Warnings: AU, Implied Child Abuse, Mild Profanity. Eventual Warnings: Slash (Stone Cold Steve Austin/CM Punk), Smut, Age difference.
"So, when you wanna get a tree?" Steve has always liked Christmas, and usually on the first of December, he'd have already had the tree in the house, ready to let the kids have at it. Last year, even when it'd been just him and Hershey, he'd gone and cut a small tree down. The decorations had been pitiful, but you need a tree at Christmas. It just isn't Christmas without a tree.
"A tree?" Phil glances up from making breakfast, and shrugs. "I don't mind... Whenever, I guess."
"Aww, c'mon, Punkster. Christmas is important. Gotta have a tree, and lights... All that stuff." Steve pours tWo cups of coffee, sits on his chair, sipping at his cup as Phil plates up, and serves breakfast.
"It's never been a big deal for me." He starts eating, and Steve can feel a stab of anger in his gut. If Phil had never had a proper birthday celebration before, it's hardly surprising he's never had a real Christmas.
"Well... I'll get a tree in the middle of the week. Decorating can commence on the weekend." Steve says firmly, and Phil shakes his head with a look of indulgent amusement on his face. This Christmas, Steve decides, is going to be special, he's going to make it perfect for Phil, the kid deserves that at least.
When the weekend rolls around, Steve gets himself up early, early enough to beat even Phil out of bed. He has to admit he's excited. He'd spent all week pulling boxes out of storage and sorting through the decorations to Phil's increasing bemusement. The arrival of the tree, in its bucket waiting for its decorating had at least sparked something in Phil; there'd been the hint of something like glee on his face. Steve's noticed him sitting staring at the undecorated tree, an odd faraway look in his eyes more than once.
Phil wanders into the kitchen, his hair a bedraggled mess, still wearing his pyjamas, and Steve smirks at him as he stares wide-eyed and confused at Steve.
"You're up early." Phil yawns, shuffling around to the fridge, opening the door, and hiding behind it. "What you want for breakfast?" He emerges with the orange juice bottle, and pours himself a glass, drinking it down quickly.
"Course I'm up early, there's a lot of work to be done, Punkster. Whatever you wanna make is fine with me." Steve pours out a couple of cups of coffee, setting one down on the counter closest to Phil. "You sure you don't wanna head back to bed? You look pretty tired there." Steve almost reaches out to tilt Phil's face up to him, but he wisely stops his hand before it makes contact with Phil. There's no doubt that the kid wouldn't appreciate the touch.
"I'm good... You really take this Christmas business seriously, huh?" Phil seems more awake for having drunk his juice, but the dark smudges under his eyes are more than a little concerning. A kid shouldn't look so very tired all the time, and those dark rings are almost permanent parts of Phil's face.
"Of course, it's serious business, Punkster." Steve grins at him, and Phil nods absently.
"So where do we start? I've seen the boxes..." Phil smiles, and Steve considers, he thinks that the yard is a good place to start really. It'll get them out of the house, leaving it for when it's later in the day. It's always better to decorate the house in the evening.
It takes them all of the daylight hours of Saturday to get the yard and the outside of the house up to Steve's exacting standards, but once they're finished, even Phil looks impressed. It looks like slightly odd, all the festive cheer in a Texan winter, but Steve's always liked the lights, and models that make up his Christmas lawn ornaments.
"How'd you think it'll look at night?" Phil asks, an oddly satisfied look on his face as he twists one statue of an angel slightly around to the left.
"Well, once it's dark out, we'll switch them on and see." Steve grins, and Phil nods. He actually looks almost excited, and Steve can't help the rush of pride that fills him. "C'mon, feed me, chef. I'm hungry, and we've work to do inside."
"Yeah, yeah..." Phil's mutter sounds more amused than anything else, and for that Steve is more than grateful.
"Well, I'd say we did a good job, Punkster." Steve thinks he's probably standing too close to Phil for the kid to be comfortable, but he really is impressed with their work. After dinner, they'd gotten straight to decorating, and now the house is a festive wonderland. Lights, garlands, sparkling, shimmering ornaments hanging all over the place, and the piece de resistance is the tree. Steve had been surprised when Phil had basically taken over decorating it. He clearly had a creative vision, and had been working to see it fulfilled. It's possibly the prettiest tree Steve's ever seen.
"Yeah... I think so." Phil turns to Steve with a grin, and glances outside at the darkening night. "I need to get the chickens. I'll lock them up for the night, then come and make hot chocolate, then we can see how the yard looks all lit up, right?" There's a hint of pleading in Phil's tone, and Steve nods, he sees no flaws in Phil's plan, in fact, it sounds like the perfect idea to him.
Sunday is spent writing, with the Christmas classics on the stereo. Phil it turns out knows a lot of them, and has a rather sweet habit of singing along when he's distracted. More times than Steve could count, he was treated to an impromptu duet between Bing or Andy and Phil. The kid has a nice voice, a little reedy maybe, but not bad, one that Steve listened to quite happily for hours.
The week after the decorating, Phil seems to descend into an odd mood. He's not sullen, but he's certainly quiet. There's something on his mind that has his attention, even as they sit running lines, he seems not quite all there. So come Saturday Steve announces that they're going out to the lake. Phil had nodded vaguely, clearly not really paying all that much attention.
"So, what's eating you, Punkster?" Steve asks, and Phil laughs, shaking his head as he watches the end of his line. They've been out on the lake for maybe an hour and nothing has been biting. They'll go hungry this afternoon at this rate.
"I'm going away for a couple of weeks, over Christmas. I spoke to Jim about it, and he says its okay." Phil doesn't look at him, and really Steve kind of grateful for that. He'd been planning Christmas with Phil, had been thinking about what to get him, but he's not going to be at home, well not at the ranch at least.
"Where you off to?" Steve wonders if he sounds as disappointed as he feels, because he does feel disappointed. He'd wanted to have Phil there for Christmas, had wanted to give him the kind of Christmas he'd probably never had.
"My friend's... Scott? You remember I've told you about him. He's going to see family out of Illinois, and I miss him." There's a fond little lilt to Phil's voice, a fond little smile on his face. It's an expression he always wears on the rare occasions when he talks about his not sisters and his friend Scott. These people clearly mean the World to him, and there's a part of Steve that wants to invite them to the ranch, to hell with what their plans are, he'd like a house full of people Phil loves around for Christmas, it'd be so much better than just him and Hershey again this year.
"Well, you have a good time, Punkster." Steve forces himself to sound happy, forces himself sound like he's okay with this, but he's not. He knows he should be, but he's going to miss Phil, and that's what it all comes down to, he's gotten used to having Phil in the house, in his life. If he's gone, even for a little while, Steve's not sure what it'll be like, but if nothing else, it'll be a good test-run for when Phil goes for good in the Summer. Punk looks over at Steve, something strange in his eyes, and Steve forces his smile to be brighter, tries for more sincere.
"Will you be okay on your own?" Phil asks softly, the happiness in his voice shrivelling up and dying. Steve nods, but the look in those far too big, far too perceptive eyes makes it clear that he's not getting away with pretending to be fine with Phil.
"I'll be okay. I'm sure me and Hershey will manage with you gone. Don't worry, we'll be fine." Steve smiles again, and this time it feels sincere. He wants Phil to have a good time, he wants him to enjoy his break, he certainly doesn't want Phil being unhappy because of him. "Course Christmas dinner will be toast, but it was last yea-"
"I didn't think..." Phil interrupts suddenly, turning to Steve once more. "I can canc-"
"No!" Steve laughs hoping to take the edge off of the harshness of the tone he just used, the wince that Phil had given because of it making him feel awful. "No..." Steve knocks Phil's foot with his own, drawing Phil's attention to him. "I always liked Christmas the most. She... My wife, she was never that bothered by it, but I loved it." Phil looks confused, and Steve thinks now is a good time to talk about her with Phil. It might seem inappropriate, initially it might look like this is a tale to persuade Phil to stay, but it's the opposite. This tale should make it easier for Phil to go spend time with the people he loves. "Every year I'd go pretend to be Santa at the Junior School concert."
"Buffest Santa ever." Phil mutters under his breath, and Steve laughs, lightly clapping Phil's shoulder.
"I was far buffer back then, but I wasn't in the midst of a cookie addiction." There's that hint of a blush on Phil's cheeks again, but Steve chooses to ignore it in favour of keeping telling his story. "So, when we found out we couldn't have kids, I was... Well I was real upset. I'd always wanted to go the whole nine yards with Christmas for my kids." Steve squeezes Phil's shoulder, and takes his hand away. Its nice how much more relaxed Phil is now, especially when it comes to physical contact. He'd almost seemed to be leaning into Steve touch, almost seemed to try and chase his hand as he'd withdrawn it. "Lights on the roof, fake snow in the yard... All that shit, but kids weren't for us, you know." Phil makes an agreeing noise, and Steve glances over at him, taking note of the odd look on his face, something tightly unhappy. "So we decided to adopt."
"What happened there?" Phil asks, he sounds like he's nothing more than interested, and Steve smiles slightly, remember his wife coming to him all excited at the idea of helping dozens and dozens of kids instead of just one or two.
"We met Jim." Steve laughs, and Phil nods, reeling in the first fish he's managed to catch all morning. "The first year, that Christmas we had maybe four kids, the youngest was all of five. The oldest was your age... I put on my Santa outfit, left presents on the end of their beds... Christmas morning, the little one was up first telling everyone who she'd seen Santa sneaking around." Steve smiles at the memory. The little girl, Maria, had been sent to them because her mother had gone to prison on drug trafficking charges, now she's a little older than Phil, doing real well, at least by the sounds of her letters. "The oldest, well he'd been a real tearaway, tried to runaway three times in the first month, but that Christmas he sat and played with the little ones. He works in a middle school somewhere up north now. Good kid." The turnaround in that kid after that Christmas had been incredible, but Christmas is always a time for miracles. "Every year after that Christmas was an excuse for me to get the Christmas I'd always wanted as a kid."
"You didn't have good Christmases?" Phil busies himself with fixing a new worm to his hook, Steve hadn't really noticed, but Phil had been sitting staring at him the whole time he'd been talking.
"My family were... Not poor, but Christmas wasn't really special you know? Just something small... I always wanted it to be this big event. I always wanted a white Christmas. Every year I'd pray for snow." Phil laughs, and Steve snorts at him, bumping against his shoulder. "I know, I know, not likely in Texas, but I was a kid."
"I'm pretty used to white Christmases... It's weird it being winter and not having to wear all my clothes at once." Phil laughs, and Steve nods. It might not be cold, but it's not stopped Phil from living in that Cubs cap and beat-up hoodie. "I'm never at my parents' place for Christmas... Scott, he's Jewish, so I'd go there, and it's just another normal day for them, well it's in the middle of Hanukah, but you know no big deal. My sisters' mom though, she'd always ask me over for dinner, and Scott'd tag along, and we'd eat and eat and eat, and she'd always give us presents. I don't think my parents ever noticed I wasn't there." Phil sighs and casts his line. "I don't... I don't know... I guess I kind of like spending Christmas with the people I know love me, you know?"
"That why you wanna go see them?" Steve asks, that was the longest Phil's ever said about his life in Chicago, and as with every other little thing about Phil's parents Steve's heard, it makes him want to gut them. He's glad Phil had his friends, his not sisters, but the people who should love him the most just don't, and it infuriates Steve.
"Yeah, pretty much... You sure you're gonna be okay on your own? Won't it remind you of last year?" Phil glances over at Steve, and whatever expression is on Steve's face holds Phil's attention. "Steve." He says softly, his hand resting on Steve's shoulder. "I can stay if you like." He says quietly, and Steve shakes his head.
"Oh no, you're going to go, and you're going to have a good time. I'll be fine, Punkster, don't worry about me. I've got Hershey to keep me company." He smiles, and Phil nods, a tight little gesture.
"I'll call you." He says firmly, and Steve laughs, very gently resting his hand on Phil's squeezing briefly, before taking his rod back up, and turning back to the water. Phil's fingers press against his shoulder for the briefest moment, before he sighs. "This stupid play is on Monday... You gonna be able to come? I asked the Owl, and she seems pretty keen..."
"Course, wouldn't miss it! Your big acting debut? I'll be there, I'll even film it." Steve laughs, and Phil groans, setting his rod down, and fishing his lines from the pocket in his hoodie.
"Run these with me again will you?" He asks, and Steve takes the paper. He thinks he knows this damned play as well as Phil by now, if the kids that feed Phil's lines get sick, Steve will be able to fill in for them at this rate.
Come Monday Steve has to admit he's excited. He's never been to one of these school plays before, and it's with a mixture of pride and trepidation that he takes a seat by the Owl, nods a greeting to her.
"Well, Steve... Did you manage to help our Philip learn his lines? He's been twittering like a little bird about it for the last few lessons. I never had him down as the worrying type, but he certainly has been distracted." The Owl smiles, and Steve nods.
"Don't you worry, Mrs Davis, he'll be just fine." Steve smiles, leafing through the program that was sitting on the chair.
"It's a nice picture isn't it?" The Owl sounds strangely proud, and Steve supposes that the picture of Phil in the program is pretty good. It's certainly far better than the last picture Steve saw of him.
"Very handsome." Steve agrees absently, flicking through the rest of the pages, and the Owl laughs.
"He'll certainly be a heartbreaker in a few years." She offers Steve a bag of hard candies as the lights dim, and a hush falls over the room.
"How'd I do?" Is the first thing out of Phil's mouth when the play is finished. Steve can't help the grin on his face. Phil's still in costume, a huge beaming smile, and a bright happy light in his eyes. He looks pleased with himself, and Steve has to admit he has good reason to be, he's a natural storyteller, he'd looked damn good on stage, far better than his cast-mates, in Steve's opinion.
"You did good, Punkster." Steve tells him, and is utterly taken aback when Phil hugs him tightly, almost whispering thank you to him.
"I was very impressed too, you know." The Owl chimes in, and Phil lets go of Steve quickly, and turns to her with a laugh.
"Gloria? You came? I didn't think you would!" He starts chattering to the Owl, and Steve shakes his head. He'd known that Phil and the Owl would get on well, but to be on first name basis, for her to be someone Phil had clearly been so invested in watching him is a surprise. "I should go get changed..." Phil sounds like the last thing he wants to do is leave though, he seems incredibly happy in that moment.
"Well, Mrs Davis, I was planning on feeding this one in town tonight... It'd be my great honour to have you dine with us." Steve pours on the charm, and the Owl laughs at him easily.
"Two handsome gentlemen and dinner? What lady could say no? Go get changed little brat, I know just the place to eat." She turns to Phil, and he nods, scampering off. "You really didn't have to invite me." She says calmly, and Steve smiles at her, letting her take his arm when she stands.
"Well, I have the feeling that Phil's gonna be talking a mile a minute, giving him a bigger audience is only gonna be a good thing." Steve mutters, joining in with the Owl's laughter.
"He is a chatty little thing once he gets going, isn't he?" She sounds desperately fond of Phil, and Steve nods, Phil does sometimes ramble on, but it's not a bad thing, it's a wonderful thing in the face of the sullen silence that he'd come to Texas with.
"Mom!" There's a horrified sounding voice, and a tall pointy woman appears in front of them. Steve supposes this is Phil's art teacher. "What are you doing here?" The woman hisses, and Steve glances over at the Owl, who's straightened herself up, almost puffing herself up like a wild animal trying to appear bigger in the face of a threat.
"I am here to support my dear student, Cynthia." She snaps, and the other woman almost withers.
"Your student?" She mutters, and at that moment, Phil appears, looking miserable at the appearance of his art teacher. "Mr Brooks?" Phil winces when she calls him that, and Steve has to bite his cheek to keep from giving this woman a tongue-lashing.
"Cynthia!" The Owl has not such restraint it seems. "You will not talk to my students in such a tone." The old woman almost snarls at her daughter, and Phil's art teacher ducks her head.
"Sorry, mom." She mumbles, and Steve can feel a rush of fondness for the old woman on his arm. "You were very good on stage, Philip." The art teacher says in a far politer tone, and Phil nods awkwardly.
"Thank you Ms Davis." He says quietly, and the Owl takes Phil's arm, patting his hand.
"Now, gentlemen, let's go." She says smugly, leading them past her daughter. "Honestly... That girl, I was sure I'd raised her better than that." She mutters just loud enough for her daughter, still standing down the corridor, to hear. Steve meets Phil's eye over the Owl's head, and smiles at him, getting an oddly tentative, but happy one in return.
Over dinner, Phil and the Owl engage in a long rambling conversation about art, most of which Steve doesn't understand, but he's more than happy to let them talk. It's kind of nice to just watch, it's good to see Phil relaxed, and happy. The old woman has a clear soft spot for Phil, and it's kind of obvious that Phil has one for her. It's rather like she's somehow installed herself as some kind of surrogate grandmother for him.
Once they've dropped the Owl at home, Phil sits up front with Steve, a softly contented smile on his face.
"You're pretty good at the whole acting thing, Punkster." Steve smiles over at Phil, watching a slight blush spreading over his cheeks.
"Nah... Not really." Phil mutters, ducking his head slightly, but that sweet little smile is still on his face. Steve laughs at him, and Phil turns to him sharply.
"Modesty will get you nowhere." Steve tells him, and Phil laughs, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm proud of you... You did good." Steve tells him firmly, and Phil nods, but says nothing, instead he sits quietly as they head home, that little smile on his face the whole way.
When Steve opens the front door, Hershey bounds past him, practically tackling Phil to the ground, licking his face enthusiastically.
"Hello Hershey. Did you miss me today or something?" Phil laughs, rubbing at her sides. "You missed my on-stage debut, but I'm sure you'd have been incredibly bored." Hershey doesn't seem to be listening or inclined to let Phil up, she's settled on top of him, giving his face happy little licks every so often.
"You know, she's very attached to you." Steve says offhandedly, watching Phil trying and failing at getting up from under the dog.
"She's a good dog. Aren't you, Hershey? Yes, you are, a good girl, very clever, aren't you?" Phil's clearly not all that bothered by being pinned by the dog, so Steve leaves them to it, heading off to lock the chickens up for the night.
"That's my job!" Phil shouts after him, and Steve waves him off. He's not going to interrupt the emotional reunion. Hershey missed her little charge, and she's clearly not going to let Phil up until she's certain he's not going to be gone for an unexpectedly long time again. How she's going to manage when Phil's gone for Christmas Steve isn't sure, but if he's honest there's a little part of him that's not sure how he's going to manage.
School finishes up on Thursday, Phil tells him the next morning, and Steve nods, glancing quickly at the calendar, realising that's his birthday. He'd forgotten until that moment, and almost considers telling Punk about it, but decides against it. It's nothing important, despite the fuss he'd made over Phil's birthday; Steve's never been overly fond of his own. It's always been far too much hassle for something so very unimportant.
Come Thursday morning, a soft knock on his bedroom door wakes Steve up, and standing there, is a nervous looking Phil, in his hands is a tray covered with food.
"Uh... Happy Birthday?" He sounds as nervous as he looks, and Steve sits up groggily, grinning at the kid.
"Now, how the hell did you know it was my birthday?" Steve never did tell him, and had expected this year to pass by uncelebrated as it had last year, but somehow, someway Phil had found out.
"I asked Jan..." He hands Steve the tray, and goes quickly back to stand by the door, his eyes downcast, a pale blush on his cheeks. "I uh... I'm... Happy Birthday." Phil turns on his tail, and vanishes down the corridor. Steve glances at Hershey who's sitting by the bed looking at him, hoping for some of the delicious smelling food on the tray.
"Well, what's up with him?" He asks the dog, and scratches an itch on his chest, wondering if he should have warned Phil he tended to sleep naked.
By the time Steve's downstairs, Phil's already ready for school, looking like he's planning on heading out to catch the bus for his last day before the holidays.
"I might have to have birthdays more often if I can get such good breakfasts in bed." Steve laughs as he drops the dirty dishes off in the kitchen, grinning at Phil. The kid looks fidgety, there's a strange blush on his cheeks, and Steve shakes his head, not really sure what to do with himself.
"You have anything planned for your birthday?" Phil mumbles, not looking at Steve, instead he's fussing with his clothes, and Steve laughs.
"Nope, not a thing, well nothing out of the ordinary at least. There's plenty to be done, you know." Phil nods at Steve's words, and glances up at the clock in the kitchen.
"I need to go... I'll be back late, lesson with the Owl... I can cancel though... I mean, if you want me to make something special or something..." Phil definitely sounds nervous and Steve isn't sure why in the least.
"I'll heat up some soup, and you can make grilled cheese." Steve steps a little closer to Phil, trying to catch the kid's eye. There's something playing on his mind, and Steve wants to get to the bottom of it quickly, but it's really not the time or place for that.
"Doesn't sound like a very special birthday dinner..." Phil trails off, looking up finally, an odd little smile on his face. "I'll do something nice tomorrow." He grins, and Steve nods. He had the feeling Phil would want to do something nice before he left on Saturday. Steve's really not sure how he and Hershey are going to manage for the two weeks Phil's going to be gone, but he supposes they'll manage. They did okay on their own last year, and they'll do okay on their own this year too.
"It's not much, but I do have a little present for you." Phil says once he's back from his lesson with the Owl that evening. He wanders through to his bedroom, and comes back with a large wrapped box. Steve glances up from the soup he's heating on the stove to stare at the box. "Go on, open it, I'll take over dinner. You shouldn't be cooking on your birthday anyways." Phil starts making grilled cheese to go with the soup. Soup and sandwiches seems to have become their traditional day beginning with a "T" dinner, if only because after a full day of school, and then the two hours with the Owl tires Phil out.
"This is a mighty big box, Punkster." Steve mutters, regarding the carefully wrapped parcel.
"It's not much, but I wasn't sure what to get you..." Phil mutters, not looking up from cooking. Steve unwraps the parcel and chuckles.
"Well damn... This is a fine present." Steve laughs. Inside the box is a cookie, maybe a foot in diameter. It's possibly the greatest, and most terrible present Steve's ever been given.
"You like it?" Phil asks, pouring the soup into bowls, and cutting the sandwiches. "I wasn't sure if you would... I mean you keep saying you're getting fat, and I really don't think you are, I mean you look-" Phil cuts himself off, and carries the food to the table. "I couldn't see anything in the stores that you'd like, and I know you like those cookies, so I thought it'd be a good idea, and it doubles up as a cake." Phil smiles, and Steve sits down opposite Phil.
"It's a damn fine present. Thank you." Steve takes a bite of his sandwich, resisting the considerable allure of that monster of a cookie. He can already taste how good it'll be, and it's all for him. He glances up at Phil, watching him eat. Whatever has happened to him, it's not made him a bad person, an awkward nervous one, maybe, but at his core, Phil's a good person, a sweet considerate person. The more he thinks on it, the more Phil reminds him of his wife. She'd been good through and through, just like Phil. They'd have gotten on so very well.
After dinner, they sit and watch TV for a while, talking about nothing overly important. There's something lazy and comfortable between them, that and last of Phil's homemade chocolates, that Steve's sure have been topped up with more of the hard caramel ones he loves so much. Eventually, after Phil yawns for the third time, Steve decides it's probably time to head to bed, Phil won't go unless Steve's made it clear he's turning in himself for some strange reason.
"I'm calling it a night, Punkster." Steve says, standing. Phil gets up, and shuffles over to Steve, an odd look in his eyes, almost like he's steeling himself. The hug that Steve gets wrapped up in is utterly unexpected, and when Phil doesn't pull away for flinch when Steve returns the hug is a far better present than even the monstrous cookie. As Phil pulls away from Steve, he presses a tiny barely there kiss to Steve's cheek, turning away quickly, calling an oddly high-pitched goodnight with Hershey on his heels.
As he lies in bed that night, Steve longs to hear the voice of his wife, longs to hear her explain that peck of a kiss, but she and his mind are silent, they have nothing to tell him about it.
"We need to go to the store... I need to make sure you have enough food to last while I'm gone." Steve can't say he's surprised that Phil is awake; he's also not surprised that Phil isn't mentioning the kiss he gave Steve last night. He'd lain awake puzzling over that most of the night, but by the look of Phil, he'd slept well.
"You gonna make me up baggies of stew to reheat while you're gone, Punkster?" Steve laughs, starting a pot of coffee.
"Stew, soup, chilli, things you can stick in a pot and heat through. I don't want you living on nothing but toast. There's cookies in the box in the cupboard, try and ration them, but birthday cookie should last you a while." Phil mutters, dishing up breakfast.
"You're gonna be busy today then?" Steve laughs, and Phil shrugs. Steve isn't sure if he's happy or not that the kiss isn't going to be discussed. He's not sure what to make of it, and really, he thinks he shouldn't be so fixated on it, but he can't just let it go, because no one's kissed him, not even a peck on the cheek, in over a year. It might just be the way Phil is, he might just be an affectionate creature, and once he lets you in that's it, you'll get cuddles, and pecks on the cheek without thought. If that's the case, Steve doesn't think he'll mind overly.
"I guess so... Don't worry, I'll still make you a nice day after your birthday dinner. Pick something you like." Phil smiles up at Steve. It's clear that the only person who's on the back foot with the whole kissing thing is Steve, it's not bothering Phil in the least, so he'll have just deal with it himself.
"Anything I like... Might just pick more cookies." Steve laughs, breaking out the monster cookie, snapping some off, and handing a piece to Phil.
"Oh no, that's yours." Phil holds his hand up, refusing the cookie.
"C'mon, something this big has to be for sharing, Punkster." Steve insists, and Phil sighs relenting. "Is it good?"
"Steve... It's the same cookies I make almost every week." Phil laughs around a mouthful.
"Just making sure." Steve takes a bite, and resolutely closes the lid to the cookie's box. He has the terrible feeling that cookie won't be seeing Christmas, he's almost certain it won't be seeing Sunday.
Saturday morning, Steve almost doesn't want to get out of bed. There's a selfish part of him that doesn't want to drive Phil to the airport, it's a silly part that wants to keep Phil at home so they can have Christmas together, but he ignores it, and hauls his ass out from under the covers, pulling on his clothes quickly, and coming downstairs to silence. He'd expected Phil to be up and about, getting ready, maybe even making breakfast, but there's nothing. Something in Steve is suddenly utterly convinced that Phil's gone already, that he'd changed his travel plans and had Jim come pick him up. The urge to check to see if Phil's in his room is too strong to ignore so Steve doesn't even bother trying, going straight to the little room Phil sleeps in. The door is half open, and inside Steve can see Hershey curled up on the end of the bed. He pokes his head around the door, and smiles. Phil's fast asleep, half in bed, half out of it. It looks like he'd started getting up, and fallen back asleep halfway through. Steve glances at his watch, if they leave quickly, they'll be able to grab breakfast at the diner and still have time to make Phil's flight.
"Punkster?" Steve creeps into the room, and whispers softly, his hand hovering nervously over Phil's sleeping form. "C'mon, wakey-wakey." Steve very carefully shakes Phil's shoulder, getting an odd little sleepy snuffle from him, but nothing else. "C'mon." Steve shakes him a little more, but again Phil does nothing but squirm slightly. Steve shakes his head, and sighs, deciding to take a different approach. He approaches the sleeping Hershey and very quietly whispers rabbits go get 'em in her ear. Even asleep, the prospect of hunting has Hershey excited, and she leaps off the bed, jolting Phil awake. "Morning." Steve says dryly, and Phil blinks up at him, rubbing his eyes, looking cute.
"Morning?" He yawns, and Steve shakes his head, ruffling Phil's hair without really thinking about it.
"Morning, get dressed, we'll eat in town, but you'll need to hurry to make your flight." Steve leaves the room feeling strangely pleased. Phil hadn't flinched, hadn't shied from the casual contact that he didn't initiate, and it fills Steve with an odd sense of hope.
The whole ride to the airport from the diner Phil's silent, fidgeting and looking worried. Steve's not sure what to say to put him at ease. He and Hershey will be fine, and Phil will have a good time visiting his friend, it'll all be okay, Steve's sure of it.
"We don't have time to go fishing, so you wanna tell me what's up without a boat?" Steve asks, glancing at Phil out of the corner of his eye.
"I don't like flying, you're gonna ignore everything in the freezer and eat nothing but cookies, and I'm gonna miss Hershey." Phil seems to have rushed all of that out as quickly as he could, like he was afraid he'd back out if he didn't hurry it.
"Your flight will be fine, nothing'll happen. I solemnly promise to use every last bit of food you froze, and well... There's not much I can do for Hershey and you... She'll miss you too, if that helps any." Steve laughs, and Phil sighs.
"I guess... I'm just... I dunno." Phil runs a hand through his hair and sighs again. "I'm being an idiot. You're a grown-ass man, you don't need some kid worrying about you." Phil scowls out the window, and Steve stops the car on the side of the road. Phil turns to him in confusion.
"C'mere." Steve holds his arms out, and Phil blinks at him, looking utterly bewildered. Steve keeps his arms held out, knowing that this is what Phil needs. He's a tactile little thing, he needs comfort, words aren't working, but this will, Steve's sure of it. Slowly, tentatively Phil edges closer, and Steve wraps him up in a hug, not squeezing him, instead leaving it easy for him to break out of Steve's hold if he wants to, if he needs to. "We'll be fine, and when you're back, it'll be like you were never gone. The ranch is your home, Punkster... For as long as you need it, for as long as you want it, okay?" Steve can feel Phil's nod, and he squeezes him lightly. "There, good man." He lets Phil go, and watches him settle back on his side of the car with a little smile on his face.
When they get to the airport, Phil hops into the back of the car, saying goodbye to Hershey, as Steve takes his bag out, and stands there holding it, waiting for Phil.
"You all set?" Steve asks as they walk into the little terminal.
"Yeah, will... Are you going to pick me up?" Phil sounds nervous again, and Steve nods.
"Course I will, Miss Hershey will be there too." Steve laughs, and Phil looks relieved. "Go on then, off you go." The departure boards are showing Phil's flight as leaving soon, and he still needs to get through security. "Have a safe flight... And have fun. Don't worry about us, you just concentrate on having a good time." Phil hefts his bag, and shuffles closer to Steve, giving him an awkward one-armed hug.
"I'll send you a message when I land, and I'll call Christmas." Phil smiles brightly, and Steve nods. He has the feeling that now the precedent has been set, he might have to expect more hugs from Phil in the future. There's a part of him that's hoping its only hugs though, that little brush of a kiss is still carefully un-thought of in the back of his mind.
"Well, I can't reply to those message thingies, but we'll appreciate it." Steve smiles, and waves Phil off, standing watching him until he disappears behind the security line.
The house without Phil feels quiet. He might not be a loud member of the household, but there is an odd, heavy silence without him there. It's almost hard to remember when Steve had been comfortable with this silence. Last year he'd been fine with silence, now he feels lonely. Hershey seems lost without her companion, wandering around the place, scratching hopefully at Phil's bedroom door, or sitting on watch on the veranda. Without their little houseguest, it really seems like they're both a little lost and lonely.
"Merry Christmas, Steve." Phil's voice on the other end of the line is a surprise, and Steve laughs at just how happy he sounds. In the background there's chattering, the sounds of many happy people all gathered in one place. It's almost depressing how happy Steve is to hear from Phil. The last few days have been strangely hard.
"Merry Christmas, Mr Austin!" A loud voice calls, and Steve laughs again. Phil starts berating the person who shouted, making Steve laugh even more. By the sounds of things, that was Phil's friend Scott, he sounds like a cheerful guy, he sounds like the opposite of Phil, and that's more than likely a very good thing for Phil.
"Hello?" A woman's voice takes the phone, and Steve's slightly confused.
"Hi? Is everything alright there?" He asks, and the woman laughs, in the background there's the sound of raucous laughter from Phil. It's a good sound, one Steve's never really heard before, but would like to, Phil has a fine laugh and should have more opportunities to use it.
"We're fine... My son is just rather... Boisterous, I think that's the safest word for him anyways. Scott! Let Philip talk to his Steve, and come help me with lunch." Scott's mother shouts to her son, and there's more laughter from Phil.
"Mom! Fine..." There's the sound of the phone being passed back, and then soft panting half-laughter from Phil.
"Sorry about that. As I was saying, Merry Christmas." Phil seems to have gotten himself under control, and Steve's almost sorry for that. It'd been nice to hear him so very happy.
"Well... Merry Christmas to you too, Punkster. How's it going? You're not missing the Texan sun too much?" Steve isn't sure what he's hoping Phil's going to say, there's a little part of him that'd like Phil to say yes, he's missing Texas, but more of him is happy that Phil is content where he is.
"I miss Hershey... How is she? Is she okay?" Phil sounds deeply worried for the dog, and there's a slightly strange sting of jealousy in Steve.
They're friends, my rattlesnake. Of course, he misses her.
"Well, I reckon she's missing her buddy too. She's been moping around since you left, sleeping on your bed, not looking too impressed with dog food." Steve laughs, resolutely listening to the imagined words of his wife.
"I'm gonna have to make her some more cookies when I get home." Phil laughs, and Steve smiles slightly. He'd never thought he'd hear Phil call the ranch home when he's away from it; it's kind of comforting in a strange way. He'd assured Phil in the truck on the way to the airport, that the ranch was home, and it seems Phil took that to heart.
"She'll appreciate that, I'm sure." Steve isn't too sure how to expand on this conversation, the silence that falls over them seems strangely light, but it makes him uncomfortable all the same. "So you having fun?"
"Huh? Yeah... Yeah, I am... I..." Phil sighs, and Steve frowns, not sure what to make of that noise. "In my room, in the chest at the end of my bed... Your Christmas present is there. I gotta go. I'll be home soon. Bye!" Phil hangs up before Steve can say anything, and he stares at the phone in his hand, not too sure what just happened.
"Well, Miss Hershey, I imagine that there'll be something in this chest for you too. You wanna go take a look?" The dog glances up at Steve, and stands, walking to Phil's room, where she scratches at the door pitifully as she has been since Phil left. "Yes, Miss Hershey, we're going in." Steve opens the door, and Hershey rushes through it, sniffing around, her tail wagging happily, before she huffs miserably and flops on Phil's bed.
She really does miss him, doesn't she? My poor girl... You need to fuss over her more till her friend gets home, rattlesnake.
Steve can hear her voice, laughing at them both, can picture his wife sitting on the bed, ruffling Hershey's fur so clearly.
"Right, let's see what we got for Christmas, shall we?" Steve opens the chest, inside there's three brightly wrapped packages. One addressed to Mr and Mrs Ross, and how Phil knew Jim and Jan were coming over today Steve isn't sure, but he supposes they must have told him. The second is for Hershey, and Steve sets it down in front of her. She starts sniffing at it hopefully, licking at the paper. Steve imagines it'll be something edible, so he makes a little tear in the paper, and Hershey gets the idea, pulling it all off enthusiastically. Inside is what looks like an antler, and a little sealed box marked Christmas dog cookies. "Hmm, you enjoy that, Wonder Dog. These are going in the cupboard." Steve cracks the box open, taking a peek at the little treats, each one cut out in a festive shape. The third parcel is addressed to Steve, and there's a little part of him that doesn't really want to open it. He pulls it out and sets it on the end of the bed, staring at it. He should just open it, but there's a silly little part of him that wants to see Phil's face when he does. It's ridiculous, and silly, so Steve pulls the gift open quickly. A thick journal falls on the bed, and a box of cookies, along with a little note.
Steve,
In this book is my story... I don't know if you wanna read it, I don't know if it's your job to know these things, but this is why I'm here. You can read that folder you've got in your bedroom first if you want, or you can read none of it, maybe you don't care, but I'd like you to have the option of hearing it from me before you read what the Authorities have to say.
I hope you like the cookies.
Punk x
The little X makes Steve think of Phil's lips brushing his cheek. That little kiss Phil had given him on his birthday is something Steve's avoided thinking about, but he supposes he should really consider it a little more. It was probably just a sign of affection though, something without thought or meaning behind it, just something spur of the moment and sweet. Phil's a tactile, sweet person, a peck on the cheek is probably pretty normal for him, or at least it would be if he'd be given the chance to grow up the way he deserved. There's no doubt in Steve's mind that Phil doesn't deserve the life he's had to lead so far. There's no doubting that Phil deserved a life filled with love, and happiness. There's no doubting that whatever is in this journal is going to make Steve want to kill, because, there's no doubting that Phil's life has been horrible so far.
Maybe you don't care
He's staring at that little phrase in Phil's note, his eyes unmoving from it. It's a simple little phrase, but it hurts him. He cares, he cares so much, and Phil's still capable of thinking that Steve doesn't care for him. There's clearly still a lot of work to do with his little charge, a lot of effort to put in to convince him that Steve cares, he worries, he's concerned, that even if Phil's parents didn't, Steve loves him.
Christmas dinner with Jim and his wife was nice, though much more subdued than Thanksgiving; the table had felt empty, the conversation lacking for Phil's absence. Jan volunteers to do the dishes leaving Steve and Jim sitting in the living room, the TV on, and Hershey curled up in Phil's spot on the couch.
"Something's on your mind, Steve... I can tell, so spill." Jim doesn't stop watching the old rerun to look at Steve, but the tone of voice he used suggests that if he has to, he'll start demanding answers.
"I got a Christmas present from Phil." Steve sighs, he's not sure he really wants to talk about this with Jim, that thick diary is something personal that Phil chose to share with Steve, not Jim.
"Well of course you did." Jim laughs. "You can give him one when he's home." Jim turns to him with a smile, and Steve hands him the note. "Oh... Oh..." Jim stares at the note, and then up at Steve. "Have you read it yet?" Steve shakes his head, and Jim refolds the note, setting it on the table. "You need to read it, Steve... Then you need to give it to me so I can pass it to the Authorities." Jim sighs, probably feeling the weight of the glare Steve knows he's firing Jim's way. He knows that the Authorities would love to read Phil's journal, and Steve knows he'll have to give it to them, but there's a selfish part of him that wants to keep it for himself.
"I know... Gimme till he's home... Till the ninth." Steve thinks that might be long enough to read the journal, and calm down enough to be able to resist getting on a plane to O'Hare.
"Alright... You want me to pick him up?" Jim sighs, shifting up on the couch to let his wife sit beside him.
"No, I'll fetch him. I think Hershey's going mad without her little Punk. Aren't you, Wonder Dog?" Hershey looks up at Steve, her eyebrows wriggling, before she huffs, and flops her head back down.
"She really has gotten attached, hasn't she?" Jan laughs, and Steve ruffles Hershey's ears. She is very attached, but it's easy to get attached to Phil, so Steve can't blame her.
Once his guests have gone, and Steve's let Hershey into Phil's room for the night, she seems to be convinced that if she sleeps in her spot in the morning her little charge will have miraculously returned to her, and Steve doesn't have the heart to ruin her hopes, Steve heads to bed. Phil's journal and the manila folder are sitting on the comforter in front of him. He doesn't want to read this, he can already tell he doesn't want to, but he has to, he needs to know what Phil's been going through. He opens the first page, but can't make it past a single word. He needs to know but not tonight, he can't face it today. He'll read it before New Year's. That gives him a week, and Steve can only hope that's long enough to handle the horrors of Phil's life. Once he knows, then Steve will face the New Year with a new perspective, he'll understand his little charge better. He'll be able to use the remaining time to convince Phil that he's loved, that he's precious, that no matter what's in this journal, Steve, and Hershey, will be there for him.
Many thanks to the ladies and gentlemen who reviewed:
InYourHonour, AshJoivillette, Athena MacG, littleone1389, Shiki94, Rebellecherry, and Brokenspell77.
Thank you once more for your patience with this fic. It's slow going, but I did get December out before Christmas, so yay me? I have to admit I was both surprised and pleased to see sorrow for the deceased poultry. (It then occurred to me that one of the main characters in this fic is a dog, and that that's pretty weird, but how can you not love SCSA's Hershey the Wonder Dog... She's so cute!)
This chapter posed me quite a few problems, in so many ways... If you find something that's off, please let me know!
I'm more than interested in your thoughts... So please review!
Merry (early) Christmas!