For Lizzy. Enjoy, my love.
word count: 1023
"Wait… Are you telling me that you were actually awake before me?" Trevor asks, blinking rapidly as though trying to decide if Philip is real or a vivid hallucination.
Philip offers him a crooked smile. "Not only that," he says, gesturing at the white bag with a grease-stained bottom on the table, "but I got breakfast."
He watches in amusement as Trevor's dark brows raise, like there's something weird and suspicious about this. To be fair, Philip has always been the one to sleep in, and Trevor tends to be the one to care for him. Maybe it's just Trevor's true age showing, despite his youthful host.
Trevor moves closer and opens the bag. A soft moan escapes his lips, and Philip tries not to laugh. He's never seen anyone get so excited about food, and the novelty of a good meal never seems to wear off, no matter how many times Trevor sits down to eat. Even new Travelers, fresh out of a future where the closest thing to a good meal is something that's halfway edible and prevents starvation, can't rival Trevor's vigor.
"Oh, man." Trevor carefully dumps out the neatly-wrapped contents, licking his lips. "You know, I think it's interesting that a food can be adapted to be eaten at any time of the day. The twenty-first was truly a time of clever engineering."
Philip snorts and reaches out, snatching a breakfast burrito from the pile and unwrapping it. "You gonna eat, old man?" he teases, pulling back the tortilla and smothering the contents with picante sauce. "Or would you rather wax poetic about food all day?"
As if accepting a challenge, Trevor grabs a burrito and tosses the wrapper aside before taking a big bite. "I can do both," he says as he chews. "Now, are you going to tell me what this is about? You only bring me food to cheer me up."
"Hurry up and eat. We've got things to do."
Trevor's expression changes. His dark eyes widen ever so slightly, and he lifts his hand to the side of his feet, fingertips just barely avoiding his com. "A mission?" he asks. "Did I miss Mac's order?"
"Protocol Five." Philip finishes his burrito in a quick bite. He considers helping himself to another, but he doesn't want to spoil his appetite. Today is going to be a big day.
Trevor shrugs at that before offering Philip a mock salute. "Whatever you say."
…
Philip still remembers his first time visiting the beach. It had felt like a dream to see sand so white and water so perfect and blue. Some days, he still wonders when he's going to wake up and find himself back in his bunker, barely clinging to life.
"Did you ever think we would actually see this?" Philip asks, pulling off his shoes and socks and discarding them.
Of course, Trevor is older than anyone on the team. How many times has he gotten to see glimpses of a world that hasn't collapsed? And yet, he always looks so grateful, like even the smallest things are the greatest miracles.
"Amazing, I know," Trevor agrees, kicking his shoes off as well.
Philip breathes in the salty air and digs his bare toes into the ground. This is his life now. It's strange and impossible and full of so much wonder, and it is his.
He bites the inside of his cheek.
"You okay?" Trevor asks.
Philip nods, reaching back and scrubbing his palm over his neck. "I'm fine," he says.
Trevor's eyes narrow ever so slightly. "You sure about that?"
Philip opens his mouth, half-tempted to answer truthfully, but he stops himself. It isn't the time or place. He just grins before turning on his heel and dashing through the sand. "Last one in the water has to clean the fridge!" he calls.
"That's cheating!"
…
They're still soaked, and their wet clothes cling uncomfortably to their skin as they walk. No restaurant will let them in, but Philip finds an ice cream vendor who is happy to sell them two cones.
"Not that I don't appreciate a little quality bonding time," Trevor says, pausing to lick at the the chocolate vanilla swirl, "but what's up? We've had plenty of Protocol Five types of days, and you've never wanted to do anything like this."
Philip frowns. At first, he doesn't answer. He keeps his eyes fixed on the horizon, walking slowly and contemplating as he enjoys his strawberry ice cream. "The Director sent me into a broken body," he says, shaking his head.
He had spent so much time angry and silently cursing the Director, but there is nothing hostile in his words now. It's a statement, a fact. It's just like commenting that the sky is blue.
"It… I dunno. It kept me from really enjoying what I was experiencing."
Philip had wanted to, of course. After coming straight from the hell hole of a future, how could he not want to explore and enjoy and celebrate? Instead, he had been afflicted. Withdrawal had been miserable, and he had been too weak. It had consumed him and kept him from seeing how beautiful the world truly is.
All he had cared about was heroin and finding his next hit.
But all that is gone now. It had been a bitch, but he is finally free. He isn't dope-sick. His mind isn't clouded by that constant haze, and his veins aren't flooded with poison.
"I've been clean for a whole month now," he says proudly, turning to grin at Trevor.
"Look at you," Trevor says, moving closer and capturing Philip in a tight hug that ends with a pat on the back. "I'm proud of you, man."
Philip pulls away, still grinning. The future is still in trouble, but, right now, it's so far away. All Philip wants to do is focus on the here and now and be happy that he is alive and here to enjoy such a beautiful day.
"Last one to the bus stop has to clean the bathroom," he says, sprinting forward.
For now, in this moment, everything is okay.