Warnings: AU, Slash (Stone Cold Steve Austin/CM Punk), Mentions of Child Abuse, Profanity, Age difference, Smut.
They need to talk about what happened in the shower, Steve knows they do, but they've fallen into a new routine, a curiously comfortable routine. Every night he sleeps in Phil's bed, cradling him close, every night he sleeps soundly, every night Phil sleeps soundly, and every day the sickness is nearly silent. It's almost as though sharing a bed with Phil is the medicine the sickness needed. The attraction hasn't gone, but it's stopped screaming for attention every second of the day. Steve can finally spend time with Phil, and not be constantly reminded of how he's a child, of how Steve's attracted to him, of how wrong that is. By being that little bit closer than he should be, the sickness is staved off to more manageable levels, and it makes everything better between them.
"So... I don't have homework, but you still have letters." Phil waves his hand at the pile envelopes on the table by Steve's coffee cup.
"I do." Steve nods, not wanting to think too much on Phil saying he doesn't have homework. There's always some kind of homework issued over the summer break, and if Phil doesn't have any, it might mean he's no intention of staying another year, something Steve doesn't want to think too long or too hard on.
"Hmm..." Phil looks over a Steve, his eyebrows knit. "If I start baking, you'll never get them written, will you?" He smirks, and Steve barks a laugh. It's more than likely true. If Phil's creating something delicious, Steve will invariably sample it in the preparation stages, as well as the finished product. Phil suddenly stands, and leaves the kitchen, coming back with his sketchbook, and some pencils.
"You've got an assignment from the Owl?" Steve glances up from eating when Phil sits back down, resuming eating his own breakfast.
"Nope... I just wanna practice some." He shrugs, and Steve nods absently. Even if Phil doesn't havehomework, at least he's not intending to break with a tradition Steve loves. If Phil leaves he's going to miss their Saturday mornings spent working at the kitchen table. He's going to miss a thousand little and big things in all honesty. As much as he doesn't want to pressurise Phil, Steve would like an answer on what he's intending to do next year, he'd like to know if he can expect an empty house or not, but then again, even if Phil leaves, there's no reason for the house to be empty. Jim has already made the offer of sending some more kids to stay with him, but with just Steve, it might be too difficult. Phil, as much as Steve hates to even think it because it makes him feel too much like the abusers in the other kids' pasts, was a special case. Even when he'd been nothing more than a photo and some vague information, he was someone Steve had felt compelled towards. There'd been something about Phil, about his eyes, that had drawn Steve in, and the little extra closeness they've settled into is making that a touch easier to bear.
"Well, if you say so, Punkster." Steve smiles absently at him, watching a slight smile flit over Phil's lips.
The rest of Saturday passes without incident, and on Sunday, Phil suggests fishing, to which Steve readily agrees. Spending time on the boat is always good for them. Of all the activities that they regularly do together, fishing is the one that consistently brings them closer. So many important conversations have happened out on the lake in that little boat, so many breakthroughs have come about there, and Steve's almost sure that he's not going to feel the same fishing in it alone. Every time he sits in that boat, he's going to think of Phil sitting beside, talking, laughing, just being himself, and every time Steve's going to miss him.
"I wanna talk, Steve." Phil says suddenly, and Steve almost groans. Phil turns to him, a slightly contrite smile on his lips, and Steve nods grimly.
"I know what you wanna talk about, so just say what you're going to say, and be done with it." Steve swallows heavily, and tries to hide the fact that despite him knowing what Phil wants to talk about, he's no idea what he's actually going to say. Phil nods, and takes a deep breath.
"I'm sorry I walked in on you in the shower... Kind of, at least... But it needed to be done." Phil sounds firm, and Steve can't help but laugh at him. It's not what he'd been expecting Phil to say about the shower incident at all. He'd been expecting some kind of retraction, or something similar, a half-apology had never even factored into Steve's considerations. "I'm not sorry that we've been sharing a bed, and I'm not sorry it's so small, because I love sleeping in your arms, Steve." A blush creeps over Phil's cheeks, and he shakes his head, as though trying to chase it away. "I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable, but I'm not sorry you love me, because I love you too." He smiles brightly, and Steve shakes his head.
"You've got a cru-"
"Don't you dare tell me I've got a crush on you, because I will tip you out of the boat if you do." Phil snaps, his eyes narrowed as he glares at Steve. "I'm young, Steve, I know that, but I know what love is."
"You think you know what love is. This is-" Steve doesn't get to finish his sentence. Phil deftly manages to unseat him, and send him splashing into the water. Hershey barks from the bank, and then bounds into the water, making it to Steve in record time. She swims around the boat yelping, sounding very much like she's laughing at Steve as he clings to the boat.
"I warned you." Phil offers him a hand to help him get back into the little vessel.
"You did." Steve grabs the hand and tugs, pulling Phil into the water with him, smirking when Phil sends a splash of water at his face.
"I was trying to help!" He sounds indignant, but he's laughing, a smile on his lips.
"I was helping you too... It's hot today... A swim'll do you the power of good." Steve laughs, and Phil shakes his head, and then dives under the water, resurfacing a good distance away.
"These clothes are not designed for swimming." He calls over to Steve, and splashes his way back over, Hershey paddling around him, clearly unsure why everyone is in the water, but utterly delighted with the turn of events.
It takes them a good long while to clamber back into the boat, a good long while that they spend splashing around, and generally having fun, but in the back of Steve's mind are Phil's words. I know what love is. Those plain, little words are lodged in Steve's mind, and no matter how much he tries to focus on what he's doing, on the fun he's having, they keep bobbing to the surface of his mind.
"What makes you think you know what love is, Punkster?" Steve asks once they're sitting on the bank of the lake, fish roasting on the fire, and as much of their clothes as is decent draped over the truck to dry.
"I had a crush on Coach Cena... I tolerated Randy... How I felt with them, it's different to how I feel with you." He shrugs, poking at the fire with a stick. "With them it was like, it'd be okay if they weren't there anymore, like if they weren't part of my life, even in some small way, it'd be fine." Phil sighs, and pokes at the flames some more. "But with you... I can't face the idea of you not being in my life, Steve... I can't stand the thought of not being able to at least talk to you, of not being able to hear you laugh... I don't want to not have you in my life... I want... I want to wake up every morning in your arms, I want to make cookies for you forever... I want to-"
"Okay." Steve holds a hand up to stop Phil's ramble. He can feel an unexpected heat on his face, can feel a matching heat in his belly that is far less innocent. "I'm pretty happy to keep eating cookies for as long as you'll make them, Punkster." Steve smiles, the churning sickness in his mind that made itself known during Phil's little speech is silenced by the look on Phil's face at those words. Even the sickness is stunned into silence at how beautiful a truly happy Phil looks.
That night Steve is once more in Phil's bed, once more holding him close, and once more, he falls asleep easily. However, it's to the soft sound of Phil contentedly whispering I love you into what he thinks is Steve's sleeping chest.
The next Saturday sees Jim arriving for dinner. He has several manila folders with him, but doesn't mention them until Phil's setting dessert down on the table.
"Steve, Phil, I don't know what you two have decided, but I'm gonna need answers from you both soon." He taps the folders, and Phil looks between them, Jim and Steve, his curiosity clearly piqued.
"I'm still thinking about what'd be best, Jim." Phil takes a mouth of dessert, his eyes fixed on Steve. "What's Steve need to make his mind up about?"
"Some new kids." Jim taps the little stack of folders, and Phil's eyebrows rise. "I'd like for him to take on one or two more, but he's dragging his heels." Jim chuckles, starting to eat once more. "I figured I'd drop the most likely candidates off for you both have a look over, and if there's one or two, or three you think you could help, well... I'd be mighty grateful." Jim smiles, and Steve has to resist the urge to glare at his old friend. Phil's still watching him with cool calculation in his eyes, and a slight curve of a smile on his lips.
"I think it's a good idea." Phil grins at Jim, and Steve sighs, resting his hand on the folders. "Some more kids would be good for you, Steve.
"I'll think about it... Same way, Punkster's thinking about what he's doing next school year." Phil glances away at Steve's words, and Steve smiles at Jim. "We'll let you as soon as we can, right?" He hopes Phil will answer, and is relieved when he turns to Jim.
"We'll think about it quickly, and get back to you by the end of the week." Phil smiles, and Jim seems contented with that, letting the subject drop, but he looks tense, like there's something else on his mind. Halfway through his dessert, he clears his throat, and levels Phil with a heavy stare. "I wasn't going to say anything, but they've set a trial date." Phil pales slightly, and nods. "October-"
"I don't wanna know." Phil says softly, his eyes falling closed. "Do I need to be there?"
"Well... They want you there, but you can give your evidence over a link if you like." Jim forces a smile to his face, but it's clearly not an expression that comes easily to him. "You won't have to see them if you don't want to." Jim reaches over to Phil, and takes his hand. "I'd completely understand if you didn't want to see them, everyone would understand, Phil." Phil nods, his eyes resting on Steve's face.
"It's up to you, Punkster." Steve mutters. There's a part of him that's furious that the trial's in October, like it's some cruel birthday gift to Phil from the Fates, but then again it might be the single greatest gift he's ever been given. Justice is a spectacular birthday present after all.
"I'll think about it... All of it, and let you know soon, okay?" Phil smiles awkwardly, and the subject seems closed as Jim starts talking about football instead.
That night, as they're getting ready for bed, Phil seems pensive, his mind clearly lost in the thought. Steve puts off asking him what's on his mind until they're in bed, Phil's head against his chest, and his hands tucked under Steve's body.
"There's something bothering you?" It's not a great opening gambit, but it's really all Steve can think of, lying peacefully together like this isn't something he really wants to interrupt, but he wants to know what's wrong with Phil so he can start trying to make it better as quickly as possible. It's undoubtedly the trail, undoubtedly his parents once more, but what his thoughts are, Steve has no idea.
"Just thinking about what Jim said." Phil sighs, and squirms in Steve's arms, shifting to look up at him. "What do you think I should do?"
"I dunno... It's not my choice, Punkster... This is your decision, and only you can make it." Steve strokes his cheek gently, losing a fight with a smile when Phil turns and nuzzles against his palm. "No matter what you decide, you'll have my full support, okay? If you go back to Chicago, if you stay here on the Ranch, if you to the trail, or if you give evidence by video, no matter what, I'll be in your corner."
"No words of advice?" Phil smiles, settling back down to sleep with a soft sigh.
"Not a one... Just that I love you, and I support you, and that you better get some sleep cause we've got a ton of work to get on with tomorrow." Phil laughs at Steve's words, and presses a barely there kiss to Steve's chest.
"G'night Steve... I love you too."
"So..." Steve isn't sure where's going with this. He's been thinking about how to ask Phil what he's going to do about what Jim said for days now, but no words have come to him. Phil glances up from the pad of paper in his lap, a smile on his face. They're sitting in the back yard, a few days after Jim's visit, resting after a long day of working on the Ranch, but before eating dinner. Over the course of July so far, Phil's been trying to teach Steve how to make some simple meals, and whilst he's mastered scrambled eggs, most everything else is a stretch, though his mac and cheese is showing significant improvement, and Steve's hoping to somehow skip tonight's cookery lesson, but knowing Phil, that isn't likely.
"What?" It's hard to look at Phil sometimes, though not for the same reasons of a few weeks ago, not because of fear and dread, but because he's impossibly beautiful, and Steve knows that Phil knows he thinks that, which makes looking at him awkward in a way Steve had never anticipated, awkward in a strangely good way. Sometimes Steve will find himself looking at Phil, and he'll notice, sending a sweet little blush over his cheeks, and a tiny, contented smile over his lips. It's more than obvious that Phil enjoys being admired, and in all honesty, Steve enjoys admiring him, even if he shouldn't, he does. It's possibly okay so long as he doesn't act on that admiration, possibly okay if he doesn't do anything with it, so long as it's simply admiring someone beautiful, but untouchable.
"I've been thinking... Jim'll be wanting an answer soon, and-"
"I'm going back to Chicago." Phil shrugs, and turns back to his sketching as though it wasn't a big deal, but it is a big deal. It's a huge deal.
"Really?" Steve croaks out. Once more Phil looks at him, but this time he closes the pad, and crawls over the grass to Steve, settling between his splayed legs.
"Uh-huh." Phil nods, his hand resting on Steve's cheek. "I need to be there for the trial." Steve nods, he's glad that Phil's parents are finally facing justice, but surprised that Phil wants to be there to see it. He'd expected Phil to want to give his evidence remotely, so he could avoid them, but he's far braver than Steve gives him credit for. He should remember to stop underestimating Phil, but there are times when he seems so small, so vulnerable, and Steve can't help but want to keep him safe from the horrors of his past.
"You're sure?" Steve asks softly, and Phil nods, a determined look in his eyes. "Alright, but after..." Steve draws Phil closer to him, wrapping his arms around his waist, tucking Phil's head under his chin.
"After, I've got school to finish, so I'm gonna stay with my sisters." It's strange how much hearing Phil talk like this hurts. Steve isn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he'd hoped that Phil would stay another year; he'd hoped that Phil would stay at home with Steve, even if he was going to go to Chicago for the trial, Steve had wanted him to come back home to him.
"I see..." Steve loosens his hold on Phil, intending to let him go, seeing as it seems to be what he wants. It's possible, probable, that Phil's crush has been burnt out by spending all of this time with him, and that's for the best really. If Phil wants to leave, then the sickness might go with him, and Steve can return to the malaise of this time last year.
"Hey." Phil's tone is sharply amused, and Steve glances down at him, noting the exasperatedly entertained expression on his face. "I'm going because I have to, not because I want to." He smiles, and Steve stares at him blankly. "You said it yourself... In the eyes of the law at least, I'm still a child. In the eyes of the law, what I feel for you, what you feel for me is wrong... And if I stay... It's a long time to be a good boy, Steve." Phil smirks, waggling his eyebrows, and Steve laughs at him. It's a laugh that's torn between genuine amusement, and resigned agreement. If Phil stayed, Steve knows he'd only grow more beautiful. Already with every passing day, Phil becomes more the man he'll be when he's fully-grown, and with every inch of hair, every pound of muscle, Steve's attraction grows.
"Sometimes Punkster, you're ridiculous." Steve smiles, his hands framing Phil's face, his thumbs stroking over his eyebrows. "I understand... I do." Steve laughs at the disbelief on Phil's face, and pecks him on the nose. He understands far better than Phil thinks. This isn't him running, this isn't him leaving because he's unhappy, this is Phil going because if he stays it'll be too hard for both of them, and that fact is strangely reassuring to Steve. That Phil's worried about his own self-control is almost gratifying in some kind of odd way. "And you never know, some charming young thing might come along, and sweep you off your feet." He laughs, and Phil snorts, settling in Steve's arms once more, his back against Steve's chest.
"Now you're being ridiculous." He snaps, lacing their fingers together, and resting them on his stomach, dangerously close to his groin. "I've already told you, I don't want a boy. I want a man... I want someone to protect me, someone to keep me safe, someone who loves me. I want you." Phil's hips buck slightly, and Steve's tenses his arms, stopping them from moving any lower.
"Punk... We can't-"
"I know... Which is why I'm leaving, Steve." Phil sighs softly, and tilts his head back to look up at Steve. "A year apart... Well, a little over a year, nearly two, I guess... Once I'm eighteen, I'll be old enough for the government to not give too much of a shit." He smiles, and Steve nods slightly, kissing Phil's forehead. "I'll come down at Christmas... Take my family with me... I think you'll like Scott, you can talk sports." There's a fond lilt to Phil's voice, and Steve smiles to himself. He thinks he'll like Scott too, he thinks he'll like all of the people Phil considers his family. People Phil loves, people who love Phil, there's no way he won't like them. He just hopes they'll like him, because he intends to stay a part of Phil's life for as long as Phil will let him, so they'll be spending a lot of time together.
"You want me to come up for the trial?" Steve isn't sure what the answer will be to that question. He wants to see justice served, he wants to be there for Phil, but he's not certain Phil will want him there. He might want to prove to himself that he can stand on his own, and face his demons by himself. Phil's pride is admirable, but sometimes a little too masochistic.
"You'll be busy, won't you?" Phil squeezes Steve's fingers, his tone light and soft.
"The Ranch doesn't need me all that much. I can pay a hand to look after things while I'm away." There's no way the Ranch would keep him there if Phil wanted him in Chicago for the trial, there's nothing that could keep him away if Phil wanted him to be in Chicago with him.
"The new kids'll need you, Steve." Phil lets go of Steve's hand, and turns to look at him. "You are taking on more kids, right? I didn't fuck this up for you, did I?" There's such an earnest misery in Phil's voice, and Steve looks away. He'd been thinking about that, stressing over it. His attraction to Phil, his desire for him, was it just towards Phil, or was it for all children. The other kids in Phil's play, other kids on the street, kids in general are just kids. They're not Phil. No one is Phil, and it's only Phil who holds his interest, but it doesn't stop those thoughts from plaguing him from time to time.
"I dunno, Punkster... I-"
"You're a good parent, Steve." Phil sighs, and stands, picking up his sketchbook. "You're a good hero, and kids need a hero." He starts wandering towards the house, leaving Steve sitting under the tree, considering his words. A Hero isn't something Steve feels like he is, but Phil called him one, and if he's a hero in Phil's eyes, then he is one to someone at least. "You should take more on... And you should get the Owl to come here... She'd be a good addition to the place while I'm gone." He calls from the door of the Ranch house. "Someone has to make sure you and the new kids are all fed and watered... Heaven help them if all they got was your cooking." Phil disappears inside the house with a laugh, and Steve glances over at Hershey.
"Well, Wonder Dog... What'd you think? More kids, and adopting a granny?" Steve laughs. Hershey looks at him blankly for a few seconds before letting out a happy little bark, and scrambles to her feet, tearing into the house. "Well... I don't know if that's a yes or no." Steve mutters into the air, the sound of Phil laughing drifting out to him.
The next Saturday morning instead of his letters, Steve takes the manila folders Jim had left, and spreads them over the kitchen table after breakfast.
"So... Punkster, which ones?" Steve flips each folder open, one after the other. Inside is a picture of each child, some smiling, some frowning, some looking completely blank, but none looking the way Phil had, none of them as compelling as Phil's huge eyes had been.
"Steve... I'm not going to be here... My opinion doesn't count." He shrugs, stepping away from his baking, wiping his hands on a towel as he approaches the table despite his protestation.
"Of course it matters." Steve bumps Phil's shoulder when he gets close enough, getting a little smile from him.
"Jesus." Phil mutters softly under his breath as he stares at the photos. "How do you pick? How did you pick me?" He glances up at Steve briefly before turning back to the files.
"You were the only one Jim had... Wait." Steve leaves Phil in the kitchen, getting nothing more than a vague nod on his way out of the room. When he comes back, Phil is reading through one of the folders, a little frown on his face. Steve sets another file down, and flips it open, tapping it lightly, drawing Phi's attention to it.
"That's me?" He asks as he sets the file he was reading, down to pick up his own. "Fuck... I look so different." He laughs, as his finger traces over the photo. "I look like a little kid in this picture." He chuckles, and Steve winces.
"You a-"
"I may not have a lake to throw you in, but if you finish that sentence there will be consequences." Phil snaps, and Steve closes his mouth, unwilling to try Phil's considerable creativity. "I'm young, Steve, but?" He's clearly waiting for Steve to confirm that he's not a child, but there's a part of Steve that knows Phil is deep down at his core a child still, a child that has been forced to grow up far too quickly, but a child all the same.
"In the eyes of the law, Punkster..." Steve mumbles, his eyes turned down to the folders, to the pictures of children who in Jim's mind need his help. He can't help them, not with the sickness in his head.
"Stop." Phil's arms snake around Steve's waist, his chest pressed to Steve's back. "Just stop." He seems to snuggle against Steve, squeezing him tightly. "You're a good man, Steve. You'll be a great guardian to any one of these kids. You know... When I'm gone, maybe your sickness will go too." Phil sounds miserable, and Steve shakes his head disagreeing with what he can tell will be Phil misunderstanding, and taking blame on himself where he's entirely innocent. "That's what you think you're sick with, right? Loving me..." Phil sighs, and Steve closes his eyes.
"Punkster... I... You're a child, you're my child." Steve all but whispers, and Phil tightens his arms around him.
"Do you love me?" Phil asks, and Steve nods in reply. "Is it wrong to love someone?" Steve shakes his head, whispering no. "Am I someone?"
"Pun-"
"Am I someone?" Phil interrupts, his tone taking on a sharp edge.
"Yes... You're someone." Steve answers, almost wanting to pull out of Phil's arms, and explain to him how he's wrong, but the longer he stands with Phil holding him, and the longer he can feel the warmth of Phil's chest against his back, the less Steve wants to explain. Phil's reasoning is so different to his own, and so much more pleasantly easy to accept as the truth.
"I'm not your child, Steve... You were my guardian for a year, because the people who bore me fucked me up... You were getting me back on my feet... Making me better, making me strong enough to face them, and punish them for what they did to me." Phil's chin digs into Steve's shoulder, his breath against his ear. "You didn't mean for me to fall for you, and you sure as hell didn't mean to fall for me... I still don't get why you did. I mean your wife was beautiful, gorgeous even, and then there's me... Skinny, scruffy, mentally battered me." He laughs miserably, and Steve shakes his head. "When I'm gone, you'll forget all about me."
"You think that when you're away, I'll forget about you?" Steve rests his hands on Phil's arms, stroking his skin lightly. "You think that you not being here is going to do anything other than make me miss you?" Steve laughs quietly, and Phil sighs, a soft yes on that gust of breath. "Idiot. All that you being away is going to do is make me worry, and miss you Punkster..." Steve steps out of Phil's arms, and catches his chin, canting his face up towards him. "Look at me." He waits until Phil meets his eyes, and smiles softly at him. "I sure as hell didn't mean to fall for you... I've fought it every step of the way, because you're so young, because you're my charge, but-"
"You can't fight the sickness anymore?" Phil almost sneers, and Steve kisses his forehead.
"I don't think I phrased that right... I... Phil, you're a child, I'm not a paedophile, but I love you... I... You have to understand-"
"I do." Phil smiles suddenly, a bright smile that lights up his eyes. "I get it... I think at least... Jesus, why do you think I'm going? I don't want you worrying you're sick because of me Steve... I want you happy." He laughs, and steps away from Steve. "You know... The very last thing I'm worried about is coming back at Christmas, a little older, a little bigger, a little hairy, is you being less attracted to me because of those things... I know you're not a paedophile, Steve... I've met those people, and you're not one of them." He laughs, and Steve winces slightly. "What I'm worried about is the Owl's gonna find you some gorgeous woman to fill your wife's shoes." He starts looking at the files once more, a tension in his shoulders.
"Punkster." Steve kisses the back of his head, and Phil turns to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "You're an idiot." Phil snorts disdainfully, but there's a little smile on his lips, a little look of happiness to replace the tightly controlled misery that had been there before.
Come Sunday, Steve sits writing his letters at the kitchen table, and Phil's dragged an easel through, busily working on something that he's strictly forbidden Steve from looking at. No amount of pleading, and wheedling had gotten him even a peek at the painting. It's strange writing whilst Phil's mostly hidden from view, because in all honesty, Steve enjoys getting to look at Phil's expression when he's concentrating. The little faces Phil would pull was almost the best part of the mornings they've spent working at the kitchen table.
"I've been thinking about the folders." Phil says suddenly, and Steve glances at the little stack of them in the middle of the table. "I think that there's three you'd get on with really well, and I think that they'd get on with the Owl too." Phil pokes his head around his canvas, and Steve laughs at him. Over the bridge of his nose is a smear of green paint, the shade almost exactly the same colour as his eyes. "What?"
"C'mere." Steve beckons him over, and Phil looks at him dubiously, but does approach Steve. "There." Steve wipes a napkin over Phil's nose, then kisses the tip of it. "You had paint on you, messy little thing that you are... I swear, I've never met someone who can make such a mess of themselves, but nothing else."
"Story of my life, isn't it?" Phil laughs wryly, retreating back behind his easel before Steve can comment on that. "So, like I was saying, three kids, and the Owl."
"You seem awfully fixated on getting her to come out here." Steve smiles, and drags the folders closer, flipping them open, trying to work out which ones Phil thinks would be the best fit for the Ranch.
"She's lonely." He says calmly. When he's creating, Phil seems to be completely at ease with his environment, completely in control of his own little world, and it makes Steve incredibly glad. He likes watching Phil create, be it painting, or baking, or even finishing a homework assignment, once he's finished he always looks so pleased with himself, and it's adorable. "Her store's okay for a distraction, but it's not enough... There's plenty of life in her, she needs something more hands on, and she's good with kids, and you like her... And when I come visit at Christmas you'll all be here."
"How about we ask her then?" Steve smiles at the back of Phil's canvas, easily imagining the smile that'll be on his face. He makes a fair enough case for at least asking the old woman if she wants to move in. Steve's sure that the attic room with its odd angles, and the big window in the roof would appeal to her, and she is a pretty good cook. He really could use some help on that front if he takes in more kids. He could feed them all toast with the occasional bowl of mac and cheese for variety.
"I invited her out to dinner on Thursday to the place in town to say goodbye... We can spring it on her then." Phil laughs, and Steve shakes his head. He's not really surprised that Phil's already got something set up, he seems more than keen on the idea, and Steve thinks it's because he wants everyone he cares for in this small town in together one place, so that he knows they're safe and happy somewhere he trusts.
"Well, if we're eating out you'll have to wear something nice for a change." Steve says mildly, and Phil's face appears around the side of the easel wearing a horrified expression. "We'll take a trip into town, and get you something from the store tomorrow."
"No... It's just the Owl... She knows me, I don't gotta get all dressed up for her." Phil comes over to Steve, a sly little smile on his face. "We could go to the diner instead... Tell her it's all nice and casual." He perches on the edge of the table, and takes up the folders, flicking through them, then sets three down in front of Steve. "These three." He grins, and kisses the top of Steve's head. "What you think?" The three kids are very different to each other, but they seem like good kids stuck in bad situations. The sort of kids that Steve would invariably pick if he'd been the one to make the decision.
"I'll read them over, but you're still getting something nice to wear. If we want her to say yes, we need to impress her." Steve smirks, and Phil sighs dramatically, slipping off the table, and going back to his canvas.
"Fine, fine, but if I'm stuck getting dressed up, you are too." He mutters bitterly, and Steve can't keep from laughing at him. "I might even get you a new tie as a leaving present."
"Well now, I feel a touch underdressed for the occasion." The Owl smiles when they arrive to pick her up on Thursday night. Steve would disagree with her though, she looks traditionally elegant, and has the grace to act abashed when he tells that much.
"C'mon Mrs Davis, we'll miss our reservation if we don't get a move on." Phil's fidgeting, as he has been ever since he got dressed up in the suit and tie. He keeps fussing with the loop of material around his neck, and stealing little glances at Steve, which is playing havoc with Steve's ego. He keeps finding himself puffing up, preening almost as Phil's eyes flicker over him restlessly, all whilst trying to stop himself from looking over how good the suit looks on Phil. The dark fabric hugs his legs a little more tightly than any other pair of pants he owns, and it's a little more distracting than it should be.
"I'm coming. Honestly Philip, you seem terribly keen to say goodbye to me." The old woman laughs, and pulls him into a hug.
"No... It's not that-"
"Ah, so you're hungry? All these new muscles you've gotten since I saw you last are greedy things then?" Phil blushes at the Owl's words, and stammers uselessly for something to say, as the Owl squeezes one of his biceps. Phil has definitely filled out over the last few weeks, and he looks good for it.
"That they are, and well... We have a little offer for you to consider." Steve smiles as the Owl turns to him, her eyes narrowed.
"An offer, you say? Well, I don't rightly know what that could be, so colour me intrigued, Mr Austin." She starts walking to the truck, and Phil scrambles to open the door for her, helping her into it. "So, do I get a hint as to what you're both propositioning me with, or do I have to wait until after dinner?"
"We'll tell you with dessert." Phil opens Steve's door, then wanders over to get in the passenger's side of the truck.
"Plying me with food, nice clothes, and more of these dastardly good candies... You boys are making this old owl most suspicious." She laughs, and Steve grins over at Phil, getting an equally bright grin back.
"No need to be suspicious of us, we're perfect gentlemen." Steve assures her, but only gets a wry laugh in return.
Dinner is a light, easy affair, the Owl and Phil chatting about art, and plays, with Steve chiming in occasionally, then more regularly once the subject moves to television. The Owl shares a fondness for many of the shows he and Phil watch, so they've plenty to talk about, trying to predict plotlines, and guessing at character development. It's all rather pleasant, but once dessert arrives, the Owl's demeanour changes. She clearly wants to know what the ulterior motive behind this dinner is, and is watching both Phil and Steve carefully.
"I'm leaving next month." Phil says softly, and a sad little smile forms on the old woman's face.
"I know, dear, you told me... I gave you my Skype id. We can have lessons on Tuesdays, and or Thursdays as usual." She smiles, and Phil nods gratefully. "But what will you do without our dear Philip, Steve? You'll be rattling around in that big old house on your own."
"Well, Mrs Davis..." Steve sets the three manila folders down on the table, and pushes them over to her. "You'll need to be assessed, but I'm sure you'll pass no problem." The old woman flips one open, and stares at it.
"Assessed? I'm not sure I follow." She doesn't look up, her eyes narrowing as she reads the particulars of the child's file.
"I'd like you to go keep an eye on Steve for me." Phil grins over at the Owl, and the old woman's head snaps up to look at him. "He's great with kids, great with animals, but horrible with kitchens, and well... That little girl's gonna need a lady's guidance and advice." The Owl smiles slightly, and turns to Steve.
"You're proposing I give up my house, possibly my business, and come live on the Ranch, Mr Austin?" Her calculating tone is belied by the soft smile on her face. She's clearly tempted by the idea if nothing else.
"I am indeed requesting your aide, and considerable talents in providing the best possible care for these three youngsters." Steve tries to sound as formal, and respectful as possible. He'd been debating the value of having the old woman around, but seeing how taken aback, how flattered and happy she looks at even being offered this, makes him want her to accept.
"May I keep these? I'm going to imagine that these will be the children we'll be taking care of?" Her smile grows as she studies the next file. A boy, several years younger than Phil with impeccable art grades, but a drunk for a mother. Steve feels a little kick to his ankle, and he glances over at Phil. He reaches under the table for Steve's hand, squeezing it tightly before letting it drop quickly. He clearly thinks that they've got the Owl onboard, and in all honesty, Steve thinks they have too.
"So, you're saying yes?" Phil prompts her as she takes the third file up, reading it over slowly.
"Well... I'll think on it, Philip." She closes the files, lingering over the boy's, clearly fond of the idea of helping him. "You know, it's silly, but I always wanted a son." She takes a bite of her dessert, and then a sip of her drink. "Two daughters were fine, but I always wanted a boy." She finishes eating, and smirks at Phil. "I've only known you a short time, my dear, but I consider you my boy. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving him to me, Steve." She doesn't look at Steve as she talks; instead, her gaze is fixated on Phil's blushing face. "I expect you to come and visit us on Christmas, Easter too..."
"What?" Phil's mouth is gaping for a few seconds before a huge grin spreads over his lips. "You're saying yes?"
"I am indeed saying yes." She leans back in her chair, levelling both Phil and Steve with a fond look. "Someone has to make sure your Steve doesn't poison these poor children, and someone has to make sure he learns how to use a computer so he talk with you whilst you're in Chicago, and well, someone has to make sure that the Ranch is all spick and span when you finally bring that nice Scott boy down to meet me." She smirks, and Phil groans, face-palming.
"I knew letting you talk to him would lead to nothing but trouble... This is a fair warning, Steve. Scott, and Mrs Davis will be the death of me." Phil peeks at Steve through his fingers, and Steve pats him on the back gently.
"Don't worry, Punkster. Me and Hershey'll defend you." Steve lets his hand move up to Phil's head, rubbing over the short strands of his hair briefly before he takes up his glass, and holds it out to the Owl. "Well, Mrs Davis, welcome to the family. I'll talk to my friend, Mr Ross-"
"Jim? I know all about him. Philip is a chatty little thing once he gets started... He tells me all about the adventures you pair get up to during our lessons. I've felt like part of the family for quite some time now." She laughs, clinking her glass against Steve's and then Phil's. "I will insist on getting the cookie recipes though. My own are sorely lacking in comparison to yours' young man."
"I'll leave my cookbook in the drawer." Phil's wearing a completely contented smile, looking like everything in his world is perfect, and for once Steve thinks he agrees. In that moment, everything is perfect.
The happiness of Thursday night doesn't fade, despite the hard work done on the Ranch, every time Steve looks over at Phil, he sees a smile on his lips, and it sends one straight to Steve's own. Even though Phil is leaving, there's something hopeful coming out of it, something that Steve hadn't expected, and he's actually looking forward to having the Owl bustling around the Ranch house. He thinks she'll be an interesting addition to the place.
"So... I've been thinking." Steve says over breakfast on the last Saturday he'll spend with Phil. These next few days are the last any that he'll spend with Phil until he comes home once more. His going to Chicago is like him going away to a boarding school, he'll be gone for a while, but he'll come home. Steve has to believe that or he'll start begging Phil to change his mind and stay. He won't argue Phil's decision, especially not so late in the month, because he's made it for the right reasons. It's better for him to go, better for him to finish up high school somewhere with better educators, better for him to finish maturing away from Steve, away from his crush and Steve's attraction.
"Oh?" Phil glances up from the food he's been pushing around his plate. "What about?"
"We're going camping." Steve grins at him, and Phil raises an eyebrow.
"Camping?" He parrots back, confusion plain on his face.
"Uh-huh. You, me, Hershey, and a tent, up by the lake. We'll sleep the night there, and then tomorrow come home, and then you can spend the week however you like, you don't gotta work with me. Do whatever you please." Steve smiles, and Phil reaches over the table, grabbing Steve's hands.
"I want to work on the Ranch with you. I enjoy it... And that way we're together." Phil sighs, and shakes his head, letting Steve's hands go. "I'll tell you all this out at the lake." He grins suddenly. "That's where we have all our little heart to hearts, isn't it? I always wondered if you chose fishing cause it'd give me nowhere to run to if you asked me difficult questions."
"That's exactly why I chose it, Punkster... Only it's backfired on me a few times..." Steve laughs, thinking of the difficult questions Phil's fired at him on the boat.
"I only threw you in once." Phil chuckles, and finishes eating. "I'm taking something to swim in with me." He takes up his coffee, and sips at it slowly. "And cookies... We should get marshmallows and roast them. I've always wanted to do that on a real campfire." He grins, and Steve nods. He'd already loaded the truck up with everything while Phil was making breakfast, the only things he needs are Phil, and whatever he decides to take with him. "When are we going?"
"Soon as you're ready." Steve downs his coffee, and takes the dirty plates to the sink, starting to wash them.
"Gimme ten." Phil calls as he leaves the kitchen.
They spend the rest of the day out at the lake, talking, fishing, pitching the tent. It's all in all a good day, a day Steve's going to look back on fondly when Phil's gone, a day filled with simple warm memories of spending time with the person he loves. He's sad that he's so close to accepting his feelings when Phil's so close to being gone, but that's the way of it. There's nothing to be done, but accept that Phil's leaving, and that he'll be back home on the holidays, a little older and a little more beautiful. Steve's no doubts that as Phil gets older, he'll get more attractive, it's an inevitability that Steve's just going to have to deal with, at least that's what he thinks anyway.
That night, they lie in the tent, the ground hard, but still warm from the sun beneath them, the air so hot without the air conditioner of the house, that they're both in nothing more than boxers. Even if it wasn't so hot, Steve wouldn't be able to begin to think about sleep, not with Phil's bare skin beneath his fingertips, not with his bare chest pressed against his, and his bare legs twined with Steve's own.
"You too hot?" Phil asks suddenly, and Steve glances down at him.
"Huh? No, well a little, but there's nothing to do about that." Steve laughs, and Phil moves away from him, or at least tries to, because Steve's arms close around him tightly, keeping him in place. "Where you going?"
"Moving, so you're less hot." Phil rolls his eyes, but settles back against Steve's chest without further protest. "It's sticky at night." He closes his eyes, his face tilted up to Steve. "I can't sleep either... I keep thinking..." He trails off, and shakes his head, a deep red spreading over his cheeks.
"You thinking something you shouldn't, Punkster?" Steve's not sure where that teasing tone's coming from, but it makes the blush deepen somehow, and he can't resent it in the least. Blushing Phil is always an interesting sight to behold.
"I... I keep thinking that there's no one here... That we're all alone... But." He sighs softly, and moves out Steve's arms, flopping onto his back. "I'm too god damn hot... You're just going to have to deal with it." He slips out of the tent, and his boxers are thrown in through the door flap. Steve pokes his head out just in time to see Phil's bare body disappear into the water. "You coming in? It's way cooler in the water!" He shouts over to Steve, and Steve considers his options. He could join Phil in skinny-dipping, or he could deal with sleeping in wet boxers. He strips the thin fabric from his body, and wades into the water. It's infinitely cooler than the muggy air, and he feels considerably better for it.
"You stay over there, Punkster." Steve waves Phil away, as he paddles closer. "Eighteen, remember?" Phil laughs, and dives under the surface. Steve's not entirely surprised when there's a sharp tug on his ankle, pulling him under. He resurfaces to Phil's far too amused, and far too close face. "You're a brat, little one." Steve mutters, and Phil nods, his arms winding around Steve's neck.
"Yeah... I know." He whispers, before he presses his lips to Steve's. This kiss is a tentative as their first, but Steve finds himself taking charge a little, pulling Phil a little closer, only to release him quickly when their cocks brush. "Sorry." Phil grins, but doesn't look the least bit sorry at all. "I always wanted to kiss under the full moon naked in a lake."
"Specific desire, Punkster." Steve comments coolly, putting some distance between them. It'd been too much, far too much. The desire that had built in him from feeling Phil's naked body against his had been almost overwhelming. It'd been almost a miracle he'd thought to let go rather than pull Phil closer.
"I'm a specific person, Steve." He grins, and flops to lie on his back, floating aimlessly in the water. "It's true though... I always thought it'd be romantic." He laughs, righting himself. "And I was right." He smiles softly, and swims up to Steve. "I am sorry though... I'd promised myself I'd not kiss you again till I was eighteen... I don't want to make you even more uncomfortable with me." He smiles sadly, and Steve sighs, pulling him into an awkward half-hug.
"You're too much... I don't want to break the law, Punkster, and it's damnedly hard. You're too young. When you're older, if you still want to, we'll come here, and I promise I'll kiss you under the full moon." Steve presses a kiss to Phil's temple, and lets him go. "C'mon, I'll race you to the other side, and back."
They race a few times, and eventually deem themselves tired enough to sleep, slipping back into underwear before returning to the tent. Though there's a part of Steve that's disgusted with himself for the night's skinny-dipping, there's another part of him that's happy it happened, a part of him that's proud that he didn't let things get too out of hand, proud that as much as he wanted to, he didn't touch Phil's skin in the places usually hidden by clothes. He kept things as safe as he could, and for that, he's proud of himself.
Sunday they head back to the Ranch, and Steve writes, whilst Phil paints. Painting becomes the most common activity Phil does outside of helping on the Ranch. If he's not covered in dirt, he's covered in paint, and on the last night they spend in the same bed, Phil tells Steve that he's finished his painting, that tomorrow he'll finally let Steve see it. It's strange, but Steve's almost resentful of the painting. It consumed so much of Phil's precious time, but it's clearly something Phil's proud of, and in all honesty, Steve's more than a little interested in seeing it for himself.
The last day of July, Steve woke early, making breakfast for Phil, and taking it to what has been their room for about a month now. A little room, with a too small bed, a little dresser, an old wind up radio, and not too much else. A little room where Steve has held Phil every night, sleeping soundly, very rarely waking up unless Phil's trying to slip out of his embrace to go to the bathroom, or get up to start the day. A little room Steve intends to close and lock the door of until Phil comes back. He doesn't want anyone else picking this room, doesn't want any of the other kids coming next month to sleep in Phil's bed. This little room isn't for anyone other than Phil, and Steve is going to keep it that way.
"You cooked?" Phil mutters as Steve hands him breakfast in bed. "This actually looks good." He laughs, and Steve snorts, perching on the end of the bed with his own plate.
"I've been paying attention to my lessons, teacher." Steve smirks, and Phil glances away, his cheeks tinged red. "So... Last day, Punkster..." Steve doesn't really know what to say next, he's not prepared for this, not yet at least. Phil leaving is something he's known about for long enough now, but knowing and it being there is two different things.
"Yeah." Phil sighs softly, his eyes casting about the room as he eats. "I'm gonna miss this place." He looks miserable, and Steve almost wants to demand that he stays. If leaving is making Phil this unhappy, he should stay. "But, I have to go." He sounds more determined, and Steve reaches out to touch his still blanket covered ankle.
"You know, you don't ha-"
"I do, Steve." Phil smiles wryly. "I have to go, for me, for you... For the best." He sighs, and Steve nods finishing his food, and setting the empty plate on the floor. Hershey pads over to it, licking the remnants up. "If I stay-"
"I know... I know, but if you don't want to go... This is your home, Punkster. This will always be your home. First and foremost, you are safe here." Steve stares at him, willing Phil to understand that even if he stayed, even if Steve is attracted to him, nothing will happen to him, not until he's eighteen at least.
"Steve, believe me when I say that there is nowhere on the planet I feel safer than when I'm with you." Phil's eyes are narrowed, like he's reading the swirling doubts Steve has in his head. "I've never once felt unsafe with you, never." Phil sets his plate down, and grabs Steve's hand. "You know you're a good man, right? You know I love you because you're a good man, because I know that I'm safe with you, that you'd never do anything on purpose to hurt me."
"I've hurt you plenty, Punkster." Steve murmurs vaguely, his eyes drifting half-closed as he stares at his fingers entwined with Phil's.
"You have... But you didn't mean to. I know this has to have been... Weird." Phil laughs awkwardly, and moves closer to Steve, pulling him into a hug, tucking Steve's head under his chin. "I know it's been bothering you... I'm a male, I'm underage, I've been abused... I'm in your care." Phil squeezes Steve tightly as he winces at each reason Phil listed so easily. Those things have been playing on Steve's mind for months, and he's still not fully reconciled himself with them. "But, you never meant to hurt me. I know that Steve. I know it, you know it, and I forgive you for hurting me, because you stopped, because you're sorry, because you love me."
"I do, but still... I'm sorry I hurt you in the first place, I'm sorry about-"
"Are you sorry you're in love with me?" Phil asks suddenly, his arms tightening, and Steve pulls out of his hold.
"No." It's a plain answer, a plain honest answer to a fundamentally stupid question. Steve's sorry about a lot of things, but he's not sorry about loving Phil. He can't be, not when loving him makes Phil so very happy. "I'll never be sorry for that." Steve presses a kiss to Phil's forehead, and stands. "I'm gonna wash the dishes. Go shower... Then, I guess I should help you with all this packing." Steve laughs, waving his hand around the spartan little room. Phil's not collected a lot of things. Most of his clothes are already packed; in fact, the only thing that's still out is the painting on its easel, the whole thing covered with an old, greying sheet.
"When's Jim coming?" Phil gets out of bed, stretching, making his pyjama shirt ride up. The little trail of hair on his stomach is a little darker, a little thicker, but that could be said for all over Phil. He's more tanned, his lanky frame has filled out somewhat. Each day is one-step closer to him being a man, and strangely, Steve's excited to see what changes will happen whilst he's in Chicago. He's at once nervous and excited to see what Phil will look like when he comes down at Christmas with his family.
"Couple of hours." Steve mutters, wishing Jim had booked a later flight, but understanding why he booked the one he did. It's better for Phil to get to Chicago in the daylight, and in all honesty it's probably better that Steve doesn't have too long to spend mourning in front of Phil. Once he's gone, Steve can be as miserable as he likes, for a few weeks as least. Come the middle of August the next lot of kids are arriving, and they're going to need all of Steve's attention until the Owl moves herself into a room. He's looking forward to having the old woman move in, it'll be nice to have some adult company. The Owl is rather charming in an odd way, and if nothing else, she's tech savvy. She's already insisted on having proper internet access installed, and the man from the phone company is coming in a few days to set it all up. It'll be an adventure in learning that Steve's almost looking forward to, because it means he'll be able to call Phil, and listen to him ramble for as long as he wants. Steve's going to miss Phil's rambling, he's sure of that, so he's looking forward to the digitalised version of it.
"Too early." Phil groans, stumbling over Steve, and giving him a tight hug. "I don't wanna go so early." He mutters, his face pressed against Steve's neck.
"That's when Jim booked the flight, Punkster... Ain't nothing we can do about it." Steve holds him, his hands stroking down Phil's back. "Go on, shower." Phil nods, and steps away with a smile.
"I'm going, I'm going." He grumbles, grabbing the little bundle of clothes on the chair in the room. "I think I'm all packed. The only thing I need to do is let you see your present." He points over to the easel, a little grin on his face. "I'm hoping you like it." He wanders to the bathroom, and Steve gathers up the dishes, taking them to be washed.
Once Steve's finished the dishes, he makes a pot of coffee, and sets it on the kitchen table, a plate of cookies by it, then he sits down heavily. This is how it's going to be for a while, just him and Hershey for a few weeks before there's more kids in the house, before the Owl's in the house. A house without Phil. It's not going to feel like home, at least not as much as it does with Phil there, but it will be good for them both. He hopes it'll be good for Phil, he almost hopes that being away from the Ranch will burn Phil's crush on him out. It would be better for Phil to find a boy his own age, better for him to learn about love with someone with his experience level. Steve's not sure it would be better for him, but the main priority is Phil, it's always Phil.
"Hey... C'mere." Phil pokes his head around the kitchen door, a smile on his face, his too big, too green eyes filled with mirth. Even if it would be better for Phil to find someone his own age, Steve's selfish sickness is quietly screaming that it doesn't want him to, it wants Phil, and it knows that Steve wants Phil too. "So..." Phil catches Steve's hand when he comes closer, leading him into the little bedroom near the kitchen. "Be honest with me, I've been working on it all month, and I want honest opinions." He tugs the sheet off the easel, and squeezes Steve's hand.
"I... Punkster... It's..." Steve's slightly speechless. The painting is of the Ranch house. Asleep on the veranda is Hershey, perfectly captured in dainty little brush strokes, the trees are in full bloom, Steve's truck is parked off to the side, there's a little pen with a mean-looking turkey in it, even in paint Cranberry looks ill-tempered and prone to pecking, chickens are roaming the scene, a large brown one front and centre. "I see Hershey, Ma Brown, and Cranberry too..." Steve turns to Phil, and he fidgets slightly, a little blush on his cheeks.
"Well... You know... I had to include them, they're important to me." He smiles, squeezing Steve's hand once more. "The rest of it?" Steve smiles, and turns his attention to the figures sitting on the veranda, the couple on the swing are clearly Jim and Jan, the old woman leaning against the railing can only be the Owl, and then there's the last two figures standing in the doorway of the house itself. A bald man with his arm draped casually over the shoulders of a younger man, smiles on both their faces, the pose innocent enough to be nothing more than companionship, but to Steve the expression in the shorter, younger man's eyes is that look that he's always levelled with by Phil, and it belies the depth of the connection between the two men. That look he gets from Phil is more than just companionship, and it's been captured perfectly in this painting. "So... Do you like it?" Phil sounds slightly nervous, and Steve wraps him up in his arms, his back pressed against Steve's chest.
"I'm gonna have to get a hook for it somewhere... The living room, I think." Steve kisses the side of Phil's head. The painting is beautiful; perfect really. It captures everything that's been important over this year, from the fishing tackle in the back of the truck, to the plate of cookies in Jan's lap, to the tubes of paint on the railing by the Owl, to the letter tucked in the pocket of the painted figure of Steve himself. Every person, every thing that's meant something to Phil over the year is in this painting, and Steve almost can't wait to hang it on the wall and study it properly. He's sure he's missed things in it, is sure that there's more little symbols that's he's not seeing right now.
"You like it?" Phil repeats, his hands resting on Steve's arms, his head tilting back as much as he can, trying to see Steve's face.
"I love it." Steve kisses Phil's hair once more, and squeezes him tightly. "C'mon... I made coffee."
They talk of aimless things for a little while, drinking coffee and eating cookies, before Phil decides he should go make sure he has everything. Steve trails him, not wanting to miss a second of time with him, knowing that Jim will be there soon.
"You already to go?" Steve smiles slightly as he watches Phil zip his bag shut, after checking he'd packed everything. There's a forlorn look on his face as he surveys the little room he'd lived in for the best part of a year. "Hey...C'mere." Steve holds his arms out to Phil, and gathers him up when he comes closer. "The time'll fly by, you'll see... And if you change your mind, if you want to come home before Christmas, you just tell me, and your bed'll be waiting for you." Phil pulls back, and looks at him.
"Will you?" There's a pain in his voice, something timid and scared. Steve cups his face, and stares at him. It's hard to remember the child Phil had been when he'd first come to the Ranch. He's matured so much over the year, gotten so much taller, filled out so much more. He looks more like a man, he is more like a man, a slightly awkward, yet beautiful man, but still laden with the insecurities of youth. Insecurities that Steve's happy to address, and reassure against.
"Punkster... Our bed'll be waiting for you." He shouldn't, but Jim'll be by to pick Phil up shortly, and as Steve's not coming to the airport, this is his goodbye. The soft, timid, exploratory kiss he's giving Phil is his goodbye, and his reassurance. There's never going to be anyone else. Steve sure of it, and this kiss is his promise to Phil that no other woman, no other man will find their way into his heart, never again. He can wait for Phil. He will wait for Phil. One year together will have to be enough to endure their time apart, so then they can finally have forever.
Many thanks to the ladies and gentlemen who reviewed:
Lucien Raven Jacobs, plebs, AshJoivillette, littleone1389, Rebellecherry, Moiself, Brokenspell77, and Shiki94.
So... Last chapter... and it's a very long one. There's a little epilogue for this fic planned, that I'm hoping to get written up on Friday. Thank you so much for all the support this fic has recived... I think writing this has been one of the most nerve-wracking things I've ever done... Which either means I lead a very dull life, I cared about this more than I should have, or my nerves are wracked by very odd things...
Please review - it means a lot more than you realise.