Warnings: AU, Implied Child Abuse. Eventual Warnings: Slash (Stone Cold Steve Austin/CM Punk), Smut, Profanity, Age difference.
The rest of September is slow going. Phil doesn't say much of anything; it almost gets to the point where Steve is beginning to think things are worse than when he first arrived. The second manila folder stays on the dresser in his room, taunting him, as much as he wants to read the folder, to find out as much as he can, he can't help but remember Phil telling to ask him if there was something Steve wanted to know. It's a problem, but like so many problems that are Phil related, it's not something with an easy solution.
You have to be patient, my rattlesnake. He'll come around.
It's like a mantra in Steve's head. The soft voice of his wife reminding him to be patient with Phil, reminding him that he's scared, so very scared, and that it'll take him time to be brave enough to let Steve in even a little.
The first week of October is as tense and awkward, Phil is even more of a ghost, and Steve has no idea what to do with him. Its Friday already and there's been no progress from the miserably infuriating Sunday Jim had been there. Steve can feel frustration building, but not with Phil, it's all aimed at himself. He should be better at this by now, he should be better at putting terrified children at ease than he is.
He's back out working on the fencing when he sees Phil slowly making his way up the track to the house. His stance is tired, like the weight of the World is pressing down on his shoulders, Hershey running around him excitedly. Steve had wondered where she'd gotten to, but it seems she'd gone to wait for Phil at the end of the track. She's about the only living being Phil seems willing to spend time with, so Steve waits, giving the kid time to get into the house before making his way up. The whole house seems deserted, and there's a brief moment of panic that Phil has run away that has Steve moving quickly from room to room trying to find him. Eventually he finds Hershey sitting in a hallway in front of an open bathroom door.
"Phil... What the hell happened to you?" The kid is dabbing at a cut over his eyebrow, a tense look of concentration that's jolted from his face at Steve's words.
"Dodged left instead of right." He says calmly, returning to dabbing the blood from his face. "It's nothing." He shrugs, and Steve comes into the bathroom.
"Turn round, lemme see." The kid does as Steve asks, and he holds his hand out, waiting for Phil to hand him the damp wad of toilet paper he's using to clean his face into it. The cut is small, and the bruising around it gives away that it was made by a fist. "So... What happened?" Phil glances away, tension obvious in his stance. Slowly, so he doesn't spook Phil, Steve takes a hold of his chin and starts gently wiping the last of the blood away, examining the damage. It's the only wound on the kid's face, and Steve wonders if he can expect a call from the school soon, clearly a teacher must have broken the fight up. It's then that it occurs to him that he's still holding Phil's chin and he lets go. Phil meets his eyes surprisingly easily, like he'd expected to be punished and is surprised but happy that Steve hasn't at least scolded him.
"Some jock decided to try and teach me a lesson." Phil's voice is soft, but kind of smug. "He got lucky with the first hit." A hint of a smirk rests on his lips, and Steve stares at him. "What? I'm from the city... One small town jock is nothing compared to what I was dodging in the halls." He laughs and Steve shakes his head. It's by and far the most he's heard from Phil in days, so even if he is getting a call from the school, Steve can't bring himself to be too annoyed, anything that has Phil talking is a good thing.
"How bad's the other guy?" He asks, opening the cabinet on the wall and taking out a tube of anti-septic.
"Nothing on the face... His ribs won't be thanking him for messing with me for a few days." The touch of smugness remains in Phil's voice, and Steve laughs. He knows he should be disciplining Phil right now, but he can't not when he sounds almost happy.
"What stopped it?" He considers if he should put the cream on or let Phil do it himself. He doesn't like being touched, that much Steve has concluded from how he fought out of that awkward hug, but it's the sort of kindness his wife would perform before sending a kid to him to get their punishment. He often wondered what she'd say to kids when she was patching them up after the depressingly regular fights some of them would get into. These tough inner-city kids coming to him all contrite and genuinely sorry was always strange, but she'd had a way with words, and he'd always made the punishment fit the crime. He's no idea what to do on his own, can't even think of a punishment for Phil.
"His friends." Phil shrugs, his eyes downcast, letting Steve dab the cream into the wound. "I think there was a lesson learned, just not the one he wanted to teach." The hint of a smirk flits back to Phil's lips, and Steve shakes his head. There's really nothing he can say to this, he'd kind of proud, but he knows he shouldn't be.
"You know..." Steve caps the tube of cream, and sits on the edge of the tub with a heavy sigh. He needs to meet out some discipline, but the drooping of Phil's shoulders makes him want to skip it entirely.
"I shouldn't have punched him back?" Phil asks, turning back to the mirror, something contrite on his face. "I know... But if you make a strong first impression, it usually makes people leave you alone. I made the mistake of turning the other cheek one too many times before." He adds quietly, and Steve sighs, standing and clapping him on the shoulder lightly, watching him cringe slightly.
"I should be pissed, but..." Steve leaves the little bathroom, and pauses in the hall. "But, I'm buying pizza for dinner, something Chicago style, and you're gonna tell me where you learned to fight." The sound of Phil laughing is gloriously unexpected, but thoroughly welcome.
That weekend, Steve decides Phil's punishment will be something the kid probably isn't expecting in the least. He gets up early, dressed warm and cosy. The plan is something incredibly odd, even to Steve, but it'll hopefully be fun.
"Morning." Steve hands Phil a cup of coffee when he comes shuffling into the kitchen, talking low and soft to Hershey about the call-in show he'd fallen asleep to last night.
"Steve?" He sounds surprised, his shock making him forget to remember to call Steve Mr Austin, and Steve grins at him.
"Go put more clothes on kiddo. We're going out for breakfast." Steve laughs at the confused expression on Phil's face. Hershey looks at Steve, and he points to her food bowl. She huffs, unimpressed with the idea of dog food for breakfast and Phil smiles slightly. "You spoil her. She resents getting nothing but dog food now." Steve laughs, and Phil shrugs, finishing his coffee.
"I figured I'd be getting punished for beating up a guy, not pizza for dinner and breakfast out..." He mutters, and Steve laughs taking the empty cup from Phil's hands.
"Warm as you can, Phil, it's gonna be cold." The kid shakes his head and leaves the kitchen, going back to his room, coming back bundled up in more clothes, looking like he'd gained five pounds because of the layers.
"So where are we going?" Phil asks, following Steve out to the truck, climbing into the back with Hershey.
"You can sit up front, you know." Steve says, starting to drive. In the rear-view mirror Steve can see that Hershey has wriggled over to Phil, her head in his lap, looking far happier to be in the truck than usual.
"She's scared of the truck... It has bad memories. She'll be happier to have someone with her." Phil says softly, and Steve supposes he'll take the kid's word for it. He clearly has plenty of bad memories of his own, so he must know a thing or two about dealing with them. "Where are we going?" Phil asks again after Steve takes a different turn, heading in the opposite direction from town. Steve laughs, but doesn't answer. It's a surprise and he doesn't want to spoil it. Hershey suddenly sits up, her tail wagging, and Phil seems even more confused.
"Miss Hershey knows where we're going, don't you little lady?" The dog turns to Steve, and tries to clamber into the front, getting caught and pulled back by Phil before she can make it. "Dogs don't ride shotgun, Wonder Dog, you know that." Steve chides her, and she settles beside Phil, licking his face excitedly.
"You're taking me off somewhere to murder me, aren't you?" Phil asks suddenly, and Steve laughs again. The kid has a weird thought process.
"Nope, not killing you yet." Steve laughs, and Phil snorts.
"He's not killing me because he knows he'd have to cook for himself if he did, Hershey." Phil loud whispers to the dog and Steve meets his eyes in the mirror. "Isn't that right, Steve?" Steve grins at the kid, at the subtle confidence in the way he said Steve's name.
"Well... You're a good little cook, Phil. A fine culinary career awaits you." Phil laughs, and Steve can't keep the grin from his lips. It's always good to hear his sullen little charge laugh; he's got a good laugh, the kind of laugh that makes you want to laugh along with him.
"Regular Gordon Ramsey." Phil mutters, and Steve laughs again, the sound of Phil chuckling at his own joke is beyond welcomed.
"We're here." Steve parks, and Phil stares out the window, Hershey wriggling over him, scratching frantically at the window, wanting out desperately. Steve hops out, and opens the door for her, almost getting knocked over in her excitement. She's always been far too fond of swimming; the sight of her charging head first into the lake has Phil laughing.
"We going to get Hershey to catch us breakfast? Cause if we are, I think we're going to starve." Phil laughs as he watches the dog, paddling around like she was still a pup.
"Oh no." Steve takes the tackle box from the bed of the truck and hands it to Phil, before picking up two rods. "We're doing the catching. What you catch, you eat." Steve grins, and Phil pales.
"I've never fished..." He mutters, squinting out at the lake.
"Well, better get good quick, Phil, better get good quick." Steve starts for the jetty, where his little rowboat is tied up waiting for him. "You been in a boat before?" He asks, taking the tackle box from Phil, his skin even paler.
"Once... It was bigger than this..." Steve holds his hand out to the kid, not sure if he'll take it or not. It's a surprise when he does, and sits, huddled in the middle of one the narrow benches, looking mildly panicked. Steve rows in silence, laughing when Hershey swims alongside the boat, trying to clamber in, her face appearing over the edge of the boat as she tries to comfort Phil. At least that's what Steve assumes she's doing, because the kid looks freaked out, and Hershey is clearly very attached to Phil.
"Hershey, you're gonna sink us." Phil tells her when she manages to get one paw onboard. She lets herself flop back in the water and swims off, coming back with a stick that she manages to toss to Phil with some kind of strange head jerk. Phil takes the stick, and looks at her. "Is she always like this in the water?" He asks nervously, and Steve isn't sure how to answer, usually she ignores Steve when he's fishing, paddling around the lake, or going on rabbit hunting expeditions. She's clearly worried about their charge, and is showing it in the only way she can.
"She likes you." Steve shrugs, and Phil glances up at him, turning the stick over in his hands. "You look like you might puke, and she's trying to help." Phil laughs and turns to the still paddling dog. Steve stops rowing, deciding this spot is good for fishing, dragging the tackle box closer.
"Thank you Miss Hershey, but how about you take this stick back, hmm?" Phil asks her, and she yelps excitedly. Steve's sure he's never seen her so taken with a kid before, clearly the way to Hershey's heart is through her stomach. "I'll take that as a yes." Phil flings the stick, and Hershey takes off after it as best she can. "She'll scare the fish away won't she?" Phil asks, and Steve shakes his head, Hershey has sense, and she'll get tired of swimming soon enough.
"Over there." Sure enough, Hershey has fetched her stick, set it down by the truck and hopped into the flat bed to have a nap. "She'll come fetch us when she's bored or hungry." Steve smiles at Phil, and opens the box, half hoping the worms he'd dug up this morning gross Phil out, but relieved when all Phil does is ask how to tie them to the line.
They end up spending all day out at the lake, making a little fire to roast the few fish they managed to catch. Steve was pleasantly surprised by how quickly Phil learnt how to fish. The first fish he'd landed he'd asked Steve to take a photo of him holding to send to his friends back in Chicago. It'd been the first time Phil had said anything relating to Chicago, but it hadn't felt like the time to pry, so Steve had been taught how take a picture, and snapped one of a beaming Phil holding a fish that was all of seven inches long.
Once they'd gotten back from the lake, Phil's as close to chatty as he seems to get. He hadn't hidden himself in his room at least. In fact, he'd sat and watched TV with Steve. It had been a surprise that they had similar tastes in shows, so it had been easy enough to find something to watch until Phil had fallen asleep on the couch. Steve had shaken him awake, and sent him off to bed. Steve falling asleep to the imagined sound of his wife's voice telling him he did good today.
Sunday sees Phil doing homework for most of the day, a pile so big that it looks like it's going to give him carpal tunnel syndrome. He baked brownies though, and Steve had sat and eaten so many of them he could barely move. He'd forgotten how good those brownies were. At dinner, Phil had tentatively asked if the weather was okay next weekend, if Steve would mind taking him fishing again, and Steve had been on the back foot, managing nothing more than a pleased but surprised of course.
Monday's breakfast had been as equally pleasant, Phil's good mood remaining, and Steve glad that there's finally something that's chipped a hole in the walls around the kid. Once Phil's gone for the day, Steve waits. He knows that there's going to be something to chase Phil back behind his walls. It always happens. Steve makes a tiny amount of progress, something spooks Phil, and he retreats.
"You Steve Austin?" When a burly man pulls up at the ranch sometime in the afternoon, Steve's not exactly sure what the guy wants. He looks like he's from town, but who the hell he is, Steve doesn't know.
"I am." Steve approaches the man with caution; Hershey sleeping on the veranda ignores him in favour of chasing rabbits in her dreams.
"You got one of them delinquents staying here again?" The man asks, and Steve supposes this is the father of the boy who tried to beat up Phil.
"What's this here all about?" Steve doesn't answer, he's not a man given to humouring rhetorical questions.
"That city brat beat up my boy." The man snarls, and Steve nods absently. "I want some retribution."
"From a kid? He's at school." Steve sighs, shaking his head. "Did you ask your boy who started the whole thing, son?" It's a cheap blow, a subtle reminder that this man is on Steve's property, threatening his family. Steve knows he's got a bit of a reputation in town from when he was still drinking in the bar. A reputation for being a man that doesn't suffer fools kindly, a man that's quite content to let his fist do the talking when dealing with them.
"Well... The way I heard it, your punk-kid attacked my boy for no reason." The man fidgets, he might be taller and heavier than Steve, but he's clearly heard the reputation.
"Your boy's on the football team?" Steve asks calmly, stepping a little closer.
"Yes, sir. Quarterback, damn proud of him." The man beams, and Steve's in no doubt that he is damn proud of his son. In Steve's mind he can picture the man's kid easily, something big and dumb as a post, thinking he can assert his dominance by attacking something that looks weaker. Fool kid probably had no idea why no one else hadn't tried their luck with Phil yet, because Phil looks fragile, all lanky limbs, and sullen silence. Steve's guessing the other bullies noticed the fact that Phil is one of those scrappy alley cats, the sort of animal that has to fight for every breath, the sort of animal that you don't mess with, no matter how fragile they seem.
"He's none too academic though, is he?" Steve smirks at the man, and he blushes, his ears turning red.
"I don't see how that's any matter." The man growls, and Steve shrugs, walking around the man's truck.
"Have you seen my Philip?" Steve asks, coming to stand in front of the man. "Bout this big." Steve hold a hand in the air, at what he estimates Phil's height to be, the man's eyes narrow. "Weighs less than a hundred pounds soaking wet." The man steps back, scowling. "I don't think he's going to be picking any fights with quarter backs." Steve smiles brightly, and the man glares. "Now, hows about you get off my property, and you and your meathead boy leave my family alone?"
"This isn't over." The man grumbles, getting in his truck. Steve slams the cab door behind him, leaning against it.
"Yes it is." He sneers. "You tell your boy to leave my Phil alone, and I won't come and break your fingers." Steve smiles genially, and the man nods tightly, swallowing heavily. The truck tears off up the track, and Hershey trots along after it. Steve glances down at his watch, noting that the school bus will be there soon. Sure enough, just as the truck pulls out of the drive, the bus pulls over. In the distance, it's hard to make out the thin figure of Phil, only made harder when he stoops to greet Hershey who's made it up the track in record time to welcome him home.
"Who was that?" Phil calls once he's close enough to the house for Steve to hear, and Steve considers carefully what he should say. It might be a bad idea to tell Phil that he had a visit from the father of the kid who tried to beat him up, but on the other hand it might make him happy to know that Steve's looking out for him.
"That kid's dad." Steve goes with the truth. If he wants Phil to be open and honest with him, he's going to have to start the ball rolling in the right direction.
"Oh..." Phil looks incredibly small, his shoulders curled in, his hands in his pockets.
"Put the fear of Steve into him." Steve laughs, and opens the front door of the house. "C'mon, I'll make some coffee, and you can get started on the homework I know is in that bag of yours."
The rest of the week is uneventful, no more unexpected visitors, and a trip to the store for groceries on Friday night are essentially the highlights. Steve had found that Phil is damn good at guessing who the murderer is in cop dramas, so they'd taken to watching old murder mystery shows once they'd finished their chores for the night. Phil had seemed keen to get to helping more on the ranch, so the fencing had finally been finished, and Steve had found himself fielding all manner of questions on what was going in the fields. He'd not really decided, and he'd absently asked Phil what he'd like to try his hand at growing. That had led to a conversation that had felt more like a lesson on farming than Steve had expected. Phil's a smart kid, and like so many smart kids before him, he was thirsty for knowledge, drinking up all Steve could offer and then going to work on one of the many books that filled the one bookcase in the den.
Saturday morning sees another deluge, so their fishing plans, and any real outdoors work is postponed. Steve finds himself at a loss for what to do, but Phil's commandeered the kitchen table, covering it with the books that make up his never-ending supply of homework.
"Do they actually make you do anything in class?" Steve asks, thumbing through a maths textbook, wincing as his brain half-heartedly tries to remember algebra.
"Uh-huh." Phil nods, his attention caught by what he's writing, covering page after page with his loopy, spidery script.
"Then why the hell is all this for home?" Steve gives up, and sets the textbook down, starting a pot of coffee.
"There's some cookies on the counter. I tried out a new recipe this morning. I'm not sure about it." Phil doesn't look up, and Steve turns to look at him. He's an industrious little thing really, and the cookie jar hasn't been empty since he discovered Steve liked his chocolate chip cookies.
"New recipe? You make some of the old ones too?" Steve grabs a plate, setting some of the cookies on it.
"Should be some in the jar." Phil's still writing, and Steve makes an agreeing noise. He's sure he's not eaten them all yet. Hershey pads over to him, looking interested in what Steve's doing and he shakes his head at her.
"No chocolate for you, girl. It's bad for dogs." Steve carries the plate over to the table, and Phil moves some books out of the way, clearing a space for it.
"There's some cookies for her in the cupboard with her food, in the tupperware box." Steve laughs at Phil, and he finally looks up, a slight smile on his face. "She always looks so sad that she can't have cookies... So I found a recipe for her." He grins, going back to his writing when Steve chuckles at him.
"You're getting spoiled, Miss Hershey. Spoiled." Steve fishes out one of the dog cookies, and sniffs it. "What are these things?" It smells damn good, like the sort of expensive crackers you buy at Christmas.
"Cheese and herb. I've a recipe for fish ones too... But I'll wait till we can catch some ourselves before making those. If this rain ever stops." Phil scowls out of the window, and stands, bringing two mugs over to the table. "Stupid rain." He mutters under his breath, and Steve carries the coffee pot, and Hershey's cookie over, taking his seat, watching as Hershey keeps her eyes trained on the treat in his hand.
"Sit. Shake hands, and say please, Hershey." Steve tells her, getting an eager paw, and an even more eager yip from the dog. "Good girl." The cookie is taken rapidly, and she trots over to Phil, as though keen to tell the chef what she thinks as soon as possible. "So, what are these ones then chef?" Steve pours Phil a mug of coffee, and Phil finally closes the book he's writing in, adding it to the completed pile.
"Salted caramel and chocolate. I'm not too good with caramel, so it might be a little..." He trails off, and takes one of the cookies. "I dunno, be honest, okay?" He asks, nervously nibbling at his cookie, a slow smile spreading over his lips.
"They good?" Steve asks, Phil looks decidedly pleased with himself, and Steve takes a big bite of the cookie he'd just grabbed. "Damn... Kid, you're a fine little baker." Steve devours the rest of his cookie, going in for seconds, that he's certain will become fourths.
"They're not too bad, huh?" Phil sounds rather pleased with himself, and grabs the next book in the pile to be completed.
It's still raining come Sunday, and Phil complains bitterly once more at the weather. He'd finished his homework yesterday, and now they're both faced with the problem of having nothing to do.
"How bout we watch movies, eat popcorn, and drink-"
"I don't drink." Phil interrupts Steve, and Steve laughs at him. If he's honest he's not had a beer since he saw Jim last, he's not really felt the need to, but he has to admit that he's surprised Phil's telling him this. It makes him wonder even more about the world Phil grew up in, that he feels the need to say he doesn't drink saddens Steve more than he'd like to admit.
"I was going to say soda, but its cold, so I could make some coffee." Steve smiles over at Phil, and the kid fidgets.
"Sure... Though, popcorn and coffee? Bad combo." He mutters, heading for the pots, and Steve shoos him out of the kitchen.
"I can make popcorn, scoot! Go pick out a movie." Steve smirks at the dubious look on Phil's face, and grabs the big pot, filling it with kernels and a little oil.
"Don't burn down the house... We need it for sleeping in." Phil calls as he leaves, laughing to himself.
When Steve finishes in the kitchen, the house is still standing, and Phil has dragged one of the blankets from his bed through to the couch, curled up under it with Hershey sitting beside him, trying to work out how she can get in on the blanket action too.
"Fistful of Dollars?" Steve's surprised by Phil's choice, but he can't say he minds. He likes The Man with No Name Trilogy, but it was his wife's favourite. He's not watched it since she passed, and he's hoping that he doesn't start thinking about her too much, or he's going to have to explain why he's crying to Phil. Steve still hasn't really talked about her yet, can't really seem to think of a reason to tell his little charge about the woman he loved and lost. It's always a conversation that'll keep, there's no point in adding Steve's sob story to Phil's already difficult life.
"Few Dollars More?" Phil asks once the movie's done, and Steve nods, going to make more popcorn and grab something else to drink. It's only when he's in the kitchen that he realises that he watched the whole movie without thinking about her once. The whole time he'd been bantering with Phil, making jokes, laughing at what Phil was saying. He can't help but think he's somehow betraying her.
My dopey rattlesnake... What am I going to do with you?
He can hear her laughing at him, can see her in his mind, rolling her eyes and smiling.
You're bonding with him, it's good! Has he ever laughed this much since he's been here? Has he ever looked as relaxed as he has these last few hours? You're doing a good job.
Steve closes his eyes, and sighs. He is doing a good job, he's making good progress with Phil, he knows he is.
"This was my wife's favourite of the three." Steve says casually as he sets the popcorn down on the table between them, handing Phil a can of soda.
"Oh?" Phil turns to him, looking surprised."Were they... I mean... I..." He looks helpless briefly and Steve takes a handful of popcorn.
"She liked Lee Van Cleef's suit, wanted me to dress up as him on Halloween every year." Steve laughs, and is amazed he can. He'd expected this to hurt badly, but it doesn't, it's like sharing her somehow, it's like giving Phil a little piece of the woman he loved so much, and it feels good.
"Well, it's a damn nice suit." Phil says softly, like he understands that this should be painful for Steve, like he expects this conversation to be rapidly called to a halt. "We can wat-"
"You wanna make dinner after this one? Eat it with The Good, The Bad and The Ugly?" Steve interrupts Phil, he wants to see this movie, he wants to hear what Phil has to say about it, he wants to hear the sound of his little houseguest laughing again, because it's a good laugh, the kind of laugh you want to hear every day.
The week flies by, nothing-untoward happening, and Steve almost at a loss with what to do with himself. He'd felt out of sorts since he'd sat and watched those movies with Phil, had watched his wife's favourite movies with only thoughts of how good it was to be bonding with Phil. He feels strangely like he's doing something he shouldn't, and if she were there, she'd be laughing her ass off at him. He goes to visit her grave in the middle of the week; she's buried under a big tree down by the creek. She'd loved that part of the ranch, had loved how in the spring the blossom on the tree smelled incredible, had loved swinging in the old tyre swing on one of the branches. He's spent hours talking to her, had left flowers for her, had told her all about Phil, and how he and Hershey were almost inseparable. He'd lost his bed warmer to Phil at some stage during the month, Hershey opting to leave earlier and earlier, until she just claimed a spot on the end of Phil's bed as her own. He doesn't resent it, he can't resent it, but his bed feels so big and empty without some other living being in it with him, even if it is just his dog. When Steve had gotten back to the ranch house, Phil was home, and making dinner. It was a weird feeling, coming home to house filled with delicious smells. He'd been struck with a horrible wave of déjà vu, especially when Phil had asked him how the cattle were doing. Walking into the ranch house that day had felt more like coming home to Steve, than it had in over a year.
That weekend the weather is clear, and Phil is unreasonably excited at the prospect of going fishing again. Steve agrees that they'll go Sunday. He needs to talk to Phil about a few things, things that he's probably not going to like, so Steve wants to put it off as long as possible. He's decided that out on the boat is the best place to bring up awkward topics. There's very little out there to distract Phil, and nowhere for him to go, it's possibly unfair, but Steve thinks it's for the best, and the kid has a mountain of homework that needs to be done before Monday. So Saturday, Steve devotes to replying to the newest bundle of letters he has, and Phil devotes to writing his considerable amount of homework.
"So... What you wanna do for your birthday?" Steve asks, glancing over at Phil, watching him carefully tying a new worm to the end of his rod. They've been in the middle of the lake for a little while, and Steve thinks it's time to start in with the topics of conversation he needs to have.
"My birthday?" Phil looks over at him, and shrugs. "It's not important." He casts the line, and watches the water, his eyes distant. "I don't really remember ever celebrating it much." Steve stares at him, at the sombre set to his shoulders, feeling his heart clench. Phil parents, Steve decides in that moment, are scum. Phil's a good kid, a sweet, charming, funny kid; he deserves so much more than the hand he's been dealt.
"Sixteen's a big year, kid." Steve casts his own line, and holds back the urge to hug Phil. He looks like he needs a hug, but he's not forgotten how poorly he reacted to the one time Steve attempted to hug him.
"It's just another day." Phil shrugs again, twitching his rod slightly, trying to entice the fish into biting. He's learnt how to fish quickly, Steve wonders if he'd enjoy learning how to fly fish, learning about different lures, and rod techniques, it might be something to consider.
"I meet my wife at her sixteenth birthday party." Steve says conversationally. It's true enough; he had met her then, back when he was dating some girl on the cheer squad. He can't say it had been love at first sight, but they'd gotten on well enough, and had grown closer and closer. "You like drawing, right? Or I could get you some clothes... There has to be something you want, Phil." Steve mutters, he'd known this wouldn't be a fun topic of conversation, and this isn't even the one he's really been putting off.
"You're not gonna let this go, huh?" Phil turns to him, a full-blown smirk on his face. It's a welcome addition to the range of facial expressions Steve's seen the kid wear. "Bake me a cake and be done with it." He twitches his line again, grinning when he starts reeling it in, landing a fine start to breakfast.
"Well, I can buy you one." Steve laughs and nudges Phil's shoulder, the kid tenses at the casual contact, but relaxes quickly enough.
"Ah... Good point, we don't want you baking." He mutters, securing a new worm to his hook. "You're having no luck this morning." Phil smiles at Steve, and it's true enough, nothing's been biting for Steve at all. There's a long period of comfortable silence between them for a while, then Phil sighs, fidgeting. "Some paint." He says quietly, turning to look at Steve. "I'd like some water colours and one of those water colour books, the ones with the thick pages so it doesn't bleed." Steve nods at him.
"That I can do." Finally, a fish is tempted by Steve's worm, and he lands a good-sized addition to their catch. It feels like fate is smiling at him, a reward for having cracked a little more of Phil's considerable shell.
"That's not alls you wanted to say, is it?" Phil asks, turning back to the lake, and Steve sighs. "Mr Ross is coming on my birthday?"
"No... I got him to come Saturday instead." Steve says quietly, he hopes this visit doesn't have Phil freaking out again. Jim isn't going to take Phil away, not before this year is up, Steve won't let him, so there's nothing to worry about. "I know... The last time Jim came over, Phil... You clammed right up, and we seem to be getting on pretty well right now." Steve sighs again, not sure how to proceed with this.
"You think he'd like more steak? We'd need to buy some at the store, but I dunno... I think we should make him be a little more adventurous." Phil grins over at Steve, and Steve glances at him, grinning back.
"Adventurous you say?" Steve hopes this is Phil assuring him that this time he's not worried, that this time he gets that this isn't something he needs to panic about, Jim's a friend, and he's coming to dinner, that's all it is.
"I was thinking maybe something Asian... I've been reading some of the cookbooks, and there's this interesting recipe for a prawn salad with pomelo. I think it'd do some good for Mr Ross to have more salad." Steve laughs, and nods.
"I got no idea what the fuck a pomelo is, but if we can find the damned thing, we're serving Good Ol' JR some Asian salad. We gonna get a whole theme going? I think there's some chopsticks somewhere in the basement." Phil laughs at Steve's suggestoin, and Steve's certain that's he's going to be looking out those chopsticks next week.
Over the week, Steve finds the chopsticks, and Phil makes up the rest of the menu for their Asian inspired feast, along with giving lessons on how to use the chopsticks to Steve. It had been much easier to master once Phil had explained that a more simple method of using them was treating them like a pair of scissors. Once Steve had the hang of it, he'd practiced using them for everything, fishing cookies out of the jar with a pair, to the amusement of Phil.
Wednesday sees Steve entering a place he'd never been before, the art supplies store on the main street in the town. The little old lady behind the counter reminds him of an owl, all big eyes and a hooked beak of a nose, her mouth waspishly small.
"Can I help you?" Her voice is oddly deep, and it only adds to the impression that she is an owl.
"Well, ma'am... I think you can." Steve walks up to the counter and knows he looks out of his depth, but he really is. He knows what Phil asked for, he'd memorised it in the boat, written it down when he'd gotten home on the pad of paper in his bedroom, the pad beside the still unread manila folder, but now that he's here, he's forgotten everything.
"Well, with what?" The owl woman asks again, and Steve fishes in his pants pocket for the slip of paper with Phil's request on it.
"Water colours." He smiles at her, and the woman's eyebrows rise. "And a pad of paper for them... And some brushes too." Phil might not have asked for them, but painting requires brushes, and Steve wants him to be able to enjoy his gift.
"You don't strike me as an artist, sir." The owl woman says coolly, and Steve laughs.
"Not at all, ma'am... They're for my..." Steve pauses; he's not sure how to describe Phil to this old woman. He's not really Steve's son, he's more like his charge, but that's not a very flattering way to put it.
"Oh now... I think I recognise you from the paper." The old woman adjusts her glasses. "You and wife, god rest her soul, you run that little house for strays, right?" She smiles, and she looks less like a crotchety old owl and more like a nice friendly one. He's not sure Phil would approve of being called a stray, but Steve's made the comparison many times in his head. "I thought you'd shut your doors." She moves from behind the counter, and wanders over to the paints.
"I did, ma'am, but I was talked into taking on one more kid." Steve smiles awkwardly.
"Oh! The new boy at the school? My daughter has been telling me about him. Talented little thing, but not very impressed with her teaching methods." The old woman laughs, and begins squinting at her own wares. "I can't say I blame him... These new art teaching methods..." She sneers, and Steve has the feeling this old woman and Phil would have a very interesting conversation. "She showed me some of his work, had a rant about how he missed the point of the exercise." The old woman scoffs. "Beautiful composition, good eye for a line, needs to work on his shading, textures, and proportions. I told her, that's what you need to tell the boy, not tell him he's missing the point of the exercise. I thought it was rather witty myself." She laughs and hands Steve a box, setting a packet of brushes down on top of it.
"That wouldn't be an exercise in drawing dreams would it?" Steve asks, and the old woman laughs, turning to him with a grin.
"It would indeed." She then moves to the pads of paper. "Which size?" Steve stares at her, and she shakes her head. "Hmm... Talented little thing like that boy should get a choice." She picks out a small pad, then a slightly larger one, and finally a huge one, carrying them over to the counter herself. "This is for his birthday, I'm guessing?" She asks, and Steve nods, not really sure what to say. "Well, let me wrap it up for him. That'll be hmm... We'll call fifty dollars. I can't stand to see talent going to waste." She laughs and picks up some gift-wrap from under the counter.
"Here you go, ma'am." It seems like a lot, but Steve had seen the price tags on the front of the displays. These things are expensive, even a pencil is costly in this little store. The old lady slips the fifty in the cash register, and starts wrapping. "You were an art teacher then?" Steve asks, watching the owl lady as she swiftly wraps the items up. He'd taken her comments on her daughter with the impression that back in her day things were quite different.
"Oh... A good forty years I was an art teacher... Well, I suppose I still am." She laughs. "If he's interested in getting some real advise, do have your little stray contact me." She smiles wistfully. "Talent at his age is rather like a candle." She starts bagging up the wrapped items. "My daughter is, by the school's standard, a fine teacher, but she's not what someone like your?" She makes it question, and Steve smiles awkwardly.
"His name's Phil, ma'am." Steve supplies reluctantly, this old owl has been very kind so far, he's no reason to suspect she means any harm.
"Phil? Short for Philip? A nice strong name... You know the Queen of England is married to a Philip, he's from Greece." Steve blinks at her in confusion, and she smiles vaguely.
"Well, my Philip is from Chicago." Steve feels slightly strange calling Phil his, but he supposes that for all intents and purposes, he kind of is.
"Chicago? My... That poor dear is far from home." She frowns, and Steve nods, feeling even more uncomfortable. "Oh yes! Sorry, I got distracted. If he'd like some tutoring in how to improve his technique, have him pop in and see me. My daughter has a terrible habit of blowing the candle of children's talents out." She hands Steve the bag, and pauses suddenly, going to one of the other shelves and picking up a pencil. "It's a softer lead, it'll improve his shading." She smiles, and Steve pockets the pencil.
"I'll certainly suggest he comes and sees you ma'am... I think he'd do well being taught technique rather than counselled by your daughter." The woman laughs at Steve, and he almost hopes that Phil takes this odd owl woman up on her offer. He thinks Phil would like her.
Thursday night they'd gone on a grand shopping spree, managing to find the pomelo, and Steve had been shocked at the size of the thing. It looked like a huge grapefruit, and Phil had assured him that it was much smaller once the peel was off. He'd then gone on a slightly rambling tangent about candying or marmalade-ing the peel that had Steve grinning. Now that Phil's growing more comfortable around him, Steve's beginning to notice that the kid does kind of have the habit of just talking to fill the air. It's like Phil forgets that there's someone else there and instead of thinking his thoughts, he says them. It's a curiously sweet habit, and Steve has been getting kind of used to listening to it, Phil's real accent comes through more when he rambles like that, and it is, if nothing else, a sign that he's getting more comfortable. They'd also stopped in that the Chinese restaurant and bought dozens of fortune cookies, the hostess had been very confused, but Steve learned that night that Phil can be very charming when he wants to be, and they'd left with a free box of noodles each to go with their fortune cookies.
Come Saturday, Phil spends the morning doing homework, and monitoring Steve's progress in preparing everything to be cooked. Peeling and chopping are two tasks Steve is mostly able to manage. As the time for Jim to arrive draws closer, Phil quietens down, but Steve thinks it's because he's concentrating on cooking. Watching him cook is nothing like it had been watching his wife. She'd almost glided through the kitchen airily drifting from task to task with no real plan, where Phil seems to approach it with a war like mentality; everything is planned down to the little details. It amuses Steve to watch Phil watching things on the stove, or checking on things in the oven, a little crinkle of concentration between his eyebrows.
"Can you make the tea?" Phil asks after awhile.
"The what?" Steve comes over to where Phil is standing, stirring a pot of sauce vigorously.
"There's no Asian alcohol in the store here, but there was green tea. You're just gonna have to forgo beer tonight." Phil smiles, and Steve sighs, but he can't help the smile on his face. Jim's not going to be impressed with the lack of a cold one, but maybe once Phil's gone to finish his homework, he and Jim will have a bottle of the IPA Steve has in the fridge.
"Alright, chef, I'm on it."
"I have to admit, Steve, I've been thinking about young Philip's steak all month." Jim laughs when he arrives. "Smells mighty good in here... I'm beginning to get jealous that I don't take kids in anymore." Steve takes Jim's coat and hat, hanging them up for him.
"Ha, well Phil's a hell of a cook." Steve chuckles, and Jim nods.
"I'm mighty jealous that you can eat that steak any time you like." Jim smiles, nods to Philip once they get to the kitchen.
"Ain't no steak tonight, JR." Steve pulls out a chair for Jim, and goes over to Phil, returning the slight smirk on Phil's face with one of his own.
"Oh, c'mon now, Steve! I'm an old friend! You can surely spring for a steak for me." The man grumbles, and Steve laughs, carrying over the first course, setting it in front of Jim. "What's this?" The older man asks, looking confused, realising there's only chopsticks on the table.
"Well, we thought to educate your palate a little, Mr Ross." Phil pours out three cups of tea, and takes his seat, thanking Steve for the plate of food that's set down in front of him.
"Phil here is a fine chef, and I don't want you to be thinking I'm not giving him the opportunity to explore other cuisines." Steve picks up the chopsticks, easily manipulating them, transporting food to his mouth with no fuss, unlike Jim, who is struggling.
"I'm all for exploring, but damn it Steve, teach me how to use these damn things." Jim grumbles, Phil laughs, and Steve gets to play at teacher.
"Well, Steve... I have to say that was a very different kid tonight." Jim sips at his IPA, a contented smile on his face, and several fortunes in front of him. Steve nods, Phil was more himself tonight, more like the kid he's been all month. It's a relief that Phil's finally letting himself be himself more. It's been a good month really, and Steve can only hope it continues.
"He's finding his feet still, but we're getting there." Steve smiles, swilling his beer around.
"So, I can tell you've not read the folder I gave you." Jim frowns, and Steve shrugs. He's not read it; it's sitting on the dresser, gathering dust.
"He said to ask him, and I will... When he's ready." Steve sips at his drink, considering when to ask, where is easy. It seems out on the boat is the best place to ask Phil awkward questions.
"How did you get him to relax?" Jim asks, finishing his beer, taking another fortune cookie. "Tomorrow is your lucky day... Again, at this rate I'm gonna win the damn lottery tomorrow." Jim laughs, and hands Steve the fortune.
"Took him fishing." Steve takes the little slip of paper, and hopes that it's right. He wants tomorrow to be a good day for Phil if nothing else.
"Fishing? Well, it worked I'll give you that. Where's his room? I got a little something for him." Jim stands, straightening his clothes.
"Just look for Hershey, she's gotten very attached to Phil." Steve stands too, ambling along behind his friend to Phil's room.
"Knock, knock." Jim calls, standing outside Phil's room. In the room, Phil's sprawled on the floor, his math homework on the floor in front of him, but his attention is mostly on sketching Hershey, as she lies napping on the bed.
"Mr Ross?" Phil sits up, looking surprised, and the old man comes into the room, fishing a large white envelope out of his coat pocket.
"I'm never sure what to get people, but I think you'll find a use for it." He smiles, and Phil stares at the envelope.
"I can't, sir... I mean it wouldn't-"
"Nonsense, Phil. Sixteen's an important age." Jim laughs passing the envelope to Phil.
"So I'm told." He mutters, grinning at Steve, and taking the envelope from Jim. "Thank you, Mr Ross." He looks incredibly, genuinely grateful. "Are you leaving? Did Steve remember to give you your cookies?" Phil stands, and Steve frowns, he'd hoped Phil wouldn't remember the batch of cookies he'd bagged up for Jim and his wife. There's a greedy part of Steve that wants to keep them for himself, this latest batch are particularly delicious and he doesn't much want to share.
"No he did not." Jim laughs, and Steve sighs.
"I'll get them." By the time he's back, Jim and Phil are by the front door, Phil laughing at something Jim's said, and Steve can't help but feel proud of himself. A month ago, Phil had been a nervous wreck because of Jim being here, now he's laughing at what was probably an incredibly embarrassing story about Steve. "One bag of cookies." Jim takes them, peeking inside the bag, and grinning at Phil.
"I'm not sure how many of these are going to make it to my wife, Phil. They smell good." The old man claps Phil's shoulder, making the kid tense up, but it's only briefly. "Happy birthday for tomorrow, son."
"Thank you, sir." Phil nods, and moves to leave. "I really should finish this homework if I want to enjoy it though. Drive safe, Mr Ross." Jim nods, and Phil leaves.
"What?" Steve frowns at the expression on Jim's face. It's something Steve's never seen, something curiously fond.
"He's a good kid, Steve. I knew you'd be the best place for him." The old man pulls Steve into a hug. "You make sure to keep taking him fishing." He laughs and leaves a slightly confused Steve staring and waving him goodbye.
"Okay, Miss Hershey, you watch Phil do this all the time. If I'm going wrong let me know." Steve whispers to the dog, getting a confused look from her. He's been practicing all week, and he thinks he has this down, but there's still the chance it could all go wrong. Somehow, though he pulls it off, and when he knocks on Phil's door, bringing him breakfast in bed, the kid looks utterly bewildered.
"Steve?" He groans sitting up, rubbing sleep from his too big, too green eyes. It's times like this that Phil looks nowhere near his age, he's a cute little kid really, all eyes and confusion.
"Morning." Steve grins, and hands Phil his plate of pancakes. The ones in Phil's stack are the best, the least burnt of the batch. The crispiest were fed to Hershey, and the others are sitting in the kitchen for Steve to consume. "Wait there, I've got coffee for you." Steve comes back with a mug of coffee for Phil, and sets it down on the little nightstand by the bed. "You get a good sleep?" He considers watching Phil eat, or leaving him to it and eating in the kitchen. Phil nods, but frowns at Steve.
"Aren't you eating with me?" He asks, and Steve laughs, going and getting his own food, perching on the end of Phil's bed trying to ignore Hershey's covetous gaze aimed at his pancakes.
"So, Mr Birthday Boy, what d'you wanna do today?" Steve asks once breakfast is finished, and Phil glances up at him.
"I dunno... I wanna call my best friend back in Chicago, but other than that I got no idea." He frowns slightly, and stretches out in bed.
"Well, I've no objections to you using the phone, it's in the hall." Once upon a time the phone bill was astronomical with the amount of out of State calls that were made, that it'll be almost nice to have one unexpectedly large bill for a change.
"Thanksss." Phil grins, hissing the S for no reason Steve can see, and sets his empty plate down on the floor for Hershey to lick the butter from. "It's good for her coat, makes it all shiny." He justifies before Steve can even think to say anything.
"Well... How about we go out catch some lunch, head home for cake and presents. Then you can call your friend, and pick which delivery place is bringing your birthday dinner?" Steve suggests, and Phil grins, half-getting out of bed.
"Sounds like an incredible idea. I'll get dressed." Steve grabs the dirty dishes, Hershey trailing along behind him.
"Well, Miss Hershey, so far so good, right?" Steve asks the dog, and she huffs at him, flopping dramatically to the floor. "Oh, don't sulk. You'll get some cake, and don't we always give you fish from the fire?" It's about the only cooking Steve can do, fish on sticks roasted over a fire. Phil does seem fond of it though, every time they've gone to catch breakfast up at the lake it's been that, and Phil devours more than his own catch quite happily.
Their time on the boat yielded a far bigger catch than usual, Phil crowing that it had to be because it was his birthday, and Steve didn't argue, but he thought it might be because of the fortune cookie fortune Jim had given him yesterday. They'd eaten what they could, and took the rest home to turn into fish cookies for Hershey.
"Okay, close your eyes." Steve insists, drawing the blinds in the kitchen, making the sixteen little candles on the cake seem brighter.
"Do I get to make a wish?" Phil asks, his hands over his eyes, and Steve laughs at him.
"Course you do, but before you ask, I'm not singing to you." Steve sets the cake down carefully, hoping Phil likes it. It's a plain thing, white frosting with Happy Birthday Phil in red on it, the candles are all blue, and Steve wonders if Phil will notice that they're the same shade of blue as the Chicago flag. It's not a big thing, but the idea had pleased Steve.
"Spoilsport." Phil laughs at him, a smile on his face.
"Open your eyes." Phil does, and the smile on his face gets bigger. "Blow them out then."
"Huh? Oh... Yeah." Phil blows the candles out, and smiles up at Steve. "Thank you... I... No, just thank you, Steve this-"
"Here, knife." Steve opens the blinds and pours two cups of coffee, coming back over, sitting opposite Phil. "Is it good?" Phil's already cut two slices and is half way through his own. He doesn't answer, he just nods, a happy little look on his face. "Well, I'm glad." Steve sips his coffee, and then stands again, going to fetch Phil's presents. Earlier in the week a parcel had arrived addressed to Steve, inside there'd been a brightly wrapped present and a little letter from Phil's best friend back in Chicago. Over the course of the week, another present had arrived, another little letter explaining this one was from Phil's not sisters. Steve had called Jim to confirm that these people did exist, and that they weren't connected with whatever it was Phil had been sent away from, and the old man had confirmed it was all okay. Steve's more than glad that it's not going to only be his present Phil has to open today. Sixteen is a big birthday; it's an important year in a kid's life.
"Is she allowed cake?" Phil calls, his eyes widening when Steve comes back with his arms filled with presents. "You didn't buy all that did you?" Phil looks horrified, and Steve shakes his head.
"Some mail arrived for you." He hands Phil Jim's envelope first, and sets the others on the table to be opened on Phil's whim.
"Holy shit..." Phil whispers when he pulls the card out of the envelope. "I can't take this. I knew I couldn't take this." He closes the card, setting it on the table.
"What is it?" Steve asks, trying to see, but realising its futile as Phil's closed the card.
"A hundred dollars... I can't take that from him." Steve laughs, and Phil looks at him distressed.
"Phil, he wanted you to have it, so spend it on something you like, okay?" Steve smiles, hoping the expression is kind, because he wants Phil to feel better about this. "Here this one next, it's from the owl lady in the art store." He hands Phil the pencil that the old lady had given him, and Phil laughs.
"This is a good pencil." He smiles happily at Steve, then examines the pencil more closely. "Expensive one too... I'm gonna feel terrible after this... I'm gonna need to write so many thank yous and make Mr Ross steak next month."
"You need more cake, it makes everything better." Steve laughs, watching Phil cut three more slices, picking the frosting off one slice before setting it down for Hershey. She licks Phil's cheek, and then devours the cake as quickly as possible. "Jim'll be happy with steak, and owl lady wants you to go see her... She's your art teacher's mother." Phil looks up, his eyes huge in his pale face. "She thinks her daughter's a fruit loop too, wants to teach you technique." Steve grins, and Phil smiles slightly, busying himself with eating his cake. "Three left. This one's from someone called Scott, this one's from your sisters. And this one is from me." Steve points to the three packages, and Phil grabs the one from Scott first, laughing when he's pulled it open.
"I've missed my hat." He laughs, putting the beat-up Chicago Cubs cap on. "I've felt naked without it." He grins, and Steve shakes his head. "Scott's my best friend... He knows me pretty well." Phil explains, taking the parcel from his sisters next. It feels strangely to Steve like his present is being saved for last. The present Phil opens reveals several items of clothing, including an old faded hoodie. Phil smiles fondly at it, pulling it on, zipping it up, a happy smile spreading over his lips.
"It looks like they sent you presents of stuff you already owned." Steve smiles awkwardly, clearly, these things mean a lot to Phil, clearly they have good memories associated with them, and he's happy that they're back in Phil's possession.
"I should call them on giving me the same presents twice actually." Phil smiles, and takes the last present.
"Open it already." Steve laughs, he feels nervous for no real good reason, and Phil nods, opening the parcel and grinning broadly.
"Steve, this is the best thing anyone's given me." He smiles. "Thank you so much, so very much."
"It's nothing, Phil." But it really doesn't feel like nothing, not when Phil is looking at Steve like that, his eyes filled with earnest gratitude. No one has ever looked at Steve like that before, and he can only hope that he can get that expression once more at Christmas, because it feels incredible to be on the receiving end of that expression.
"I should... I mean, do you mind if I call my sisters too?" Phil asks, holding the bundle of art supplies Steve gave him to his chest, looking like he's almost afraid someone will try and take them from him.
"Knock yourself out. I'll head out to check the cattle, give you some privacy." Steve stands, and looks at Hershey, the dog sighs as she stands, she'd clearly been hoping for more cake.
When Steve gets back to the ranch house a few hours later, Phil's still on the phone, sitting cross-legged on the floor, laughing at whatever is being said to him.
"No, I should get going though... I've been on the phone for hours!" He laughs again, and Steve smiles. He's glad Phil's laughing more, it really is a good laugh that he has. "No, I'm going... No! Well, kind of, shut up! I hate you!" He laughs, and there's a pause where Steve assumes Phil's listening to the other person talk. "I told you... He's a nice guy, and yes, I'm trying, but it's hard... I mi-" Phil's friend clearly cut him off, and there's a soft chuckle. "Okay, say hi to them for me. Bye, yeah, bye, okay, bye, yes, okay, goodbye... I'm really hanging up now. Okay, okay, yeah, yeah, you too alright. Bye."
"You speak to everyone and did you pick for dinner?" Steve calls, and Phil appears at the door. There's a big smile on his face, and Steve smiles back at him.
"Pizza, I order it to be delivered at about six. It might have be-"
"Good man, Phil. So what you wanna watch? We got all night, and I don't think there's much to do but eat pizza, drink all this soda and watch something good." Steve smiles at Phil, he's beyond happy Phil had already ordered, had thought to place the order with a specific delivery time; he really is a smart kid. He wanders through to the living room, taking his spot on the couch and Steve takes the easy chair, tossing Phil the remote. "This is yours today, use it wisely."
They sit and watch TV for hours, Phil making some very sound choices on what looks good and what looks terrible, and Steve is pleased. It's getting close to bedtime, Phil yawning every so often, making Hershey, then Steve yawn in turn.
"Steve?" Phil says quietly, he sounds sleepy, looks even sleepier when Steve turns to look at him.
"Uh-huh?" Steve asks, watching him stand, rubbing at his eyes, looking impossibly young as he yawns. It's hard to believe that he's sixteen, that today is his sixteenth birthday.
"There's one other thing I'd like for my birthday." He smiles awkwardly; like this is something he's been thinking about far too much and has almost talked himself out of.
"What's that?" Steve sits up a little straighter, wondering what the kid could want.
"My friends..." He looks away, focusing on the floor. "They don't call me Phil." He says, finally meeting Steve's eyes. "They call me Punk, so I'd like for you to call me that, okay?" He smiles, something timid and uncertain in his expression.
"Sure thing, Punkster." Phil laughs, and Steve grins at him. "You don't mind that, right?"
"No... I don't think I do." He smiles, and this time it's the biggest, brightest smile Steve's ever seen on his face. The kid really does look so much better when he smiles. "G'night Steve." He shuffles up to Steve, and the hug he gives him is as precious to Steve as it is awkward.
"G'night Punkster." He mumbles, watching Hershey follow along after Phil. In his mind he's dancing a little victory dance, in his mind he can hear his wife laughing.
See my rattlesnake, you just have to wait him out. Just you wait, and he'll come to you.
Many thanks to the ladies and gentlemen who reviewed:
plebs, AshJoivillette, InYourHonour, littleone1389, Brokenspell77, Shiki94, and Rebellecherry.
Your reviews have all been very encouraging - I apologise for the delay on this chapter and hope it was somewhat worth the wait. This fic is a labour of love... It takes a while to write a chapter, there's a lot of stuff (usually during the weeks stuff) that gets written only to be discarded for being nothing but padding what is already pretty comfortable. I hope the wait isn't too irritating for you beloved readers! I once more apologise.
Guess what I've not done since I was fifteen and drunk? If you guessed fishing, you were correct! As ever I'm nervous about this one, so if there's anything incredibly squiffy PM me and lemme know, okay? :)
Needless to say... I'm more than interested in your thoughts, so please review!