A/N: Hey, guys! I decided to push myself and see how far I could go with this story, at least word-wise! I managed to get around 16k words for the whole thing, and I'm so happy! Even though I've written the whole thing, I'm going to be breaking it up into chapters so it's easier to read and find a stopping point (if you're like me and you read all night until the screen blurs). I'll probably post all the chapters at the same time, or maybe space them apart a bit. Idk. I think the phrase that sums up this story is: well, that escalated quickly. So without further ado, here we go!

Warning: M for a reason! Lemon later on. Other than that, no real things besides cursing and unresolved sexual tension. Also Dan has a bit of a shitty life, but I don't believe there should be any trigger warnings.

OoO

The day the gallery opened, Phil was three days into his move to the town. He was just about unpacked (he still had about three boxes to open), but he was so tired of looking at boxes and filling up shelves that he wanted to take a breather. His friend had suggested that Phil go downtown and get to know the area a bit more, so he did just that. Wandering around had proved enlightening and refreshing as the ebony-haired boy took in the sights around him. The town seemed to be a nice place—the shop owners waved to him even though he was a stranger. It was a stark contrast from his parents' house in the city, where you were crammed into houses with a few inches between the rows, and your neighbor could be the Queen for all you knew. This area was a nice change, what with all the soft colors of the shops and no neon lights to be found. Phil could almost taste the saltiness of the sea in the summer breeze that played lightly with his hair, and he knew that the harbor was only a few blocks away. It invigorated him, and as he walked casually through the street, it felt really nice to be somewhere so calm.

It was almost sundown, and the sun cast an orange glow on the pale yellow front of the building he was now standing before. The windows were small and had a bit of natural wear on them, though they looked freshly painted. Light purple shingles flanked the windows, and Phil thought that it looked quite nice despite the odd choice of color. Gorgeous multi-hued blooms seemed to overflow in the long wooden boxes that were situated on the ground in front. All in all, the building looked very inviting, and Phil found himself noticing a small sign next to the letterbox. Gallery grand opening from 5pm-10pm, Phil read, pondering to himself for a second. He checked his watch; it was half past five. Well, why not? So he found himself going up to the door that was the same color as the shingles, and he turned the knob and went inside.

Bells placed inside of the doorway signaled his arrival and he felt a brush against his jeans. Phil looked down and saw a tabby cat with only one ear rubbing against him rather enthusiastically. The cat's meow was more of a squeak, and he found it entirely endearing instead of intimidating, so he reached down and scratched behind the cat's one good ear. He was rewarded with a thundering purr.

A throat cleared. "I see you've met Pirate."

Phil jumped up, a faint blush on his cheeks, leaving 'Pirate' to meow plaintively. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

"That's okay. It is an opening, after all." When Phil's eyes met the stranger's, his mouth hung open a bit. There stood the cutest boy he'd ever seen. Standing about as tall as Phil, the boy was slender with honey-dipped skin and wore a somewhat grungy t-shirt riddled with paint blobs and jeans that were equally as stained. The look was cute on the boy, even though on any other person it would be ridiculous. The boy just made it work somehow. Chocolate locks framed a delicate face, and dark brown eyes stared at him amusedly and expectantly.

Phil realized he had been staring, so he cleared his throat awkwardly and wore a smile that he felt with his heart. "So, um, my name's Phil."

The boy smiled brilliantly, and Phil's chest ached a bit at the look. The boy held out his hand for Phil to shake, which Phil did (and hoped the boy didn't notice the damp quality of his palms). "Name's Dan. Nice to meet you."

"You, too," Phil said, and he was. It was neat to find someone who seemed so interesting in this small town. Phil heard another meow-squeak and looked down at the cat. "So, Pirate? Isn't that the wrong body part?"

Dan laughed good-naturedly. "Yeah, but I figured it was pretty ironic. Poor cat got his ear sliced off in a battle with one of the neighborhood cats, so I figured it was appropriate. Because of that, he doesn't trust anyone very easily. He seems to have taken a liking to you, though."

Phil looked at the cat currently weaving between his legs and laughed. "So it would seem."

Dan laughed again, though his stare seemed penetrating and made Phil feel a bit naked. "Maybe he sees something in you."

"Maybe," Phil echoed breathily, a warm feeling pooling in his stomach at the somewhat hungry look Dan was giving him. It was gone in an instant, and Dan's face relaxed into a smile. Phil suddenly remembered why he was here, so he questioned, "So, you just opened?"

Dan's eyes widened comically. "Oh, yeah! Yes, I've just opened today. Though nobody really showed up except for you. I guess maybe everyone wanted to go out to the beach or something, enjoy the nice weather." Dan blinked slowly as if a thought came to him. "I guess you want to see the place, eh?"

Phil found Dan's excitement and apparent scatter-brained antics rather cute, and he found himself nodding. After all, that was why he was here. "Sure. If Pirate lets me go long enough."

Dan laughed. "Yeah, he can be pretty affectionate once he trusts you."

Phil smiled, feeling happy that both the cat and its master seemed to like him from the start. Maybe moving here was a good thing, after all.

Dan turned around and started walking across the room, beckoning the ebony-haired boy to follow him. Phil managed to successfully disentangle himself from the purring kitty and followed the brunette. Pirate only seemed a little miffed, but then he began following Phil in a sort of lovesick way, which made the tall boy chuckle.

Now that he was going deeper into the room, he had time to notice what was around him. The space was surprisingly big for how small it had looked outside. The floor was cement and looked new, despite some specks of paint that somehow didn't look at all out of place. On the wall in the back and to the right hung gorgeous images of various things, like fruit and figures. The figures were all male, most of which were naked. Thankfully they had fabric covering their bits, which made Phil feel a bit immature for thinking it but still relieved. He loved how each of the figures seemed to be alive, like they could jump out at you at any moment. They looked like photographs, but the minute traces of brushstrokes were a telltale sign that they were painted.

Phil turned back to Dan and found the boy watching him closely. The brunette blushed a bit, seemingly embarrassed for being caught in the act. "That's the gallery part of the place. We only have one artist so far, but I'm trying to get a few more for some variety." The boy pointed to the left side of the room. "Here is where I'm gonna try to set up some classes. I'm trying to get a few more supplies and easels, but it's pretty expensive and I have to drive at least an hour away to get them. I only really have enough for one or two students at most."

Phil could see two easels set up along the wall, one bare and one holding up a half-finished painting of a cat. There were two stools: one with a palette resting upon it and placed to the side of the easel and one that was empty and in front of the easel. Phil smiled when he realized that the cat was Pirate, in all of his fearsome (well, at least the cat tried to be) glory. He realized something. "Hey, when you said you found only one artist, were you talking about yourself?"

Dan's cheeks turned rosy-red, and he scratched the back of his head. "Erm, yeah. I'm the only one here, period. I tried getting some ads on the town bulletin board for a few weeks, but no one responded. I guess no one's really interested in art here."

"I'm interested," Phil found himself blurting out, blushing immediately. He tried to make his tone a bit more conversational. "Well, if you're still looking for someone. I just moved here, and I haven't even thought about a job yet, so maybe I could help around a bit? You know, sweep up the messes and stuff? I'm pretty handy with a broom. One time, when I was—"

"Yeah," Dan cut in mercifully, "that could work." And then the brunette smiled so wide that it made Phil's heart do that flippy-over thing, and the ebony-haired boy knew he was in for it. "Could you come in tomorrow at, say, ten?"

"Yeah," Phil answered. "Sure."

"Awesome!" Dan grinned, and Phil found himself copying the other boy.

Then Phil remembered something and looked at his watch. He groaned. "Shit, I have to get back. I left my friend to do some of the unpacking, and I've been gone for a while. He's probably gonna get really mad."

Dan frowned, a look of disappointment flashing in his eyes. Phil couldn't stand that look, so he said, "But tomorrow, at ten. I'll be there."

Dan's face lit up. "Yeah, at ten. You better show up!"

"I will!" Phil promised. And as Phil exited the shop (after saying a goodbye to the ever-complaining Pirate), he added in his head, you won't ever have to worry about that.

OoO

Phil was early. He had been so excited to come back to the gallery that he had been up all night and got almost no sleep, and the three cups of coffee he had downed in the morning didn't help his nerves at all. He found himself standing in front of the gallery at half-past nine, debating on whether he should go in. I'm sure it'll be fine, he decided, and walked through the door.

He barely had time to think as a furry object basically mauled him and now was rubbing against his legs and purring at full-blast. Phil chuckled and scratched behind Pirate's good ear obediently, glancing around to find the cat's owner. Since it was an open room, it wasn't that hard, and Phil was rewarded with a cute sight.

Dan's back was turned a bit, but Phil could still clearly see the look of concentration on the brunette's face as the boy stared at the picture. It was a different picture than the one Phil saw yesterday, and the ebony-haired boy could see a half-finished portrait of his own face. It was crazily good, and Phil felt a little embarrassed but humble as he saw Dan lift up the paintbrush to add a small streak of blue-green to the eyes.

Phil felt a little weird just watching, so he cleared his throat awkwardly. Dan jumped in his chair comically and spun around, a look of embarrassment in his eyes and his cheeks a dusty rose color. The brunette quickly started, "Erm, well, sorry about this. I just didn't expect you so soon, and I was gonna put it away, and shit this is kind of embarrassing, and—"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," Phil reassured, raising his hands in a placating manner. "It's okay. I'm actually kind of honored."

Dan's relief was visible, but his cheeks still had a hint of red in them. "Erm, that's good, then. Sorry, I usually don't do this kind of thing, but I just wanted to get your face down just in case."

"In case of what?"

Dan's voice took on a slightly somber tone. "In case you didn't come back."

"Of course I'd come back," Phil said, shocked that Dan would think that. "I mean, I think this whole thing is cool, you know? I'm horrible at art, and I can admire anyone who makes a living off of the stuff. And I guess I couldn't leave Pirate here alone." The 'and you' was unspoken, but Phil knew that Dan would catch his drift.

The brunette suddenly smiled, unhappy expression wiped clean off of his face and replaced with one of genuine affection. "Good. Because he's really loud and annoying when he's sad. You can hear him yowling from a mile away."

Phil could sense the deeper meaning behind Dan's joke, and felt rather flattered in the weird way he had come to expect from his interactions with the brunette. Phil suddenly remembered why he was here, and cleared his throat. "So, uh…what do you want me to do?"

Dan's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah! You're here to work!"

As opposed to me standing here talking and trying to squelch my urges to bend you over that stool and take you? Phil found himself asking smartly in his head, slightly horrified at himself and very glad that he hadn't really asked that. Instead, he replied, "Yeah. What would you have me do, O Great Master?"

Dan's eyes took on a rather dark look and Phil gulped at the sudden intensity. It was replaced as soon as it had come, and Dan smiled. "Okay, well you can start by helping me move that painting over there." Dan turned around and walked over to the painting in question, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, that comes later. Phil was a bit confused, but shrugged it off as he followed the brunette.

The painting was massive. The two boys could barely lift it up, but they managed to get it hung on the right-hand wall. When they were done and admiring their work (Phil was sure it was hanging a bit off, but Dan seemed happy, so he was, too), Phil took a closer inspection of the piece. It seemed more abstract and somehow darker than the rest of the paintings. Red and purple streaks marred an otherwise deep black background, the brushstrokes concentrated in the center and splaying outwards and obviously the main focus of the painting. It seemed more macabre than most of Dan's other paintings, and Phil felt himself both intrigued and a little depressed looking at it. It's like a bruise.

He felt compelled to ask about it, so he did. "So what's this one all about?"

Dan looked at the painting thoughtfully, and replied, "Well, I was in a pretty rough period of my life when I did this one." His voice sounded far away, like he was in another time and place. "I got into some really heavy shit, like, I got kicked out of my parents' house and was homeless for a year. The only way I made money was selling art on the street. I'm glad I remembered to take my art supplies with me; they really saved me. Gave me a purpose, something to look forward to. I would paint on scraps of cardboard and sell them for about 6 pounds, and people seemed to like them, so I made more.

"This one I made on my birthday, the one-year anniversary of being kicked out. I found a big canvas that someone had just thrown away for some unknown reason. I really didn't need the heavy burden, but it just spoke to me, so I took it anyway. I used the last of my paints on this thing. Since I couldn't make any more paintings, I had to burn the leftover artwork so I could be warm. I could have sold this one, but I just hung onto it for some reason.

"A week later, some important-looking business guy came up to me and said he'd offer me 100 pounds for the painting. I said no, and he upped the price to 200. The price shocked me, but I still couldn't bear to let it go. I guess he saw that, because all of a sudden he grabbed my hand and marched me over to this real fancy-looking building. I ended up getting a job as an art teacher at the place. I don't know what I did, or what he saw in me, but I'm still wondering how I got this lucky.

"I worked there for about two years, saving every paycheck I got. Finally, when I had enough money, I decided to up and move from the city to somewhere where I wasn't reminded of the hell I had to go through. So I moved here, and I decided to open up this gallery. And then I ended up meeting you, so I'm pretty glad I came." Dan's sudden smile was bright and unexpected in contrast to his dark tale. Phil was so enraptured that he realized with a start that Dan was done, and looking at him with a somewhat nervous look.

"Wow," Phil said, because what can you say to that? He tried to find something meaningful to say, something to make Dan feel better, but Phil was really shit at this kind of stuff, so instead he asked, "So why are you putting it up here? The picture, I mean. Wouldn't that remind you of all that bad stuff?"

Dan's answer was immediate, like he had done a lot of thinking about it himself. "Well, I guess so I can remember my roots. You have to know where you've started in order to feel proud of what you've done, or something like that."

Phil felt amazed that this person who seemed so happy could go through all of that horrible stuff and come out so appreciative. A question plagued his mind. "So why were you kicked out?"

Dan hesitated a bit, biting his lip worriedly before answering, "Because I told them I was gay."

"Oh," was Phil's deep and meaningful answer. Well, things just got a lot more complicated. And wonderful. Phil felt bad for being relieved; it was really horrible what happened to Dan, but Phil was also glad in a way that there might just be an itsy-bitsy chance that he could make it with the brunette. He tried again. "Shit, that's a lot to take in. I'm sorry that happened to you. No one should live through that. I guess I've been lucky, because my parents accepted me when I came out to them."

There, he had said it. Now that the truth was out on the table for Dan to take it or leave it, Phil felt a little sense of relief. He did think that he was incredibly lucky to have such wonderful parents who still loved him regardless of his sexual orientation, and that mattered the world to him. He wished that Dan could have had parents like that.

Dan's lips were pulled in a slight smirk, veiled amusement dancing in his eyes. What's so funny? Phil asked himself, confused. Dan suddenly smiled, and Phil's confusion vanished only to be replaced with that floaty, butterflies-in-the-tummy feeling that he had come to associate with the brunette. Dan suddenly blushed, scratching the back of his head. "Geeze, we've only met for two days and already I'm giving you the story of my life. Sorry for that. I just feel like I know you, like you're trustworthy or something. I haven't had anyone like that, so I guess things all just came tumbling out. Sorry, mate."

"It's okay," Phil reassured, "I'm happy that you trust me enough to tell me all that. I feel the same way about you. I don't know why. It feels like we would've been friends in school or something."

Dan smiled warmly. "I would have liked that."

Phil returned the smile, glad that Dan was so accepting of him. It felt nice to have someone to talk to where you didn't have to constantly edit yourself (though he was sure it wasn't the time now to share his strange attraction to the boy). He was glad that he had moved here despite the bickering that he and his parents had gone through.

"You know what I just realized?" Dan asked thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Here I am, telling you about my life, and I've barely heard anything about you. Anything you care to tell me about yourself?" Dan questioned somewhat sheepishly.

"Um, sure," Phil responded. "There's not much to really tell; I've kind of had a boring life. I grew up in the city, and I've lived with my parents most of my life. Money was kind of tight, but not terribly so, so I could live comfortably with what we had. I was kind of shy in school, but I managed to get a few friends, so it wasn't all that bad. When I was fifteen, I found out that I was gay. It wasn't really that shocking; I had tons of girl friends but never really seemed interested in them. Dated some of them, but I ended it before I really got involved. When I came out, though, I suddenly lost my friends. I went to a pretty conservative school, so it was bound to happen.

"There was one girl that stuck around. Her name was Lucy. We had lots of fun together, until she decided that she liked me, and then things got weird. I tried dating her, because it seemed like a natural thing to do and I was so desperate to be liked. It went on for a while, but when it came time to do the deed, I realized that I just wanted to be friends with her and hang out again like we used to. Needless to say, that didn't go over well, and she abandoned me for some better friends. It was kind of lonely having no one, but I was okay, because when we broke up, I was almost out of school.

"When I graduated, it was a great relief. I felt so free to do things. I went to university for a year, and then took a break and held a couple of odd jobs. Nothing really fulfilled me, though, so a few weeks ago I decided to move. I wanted to get out of the stink of the city, where I could never make it. So I decided to come here, because we went on vacation here once and it seemed like a great place. I'm glad I did," Phil ended his story with a shy smile and a shrug. "So that's it. Not really very exciting, but I reckon it's a decent life, so I'm not complaining."

Dan's gaze was searching, like he was waiting for something. Phil wondered if he imagined the flicker of slight disappointment in his eyes, but it was gone and a smile lit up Dan's face. "Sounds like a lot on your plate. I'm glad you came here, too. Your parents sound cool; I'd love to meet them someday."

"Well, I'm sure you will," Phil answered back to Dan's unasked question. "They're probably going mad right now, so I'm sure they'll visit."

"That's cool," Dan said casually, and Phil saw straight through him. Phil wondered how their relationship—could he call it that?—seemed to be getting deeper and deeper even though they just met. He figured that if you met the right person, it might be like that. He and Dan just seemed to click, and it felt so right being here under the dim gallery lights, trading stories like they were long-lost friends.

"So, want to help me with this?" Dan asked, pointing to a large pile of tape that looked half-painted piled in a corner. "I know I have some hoarding tendencies, but I think these need to go in the trash."

"Sure," Phil responded, and they headed over to the corner.

The rest of the day went like that. Dan would find something to do, and Phil would comply to the best of his ability. They fell into a pattern of light conversation; Dan seemed done for the day in regards to heavy subject matter, and honestly, Phil was a bit tired from their heart-to-heart. Pirate would come up and brush against Phil's legs, and he would obediently give the tabby a scratch, but other than that, it was a very peaceful afternoon.

When it came time for closing, Dan looked a bit hesitant. "So, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Phil answered. "Ten again?"

"Yup," Dan smiled. "Or your could come earlier, if you want. It's not like I have a schedule."

"Yeah, sounds good," Phil grinned, already anticipating spending more time with the brunette. Dan waved to Phil from the doorway as the ebony-haired boy began his trek home with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face.

OoO

The next day, Phil was up and early and at the gallery by half past nine. He opened the door, this time ready for the ball of fur that attached itself to his legs. He gave Pirate a scratch and went deeper inside. Dan was situated at the easel, and Phil had a feeling of deja vu from the previous day. This time, there was a blank canvas. Phil briefly wondered where the previous painting had gone, but ignored the thought as he walked over to the brunette.

"Hey," he breathed when he stood behind Dan.

"Hey, yourself," Dan grinned, turning around.

"So what do you want me to do today?" Phil asked, ready to help and feeling energized.

"I was thinking we'd do something a bit different," Dan told him. He patted the stool next to him, which was situated in front of the other easel. Phil realized that he hadn't noticed that the other easel now sported a blank canvas, as well.

He realized what was happening, and he groaned. "Oh, but I'm rubbish at art. I couldn't do something like you do. I can't even draw stick figures!"

Dan smiled. "It's really not that hard, once you learn how to do it. It just takes practice. C'mon, just humor me."

Phil sighed. Dan had gone to the trouble of setting this up for him, so Phil felt obliged to at least attempt something. As he sat in the seat, he warned, "Okay, but don't be disappointed if I don't turn out like Picasso or anything."

Dan laughed. "I don't think that's what we'll be aiming for, but I'm sure you're not that bad."

"We'll see," Phil muttered, hoping he would do all right so he didn't disappoint his friend. His friend. Phil was happy at the thought, and hoped that Dan considered him a friend as well. He decided to try and enjoy this lesson, because Dan looked so happy that Phil had agreed, and Phil didn't want to be rude and unappreciative. "So how do we start?"

"Okay, so what we have here is your basic setup. Brushes, paint, a can of water, a palette for mixing the paint, and your canvas," Dan pointed out the various items as he talked. "It's very important to have good quality brushes and paint; if you have lesser quality ones, the brushes will leave streaks and the paint will be too thin to work with. Canvases come in all textures and sizes, but I figured I'd get you a smoother one to begin with. I got a slightly bigger one so you could focus on the feeling of painting rather than concentrate on the finer details."

Phil sat enraptured at Dan's explanation. The brunette really seemed to know what he was talking about, and it made Phil happy to know that he was in good hands.

The brunette continued. "So here's what you do. Squirt a little bit of the black and the white into two separate places on the palette. We're going to work with just black and white so you can just focus on what you're doing rather than how the colors go together. You're going to pick up your brush like so and dip it in the water. Making sure that the brush has a good amount of water, mix it into the paint. You have to water down the paint in order for it to run smoothly on the canvas, or else you get big blobs. While some artists like to do that, and it's a style in and of itself, it's best to make it smooth if you're just beginning."

Phil mirrored Dan's movements and picked up the brush, wetting it with water and mixing it in the paint. "So now what?"

"Now you paint," Dan said simply. "Just run your brush over the canvas and practice a few strokes. Try to make them as even as possible. Like this." Dan showed him a few examples by painting on his own canvas. The streaks were even, and Phil hoped that he could do the same thing.

Phil did as he was told, but his streaks were a messy and uneven. After a few failed tries, he groaned in frustration. "This is so simple, but I'm really not doing it well."

"Here, let me help," Dan said softly, and came around to the back of Phil. The brunette took Phil's hand in his own, and Phil could feel Dan press against his back and the tickle of Dan's breath against his ear. "Like this."

Dan guided Phil's hand up to the canvas and pressed the brush to the white space. He moved their hands down in a sweeping motion, and Phil saw a perfect streak left in the brush's wake. When Dan was done, he lingered a little longer than necessary, and Phil felt his body heating up at the touch. As the brunette pulled away, Phil was suddenly cold, and he shivered slightly at the loss. Dan's voice was breathy when he said, "Now you do it."

Phil picked up the brush and, despite the slight tremor in his hands, managed to make a perfect streak. "I did it!"

"Good job," Dan commended, and Phil turned around to see a bright grin on Dan's face. There was a slightly unreadable look in the brunette's eyes, but it was gone before Phil could blink. "So, now we're going to do blocks."

Phil was confused. "Blocks? Like children's blocks?"

Dan laughed. "No, like cubes, triangles, stuff like that. It's important to know the basics, even if it might be a bit boring."

"I don't think it's boring," Phil said shyly. "I'm glad that you're teaching me this."

"Sure, no problem. It's really fun for me, too. I'm glad you're picking it up so quickly." Dan's tone was warm. "Okay, so now we're going to do shapes. Pick up your brush, mix together some white and a tiny bit of black, and make a circle."

Phil did as he was told. The circle wasn't perfect, but Phil felt proud that it at least looked somewhat symmetrical.

"Okay, good. Now we're going to give it some depth. Mix a little more black into the gray."

Phil did, and looked over to Dan. In that time, the brunette had made a circle of his own. Dan continued. "So about halfway down the circle, you're going to make a crescent with the darker gray, leaving the rest in the original color." Dan demonstrated it for Phil, who in turn copied what Dan had done. "Now mix a little more black into the gray, and make a smaller crescent in the gray we just painted. You're going to continue to do that until you have a small sliver and your gray is mostly black, like this." Dan showed Phil what he meant, going slowly as to let Phil sink in the information. "Now you're going to clean off your brush in the can of water, dip it in the white paint, and paint a small circle in the original gray."

Phil copied the brunette, and looked at his circle. It was a bit sloppy compared to Dan's, and the lines were a bit shaky, but it looked pretty decent overall. It at least looked like it was a ball, and Phil was proud of himself for making it. Dan's whisper of, "That's great!" helped tremendously, as well.

"See? Once you get the hang of it, it gets easier as you go along. I think you're off to a great start," Dan commented, and Phil could feel his cheeks burn from the compliment. "I think that's it for today, though. We still have a ton of things to do."

Phil murmured his agreement and shyly said, "Well, thanks for teaching me. It makes me feel a bit better knowing that I'm not rubbish at art. I think I just never had a good teacher, I guess."

Dan smiled a bit sheepishly, his cheeks a burnt red and his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "Well, it helps to have a student that's so quick to learn."

"Thanks," Phil replied, embarrassed but proud at the fact that Dan held him in high regard. He only hoped that he wouldn't disappoint the brunette further down the road. "But yeah, let's get to other stuff."

Dan smiled warmly in return. "Yeah, let's."

The rest of the day passed quickly, with Dan telling Phil what needed to be done and Phil eagerly obeying, feeling energized from the lesson. Honestly, there wasn't really much to be done around the place, but Dan kept on finding small tasks for Phil to do, and Phil liked being around Dan so much that he didn't mind a bit. At closing, Phil and Dan (and Pirate) said their farewells somewhat reluctantly, and Phil journeyed home to his quiet, somehow lonely house. He dreamed that night of hazel eyes and feverish touches.

OoO