but don't you dare come to campus you hear me? You take a few days, let your fever go down at least," Dan chided her as she very sternly tucked the covers in around her.
Surrounded by her own bed, though, Renee was already fading, sinking toward a sleep deep enough to banish her fever. Which was probably why she dropped right into a bizarre dream where Dan stayed, and put water on her bedside table and then sat on the edge of the bed stroking her hair. It was a dream, definitely, that before Dan finally left an indeterminate amount of time later, she leaned down and very gently brushed her lips against Renee's forehead. It had to be a dream, right? Because Dan.. Dan hated Renee.
Didn't she?
#aftg#aftg fanfic#aftg prompt game#dan wilds#renee walker#dan wilds x renee walker#danee?#sick fic#college au
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On Supergirl
Figured I should put up my thoughts about Kara in the wake of her first film appearance being announced, and the final season of her TV show fast approaching. Short version is: Kara is very cool and DC needs to stop messing with her.
My Introduction to Kara
I was introduced to Kara the way most millennials/Gen Zers were I imagine, via the Loeb Superman/Batman arc which brought the traditional Kara Zor-El Supergirl take into Post-Crisis continuity, after years of DC attempting to have a “Supergirl” without violating the editorial mandate that Kal needed to be the literal “Last Son of Krypton” (an example of one of the dumb ways DC fucked Kara over). Story goes that one day Dan Didio was in line at the Superman ride at Six Flags (I love that ride even though it’s stolen my glasses every time I’ve ridden it, even when I left them in a locker!). The ride had signs that talked about various Superman characters. Didio was reading the entry for Supergirl where it talked about her not being Clark’s cousin but instead some weird merge of alien shapeshifter, angel, and human girl, and he realized how fucking stupid that was, and he went back to the office and told Loeb to bring Kara back.
Years later I would also be standing in line at the Six Flags Superman ride (probably at a different park location but who knows?) as a youngster and would read the new Supergirl sign that trumpeted that Superman had a cousin who shared all his powers, an update reflecting the new Loeb origin. I thought she sounded pretty cool, made a note to see if my library had any Supergirl stories next time I visited, then got on the Superman ride and promptly lost my glasses like an idiot because I wanted to take them off while I was riding and pretend I was changing from my “disguise” into Superman mid flight. My dad grounded me for this afterwards, but it gave me a funny story to tell at family get togethers and isn’t that what Six Flags is all about?
A month later (and with spiffy new glasses), my mom dropped me off at a new library next to where she worked, and they had one of the best Superman collections I’ve ever seen to this day. I was in heaven and while reading every Superman book I could find (I couldn’t check them out because I didn’t have a card, my mom’s card didn’t cover the area the library was in, and my mom wouldn’t have checked them out anyway since comics were “too violent”), I found the trade collecting Kara’s new origin. I read it and I thought both she and Superman were really cool, and Batman was a punk who had to beat Darkseid by cheating, the loser. Turner’s art to my young eyes was the best I had ever seen, and the panels got engraved into my brain.
I still get downright nostalgic whenever I see Turner Superman or Supergirl stuff. I also got my parents to rent the animated movie adaption of the Superman/Batman arc from Blockbuster (remember those?), and that sealed the deal. Seeing Kara hold her own against Darkseid convinced me she was as cool as her cousin. Next time my mom dropped me off at the library next to her workplace, I went looking for Supergirl stuff to read. I found the first volume of her new volume by Joe Kelly taking place after the Loeb arc and dove in.
It was... weird. 5 years later I might have enjoyed it but at the time I was majorly put off. Kara took a secret identity for a day and then ditched it because it was “stupid” and the kids bullied her. She was always getting into fights with Kal, and there was this weird plot that I couldn’t follow about how her dad had sent her to kill Kal, maybe or maybe not? Also she could grow crystals which I thought was dumb, and said she was stronger than her cousin which I couldn’t buy for a second given he looked like he was carved out of marble, and she looked like she relied on sunlight instead of food. I put the volume back on the shelf and kinda gave up on reading the character after that for a while.
I followed her via the DC wiki updates just like I did Superman, and everything I read seemed dumb and convoluted. She was split in two, moped around a lot, made out with an alternate version of her cousin, and basically just flopped about the same way the rest of the Superfamily did during the 00s. Nothing made me think I had made a mistake dropping Kara until I read the latest update to her wiki page.
I was super into what I was reading about the Busiek/Johns era of Superman online. Lex was back and making a big revenge scheme that involved all the other Rogues! Old Superman Rogues were getting revamped and made cool again! Johns reintroduced Brainiac and made him a big threat, with Kal and Kara teaming up to fight him! Busiek was revamping Prankster and telling big ambitious Superman stories! For the first time in a long while, the consensus on the Internet was that Superman was good again. My “home” library had zero Marvel books and no Superman or Batman books, all their DC stuff was Flash or Green Lantern, mainly written by Johns. Insane to think back on now. My hopes that because Johns was involved with Superman, Superman books would show up at my library were fulfilled. They started bringing in Busiek and Johns collections, and someone there also ordered Sterling Gates’ first volume of Supergirl, and I checked everything out since I was old enough to have my own library card, and my parents were worried more about the violent video games I was playing rather than comics.
I read everything and loved it. I also really liked Gates’ take on Kara. She was still an imperfect teenager but she wasn’t insufferably angsty or constantly fighting with Kal. She was going to give the secret identity another try and Lana had “adopted” her. It’s funny remembering how I enjoyed all that given my current thoughts on how Kara should work, but it was great at the time. I liked Gates introducing new foes for Kara, some classic Superman Rogues adapted for her like Bizzarogirl, others crafted specifically for her like Reactron. Gates’ basically rekindled my enjoyment of Kara the same way Busiek & Johns rekindled my enjoyment of Superman.
Of course it ended terribly like everything Superman-related seems to.
I’ve got a whole post I want to do about New Krypton and what came after. In short that is the most blatant example of “hitting the reset button” that I’ve ever seen. All the potential got wasted, and afterwards everything except Lex’s Action Comics stuff just didn’t appeal to me. Gates got booted off Kara for Nick Spencer who ended up leaving himself later, a promising Teen Titans line-up with Kara on it didn’t happen, and the last proper Pre-Flashpoint Superfamily story was a crappy team-up with Doomsday against Bigger Doomsday (thank God for Cornell’s final Luthor/Superman confrontation at least). When news of the reboot arrived, I was honestly happy. The Superline needed an enema.
Controversial opinion time: I liked New 52 Supergirl. It’s weird because a lot of the stuff I hated about Kelly’s run was here, and a lot of the stuff I loved about the Gates’ run was not. This was angry, moody, emotional Kara again, fighting with Kal and not fond of Earth. But I was in my teens at this point, and I didn’t want happy go-lucky Superman or Supergirl. I wanted my heroes angry, scared of the future, ready to go out there and smash some cars. Morrison’s Action Comics was 100% my jam (still is once I really understood the deeper meaning beneath the work) and this Kara felt like a natural fit for this universe. Plus we got Asrar on art and that guy made it damn pretty to look at, lots of cool science fiction stuff going on, even with the dumb H’el storyline.
I loved all the new Rogues Kara got. I loved her new Fortress under the ocean. I loved how traumatized she was by the loss of Krypton, that she wanted more than anything to go home, that her cousin was like a stranger to her since they had been apart for so long. I found all of that incredibly relatable. A lot of the New 52 Supergirl stories might have been schlock but it was my type of schlock damnit, and I enjoyed it!
I kept with her New 52 series all the way through the Red Daughter Saga (which I loved). As someone who grew up on Johns GL (since that was the only comics my home library had), seeing a Supercharacter join a Lantern Corp was the hypest thing ever. I loved the finale about Kara finally letting go of her anger and losing the ring while smashing her foe into the sun, it was incredibly cathartic for me as an angry teen myself. I finally stopped following her series sometime after since I was no longer enjoying the Superline or really DC as a whole. It wasn’t until I heard that New 52 Superman died and the “old” Superman was back, that I checked back into DC.
DC Rebirth & How I Think Kara Should Work
I did not enjoy Supergirl Rebirth, and I think I’ll talk about my problems with it alongside how I think Kara as a character should work since the two are related. A pet peeve of mine that has formed over the years is this: I don’t like it when Superfamily members get turned into Clark clones. Kon wearing glasses and going to Smallville High. Kara going to high school and being involved in journalism. Jon more or less being written as a copy of his dad personality-wise. I hate that kind of stuff because it’s boring. What’s the point of a Superfamily if everyone is just copying Clark? It also doesn’t fit the characters especially in Kara’s case. Why the hell does she want to be a journalist? Were there journalists on Krypton? I don’t remember ever seeing one! Shouldn’t she want to be, I dunno, a scientist? That seems to have been the El family tradition, wouldn’t she have been groomed for that?
This one-off by Shea is honestly the only acceptable outcome for Kara going into journalism for me. She realizes she’s just copying her cousin and switches to something she wants to do. So Orlando copying the show, which already basically turned Kara into an expy of her cousin, just did not appeal to me at all. What had worked for me under Gates way back when was not clicking for me this time. I wanted to see Kara embody the principles of the S-shield in a different way than her cousin did. So I really enjoyed when Rebirth ended and we moved into the Bendis era with Andrekyo relaunching the title as Kara in space.
Kara in space has always felt like a good fit for me. Unlike Kal I’ve come to believe that Kara really shouldn’t be all that fond of Earth. For him it’s home, but for her it’s just where she ended up after her real home got destroyed. I think Kara works well as a sort of nomad, occasionally making stops back home to Earth to check on her cousin, but otherwise? She’s more comfortable out in space than she could ever be on Earth. Out in space she can be Kryptonian (which is what she should think of herself as in contrast to Clark being torn between his Kryptonian biology and human upbringing, and Jon/Kon identifying as human), be her true self, not have to pretend to be human to fit in. Kara founding a moon refuge was one of the best ideas for her that I’ve seen, I would love if DC made her Future State refugee center on the moon canon. I’m excited for more Kara adventures in space with the upcoming Tom King story.
Also love that her and Krypto are getting tied together, if they don’t want to use Krypto in Superman’s stuff, let her have him! Bring on cosmic adventurer Supergirl!
Personality & Other Traits
Kara to me should be more hot-tempered than her cousin. All the Superfamily members should have a temper in my opinion, I see that as the “Deadly Sin” of Superman and his family. But while Kal is like a simmering pot that will explode if it’s left cooking for too long, Kara is like dynamite. Light her fuse at your own peril because she will go off on you.
I also like the idea of Kara being rash. Kal’s got a maturity that came from over a decade of having to live with Lex Luthor constantly getting away with all his evil schemes. He’s patient because he’s been forced to be. Kara? If you ask for her help she’ll give it, but beware because she doesn’t really care about the long term impacts of her decisions. She’s an invulnerable teenager after all.
Really liked that Venditti Annual where Kara got tutored in history by a reincarnation of Hawkman. Kara having a passion for history is a neat trait, would be nice to see her teach Kal or Jon some Kryptonian lore, or have her lead a Kryptonian holiday celebration for the Superfamily because she’s the only one who remembers how to do it.
Sexuality wise I know a lot of people ship Kara and Lena on account of the chemistry between the two in the show. I haven’t watched the show myself but I’m fine with making Kara bisexual, the Superfamily could use some LGBT+ rep, and Lena hasn’t done anything of worth as a villain, so undo that and throw the two together. If we’re letting Harley and Ivy get away with murder I think we can let Lena off the hook too, undo the Ultrawoman weirdness and put the two together. Could be fun seeing the two building that moon refuge together.
All in all I think Kara is a great character who is a stronger embodiment of the immigrant experience than even her cousin in some ways. I hope King does a good job with her, she’s treated better than her cousin on the film side, and that overall the 20s are a better decade for Supergirl than the 10s were.
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Fire and Ice - Carol Denning x OC/Reader A/B/O Fic
SUMMARY: Sallie Novak, a 19 year old omega, gets sent to litchfield max for attempted murder, and has to survive in a prison that consists of mostly Betas and Alphas.
CHAPTER ONE
Sallie Novak never thought she would end up in prison, but with the unfortunate circumstances that have occurred over the past 2 years of her life, it honestly may be the better option than being at home.
Being an omega, she was told to do the right thing and never the wrong thing, her mother raised her that way. At first, it was okay. Her mother was a strong omega and taught Sallie to control her heats and not get swept up in relationships. She didn’t end up as a pregnant teen, so she didn’t do too bad.
Though when Sallie was 16, her mother met Dan, an ex-military alpha who is the biggest fucking cuntstick on the planet. He actually seemed incredibly nice at first, for the first year of knowing him, actually. He had money and took care of Sallie and her mother who didn’t have much since her father died when she was 12, and her mother worked as a manager at a grocery store.
After Dan and her mother got married, however, the dynamic shifted, Dan seemed to turn into a different person. He got lazy and grew a dependence for alcohol, and they quickly discovered that he got violent when he drank. He began to get very abusive towards Sallie’s mother, and it sent her into a highly depressive state. She lost her job and hardly left her bedroom most days.
Sallie was unsure why or how Dan’s attention got shifted to her instead of her mother, but it did. Sallie would come home from school and Dan would be drunk, and he would find ridiculous excuses to be pissed off at her; she didn’t do the dishes before she left, or she forgot to feed the dog, anything. On the good days, he would scream at her and she’d shut herself in her room and cry, on the bad days, she would be in her bedroom with belt marks, scrapes, and bruises all over her body.
He never took interest in her sexually, as far as she knew. She took suppressants and wore scent blockers so he could never smell her, but he did make occasional comments about her figure and slapped her ass a couple times, so, he wasn’t innocent in that regard either.
Eventually, she had enough of the abuse, she couldn't take it anymore, so one day, when she was bringing him coffee (Which he made her do, every morning), she slipped rat poison in it. But the motherfucker caught on, he could taste it in his fucking coffee, and he wasted no time calling the police.
That’s when she knew she was fucked.
So Sallie ended up in prison. Granted, the time for her was shorter than most, but as an omega, she knew there wouldn’t be many like her. And there weren’t. Omegas didn’t commit crimes and go to jail like alphas do. They stayed pretty and did little offenses that very rarely got them in trouble. Omegas were pure little creatures, even though a lot of them had a nasty sex life, they always kept things clean on the outside and blamed others for their faults like the prissy little bitches they were. Well, Sallie never did that. She took the blame, and though she tried and tried to report Dan’s abusive behaviour, her mother, always denied it, and it was the word of an attempted murderer against that of a woman with a clean record and a veteran.
So here she was, litchfield fucking Max. Walking in with cuffs on her hands, glaring back at everyone who looked at her. The prison provided scent blockers for omegas, and hormone suppressants, but that didn’t make Sallie any less nervous, the suppressants weren’t the same ones Sallie was used to taking, and the blockers weren’t very strong.
They stopped at a gate, and next to it was a large “C” on the wall. “Welcome to C-Block” the guard said as the gate opened and they walked in.
Even with the blockers, she noticed some alphas got a whiff of her smell as she walked by, causing some to lick their lips as if they were a treat, palm at themselves with obvious sexual frustration, while others bit down on their bottom lip to seem less obvious of their intentions when gazing at her body. She shouldn’t be here. She should be somewhere else with more protection, yet here she was… She didn’t realize she'd be mixed in with alphas, even if there wasn’t that many. Sallie didn’t have a plan for what she was going to do while she was here. She didn’t have a plan on staying safe and keeping herself up in the long run. She had nothing.
She was so fucked.
Practically shoved into her little cell, Sallie found herself back towards the guard who had pushed her in. “So, inmate,” the guard spoke. Helman, was it? “Most of the time Omegas are put into Florida, but since we're short on space there, you'll have to stay here until we find an alternative. There aren’t many alphas here, but there are a couple. That means no making yourself vulnerable; cover your scent as much as you can, or you will be fucked over if one of us isn't here. We can’t be by your side every hour of the day, and the male guards won’t be the most reliable if you accidentally seduce them with your scent.”
Sallie wanted to scoff at the male’s words, staring at him. Her expression clearly showed she was nervous. “My cellmate isn’t an alpha, right?” She asked.
“Obviously not, your cellmate is a beta, one of our most docile inmates. Don't expect any more special treatment just because you're an omega though. You got yourself in this mess, and now there’s no way out. You should have been a good little whore and stayed put instead of going out and doing bad things.”
The guard’s words tore right through Sallie, making her go pale for a moment. The look in his eyes showed that he wasn’t messing around and that he was looking for what many of the inmates were looking for: A hole to fuck.
This was her life now.
“This was the end of your special treatment, Novak. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner will not be taken to you. Dinner is in ten, tomorrow you have orientation after breakfast. Don't be late for it. We have eyes on you, so you have little to worry about,” the guard was smirking. “I would get a head start on getting to dinner.The good trays always get taken by the alphas.”
Sallie breathed shakily, nodding her head slowly.
Keep your head up, Novak. They won't hurt you.
——
“Ooh, look at this new cookie, you don’t look half bad,” a voice jeered at Sallie when she went to get in line for her dinner tray. She couldn’t resist glaring over, seeing a slightly overweight girl with badly bleached hair laughing at her. She was with a group who already had their dinner trays, sitting at a table. Sallie gave the girl a dirty look, but then she noticed a movement behind her.
It was just a tiny movement, a cocking of the head. And yet for a second when Sallie saw her, she forgot how to breath. The woman was staring right at her, eyes narrowed how a predator would watch its prey. Sallie immediately knew this woman was an alpha, not even having to smell her. Sallie’s brain told her to look away but she simply couldn’t. She didn’t know if it was her omega needing this or just deep curiosity, but she kept her gaze, taking in large 80’s glasses and the end of a lollipop that stuck out of her mouth. But then she blinked, and Sallie felt her face flush and the world came rushing back. She quickly looked away and bore her gaze at the food cart, making sure not to look back at the woman.
When she got her food and sat at an empty table, 2 inmates quickly came up and sat on each side of her, their smell flooding her senses; alphas.
“So… what's your name, pretty little omega? Why did you end up in this sickening place? You must have fucked up, bad.”
“Shut the hell up,” Sallie spat.
“Feisty. I like that.” A second prisoner spoke up, grinning towards her. Her hand began to rub Sallie’s thigh, causing her to flinch. “Oh, they were right about omegas… You are sensitive, huh, pretty girl?”
“Leave me the fuck alone…” She growled, nudging her off her thigh. “I don't fuck around like that. Just because I'm an omega doesn't mean I'm not strong.”
“But I think it does… You see, if all of us were to pin you against this table right now, there would be no escape. I think the guards would even join in on the fun! Either that or we would get thrown in the SHU, but none of us give a shit about that. All we care about is that we might be getting a wet hole to fuck…”
“Hey, knock it off.” A woman’s voice rang through, and the two immediately scattered, there was an instant heaviness in the air. The fear the voice instilled in the other alphas made Sallie nervous as fuck. She looked over and realized it was the voice of the woman she saw earlier. She was no longer looking at Sallie, she was now speaking to the girl with the awful hair.
“Oi Gapman, go sit with that cookie. And nobody fuck with her, got it?” A heavy Bronx accent rang out from that girl, she sounded almost annoyed to say what she did.
A few moments later a thin woman with greasy blonde hair came up to Sallie and sat with her. She was an Omega, Sallie could tell simply by her demeanour, and the alpha bite mark on her neck. Knowing she wasn’t the only omega here made her feel a little bit more safe.“Sorry about these guys, they’re awful here to omegas, but in my experience Carol doesn’t tolerate a bunch of horny alphas like Barb does over in D-Block, so you should be fine. Oh, I’m Chapman, uh, Piper.” She said and stuck her hand out.
Sallie shook her hand with a blank expression. “Carol?” She asked
“She runs the gang here in C-Block. Everything goes through her. I haven't been here long, but I’ve seen her gang do some shit, I wouldn’t mess with her. Oh and her fucking right hand is a bitch, Badison’s her name, the one who yelled at me to come over here in the first place.”
“Badison?” Sallie chuckled. “What kind of name is that?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but she’s my cellmate, and it’s torture. Don’t get on her bad side like I did. She’s just a beta, and honestly I think her attitude is to try to overcompensate for her genetics.”
Sallie just nodded and got lost in thought for a moment. She really didn’t care about this ‘Badison’ character. She did care about Carol though… The quick scurrying off from the other alphas made more sense now, they’re all scared of her. Sallie wonders how long she’s been in here for, and what she’s done.
——
About 15 minutes later, Sallie returned to her cell to try and get some rest. Upon entering she saw a short, blue haired girl sitting on the top bunk reading a book.
“Uh, hey, you must be my cellmate. I didn’t see you when I first got assigned. I’m Sallie Novak.”
The girl looked up from her book and grinned, hopping down from her bunk. “Great! They’re finally giving me a cellmate! I’m Jacs Walker, sorry I didn’t see you in admission, I’ve been in medical, caught a shiv in the ribs a couple days ago from a dickhead alpha over in D-Block.”
“Damn, sorry, that had to suck.” Sallie replied, kind of dumbfounded how positive this girl's energy was for just being shivved.
“It’s all good, shit happens, I shouldn’t have been trying to score from them. Anyways, you can have the bottom bunk, and those hooks there.” She pointed at the wall, “I know you’re an omega, but don't worry, I’m not into girls.”
Sallie nodded, not really sure how to respond, and she sat in her bunk. “If you don’t mind, I’m exhausted, I need some rest.”
“Of course, intake day is the worst! I’d know, I’ve been sent here 3 different times. Get some sleep.”
It wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep with thoughts of large glasses and bright blue eyes…
#carol denning#carol denning x reader#present day carol denning#x reader#fanfic#oitnb#oitnb season 6#oitnb fanfic#lesbian#abo#abo au#alpha/beta/omega dynamics
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i have decided to start posting anything im not gonna finish for ao3 here, in case anyone doesn’t mind reading something small and unfinished
this one is called: the one where andrew meets neil at a party and is definitely not interested
*
Andrew regrets everything about the party the second he walks into it. He regrets the deafening chaos of the people dotted around the room whose mothers gave birth to them; the smell of the dorm, like carpet-crushed-cheetoes and unmixed malibu; the clock on the wall which says they arrived way too early for his patience. He smiles a little, salutes Kevin and says, “No.”
Kevin, the tall asshole that he is, shoves his way between Andrew and the door, frowning, and says, “No? We just got here.”
Andrew crosses his arms and stares at the wall. He waits. If Kevin wants to watch him stare at a wall all night that is up to him. Something itches under Andrew’s skin, something like violence, and he closes his eyes, and waits. A phone is pressed to his cheek, which he takes intuitively. Nicky says,
“Andrew, you promised.”
Andrew’s eyes flicked open. His eyes drop to the skirting board, flakey and a little away from the wall. “No I didn’t.”
“You did,” says Nicky, half-confident, half-sad, very thousands of miles away. “Last Sunday.”
Andrew flicks through last Sunday, finds their conversation, considers all the parts. He clicks his tongue, irritated. “That was not a promise.”
“Ok fine, but you said you’d try.”
Andrew eyes Kevin who is still staring down at him, arms still folded, body still blocking the door. Andrew says, “This is me, trying. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Kevin says you’re leaving.”
“Staying at this party won’t prove anything.”
“Oh go on,” Nicky says, using his cheerful mom voice, “it might be fun!” And then, “Ok it’ll probably be super lame but I dunno you might – witness a shooting or something.”
Andrew blinks away from Kevin. “A shooting.”
“Maybe an argument will break out. Or an epic red wine disaster.” Andrew feels bored, feels his eyes growing hazy, the way he hates, the way he can’t concentrate on anything sometimes. Nicky says, “Just – just stick with Kevin. For me. I’m so – far away.”
Andrew closes his eyes, feels his eyebrows furrow, hands the phone back to Kevin. Hears Kevin say, “Yeah. Ok. Sure Nicky.” And then nothing.
Andrew looks up at the man who calls himself Andrew’s friend and says, “You will pay for this.”
“In what?” Kevin says, tucking his phone away in his pocket. Confident. Asshole.
Andrew turns away. “Find me something drinkable.”
Kevin finds it: a 10 year old Glenmorangie, hidden on top of the cupboard, reachable only by a 6”2 athlete on top of a chair. Andrew makes himself comfy against a wall in the living room, crosses his legs at the ankles, and drinks expensive whisky.
It’s not that he hates people. He does not really hate anything. Being bored, maybe. He watches people, the window – something dark and grey and sticky against the sky – the paint drying. He thinks the paint probably dried a long time ago, now he’s just watching it existing.
He thinks about what it would be like to be one of these people. Who go to parties. And stand, or wander, finding someone interesting to talk to, or to paw at. Exceptionally ordinary, dull, shallow, brain the size of peas. Wonders what it would be like.
Watches dried paint, static.
---
“Dolphins surf.”
“That’s so cool.”
“I know, I know. I mean, like, do you think they do it for fun?”
“Maybe they’re trying to go somewhere.”
A conversation has sprung up around Andrew, unwarranted. He was just standing here, minding his own business, and now he has to mind his tongue too.
The guy says, “Blue Planet is awesome.”
He’s looking at Andrew, kindly, as if to include him, so Andrew clenches his jaw and says, “Incredible.”
When he says nothing else the guy looks away and him and the girl keep chatting about whether or not they think dolphins have a secret agenda until they get distracted and Andrew gets his wall back.
His whiskey is empty.
He sighs, feeling put upon, feeling his back pocket for his cigarette pack, and pushes away from his wall.
---
The kitchen is busy. He doesn’t like people.
It’s not that he hates people.
He doesn’t hate anything.
He just doesn’t care for any of it.
It’s like the difference between setting something on fire and just watching it burn.
He looks for the whisky, and finds it – fucking Kevin. It’s back on top of the cupboard, and Andrew stares at it forlornly while going through possible plans in his head. If Kevin needed a chair to get it, Andrew will need two. He doesn’t think that would work. He considers climbing on top of the burly brunette chatting in a corner, but that would require touch, and an awkward conversation. Though – he looks back at burly brunette, long enough that the guy catches his eye, gives him a look, clocks onto something and winks.
Andrew turns away, tucking that aside as plan B.
He finds Kevin in the living room, stuffed in a corner with two girls.
Eurgh.
“Kevin.”
Kevin looks up, and waves his hand dismissively.
“I just don’t think a trade is the right move for them,” says Girl 1. “Not now, not when everything is so fragile.”
Kevin scoffs. “Fragile. Amy Williamson is an incredible coach, she had five years with the Eagles –”
“Yes, I know,” says Girl 1.
“She knows,” agrees Girl 2, giving Andrew a look Andrew doesn’t care about. So they’re both friends with geeks, that doesn’t give her a free bonding pass.
Kevin scoffs again, so Andrew says, “Kevin.”
Kevin misreads, gestures at the two girls and says, “This is Andrew. Andrew – Dan and Renee.”
Dan gives Andrew an assessing look and Renee smiles.
Andrew says, “Great. I need a top up.”
Kevin gets to his feet and tries to take the glass out of Andrew’s hand. Andrew holds onto it and says, “Bring the bottle this time.”
Once Kevin is out of sight, Dan says, “So, Andrew, do you play exy as well?”
Andrew says nothing. He doesn’t take Kevin’s seat, and standing puts him above the two heads nicely. He looks away.
Renee says, “Are you friends with Kevin?”
Andrew says, “Define friends.”
He gives Renee a sparing glance, and she smiles again, and says, “Willing to put up with exy in exchange for whisky service?”
Andrew shrugs, and Renee laughs. Small, and earned, and Andrew flicks his eyes away again.
Standing on the other side of the room, leaning against his wall – tucked into a corner and bathed in shadow and looking into a red cup – is some guy.
Andrew narrows his eyes at the challenge.
Dan is saying, “– go to school here?”
And then Kevin appears with the bottle and Andrew snatches it out of his hands and stalks off.
---
This guy is no less as boring as the rest for leaning against Andrew’s wall; no less boring for the way his fingers curl around the cup, tight and possessive; for the way his rough auburn hair sticks out all over the place only a few inches above Andrew’s own.
Andrew leans one shoulder against the wall, hip out, and stares him down.
The guy looks up, slowly, still frowning, like he was trying to figure out something.
“The mystery of the universe?” Andrew asks.
Guy cocks his head, just a centimetre. Barely noticeable. “What?”
“In your cup.” Andrew nods at it.
Guy looks back into his cup. “I think it’s spiked.”
Andrew freezes, then straightens and snatches the cup out of the guy’s hand, pours it straight onto the floor.
It spools into a little puddle, most of the fizzy orange liquid soaking into carpet, a few droplets here and there that haven’t made their way in yet.
Andrew and guy watch it.
Guy says, “With alcohol.”
Andrew looks up at him, breath still in his body, but barely, and says, “What?”
A small smirk hooks the edge of the guy’s mouth. “The drink. I meant, I think it was spiked with alcohol.”
Andrew blinks at him, and looks away, and presses the toes of his foot into the wet carpet. He says, “Huh.”
And hears a low chuckle. “Yeah. Well. Solved the problem either way, so thanks.”
If Andrew could feel anything, he thinks he would feel sad at the loss, so he says, “What a waste.”
The guy says, “If it was my asshole friends, it was probably something cheap and shit.”
“Good riddance then.”
When Andrew’s eyes finally make their way back up to guy’s face, it’s to that smirk again. He looks at it for a second too long, and then the guy says, “Anyway. Go away.”
Andrew’s eyes flick up from his mouth to his gaze and says, “I got here first.”
Guy waves a hand around himself. “You didn’t. You literally didn’t.”
Andrew purses his lips. “This evening,” he bites out. Awkward for some reason. “This wall is mine. I came to tell you to fuck off.”
The guy looks at his empty hand, flexes it for want of something to grip, Andrew supposes, and says, “You didn’t make it very far.”
Andrew takes one last look at him, turns the angle of his body, and relaxes his upper back against the wall, whisky bottle in one hand, and doesn’t look at the guy again for 12 minutes.
They watch the party. Or at least Andrew does.
There are thirty people stuffed into this room, the wide common area that acts as a living room, with sofas and beanbags and a table full of bottles. Andrew knows there’s a kitchen. Probably half a dozen bedrooms. Calculates there could be a hundred people at this party.
Some low-fi beat-pop he tunes out. He’d rather listen to nothing than something someone else has chosen.
He thinks about his heart beat, and the way it speeds up sometimes when he drinks too much. Not that he drinks too much very often. He knows his limits, he sticks to them. Swigs the bottle up to his cup, then his mouth, feeling the burn all the way down his throat.
The guy says, “That stuff smells disgusting.” Andrew wipes his mouth with his sleeves and drags his eyes lazily to the side. The guy shrugs. “No offence.”
“No offence,” Andrew mutters, lifting the bottle. “10 years.”
The guy looks amused. “Is that supposed to be impressive? I’ve been alive 20.”
“Congratulations.” Andrew shuffles his feet, straightens. It puts him at the same height as his slouching companion. “Do you have a name?”
The guy looks away. Smirks. “Alex.”
Andrew narrows his eyes, at the way his grey walmart tshirt doesn’t really fit, like there’s some space between his stomach and the shirt, the way it hangs past his hips, and says, “The truth?”
The guy looks back at him, face expressionless but eyes searching, and says, “Sure.” Andrew doesn’t break his gaze, and then he asks, “What’s yours?”
Andrew waits a beat, then deadpans, “Batman.”
Alex laughs.
His amusement is small, mouth closed and eyes alight, like he wasn’t expecting it, and Andrew has to look away.
“Ok Batman,” Alex says. “You can share my wall.”
Andrew presses a little more firmly against it. “Wasn’t asking.”
“You’re welcome.”
They stand, side by side, a solid gap between them, for another few minutes, and at one point Andrew just closes his eyes, and breathes.
A large figure approaches, first his shadow, then his laughter, then Andrew opens his eyes to a grin and spiked hair. “Chris! Where did you go?”
Andrew looks at his companion, who just frowns.
“Alex,” Alex insists.
“Ok ok,” says large guy, smiling and looking distracted. “Wanna come play mario kart?”
“No.”
“Who’s your friend?”
There’s an awkwardness before Andrew realises he’s being looked at, so he meets the guy’s inquisitive look head on, face blank and giving off as many unimpressed vibes as possible.
The guy looks away.
Andrew allows himself a small smile.
“Batman,” says Alex, “meet Matt. Matt, this is Batman.”
Matt frowns at him, then at Andrew, and Andrew links his hands and flaps his fingers like a bat.
Alex laughs.
Matt looks between them, then hides something in his expression. Andrew drops his hands, embarrassed by the stupidity, the triviality of making such a joke in front of two strangers he couldn’t care less about, then says, “Take him back, if you’ll have him.” He grips his fingers firmer around his bottle, turns on his heel, and leaves.
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Whitmore Guy comes clean
Whitmore Guy masterlist
word count: 4158
music: why are you here by mgk, halfway dead by steve aoki, global dan and travis barker
“I’m here”, he said after a pause. By this time she was already sat in her bed, in a defensive position, with her knees firmly in the mattress.
“Mal!”
He didn’t let her finish.
“Would you have preferred me to stay invisible, would that make you feel more comfortable?” he asked reasonably, reading her mind. “You know I’ve been here. Because I told you”.
“Bonnie did”, she yelled, “Bonnie did! What are you, Mal?”
Mal stepped out of the darkness without making noise, and it hit her finally. Finally. He’s not human. There’s no way in hell he’s mortal! The way he moves, the way he never looks tired, although he claims to barely ever sleep, the way he just manifests himself at places; she thought of the first time they met, back in the gatherings hall, and how he smelt sweet like chewing candy. And how she thought he might be a trickster. That would suit him well. The eyes were pitch black in the twilight of the room. Y/N didn’t move.
“That’s a bit harsh”, he said coldly. “What am I, really? You think I’m some kind of monster?”
He chuckled and gave his light attitude away.
“How did you get inside my house? You never broke the lock”, she said quietly.
“I picked it. It’s easy. Do you want me to show you?”
She got out of bed puffing. She wasn’t afraid of him, but he creeped her out. If that makes sense? She felt like she could take him out, no matter what, and not because she could arguably throw a punch. But because she had certain power over him. Mal has always been nice to her, not in a friendly way, but in a ‘you’re special’ way. As opposed to everybody else. With other people, he was superficial, secretly arrogant and dismissive, but he treated her differently which, unfortunately for him, gave her the advantage. That’s what she thought.
Mal smiled slowly as she approached him, circling the bed. He bit his lower lip, pretending to check her out.
“You never answer any of my questions. You never tell me the truth”.
“I never lie to you, either. You just gotta ask the right questions”.
Mal lifted his hand and looked at the invisible watch on his wrist.
“We have to go. Can you get dressed really quickly?”
She narrowed her eyes. Obviously, something’s up if he showed up in her house. And didn’t ‘stay invisible’. Clearly, she needs to call Damon ASAP and check on them. Her paranoia told her to. Yet, she was standing there, in comfortable darkness, allowing him to listen to her heartbeat, two steps away from him, and her head was filled with the memories of them making out on the couch after the dinner party. Between the dinner party and finding the bodies in the house next door. She wanted to kiss him again, wanted so very badly, but thankfully, she was a thinking creature. Hot take: the desires of the body are not stronger than the council of the brain. Mal wanted that, too. His face was lean, wolf-like in the shadows, and he watched her carefully, badly hidden threat behind his smile. His smile was always only lips-deep, like a sticker he put over his face, like a mask. Every time Y/N touched him, it fell, and she took in his deep, dark color, and she couldn’t get enough of it.
“You think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re severely mistaken”, she said.
“I thought you wanted to know the truth”, Mal said innocently, and tilted his head.
“Truth about what? There’s too many things messed up to know clearly what you mean”.
“What if I tell you they’re all connected? Your gape in the head, and Damon going on a killing spree, and…” he paused, puzzled, “uh… that…” he closed his eyes, ruining the mysterious allure. He was trying to recall a name again. “That dude… Ma… Mutt?”
“Mal, fucking hell”, she threw her hands up, “Matt, his name was Matt, and he was one of my best friends”.
Mal nodded, seeing that she wasn’t joking anymore. Y/N stepped away and went to the window to open the curtains and let some more light into the room.
“Why don’t you jump out of your pj’s and put something on, so that we can go? It won’t be too nice in the town for the next ten hours or so”.
She turned abruptly.
“What do you mean?”
Mal shrugged again.
“I will honestly strike you on the head if you don’t stop talking in riddles”.
Mal licked his lips, and she finally saw, as the street light fell on him, that his jaws were pressed together. His eyes were dark because he was pissed, even though he smiled, even though his voice was close to normal, the usual. There was a time bomb inside his head, and she could all but hear the ticking behind his eyes.
“Listen, I don’t have time to chat you up, okay?” he said, and it sounded like he was a stranger. Y/N’s instincts kicked in, and she grouped standing at the window, like a small animal. As Mal moved towards her, her brain made a crazy attempt to convince her crawling out of the window will be a good idea.
When he grabbed Y/N by the shoulder, she could feel the zip again, that happened occasionally. He always wore synthetic shirts, and she got quite used to it. She never even brought it up, and now suddenly, it was clear as day that she should have. There were no accidents with Mal. This weird itchy feeling when he touched her, meant something and he knew about it, too. She was startled for a second, then she tried to kick out, but his fingers wrapped around her forearm decisively.
“I gave you a chance to change, now you gotta ride all the way to Georgia in your sleeping shirt”.
She didn’t know how he managed to drag her down the stairs, but when she blinked, they were already standing at the driveway. Mal walked towards her car taking her keys out of his pocket.
“Get in, we’re going”.
“What have I gotten into”, she mumbled, approaching the car and opening the door slowly. “You’re too strong for a normal dude, you know that?”
Mal smiled shortly as if she complimented him.
“I’m not a normal dude though, am I?”
He started the car quickly and drove out into the street. Mal usually refused to get behind the wheel if Y/N was willing to drive. He even whined a little about having to drive when she got too drunk to do it. Now, he looked as if he’s been the most experienced driver. The wheel was calm and obedient under his hand, and it felt like betrayal, too. Like she didn’t know him at all. Y/N looked at him, the side of his face, the upturned nose and focused eyes, and thought that it wouldn’t surprise her if his whole personality was a lie, too.
“What’s happening with the town? Are the guys alright?”
“How am I supposed to know?” he frowned childishly, his eyebrows gathering together. “I just don’t want you to be there when it comes down, obviously. The FBI guys have returned, apparently, and they’re determined that Damon has killed everybody… which I fully support”.
“You know damn well he hasn’t killed anybody”, Y/N bumped her fist into his shoulder and he didn’t budge.
“How do you know? You’re so brainwashed by him”, Mal threw.
“That’s far from truth”, she muttered, checking the pockets of her pants. As he was dragging her out of the room, she was still holding her phone in her hand. Millennials, am I right?
“Where’s the damn phone”, she said to herself, frustrated. Mal drove out into the main street and sped up, clearly wanting to get out of the town soon. She put both her hands into her pockets and checked the seat.
“Where’s my phone, Mal?”
“I have it”, he tapped himself on the chest pocket of his jean jacket. Y/N blinked with one eye; it was more like a twitch.
“Give it back”.
She realized he had slipped his hand into her pants while they were walking down the stairs.
“To do what?”
“Give it back, you tricky bastard”, she leaned over and grabbed him by the hand free of the wheel.
“Whoa! Calm down, psycho”, Mal grinned and pushed her back gently. “What do you need it for? It’s the middle of the night, everybody’s asleep”.
“I need to call Elena to make sure she’s alright! Do they even know the FBI… whatever they are, are in town?”
“Of course. I learnt it from them”, Mal said shortly. They were now straight on the highway leading out of Mystic Falls. The town is that small. A couple of streets, weaving inside like spider guts, a park, a square, and that’s it. A little place to live, really. It closes your mind, clogs your imagination. One can easily go crazy here.
“I was at the Craze, then the blonde slow vamp, Carrie, runs in, and her eyes are like, this big, and she says the tol and the smol are back. And I’m like, so what? And she’s like, they’re onto Dean! And I’m like, good for them, you know? Carrie is all flustered. But he’s our friend, and he didn’t kill anybody… while he totally did”, Mal shrugged. Y/N closed her eyes, irritated at his intentional name mess. He has established his dominance enough times already. There’s no need to purposefully diminish them every time, to remind her he doesn’t feel too psyched about the gang.
“And I was all, hm, there might be confrontation, so how about I take you away, yeah? It’s their own problems, let them deal with the feds themselves”, his face lit up a little, “they’re big vampires now after all”.
“I’m involved in that as well”, Y/N hissed, “you know? One of the vampires, before they all died at Craze, refused to bite me, which is a nonsense for a young vampire”.
“Oh”, he frowned a little, “then it’s all the better to take a break, right?”
She hit the back of the seat hard, looking at the dark ribbon of the road lying ahead. Her bare feet were rubbing against each other. Mal started fidgeting with the audio system and actually had the audacity to take out her phone from his pocket to connect it to the player.
“Unblock it”, he said, and it sounded more like an order. She rolled her eyes and, as he handed the phone to her, tried to grab it away from the guy. His fingers were worse than ironlike clutch of death.
“Hey, don’t be funny. Listen, I don’t mean anything to happen to you, okay? I’m just taking precautions”.
There was the familiar rectangular dark shape which was the sign with the name of the town. As the music hit the car, Mal stretched his neck a little, tilting his head from side to side, and she felt a strong desire to make him open up. She just wanted him to trust her enough to tell all. To not play anymore. It’s not that she’ll run, because there’s something wrong with him. She just needs to know to own him completely. Maybe it was crazy, too early for commitment like that, but her flaring nostrils told her she’s cooked enough.
There were cars on both sides of the road, but she couldn’t make them out properly as her own car sped past them. She turned her head back and caught the glimpse of people starting to gather on the road behind them, as if they had been expecting her car to pass, to close the way. One car moved forward and stopped right in the middle, blocking the way out of Mystic Falls.
She looked at Mal, wishing to hell he glances back, and she got severely disappointed, because when he did, there wasn’t a shred of sympathy for her distress. Her gut feeling got much worse though. It looked like a trick now, less like him acting on impulse. Mal understood it, seemingly. He shrugged off his playfulness and was completely serious now.
“I lied to you once”, he said.
I’m not myself
I’m not myself when you’re around, no
Can’t be helped,
the song chanted. He spoke calmly, his head swaying a little as if his neck was a light balloon string.
“I did steal your chain. I wanted to have a part of you with me at all times. Take it”, he lifted his elbow and opened his chest pocket. “Don’t fucking touch your phone”.
Y/N felt her whole body tense, the freeze so deep her skull got stung for a second, like she all turned into a stone.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll break your arm”, he said.
She kept looking at his absent stare he was radiating onto the road. It’s like he wasn’t watching where he was driving at all, like he was inside somewhere. That’s a powerful stunt, demanding something from a person without even looking at them. She put out her hand out of curiosity and slid her fingers into his pocket. It was warm on the inside, the heat was coming from his body. Very normal human heat. Something stopped her, either the fear of pain, or the fear that this pain will be inflicted by Mal. Her fingers brushed over the lukewarm smooth screen of her phone, and she felt the pricky chain of her necklace. She pulled it out, and looked at it, mesmerized. Mal finally glanced at her.
“Was Martha Hopps ever your girlfriend?” she asked.
“No”, she shook his head, “I wouldn’t do you like that”.
Y/N looked back again and clutched her necklace in her fist. Her other hand crawled to the handle of the door. Mal was speeding no less than fifty miles on the highway. She pulled the handle and pushed the door with her shoulder, grouping and closing her eyes. The song was filling the interior of her car. It was called ‘halfway dead to me’ and now she thought, right before throwing herself on the road and potentially killing herself, that even the music they listened to together should have communicated some message she’s missed.
It happened very quickly, as the door flew open, and the wind brushed over her violently; the sound of the highway being eaten by the wheels of the car. The dark sky, a starless back dome above; she was almost out, in the air, when his hand grabbed her by her neck and pulled back into the car so hard she collided with Mal and hit her thigh. The door of the car closed by itself with a bash and the music blasted her head like a baseball bat. Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her jaws together to withstand the pain. When it let go, she moved herself in the seat and shook her head.
“You could’ve killed yourself!” he yelled, sincerely frustrated. The car swayed as he returned both hands to the wheel. She has never seen him scared before, and it baffled her. Mal gave her a wide-eyed stare. “What is happening inside your goofy head?!”
“You’re not human!” she cried in return.
“Duh!”
She punched his shoulder once again to see that he doesn’t mind the mild pain. He barely noticed.
“You’re a vampire”.
Mal sniffed with displeasure.
“You only pulled this to test me? What if I hadn’t caught you?!”
“But that’s… that doesn’t make any sense. You walk in the sun and you eat all the time, and… others didn’t smell you”, she was still panting from the jump. Her neck ached from the stiff clutch he performed on her. In fact, Mal grabbed her so hard it felt like he was about to tear her head off completely. She rubbed her throat and the back of her neck with both hands.
“And you entered my house, without an invitation”, she finished. Mal sighed, turning the music down a little. She was still very aware of the songs that were playing. They always listened to this one playlist, which she had no memories of compiling. The title, the combination of the songs, the cover was inexplicable to her. These six months were so frustrating even this screaming oddness felt more like it was meant to be. Now she realized it was the only playlist she ever heard Mal play. And the fact that it was titled ‘douche’…
“That’s because I’ve already been there before”, he said, nonchalantly. He didn’t need to say it, she already knew.
“Malivore is in Georgia, huh”, she said. Diving deep into the seat, she looked on the path they were traveling again. Finally realizing is so liberating it’s hard to describe. For a moment, it felt like the car was completely silent.
The whole attraction thing, Mal knowing ways to get to her, the music, the movies, the manners… the mutual trust which is virtually impossible among people like him… the nights and days she felt lost, when she felt like there was a piece of her brain missing and the gaping hole whistling in the wind. The pink sky reminding her of something it couldn’t utter in human language, and the sucking, sad, tragic tunnel pulsating in her guts – all this meant she was broken over losing somebody at the shore of the sea of oblivion.
“You know how you had that strange feeling you missed somebody? And thought it was Matt?” he said with disgust. Y/N had no energy to say anything, crashed down by the powerful feeling of loss once again, all coming down at once, like she was pulled away right from her skeleton. She was looking at this stranger sitting next to her, trying to fit him into the frame of the new found truth, and he didn’t match. And that was the part of it.
She finally knew who she’s been crying about those weeks, when she would collapse on the floor of her room suddenly, startled by the outburst, confused by even why the tears are coming. The long nights she spent agonizing, - and she’d never told anyone, not even Elena – over something, crouched under the cover, seized by terror, like something was impaling her – now she knew why. Her chest got hard and narrow, and she put the hand to her throat.
“You’re the guy he threw into the Malivore”, she finally said. Mal nodded. The world was tearing apart; she could see the tear line up above, so clearly. It was fucking crumbling down in pieces. Only Damon – only that bastard could ever think of that. Of throwing someone into oblivion to erase them completely.
She might have whimpered, because Mal slowed the car down, concern on his face, and they stopped in the middle of the road. The night highway was empty and hollow, and when she left the car, almost crawling out, she noticed there were stars after all. Just very far away. Unreachable.
She felt the light movement of air on her cheek that was burning up, like the rest of her body. The road was long, leading away into the dark patch of space where the street lightning failed and gave in. The fields were quiet around them, night fog falling slowly to wrap them in its deadly embrace. The wind cried, get inside! Be safe! But the blue twilight of the forest in the distance felt like a mount of doom approaching. You couldn’t hide from it in the car. She couldn’t figure out now why she was crying. She felt so robbed; she felt like somebody had the audacity to come and tear her heart out, and now, the worst thing, she couldn’t feel anything because it was the heart she lacked. She couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to Mal. A cautious look thrown at him found him on the other side of the hood, watching her carefully. It was as if he was afraid to approach. Maybe he thought she was too delicate, or was actually afraid.
“How…” she tried her voice, and it let her down. Only whisper came out. “How did you get out?”
Mal circled the car slowly, without hurry. There were no more sounds, just the music from the car, and his steps. Mal touched her shoulders and made her focus on him, shooting right into her eyes. He was being very dramatic.
“I crawled back to you. Wouldn’t even be the first time. Remember how I got out of hell?”
In a second only she realized that there’s a smirk crooking his dirty mouth. He enjoyed his little joke.
“Oh, of course you don’t. Sorry”.
Her hands grabbed on Mal’s elbows and she pressed herself into his chest. It’s fucked up how memories are nothing. How not having the essential information makes you lose your head as you try to understand why you trust a person you don’t know so much; why you intuitively know he’ll do no harm to you; how you’re attracted to him. His smell was familiar now, almost vital. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and felt a heavy sigh that left his body. Mal hugged her back, putting his chin on the top of her head.
“Don’t worry. I’ll show you. I’ll show you everything, I know how. I have so much to tell you… honey”.
All those days, and she cried in vain. And now she knew what she cried for. And that is so unfair her throat is about to burst with rage. Only Damon…
“I’m going to kill him”, she said gravely, all of a sudden. She could hear his heart now, too. Beating like there’s no special vampire force in it. Mal sighed again.
“It was their collective decision”.
She stepped back to look him in the face.
“What?”
“They were all on it”, he repeated. It was hard to hide the joy in his voice, like he was bringing good news. She knew now how to filter it. She knew he can’t control it.
“Even Elena?”
He rolled his eyes a little.
“Even Elena”.
Mal pulled her on the elbow gently as she started crying again.
“I’ll fix everything, I promise. Hey, they’re paying for it right now”.
With a shaking hand, she clutched his, and squeezed it.
“Mal, please… please, don’t…”
His face went hard.
“I don’t get it. Do you want to punish them or not?”
She moaned. She was holding on to his hand because the knees almost gave in. She could literally feel sanity leaving her, from the little hole in her temple. She was going mad.
“Mal…”
“It’s Kai by the way”, he added, harshly. “Kai Parker. Look at me. You know, this is what I never really understood. You’re so clearly upset, and it makes me very happy… I mean, like, not in a way that I like to see you hurt, but… well, you get it. But you still want to protect them? You were never able to make the choice, you know?”
Seeing that she is not able to object, he went on.
“Quite honestly, that’s hurtful. You know, after everything I’ve been through… you know, you have been the only person ever that didn’t hate me outright. You know? I always thought that maybe you will be the first person who chooses me over everybody else. Is that a lot to ask? I don’t know. Is it? Do you know that I spent more time searching and fighting for you since we met than actually being with you?”
“Mal, you’re hurting me”.
“It’s Kai. I am Kai. You call me Kai, because it’s my name”, he snapped, “it’s the only fucking thing I still have left. And you know who’s to blame for it? Your friends. The bunch of…” he sucked the air through his teeth. His hands were doing the opposite of what he was saying, holding her, rubbing her shoulders so that she doesn’t get cold. Maybe he held her too tightly. She yelped a little with pain, and he almost let go. Pressing his forehead close to hers, he whispered,
“This time I have made that choice for you, okay? Clearly, you need my help. I will never leave you, baby, never. You will be with me forever now, okay? Don’t worry. We’re not drifting away anymore, I won’t let it happen ever again”.
She shivered. As they kissed, she wasn’t sure who’s kissing whom. She knew she wanted it, and at the same time, in her mind, the sirens were going off, wailing like the apocalypse was banging on the walls of her consciousness. She was almost sure she knew what was happening in Mystic Falls.
#kai parker#kai parker imagine#kai parker x reader#tvd imagine#vampire diaries imagine#vampire diaries#legacies#whitmore guy
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Cowardice
Summary: In the aftermath of sharing a bed with Seonghwa, Yeosang struggles to find his feet and the truth in himself.
Word Count: 3.3k
Content Warning: Soul Mate!AU, Dom Park Seonghwa, Sub Kang Yeosang, Rough Kissing, Angst, Fluff, Drama
Yeosang had decided that he was a coward.
It had been three days since he had slept with Seonghwa and today he had to go to his parents for the weekend. In that time, he had spent all of his time out of the house, only coming home once he was sure that Seonghwa would be asleep and only coming out of his room after he was gone. He left a note telling him that he was busy before the holidays. He knew that Seonghwa would be going home for the holidays as well. He always did.
The truth of it was, he didn’t know how to face him after what he had done. Surely Seonghwa was going to ask him to leave when he finally saw him. He had been doing his best to try to find another place to live but he was in the same place he was before. He didn’t have a deposit and he still needed something cheap that would allow him access to public transport and the school. In essence, he was homeless again.
How could he have done something so impossibly stupid? He knew he was only half awake and he knew that whatever he had been dreaming was responsible for his actions. His dreams had never caused him problems before, why were they now? Was it somehow happening because of the impending meeting of his soul mark? How could someone who he had never met possibly be the person he was destined to be with. He understood how it worked but logically, he couldn’t wrap his brain around it.
After talking to his father, he understood his mother’s insistence. His mother … Yoo Dan-ah liked money and it seemed as though this person who was supposedly his destiny was very rich. Never mind that his parents already lived quite comfortably and that his grandmother was extremely rich, she was willing to send her son off into misery for the prospect of more money. His family had never been close but he had never had anything really against his mother until now. He was her son. His father, Kang Dohyun asked him not to think ill of his mother as they had resigned themselves to his fate long ago and that his mother thought that it was unavoidable.
Unavoidable or not, there was no need to rush it. This woman, Bo Seulhee was a chaebol heir and that wasn’t the kind of money his parents had. His mother coveted it. What did it matter if her son was miserable now or in ten years? Every time he thought about it, it made him angry. He wanted to talk to Seonghwa about it, being his best friend he knew his situation but … He just couldn’t. Why did he have to do something so stupid?
The front door opened and closed. Yeosang rolled over and looked at the clock, he had an hour before he needed to get up technically. He could smell the food that Seonghwa had left for him. He was such a coward. He didn’t want to see the accusation and disgust in his best friend’s eyes. He didn’t want to hear him say those words banishing him from the house and his life. He heaved a heavy sigh and sat up.
At that moment, he hated himself and the life that he believed fate had laid out for him. Why couldn’t a man write his own fate? Why did he have to be destined for something other than what his own will dictated? He climbed out of bed and pulled out his bag and packed a couple of changes of clothes. He didn’t need to pack toiletries, he was going home after all. He zipped up his bag and checked the train times again and the ticket he had purchased. He had time to eat before he left. He could grab something on the way but he wasn’t about to pass up the food that Seonghwa had left for him. He liked his homestyle cooking and he liked that someone cared enough about him to get up early to make him breakfast.
Both of his parents worked and he had always been on his own in the mornings when it came to breakfast and often on his own when it came to dinner unless he went to his grandmother’s house after school, which he’d done frequently.
He finished dressing and picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, taking a look at his room. He really did love this house. For all of its structural failings and its diminutive size, he had been so happy here. No matter what happened, he had a feeling his time here was coming to an end. He took a deep breath and opened his door and walked out into the living room.
Much to his great surprise, Seonghwa was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea. His stomach dropped.
Seonghwa looked up at him, his expression unreadable.
Not really sure what to do, he stared back at him for a few seconds before remembering how words worked. “I’m heading to my parents house for the weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.”
Seonghwa stood up and walked over to him. “Are you angry with me?”
“What?”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven-”
“Then what do you call it? There hasn’t been a time in all the months we’ve lived together that I haven’t seen you for a whole day. This house just isn’t big enough for that and our schedules don’t clash that much.” Seonghwa didn’t look angry, he just looked hurt.
That was worse than being angry. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was hurt him. This was not a conversation he wanted to have right now. He was dreading this weekend more than words could say and the last thing in the world he wanted was to be homeless and without his friend while he had it. At least if he could put off this conversation then he could pretend he still had a home and his best friend. “I-” he heaved a sigh and tried again. “I’m sorry.”
“Is it because of what happened between us?” Seonghwa asked.
Yeosang looked startled then lowered his head.
Seonghwa’s heart clenched. So that was what it was. He knew it but had been hoping that he was wrong, that it was just the stress of meeting the person who was supposed to be his life partner or any one of a dozen other things. “Are you just planning on avoiding me forever then?”
“I’m sorry. You’re so nice.” Yeosang said again. “I’ll move out Monday. I didn’t mean for things to get like this. You’re so kind and giving and just so nice, I couldn’t impose on you anymore.”
Unable to look up, he kept his eyes trained on the floor and walked past Seonghwa toward the door, their shoulders brushing as he passed. He hadn’t gotten more than a couple of steps when a hand closed on his arm and he found himself flung backward with some velocity, his back colliding with the wall. The wind was temporarily knocked from his lungs. A hand found its way into his hair, forcefully pulling his head back as Seonghwa’s lips crushed down against his own. He heard the sound of his bag clattering to the floor as he reached for Seonghwa, returning his kiss desperately. Seonghwa’s body pressed against him, his cock instantly swelling in answer.
“I’m not always so nice…” The words came in a breathless whisper and they slithered their way in a shiver down Yeosang’s spine and straight to his cock.
He shivered and leaned back into the heat of that kiss. But this time he was not half asleep, he realized what he was doing and pulled away in abject shock. He tried to find the words but nothing came out. He pushed Seonghwa away, grabbed his bag and coat before running out the front door.
Seonghwa stood watching the closed door for a moment, “Fuck!” He whipped around and swept an arm across the nearby shelf knocking myriad items to the ground. He turned and leaned against the wall he had recently pinned Yeosang to, sliding down to the ground and burying his head in his hands.
He understood now. Yeosang wanted him but he was afraid. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was afraid of but he was terrified. It was a toss up as to whether he was more afraid of what he felt with Seonghwa or what he faced with his possible soul mark. He licked his lips, remembering the desperation and rabid hunger in Yeosang’s kiss. If he could keep him from going, then he could take all of the time that Yeosang needed, he could wait a lifetime for him. If… There was still that woman. If she truly was his soul mark then where did that put him? He didn’t know if Yeosang loved him but he wanted him and that, for now, was enough. He just needed time that he might not have. Was he scared enough that it might drive him to do something rash? He should have just let him go and talked to him when he came back. He had crushes before but he had never been in love before and it was true what they said, it did make you crazy. If he had been in his right mind, he wouldn’t have done that.
All he could hope for now was that Yeosang would actually come back. He looked over at the things he had knocked to the ground and sighed before moving to clean up.
***
Yeosang ran all of the way to the station, only stopping when he reached the platform. He hadn’t grabbed his hat or his scarf and hadn’t even stopped to put his coat on. He did that before slumping down onto a very cold bench. He shifted to put the tail of his coat between him and the cold surface. No one had ever kissed him like that before. He had never felt anything like that before. It wasn’t just passion, it was beyond that. He had been completely consumed by flames he hadn’t even known existed.
Just thinking about it made him instantly hard.
If he hadn’t come to his senses… What would have happened? What did he want to happen? There was no question that Seonghwa desired him. But that just opened a whole other can of worms he wasn’t sure he was ready to open. He knew now that he just had to get through this weekend. He would just put it out of his mind now and deal with the problems at hand.
God he really didn’t want to go home right now. He wished that he could just go to his grandfather’s old cabin in the woods. His grandmother would get mad at his grandfather and send him off to fish. His grandfather had always credited that place with saving his marriage and maybe his life. His grandmother was always sweet to him but she had a temper on her, just like his mother did. He wanted time to be away and just think or better yet, not think anything at all. His life was suddenly going a lot faster than he wanted it to in a direction he wasn’t sure he liked.
He hadn’t even been able to eat breakfast.
Yeosang sighed.
The train ride to his parents house was a long one, made even longer on an empty stomach. He tried to sleep but everytime he closed his eyes, he felt the heat of Seonghwa’s body, the urgency of his kiss, the burning need that seared them both. Was it need? Could it have been called anything else? No, no, he wasn’t going to think about that now. He picked up his phone, half hoping to see a message from Seonghwa. There was nothing.
He opened his phone and looked at the picture of Bo Seulhee his mother sent him. She was a beautiful woman and if things were different, he might have been interested or at least feeling something other than dread. However, if things were different, then she wouldn’t have been interested in him. A chaebol heir would not be interested in the son of an office manager and a banking executive. Sure his parents were well to do but they weren’t crazy rich. His grandmother was rich but she still wasn’t chaebol heir rich.
Maybe she wasn’t sure about this whole thing either. That would be a relief, if she thought the whole idea was as stupid as he did. He didn’t know her and all he could summon up was a feeling of resentment. He couldn’t conceive of dating her let alone marrying her.
He really didn’t want to go home. Instead he took a cab to his grandmother’s house. He crept into the sitting room where his grandmother was reading and put his hands over her eyes, “Guess who.”
“I’d know my little puppy anywhere.” His grandmother caught his hand and drew him around from behind her chair. “But why are you here? I thought you were going home to meet your soulmate.”
“I still am, I just missed you.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek before turning and grabbing a chair to pull up beside her.
“Are you hungry? I can have cook make something for you.” Before he could even answer, she called for her assistant to tell the kitchen to make something for Yeosang. Within fifteen minutes, he had a giant meal in front of him with his grandmother sitting beside him. Since she had already eaten lunch, she sipped a cup of coffee and told him about what all of his old friends were up to. How she happened to know, he couldn’t say. It always seemed like she knew everything about everyone.
“Now, tell me the reason you’re really here.” His grandmother said, giving him a knowing look over the top of her stylish glasses.
He sighed. “I can never keep anything from you.”
“No you can’t, so let’s hear it.” She smiled and squeezed his hand warmly.
“I-” He had always told his grandmother everything. She was the only person in his family he was close with. He just wasn’t sure how to broach this particular subject.
“Is it about your soul mark?” she asked.
“Yes- I mean no. I mean… It’s part of it but not all of it.” He fixed her with a steady gaze and asked, “Do you think I’m weird? That there’s something wrong with me?”
She looked taken aback, “Why in the world would you ask me that? You know I think you’re perfect.” Out of the whole family, she was sure he was the only one that had a heart, he was the only one she was proud of. She had always been disappointed in her own children and most of her grandchildren. Her daughter had chosen a decent man and she could only attribute Yeosang’s goodness to him. Her daughter was and had always been a cold woman who cared little for anything outside of money and appearances. Some of that was her fault but there was little she could do about it at this point.
He smiled but quickly grew solemn again, “I think… I think I like someone.”
“And it’s not this girl you’re meeting?”
Yeosang shook his head.
“You’re not sure you like her?”
Yeosang opened and closed his mouth before reaching to have a sip of the water on the table in front of him. “I don’t- No, I do know. I like him . ”
His grandmother was a shrewd woman, he knew he didn’t need to say anything more. He had said enough. If there was anyone in his family who wouldn’t shun him, it was her. If she shunned him then …
His grandmother’s eyes grew wide and she took a long drink of her coffee, draining it before setting it back down. She cleared her throat and studied Yeosang for a long moment. “Pup…” she began carefully. “Does he like you?”
Yeosang let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He almost felt faint with relief. “I think he does but … I’m scared.” he looked down at the table, “I’m a coward.”
His grandmother reached up and cupped her soft, warm hand against his cheek, “It’s not being a coward when you’ve got something you’re genuinely afraid you’ll lose. It’s not my place to say what you should or shouldn’t do. If you really like this young man then you’re going to have to decide whether pursuing that relationship is worth it to you. No matter what you decide though, you’ll always be my favorite little puppy and if you bring this young man to meet me, I’ll welcome him into my home… No matter what.”
“Grandma…” Yeosang drew a shuddering breath and a tear trickled down his cheek. The one person in the world he could count on to love him without bounds and without question had accepted in him what he hadn’t accepted in himself. His grandmother wiped away his tears and raised her other hand to squish his cheeks and force him into a kissy face. He rolled his eyes and she laughed in genuine merriment.
When she released him, she fished a tissue out of her pocket and handed it to him to wipe his face.
“What about my soul mark?” He asked.
“What about her?”
“Mom wants me to meet her this weekend.” He really didn’t want to.
“Yeosang, is your mother marrying her?”
“Well… no.”
“Then don’t you worry about Yoo Dan-ah. If it’s true that she really is your soul mark and you’re destined to be together, then it’ll happen whether you meet her this weekend or not. I will say though, that if you meet her now and don’t like her, it will be much easier to tell your mother no. She’ll just keep bothering you.” His grandmother stood up and waited for him to do so as well.
She was right. If he avoided meeting Bo Seulhee now, his mother would just call him and harass him daily and might even bring her to his school or something equally annoying. He stood up and she linked her arm through his as they walked back toward the sitting room.
“Now, before you go, tell me all about this young man of yours. Is he a good boy?”
He looked at her in surprise as she asked about Seonghwa. He chuckled, “Yes, he’s one of the kindest, most generous people I’ve ever met. Do you want to see a picture of him?”
Yeosang stayed with his grandmother until dinner time, when his mother called to ask where he was. He was hoping his grandmother would go with him for moral support but it was a rare day that his mother and grandmother were in the same room that it was comfortable. Knowing that, he didn’t ask and merely bid her adieu with a promise to call her once he got home. Of course there was the whole problem of the fact that he had told Seonghwa he was moving out and had been avoiding him for days. He would be well within his rights to just let him go. Now that he knew and acknowledged he liked him, he felt even worse about the whole thing. He had taken his fear and self loathing out on Seonghwa and that hadn’t been fair to him.
God... He liked Seonghwa. He would deal with that after the next impending nightmare, meeting his soul mark. How were you supposed to greet someone who was supposed to be responsible for making your life hell?
Other stories can be found on my Master List.
#ateez#ateez fluff#ateez smut and fluff#seongsang#ateez imagines#ateez angst#kpop smut#kpop fluff#kpop imagines#ateez seonghwa#ateez yeosang#park seonghwa#kang yeosang
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Fate and Fortune
Part 11
Here’s Part 10 but hop on the Fate and Fortune tag for the rest
Second week of 2021 and I’m straight up not having a good time ✌︎('ω')✌︎- I hated the original piece so ended up re-writing it so uhhh good luck with this piece (really not a favorite for me)
For my moots: @fyre23 and @risottoneroo
Content warning: none in particular, just a SLEEZY Steely Dan
The tarot cards laid out before her two stacks- the ones whose stands who are known and those are not. Mr Joestar had politely asked for a reading- wondering if Hermit Purple could help him choose the card Dio’s stand held.
Vera didn’t say it quite off the bat from asking but she had her money in The World- simply because that was the end of their journey as a group was heading- to Dio. It had seemed almost poetic when thorny vines wrapped around the World card. Joseph thanks her for the reading and proceeded ahead to grab some food. So with that, she slid the deck back together and as she rose back up on her feet a quiet whisper over her ear brought her plans of walking back to the others to an abrupt end. “So- this is what Enya’s killer looks like? I suppose I have to thank you, Dio’s faith in her servitude was wavering.”
Vera craned her neck to take a look at the owner of the voice behind her- somewhat handsome if not marred by the godawful sneer plastered over his ear.
“Got some guts coming after me directly, don’t you think?”
Fortune materialized behind the man, Vera taking his moment of surprise to step out from his looming stance over her shoulder. “Got a name, jackass?”
“Dan, Steely Dan. My stand represents the lovers.” He said almost as if he expected her to know who he was. “Now that you know my name and I have most certainly heard more than my fair share about you- join me for a coffee? Just across the street.”
Vera’s scowl only seemed to worsen at the offer. “For what?”
“For taking care of Enya for me, of course. It truly does make my life so much easier.”
She didn’t trust this weasel as far as she could see him and she was convinced the others might smell something was up soon enough but until then she’d have to deal with it- maybe she could manage some information out of this bastard.
“Fine then- let’s talk.” She dematerialized Fortune back and with her hands back into her jean pockets, she followed.
Unsurprisingly two cups of coffee were already set on the table outside the shop. “How hospitable of you. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you knew I was going to take your offer.”
Steely Dan brought his cup to his lips. “Rest assured, I’d never allow any harm to come over a stunning creature such as yourself.”
Vera sat back, bringing a cigarette to her lips. “I’m a bit young for you, aren’t I?” She sneered- the slight twitch in his right eye enough to get a chuckle out of her. “Besides, no matter how pretty I am, doesn’t change the fact that I am, essentially, your enemy.”
“What can I say? Birds of a feather flock together.”
She laughed, watching the others approach her from across the street. About time.
“My, my- your vanity that important to you? How about we cut to the chase, Dan? What do you want?”
Dan leaned in over his edge of the table, folding his arms in front of him. “Surely that’s an easy answer- I’m here to destroy your little group- one by one.”
Uttered just in time for the others to hear.
“And what exactly makes you so confident you stand a chance against five of us?” Polnareff was one to speak first.
The simpering laugh he have made Vera’s blood boil. This guy really thought he trumped them somehow. “Simply put, none of you can lay a hand on me.”
Vera flipped her cigarette between her fingers and pressed the hot coal into the top of his right hand. He flinched away angrily fanning his hand before balling it into a fist and swinging her way. She held her hand up to grab his wrist as a block but Star got him first- sending him....and Mr Joestar flying back.
She ran to Joseph to help him back up again- her mind running furiously to connect why he flew back? Was it a fluke?
When Mr Joestar’s breathing started laboring, her gaze shot towards Jotaro with his grip on Steely Dan.
“Jotaro, stop.”
He shot her one glance over the shoulder before relaxing his grip- Joseph’s breathing evening out a bit.
She looked up at the sleeze ball Dan and scowled- “Your stand, the lovers. You’re interconnected with it aren’t, you?”
“A good start. Doesn’t explain how Mr Joestar’s getting hurt though, does it?” He taunted.
Vera thought about it for a moment, trying to piece together why only Joseph would be targeted. It had to be a choice- he’d pick the seemingly weakest one who couldn’t take the beating.
“The niche of it I’ll yield on but it seems whatever you experience, your stand deals to your target.”
That same sickly smile spread over his lips. “Good looks and good brains- not that the latter matters very much.”
Jotaro grabbed hold of the bastard’s collar again, threatening to kill him too quick for it to hurt. Fortune’s dials moved back quietly over Joseph’s injuries- unable to revert back to the state it was in before the stand but maybe just before the punch. “So... how are you making this work, Dan?”
Somehow knowing more did nothing for her to come up with a plan but when the bastard started making a scene with Jotaro- rock in hand- she started to worry. Vera moved closer to where Jotaro had to be held back by the other two men- when Dan brought the rock up over his shoulder to swing at Jotaro’s head she simply had Fortune snatch it out of his hand.
“Tch, how primitive.” She grabbed hold of Kakyoin’s wrist, pulling him away from the scuffle. “I think you know what to do- I’ll make sure this cuck doesn’t do anything stupid.”
The corners of Kakyoin’s mouth twitched a bit before he and Joseph took off down the street- shortly followed my Polnareff.
“Oh, I see... you think you could exploit a range weakness.”
She didn’t answer, taking a moment to stand beside Jotaro whose jaw was painfully clenched.
“No matter. Since you two will be following me around for a day.” She figured he’d pull the move, fucking sleezeball. He grabbed hold of one of her belt loops and pulled her flush to his side. He threw an arm over her shoulder and started walking.
Jotaro- simmering behind them, followed. “Admittedly, you’re pretty even when you scowl but I think a smile would suit you better, wouldn’t it?”
Steely Dan’s hand wrapped around her jaw, making her look at him- the disdain on her face still evident. She figured he’d threaten her with his own pain, or rather Mr Joestar’s, so she swallowed her pride for a moment and forced a smile.
He let her go completely as they reached the drainage ditch- turning towards Jotaro to instruct him to act as the bridge. “Didn’t take you as the lazy kind, Dan. Surely a physique like yours is earned”, she tried so hard not to say the last bit but she just couldn’t resist. “Especially at your age, walking must be the best way to get that exercise in.”
Once again- the comment made his eye twitch and as penance his leg swung into the pillar. Fortune moved too quick though and moved him just enough to slip and fall on his ass.
Once again, she swallowed her pride and came to his aid- helping him back up on his feet, that sickly sweet smile plastered to her face.
“Oh come now, I’m just teasing. Nothing wrong with being just a little playful, is there?”
He squinted at her in disbelief, as he should, taking her hand regardless and walking past her to address Jotaro. “Troublesome woman- someone should have beat that out of you. It might just end up being me.”
She wrapped her hand around Jotaro’s clenched fist, just long enough for him to relax a bit until Steely Dan gave his next request.
Vera didn’t dare follow Dan, she simply phased herself to the other side of the ditch Jotaro was stretched over- a trick she knew would tip fortune out of her favor for a while but she didn’t care.
“Oh? You actually followed me?” Dan taunted as she bent down to help Jotaro into the other side and fix any of the damages he caused. She didn’t answer him though.
“Tch. Very well.”
“That fuck is going to wish he were never born.” She growled through gritted teeth. Jotaro gazed up at her, the same anger in his eyes.
His hand moved up, almost looking like it was going to cup her face but instead it moved to grab a strand of her hair.
“That move cost you.” He commented as she peered down at the grey strand. Vera was used to moving Fortune forward and back to her will but because she could only move her own forward she noticed little changes like longer nails or outgrown hair a bit too often for her to rule out that other people’s fate didn’t affect her.
The gray hair however... she suppose that was due to the shock her system had been given the past few days. “Doesn’t matter.” She rose up again, taking his hand in hers. “Come on- he’s gonna get up to something I swear.”
They followed after like obedient dogs- both Jotaro and Vera’s patience growing painfully thin. From back scratching to shoe shining- Vera stood between Jotaro and whatever onslaught of petty jabs at Jotaro he could throw. Jotaro’s torture was physical for sure but the scathing comments thrown at Vera had her fingers itch for his neck under her grip.
She angrily wrenched his hand from the hem of her jeans- gritting her teeth as she hissed. “Reach into my jeans one more fucking time and I’ll-“
“You’ll what, dollface?”
“I’ll make what I did to Enya tané in comparison to what I’ll do to you.”
“Oh is that a threat?”
“A promise, motherfucker.”
He shrugged her off, her blood boiling more with every step she has to watch him walk away. “Let me make it up to you, Vera. I’ll treat you to some jewelry...”
It was trouble from the second she stepped into the shop after him- looking at nothing in particular except the back of his neck right in front of her. When it was Jotaro holding the bracelet, it was the only time she couldn’t stop him from getting hurt.
Outside the shop he slipped a gaudy gold necklace around her neck and soon as he finished clasping the thing she phased straight out of it, letting it fall to the ground.
She only gave one look at the piece of jewelry laying on the ground and then up at him. “Suits you better, looks cheap.” Fortune moved towards Jotaro to start on his injuries- Dan thinking he could take a hit on her but once again missing poorly.
“Y’know- I can’t tell when no one’s ever used their own fists to fight their way out.” She gazed over her shoulder at him. “My dodges are slow and the fact that you can’t hit me says a lot. A bit too comfortable with your stand if you ask me.”
As if on qeue, Dan’s frown soon turned bloody. Kakyoin must’ve gotten a hit on the jackass’s stand.
Relieved, Vera reached into Jotaro’s jacket pocket for a cigarette and the notebook he’d been working on. She scribbled down the shit he’d said to her and then closed the book- handing it back to him.
“You’ll take care of this one for me, yeah?”
“You going to check up on the other three?”
“Yeah, best not avoid any brain damage your grandfather could have suffered from the extraction.”
Jotaro nodded- Dan’s begging getting louder as she walked away. She figured it best to let him handle it-moving her own fortune forward was never good and she had the right idea to do so since no sooner she turned a corner down an alleyway did a door slam open and give her a bloody nose.
BONUS:
“You can take a lot of verbal abuse, huh?”
Jotaro had muttered at her as she laid her head on his chest. The night was too young and too hot for them to be touching too much.
“And you can take a lot of physical abuse, what’s your point?”
He gave a huff, of laughter or frustration she wasn’t sure. “You shouldn’t.”
“I don’t. I just don’t deal with it the same as you.” She lifted her head a bit to get more hair out from under her head. “I’m much rather humiliate them before I just punch them.”
“Where’d you pick up that trick?”
She laughed, “Boarding school, unsurprisingly.” She put on her best British posh voice. “A lady’s hands must never draw the blood of her enemies.”she shrugged, laughing at her own impression. “So when you can’t throw hands- violence comes some other way.”
Jotaro only hummed, bringing the little ice pack they’d bought back to her. She took it and gracelessly held it against her nose which had turned violently blue the first few hours.
“I’m sorry.”
The phrase came out of the blue for her but she looked him head on regardless, “For what?”
“Dragging you along.”
She shook her head- “I’m sorry to tell you JoJo but I’m as much after saving Holy as I am avenging my parents-“
The mere word made he zone out, or just become quiet in the conversation.
So he wrapped is arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, letting the doe eyed glare in her eyes clear up a bit before starting the conversation a new.
“She’s not dealing with it well.” Kakyoin sighed, leaning against the hotel balcony railing as Jotaro smoked. “I understand why she’s doing it but I don’t think she processed what she felt back there.”
Jotaro only nodded, swallowing a heavy lump in his throat as he straightened. “She’s been acting off, I’d be lying if I said I’m worried.”
Kakyoin sighed, unfolding his arms over his chest before doing the same. “All we can do is hope that Avdol might know what to tell her.”
#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojo no kimyou na bouken#jojo part 3#jotaro kujo#muhammed avdol#joseph joestar#Noriaki Kakyoin#Jean Pierre Polnareff#OC content#OC Vera#fate and fortune
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Ask meme time! Pick three fics you have written, post a favorite section of each and explain why it is your favorite. Then, pass it on!
How could you ask me to choose between my children?! :P This is fun, though, thank you! I’ll pick three fics that have gotten less traffic compared to my others :) Going under the cut ‘cause it’s kinda long!
from my bones, wrapped around you:
"Mazikeen," Lucifer calls. Maze bites the inside of her cheek and walks back out into the living room. Everyone is sitting on the couch except for Eve—who's hovering near the piano where Maze left her—and Lucifer, at the bar. "At least let me pour you a drink, before you go?"
Maze swallows, looking at all of them. Linda is smiling at her. Trixie's in Chloe's lap, holding a glass of chocolate milk.
Lucifer gestures with her favorite bottle of scotch.
"Okay," she says, and slides onto a stool to watch him pour.
There's quiet conversation behind them; someone talks about calling Ella and Dan. Lucifer slides the glass into her hand and she can't think of drinking it.
"I worried about you, while I was gone," he tells her. "I hoped you were well."
She swirls the scotch around, watching how it reflects the light. "It doesn't really matter how I was."
"I've no idea what you mean," he says.
"I'm supposed to live in the moment, right?" Maze finally takes a drink, rolling the sting around on her tongue. "Benefits of being soulless."
"Mazikeen," Lucifer says, and his voice cracks with something she has to chase down her throat. "I've never lost sleep over your soul. But I care very much about your heart."
Maze's second thought is of the balcony. How she could jump off of it, and he'd use those wings that once upon a time he made her hack off to catch her. Her third thought is about glass, and how it breaks.
Her first thought is, You're home.
Maze chugs the rest of her scotch and tells him, "Make the next one a double."
It’s hard to pick one snippet from this fic, because there were so many little moments where I wanted this reflection of soullessness to weave itself together. Ultimately I went with the culmination, which is this interaction between Maze and Lucifer. These are two people who went from being all each other had to drifting apart while they tried to grow. And now, trying to navigate this horrible mess of lingering loyalty and growing resentment, Lucifer reaches out with this peace offering--pouring her a drink, which is a refrain from the show.
Throughout the fic, Maze has been grappling with her lack of a soul. Rivers told her that she had one, Amenadiel suggested she could grow one. Eve is fixated on the freedom that being soulless brings. And Lucifer, who stood with her in Hell and abandoned her on Earth, says this: it doesn’t matter how you were created, or what you were born with. I see who you’ve become.
from truth (like blood under fingernails):
"You didn't fool me," Dan argues. "I know you."
"No," Lucifer says, "you don't."
Dan takes another step forward. "I do."
"I'm the Devil!"
Dan throws his hands up and snaps, "I know," and Lucifer snarls, "Do you?" and his face is gone, charred and blistering like it's been peeled off under a blowtorch, and—
Dan thinks, Did you do that, too? and—
He understands, suddenly. The mutilated wings he can't touch and the nauseous fear that curls up and hisses in his own belly and the fucking horror of what can you make out of this?
"It won't work," he says, and takes a gnarled hand up in his own. "I'm so fucking tired of running away, Lucifer. I won't do it again."
Lucifer's face flickers back into place. He says, "I don't understand."
Dan swallows. He looks down, traces a careful finger over the ring on Lucifer's hand. "You can't push me away because you're scared. I won't let you."
"You need to leave," Lucifer insists.
"Tell me you don't want me," Dan says. He looks up, meets the confusion in Lucifer's eyes. "You never lie, right? If you can tell me that you don't fucking want me—that you don't want me here—I'll go."
Lucifer's lips purse. He laughs, softly, this beautiful wide-eyed thing spreading across his face. Dan always wants to touch the space between his eyebrows when he looks like that—the gentle furrow of them.
"You still owe me a favor," Lucifer says.
Dan frowns, a little amused. "I… yeah, I do."
"And you'd do anything?" Lucifer asks. "Whatever I asked of you?"
"Of course." Dan reaches as Lucifer pulls his hand away. "Luce, I don't understand."
Lucifer smiles and cups Dan's cheek with the hand and kisses him, chaste and gentle and with the faintest taste of salt even though Dan can't remember him crying, and he feels as all-encompassing as he always does right up until he pulls away.
"Leave me."
Dan opens his eyes, feeling— "What?"
"Pay me my due," Lucifer says, gently. "And leave me."
Hoo, boy. First of all, this fic was supposed to be like 16k of enemies to lovers hate sex, and then it wasn’t. But the penultimate scene is my favorite because of the way we finally see Dan and Lucifer’s hangups smashing against each other--Dan is always running, and Lucifer is always pushing people away. But Dan is finally ready to be brave, and he quite literally sees Lucifer at his worst and wants to stay anyway. So he uses Lucifer’s Devil-ness against him, and gives him an ultimatum to force his hand.
And Lucifer’s response has a lot of layers: at first, he’s genuinely trying to push Dan away with his Devil face. But then there’s a shift that we don’t necessarily understand until the finale scene. For most of the fic, Lucifer has been hanging this favor that Dan owes him over Dan’s head; it’s been in a pretty light-hearted way for Dan, who can’t think of much he wouldn’t do for Lucifer. But for Lucifer, who cares so deeply about free will--who Fell for it, the idea of having that control over Dan was unthinkable. So Lucifer cashes in the favor by forcing Dan to leave him, which is the one thing Dan wouldn’t do of his own free will--thus simultaneously exercising Lucifer’s power over Dan and freeing him from it.
from a heart i couldn’t silence:
"I miss pigeons," says Julian. "I mean, some would say seagulls are effectively the pigeons of the coast, but there's subtleties. Pigeons have a humbleness to them that I can respect—seagulls think they're better than us."
Yen barks out a laugh before she can stop herself. "That's the most incomprehensible pile of bullshit I've ever heard."
"It's not!" Julian insists. "You know I'm right, Yennefer."
Yen rolls her eyes and looks over at Ciri; she's smiling now, her hands still wringing her sweatshirt while she talks to the group.
"... I never thanked you, you know," Julian says abruptly.
Yen shifts uncomfortably. "For what, not failing you? It was for my own benefit—I couldn't risk you retaking my fucking class. I would've killed you and prison isn't in my five year plan."
Julian says, "For Geralt."
Yennefer loathes playing dumb. It's beneath her in every way. She asks, "What about him?"
"There was a month and a half period where I got really into playing 'Jolene' on guitar," Julian answers.
Yen's nostrils flare. "I don't want to play six degrees of separation with your brain right now, Julian."
She can tell it hits too hard by the way his posture changes. She doesn't apologize.
"I know that if you'd asked him not to, he wouldn't have ever…" Julian trails off, but she'll grant him that measure of obscurity. "I mean, I just—I know it makes you uncomfortable. You don't really like me. And I love him more than pretty much anything and… thank you, for that."
What do you love more? Yen wonders. Says nothing about it or anything else that could lead the point of a dagger to somewhere soft.
Remarkably, a crab skitters across the wooden walkway and into the brackish water of the creek.
Julian says, "Forget I said anything," at the same exact time Yen tells him, "It was the way he smiled at you."
"I'm sorry?" Julian asks.
"People like you and I," Yen says slowly, "learned how to be greedy. Geralt doesn't want loudly, or often. He's convinced he isn't made for it."
Julian says softly, "I know."
"And he smiled at you," Yen says, "like he wanted to be wrong."
Look, this scene isn’t even really the point of the fic, so much as it’s setting up for a story like 3 or 4 fics later in the series, but I’m low-key deeply obsessed with yennskier and I just really love this dynamic for them. This mutual dislike that morphs into begrudging respect, and slowly they uncover how similar they are in key ways? I eat that shit up. Also, they’re having this interaction coming off of some joint protectiveness over Ciri, which is also my shit.
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willow
Summary: Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind (inspiration from “willow” by taylor swift)
genre: angst with a happy ending
warnings: swearing
Sometimes, Dan just wishes he tried harder. Other times, he’s just happy he’s still loved by Phil.
There was a time when it was just them against the world. They were scary times but, in a way, Dan had felt the safest during them. Every single risk was taken together and somehow they all paid off. Phil was an anchor, solid to the ground and Dan just clung on for dear life, unable to sway every which way. They were a team, initially fuelled by admiration and love, later fuelled by passion and creativity.
It wasn’t that Dan fell out of love, quite the opposite actually. It was more that he fell so in love that he was scared of how deep he could go. There was a time when he couldn’t do anything without Phil being by his side and that was well and truly terrifying because he was a grown man, so co-dependant that thoughts of how he’d cope alone kept him up at night. The conversation hadn’t gone well, Phil was left hurt and broken down. Dan was left empty.
But they grew; like a willow tree. Strong and beautiful, using their roots to bloom. Their fans were loyal, sticking by them through the awkwardness and turmoil. They never really understood, though.
Dan had thought something was wrong with Phil for a while. He was...happy. And not in his usual Phil way, but something much deeper. His smile was wider, his tongue peeking out the corner more often. He was fresh and ready to work on his projects, never letting the strenuous hours of work he was doing per day get him down.
Dan was happy for him of course, happy that he didn’t dwell on the past. Phil still loved him, though in a much different way to what he once did. Dan told himself that was fine, though.
“Hey...” Phil started, wandering into the living room. It was 10am. Dan hadn’t slept, but he could tell from the way that Phil sat opposite him, his leg not pulled up beneath him, that it was serious.
Dan stopped his typing, peering over the top of his laptop. Phil was looking at him expectantly, his face pulled into an unreadable expression.
“Um, hi?” Dan said, raising an eyebrow.
“Dan, I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen, okay?” he said, lip worried between his teeth.
“Phil...”
“I’m seeing someone. He’s really incredible,” Phil whispered, head down turned.
The pain wasn’t instant, rather a numbness. It took over Dan’s brain like fire, his fingers tingling. He pulled his lips into a smile, what did he expect?
“That’s wonderful, I’m very happy for you,” Dan lied. Phil rolled his eyes at him.
“You’re a terrible liar, but thanks for trying.”
“I’m sorry,” Dan whispered. “I really am happy for you, Phil.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt though, right?” Phil said sadly, his hand grabbing hold of Dan’s. “This doesn’t change us, okay?”
“Phil, don’t worry. I’m not a child,” Dan smiled, squeezing Phil’s hand. The sentiment was nicer than Dan would admit.
It wasn’t true, though. Everything did change and Dan had to pretend it was okay. Even worse, Owen was lovely. He was tall and poised, hair a curly mop atop his head, not unlike Dan’s, with kind green eyes that quite literally twinkled, even under the dim light of Dan and Phil’s living room light. Dan had to sit in the living room and watch a film with them as they giggled, curled up on the one person armchair as if there wasn’t a whole sofa.
“I think I’m gonna retire,” Dan said halfway through the film, when the sound of smacking lips was almost too much for his heart to handle; on the precipice of shattering. He was heartbroken in a way he never had been before.
He stood up, muttering a goodnight in Phil’s direction.
When he was in his bed, he didn’t cry like he wanted to. He just scrolled through depressing quotes on Tumblr, liking a few and leaving the detecting skills up to the fans. He was hurting so badly. He realised he never had really gotten out of that pit. He was falling deeper, but this time he didn’t have Phil’s chest to soften his fall, or his hand to hold when he got a little too close to the end.
Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneakin' in
He could see people already speculating, but it just hurt his heart even more to see the theories.
There was a knock at the door at 12:07am.
“Dan?” Phil’s voice drifted to him.
“Phil,” Dan replied, his voice was much more cracked then he would’ve liked.
“I’m sorry,” Phil whispered. Dan heard him shuffling, confused until the corner of his duvet lifted up and Phil slipped in beside him, their faces inches away.
“What are y-” Dan started.
“I’m trying to apologise to you, you stubborn bitch,” Phil joked, eyes half-lidded.
“You don’t need to apologise, Phil. You deserve to be happy,” Dan promised. Phil’s hand emerged from under the duvet, cradling Dan’s cheek. He felt Phil swipe under his eyes. When did he start to cry?
“So do you,” Phil mumbled, tilting his head.
“I already fucked it up. Don’t let me do it again,” Dan said.
“I love you, idiot,” Phil said, his voice sounded sad now. “But I love Owen, too.”
“I love you, too, Phil,” Dan whispered, choking on a sob.
Phil cradled Dan, pulling him into his chest with an arm around him.
“Well what are we going to do?” Phil asked. He sounded so fucking tired; almost as tired as Dan felt.
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither.”
The more that you say, the less I know
Dan was lost. He woke up the morning after, his bed empty and freezing cold. He wasn’t thriving anymore. He couldn’t go on Tumblr or twitter without seeing his face and he couldn’t go into his own kitchen without seeing his face either.
That's why he was at Reading train station, his mouth dry as he recited his family home address.
His mum didn’t ask too many questions when he called. As soon as he told her, she told him to come to her.
Going back home was positive in ways, but really negative in others. Especially when he’d spent a Christmas with the Lester's once. His childhood home was cold and filled with terrifying things, mental demons and sign posts of things that made him feel nauseous.
“Sweetheart, I made tea,” his mum said, unsure on how to react.
Dan was already crying by the time they’d sat down at the table, telling his mum everything. She probably struggled to follow, but she nodded along and reached out a hand to hold Dan’s when he started clenching his fist, unsure on what to do with his muscles.
“Dan,” she said slowly, her eyes were kind. “You love Phil.”
“That’s the problem,” he whispered, using the heel of his hand to wipe his eyes. “That’s the fucking problem. Because he loves me, too.”
“And I love you, too,” she said. “I know it’s not the same, Daniel, but we’re strong, yeah? We’re here together. I know it’s weird for you, but I’m really happy. You’ve grown into everything I wanted for my child. You’re capable and wise and so so intelligent, Dan. Phil is your best friend, don’t let this ruin you.”
“I’m trying,” he breathed.
“I know, love.”
-
Dan had been ‘home’ for 5 days. It had only been him and his mum. They’d bonded and done things together that they should’ve done before he was 29 years old, but they did them. He felt..happy?
He was woken in the night though, his phone vibrating on the table rousing him from an actually peaceful sleep.
“Phiw?” Dan slurred, eyes squinted at the clock 12:07am
“Dan, come home.”
Phil was sobbing down the phone, actual painful sobs that tore Dan’s heart out.
“Phil, fuck, are you okay?” Dan panicked, jumping out of bed. He was topless, exposed to the cold air, but he didn’t really care.
“Dan, please,” was all Phil cried.
Show me the places where the others gave you scars
“Mum, I have to go,” Dan heard himself saying, knocking on the door to his mums room.
“Why? Are you okay?” she asked groggily. A mothers instinct.
“It’s Phil,” Dan stuttered. “He just called. He’s sobbing down the phone to me, he won’t tell me what's wrong.”
-
Dan’s mum had helped him pack his stuff and gathered him up into her car.
“Mum, it’s like a 90-minute drive.”
“Darling,” was all she said with a shake of her head. “Some things are more important than an extra 90 minutes in bed.”
The ride was tense though, Dan was constantly texting Phil telling him he was on his way,
5 minutes
was the last thing he sent before he was clambering out of his mums car and getting his bags out the boot.
“Bye, mum, thankyou for everything,” Dan said as she stepped out the car to wrap him in a hug, somehow managing despite her tiny frame.
“I love you, look after him.”
“I love you, too. And I will.”
He waved her off, jittering anxiously to get to Phil. Once she was off in the distance, he went up to their apartment, opening the door.
“Phil?” Dan called, dropping his bags down. He was about to go looking before he was pushed up against a wall, lips covering his own. Dan could still taste the salt of his tears.
“Dan,” Phil whimpered as they pulled away briefly for air before reconnecting their lips.
“I’ve got you, bub,” Dan mumbled, pulling Phil even closer to him, two large hands covering his lower back till they were pushed flushed together from head to toe.
They just kept kissing, but their hands stayed where they were. Phil’s embracing around Dan’s neck and Dan rubbing gentle circles into Phil’s back.
When they finally pulled away, Phil rested his forehead against Dan’s, sniffling slightly.
“Dan, I love you.”
“I love you.”
-
When Phil had calmed down, Dan had managed to get him to settle down in his bed to have a bit of extra sleep, clinging to Dan like a koala. Dan would never let him go again if he could help it.
“Dan,” Phil mumbled before he slept, yawning.
“Hmm?” Dan whispered.
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to realise. It’s always been you. I really didn’t want it to be, but it is.”
“It’s always been us, Phil,” Dan promised, kissing the top of his head.
“Dan and Phil vs the world,” Phil muttered, nestling more into Dan’s chest.
I'm begging for you to take my hand
Wreck my plans, that's my man
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with every christmas card i write
a little late because of who i am as a person but here is my @aftgexchange gift for @foxeshaveclaws !! they asked for andreil, the foxes as adults and Allison, so i hope i delivered!!
Snow crunches soft beneath the wheels of Neil’s rental car and he thinks, not for the first time, that Allison’s house is the loveliest thing he’s ever seen. He had never considered himself the kind of person to have architectural preferences, especially as someone who had lived in more abandoned buildings than he could count on two hands, but Allison and Renee’s quaint little cottage made him feel warm every time he saw it. It was all one level, three bedrooms and a big open space connecting the lounge and the kitchen. The garden stretched out for what seemed to be miles, little vegetable patches that were tucked up for the winter and a scattering of vintage furniture, a homey chicken coop in the far corner. A far cry from Neil and Andrew’s modern, cosy apartment, but the perfect setting for their yearly Christmas rendezvous.
Judging by the crowd of cars outside, Neil is the last of the Foxes to arrive; he sees Matt’s truck, and Aaron’s practical family car, a rental that must belong to Nicky and Erik and another that he can only assume is Kevin’s. Andrew, Neil knows, is halfway through a flight at this very moment – scheduling conflicts had meant they’d been apart for a good few weeks, with Andrew’s professional team on a convoluted press tour while Neil’s season had finished for the year, and Neil would be lying if he said he wasn’t missing his boyfriend sorely. Still, a few more hours and Neil’s heart would be back where it belonged.
The familiar silhouettes of his Foxes, his family, flitting around beyond the curved bay window fills Neil with warmth, as he ambles up the cobblestone path with an armful of gift bags and a smile he’s settled into like a comfy sweater. Neil of seven years ago could never have envisioned this kind of Hallmark card life, the pretty green wreath on the front door of the Reynolds-Walker cottage and the welcome mat he knows almost as well as his own.
Allison flings the door open before Neil has even really grazed his knuckles against the wood, wrapping him in a hug that smells like mulled wine and feels like family. “Look who finally showed!”
“Sorry,” Neil says against her shoulder, “I’m late because of who I am as a person”
It startles a laugh out of her, softer and more free than anything Neil remembers from their college days, and she herds him into the lounge where he’s bundled into more hugs than he even really knows what to do with.
“We’re not doing gifts until Andrew is here,” Aaron says, once Neil is settled into the sofa with a cup of coffee. “So we need you to settle the vote”
“We’re split four-for-four,” Matt adds, from beside Neil. “Renee is refusing to weigh in on diplomatic grounds, but half of us wanna watch bad Christmas movies and the other half want to watch the Vipers’ game”
Neil shoots a sidelong glance at Kevin, who raises one brow from where he’s been scrolling through his phone. “I voted Christmas movies, so shut up”
Neil hides a grin behind his mug. “I didn’t say a word”
“Your face did”
He kicks out at Kevin’s hip where he’s sitting cross-legged by the fire, and Kevin yanks at his ankle in protest. It feels familiar, when Dan huffs out a laugh and Aaron rolls his eyes, when Nicky throws a mini marshmallow from his cocoa into the mix. Neil hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this; it was rare for them to all be in the same place at once, these days. Neither Aaron nor Katelyn got much time out of medical school; Matt, Dan, Allison and Kevin were all alongside Neil in the hectic world of professional Exy; Nicky and Erik were in Germany, and Renee was in the process of forming her own not-for-profit charity. It felt like something integral clicked into place when they were all together, and Neil couldn’t stop smiling even if he wanted to.
“Christmas movies,” he says, folding his legs beneath himself. “I see enough Exy as it is”
“Thank you,” Allison says, as Matt, Dan, Aaron and Erik all make noises of complaint. “Honey, do your very worst”
Renee makes a face. “They’re not bad movies, Allison”
Affecting a snobbish voice, Allison lifts her wine glass in the air; “Oh, I’m a very busy businesswoman, and I hate Christmas, and I’m so very single. But what’s this? I’m visiting my hometown? And my childhood best friend works at the Christmas tree farm? And he has a six pack now?”
Renee is trying very, very hard not to smile at Allison’s impression, and Katelyn is laughing freely where she’s tucked against Aaron’s side.
“Don’t forget he’s a single dad, too. That’s a crucial plot point”
“Et tu, Erik?” asks Renee, popping the disc into the player, and the room dissolves into giggles. It reminds Neil of away games back in college, all of them crammed into one motel room at one in the morning, trying not to wake Wymack with their antics.
Neil’s Christmas movie knowledge is pretty limited, but Allison’s impression had been pretty spot on, he decides, only fifteen minutes in. As the uptight businesswoman tears down a strip of tinsel someone had tacked to her office wall, Neil’s eyes begin to slip closed. It isn’t boring, per se, but he had driven all the way here, and he’s sandwiched comfortably between Matt and Nicky, a crocheted blanket draped over his lap while the fireplace burned away on the far wall. All of the main lights had been switched off in favour of the glow from the Christmas tree, and Matt’s shoulder was a warm, welcome presence beneath Neil’s cheek.
If he just closes his eyes, for a little moment…
Laughter is what finally wakes him.
Soft, rumbling, shaking the pillow beneath him.
No, not a pillow, he remembers. Matt’s shoulder.
“This is what I have to live with,” says a voice, familiar, warm, home.
“What you choose to live with,” Aaron corrects, smile dancing around his voice, and the sleep evaporates from Neil in an instant as his brain catches up with itself.
Andrew is standing a few feet from the sofa, arms folded across his chest, a tiny smile playing at his mouth. His hair is ridiculously mussed from where it’s clearly been hidden by a woollen hat and he’s wearing a chunky sweater, the kind Renee often knits for him and one she’d likely thrust upon him the second he entered.
“Andrew,” Neil says, scrambling to stand and nearly braining himself on the coffee table when his legs don’t quite get the message in time. Matt makes a soft, fond noise beside him and Allison laughs, but Neil can only focus on Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.
“Oh,” says Andrew, warm beneath Neil’s fingers as he’s folded into a long-awaited embrace, “decided to join us, have you?”
“Shut up,” Neil tells him, face tucked safely into the crook of Andrew’s neck. Then, quieter, “I missed you”
“Seems like it, sleeping beauty”
Neil grumbles. Andrew’s arms come around his back and he ghosts a secretive kiss to the bend of Neil’s jaw. They stay like that, frozen in time, a perfect Christmas cliché, until Andrew whispers, “I missed you, too”
In just a minute, someone will gasp in faux-surprise and point out the sprig of mistletoe tacked to the ceiling right above their heads. Andrew will tell the room at large to fuck off, but he’ll kiss Neil, anyway, mouth familiar and gentle, and Neil’s heart will beat in double-time. They’ll squeeze themselves into the same spot on the sofa, nestled beneath the kitschy blanket to finish the Christmas movie Renee had put in – a completely different movie to the one Neil had fallen asleep to, not that he particularly notices, with Andrew’s hand tucked safely against his own.
They’ll drink mulled wine and eat sugar cookies, sit in a circle by the fire to trade gifts, little pieces of sentiment that will travel back home to their own little corners of the earth. Kevin will get ahold of Wymack on Skype, a system he’s still getting to grips with, and he’ll tell them they’re all little shits despite his warm, watery eyes.
Neil will stay there, nestled between Andrew and Matt, watching the sun go down through the frosted bay windows, reminiscing with his family until his eyes begin to droop again. They will, all of them, the Foxes, get the Christmas they deserve, with a family they never thought they’d have, and a peace they’d fought tooth and nail for.
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Absurdism Chapter 13
Well, she’s called the Red Huntress for a reason, isn’t she?
Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man)
Warnings: -
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort
Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends
[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr]
First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
---
Chapter 13: Doctor’s Disorders
Danny was in the middle of his usual evening patrol when he heard the roar of Valerie’s hoverboard again. He sighed but slowed, coming to a stop above a quiet street.
It wasn’t hard to guess what she wanted to talk about. Freakshow’s arrest was the big talk of the day, since it was breaking news this morning. And, well, he had sent Valerie to deal with it for him. He owed her that much, at least.
Before long, Valerie came into view, her bright red suit clearly visible even in the falling darkness. Some corner of Danny’s brain itched at the sight, but he dismissed it—he just hadn’t gotten quite used to seeing Valerie in her old suit, that was all.
And then she was in front of him, and his brain screamed and his core ached like an old wound and, oh, yeah, hm.
Because in her hand, she held a long staff, topped off with a large red crystal ball.
“Phantom,” Valerie greeted him when she drew even. Her hold on the staff was loose, but just seeing it prevented Danny from moving a muscle. “I’m glad you waited for me. Don’t think I could’ve caught up with you otherwise.”
If he tried, he could outfly her, yes, but he usually didn’t patrol at his top speed. Not that he could tell her that, with the ball present. Without an active command to follow, it just drowned the world out, dulling his senses. Everything felt muted. Well. Everything but Valerie and the ball.
“No response? Huh.” She cocked her head, then followed his line of sight back to the red crystal. “Oh, does it work even without a command? Guess I’ll get right to the point.”
She cleared her throat, and Danny’s eyes snapped over to her.
“Wow, uh, the unblinking stare is a little creepy. Wait. Why are your eyes red now? Is that because of the ball? Oh, shit, wait, I’m rambling. Phantom.” She cleared her throat again, then straightened her posture, as if she could dispel her nerves that easily. “Phantom, I want you to tell me if you and Specter are really threats. And be honest.”
“Well,” Danny started. He didn’t think he wanted to tell her this, but the buzzing in his mind, echoed in his core, was just so loud. He couldn’t find the words to say anything but what Valerie asked of him. “Specter is young still. Her core still has quite a ways to go before it reaches maturity, so she’ll slowly grow stronger over time. Her powers can still go a lot of directions based on the way she uses them, but she’s leaning towards more defensive powers, now. And she’s very true, very honest. Even if she had powerful offensive capabilities, she wouldn’t be a threat.”
He paused, just for a moment too long, because Valerie asked, “And you?”
“My core is fully matured, and I’m powerful, even for a mature ghost. Most of my powers are offensive in nature, and some are extremely destructive, or could be used that way.” He swallowed. His throat felt dry, all of a sudden. Memories of the would-be future, of Dan’s future, played through his mind, unbidden. “I… I could be a threat. I could be the most destructive ghost to set foot on this planet. I could lay waste to all of Amity, destroy it like it was nothing. Nobody would have the power—the inventions—to stop me.”
It felt like his throat had closed up, but still he kept talking. “But I… I promised I wouldn’t be. I would rather see myself destroyed than see that happen. My… my friends, my family. I promised them, Valerie, I said I would never be that person.”
“Jesus, Phantom,” Valerie whispered. “Man, you’re crying.” He was? “You can wipe that off of your face if you want, jeez. You don’t have to hold still for a statue for me.”
A numbness—he hadn’t even realized he was numb—ebbed away from his core. His limbs stopped feeling like they were made of lead, now, and when had that even started? He lifted a hesitant hand to his face, wiping away— yes, indeed, tears.
“Well, shit, you were maybe a little too honest there. Didn’t even realize that that was possible.” Valerie’s voice was quiet, low, like she was talking to herself. Did she know he could hear her? That his ears were straining to make out every word she spoke, looking for commands that he didn’t even want, but still needed? “Fuck, though. That was genuine distress. Definitely not a threat if he can help it.”
She shook the staff a little, drawing Danny’s eyes back to it. What was she…?
“Oh, Phantom,” Valerie said, louder now, and he turned back to her. “I had another question. Or, well, a theory? That I wanted you to confirm for me.”
He didn’t want to, and couldn’t open his mouth to tell her so. His head nodded of its own accord.
“Good,” she said, pleased, like he’d had a real choice in the matter. Didn’t she know? “So, Specter. She’s… not a proper ghost, is she? Or she can take up a human guise, or something? But she’s. She’s Jazz Fenton, right? Tell me if I’m right about that.”
No.
“Yes, Jazz Fenton is half-ghost, and calls herself Specter in her ghost form.”
Valerie nodded, slowly, like she wasn’t really surprised. Danny figured she wasn’t, not really, if she asked him to confirm. It didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about revealing Jazz’ secret, though, but it was hard to think about that with the buzzing in his mind.
“Okay, so you’re Danny Fenton, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Danny said. He didn’t elaborate. She hadn’t asked for the whole truth. Hopefully this universe’s Danny wouldn’t mind.
“Well, that was all.” She turned to look at the crystal staff, then back to him. “Phantom, you’re free to go.”
Finally the buzzing faded away, and Danny immediately clenched his eyes shut. He refused to look at the ball again. Couldn’t look at the ball again.
“Valerie,” he gritted out, through his teeth. “Break that thing right this fucking second, or I will do it. And I’ll do it blind.”
“What? As long as no one’s using it to rob stores or whatever it’s fine, right?” She didn’t even sound apologetic. “Wouldn’t that be a way better method to stop dangerous ghosts from coming into the city?”
“Do you even know what that staff does?” he growled, fingers digging into the skin around his eyes. Double up on protection against the staff, so he doesn’t accidentally open his eyes and see it. “You can’t— You can’t imagine how it feels, to have control over your everything wrenched away like that! The moment a ghost, any ghost, lays their eyes on that staff, it’s like someone closes a vice around your very self. The world fades away and your mind is just a soft buzz, and it’s like nothing exists except that god damn staff and whoever is fucking holding it!”
“Oh.” Her voice was quiet now, too quiet for Danny to make out any emotions. He consoled himself that he wouldn’t be able to read her expression anyway, with the mask. “I didn’t… Is that how it works?”
“Yes,” he bit out. “And I refuse to let that thing exist for a second more. Break it, Valerie, or I will.”
There was a shifting noise, and Danny tensed himself, ready to make the shot. He didn’t know where it was, would undoubtedly hit Valerie, but…
A crashing noise, like breaking glass.
He opened his eyes automatically, peeking between his fingers to see the staff in Valerie’s hands. The crystal ball was gone, reduced to red shards on her hoverboard.
It still itched in his mind, the fragments of swirls sharp and cutting.
A whine, a flash of light. A sensation of hot-cold.
And again.
“Are you…” he blinked away the after-images of red, red, red, to shoot an incredulous look at Valerie. “Are you shooting the shards?”
“Making sure it’s really destroyed,” she said, flat. “I. Shit, man. I just wanted someone to tell me the truth for once, to be honest with me. Not… I didn’t…”
He heaved a breath, something that could’ve been a sigh. “I figured. I just… I trusted you to deal with that, to make sure it wasn’t an issue.”
“And I turned it against you.” Her voice was grim. “Shit, Danny, I’m sorry. I genuinely didn’t realize it was that bad. Fuck.”
“Don’t… worry too much about it.” He wanted her to realize how fucked-up that was, but… but drowning her in guilt wouldn’t do either of them any good. “It happened. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Yeah. I… yeah.” She nodded, her eyes wandering back to the scorched remains of the crystal ball. They had molten under the ectoplasmic blasts of Valerie’s weaponry, scorched black and misshapen. She still held the staff. “Is the rest dangerous too, or was it just the ball?”
“Just the ball.” He shook his head, like he could throw the memories off that easily. Well. At least it would be hard to have nightmares with how little he slept nowadays. “What… If you kept the staff, what happened to other ghosts? The ones Freakshow had under control?”
Valerie poked the shards with the staff, rolling them around on her board. “I let them go. Took the staff right from Freakshow’s hands, and told the other ghosts they were free to go, that it wouldn’t control them again. Was that… right? Okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that would’ve done the trick.” That, at least, was some comfort. And she didn’t mean it, not like that, and he got that, but still. Doing something terrible because you didn’t realize it was so bad doesn’t make it okay. “I… I’m gonna go.”
“Right,” she said. “Um. I’ll finish up your patrol for you.”
He nodded. Didn’t say anything as he left. Thanking her would’ve been polite, but then, she could’ve just asked for more information, instead of… that.
---
“Um, Phantom?”
Danny turned around, frowning at the person he saw there. “Sidney? What’s up?”
“I, uh.” The full ghost shifted, uncertainly. “A bunch of the kids at Casper High are getting sick, and developing ghost powers. Jazz asked if you knew more about that?”
“Dammit,” he swore, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, yeah, unfortunately I do.” He lifted up from the rooftop, thankfully already in his ghost form. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Oh, uh, yes!”
The flight back was quick—maybe a little too quick for Sidney—and left them hovering over the school. Luckily Danny didn’t have to worry about finding Jazz, because she joined them soon enough.
“Phantom! So, the sickness—”
“It gives them ghost powers, yeah. It’s a side-effect from something else, it’s not like being half-ghost.” He cast out his ghost sense, picking up the muffled effect of the overshadowing mosquitoes, but none were left out in the open. “It’s caused by tiny mosquito ghosts. They phase into students, almost like overshadowing but not quite. Their presence causes ecto-contamination, which is slowly poisoning the students.”
“And that will kill them,” Jazz realized, grimly. “So we need to get them out. But why? How?”
“They’re Spectra’s. She’s using them to farm human DNA from desirable targets. Everyone else is just… caught in the wave, I guess.” He made a face. “She’s trying to build a perfect human body for herself, that’s why she’s targeting the kids. Youth, y’know? We need to get the mosquitoes out.”
“Okay, so I repeat, how?” She gestured at the parents that were already gathering in the parking lot, all hearing about the sick kids. Coming to hear more about how their kid is doing. “And how do we stop Spectra?”
He hummed, thinking it over for a moment. “Alright, here’s my idea. First of all, we need someone we can trust to run the quarantine, or else Bertrand will do it. We can…” Oh, now there was an idea. Jazz was gonna hate it, but it would work. “We’ll get the Fenton parents to run it. You can use your ghost powers to pretend you’re sick, and I’ll come with as your brother. Put up a bit of a play like “wow, isn’t that strangely ghostly?” and they’ll jump to take control of this situation. If Spectra isn’t running the quarantine, she can’t access the DNA she wants, and she’ll be forced out into the open.”
“Oh yeah, because that went so well last time.” Jazz frowned, clearly hesitant. “I don’t know, Phantom. You haven’t interacted with anyone in your human form in ages. I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. And there’s no way my brother won’t find out. What would he think, when he hears about this?”
Uh. Did she not… Wow, Danny, what a screw-up. Did he seriously forget to tell Jazz that her actual brother knew the whole story? Good going, pal.
“We’ll deal with that when it comes to it,” he said, instead of trying to explain all that. They were in a hurry, now. Had to get their parents to take the quarantine before Spectra and Bertrand could. “We have to hurry, now. Come on, let’s find a quiet spot to shift back.”
---
“Your clothes like terrible,” Jazz said, the moment Phantom shifted to human form, and she felt like she could slap herself. “You should’ve told me! I could’ve bought you something less worn down!”
“It’s fine, Jazz.” He tugged on the hem of his shirt, clearly self-conscious now. “I’m usually in my ghost form anyway. Come on, let’s go find our— your parents.”
“Right,” she said, following him. She made a mental note to get Phantom new clothes after this was all done.
Luckily, their parents were easy to find. The two were to the side of the mob, clearly unwilling to join in just yet. Probably because they didn’t have confirmation that their kids were sick, too.
It made Jazz feel a little guilty about what they were about to do, but… Phantom was right. This was the best plan they had, and they couldn’t risk anything else, not with the kids as sick as they were.
“Mom, Dad!” Phantom yelled, and Jazz let herself go soft and pliable against his side. Time to act like her life depended on it.
“Danny, Jazz!” her mom called back, rushing their way. “Oh, Jazz, honey, are you sick too?”
She murmured something incomprehensible, bobbing her head in a limp nod. She flapped a hand in their direction, but turned it invisible, making the gesture useless. Useless for gesturing, but perfect for demonstrating.
“Oh, kiddo.” Her dad crowded against her, taking her weight from Phantom. “Shouldn’t you be with the other kids, if you’re so sick?” His voice was quiet with worry.
“Sorry, it’s just.” Phantom paused, gesturing at her. She took it for the cue it probably was, and flickered invisible for a moment. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and continued. “I just thought the symptoms were… strangely ghostly? Like, what kind of normal sickness would make people go invisible, or intangible, or fly?”
A gloved hand pressed against Jazz’ cheek as her mom leaned in closer. “Yes, that is very odd. It’s almost like ecto-contamination, isn’t it, Jack? Except no one develops ghost-like abilities with that.”
Ha. Little did she know.
“That’s certainly concerning,” her dad agreed, wrapping an arm more tightly around her, like he could make sure she couldn’t go anywhere. She flickered herself invisible once more, feeling his grip tighten a little more in response. “We’ll have to set up some kind of quarantine, figure out what caused this and how to fix this. Danny, you aren’t sick, right?”
Phantom jerked, startled. “Uh, no, no, I’m fine. You go take care of this, I’ll stay clear. I…” He looked at Jazz, licked his lips. “I wouldn’t want to get sick too.”
“Okay. You go back home, then. You might need to make your own dinner, though. We might be a while.”
“Yeah, sure.” He nodded. “I, uh, better get going then.” His eyes darted between all three of them. “And, uh. Stay safe.”
“We will, sweetie.” Her mom pressed a kiss to Phantom’s forehead, before turning back to Jack and Jazz. “Let’s get going. The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll figure this out.”
They moved back to the crowd of parents, leaving Phantom in the hallway. He watched them go, blinking after them. Almost… stunned? And, oh.
He hadn’t interacted with their parents all this time. This plan, no matter how she might’ve felt about it, had forced him to talk to her own parents, to pretend that it hadn’t been months since he had seen his own.
And her mom had kissed him. On his forehead.
She snapped back to the moment when she heard her mom raise her voice, but she wasn’t talking to Jazz. Cold seeped from her core, and, ah. This sketchy doctor-looking guy was Bertrand. That made sense.
“I don’t care that you’re from the government,” Maddie said, sharply. “These kids are suffering from an illness of ectoplasmic origin. The government doesn’t have the resources, nor the experience, to deal with this properly. I will not see these kids suffer from your ignorance. Jack and I are ghost experts, and we will handle this. You can tell your boss that.”
The doctor sneered, but nodded, once, jerkily. Then he turned around and stormed out.
Soon, Spectra would know, and she would come. Jazz would have to leave as soon as possible, so she could help Phantom fight her.
Her parents brought her into the re-purposed gym, steering her into one of the makeshift rooms. Jazz stepped inside, already halfway through pulling on her core when she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Jazz?” Valerie asked, pushing herself up on her elbows. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m, uh. Sick.” She loosened her grip on her core again. Shifting to ghost form would not only reveal her secret to Valerie, but break all the trust they had built. Val wasn’t that trusting of ghosts yet. She would hate them forever, if she found out that Jazz was one—or part of one.
“Right,” Valerie said, sounding utterly unconvinced. She flapped a hand, red ectoplasm curdling around it. “Like I am?”
Jazz flickered invisible demonstratively, but Valerie’s flat look remained.
“Look, Jazz. You look like you’re itching to leave.” Which was true, but also, rude. “Just go. I know a ghost situation when I see one, and this one has ghostly shenanigans written all over it.”
“Fair enough, but…” She frowned at Valerie. “Why would that involve me going anywhere?”
Valerie’s look, impossibly, grew even flatter. “Because you’re Specter? Look, it’s pretty obvious when you get as many clues I picked up on. Just go, I’ll cover for you if your parents come back.”
She felt her heart skip a beat—or two, maybe—at Valerie’s admission. “You know? Since when?!”
“Since not that long ago.” Valerie shook her head, dismissive. “We’ll talk it through later. You probably need to be out there now, don’t you?”
“Yeah, well, you’re probably jumping to come too, aren’t you?” She quirked an eyebrow at Valerie. “Since you’re the Red Huntress and all that?”
Valerie tensed a little. “It’s not like that matters,” she finally said, hesitantly. “I don’t have any of my gear with me. I won’t be any help.”
Jazz snorted, gesturing at Valerie’s hand, which glowed with red ectoplasm once more. “What’s that, then? A night light?”
“You want me to join you?” Valerie shook her head. “That would out my identity. I can’t do that, Jazz.”
“Not if you don’t go alone, it won’t.” And, hey, that was an idea. Using those powers wouldn’t speed up the illness, but it would help her and Phantom. “I’ll shift, and round up a bunch of the students as Specter. You can join in inconspicuously.”
“I don’t even know how to fire a shot with this!” Valerie shook her glowing hand demonstratively. “How would I be any help?!”
“You guys might get in a lucky shot or two. At the very least, you’ll be a distraction to Spectra.” Jazz tugged on her core, shifted to Specter in a bright flash of light. “Keep an ear out for me, okay?”
“Fine,” Valerie muttered, standing up from the bed. “But if I accidentally blast you or your brother I won’t take responsibility.”
Jazz laughed, feeling lighter already. “Duly noted.”
She passed through a few of the rooms and was pleased to find that most students cheered upon seeing her. Few had powers that could be useful in a fight, but Jazz asked them all along nonetheless. And, shockingly, almost all came.
The sounds of a fight reached her once she got close enough to the gym’s walls, and she guided her small army of ghost-powered students to a nearby door. While they navigated there without being noticed, Jazz phased through the wall, finding the hallway beyond occupied.
“Specter!” Phantom greeted her, before pausing to shoot an ecto-blast at Spectra. “Glad to see you!”
“I came as quickly as I could,” she assured him, firing a few blasts of her own. “Where’s Bertrand?”
“Dealt with him first.” Phantom dodged left to avoid Spectra’s lunge, and Jazz dove right.
Faintly, she could hear footsteps approaching. Good. Backup was on the way.
“Aren’t you two precious?” Spectra crooned, grinning at them. “I feel like I could melt looking at you!”
“I wish you would,” Phantom muttered venomously, and Jazz laughed. “Seriously, can’t you just take the hint and stay gone?”
“Oh, like the two of you are any threat to me!” She laughed, honey-sweet and sharp as a knife.
A bolt of ectoplasm hit Spectra right in the chest, knocking her flat against a wall.
It was red.
“Good shot!” Jazz shouted down as the crowd of students cheered. “Come on, Phantom, let’s go show her how pathetic we are!”
Phantom grinned back. “Good thinking!”
They rained down ecto-blasts upon Spectra, gold and green and occasional flashes of other colors—Valerie’s red, but also blue and even pink—until the ghost was collapsed on the ground. Not once did the blasts let up enough for Spectra to move.
“Keep it up!” Jazz called, reaching for her Thermos. Phantom’s blasts grew faster, and the students in the crowd seemed to double their efforts, too. Paulina had found her way to the front, and apparently had some sort of ice powers, repeatedly freezing Spectra’s arms to the floor. Valerie, right next to her, proved her unerring aim by landing blast after blast of red energy against the ghost.
Her hands wrapped around the Thermos, one hand on the lid, ready to release it, Jazz dove. Just before she reached Spectra, she yelled, “Stop!”
Silence fell as everyone halted, and Jazz uncapped the Thermos. Spectra screeched, but couldn’t escape the beam.
Jazz re-capped the Thermos, huffing out an exhausted but satisfied breath. “Got her.”
The other kids cheered, the sound only broken by the occasional cough or wheeze.
“Thanks for your help, folks,” Phantom said, lowering himself to talk to them more easily. “Really, you guys did great. But please get back to your quarantine now, before you get any sicker, yeah?”
They started heading back again, taking the hint when she and Phantom flew up higher again.
“That was a clever idea,” Phantom complimented, taking the Thermos from her. “But now you gotta go back and hide with them. I’ll see if I can figure out a way to replicate the solution from last time, okay?”
“Yeah, alright. Thanks.” She ran a hand through her hair, her core constricting at the upcoming conversation. “Did you know that Valerie figured me out?”
Phantom flinched, almost imperceptibly. “I… Yeah. Is that why it took so long?”
“That, and gathering the other students.” Jazz looked at him, but Phantom’s posture had gotten stiff, defensive. Whatever happened, he didn’t want to talk about it. She would do him that favor. “I’d better get going. See you later, Phantom.”
“Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. Summoned an almost-real smile. “See you later, Jazz.”
She flew back down, invisible as she phased back in her room with Valerie. She touched down, dropped her invisibility, and shifted back in one swift movement.
“Welcome back to the land of the sick,” Valerie greeted her, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Now what?”
“I’m working on it.” She ran a hand through her hair, carding it. “I know how it’s caused, but I don’t know how to stop it. Phantom has more experience, he’ll figure something out soon enough.”
Valerie frowned at her, opened her mouth as if to say something, but the cloth that formed a door to their ramshackle room rustled, stopping her.
“Hey kids,” Maddie’s voice sounded from the opening. “We figured out a solution. Come on!”
“Coming, Mom!” Jazz assured her, and watched her mom disappear again. She turned back to Valerie. “Let’s go, before it gets worse.”
“What about you?” Valerie pushed herself to her feet again, wavering for a short moment before stabilizing. “You’re not really sick, are you?”
Jazz ducked under Valerie’s arm, offering a bit of support. “I’ll find a moment to duck out, or whatever. It’ll be fine.”
“Hm.”
They joined Maddie in the sort-of hallway, other sick students trailing after her.
“Hey, Mom? How did you figure out the fix so quickly?” Jazz asked, walking a little closer to talk more easily. “Wasn’t it a really weird thing?”
“Yes, that’s true,” Maddie agreed easily. “We weren’t sure how to deal with it, actually, but your brother had a brilliant idea! Our Fenton Ghost Catcher can filter out ectoplasmic contamination, and this is undoubtedly caused by such contamination!”
“Huh.” She wasn’t sure why she was surprised by that. Of course Phantom had come in to steer their parents into the right solution.
They entered the open space, where her Dad was waiting with the Ghost Catcher. Jazz hadn’t even realized that it did anything but, well. If it was Phantom’s idea, it must’ve worked. Now she just had to find a way to duck out.
“So now what?” Valerie asked, low. “Because that thing will deal with your whole half-ghost thing too, won’t it?”
“Probably,” Jazz whispered back. “Can you stand on your own? I’ll try to sneak out, or something.”
“Yeah, sure.” Valerie freed herself from Jazz’ grasp, but frowned at her. “But won’t your parents worry, if you’re the only person who didn’t get ‘cured’?”
She made a face. Yeah, they probably would.
“Oh, Jazz!” Phantom hurried up to her, in his human form, and took her arm. “I told our parents I would give you a proper decontamination at home. Come on, let’s go.”
Jazz blinked at him, then nodded. “Uh, yeah, of course. Bye Val, see you later.”
Phantom dragged her along, and they stayed quiet until they were alone in the hallways.
“Thanks, Phantom,” she told him then. “I wasn’t sure how to get out of that alone.”
He jerked to a stop, dropping her arm. Turned to frown at her. “Didn’t Phantom tell you?” he asked, and, uh, what?
“What?”
Sky blue eyes blinked at her for a moment, and, uh.
“Wait, shit. Danny?” What? How? When? How many people knew her secret but didn’t tell her! “Danny! When did you find out?!”
“I— during your last fight with Spectra?” He seemed confused. “Seriously, I talked with Phantom, or other Danny, or whatever. Did he not tell you?”
“No?” What the fuck? “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“Well, he—Phantom—said that his older sibling held off with telling him for a while, so.” Danny shrugged, a little helplessly. “I figured I would hold off too, but I thought that Phantom would end up telling you anyway.”
“Oh my god. You’re the worst.” She pressed her head against his shoulder. “The both of you, by the way. You’re both terrible Danny Fenton.”
“Thanks,” Danny said dryly. “I’ll be sure to remember that next time you need help.”
She groaned into his shoulder.
“Why haven’t you told our parents, anyway?” he asked, after a long moment of silence. “Not be pushy or anything, but wouldn’t that be way safer?”
“Probably,” Jazz admitted, voice muffled by Danny’s shirt. “But they’re so hateful towards ghosts, still. And I know that they’ll accept me anyway, half-ghost or not, but. I want them to change their minds, first, and they won’t do that if they’ll blame all my goodness on being part human.”
Danny shrugged, dislodging her. “Fair enough. But you should probably plan for the occasion, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Jazz agreed, even though she hoped it was ages away. For all she knew, they already knew her secret, too. “I guess I should.”
#danny phantom#dp fanfic#phanfic#fanfic#dp fanfiction#phanfiction#danny fenton#jazz fenton#valerie gray#dark writes#absurdism
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and you’re semi-sweet (chapter one)
t, 4.1k
Dan Howell didn’t have a best friend for the first eighteen years of his life. It’s not until he goes to university and meets the boy across the hall, Phil, that he begins to understand what it feels like to matter to someone.
That’s all well and good, but when he finds out that Phil is gay, he starts to understand something else about himself: something he’s been trying to ignore for a very long time. And he can’t really decide if that’s a good thing.
read on ao3 or below
He finds out on a frigid Saturday morning in November.
Dan wakes up with a splitting headache and an awful taste in his mouth and a bone-deep chill, the last of which means the heating’s gone out overnight again. He’s shivering, all but naked under his thin duvet, and he vaguely remembers stripping down to his underwear before crawling into bed after the club last night. He severely regrets that now.
That’s his first thought of the morning - cursing himself out for his lack of foresight.
His second thought is about Phil.
Phil comes to mind because Dan knows he has a space heater and a bed piled with blankets since he gets easily cold and he’s actually from the north, and so he didn’t do any of the gross underestimating Dan had done about how freezing Manchester could actually get.
Phil also has a strong penchant for sharing, so he doesn’t have to do much thinking before darting out of his bed, throwing on the closest hoodie and pair of sweatpants he can find and skittering across the hall, because he can’t be bothered trying to find a pair of socks to wear. He’s pretty sure they’re all dirty, anyway.
He doesn’t knock first, because Phil’s door is always unlocked, which is why he’s surprised to feel the doorknob jam up on him when he tries to turn it.
That’s unusual.
Phil only locks his door when he’s going out, and Phil did go out with them last night. He just didn’t come home with them. That’s not surprising, though. Phil secretly hates nightclubs and it’s not uncommon for him to dip out early once their mates are all too wasted to really care about keeping track of each other.
Dan goes with him sometimes if he catches him on his way out, because while he’s a bit more adept at clubbing, he’d still rather spend his time housing down kebabs and beating Phil at Mario Kart from the comfort of his own bed.
He also likes Phil a lot better than he likes the rest of their hallmates in general.
“Uh, Phil?” He calls hesitantly, and taps on the door.
No response.
“Phiiiiiiiil,” he calls again, and knocks on the door a bit more aggressively.
The answering silence makes him a bit nervous, because he didn’t actually see Phil leave last night, didn’t know how drunk he might’ve been, if he was sober enough to find his way back or if anyone dodgy was lurking outside and his heart’s starting to actually speed up when he lifts his hand to knock again, only to hear a thump on the other side of the door, followed by what sounds like hurried stumbling and muttered cursing.
“Dan,” Phil seems weirdly out of breath when he bursts out of his bedroom door and into the hall, shutting it behind him immediately and leaning back against it. His eyes are wide and startled, his hair even more messed up than usual and he’s dressed in nothing but a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms.
Seems ill-advised, given how freezing it is in the hall, and he can see goosebumps starting to rise up all over Phil’s arms. Phil doesn’t seem to notice.
“What, uh…” Phil glances down the hallway in both directions before looking back at Dan. He looks a bit more composed now. “Why are you here?”
The question has him a little taken aback because he’s never really had a specific reason for going into Phil’s room, and Phil’s never acted like he needed one. But Phil’s eyes are searching his face and it’s quite disconcerting.
“Um, the heating’s out again?” He replies after some mental fumbling, and he’s not sure why it comes out sounding like a question instead of a statement. It’s only then that Phil seems to notice the goosebumps littering his bare skin, register how cold he is, and quickly wrap his arms around himself. As if that’ll help at all.
He waits for Phil to put two and two together and usher him inside, but he doesn’t, so Dan continues. “So, uh. I was gonna sit by your space heater.”
Phil blinks at him a couple times and worries his bottom lip in between his teeth. He looks like he’s thinking way too hard about such a simple prospect and it’s getting annoying, mostly because Dan’s bare feet are starting to go numb.
“Look, are you alright? I know your brain doesn’t work before your morning Nescafe but you’re acting like you’re on something.”
“I’m fine.” Phil answers a little too quickly. “It’s just, uh…” He shudders and glances around. “Fuck, you’re right, it’s cold. Um…”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the door he’s leaning on opens up behind him and he nearly falls on his ass, but manages to right himself after a few backward stumbles. It’s not like Phil to be coordinated at all, and Dan would be impressed with him if he weren’t so focused on who opened Phil’s door in the first place.
The guy’s tall - taller than both of them which doesn’t happen often, and he’s tanned and ripped, naked save for the tight red briefs stretched across his hips, with shaggy blonde hair and what Dan thinks are blue eyes, but he can’t quite tell because the guy’s rubbing them sleepily.
He’s gorgeous, frankly.
When Dan glances back over at Phil, he’s flushed bright pink in the face, down his neck, and even onto his chest. The guy doesn’t seem to notice as he leans against the doorframe, his gaze still bleary when he looks at Phil.
“Why’d you get up?” He asks, and reaches out to tug Phil closer by the waistband of his pyjama pants. Phil’s but goes to him easily. “It’s… fuck.” He says, and blinks harder, seeming to come to his senses a bit more when his hand moves from Phil’s waistband to rest instead on his hip. “Why is it so cold out here?”
Phil doesn’t say anything. He’s looking at Dan with what looks like a mixture of apprehension and guilt and… maybe a little bit of fear. He hopes he’s just imagining that bit.
“Heating’s out.” He finally croaks when Phil stays silent, and it’s only then that the guy seems to notice his presence at all, head jerking over in his direction and his eyes widening.
“Oh, shit.” He ruffles a hand through his hair when he locks eyes with Dan. “Sorry, mate. Didn’t see you there.”
“Dan, uh. This is Sam.” Phil’s voice sounds almost foreign to Dan when he finally speaks up. “Sam, this is Dan. I guess you guys haven’t met yet.”
No shit, Dan wants to say, since when are you spending your Saturday mornings with guys who look like they just stepped straight out of Playgirl?
He doesn’t say that. Instead, he returns the short nod that Sam gives him in acknowledgement and looks away when he sees him press his lips to Phil’s bare, smooth shoulder. “Come back to bed.” He hears him mumble. He doesn’t hear what Phil mumbles in return, but then there’s the click of the door closing and when he looks up it’s just Phil again, backed up against the door in a way that makes Dan think he wasn’t imagining that fear in his eyes before. He doesn’t like that.
He opens his mouth even though he has no idea what he’s supposed to say, just because the silence is excruciating.
“I’ll see you later, Dan.” Phil cuts him off before he can come up with anything, and in a matter of seconds he’s alone in the hallway again. The sound of the door clicking shut when Phil slips back inside echoes around in his brain.
He stares at the door for longer than he probably should, then turns and pads back to his own bedroom.
He’s not sure what exactly is making him feel so uneasy.
*
Eva phones him that night.
He knows she’ll be drunk before he even picks up, and he considers just ignoring it, but his guilty conscience gets the better of him and he rolls over in bed to grab his phone.
“Hey.” He answers with a barely audible sigh, turning his phone on speaker and resting it on his chest as he lays back down. “What’s up?”
“Dan!” Her voice is upbeat and happy but slurred just enough for him to recognize that she’s definitely not sober. The background noise coming from her end kind of backs that up; bass-boosted party music and yelling and whooping and laughing and inane chatter, all of it muted. He can picture her holed up in the bathroom of someone’s shit university house, cheeks flushed and eyeliner slightly smudged beneath her eyes. He’s seen it enough times.
“Eva.” He laughs a little. It sounds hollow to his own ears, but he’s hoping it passes as genuine over the phone. “Sounds like you’re having a good night.”
“Ugh. Kinda.” He hears a faint click-clacking on her end and pictures her pacing the tiled bathroom floor. “This party’s a bit stupid. The beer is awful and the guys are dicks and it’s too bloody hot. I don’t know why I even bother trying to go out.”
“So don’t go out.” Dan tells her, absentmindedly biting at his thumbnail. “You’ve got loads of friends, I’m sure you could get at least one of them to do something else.”
She’s quiet for a moment and Dan gets the sense that that wasn’t the right answer. He’s never had the right answer for her. He’s in awe that she tolerated his bullshit for as long as she did. Appreciative, but in awe.
“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if you’d gotten into Southampton?” She finally asks. She sounds sad, a bit faraway. He bites down on his lip, hard, because he’s used to their conversations ending up somewhere around here. Alcohol gets them there a lot quicker.
He wishes she would stop wondering, for her sake.
He did get into Southampton.
“Yeah, I dunno.” He says quietly, feeling his gut twist unpleasantly on top of the strange feeling of discomfort that he’s been trying to ignore all day, and he doesn’t really want to think about why. “Wasn’t meant to be though, I guess.”
“You don’t believe that.”
It takes him a second to register what she’s saying. “What?”
“Wasn’t ‘meant to be’?” She sighs into the phone, so heavily that it crackles on his end. “You don’t believe in that. In fate. You think it’s all bullshit.”
He does think that. She knows a lot about him. She didn’t forget everything just because they broke up.
He wants to say a lot of things; has wanted to for a long time, actually. He wants to say he’s sorry for being such a shit boyfriend, he wants to tell her that she’s better off without him, he wants to tell her she’ll find someone better. That it won’t be hard to find someone better. The bar is low.
He doesn’t say those things. He never does because it’ll surely come out wrong, somehow.
He’s so lost in the spiral of figuring out what to say that he nearly shits himself when there’s a knock on his door. He doesn’t know who it is but he frankly doesn’t care, as he’s already springing out of bed and stumbling over an awkward goodbye and apology to Eva before hanging up and tossing the phone back onto his pillow.
Then he freezes because, well, he doesn’t actually have to answer the door. He’s not expecting anyone and he’s not in the mood for company.
His feet seem to move on their own, though, when he hears another gentle knock and a hesitant “...Dan?” on the other side of the door. And then he’s flinging the door open with his heart slightly racing for some reason, to a pair of nervous blue eyes.
*
There’s a massive elephant in the room and it’s fucking weird. He’s never felt lost for words with Phil. He doesn’t think Phil’s ever been lost for words with him either, but here he is, perched on Dan’s bed, completely silent as he swings his legs back and forth.
Dan paces over to his desk and looks out the tiny window in front of it, just to have something to do. Then he gives in.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts, spinning around only to see Phil’s mouth open as though he’s about to speak as well. And then he shuts it.
“What are you sorry for? I was gonna say I’m sorry.” Phil’s eyebrows scrunch together, and Dan frowns.
“You were gonna say you’re sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”
They probably look quite stupid staring each other down, until they both dissolve into a fit of nervous laughter.
And then silence again, but this time it’s easier to speak up.
“I’m sorry for… I dunno, trying to barge in on you having sex? And acting weird around your…” He trails off, because he still doesn’t really know who Sam is. He ventures a guess. “...Boyfriend?”
Phil snorts a little at that and shifts back a little on Dan’s bed, drawing his knees up to his chest. “Sam’s not my boyfriend.” He clarifies, and something in Dan’s chest feels a little bit lighter, though he can’t name what it is or why. “We just… met on Grindr and we’ve hooked up a few times.”
Dan nods slowly and makes his way over to his bed, sitting cross-legged on the end opposite Phil. Phil looks at him and tilts his head slightly.
“I was gonna say, like… sorry? For keeping it from you?”
Dan shrugs. “It’s not like I’m entitled to know unless you want me to,” he picks at a bit of loose thread on his duvet. “I mean I guess you don’t have a choice now, but…” He trails off.
“I guess not. Unless I can get my hands on a Neuralyzer,” Phil offers with a weak laugh. He’s still staring down at his hands and Dan feels a palpable tension in the room while Phil’s joke hangs heavy in between them.
He thinks for a moment, and bites his lip. “You really didn’t want me to know, huh?”
“It’s not you,” Phil’s head snaps up so abruptly that Dan’s stomach actually does a startled flip. Phil’s leg is bouncing a little. “It’s not. It’s just like, everyone. None of my friends from home know, my family doesn’t know… the only people that know are the other gay guys I’ve slept with.” He locks eyes with Dan, finally. “And now you, I guess.”
Dan’s not sure what to make of Phil’s tone. He expects something like disappointment, or maybe relief on a more positive note. But he actually just sounds confused.
It makes a little bit more sense once Phil keeps on talking.
“I didn’t know if you’d be cool with it.” He sighs, and breaks eye contact again. “I can never tell if someone’s gonna be cool with it, so I don’t tell anyone. It’s not because I like keeping secrets.”
Dan tunes most of it out after I didn’t know if you’d be cool with it because it kind of feels like a kick to the stomach. That’s not Phil’s fault though; that he wouldn’t automatically trust him. Dan knows, better than he’d like to know, that any given person’s default reaction to gayness can be… scary.
To say the least.
“Well it’s cool, okay?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as clipped as it does. “It’s fine. You like guys, whatever. That’s, uh. Fine.”
When he makes eye contact with Phil again, Phil looks still looks concerned. Not about himself anymore, though. He looks concerned about Dan.
Dan is also slightly concerned about Dan. His heart is beating a bit too fast. The heating’s still broken but it feels too hot. He’s lightheaded. His gaze moves listlessly around the room, searching for something to ground him. It lands on a thick law textbook on the floor next to his desk.
“I have to study.” He says. It’s like hearing himself from underwater.
“...Oh.” Phil sounds like he’s underwater too. So does the bed, its springs creaking as Phil stands up. “Uh, alright.”
Dan’s still staring at his textbook. He’s not going to use it to study. He’s opened it a grand total of maybe four times this semester, and he’s pretty sure Phil knows that, too.
But Phil doesn’t mention it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Phil tells him softly. Dan can see in his periphery that Phil’s at the door now, his hand resting on the handle. “Good luck with your studying.”
As soon as Phil closes the door behind him, Dan collapses forward, his face sinking down into the fabric of his pillow. He wants to scream, but instead he just lets out a breath - long and deep, like he’s been holding it for a thousand years, but didn’t actually notice until right now.
*
He dreams about a ceiling fan.
His ceiling fan. It spins and spins and spins.
So does his head. It spins and spins and spins. It also hurts. He’s looking too closely at the light, he realizes.
But he doesn’t want to look away from the light. He wants to watch the ceiling fan. He wants to watch it spinning.
Everything looks the same in his room. It’s beige and gold and messy and dingy and his single mattress isn’t comfortable at all. There’s someone next to him. He knows who it is. He doesn’t even bother looking to check.
Everything looks the same in his room, but smaller.
Everything looks the same in his room, but he can’t see his door. He can’t see his window. They’re gone.
He can’t see his door or his window, he can just see his walls, he can just see his dirty clothes strewn across the floor, he can just see his heap of Guitar Hero controllers, he can just see his backpack discarded carelessly in the corner and the keyboard he hasn’t touched in years.
There’s no door and no window.
But there’s a ceiling fan.
He looks at it some more. He listens to it, too. It whirrs and rattles slightly in its futile attempt to push the hot, stuffy air around and somehow turn it into something cooler. It’s not turning cooler. The fan is trying its best, but Dan knows that some things just never really work the way they’re supposed to. By design, it would seem.
The ceiling fan whirrs and rattles. It’s the only thing he can hear. He can’t hear anything outside, or from the rest of his house. Is there even an outside? Is there even a rest of his house? Or is his whole world just this room?
It seems that way.
Eva doesn’t wake up when he gets out of bed, when he starts to pace. She keeps on sleeping. She’s beautiful. She doesn’t look like she’s breathing, but Dan figures she must be. She wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t be so awful as to let her die.
He paces. He paces from one wall to the other. Then he turns around and paces back. Then he turns around and paces back again. The distance seems shorter this time. He’s sweating.
He realizes that the walls are closing in the more he paces, so he stops. The room doesn’t get bigger again. It stays small.
He’s got no idea what to do. He could move or he could stay still and either way he’s not getting out. He looks up again. He looks at the ceiling fan.
It spins and spins and spins. Unfazed by Dan’s panicking, unfazed by the room shrinking.
It’s still not making the room cooler. It’s still not doing its job right. But he watches it spin and spin. It seems even more alive than him. It deserves to be alive more than he does; at least it’s still trying its best. He’s already quit doing that.
He stares up some more. It’s on the ceiling. It’s very high up. Maybe that’s why it’s still going; maybe things are better up there.
He doubts it, but it certainly can’t be worse than the floor. That’s not possible.
Everything looks the same in his room, but he can’t find his window. He can’t find his door.
Maybe the ceiling fan is his way out.
*
His body is drenched in sweat when he jolts awake, gasping for breath. It’s hot, he realizes, so hot, as he kicks off his duvet and hastily tugs off the hoodie he’d gone to bed in.
The heat’s back. He hears the telltale clunking and rattling coming from the furnace, and the temperature itself is bordering on oppressive because apparently their building thermostat’s only two modes are Antarctica and the goddamn Sahara. He groans and rolls over, blindly reaching out his hand and feeling along the floor in the hope that he’s left a water bottle somewhere nearby. He locates one and chugs about half of it while he waits for his heart to stop jackhammering in his chest.
It was a weird dream. He gets those sometimes; he can’t be arsed with symbolism. Not right now. He can be arsed with dragging himself out of bed and shuffling across the hall. He’s still half-asleep and he has no idea what time it is, but the light is on under Phil’s door, so he knocks.
Walking in unannounced - or trying to - doesn’t hold a lot of appeal right now.
It takes a couple seconds, but then he hears shuffling on the other side of the door, and then the doorknob turning. He doesn’t hear a lock click. The door must’ve been unlocked after all, then.
“Dan?” Phil’s eyes are bleary behind his glasses when he opens the door, his hair pushed back from his forehead, and he’s dressed in nothing but the most hideous pair of pink-and-green checked boxers that Dan’s ever seen. “It’s like 5am, why are you up?”
Dan quirks an eyebrow at him. “Why are you up?” He asks in lieu of an answer, because he doesn’t want to talk about why he’s up right now. It seems to be a good enough answer for Phil, anyway, he moves aside and Dan hears the door swing shut behind him as he steps inside and throws himself facedown on Phil’s bed. Phil’s footsteps approach him hesitantly and Dan hears him plop down on the floor next to the bed.
“Are you alright?” Phil asks him, poking him tentatively on the shoulder. “You look kinda ill.”
“Not ill,” he mumbles into Phil’s pillow. “Just overheating.” He happily notes that Phil’s had the good sense to stop blasting his space heater, and instead turn on his bedside fan.
“Oh. Yeah,” Phil grunts and Dan feels the mattress dip a tiny bit on the side, which he takes to mean Phil’s resting his head against it now. “Heating’s fucked. They never get it right here, do they?”
Dan shakes his head. It’s quiet for about a minute, until he hears what sounds like crinkling and crunching next to him and he finally turns his head to see Phil eating what looks like little chocolate beans out of a cellophane bag. Phil notices him and looks slightly sheepish.
“My mum sent me these chocolate covered espresso beans yesterday,” he explains, shoving a few more into his mouth. “And I’ve kinda been eating them all day not thinking about how much caffeine I was having, so I can’t sleep.”
Dan just stares and blinks a couple times before snorting out a laugh and snatching the bag away. “So your solution was to keep eating them? Phil… you’re so thick.”
He thinks he sees something like relief in Phil’s expression, so he feels it in return. This is better. This feels more like them. Not those stilted, uncomfortable chats from earlier.
“They’re good,” Phil insists as he grabs them back, though not before Dan’s able to grab a small handful. He pops one into his mouth and chews, his face reflexively scrunching up as the bittersweetness bursts onto his tongue. “Christ, those are strong,” he reaches over and dumps the rest of his beans back into the bag. “It didn’t occur to you while you were eating those that they’d be heavily caffeinated?”
Phil just swats at him weakly in response, but his clumsiness and bad aim means that he just ends up brushing the back of his hand against Dan’s nose. He bites back a grin.
They do eventually fall asleep around 9am, laid out on Phil’s bed on the tail end of an argument about the merits of white chocolate. Phil drifts off first while Dan’s speaking, which he considers a win on his part. And then without conversation to stimulate him, Dan suddenly feels weary too, resting his head on the pillow next to Phil’s and shutting his eyes.
He feels better.
-
thanks for reading!
this fic is for pff bingo; i’ll reveal which squares it checks off at the end
rating will be adjusted by chapter
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“Arguing” “Bickering”
“Oi Parker!”
“What do you want now?” Peter sighed while keeping his concentration on his web shooters on the lab bench in front of him.
“Parker! Where you at?” Moments later the voice came skipping into the lab along with a mop of blonde curls and laughing blue eyes. Peter ignored his entrance and muttered dryly,
“Yes Harley?”
“So I had this idea-“ Harley paused and jumped up onto the bench to sit beside Peter’s hands, “-that we could hack into the Iron Man armour and change all the names of the protocols.”
Peter lifted his head from staring intently at the webshooters in his hands and gave Harley a blank stare, “why?”
Harley rolled his eyes and pulled out his whiny voice, “oh c’mon! It’ll be fun, what if we could make them all embarrassing and we could totally get it done in a few hours.”
“Wait like the reconnaissance mode to sneaky boi and...” Peter’s face lit up and he trailed off while ideas flooded his mind. Harley beamed and leaned forwards to give him a peck on the forehead,
“Exactly like that, there’s my smart boyfriend.”
Peter ignored his comment and spun his chair around and rolled across to the bench across from him. Harley followed and pulled out a chair while Peter logged in to his laptop and began to start the process.
“He’s going to flip out.” Peter grinned after a few minutes of typing and Harley nodded while furiously typing away at his own computer and uploading it to a USB to transfer to Peter’s computer.
The two teens spent the next half hour working in silence, the odd comment every now and then, until FRIDAY announced that the Avengers needed to be assembled. Peter looked to the ceiling as she spoke, “Boss has requested your presence down on forty seventh, including suits.”
“What’s going on?” Harley asked as Peter jumped out of his chair and pulled his hoodie over his head and dropped it onto the dirty lab floor.
“There is a disturbance of some sort which Mister Strange has informed the Avengers of. I know nothing more.” FRIDAY told them sadly and Harley sighed and nodded while activating the nanotech armour for his Iron Lad suit in his watch. Peter let out a small chuckle knowing Tony would have specifically programmed FRIDAY to announce Stephen Strange as ‘Mister Strange’ rather than ‘Doctor Strange’.
“Well I guess we’d check it out then?” Peter commented when he had the entire Iron Spider suit covering his body and had scanned for malfunctions, Harley gave a quick nod and the two jumped out the building to head towards the danger.
As they neared Peter could hear the yells of civilians and his gut twisted at the thought of someone dangerous enough for Tony to ask for more help. Peter and Harley did tag along on missions and patrols often but it was a rare occurrence when Tony would ask for help when they weren’t there already. Something was wrong.
“Hey you alright?” Harley asked through the comms while glancing at Spider-Man flip over a building. He increased the thrusters and sped through the air towards the crime scene,
“I’m fine. Just a weird feeling about this y’know?”
“Like a spider feeling or...?” Harley asked, feeling nauseous that Peter’s senses were already warning him when they hadn’t even arrived yet.
“Not really sure yet.” Peter let out a sigh and prayed it was just nerves and not anything major.
“Okay well be safe alright?” Harley glanced back at the web slinging hero through his vibranium mask and swallowed the worry consuming his insides.
“I always am, make sure you’re safe too.”
Harley gave a small nod before rising higher into the air and diving towards the scene towards the visible Avengers and connecting to their frequency, “Join me to the hero chat FRI.”
FRIDAY did as he asked and soon the grunts of Avengers and bickering of Captain America and Iron Man filled the teens ears. He laughed and quickly blasted a falling piece of debris into millions of pieces of rubble when it nearly squashed the leaders of the team who were in yet another squabble.
“Hey guys, you might want to watch out, heard there’s a high chance of a meteor shower.” Harley snickered at his own joke and Peter rolled his eyes from where he was on the roof beside Hawkeye.
“Very funny Harles.”
“Alright what’s the go here?” Harley asked, changing to seriousness as he glanced at a hovering man who was around level with half the height of Stark Tower. He had a red glow around him and was flailing his arms around, summoning rocks and debris and throwing them at the Avengers and civilians.
“This guy stole the reality stone.” Black Widow groaned while picking herself up from the pile of rocks she had been thrown into.
“The reality stone?! Like the Aether!” Peter gasped and tried to hide the excitement in his voice. The reality stone had always been his favourite, he didn’t know why but he just found it interesting and had always wanted to see it in real life. Not on these circumstances but it was still cool.
“We can fangirl about it later, right now we need to get it back.” Clint rolled his eyes and shot an arrow at the villain who turned it into a cloud of golden sparkles with a grin. Peter nodded and jumped off the roof and swung down beside Tony.
“Alright well what’s the plan?” Peter asked and narrowed the lenses of his suit, Iron Man glanced at him and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well I think that we should use his own tricks against him with Strange’s stone but Capsicle disagrees.” Tony pouted and Peter wanted so badly to slap himself in the face. Sometimes Tony was worse than Harley and Peter in terms of arguments, and that was saying something.
“Well we shouldn’t risk him getting yet another infinity stone!” Steve agreed and threw his arms up in annoyance. Tony opened his mouth to reply but Peter quickly lunged forwards and shoved him out the way of another chunk of rock hurtling at him from the snickering villain.
“Work your shit out! We can’t hold him off forever while you guys keep bickering!” Harley shouted and watched as Hulk jumped at the villain only to be thrown halfway across the city.
“Harles no offence but this isn’t bickering anymore, it’s arguing.” Peter pointed out and gave Iron Lad a smack to the back of his head before shooting a web and jumping into action.
“Don’t disagree with me darl, it’s bickering and you know it.” Harley smirked under his mask and took off the ground to help the blue and red hero out. Peter noticed Strange now on the roof beside Hawkeye and muttering something while Clint nodded and continued shooting useless arrows at the villain.
“It’s arguing, princess.” Peter shot back along with a web at the villain who snapped his fingers and it turned into a large pool of hot fudge. Peter plummeted down to the ground but quickly caught himself and swung up against another building.
“It’s bickering, Bambi.” Harley licked his lips and began furiously blasting the villain as Peter jumped on his other side and attempted to grab the stone wrapped around his neck.
“It’s arguing-“ Peter strained against the hands gripping his neck, “-love.”
The villain threw Peter down towards the ground again at a fast speed then turned to face Iron Lad who narrowed his eyes and lunged at him. Tony, somehow getting over his arguing-bickering with Cap, flew upwards and caught Spider-Man before he hit the ground.
“It’s bickering, dear.” Harley laughed before getting thrown into the wall of the building, he slid down but quickly hovered above the ground before falling to his death.
“It’s arguing-“ Peter coughed as Tony set him back on the ground and he started breathing again, he was definitely going to get a mark on his neck from that, “-sweet cheeks.”
Tony rolled his eyes and flipped his mask back over his face and took off to get back at the villain for throwing both his boys to their near deaths. Peter laughed weakly and stumbled for a minute while Harley pulled himself from the ground and scanned for any malfunctions in his suit.
“It’s bickering, hotness,” Harley took a breath while taking in the scene above him. Hulk had returned and was jumping at the villain while Strange disobeyed Steve’s recommendations and was using the time stone to attack the hovering man.
“It’s-“ Peter began but was cut off by Steve who threw his shield at the villain and crossed his arms over his chest beside Black Widow who looked ready to tear her brains out.
“Shut up! We get it! Now stop fighting!”
“Arguing.” Peter corrected and Harley scoffed quickly correcting Peter’s correction,
“Bickering.”
“You’re off the team if you ever say the word argue or bicker again. Got it?” Tony threatened from the sky, the comms crackled a little but the message was clear.
“Whatever blows your hair back.” Harley shrugged once he had fully caught his breath and took off the ground to help out.
“We need a name for this guy.” Peter stated, trying to change the conversation and mood of the comms. A chorus of ‘whatevers’ and ‘you do you kid’ were echoed throughout Peter’s ears except for Harley who obviously had to put his opinion in.
“I think he should be Dangerous Dan or the Stone Stealer.”
“That’s ridiculous babe, we should call him something cool like Red Death or Rocky Rick.” Peter argued back and Harley scoffed from his place in the sky.
“Rocky Rick?” Natasha echoed and Peter nodded while launching himself back into the fight.
“The Stone Stealer.” Harley said in a dreamy voice and Peter frowned while pressing his middle and ring finger to his palm, shooting a web at the villain who turned it to spaghetti and sent him falling, yet again, to the ground. Iron Lad saw his significant other in the state and quickly flew down to catch him, “You right sugar?”
Peter beamed from his position in Harley’s, Iron Lad’s, arms and nodded, “I’m fine now hon.”
“What is with the nicknames?!” Clint burst out through the comms making the teens laugh and shrug.
“I’ve heard that nicknames are cute.” Peter informed them as Harley lowered them to the ground with Peter still in his arms bridal style.
“Nah pet names are hot as fuck.” Harley corrected making Peter blush under his mask and laugh.
“Right.” Black Widow sarcastically agreed and watched as Strange overpowered the villain and he was sent plummeting through the sky. Harley set Peter on the ground and the two watched as the red glow disappeared from the villain and Tony snatched up the Aether or reality stone and Cap dealt with the man.
The police showed up and the man was sent for a lifetime in jail, obviously, and the Avengers headed on home to the compound. Harley and Peter went straight to the lab to dump their suits, knowing they needed modifications, and the rest of the Avengers disappeared into their rooms for rest or into the lounge to watch TV.
“I still think the Stone Stealer suits him best.” Harley teased as his suit disbanded and scuttled back into his watch, revealing the mess of blonde curls on his head and shit eating grin on his face.
“Nope, Red Death is way better but you’re too stubborn to admit it.” Peter popped the ‘p’ and his suit scattered across his body and back into his own silver watch which he unclipped from his wrist and set down on the lab bench. Harley spun around from the bench behind Peter and opened his mouth to speak but closed it when he saw the swelling and purple finger marks on Peter’s neck.
“Shit does this hurt?” Harley went into overprotective boyfriend mode and rushed to Peter’s aid while examining the bruising. Peter shrugged him off quickly and turned to face him,
“I’m fine baby.” Peter whispered and Harley sighed loudly while raking his hand through his messy hair. He looked back down at Peter who had a small smile on his lips and laughed, “what?” Peter asked with big brown eyes flickering with confusion.
“I told you pet names were hot.” Harley whispered and leaned in to close the gap between their lips. Peter smiled into the kiss, making it a little awkward but Harley was grinning too so neither minded.
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