A/N
Just a quick note to say that the age gap is shorter so the story makes sense, and this is written using the British school system, as I come from and this is set in England. For my American readers, Dan is a Freshman and Phil is a , on with the story,_thebookblogger_/ Cate xox
Agent Howell and Agent Lester
(3154 words)
Dan grumbled as he stepped out of his and Phil's silver metallic SUV, both teens entering the decrepit hell that was Barrow High School.
One thing was certain. He hated this case. And it had only been a month.
He and Phil were currently undercover in a high school, juggling preventing a potential bomb from blowing up said high school whilst also taking out a local gang, who were growing more volatile by the second.
Thank God the agency at least had someone else do their homework for them, and send it through to them - because this was certainly not some Ruby Redfort or Nancy Drew book where said heroine manages to be an agent or investigator and somehow manage to keep up and on top of tests and homework for school.
Their jobs were hard and time consuming. There was no time for the homework they would never need.
Dan's cover - undoubtedly the worst he'd ever been stuck with, at least in his opinion - was a Year 10 pastel obsessed teen.
Phil was the lucky one, at least he still got to wear black, Dan's favourite colour. Ironically, Phil's cover, much to his dismay, was a mix between an emo and a punk, that held no trace of the bright and happy colours he usually wore whenever he could that just screamed to anyone in the room 'Pow, zazz, I'm Phil!'
Still, even though he wouldn't admit it, Dan didn't mind the pastel all that much, it made him feel slightly more innocent than, in reality, he knew he was. Made him feel like he'd never shot a gun, never killed - however evil - another human being. And maybe he liked his pastel pink attire, because it was the way Phil often made him feel.
They always got to Barrow High early, so nobody saw their ridiculously expensive car, that clearly no Sixth Former plus an - underage - Year 10 student could afford to pay for, even when splitting the cost. They also got there early so they could gain more information for their assignment more easily, and so no one would see the two secret agent's coming to school together.
They didn't like people knowing they were dating. Always being in hostile situations gave them trust issues, making both Dan and Phil wary of most people, and letting people know who each boy loved most on this entire planet was a bad idea - it was a weakness easily exploited by their enemies. And naturally neither wanted each other in even more life threatening danger than usual.
In fact, it was probably the worst thing that could possibly happen during a mission, because - when it came down to it - both Dan and Phil would obviously go along with their opponent's wishes rather than complete the mission if it meant saving the other's life, should the other be captured.
Dan would let the entire planet burn if it meant saving Phil from the clutches of death, and Phil would - and had previously much to Dan's horror - step between Dan and a gun or a weapon without even thinking about it.
The day was dragging on excruciatingly slowly, and when Dan looked up at the clock in the science lab, he couldn't believe he had only been sitting there for less that 45 minutes. At this point, by the time break comes it's going to feel like a decade had passed him by.
Phil, being in Sixth Form, had free periods where he could 'study' or leave. He was the lucky one who wasn't getting subjected to this unasked for sleeping pill, and could actually do more for their assignment.
When break finally came, Dan took off, muscles aching from not standing up for an hour and a half, towards a largely forgotten corner of the school stopping when he reached the wall were he and Phil usually met.
Surprisingly, Phil - usually the earlier of the two - wasn't waiting for him, and so Dan yanked his 'illegal phone' (according to the school when they caught the students on it in school hours) from his pocket and pulled up Phil's contact to text him.
To: AgentAmazing
Where are you?
Dan waited for a moment before receiving an, albeit quite short (for Phil at least), reply.
From: AgentAmazing
Listening to the what's going on in the office from the medical room.
And then...
The school just received a message about the bombers.
They're putting us in lockdown. Be ready x
Sure enough, when he reached his maths classroom, their teacher - who looked rather frazzled - hushed the deafening gaggle of chatting teens waiting outside the door and ushered them all in swiftly.
A notice from the school office suddenly flashed across the interactive whiteboard and the computer monitor.
LOCKDOWN PROCEDURE. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
(RECEIVED AT 11:20)
Most students gasped in horror, whisper shouting questions to each other and the teacher, Mrs. Ferguson, who explained that she didn't know what was wrong but we needed to be registered and get to the safe corner of the room, and block all the windows out. It was just their luck, that this specific classroom door didn't have a lock on it.
Some students were happy to get out of doing maths, seemingly not comprehending that this was not a drill, and that they were in very serious danger.
A few teens with sense - who understood the gravity of the situation - just did what they could to help, snatching up spare coloured and plain paper and sticking them over the windows in the door, others pulling down the blinds hurriedly.
Dan would never understand the usefulness of the lockdown procedure, at least the covering windows and door part - they were just making it blatantly obvious to whoever caused the lockdown to occur which classrooms were occupied and which were not.
It was literally increasing their chance of death, rather than decreasing it. The whole thing just defeated its purpose.
The teacher rushed through the register, frantically shushing the students, and ordering them all to turn off their phones immediately.
Dan was the only one, as far as he could tell, who didn't do as he was told. But then again, he had a pretty good excuse as to why.
Though it's not like Mrs. Ferguson would know that... Yet.
Dan was in the outermost part of the huddle of teens and a teacher all sitting on the dusty midnight blue floor, squished uncomfortably into the corner. This was a good advantage - he could prepare himself to do his job.
Ignoring the confused stares and raised eyebrows of his classmates and teacher, he gripped firmly onto the straps of his rucksack, dragging it along the floor and towards him as quietly as possible.
Unzipping it gently, he proceeded to tip the contents onto the floor - carefully as to not make a racket and alert the bombers - who could be anywhere - as to where he was.
Reaching into the bag, he pulled a pocket knife from his sleeve, earning a few gasps, and tore the lining of the bag's false bottom, pulling out his gun, extra bullets and and an assortments of sheathed knives and daggers from within the deformed material.
Mrs. Ferguson looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an extremely large truck, but still seemed like she was about to interrupt what Dan was doing when the sound of the door at the end of the hall creaking open and light footfalls heading their way travelled down the hallway and into the classroom of (at this point) near petrified students - all of whom looked like they wanted to just disapparate from the room right there and then.
Dan on the other hand sprung into action, ducking behind one of the desks, taking the safety off and aiming his gun towards the (still unopened) door, ready to shoot whoever was on the other side of the slowly opening door...
That was, until he spotted the familiar face that appeared through the crack between the half open door and the slowly peeling, white painted door frame.
Dan lowered his gun immediately.
"Phil!" he exclaimed in a hushed tone, as the black haired boy slipped through the classroom door and made his way towards him, "What are you doing in here?"
"I had a free period. Besides, on the way I saw the bombers coming towards this building. We need to get them all out of here."
They turned around to the face gobsmacked students, whose eyes were darting in utter surprise between the 'punk' and the 'pastel' boy with a gun still clutched tightly in his left hand.
Dan and Phil shared a look. They definitely had some explaining to do.
"This is Agent Lester. I'm Agent Howell." he told the class shortly, both he and Phil taking out their travel wallets and pulling their ID cards out from behind their fake bus passes to show to a very bewildered Mrs. Ferguson - before she began shouting for help or do something idiotic, "We've been sent to take out the bomber threatening the school."
"But I don't understan-" began the rather lost maths teacher, mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tried to form an comprehensible sentence, but she was once again cut off when a heavy pair of footsteps echoed loudly from down the hallway, and this time it definitely couldn't be Phil.
Phil pulled out his own gun, both boys ducking down behind a table in front of the other students and readying their weapons.
The whitewashed walls began to shudder violently and the sounds of classroom doors being kicked open filled everyone's ears. Behind Dan and Phil, some students whimpered and cowered closer to the corner in fear.
Then a burly brute of a man appeared in the classroom doorway with a loaded gun, the ash grey door - or at least what was left of it - nearly off its hinges and propped against the classroom wall at an unnatural angle, the pane of glass in the door now mere tiny crystal-like shards littering the blue floor.
Dan and Phil both simultaneously fired before any innocents got hurt, the man - unprepared and unsuspecting resistance - dropping lifelessly to the floor with a dull thud, a small puddle of blood pooling from his chest around his body. But it wasn't over yet as about five seconds later in poured about seven more men - all of them stepping carelessly over their ally's body - also armed with guns. Behind them could be spotted a brick sized bomb, ready to be set and detonated.
Both boys were side by side guns raised, Dan managing to disarm one by shooting the gun straight out of their hand, whilst Phil immobilised another with a shot to the arm and leg. At this point there was only two men left on the opposing side, and the agency had been called by Phil on the way to Dan's class. It was two against two - and neither side was appearing to go down easily.
The advantage? The other side seemed to have run out of ammunition, spare the bomb that Dan and Phil needed to stop them detonating.
However their luck soon ran out when they too ran out of bullets for their guns, even though they still had some daggers left.
Dan had managed to get a few good jabs at his opponent, even landing a right hook at one point, until he saw a flash of black and blue fall down with a sickening thud beside him.
Dan's breath caught in his throat.
Phil.
His boyfriend had fallen down amongst the forming pile of already dead bombers, looking almost void of life, completely unconscious, breathing shallow, a small cut on his perfect face. He looked much paler than normal, if that was even possible. But that wasn't what worried Dan the most.
Despite it being black, any idiot could clearly see the dark stains of ruby red blood soaking through Phil's shirt near his heart.
Blood that hadn't been there before.
Dan looked down at his unconscious boyfriend in concern, feeling like his whole world was about to come crashing down. Phil was most likely about to die.
The man who had been fighting Dan just smiled at him manically, drawing a small handgun from the inside of his jacket, aiming it at Phil with ease. The other - who had apparently managed to knock Phil out - just kicked the unconscious boy carelessly in the leg, double checking that Phil was completely out cold, and seeming satisfied when Phil didn't move a muscle. Dan winced at the impact, yanking a dagger from his belt ready to aim at the man for kicking his - probably dying - boyfriend.
"Put it down." the man with the gun said sternly, the threatening tone clear in his voice, cruel black eyes boring into Dan's chocolate ones, "Or I'll put your little friend down."
Dan's grip on the dagger loosened when he saw the man's near eagerness to pull the trigger, and he went to drop the weapon - but then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Phil smirk, just a little. And it was then that it dawned on him what Phil was actually doing.
"No." he retorted sharply, voice suddenly void of emotion again.
The man looked away from Phil, eyes trained on Dan in the utmost confusion at the boy's sudden change of concern. And that split second gave Phil enough time to yank the man to the floor by his leg, the latter letting out a grunt of surprise when he hit the cold surface, Phil grabbing the gun from his loose grip and shooting the other man - who was attempting to make a break for it out the classroom door and towards the bomb. The man fell to the ground almost instantly, his crimson blood splattering the grey and white wall in front of him like some morbid piece of artwork.
The man underneath Phil seemed to recover from his momentary daze, and lunged straight at Phil, who had begun to pick himself up off the bloodied, dirty floor - barely missing the raven haired teen who had managed to dodge him just in time.
Dan didn't even hesitate before he flung the dagger at the man, landing it straight through his head. There was no way in hell he was getting anywhere near Phil again. The man's eyes dimmed, the life draining from them before he slumped backwards, hitting the whiteboard behind him in the process as he finally slid - dead - to the floor in a bloody fashion.
Behind the two agents there was a gasp of relief from Mrs Ferguson who had been attempting to shield the students, arms wide in front of them. Somehow they hadn't been hurt, despite being caught up in the crossfire.
And then Dan suddenly felt like he could finally breathe again, and he immediately snatched up Phil in a warm, safe hug not caring who was watching them or the fact that a whole classroom of people were currently watching them or the fact that they were completely covered in blood - just glad that he was alive and safe in his arms.
When he finally released Phil, Dan began gently checking him over for injuries. Phil let out a small laugh, and swatted Dan's hands away, "Dan, Dan, calm down. I'm fine."
"Then where did all the blood come from? You couldn't have planned that."
"No that was just luck, its from where I fell back into the dead bombers. It's their blood not mine. I'm completely fine."
"Thank God for that. I thought you were seriously hurt!"
Phil must have seen the tears that threatened to fall from his face, because the brunette was suddenly engulfed in yet another leather jacketed hug, Phil's chest rumbling slightly as he let out another small laugh, "I'm fine. And really Dan, now you're just being mean. You of all people should know I don't go down very easily." he joked, attempting to ease the tension of the moment.
Dan smiled slightly through his sheen of tears, turning to look up at the older boy.
"I know."
Dan couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard he tried.
The - although fake - near dead and lifeless look Phil had somehow managed to pull off earlier that afternoon flashed back to him whenever he closed his eyes, and it rattled the younger boy to his core.
For a split second, he had thought his boyfriend died today. He could have lost Phil today... Forever. And it had nearly scared Dan to death.
Dan's eyes began to sting slightly, and he blinked back tears, opting for getting up and making himself food since he couldn't sleep.
If he hadn't been trained as an agent, he surely would have stumbled and tripped over the small pile of filled boxes and suitcases in the hallway and smashed into the practically see-through glass door of the flat's kitchen due to the extreme lack of light.
This was their last night in the flat. The assignment was complete and they would be heading to Florida tomorrow, according to the message from the agency, for their next mission.
Dan flicked the switch, momentarily blinded as the gleaming kitchen was bathed in yellowish white light.
Opening the cupboards, he scanned what little contents they contained, deciding to make pancakes with the eggs and flour he had found.
He wasn't really hungry, he was just cooking for the sake of it, to take his mind off his own sleep deprived thoughts.
"Dan, what are you doing? It's two in the morning."
Phil had appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, clearly bedraggled, yawning and blinking blearily at him with sleep, the older boy's red pyjamas and pale skin starkly contrasting with the pitch blackness of the hallway behind him. Phil's ebony hair stuck out in all directions, his usual fringe replaced with a natural quiff, his cerulean blue eyes searching Dan's face - although sleepily - in concern.
"I couldn't sleep." he mumbled sheepishly, setting the bag of flour down on the worktop and turning to face the older boy.
"Is this about earlier?"
Dan just nodded ashamedly, "Maybe."
Phil just sighed slightly, opening his arms out to his boyfriend, who gladly accepted - before guiding the brunette out of the kitchen (flipping the light switch off as they went), back down the dark hallway and into their bedroom, and back into their now slightly cold bed - settling down comfortably and hugging Dan close.
"I thought I'd lost you." Dan mumbled, much more sleepily than before, snuggling further into Phil's chest.
Phil just hugged Dan tighter, pressing a light kiss to his forehead, "You're not going to loose me Bear. Not now, not ever."
Dan hummed against his chest in sleepy approval, and Phil felt sleepiness begin to pull him under too.
"Goodnight Dan."
"Goodnight Phil."