A/N: Dear world. If you are reading this, then I have come to my final breaking point. I am dead. **dies**
Nahh, but in all seriousness... Ew Dx I just wrote a SaraXPhil fic. I'm unsure how I feel about that. Have satisfied, since I think it came out relatively alright, and half feeling as though I betrayed myself for writing with a character named Sara that doesn't have an "h" at the end of her name. It's double-sided, bittersweet... I DIGRESS.
This is for Suprsingr, who own these guys' souls. Respect... Srsly. THIS IS THE FIRST OF A FEW REQUESTS. IF YOU WANT TO REQUEST SOMETHING, THEN REVIEW! I like that shiz.
Sara was amazing, Phil begrudgingly had to admit that. She was nonconforming, smart, had some kickass come-backs, and was confident. But sometimes she might be a bit too confident. Don't get Phil wrong, Sara could do anything she put her mind to. Whether it's sing, dance, or sell chocolate turtles in her younger years, anything Sara wanted to accomplish, she could. But dear god, you should never let that woman near a kitchen.
You see, Sara thought she was a good chef. And most of the time, she was. The meat was always tender, the vegetables thoroughly cooked, and as far as Phil knew, nobody had ever died from tasting one of her concoctions. What went wrong with Sara is that she didn't know this little thing called moderation.
Everything was always too spicy or salty or whatever the hell Sara decided to poison it with that time. Just like his tea. If he could even call it that, really. Phil Shortman tilted his head back as he chugged the last bit of the drink that was basically liquefied sugar and then slammed down the cup.
Sara's eyes strayed up from the book she was reading and blinked at him twice. With out saying a word, her nimble hand lashed out and grasped a napkin, tossing it at Phillip's face, smacking him between the eyes. The Shortman hissed out a surprised grunt and sent the girl a scowl to which she only smiled lightly back. "Fix your tea-stache."
Phil roughly grabbed at the offending napkin and swiped it across his mouth a couple of times, just to appease her. Whatever.
The green-eyed young man felt his stomach rise up and crash back down in a mock tsunami, and Phil actually ended up gagging. The overabundance of sugar and honey and lemon mixed painfully together. He let out a moan that was filled with pain and glared accusingly at his wretched fiancée.
Sara just stared at him with annoyance mixed with amusement and slid the bookmark into place. "Great Expectations can wait." With a grand flourish, the girl stood up, and smoothed out her dress. It was a nice dark purple color that reached only to her knees and flared out from the waist. The top was sleeveless and had three buttons down the bosom. It was all accompanied with a yellow flower belt, a lemon lacey cover-top and just-barely-knee-high highlighter yellow striped socks. She had to dress up today and since it was barely 8:30 in the morning, she didn't want her outfit to get spoiled for the day. At arms length, she helped Phil up and hurried him to the bathroom as he nearly puked all over the floor, as per usual whenever he drank her tea.
"Sweetie?" Sara hesitantly asked, and she heard a momentary groan in response as her beloved continued to hack in the toilet. She winced at the sound, and continued, "Maybe I can make you some soup. Soup's good for the stomach. I can add in some nice thyme, and maybe some pepper. Oo! Wouldn't you just love it if it was sprinkled with—" All sounds from then on were overruled by Philip's vomiting.
Sara just sighed and continued to stroke his hair.