Summary: Dan had a random thought. It'd be really cool if there were any telepaths in this room. Cough if anyone can hear this. Dan nearly had a heart attack as someone coughed. His head shot up. Who did that?
Word count: 3000
Note: found this prompt on Phanfic a while back. It's been sitting in my prompts folder for a while just begging to be written, but I only just now got the inspiration. Enjoy, Anon. I hope this is close to what you wanted.
Another Note: Gosh this is almost entirely dialogue (is it dialogue when it's not spoken? I guess so) I'm sorry but I really like it the way it is so enjoy.
Dan smirked as he turned in his copy of the test packet and sat back down in his seat, making sure to put a little jaunt in his step. Of course he would finish first. He always had. Bad boy or no, Dan was smart. Smart enough to know that being a punk with a devil-may-care attitude wouldn't score him any brownie points when applying for a college or a job. And also smart enough to memorize the information first time through.
He plopped back into his hard plastic chair and drummed his fingers on the desk obnoxiously. Sure, a devil-may-care attitude wouldn't help him later, but it certainly wasn't hurting him now, at least in this respect. He saw the person next to him bite the inside of their cheek to keep from saying anything, as talking was forbidden in the exam.
Unfortunately, being smart and a quick worker also meant that Dan would have to sit for the next hour in silence. He sighed, and when the teacher proctoring the exam gave him the stink-eye he blew his fringe out of his face dramatically, returning the glare.
For the next forty-five minutes, Dan dicked around on a piece of scrap paper, drawing band logos and writing random names. It wasn't the most stimulating or interesting distraction, but it kept his hands busy. Eventually, his pencil snapped.
Dan swore in his head but managed to catch himself before the word made it past his lips. Now he had nothing to do except for stare at the clock or make origami. Playing with his earring was not an option; he'd learned that one the hard way.
Dan chose the second thing and folded his paper into a swan. Great. Now he really had nothing to do except for stare at the clock.
After a few minutes, Dan had a random thought. It'd be really cool if there were any telepaths in this room. Cough if anyone can hear this.
Dan nearly had a heart attack as someone coughed. His head shot up. Who did that?
Me.
Oh, great, so the telepath's a smart-ass, Dan groaned mentally. Who are you?
Please don't swear. I don't like it.
Then get the fuck out of my head.
The voice was silent. Dan felt a strange sort of disappointment. He'd expected more from the smart-ass telepath. Wait. What's your name?
I'm not telling you until you promise not to swear.
The fuck I won't swear in my own head! Dan mentally shouted, and someone cringed. It was the guy one row over and two seats ahead. The weird one with glasses and hair the blackest black ever, even though everyone knew he was a ginger because of his eyebrows. Dan's only academic rival. Phil Lester.
Yes, it is I. Phil Lester, the evil telepath who uses people's minds against them.
Wait, really?
No.
Dan didn't have time to think a reply before the bell went off, jarring him out of his mind. He packed up his stuff and attempted to follow Lester, but he was gone.
The next day, Dan's heart skipped a beat as Lester was in this exam, too. Great, another two hours of mental smart-assing.
"Nice to see you too, Howell." Dan spun around. Lester was behind him, his hand doing something that looked painful as it hung backwards out of his jeans pocket.
Dan gaped, but before he could speak the teacher started the exam, reminding everyone that talking would result in a zero. Dan tried his hardest to concentrate, but he couldn't. That might've been thanks to a certain telepath interjecting every so often.
Alright, and when I add the two it gives me 137. Wait. Fuck, that's not an answer choice.
Don't swear, please.
Get the fuck out then.
I can't. It's a proximity thing. You're close to me, and once I tune into someone's head I can't tune out until they force me out or I lose my concentration.
How do I get you out?
I have no idea.
Fuck. Dan groaned, ignoring the teacher's looks, and flopped his head down on his desk. So you're going to be in my head for a while.
Looks like it.
Every time we come near each other?
Most likely.
Fuuuuuuck.
Try and concentrate on the exam. Block me out. Focus really hard on these stupid math problems.
Hey, math is important, you know.
But you hate it.
Well, yeah - how did you know that?
I'm inside your head, remember?
So you can hear anything I think?
Yep.
What about past memories?
Only through physical contact, mostly.
Good. I had a pretty crap childhood, and I'd prefer you'd stay out of that.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the exam. Dan looked at his paper. He'd only done half of the problems on the sheet.
He swore under his breath and shoved the packet in his teacher's hands before chasing Lester out the door. He just managed to grab onto his backpack. Lester spun around. "What?"
"You don't think I'm just going to let you in my head any time you want." It wasn't a question.
"No. But it's less of a 'let me' and more of a 'I can't control which mind I read and once I start I can't stop.'" Other students swirled around the pair, traffic parting naturally for Bad Boy Howell.
"Well," Dan groaned, "You cost me that exam. So say sorry, at the very least."
"Sorry," Lester repeated, amused by the idea. "Say sorry, like we're in Year One? It's just a weird thing to demand." He collected himself. "I am sorry for messing with your head during your maths exam and causing you to fail."
Dan huffed. "Fine. Now, come with me." He grabbed Lester's sleeve.
"Where are we going?"
"If you're going to be in my head, I want to know you better."
Dan pulled Phil (he may as well call him that, they were going to get pretty familiar, like it or not) out the school doors and down the street to Lester's house. He only let go of his sleeve when he was standing on the porch of his home. "Well, here we are."
"Why are we at my house? And how did you know where I live?"
I see you walk every day, dipshit. And I want to see your room.
No way. It's messy.
And my mind isn't? Besides, a mind is a little bit like a room. And since there's no way for me to see your mind, I'm gonna see your room. There's no way for me to see your mind, right?
Well …
There is?
No. There isn't, sorry.
Alright. Let us inside.
Phil did as he was told and unlocked the door. He climbed the stairs to his room and plopped down on his green-and-blue checkered bed. "Well, this is it."
Dan took a moment to survey the walls. An odd poster here and there, a few trophies, a drawing or two. Nothing extraordinary. And then he looked up.
The ceiling was covered with posters of all sorts, from movies to bands to concerts. Dan spotted Fall Out Boy, James Bond, and Muse, just to name a few. Dan staggered back a step, overwhelmed.
"Great, isn't it?" He whipped around.
"Yeah, it's fantastic. I would never go to sleep at night if I had that ceiling. I'd constantly be staring at Matt Bellamy's face."
"Yeah, he's pretty hot. I don't know how I manage to sleep at all, really," Phil bantered, amused by the whole thing.
Okay, his room is seriously impressive.
Thank you.
Did I say you could come in my head?
No, but I did anyways. Remember, I can't choose? And also, you said you wanted to see my room. Here it is.
Dan plopped down on the bed next to Phil. "So, this is your room. I have to admit, it's much cooler than I was imagining."
"How did you imagine it?"
"I dunno, covered in math posters or old dead guys' faces, or something to that effect." Dan shrugged, and Phil stifled a grin. "What?"
"I'm sorry, but old dead guys?"
Don't you fucking laugh at me.
What have I told you about swearing?
You seriously think you get to boss me about in my OWN HEAD?
There's no need to shout.
"This has gone from cool to annoying very fast, I hope you understand," Dan groaned, flopping back onto the bed.
"Of course I know. I heard you think it."
"Smart-ass."
"Dumb-ass."
"Hey!" Dan punched Phil in the shoulder. "Don't call me a fucking dumb-ass."
"Or what?"
"Or I'll punch your lights out."
Phil really did laugh this time. "Oh come on, you know you love me."
Dan fumed. "I'd sell you to Satan for one corn chip."
I bet you think I'm really impressed by that, but I saw it on Tumblr.
Oh yeah? On what blog?
danisnotonfire.
That's MY blog.
No way.
Yes way.
Dang.
Ha! I've finally got something on you! You follow my tumblr blog!
Not anymore. First chance I get I'm unfollowing.
Rude.
Dan and Phil were jerked out of their telepathic conversation by a knock on Phil's door. "Philip?" a female voice called from the outside. "Do you have someone over?"
"Yeah, mom. It's Dan."
"I don't know Dan."
"No, you don't," Phil agreed.
"Can I meet Dan?"
"Sure," Phil hopped off of his bed and opened the door. "Mom, this is Dan."
The first thing Dan noticed about Mrs. Lester was that she was young. Like, only mid-thirties or so. And very pretty. He shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lester."
"It's Miss, and the pleasure is mine." She swept her ginger hair out of her eyes. So that's where Phil got it from. "But please, call me Martha. You boys want anything? Food, water?"
"Nah, mom. I think we're fine. We're just studying for tomorrow's exam," Phil explained, slowly pushing her out of the room. "See you later." The door closed with a click. "Sorry about her. She likes to meet my friends."
"She's young," Dan noted.
Phil glared at him. "Don't get any ideas. Under no circumstances are you fucking my mom."
Dan doubled over in laughter. "Not what I was getting at," he wheezed, "But god, that was funny."
Phil sat back on his bed, back leaning on the wall. "Come. Sit." He patted the space next to him. "There's got to be more to me that you wish you knew."
"Actually, yeah, there is." Dan paused, thinking of a good question to start with. "How long have you been telepathic?"
"Ever since I was born. I didn't realize it though until I found out that there was a difference between speaking and thinking. I hear them all the same."
Must be rough.
Yeah, it is.
Why am I not surprised that you're in my head?
Because you know by now that if I'm close to someone there's a very good chance I'm in their head.
So, what do you do in your free time?
I run a Youtube channel. AmazingPhil. Have you ever heard of it?
I think in passing. I'm pretty sure I'm not subscribed.
You should.
Wow, shameless self-promo.
I just think you'd like the content. We're more alike that you'd like to admit.
I never will, at least out loud.
In your head is all I need.
Fuck you.
Come on, you know you love me.
No.
Yes. I'm cute, smart, funny, have great taste in music, and I'm absolutely fantastic at -
"I'm going to the bathroom," Dan announced suddenly, and hopped off of the bed. He rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind him before leaning up against it. He had to get out of that room for a second. He had a problem. A very, very serious problem.
Every word Phil had described himself as was true.
And it was really hard not to kiss him right there.
Eventually, Dan went back into Phil's bedroom, after flushing the toilet once to make it seem realistic.
"You were gone for a long time," Phil noted.
"Buzz off."
"Sorry, just an observation." Phil patted his bed again. "Any more questions about telepathy?"
"Not really," Dan lied, not trusting himself to speak.
Oh come on. I know you have thousands. They always do.
I don't want to ask any of them.
Why not? They're never as awkward as you think they are. Especially since I can hear what you really mean, even if English doesn't do a very good job describing what you want to know.
I just don't want to talk right now.
Tired?
Something like that. Dan closed his eyes and leaned back, falling into a light doze almost immediately. Finals were so draining he could sleep just about anywhere. And while he dozed, he dreamed about a certain pair of blue eyes.
A few minutes later, he was awoken by Phil poking him repeatedly in the shoulder. "Dan?"
"What?"
"I feel like I should tell you that it's ten times easier to read someone's mind when they're sleeping."
Fuck. "So you saw my dreams, then?"
"You were only out for about five minutes, but yes. I saw it all."
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Dan demanded, a bit outraged.
"At first you weren't dreaming at all, so I let you sleep. But as soon as you started to, I did. This is me waking you up," Phil explained, perfectly logical (to the point of being infuriating) as always.
"So, what did I dream about?"
Phil gulped, blushing heavily. "Me."
Dan flushed twice as much as Phil. "Did I?"
"Yeah."
"What about you?"
"You wanted to - to kiss me," Phil said, voice small.
"Did I?" Dan repeated, the dream coming back to him.
"Yeah."
"Oh."
There was an awkward silence, before Phil broke it. "Dan?" he began tentatively, "You know how I said there was no way for you to see inside my mind?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, there is."
"How?
"You'd have to kiss me."
"Oh." Fuck, I really, really want to kiss you. And not just to read your mind.
"What's stopping you?" Dan looked up at Phil, who was positively scarlet.
"You're not?"
"Nope."
"Well, I'm not stopping me, either." Dan drew out the words.
"Then, I guess nothing's stopping you."
"I guess not." Dan leaned in and kissed Phil chastely on the lips, pulling away after a second.
Holy shit, I just kissed Phil.
Holy shit, I got kissed by Dan. And it was great.
Smiling at Phil's thoughts, Dan leaned back in, so close that their foreheads were touching. "Was it really?"
Yeah. You're pretty great at kissing.
You're not bad yourself, Lester.
Thanks. And stop calling me Lester. We just kissed, I'm pretty sure you should call me Phil.
Okay, Phil.
Much better. This time, it was Phil who instigated the kiss. Concentrate on me, Dan. Concentrate.
It's … hard … because … kissing …
Yeah, but you have to try if you want to see inside my head.
Maybe I don't. Maybe I just want to kiss you.
Dan. I want you to read my mind. I think you'll find something you'll like in there.
Dan gathered all his concentration and, very slowly, Phil's thoughts started to form words for him to read. Dan, will you be my boyfriend?
Yes. Yes, I will. Dan pulled out of Phil's head so he could redouble his kissing efforts. Eventually, when his lungs were bursting, he pulled away. "Yes, Phil. I'd love to be your boyfriend."
Your earring is really hot, by the way.
Oh, really?
Yeah. The whole 'bad-boy Howell' thing is turning me on right about now.
Well, the 'hot nerd with glasses' thing is working for me. You look like a college professor, and I'm the failing student.
What?
Don't tell me you haven't heard of teacher-student roleplay.
Dan, if you don't stop thinking like that, I'm going to get a hard-on.
"Why is that a bad thing?" Dan whispered sultrily.
"I guess," Phil smirked, "That it's really not."
Oh Mr. Lester, I think I'm failing your class.
Not right now. My mom is home.
Fuck your mom.
Dan!
No, really. I'm so horny I could fuck your mom right now.
Do not think about fucking my mom, please.
You swore! Gasp!
Yeah, I did.
You know, I think that's even hotter than the professor thing. You swearing.
Dan.
Phil.
Please stop.
No way.
You suck.
Yes please.
Dan!
What?
No more dirty talking.
Isn't it technically dirty thinking?
Phil suddenly got a very sexual picture of him and Dan doing the do. Could you not fantasize about us right now? I'm still reading your mind.
Why my dear Philip, that's exactly when it's the most fun.
You're the worst.
You love me, though.
Yeah, I do, my little bad-boy.
My little telepathic nerd.
We're the weirdest couple ever.
Weird is good. Normalness leads to sadness.
So you DO watch my videos!
Fuck. Yes, I do.
Love you, Dan.
Love you too, nerd.
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