Warnings: Future Slash (Colt/Punk) AU setting, Profanity
Each step through the school was an exercise in damage control, each thought pressing down around him made the glass shatter more, made each sharpened razor blade dig further into his mind. By the time Phil had made it to the front entrance of the school, he could feel sweat beading on his forehead, and bile rising up his throat.
'Scott?' It hurt to use the link but there was absolutely no way Phil was going to make it to the park under his own power, he wasn't too sure how long he could keep his legs from buckling under him, actually walking further was too daunting to consider.
'I'm here.' A soft almost whisper in his mind, then a strong arm around his waist. "I got you. C'mon." Phil wasn't in the mood to question how or why Scott as there, was just going to accept that he was. Scott eases Phil into the passenger's seat and stares down at him, worry bleeding over their link and so clear on Scott's face. "What happened?"
"Nothing good." The bile in Phil's throat is desperately close to escaping. 'Gonna hurl, move.' Vomiting is never fun, but hacking up nothing but bile makes his stomach ache and his throat burn. His retching making the pain in his head worse. Scott's hand rests on the back of his head, standing to the side, avoiding the splash of almost violently yellow vomit.
"I don't even know where to start with this..." He trails off, his fingers spreading over Phil's head, nails scratching at his scalp gently. "You're a mess, Phil." He steps away and gets in the car. "I'll take you home."
"Your place." Phil groans, sitting properly in the car, closing the door, and buckling the seat belt. "The less people, the better." He shuts his eyes and tries very hard to focus on nothing, to ignore the constant pain in his head. Scott makes a quiet little noise of agreement, and starts driving.
"I could..." After long while, he sighs, glancing over at Phil. "I could block your power, I don't know if it'll help the pain go away, but..." He sighs again, frustration bleeding over their link.
"Leave it, it's okay." Phil swipes at his forehead, the sweat still there, the pain in his head sharp and horrid, but blocking his talent might help make it a little better but silence when he's sleeping is one thing, when he's awake is another matter, he's not sure he could handle that.
"You sure." Scott turns to look at him as they sit at a stop light. "This is gonna take some time to fix... Don't they make it worse?" His concern seeping over their link, his eyes filled with worry.
"A little but I can give some of the pain to other people." Phil chuckles softly, it's difficult but it is possible for him to siphon off little trickles of pain to other people, as they've been driving, there's been a trail of people with grim headaches left in their wake.
"Gimme." Scott says firmly, his eyes back on the road.
"No." Phil closes his eyes again, he's not sharing this with Scott, not out of any sense of fairness, but because he wants him to be able to fix the problem when they get to Scott's place, if he's clutching his head in agony, he's not going to be feeling all that helpful.
"Phil." Scott's tone is low, demanding almost.
"No. Look, this hurts, it really hurts and if I share it with you, you'll hurt too and then who'll fix me?" Phil rubs his temples carefully, his eyes closed, stomach rebelling. The pain isn't lessening for all he keeps gifting little chunks of it to passersby. If anything, it seems to be getting worse.
"Hmm... Just don't puke in the car." Scott mumbles, over the link comes a jumble of tangled emotions, the omnipresent concern warring with angry, frustration and alarming amounts of worry.
By the time they make it to Scott's home, there are tears of pain stinging Phil's eyes, no matter how much he blinks them away, they keep reforming. He's never felt anything that even comes close to this agony. Scott parks the car and sits, his forehead resting against the wheel.
"I don't know if anyone's home." He says quietly, his voice rough. "I'll g-"
"No one." It was probably a stupid idea to look in the house, there were no minds inside, and the neighbours are all probably suffering from migraines right now, but Scott's house is empty of his family. Before Phil can really register what's going on, he's being removed from the car carefully and placed on his feet.
"Can you walk?" More of that impossible concern and Scott peering at him with worry on his face. Phil doesn't get a change to answer; Scott just picks him up, and carries him to the front porch, setting him down carefully to open the door. Once it's open Phil slinks in past Scott, unimpressed with being carried like a helpless damsel. "Go lie down." Scott waves his hand at Phil, flicking through the mail, then following along to his bedroom. Once Phil's lying down, he perches on the edge of the bed and frowns. "A mess." He mutters, taking Phil's hand in his.
"Sorry." Phil groans, closing his eyes and focussing on the feeling of Scott's thumb moving over the back of his hand. "My sub is... I dunno... I can't even start explaining what he is." Phil sighs, turning onto his side. "You gonna fix me?" He mutters, and Scott laughs quietly.
"I'll try..." He frees his hand from Phil's, getting on the bed behind him, his arms looping around Phil's waist, his chest pressed against Phil's back.
"Uh... The fuck?" It'd definitely a far more intimate position than Phil has ever found himself in, and it worries him that he finds it more comfortable than he perhaps should, there's something that makes him feel safe with Scott plastered against his back.
"It's easier to fix you if I'm touching you." Scott sounds horribly embarrassed, his chin resting on the top of Phil's head, his arms wrapped about his waist, leaving Phil feeling like he's been bundled up in a living cocoon.
"You just wanna grope me." He tries to offset how comfortable he feels with humour, and something like dread mixed with guilt bleeds over the link.
"Well you are very grope-able... Uff, that's not how I wanted that to come out..." Scott laughs awkwardly, his arms squeezing Phil ever so slightly. It's almost painful to realise that that's what Scott's wanted all along, another person added to the long list of people who just want to fuck him.
"I'm sure that's not how you wanted to come out either." Phil mutters, focussing on the pain of his headache, a pain that is so much easier to focus on, as opposed to the ache in his chest. Friends don't really exist he knew that, he'd just hoped that maybe Scott was different to the average people who want him, had hoped that maybe Scott had only wanted a friend too, but probably at the root of this whole friend thing is the desire to fuck Phil.
"Hmm, no... Not really." Scott sighs. "Fuck this guy did a real number on you." A little of the pain eases. "That any better?" Scott mutters, that horrid concern bleeding over their link.
"A bit. You're gay?" Phil wishes he'd not asked that, wishes he could take it back, because there's a spike of something horribly betrayed coming over their link.
"I... That a problem?" Scott sounds defensive, he feels defensive, and Phil can't really decide if it's a problem a problem or not. Sex, his own sexuality, it's not something he's ever really considered carefully, it's always been something other people have scribed to him, and he's used their preconceptions of it to his advantage. "I'm not gonna try and fuck you, if that's the problem, Phil." More of the pain fades, it's easier for Phil to think, and he's not sure that Scott being gay is a problem, especially if he's not actively looking for sex, if anything, it might be advantageous really. "I can't..." He sighs, more of the pain vanishing, Phil's headache reduced to a low pulsing.
"What?" Phil turns in Scott's arms, definitely too intimate, but there's something horrible wounded about the feeling that's bleeding over their link, and he wants to help his friend, even just as a little payment for his taking Phil's pain away twice now, or for providing him with his first good night's sleep more than likely ever. "What is it?" Scott shakes his head, takes a hand from around Phil's waist and brushes his fingers over Phil's forehead; the last of the pain melts under Scott's touch. This blissful pain free feeling is something Phil could so very easily get used to, even if Scott's motivations for being his friend are based solely on attraction, Phil definitely gets plenty out of this friendship.
"Better?" He asks, stalling, refusing to answer Phil's question. Right now, it would be so easy to pluck the answer from him, he's clearly thinking about it, so it'd be right there for Phil to take, but this is something big, something personal, something Scott doesn't want to think about, and respecting that's important to Phil.
"It's okay." Phil smiles at him, wrapping his arms around Scott, and pulling himself closer. "Everyone has secrets they don't want to share."
"Even you?" Scott's hand settles on Phil's waist once more, not moving, just resting there, warm and solid.
"Especially me." Phil laughs, there are times he feels like he's nothing but secrets, his own, other peoples, his whole brain filled with secrets, just waiting to be cracked open like a piñata.
"Other people's secrets don't count." Scott snorts, his thumb moving over Phil's back, the little gesture is nice, better than nice but Phil isn't certain he has the right words to describe how it feels, not really at least.
'I've my own secrets, Scott... I'm not exactly a good person.' He's not sure if lying cuddling like this is a good idea, but he likes being held like this, likes feeling Scott wrapped around him, it feels safe, and safe isn't something that Phil feels very often.
'I... You can tell me?' It's far more a question than anything else, trepidation and concern radiating from Scott, his thumb still restlessly moving.
'I could, that is something I could do...' Phil curls up to his chest more, tucking his head under Scott's chin, still feeling wonderfully safe, hiding from the cynicism his talent forces on him, hiding from knowing that people are inherently selfish creatures, whilst being horribly selfish himself, hiding from everything he'd rather not have to deal with. The rest of the World forgotten, the only thoughts that matter in this moment are his own, and the soft hum of Scott's mind.
'But?' Scott's chin rests on top of his head, his arms tighten a little around him, something content and settled drifts over their link, Scott's thoughts gently steeped in that soft melodic tone.
'Ah... But...' Phil chuckles, burrowing a little closer, he's aware he's probably sending all kinds of mixed signals right now, tensing and snuggling up as and when the mood takes him, but he has no real answers for his actions.
'I told you one of mine, seems only fair.' Scott has a point, a childish one but a point all the same.
'Really? You're pulling that on me? How old are you?' Phil snorts, one hand tapping Scott's back.
'I'm just saying, is all.' He sounds amused, but over the link there's a hint of concern, always it seems there's that hint of concern from Scott when it comes to Phil, always worrying, he's going to give himself ulcers at this rate.
'Fine... I...' Phil tries to decide on one secret that's big enough to match coming out but not so big that it scares Scott away, and there's so many things that might do just that. 'I... A little secret or the worst thing I've ever done?'
'How bad can the worst thing you've ever done be?' Scott laughs over their link. Phil's fairly certain that his worst thing is bad enough, after all, murder is infinitely worse than being gay, more than likely worse than anything Scott's ever done. 'It's not like you've killed someone.' He laughs aloud, and Phil freezes, is absolutely certain that he's bleeding panic over their link. Scott pulls back from him, his hands tightening on Phil's shoulders. 'You killed somebody?' He sounds incredulous, horror and awe mixing. Phil manages a tiny little nod, then, he's up, off the bed and out of the door before Scott can say or do anything.
Over their link comes nothing, just the quiet buzz of Scott's thoughts. Phil ended up in a church nearby, sitting in the back row, watching an old woman on her knees praying, waiting for her to finish before granting her forgiveness. He's granted everyone who enters his church forgiveness, clemency is the watchword for the afternoon. The clergyman looks at him oddly when he appears, scowling at Phil, his thoughts taking on a harsh tone, worried that Phil's on drugs or drunk, wanting him gone. It's then that Phil moves on to the next church, moving steadily further from Scott's house, and closer to the city.
Hours later, he ends up in the park, it's definitely not safe being there on his own so late at night, but the invisible man trick is proving to be as effective on members of the general public, as it is on his family.
"You, sir, are a difficult man to find. Here, I didn't know what you liked so I got you something plain." Scott sits heavily on the bench beside him, and hands him a takeout bag from some burger joint.
"Thanks." Phil starts eating, staring out into the darkness. "How'd you fi-"
"Your brain is a fucking mess, Phil." Scott slurps obnoxiously loud through his straw, no emotions bleed over their link, just a quiet buzzing. "So... You killed someone?"
"Yeah." Phil scrunches the wrapping from his burger into a ball and tosses it into the trashcan.
"Wanna talk about it?" Scott slurps again then hands over the cup; Phil sips more quietly, and sighs.
"No." He's not entirely certain of the honesty of that statement. On one hand, he'd like to get it off his chest, to share this grime little secret with someone, but on the other, the absolute last thing he ever wants to think of is that moment when that man's mind was snuffed out, like pulling a bulb from a string of Christmas lights, just gone.
"Kay." Scott doesn't say anything else, just sits there quietly, his mind buzzing quietly. "My first, well my only, boyfriend." He says eventually, Phil turns to look at him, but Scott is staring ahead, the buzzing of his mind is him lost in the memory. "We started dating when we were fourteen, very hush-hush, no one knew... No one." He shifts slightly. "After a while, he decides we should try having sex, you know, horny teenagers." He laughs, and Phil nudges him with his shoulder.
"You're still a teenager, you make yourself sound like an old man, Colton." Phil smiles slightly, and catches Scott's hand, it seems like this is the kind of story that will be told better with physical contact.
"Quiet, you ungrateful punk, I'm telling you a story." His thumb starts moving over the knuckles of Phil's fingers, slowly stroking the skin. "Anyway... We start, you know..."
"Fucking?" Phil can't resist the urge to try and lighten Scott's mood, his voice is emotionless, so openly closed, so unlike how Scott should be.
"Making love? Nah, fucking you're right, and it's good... Really good, only... The closer I get the less control I have, you know?" He laughs awkwardly, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. Phil stares at him, a thousand different thoughts running through his mind.
"Is he okay?" He croaks out, Scott nods slowly.
"Yeah, yeah... He's fine now, but I... I couldn't risk that happening again so I broke it off, no explanations, no nothing, just... Done." He sighs, squeezing Phil's hand, before dropping it. "He tried to kill himself, moved schools in the end... I... I ruined his life." He's not sure why, but resting his head on Scott's shoulder, wrapping his arm around his waist, pulling him closer, it seems like the right thing to do. "I think I was in love with him, and I ruined his life." Scott sits very still, his mind buzzing very quietly.
"I'm sorry..." Phil whispers softly, feels Scott shrug in his arms, and sighs, closing his eyes. "I was like nine, and my parents were distracted... I think I was a cute kid or something, cause there was always some fucking creep planning to do something to me, but this one..." Scott's arms wrap around him tightly, pulling him into an all encompassing embrace, the odd safe feeling coming over Phil again. "He grabbed me, nothing more... But I was scared and I dunno... He was on the floor, his brain kind of oozing outta his ears. My mom was screaming at me, and I was just kind of... I dunno." Phil sighs; Scott's hand is running through his hair, the front of his shirt is growing damp with tears Phil wishes he wasn't shedding.
'In shock? Scared?' Scott's mental voice is quiet, gentle, like the touches to Phil's hair. 'We're both a fucking mess, huh?' He laughs softly, and a slightly insane sounding burst of laughter escapes from Phil.
'Two peas in a pod.' He pulls back from Scott, a smile on his face. 'So, I believe we were going to have a strategy meeting here...' Scott looks at him like he's insane, and Phil laughs at him. "What? We need to plan!"
"Right now? Phil, it's fucking after midnight..." Scott starts, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes focussed on Phil's. "We have school tomorrow..." Phil smiles at him, after midnight sounds like a perfectly reasonable time for planning how to deal with the Heyman situation. "And you're insane, stop grinning like that." Phil tries to wipe the smile off his face, but he's painfully away the attempt falls brutally flat. All Scott does is raise an eyebrow, and a sliver of exhaustion comes over their link, as Scott hides a yawn behind his hand. "It's late, I gotta drive back. Tomorrow?" He stands, rubbing at his eyes.
"Later today. You gonna be okay to drive, Scott?" He looks tired, his eyes ringed with red, his perpetual smile missing.
"Yeah, be fine. You want me to take you home?" His smile drags itself over his lips, and Phil returns it, he's not really sure what the hell happened today, and it's going to require some careful thought, but it seems he and Scott are still friends, it seems as though nothing has changed, even if it feels like it has. "Wait... You're not gonna sleep are you?" Concern, perpetual concern, Phil's beginning to think he's going to have to get used to that from Scott, that constant glut of concern directed at him.
"Go, don't worry bout me. Get your ass home, Colton." Phil smiles slightly, and turns to leave. "G'night."
'I... G'night, Phil.'
The next day, over their link all Phil can hear from Scott is a vaguely sleepy buzz. Clearly, he'd not slept enough, and Phil can sympathise, he didn't sleep a wink. His own mind had been buzzing, carefully pushing the incident with Scott aside and focussing on Heyman instead. Kentucky, the temporary facility, Developmental... He's certain that Heyman, despite his assurances, doesn't work for anyone with his best interests at heart. He's either a government employee or working for some private business, and that really would be worse, because what private company would want to amass people with talents? There's got to be all kinds of nefarious things that you could do with a private army of people with powers. Take a telepath for example, with just one person you could screen an entire nation and know the intent of every person in it, for a guy as strong as Heyman it'd probably be the work of an afternoon to reveal terrorist cells, dissenters, rebels, philanthropists, perverts, and everything in between. Combine that with Scott's power and there's no limit to what you could do. You could force presidents to launch nuclear strikes, send good men to assassinate better ones, force anyone to physically carry out anything against their will. There is the chance that Heyman was being honest when he said that his employers only want what's best for Phil, but he doesn't believe that, not for one second, not when Heyman's mind is locked up so tight behind his shields. No one with nothing to hide, hides that carefully.
After school, Phil had headed straight to the park, grabbing a bag of old bread from some store and settling on his bench, tearing it up and tossing it to the birds, watching them pecking at it. He can't so much read their minds as he is aware of them, simple little spikes of something utterly foreign to him. Animals aren't like people, their minds are too alien to Phil, he can't judge if they're thinking, or just running on instinct.
'Where the hell are you?' Scott still sounds miserably tired.
'Usual spot.' Phil mutters back, sending a little mental prompting to the old man sitting on the other end of the bench to move, watching as he disturbs the birds with his shuffling away.
"Usual spot, seriously... Why the fuck do you have a usual spot in a park?" Scott flops down on the bench, his head thrown back, arms splayed along the back of it. "Fuck... Today was long." He yawns, and Phil laughs at him, tossing more bread to the birds, watching as they cautiously hop back over to him, with excited little chirps and territorial wing flaps at each other.
"Rough day?" Phil glances over at Scott; his eyes are closed, dark marks under them.
"I'm dying." He yawns, scrubbing at one eye. 'I have no fucking idea how you operate on so little sleep.'
'Years of practice...' Phil chuckles and tosses more bread out. "Have a nap. Strategy'll keep for an hour or two." Scott yawns again, and nods vaguely.
"Yeah, kay." It takes him less than no time to fall asleep, and Phil glances over at him, his eyebrows raised. An elderly couple shoot them an odd look, their thoughts turning to the corruption of youth and how in their day there'd be none of this. Phil scowls over at them, planting the idea in the wife's head to castrate the husband for years ofmental abuse, sowing the seeds for an obsession with women's underwear in the husband's. Cruel perhaps, but Phil has never once claimed to be a good person. He wraps an arm around Scott's shoulders, tugging him closer to spite the homophobic pair. Mixed signals again for Scott when he wakes up certainly, but it feels rather like proving a point, to whom Phil's not entirely sure but he's vaguely content to feel like he's in the right with this. Scott's dreams are quiet little things, that don't really intrude, quiet and controlled, like Scott's mind in general. His story, told on this very bench last night, that explains why his mind is so very locked down. He scared of hurting someone else, scared of his power, but really aren't they both? Scott scared of hurting other people, of losing control and Phil of losing himself. There's more than a few threads binding them together, more than a few touchstones in their mutual concerns and fears. They're surprisingly complimentary, or at least Scott is surprisingly complimentary to Phil. What exactly he gets out of helping Phil is still a bit of a mystery, but he doesn't seem to mind, seems to enjoy it really. Phil sits on the bench, feeding his birds till the bread runs, getting random shitty pop songs stuck in his head thanks to joggers, painfully aware of Scott's head resting on his shoulder the whole time. It actually comes as a surprise when the first spike of absolute dread comes from Scott, his dreams taking a dark turn, seemingly.
"I don't wanna hurt you, and..." Scott pulls Phil closer to his chest, strokes his hair back from his face, places a soft kiss to his forehead.
"You won't" Phil gazes up at him, eyes soft hazy, a gentle smile on his lips. "I trust you."
"You shouldn't, you naive little punk." A quite little admission, something bitter and dark in the tone it's given in.
"You couldn't hurt me, even if you wanted to, Colton. I'm not some normal person." A wryly-amused tone to Phil's voice. "I'm a fucking god compared to them. You won't hurt me... Alls you've done, alls you'll do is keep me safe." Another smile, a gloriously indulgent smile on Phil's lips.
Scott's mind is slowly blinking awake and Phil glances over at him, surprised that he dreams of Phil, dreams of him through such rose-tinted glasses, the green of his eyes was brighter, the bags under them smaller, the smile on his face more beautiful, Phil in general beautiful, and that's not exactly something that makes Phil comfortable.
"You awake?" Phil says, loudly, as cheerfully as he can manage, forcing the snippet of Scott's dream from his mind, and easing Scott back to sit up, getting a vague groan in response.
"I'm good, I'm good. Though if napping on this bench is gonna be a cornerstone of our friendship, I'm demanding some padding, my butt's fallen asleep." Scott stands stretching, scaring the few remaining sparrows away.
"Well, now that you and your butt are well-rested perhaps we can discuss what we're gonna do Saturday." Phil stretches his legs out in front of him, watching Scott as he bounces on the spot. He's an odd person, warming up to sit on his ass.
'Warming up is very important, you lazy punk.' Scott mutters over their link, and Phil blinks at him in confusion, he'd not sent that thought over the link, hadn't intended to let Scott hear it. "What?" Scott asks as he sits back down.
"Nothing." Phil shakes his head, suddenly worried how many of his thoughts bleed over to Scott, worried how much of himself he's giving away without even being aware of it.
"If you say so..." Scott shrugs, an odd little smile on his face, and his hand rubbing at the back of his neck.
"I do." Phil says firmly, a grin on his face. 'So... our plan is what?' He wishes there was more bread to feed the birds with. No doubt, they look very odd sitting on a bench doing nothing, not even talking, but the park is pretty empty, everyone busy eating.
'You've not thought about it? I don't believe that for a second.' Scott laughs and grins over at Phil.
"I've some ideas, but really... I'm not sure. This whole thing is... It's sketchy." Phil sighs, tucking his legs up under him, turning to look at Scott.
"Agreed, but we can't not go... There's too much we don't know about this Developmental thing... And really, I don't think we got much choice..." He rubs the back of his neck again.
"No... Choices don't seem like something we have many of, really." Phil sighs, and grabs Scott's wrist, dragging his arm down. 'You'll rub a hole through your fucking neck.'
'Nervous habit?' He grins and frees his wrist from Phil's light hold, then laces his fingers with Phil's own. Phil glances down at their joined hands but says nothing, not entirely comfortable with the idea of calling Scott on the casually intimate touch.
"Heyman said he'd be meeting me at my school." The invisible man trick is proving to be the most useful thing in the World, as a group of some kids with violent walk past them without a single glance.
"Heyman?" Scott snaps, his hand squeezing Phil's. "That the guy who did a number on your head?" He sounds angry, furious protectiveness seeping over their link.
"It is... Do me a favour?" Phil tries to placate him, sending something soothing and soft to counter the anger being forced on him.
"Course." Scott's thumb starts stroking over Phil's skin, a lazy little smile settling on his face.
"When we meet him, see if you can see what gives him his shields." If Scott can work out which parts of Phil's brain are responsible for his power, then there's a chance that he can see which parts of Heyman's let him have that impenetrable wall around his mind, and if Scott can find that, then he can show Phil. Better yet, if he can find them, he can disable them, and Phil can go pilfering through Heyman's mind the same way he did to Phil.
"Shields?" Surprise floods their link, it seems that Scott had assumed that all telepaths were as vulnerable as Phil, but to be fair, until meeting Heyman, Phil had too.
"Yup... Find them for me." Phil grins over a Scott, and gets a one in response.
"Will do... But I want you to do something for me." Scott says quietly, uncertainly.
"What?" Phil scoots a little closer, his thigh pressing against Scott's.
"My sub, he's picking me up at my school, then we're going to get you I guess... I want to know what he knows... Can you..." He trails off, staring into the distance.
"Can I?" Phil prompts him, squeezing his fingers.
'It's a stupid question... Brains aren't like computers, you can't just copy and paste...' Scott sighs, and looks very much like he wants to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment.
'Well, I can... Kind of... But the brain knowing it can do something and the body being able to... Oh! I see... You got the muscle memory but not the mental processes to be able to do whatever mysterious skill it is you want.' Phil chuckles and Scott scowls.
"Who doesn't wanna be able to do parkour?" He tries to tug his hand back from Phil, but Phil's fingers tighten, refusing to release him.
"Fuck yes! Teach me, I wanna be able to climb up buildings." Phil grins over at him, and Scott shakes his head.
"Fuck no, you're hard enough to find in a fucking park, you illusive punk." Scott scoffs, and stops trying to free his hand from Phil's.
"Elusive, Colton, elusive. I am not deceitful." Phil frowns over at him. 'Well... Not that deceitful.' Another group of volatile youths walk past without noticing them, and Scott barks a laugh.
"You, my illusive punk, would deceive the heavens if you thought it'd be for your own gain." He stands with a laugh, pulling Phil up with him.
"Fuck you, Colton." Phil scowls at him, planting his feet, and refusing to be budged.
"Don't worry, I'd be right there, helping as much as I could. We're in this together, Phil. I don't believe in luck, or fate... But us meeting has been..." He trails off trying to think of the right word.
"Fortuitous." Phil supplies for him, letting him drag him forward. 'Where we going?'
"To eat, I'm hungry."
They end up in some pizza place, the cheapest, largest pizza they could afford between them, Scott devouring his share and Phil picking at his, eating more sedately.
"You're right." Phil says eventually, sipping at his soda. "We are in this together... Come Saturday we stick together."
'Agreed.' Scott keeps chewing his slice of pizza, watching Phil carefully. 'Eat, I worry.'
"Yes, mother." Phil starts eating with more vigour, he's used to having to eat slowly, used to having to gauge how hungry he actually is against how hungry the people around him are. Some days he eats so much, he's sick, others he eats nothing. It's a tricky thing to balance.
"Good man." Scott grins, gulping at his own soda. "So we stand united, we info gather on the subs, the facility, everything we can, then we regroup and copulate the information."
"What?" Phil squawks, he's going to have to ask Scott his birthday so he can buy him a dictionary, or a thesaurus, something to help him with this whole word thing.
"Uh... I mean correlate, don't I?" Scott rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish.
"I imagine so, yes." Phil laughs at him, knowing he's bleeding a sliver of some fond emotion over their link. "We're surprisingly efficient planners really, even if our plan's not all that sophisticated... It should be solid... Be careful with Heyman, though, he's strong." Phil's smile falls from his lips, and Scott looks at him.
"I won't let him hurt you again, okay? You're my friend, I'll look out for you." A torrent of determination bleeds over the link and Phil nods.
"I'll return him his favour." His eyes narrowed. "One day, Mr Heyman is going to regret his actions." A smirk bleeds over Phil's lips, and Scott kicks his ankle.
"You look like supervillain. You're supposed to be Professor X, not Magneto, you evil punk." A grin is on Scott face, and Phil smirk is replaced with a softer smile.
"But the bad guys always have more fun, Colton." The smirk back on Phil's face.
"Too bad, good guys are always attacked first, it's like the law of comics. Based on comic logic, you my friend, are the eponymous hero, and I'm gonna die at the end of the first character arc to give you motivation." Scott chuckles and leans back in his chair. "Or join the bad guys so we can have an epic fight... One or the other."
"Asshole, this isn't some comic... Besides, you're not going anywhere I n-" Phil cuts himself off, distracting a waitress to come over and take their empty tray. Scott, thankfully doesn't call him on it, just follows him out of the restaurant.
"Right, let's go." He grabs Phil's wrist and starts walking towards his car.
'Where are we going now? It's getting late.' Not that Phil has anywhere he particularly needs to be, he won't sleep tonight, his mind is too busy, so it'll be another round of playing god all night.
'Home. Get in.' Scott opens the passenger's side door and holds it open, forcing Phil's feet to move when all he does is stand there staring at Scott.
'I can get home myself, you know.' Phil clambers into the car under his own power, and Scott closes the door behind him.
"Sure, you could, but you're not going there." He says as he gets in, and starts the car. "We need you to be on top of your game come Saturday." Concern over their link, Phil's actually looking forward to there being a day when Scott isn't horribly concerned about him. "You're coming home with me."
'You're sure?' Scott doesn't answer Phil's question, just looks at him and touches his temple gently with one finger, moving Phil's hair from his face. 'Whatever, Colton, whatever.'
The rest of the week is strange for Phil, it's strange coming to school well rested, strange having a routine that's so involved with someone else. Each day they meet in the park, feed the birds, talk shit, go eat, then sneak into Scott's house to sleep, Phil's hand help firmly in Scott's, the rest of the World muted thanks to Scott's gift. It's depressingly the nicest week of Phil's life. A week that for so many other people would be completely and utterly uninteresting is in fact the most pleasant he's ever had, and that is kind of sad really.
Last period on Friday comes around far too quickly for Phil's liking. Tomorrow is time to put their plan into action, not that it's much of plan, gathering information, and sticking together, but it's better than nothing, and if this Developmental thing is as sketchy as they both think it is, then they'll want to split them up, kidnap them for some more than likely less than good purpose.
When he walks into the classroom, ready to face Heyman's slimy nature and shielded mind, he's feeling rather content, but Heyman isn't there. In his place is the normal teacher, and no one mentions the last few classes where they had a substitute, no one seems to notice when the teacher starts teaching the same lesson Heyman did when he first appeared. A quick dart into the teachers mind shows a gaping hole where the time she wasn't in class should be, further investigation, checking the minds of his classmates shows no traces of Heyman. All memories of the slimy man and his leering smile have been erased. Phil sits there and panics, tomorrow morning, he and Scott are going to be so in out of their depth.
Many thanks to the lovely Ladies and Gentlemen who reviewed:
shiki94, Rebellecherry, littleone1389, and Brokenspell77.
No Heyman this time, just some more bonding between our eponymous heroes... Next chapter will be our little trip to the temporary facility.
As ever trepidation haunts me with this fic... as such: Please leave a review, even if it's just "Hey, that didn't suck", I'd be so far and beyond grateful. Heck even if you thought it did suck, tell me too, something is better than nothing after all. :D