A/N: So. Many. Awesome. Comments. Mind. Blown. You. Guys. Rock!
More. So. Than. Peeta.
See. What. I. Did. There?
Nope? I'll. Just. Go. Crawl. Back. To. My. Internet. Lair.
Wow, that writing is messing up with my mind. Baa. Nope I feel completely normal.
Oh now I remember what I wanted to say.
I think some of you will be wanting what a lot of people call smut or as I call it, that kind of shenanigan, which I have no problem and will have an attempt at writing at, or as close to as possible but I do warn you.
I'm highly immature.
I'm not even kidding.
So if I add things like,
And then Phil leant over reaching for Dan's badonkadonk whilst a rush of electricity rushed through his own badonkadonk. Dan didn't realise that conkers with Phil would provide so much cake.
"Dan, I think about to dance!"
"Oh yes Phil, you know how to bake that flapjack,"
I shouldn't even attempt this *facepalm*
But hey, a big thanks to PartingUnicorn and I_Love_Eat_Randy for pretty much being my muse. A statue shalt be build. Made from glitter of unicorns. And all that jazz.
Phil's POV
My parents had not spoken more than a few sentences to me after what I now refer it to as the incident. Even then these were little more than 'Pass the salt, boy' and 'Move out of the way'. Should I be grateful that I'm still in the house? That they haven't kicked me out and left me on the streets?
However I was grateful to the surprise they left me with. Some relative of mine, close to my Mother, had broken her ankle enough so that she needed help. Being the old cat lady that she is she only had Mother who would come to help her potter around for the next few days so my parents had left an hour ago, my father grumbling and moodily slamming his way around the house obviously unpleased to being tortured by photographs of previous cats and shepherd's pie for the next few days.
Once I could hear the tell tale sounds of the car reversing aggressively of the gravel drive and the car speeding off I leant against the wall sighing with relief as I slid down onto the floor. They were gone. For at least three days I could do as I please with my fathers constant need for perfection around the house.
Ever since I can remember he had been working, and struggling, hard to rise in the world of politicians and although he was successfully moving along the ladder it was too slow for him. He wanted us to be perfect. Imagine a stereotypically perfect American family in the 1950's. The obedient, pretty wife and homemaker, holding out a martini to welcome her hard-working husband home whilst his perfect son, handsome and intelligent was working hard somewhere in the perfect house. That is how we are supposed to be. My mother succeeds and he clearly loves her whereas I don't.
He turns almost mad sometimes. If we don't take our shoes off soon enough once we're in the house, he goes mad. If my grades aren't as perfect as he would like them to be, he goes mad. I always thought that it might be linked with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder; only in this case he was obsessed with us being perfect.
And do you know what the funniest part is? I've never really made him proud of me. It's hard to believe that we're related really. He nearly choked on his coffee when I once, out of sheer randomness, told him about my dream of working on screen one morning. For some reason after watching quite a lot of stars on YouTube I was curious on my own behalf, I wanted to make him proud of me. So I began to tell him about these plans I had. How, like him, I would work hard and effectively on a careers ladder and become big on YouTube like I always wanted to be. He wasn't impressed, after all those trousers had cost him a lot of money to pay for at the dry cleaners for the removal of all the coffee he had spat out at my revelation. On that day his small slip of respect for me died as well as my dreams of working on YouTube.
Dan had never told me about his parents so I don't know how they'll react to us. That's if Dan ever tells them. I wouldn't blame him if he didn't after how my parents reacted. But I bet his parents aren't as homophobic as mine.
It's not like they're homophobic in fairness. I guess he just feels that if my 'humiliating secret' came out then it would sabotage his polls on the vote. He needs us to look good if he wants to do well. But I honestly do not know why I'm sticking up for him. Maybe it's because he is my father and somewhere deep down there's a paternal bond that still exists, somewhere...
That, that made me laugh. A lot. It's ridiculous but hey, never say never.
I didn't do much after that. I was desperately waiting for Dan to come over. I had texted him loads so when the clock slowly passed by the time where our break finished, I was puzzled. If he did anything reckless then it would be my entire fault for getting expelled in the first place. But finally he replied, a frank and quite unrevealing text simply to tell me he would be over straight away, which made me feel gleeful.
So like any other teenager boy I leapt straight into the shower singing High School Musical. Afterwards I jumped back out and spent a while hopping around trying to pull my favourite skinny jeans on. Then, for an even longer while, I started to straighten my hair before pulling a lot of weird faces in the mirror. How do you say complete in French? I feel like that would accomplish the styling montage but then I never took any of my lessons in, especially in languages.
"Transformation complete!' I smiled, looking at myself in the mirror.
And like fairy magic there was a knock at my window. Grinning madly I turned around to see Dan outside my window for the third time.
"Doors are for pussies," He explained smirking as I let him in.
Shaking my head I stayed smiling as he began to dust himself down, "I can see that. When did you have time to change?"
He turned, tapping his nose, "If I tell you I may have to annihilate you."
I pretended to quiver in mock fear, "Well, I'm glad you are here because..." I paused knowing this would annoy him; he began to impatiently wave his hands for me to continue, "Because we, my good sir, will be making pancakes."
His face brightened like a little kids.
"You do realise how inept I am in the kitchen right, Phil? If I even touch a toaster then it goes boom!" He acted out the explosion, "And then the entire house turns into a mushroom cloud."
"Honestly, how hard can it be, Dan?"
It turns out very. The mixture before the last was so thick we decided it had to be quickly destroyed before it took out the world with its gloopy ways. Then we had to actually turn it solid which proved... interesting. Rest in peace dear frying pan that I hope wasn't a national treasure to my parents. They're not really into cooking anyway. But still, after forty minutes of many failed attempts, and constant hysterical laughing, we gave up.
Instead we retreated into the large living room taking as many blankets and food as we could, trying to ignore the previous painful thoughts regarding pancakes.
"I know!" Dan said out of the blue dropping all the cookies from his arms onto the floor, "Let's build a den!"
Which is pretty much why we're currently sitting under the crappest den in the universe of crap dens whilst Dan, beside me, is sitting like a King with a pillow as a crown and a spare blanket as his cloak.
"Hey Phil, bow down to my awesome powers," He laughed.
"Never!" I cried.
"Then prepare for death!" He responded beginning to wildly tiggle me as I collapsed into a mad, hysterical heap under me.
"Stop, stop!" I begged but he ignored me and continued straddling me as he discovered all my ticklish spots whilst I giggled helplessly under him.
He stopped and bent over until his face was inches from mine, still sat (comfortably) on top of me, "I am your mighty King! And you are mine! So bow to your King or prepare for more treason!"
"That's kind of hard since you're sat on me," I pointed out. He looked thoughtful.
"Fine, kiss me then,"
"Make me," I grinned.
He pushed my arms back above my head so I was unable to push him away and began to kiss me as I responded eagerly. His kiss deepened further than anything we had shared before until it was borderline exciting.
"Damn it, Phil. I want you," He whispered with frustration between frantic kisses.
"You have me," I whispered.
He laughed, "I mean what I say, Phil. I mean in that kind of way,"
"I never said I meant anything different, Dan," I replied, and with a pause he looked down at me with a look of rushed anticipation and began to resume kissing me in a rough and passionate manner.
I pushed my hands from his grip and began to run them around him before slowly starting to push my hands up his top. His lips trailed off mine and began to travel further before he was kissing my neck as I rolled around under him and his touch.
A/N: RIGHT. I'M STOPPING THERE.
I AM CRINGING SO MUCH.
SEE! I PROMISED IT WOULD BE TERRIBLE XD
So I'm sorry you had to witness that terrible bit of writing but I was kind of rushed to upload this as well as everything else.
You all deserve some pie for that. Yes, some pie. I'll add a photo of pie for you all.
Nom. Pie.
I'm going to go and cringe further but hey, thanks for reading.
And I think I forgot to add this last time. WHICH IS TREASON!
(_ ) (_)
Nope, no Dan trying to tiggle me:(
CIAO FOR NOW!