A/N: Well, I know I haven't been updating...my fault. For having writer's block and spending long frustrating hours trying to make something FUNNY. Grr. Anyway! Hope you're enjoying this Philippe phic as much as I am...do read on...

"Is he going to be ok?"

"Well, I should think if the first thing he sees is you standing over him, he'll have a heart attack or possibly a stroke. It's your fault: you shouldn't have knocked all those candles down."

"It was the chocolates! The ones that you gave me!"

"The ones that NADIR gave me!"

"Oh no, Erik, don't you drag me into this! You wanted me to make them!"

"Well, I didn't know what sort of bloody ingredients you were going to put in, now did I?"

"Hush, all of you. I think he's coming around."

Philippe slowly opened his eyes, the babble of voices becoming clear. He saw Christine and Raoul leaning over him with concerned looks on their faces, Nadir at the side. Erik was standing away, distant, arms folded, scowling at Raoul. The Count felt dampness as his brow was mopped and his vision became less wobbly. A quick glance from his blue eyes told him he was NOT back at home and he sat up with a cry that brought back aching pain: he slid back down, eyes shut, hoping it was all a dream.

Of course, it wasn't.

He was in an unfamiliar bedroom on an unfamiliar bed, and as recent events flooded sickeningly into his head, realisation overcame him and he groaned loudly. Philippe clasped his face. "Raoul...teddy- bear...chocolates...phantom...chandelier...nooo!" The Count grimaced. Since he rarely showed outward emotion, this was another sign that his careful restraint was slipping.

"That's right," he heard his brother pipe, "Rémy the Secretary told me you were going to pay for a new one! Do you think that's wise, Philippe? It would take a quarter of our estate..." Hearing Raoul say those words made the elder groan louder. No, this was no dream; it was a nightmare.

"Don't talk, Raoul," came Erik's musical voice, "Just the sound of you makes him feel worse. Sort of like the same effect you have on me...I'm beginning to warm to Count Philippe..."

"Monsieur le Comte?"

Philippe cracked his fingers open. He saw Christine leaning over him, her gaze kind. The Count was surprised when she took his hand in her own: it was as fragrant and soft as a rose petal. Christine rubbed his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, Monsieur, you're in Erik's house by the lake. Nadir carried you here while we were making our quick escape from the stage, before the managers noticed we were gone." She laughed. Philippe looked into her caring eyes and began to understand why his brother was so madly in love with her. Had he been younger, and living in another lifetime, he would've felt the same.

"We needn't have worried," he heard Nadir remark, "they were too busy crying on each other's shoulders to notice much of anything."

"Yes, and La Carlotta and her pet Piangi are a bit upset," Erik smirked, drawing his cape about him. "She thinks Raoul was trying to rape her or some nonsense..." he gagged suddenly. "Ugh! I shouldn't think about it!"

Philippe pushed himself up onto his elbows, and gingerly felt the bandage on his head. He winced at the pain. "Don't touch it, Monsieur le Comte," Erik said smoothly, rolling the rest of the bandage roll up and putting it away. "You have a mild concussion, thanks to your brother," he added deliciously. Raoul gave Philippe his wide-eyed I'm-very-sorry look.

"Anyway," Erik continued in a bored voice, "she's going to press charges against Raoul for sexual abuse..." he hid a snigger, "and the managers are furious about the chandelier and are insisting that you pay up rather soon." He picked delicately at his teeth.

"You mean they insist we pay up rather soon," the Count said quietly. Erik twitched. His golden eyes shot towards Philippe's face. There was silence. Nadir was beginning to look nervous. Christine averted her eyes.

"We?" Erik said delicately.

"Yes, we." The Count gazed calmly into Erik's face. His cold blue eyes never swayed.

"I'm afraid I misunderstand you." Though from his tone, Erik understood perfectly well.

"You're paying for half the damages to the chandelier. You were the one who gave Raoul those chocolates, not to mention you were on the thing when it dropped."

The Phantom said nothing, just stared at Philippe. Nadir broke in quickly, "It's only fair, Erik. You have more then enough money from your little monthly pay package from the managers..."

"I'm aware," Erik snapped. He fixed Philippe with one of his terrifying stares. When the man did not blink, Erik began to laugh. He offered his hand. "It's a deal, Monsieur! I see you're not to be easily intimidated...what's a little money between friends?" They both shook on it. Philippe got up...he was a little dizzy, but felt well enough to pay the managers a visit. Nadir suggested they left at once, and they did.

Aside from a few incidents on the lake...namely, Raoul dropping one of the oars in the water so that they spent 20 minutes paddling in circles trying to reach it, and Erik's sudden announcement that he feared his boat would break from their combined weight and deciding to lighten the load by jettisoning Raoul before Philippe could stop him, all went well. As Philippe and the others neared the managers' office, raised voices could be heard: Firmin and André were arguing as usual.

"Scandalous! What would the papers think –"

"Diva charges sexual assault against Opera House patron! Second chandelier in pieces! For God's sake! I tell you, André, I'm really not amused!"

"Nor I! We're finished –unless we can sort this out quickly! Apparently the Comte de Chagny said he would pay for damages but there's also that charge against his brother...what WAS that young man doing on top of the chandelier?!"

"Heaven knows! Rémy said...what did you say, Rémy? Something about an enchanted chocolate?"

"Yes, Monsieur Firmin. The Persian told me the Vicomte had eaten a chocolate that made him believe that he was the Opera Ghost –"

"Oh, really? The Persian told you that, eh? You want to believe a word that man says? And the Opera Ghost gave the Vicomte these chocolates as well, I suppose, did he?"

"I don't know..."

"Really, Rémy, you're useless! Spouting rubbish like that, people will think you mad!"

"Yes, Monsieur. But..."

"But what?"

"We did see the Opera Ghost on the chandelier, sir. Saw him clear as day."

"I don't know what I saw!"

"But they disappeared afterwards! That little Daaé girl, the Persian, the Count and Viscount! Sounds like the work of the Phantom to me, M. Firmin..."

"Be quiet! I don't want to hear that name mentioned again –" Phillippe opened the door, deciding he wouldn't bother to knock. Firmin and André leapt back when he appeared, and their eyes started from their heads when they saw Raoul, Christine, and Nadir follow. Erik, once again, had vanished.

"Relax, Monsieurs," Philippe said dryly, "we haven't been magicked away by the Phantom. I came simply to talk about the cost of that chandelier."

"That's 30,000 francs!" André pouted. "That includes restoration to the ceiling! That fresco was very old, you know!"

"I will pay 15,000."

"What?!" Firmin screeched, "Rémy told me you said that you would pay full cost!"

"I am paying the other half," came Erik's voice. The managers grabbed at each other in fright when Erik walked in. The Phantom curled his lip at them. "Yes, it's me, the Opera Ghost! So what! I'm here to talk...business..." he said with a sardonic sneer. He waved an arm at Philippe. "The Count has agreed to pay half because it was his brother's fault the chandelier fell. I'm paying half...for other reasons."

"Because you were on it," André said bluntly, clapping a hand over his mouth when Erik gave a glare that would've melted iron.

"I wouldn't talk if I were you, Monsieur –"

At this point the door was nearly blown off its hinges.

Because Carlotta had just barrelled through it, of course.

The Spanish diva swept herself up regally, ready to deliver her rehearsed resignation speech to the managers, before she caught sight of Erik and screamed. The managers cringed as one man, and Philippe and the others, (except for Erik), edged away from them.

"I see how zis works now!" Carlotta fumed, clasping a red shawl about her shoulders. She pointed a finger at André. "Ze managerial staff ees making dealings with ze Opera Ghost! Ze chandelier eencident vas staged!"

"Eeet was not," Erik mimicked, sneering, "Perhaps eet was because of your tre-mendous weight, weeth you thundering about on ze stage like vun of 'Annibal's elephants zat caused ze chandelier to break loose!"

Philippe, quietly, put his head in his hands.

Carlotta was speechless, but only for a split second.

"You...you ANIMALE!" she screeched, going crimson, "You 'ave ze nerve to talk to me like zat –"

"- Blah, blah, blah," intoned Erik, making even that monosyllabic dull word sound melodious because of his musical voice. After a second's consideration he thought so too, and began repeating it for his amusement: "Blah, blah, blah..."

"Please, dear lady," Philippe said loudly and hurriedly, drowning out Erik's repeated blah-ing (and earning him a glare), "I understand why you wish to press charges but I assure you my brother meant no harm at all –"

"In fact," Erik smoothly interrupted, his tone gone from mocking to courteous, a sly gleam in his eyes, "if you don't have press charges...a nice thank you present awaits you...Senora." He bowed.

Carlotta was speechless for the second time. Then she gathered herself up. "And what," she said icily, "bribe do you expect me to take, Senor?"

"Yes, what br- "Raoul began before Philippe discreetly elbowed him.

"Not a bribe!" Erik said in shocked, scandalised tones, "Not for a diva of the highest regard, never! A gift, perhaps, a well-deserved reward for this Spanish nightingale...never a bribe!"

Carlotta smoothed her dress and adjusted her shawl, glaring. In truth she was flattered. Erik's sincere, respectful, almost hypnotizing voice had flowed into her ears like some gentle rain. The Phantom could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

"We shall see," she replied archly.

Erik smiled; one that Philippe didn't like. He said, "Raoul, be a gentleman and hand me the gift box we prepared for La Carlotta..."

Raoul looked puzzled. "What gift box?"

"The chocolates, you fool!" Erik hissed in his ear. "Give me them!"

"But they're my birthday –"

In two deft movements Erik had stomped on Raoul's foot and plucked the chocolates delicately out of his astonished hands. He presented them with exaggerated servitude to Carlotta. "A few are missing, dear lady, because we considered them inferior to your tastes..."

Say what you will about the attitude of singers, no one can resist chocolate. Carlotta was no exception. Her eyes hovered greedily on the luxurious spread laid before her. The managers looked confused. Rémy, on the other hand, was looking excited.

"Care for a taste, Senora?" Erik purred, ignoring Philippe's terrified look. The Count started to open his mouth but Nadir gave him the slightest of shaking of the head, smiling as if at a private joke. Philippe felt his jaw close. It seemed as if Erik had been planning this all along.

Carlotta plucked a round chocolate with innocent white swirls of icing, and regarded it. She looked at Erik's face, but couldn't read much from it because of the mask. The Phantom kept his eyes carefully blank. Raoul looked puzzled. Christine and Nadir were attempting to disguise their laughter as coughs. Philippe looked like he had just been hit in the face with a fish.

She popped the chocolate into her mouth.

Erik smiled evilly.

Philippe gaped as Carlotta suddenly leapt onto the manager's desk with large thud, scattering papers everywhere and frightening André and Firmin out of their wits. "Hoo hoo hoo ha ha!" she yelped, and began tossing their papers and pens about the room. Erik was leaning on Nadir, laughing. "She thinks she's a bloody monkey! Hahaha!"

"What is this?!" André screeched, ducking as a paperweight sailed over his head. "Senora, please!"

Erik, laughing madly, grabbed Christine and sprinted towards the door. There he stopped, threw a wad of franc notes at Firmin, then rushed out. Nadir ran after them. Philippe decided that this was a good course of action, and was about to run when some shrieks were heard and he turned to find Raoul fighting with Carlotta over the box of chocolates.

"Mine!" Raoul shouted, pulling at them. Carlotta hooted and tugged back. Philippe gritted his teeth and ran over to Raoul. "Let them go, for god's sake! They've caused nothing but trouble!"

"OW! She bit me!"

Philippe dragged him away, then reached into his pocket, hurriedly counted 1500 francs, and slammed them on the desk, dodging Carlotta. "Your money, Monsieurs! Adieu!"

Rushing down the corridor, pulling Raoul along, he chanced a look back. Rémy was behind a chair laughing his head off. Firmin and André were trying to resist Carlotta, who was trying to groom them for fleas. They'd turned a corner, when a perfumed hand reached out from a dressing room and yanked Philippe in by the collar. He stumbled over the doorway and righted himself against a wall...when he looked up, a pair of fine green eyes he recognized were staring back at him. Raoul was looking in from the doorway, puzzled.

"Why hello, Comte Philippe de Chagny," Sorelli purred, moving her hand slowly down his chest. "How kind of you to come and visit me..." She laughed.

Philippe gulped.

A/N: Well, I hope you liked. Is it me or is Phantom humour insanely hard to do? Please say it's not just me. Also, Philippe phics seem to be in minority around here...I personally can't see how you can read the description of him in Leroux and not fall madly in love with him, but oh well...he's an accquired taste. smirk . Please please review!