Thanks guys for the feedback! Sooo much and I'm so glad that you like this story XD
And now I hope that you'll like this chapter, too ;3
Enjoy!
A/N: It's very late over here already, so I admit I'm much too tired to go on typo-mistakes and stuff. Please overhead them for now, I promise I'll do the correction tomorrow :3
Long hours without sleep. Long hours of reading, waiting. Of sitting beside Phil in silence for most of the time, yet every now and then he speaks to him, hushed and sometimes not more than a whisper. Calming words. Words of affection. And with the words come soothing touches. It's in those moments when Phil leaves the heavy and sickness-induced, fever-laced sleep and slips into an uneasy, nightmarish state of being half awake, half unconcious that Stephen does it, like leaning in close, leaving a kiss on a heated forehead to shoo the fever and the nightmares away, the burning skin keeping his lips prisoner for a long moment every time they touch it. And his hand, it finds Phil's, holding it until the bad dream ist over.
Long hours. A whole day, a whole night. Stephen refuses to sleep, does everything he can to make it easier for Phil, like cooling his body with cold poultices, gently washing the sweat of his face, arms, legs, chest…
Four times though he finds himself close to panicking as the fever peaks, reaching a critical state and while he cools the burning body with cold water and ice, his mind already calls an ambulance. But every time he fever peaks, Stephen somehow wins and manages to bring it down again.
It's early morning when Stephen finds the fever drop with every time he takes Phil's temperature, until it's gone eventually. The fever-laced sleep becomes a calm, restful one and still he keeps sitting beside Phil, watches him sleep and get better and the sleeping man's skin is warm now, not burning anymore. And it's hushing the deep worry that lingers in Stephen and it's almost impossible for him not to look at the peaceful sight.
The morning crawls on and to Stephen it seems endless as he waits for Phil to wake up. It's noon when a soft little sound reaches his ear and when he looks at Phil, he finds green orbs wander around the room, confusion and exhaustion lying in them. The still slightly dazed eyes keep their aimless trail through the room up, until Phil eventually realizes that there is someone sitting at his side and slowly turning his head a bit towards Stephen, he meets his gaze.
Stephen watches as something shifts in those green eyes and suddenly there is a softness lying in them and relief maybe.
"Hey there," Stephen murmurs and smiles down at Phil, gently running his fingers through the damp locks. "Welcome back." He feels a sunny warmth grow in his chest as Phil gives him a tiny smile and hums. "How are yer feeling?"
"Like shit," Phil whispers. "Sticky…"
"How 'bout a shower? Will make yer feel a bit better," Stephen suggests. "I'm gonna have an eye on yer though. Don't want yer to pass out again and hit yer pretty head."
"Pretty head, huh?" Phil snorts weakly and slightly quirks an eyebrow. "You just want to see me naked."
The smile on Stephen's face dims a bit, becomes very soft as he replies quietly: "Tha, too."
The slight amusement that laces into his voice doesn't cover the truth that lies within his answer and Phil's smile dims, too, as he hears it. But it doesn't vanish from his lips, rather becomes uncertain. Shy almost.
And Stephen thinks that despite the pale, sticky, sweaty and crumpled mess Phil is this very moment, that he looks… adorable.
"Yeah… a shower would be great," Phil eventually whispers, the shy smile staying on his lips.
It takes them about ten minutes until Phil finally stands in the shower, letting the water rain down on him and he's still wobbly on his legs. Stephen stands close, just in case Phil passes out again or slips.
With a sigh Phil closes his eyes and dips his head back and Stephen allows his eyes travel over the other man's body, watches the water cascade down on it. He has seen him naked before, more than once, but he has never before actually been aware of what he's been seeing. He is now and… he likes the picture in front of him. And he can still feel this body molded against his own.
His heart starts to beat a bit harder…
Another sigh gets washed away by the falling water as Phil opens his eyes again and turns the water off, oblivious to the way he's being looked at and it gives Stephen the time to direct his gaze back at Phil's face. The other man is still pale, but it's better than a few minutes ago.
Blue finds green and it is back, that shy smile, as Phil steps out of the shower, but it's wiped from his lips as he sways, screws his eyes shut and Stephen practically sees the just gained bit of color drain from his face. Phil's hands come up to Stephen's chest and fist into his tee for a hold, but it's the broad arm wrapped around his waist that holds him safe until the color returns to the smaller man's face.
"Better?" Stephen asks quietly after a few seconds and receives a hesitant nod.
Fishing for the bathrobe, he wraps Phil into it and hangs a towel over his head, gently drying the raven hair, while the hands stay fisted in his shirt. Once more the green eyes close and Phil seems to relax under his ministration, the strained features becoming smooth… He stops then, lets his fingers glide under the towel and runs them through the now damp strands of black hair, pushes the towel back until it falls to the floor with a quiet flap and he wonders if Phil allows him to do this because he's not yet back to his old self, or because… he likes it. Wants it? Stephen blinks once, because he for sure likes to touch the smaller man like this…
… and wants it…
And suddenly Stephen feels as if he's taking advantage of the situation, of Phil, who's still tired, exhausted. Weak. Guilt seeps into the moment. His hands leave the dark hair and he tries not to think that he sees a certain regret in the other man's eyes as he does. Phil's hands eventually let go of Stephen's tee as the hood of the bathrobe is pulled over his head, slips his arms into the sleeves and wraps the robe tightly around himself.
He's ridiculously pliant though as Stephen guides him to the couch, a big arm circling his waist, while a strong hand is curled around his upper arm to steady him. It's quietness that keeps them company on their way there, as Stephen helps the other man to get comfortable or as he goes to the kitchen to get some water for Phil. He tells him that he goes to make the bed fresh, that Phil only needs to call him and he's gonna be back in a blink. And… that he'll leave today when he can be sure that the fever stays down. His words sound dull in the lingering quietness, as dull as Phil's eyes are suddely. He wants to see that softness again, to see them glow, those beautiful, green and deep orbs. With an inaudible little sigh he turns around without any further words and heads for the bedroom. Only that he doesn't come far.
"That man I've been with, he…" Phil begins quietly but trails off as if he's afraid that someone could actually hear him.
The words are spoked so quietly that Stephen almost misses it, but the very second it sinks into his mind, it stops him dead in his tracks and it is the fact that Phil finally speaks to him, the way his voice sounds, so small somehow. For a hesitant moment he's torn between staying where he is, half on his way to the bedroom with his back turned towards the other man and maybe it would make it easier for Phil to say what he wants to this way, not being watched while speaking… and going back to the couch. But then his feet carry him back. Phil meets his eyes only for a short moment, averts his gaze then and it is more than obvious that he feels uncomfortable and so Stephen sits down on the floor beside the couch, with his back towards Phil. He can feel the moment when the other man looks at him again, can feel those green eyes rest on him.
For a long minute Stephen waits patiently for Phil to continue and when the other man finally speaks again, his voice is just above a whisper.
"He… we dated for a while and then one night he…"
Again Phil trails off and Stephen can hear him swallow hard and it causes the hair on his neck to stand on end, the way Phil speaks, hesitant, unsure, even scared a bit and maybe even worse, the words which haven't been spoke yet. What follows then leaves him shaken to his very core and with every word he feels a rage flare… as much as he wants to just turn around and soothe Phil's troubles away.
"He forced himself on me," Phil eventually says and now it's a mere whisper. "And because I thought that he loved me, I let him have his way. When I woke up the morning after I found a fucking note that he doesn't want to jeopardize his whole life for a relationship with a man. That bastard hurt me in every possible way and I swore to myself that I would never let someone hurt me again. I guess I… I couldn't go to Chicago without finding out about… what I feel. And it's easier, you know, to be the one who hurts other people... instead of being the one who gets hurt."
Phil falls silent and his words hang heavy in the air between them. So heavy that they almost crush Stephen under their weight. He wants to breathe, but there is a pressure on his chest that makes it too hard for long seconds. He wants to turn around and just pull the other man into his arms and hold him.
He wants to do something, anything. But he has no idea… what. He dares not to do anything anyway. Phil is just opening up and he does not want to crack that barely there new thing that's just growing.
With the feeling of those green orbs looking at him questioningly, waiting, he forces out: "Do I know him?"
"What? Do you want to beat him to a pulp?" Phil half huffs, half snorts, sounding still much too weak.
Stephen doesn't answer, but the idea of beating that bastard to a pulp sounds like a plan and… he can't remember a time before when he has ever thought something like that.
"Stephen?"
He still doesn't say anything, just dips his head a bit forward. The epiphany that hits him this very second doesn't shake him as much as he would have expected or as it probaby should and maybe, just maybe it is because he has already known it… without understanding what it is.
He is in love.
It is as simple as that. He is in love with this peculiar man and neither does is shock him, nor digust him, because the gem that is hidden behind that façade is too beautiful. So very beautiful that Stephen doesn't look away. Doesn't want to. Never again. He is in love with Phil and it's the best thing that has ever happened to him… because never before has he felt a need like the one he's been feeling in the past days, that need for more… a need for this man. A need that makes him feel alive in a way he could never have magined. And it feels so goddamn good…
"You would really do that…" It is a statement, not a question and Phil says it in disbelief and maybe there is also a tad wonder lying in it. When Stephen refuses to give a reply, Phil adds softly: "No. You don't know him."
Nodding slightly, thinking that it's better that it's no one he knows, Stephen eventually murmurs: "I'm not him."
He can feel a change in the way the other man looks at him. It feels softer. It feels good and there it is again, the need for more. For a second or two he forgets how to breathe as he notices a featherlight touch on the back of his neck.
"I know," Phil whispers and the touch moves over to Stephen's shoulder, becoming firmer as Phil lets his hand rest there. "I'm sorry, you know? For everything. I shouldn't have done this to you. I'm not better than him."
John's words come back to him. What if Phil is just as confused as you are. What if he is scared and feels lost? John has been right, hasn't he?
Covering the hand on his shoulder with his own, Stephen turns his head slightly towards it and replies gently: "Don't say tha. Yer are not like him. And I could have stopped yer, but I didn't want yer to stop. I'm not sorry tha yer came to me locker and I'm not sorry tha I'm here now."
There is the tiniest of twitches of the hand he has covered, yet it stays right there on his shoulder. Then there is another tiny movement as Phil begins to brush his thumb back and forth a bit.
"Why, Stephen? Why are you putting up with everything I do and say? I… huh, I don't understand it."
He moves his own hand up a little more until he can close his fingers around Phil's wrist, just in case the other man tries to pull his hand back, because he doesn't want it. He doesn't want to lose Phil's touch.
"Isn't tha obvious?"
The thumb falters in its trail for a short moment, but Phil doesn't ask further. Maybe he knows. It feels like he knows. But maybe Stephen is wrong and it is only the hope that Phil does understand, does know and that the other man feels the same.
Too fucking naïve…
"Yer said yer wanted to find out about what yer feel…" Stephen says after what feels like a minute.
Again the thumb falters in its movement. Not wanting to push his luck, Stephen waits and decides not to dig further as he receives no answer. This now… it is much more than he could have hoped for. After what might be another full minute, Phil shifts behind him, leans closer until Stephen can hear him breathe close to his ear. Fingers curl on his shoulder, into his shirt and with a sigh a forehead is rested against the back of his head.
"Stay until tomorrow?" Phil whispers and the soft caress of warm breath on his skin makes Stephen's spine tingle.
"Yeah," he breathes, never letting go of Phil's wrist.
It's a start, he thinks. It's good.
And it is. For now it is actually… perfect. As perfect as it can be under the given circumstances. His heart reaches out to this little piece of perfection and wraps around it, puts it to every tiny good moment, thing, in the hope to eventually form the perfect perfection out of it.
They keep sitting like this for long minutes, yet it feels by far not long enough as Stephen feels Phil settle back into the cushion and when he eventually turns to face the other man, never letting go of his hand though, he sees his eyes already drooping. But he also finds a soft smile playing on Phil's lips and so he waits a little longer, hold his hand, until Phil has fallen asleep.
Only then he lets go of the precious hand and goes to the bedroom to change the bedclothes. Phil is fast asleep when he comes back to the couch, so very much that he doesn't even stir as Stephen gathers him in his arm and carries him over to the bed where he tucks him in. He sits on the edge of the mattress for a few more minutes, before he decides to rest a bit and goes back to the couch, leaving the door open.
Stephen has no idea how long he's been lying in there in the darkness, willing his eyes to stay closed and in the quietness of the room his thoughts are so loud that the noise threatens to burst his head. His brain runs in turbo mode as it tries to process what has happened ever since he has put a foot into this apartment. Everything. So very loud… that he hears the steps only as they stop right in front of him. His eyes want to open to get a glimpse, yet he wills them to stay closed. Once more he doesn't want to scare Phil away…
Another step. And one more. A rustling. And then a hesitant little kiss is placed on his temple and this tiny gesture sends jolts throughout him.
He keeps still as the lips linger a heartbeat or two on his temple and he can't move anyway, because he is frozen to the spot… afraid that if he moves, that the moment shatters. The lips leave his skin, leaving him weak and desperate for more and his heart cries, so very loud that there is a chance that Phil hears it. His fingers itch to reach out to him. Touch him. Hold him. Feel him, even if it's only the tiniest of touches. And then his heart trips, the cries falling silent as… as the blanket it lifted a little and the cuhsion dips under Phil's extra weight as he slips under the blacket and lies down in front of Stephen with his back pressed against the broad chest.
This… has to be a dream… because… how can this be real?
Not sure if he really should dare it, Stephen hesitates to reach out and touch him and it ridiculous, isn't it, that he's afraid to do this, now that the man who has claimed his heart and tried so hard to push him away has come to him… The pressure against his chest gets firmer as Phil inches back against him subtly. An unspoken invitation which his heart can't decline… His arm moves, curls around Phil's chest gingerly, and his hand finds a perfect place on the spot right above a fast beating heart as he pulls the smaller frame even closer and feels him move in his hold ever so sligthly, before a hand settles on his. Fingers intertwine.
His cosmos is filled with the warmth of the body that lies pressed up against him and the beating heart under his hand, with the sound of soft breathing and the calming scent of sandalwood. And still he can't believe that this is real. This is Phil. Lying in his arms. No. No, he can't believe it. But for now it doesn't matter if this is a dream or not, because for now his world just has become a little more perfect and his heart sings and his mind floats in the bubble of good feelings which grows around them. Nuzzling his cheek against the raven hair, he lets go and for the first time in days… his whirling thoughts fall silent. It takes only a handful of seconds before he feels the body in his arms go slack, feels him sag in his embrace. The soft breathing sound becomes barely audible and the rising and falling of Phil's chest goes shallow and slow. And almost as if Phil pulls his down into sleep with him, he feels a faint tugging as the strain of the past days makes itself know, bringing a overwhelming exhaustion along. But now it is okay, isn't it? To give himself a break?
Sleep floods him and he drowns in it willingly, the utter, peaceful silence in his head carrying him and Phil… his warmth, his scent… guarding him…