Warnings: Future Slash (Colt/Punk) AU setting, Profanity, Brief mentions of torture of a minor.
"Having usual spot does make you easier to find, I guess." Phil doesn't acknowledge it when Scott sits down by him. He's too distracted by his mind buzzing, panicking if he's entirely honest, because no one remembered Heyman, not a single soul in the whole school remembered that greasy little man and his ugly skullet. Their minds wiped like a blackboard. Phil has tried that before, has tried to remove things from people's minds, but his efforts have always left his experiments damaged. He'd given it up as a lost cause, but Heyman can do it. Heyman can pluck himself from people's minds and not leave them curled up on the floor gibbering, and Phil wants that. He wants to know Heyman's tricks, wants the skills Heyman has, he might not trust the man in the least but the tricks he could teach Phil, he wants those so badly he can taste it. "You have a good day? It was fucking long, huh? Phil... Phil?" 'PHIL!'
"Huh? Sorry was miles away..." He shakes his head and smiles apologetically at Scott. 'I've got a question... It's a weird one...' He can feel curiosity oozing from Scott, curious about Phil's question, about what has him so distracted, curious in general.
"Shoot." Scott stretches his legs out in front of him and his arms along the back of the bench. "But, I think I know the question, and yes." His smile fades, replaced with a tight look of concern. "Not one of the guys remembered the sub, not one." Phil glances over at him and stands, pacing, feeling unsettled.
"I want what he has..." Phil mutters, walking up and down in front of Scott, scaring the few hopeful sparrows away. "I want his dirty little tricks for my own... But how to get them." Scott holds a leg up, blocking Phil's pacing.
"Heyman's bag of tricks?" He asked, eyes narrowed and the omnipresent concern bleeding over their link.
"Who else? Fuck him, I wanna be able to do what he can." Phil scowls, stepping round Scott to continue pacing.
"Well... I guess you'll have to take him up on this training thing then." Scott shrugs, but nothing comes over the link, just a quiet little buzz. Phil turns to look at him, a frown on his face.
"It might not be that bad... I mean training would serve a purpose but..." Phil sighs and flops down on the grass by the bench, staring up at the sky, watching the big fluffy white clouds drifting along. 'I don't wanna be trapped anymore, Scott...' He closes his eyes and sighs again, feeling rather stupidly childish.
'Well, freedom comes with a price? I don't know, Phil...' Scott's finger moves Phil's hair from his face and he opens his eyes looking at his friend, concern on Scott's face as well as over the link. 'What's keeping you trapped?'
'What's... Don't you feel trapped, Scott?' Phil sits up, and rests his chin on the armrest of the bench. 'We might have talents but we're surrounded by people who've got no idea.' Scott looks at him, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"It's a good thing they don't know, Phil... They'd... Damn it, you're supposed to Professor X not Magneto! Evil little punk that you are." He laughs, and rubs the back of his neck. "Our talents... They're not something for everyone, I guess... But that doesn't mean they trap us..."
"Easy for you to say, Colton. You don't have every fucker for blocks pouring every mundane thought they have into your head." Phil stands, stretching and dusting his clothes off, desperately hoping he didn't lie in dog shit.
"No... I guess I don't." Scott smiles sadly, and rubs the back of his neck again. "You said you could show me what it's like though... So show me." He stands, catching Phil's wrist. "Show me what it's like to be you, Phil." He sounds so painfully earnest, that Phil can't help but laugh at him.
"You don't wanna know, Scott... Trust me." Phil shakes Scott off his wrist, and starts walking away, walking for the sake of movement. "It's hard... I don't want you to have to deal with it."
"C'mon, we'll eat, then head home. There's less people out in the burbs. You can give me a little taste of being Professor X." Scott grins at him, and catches Phil's wrist again. "If I could I'd return the favour, Phil." His thumb strokes over Phil's veins, a wry little smile on his face. "You know that, right?" Phil nods dumbly, not sure what the feeling that's seeping over their link is, but enjoying it all the same. 'This is gonna sound cheesy, but you're the first friend I've had that I can be honest with.' Scott drops his wrist, and smiles at him.
'You're my first friend.' Phil laughs, miserably aware that that statement is horribly true, and utterly embarrassed by that fact, he stuffs his hands in his pockets to quell the urge to reach out to Scott. He assumes that bleeding over the link is what friendship feels like, and as much as he likes it, there's a part of him that wants it to be a little more, more what he's not sure, but he wants more all the same.
Once they're back in Scott's place, Phil flops on the bed and closes his eyes. All this time with Scott lately, it's been so painfully enjoyable; it's stupidly good having a friend, someone he can trust, someone who's motives, whilst confusing, seem to be pure. He looks over at Scott with a fond smile, he's busy sorting through the mountain of clothes on the chair, trying to find something clean to wear to bed, tossing items of clothing that belong to Phil at him.
"When did you start keeping clothes here, anyway?" Scott asks him throwing a band shirt at Phil's face.
"I made a stop at my parents place Tuesday... Figured I should probably change clothes and well I've been here all week." He laughs and changes his shirt, catching the clean pair of boxers that come flying at him, changing into them as quickly as possible.
"My mom's gonna start thinking I'm sneaking some boyfriend in." Scott laughs, and shakes his head. Phil can feel a blush on his cheeks, but he steadfastly ignores it for fear of its existence somehow being communicated to Scott over their link, if he acknowledges it.
"Lie down." Phil mutters, flicking out the light, listening as Scott gets settled on the bed. "Comfy?" He lies down on what is essentially his side of the bed, and stares up at the ceiling. "I don't want to do this." He says quietly, and Scott takes his hand, stoking his skin softly. "I just want that to go down on record." He laughs and closes his eyes, letting his power seep through him, and carefully dribbling a little over the link, increasing it when Scott squeezes his hand gently. When the flow through to Scott is maybe half of what Phil deals with on a daily basis, he doesn't let any more bleed over, just leaves the link open, everything pressing on Phil's mind being leaked over to Scott at half volume.
"Fuck, it's noisy." Scott gasps, squeezing Phil's hand tightly. "How the hell do you deal with that?" He pulls Phil closer to him, so that they're pressed together from shoulder to hip.
"You get used to it." Phil shrugs, stopping the feed to Scott, the pain from a headache coming from him. "How's your head?" Phil smiles at him, nudging his shoulder.
"Fuck getting used to it... No wonder your brains a fucking mess." Scott rubs his temple, and pulls Phil into an awkward hug. 'Thank you... I... Thank you.' He squeezes Phil tightly then let's go, squirming on the bed, settling in to sleep. "Tomorrow, I guess we can both get picked up at my school?" Phil pulls away from Scott almost reluctantly, settling on his stomach, his back turned, one arm thrown out behind him, grateful when Scott takes his outstretched hand.
"I guess... Scott, nothing good is going to come of tomorrow." Phil sighs, feels Scott squeeze his hand.
"Nope, but we'll stick together." 'I'll look after you, Phil... You just be sure to return the favour.' Scott laughs over the link, the warm, happy feeling bleeding over it again.
'Sure... What are friends for?'
The next morning, Phil and Scott stand in the cold outside of Scott's school, waiting for someone to arrive and pick them up.
"Will you stand still? You're making me nervous with all this fidgeting." Scott rests a hand on Phil's shoulder, trying to still the nervous squirming he's engaged in.
"Sorry... It's just... Fuck, I don't know..." Phil starts pacing, his eyes trained on the ground, listening to the sleepy minds around them. "Nothing good is gonna come of this... I can feel it." He glances up at Scott.
"I know, but this... It's not gonna help, Phil." Scott rubs the back of his neck and stops Phil's feet from moving. "C'mere." Scott pulls him into a hug. 'It'll be okay. We go in together, we gather info together, we go out together, easy.' Phil closes his eyes, resting his chin over Scott's shoulder, staring at the only other people on the street. A couple, two men, wrapped up in each other's presence, paying absolutely no attention to anything around them. The taller of the two needs a haircut, is all Phil thinks as he stares at them, he's far too old for such long hair. Suddenly the smaller of the pair starts laughing, there's a brief urge to find out what's so funny, but it seems like far too much effort tracing which thoughts, in the jumble around him, belong to the laughing man.
'I hope you're right, Colton.' Phil steps away from Scott after giving him a firm slap on the back. 'I hope you're right.'
'Yeah... Me too.' Scott smiles rather sadly and rubs the back of his neck, eyes narrowing as a nondescriptly beige car pulls up.
"Mr Brooks... What an unexpected surprise." Heyman gets out of the vehicle and smiles at Phil, his eyes flickering over him rapidly. "I was under the impression we'd be meeting elsewhere." Heyman opens the backdoor, ushering Scott in, but stopping Phil. "I have to admit, I've very much missed our lessons." He squeezes Phil's shoulder, and closes the car door once Phil's settled inside. "Well, Mr Lesnar, if you'd like to get us to where we're going."
'That your sub, Scott?' Phil asks once they're in the car, driving to the mysterious temporary facility.
'That's him... Can you?' Scott glances over at Phil, absently moving his hand and brushing his fingers over Phil's, the casual touch infinitely more pleasant than the brief moment Heyman's hand was on him.
'Already have... My favour?' Phil smiles as Scott stares at him in mild awe. It hadn't been too difficult to find information in the mind of the driver, it was organised like a library, all neatly compartmented. Phil would be lying if he said he hadn't borrowed some other useful insights, but there was nothing about Heyman in there, no matter how he'd poked around he couldn't find anything. It was like anything connected, even vaguely, to Heyman was hidden behind a glossy little shield.
'Gimme a bit, I'll let you know, kay?' Scott continues glaring at the back of Heyman's head, his hand still resting on the seat between them.
'Okay.' Phil moves his fingers so they rest by Scott's, the tips brushing very slightly, and he tries to keep the happy little feeling he has to himself, but really he thinks this friendship thing should be shared.
They arrive at some anonymous warehouse, the front of the building painted an uninspired grey colour. The car stops, and Heyman gets out, opens the car door, and looks at Phil expectantly.
"This way, gentlemen." He places a hand at the small of Phil's back and starts walking. Beside him, Phil can feel Scott bristling, annoyance bleeding over their link.
'It'll be fine...' Phil tries to soothe him, sending something relaxing over the link, feeling Scott calm down a little.
'He needs to get his hands off you, now.' Scott all but hisses over the link, his eyes narrowed, fists clenching. Phil glances over at him, and sends more of that soothing calm feeling to him.
"You'll have to excuse me gentlemen, I've something I need to attend to. Please, wait in here." Heyman excuses himself, and Phil stares at the little room Heyman has lead them to. It's filled with teenagers, all milling about, all nervously fidgeting, and staring around with wide-eyed wonder. Scott bumps his shoulder, looking at him pointedly.
'You see the girl in the pink dress? She's from my school... I didn't even know there was anyone else with powers there.' Phil feels like he should probably tell Scott that whispering over the link isn't going to stop Heyman from eavesdropping if he wants to, he could shout and it wouldn't make any difference really.
'Is her brain wired like a normal person's then?' It's a question that interests Phil. If all talents bar himself are wired like normal people, then that merely makes him more exceptional, if not then finding other people with talents becomes that much easier, though he's not sure what benefit there would be in being able to find other talents, other than starting his own evil army.
'I've never looked... Huh. It is wired different... But it's like the guy in the flannel shirt's... Hey, you think different talents are wired the same?' Scott actually sounds excited by this idea, as though he's come across some incredible discovery. If Phil's honest, that would make sense. Each different talent should be produced by the same set of wiring, like electrodes on a circuit board, if you connect different ones you get different effects, but those effects are reproducible on every circuit board you have.
'Probably... Would make sense, right?' Phil fidgets, the thoughts of talents might be quieter than those of normal people but they still blare loudly enough. There'a one strange thing though, he can't hear any thoughts from outside the room, and that is just odd. 'There anyone like me?' Phil asks, wandering up to a wall and patting over it, eyebrows knit in confusion. It feels like a normal prefab wall, just normal and thin by the way it sounds when he knocks on it. So why is it an impenetrable fortress for thoughts, it makes no sense.
'There's no one like you, you wall molesting punk.' Colt laughs and leans against the wall, glancing over at Phil. "What are you doing?" He nudges Phil with his foot, a smile on his face.
'I can't hear anything outside this room. It's weird... The wall seems normal though, maybe there's something else.' Phil gives up his examination of the wall and looks round the room. 'There's no other telepaths here?' There's nothing that looks especially like it would be shielding the room, but it might be some crazy technology in the paint that's blocking his talent, he's heard of paint that can stop wifi so maybe there's telepathy blocking paint too.
'Nope, not a one.' Scott frowns, his eyes half-closed as he regards the other teenagers. 'There's a few other duplicates in here though. Maybe telepathy's rare?'
'Maybe... I dunno.' Phil sighs and kicks the wall. The girl from Scott's school comes over, a smile on her face.
"Scott! I didn't know you were one of us!" Her voice is obnoxiously loud, like the near neon of her dress.
"Well, you know, it's not something that you go shouting from the rooftops is it?" Scott laughs, and rubs the back of his neck. 'Can you find out what she can do?' Scott glances over at Phil, something hopeful in his eyes.
"I'm Amy." She holds her hand out in front of Phil. "I go to Scott's school... It's nice to meet you..." Phil takes her hand and shakes it absently.
"Phil." The girl is practically throwing her thoughts at him, all of them focussed on what the hell a nice guy like Scott is doing with some scruffy punk kid from the other side of town. She might not be impressed with Phil's appearance but that doesn't stop her from imagining some incredibly explicit things about the two of them together. Phil can feel a blush forming on his cheeks at the sheer depravity in this girl's mind. 'I don't wanna go poking about in there... This girl has issues.' Phil sends of the link, and gets a burst of amusement in return. The girl smiles at them brightly.
"So... I move things. What'd you do?" Her smile widening to a grin, her eyes still flitting between them both.
"I read minds." Phil says dryly, and she stares at him, horror on her face.
"Really?" She squeaks, panic flooding her mind. Phil's at least grateful she's feeling guilty for imaging him in comprising positions before learning his name.
'Really.' Her eyes widen even further when he talks to her in her mind, a blush colouring her cheeks.
"Well... Uh... Ha... I'll, uh... I'll be leaving now." She rubs the back of her neck and wanders off to the other side of the room, as far away from Phil as she can get, but shooting him odd glances every once in a while.
'What was that all about?' Scott looks at him, confusion flooding the link.
'Tell you later. So we know that Amy there and flannel shirt guy are telekinetics... Wanna try and get everyone else to tell us what they do?' Phil turns to Scott with a grin. It's not particularly difficult to get the information out of the other talents, in fact, it's depressingly easy. Between his scruffy, bad boy looks and Scott's more clean-cut wholesome ones, the females are easy enough to charm into giving them their talents. The boys, well if Scott can't talk sports with them, then Phil has a wealth of completely useless knowledge about most any topic on hand to draw on. It's surprisingly fun, subtly manipulating the entire room into giving them what they want, fun and easy, almost scarily easy, he and Scott are a good team.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Paul Heyman, and like all of you, I have a talent." Heyman smiles at the group, his eyes lingering on Phil though. "Some of you have a very important gift, one the people I work for covets, but make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen... Each of you is wanted, each of you is valuable, and each of you is special."
'We're all equal, just some more equal than others, right Heyman?' Phil scowls at him, feeling that knot of irritation from Scott return, and Heyman's unwavering gaze on him.
'We're the most equal of them all, Philip.' Heyman's mental voice makes the hairs on Phil's arms stand on end, and he turns from the slimy man, ignoring his speech on-going as it is, Heyman begins to lead the group down a corridor and stops at a door.
'Well, what do you think is behind door number one, Phil?' Scott's chuckles, his hand brushing Phil's, trying to catch his eye.
'I got no idea... The walls in this place, they must block thoughts or something...' Phil frowns, the same bland paint is on the walls, the same uniforms on all the men they've passed, there's something very odd going on here.
"This, ladies and gentlemen, is one of our many training rooms. As you can see, young talents, like yourselves, learn how to better control their gifts." Inside the room is a small collection of talents lighting candles with their fire-based gift. The few talents in the group with this power gather round and look incredibly impressed. "Control is key for all of us with gifts. Wayward flames can cause so much trouble." Heyman smiles at the pyrokenetics and keeps walking, still spouting what sound like overly rehearsed lines from a script, his eyes trained on Phil every time he to turns speak to the group
'There's something off about all of this.' Scott sounds deeply suspicious, his eyes narrowed as he stares at the back of Heyman's head. 'I don't trust this guy... Don't like the way he looks as us... At you.' The group starts walking again, past more training rooms filled with students and teachers all working dilligently.
'Well, that makes two of us...' Phil shrugs, he still can't hear any voices outside of their group, it's like they're the only people in the building. The guards they've walked past so far have been odd, their minds empty almost. 'Scott, the guards...'
'They're not normal. It's like someone's programmed them... Like robots to carry out certain tasks, none of their neurons are working right. You think it was Heyman?' He sounds mildly disgusted, still glaring at Heyman's head.
'Yup... No doubt about it, if you ask me.' Phil tries to focus on what Heyman's saying but the words are so insincere, so obviously lies that it seems pointless to pay attention. There's undoubtedly something going on here that he's not telling them, something he doesn't want them finding out about.
'Help me.' Phil freezes in the middle of the corridor, Scott glancing back at him nervously. The first voice that's not from the group comes to Phil at that moment, a tiny, timid little whisper of a voice.
'Keep going, I... Just keep an eye on Heyman...' Scott stares at him, eyebrows knit, lips set in a frown. Phil sends something reassuring through their link and smiles slightly. 'Please?' He hopes that Scott will relent, he needs to investigate the voice that came to him, it was so soft, plaintive and young. Phil wants to help them, if only because they asked do pitifully.
'Help me.' It comes again, a tiny quiet little voice, the voice of a child, but the location is a mystery. There's so little thought in the building, that the source of this voice should be easy enough to find, yet he can't pinpoint it at all.
'Phil... I... Be careful.' Scott looks pained, his face twisted in some miserable expression, but he does turn away and keep walking with the group.
'I will, I promise.' Phil sighs, and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the torrent of concern from Scott. The guard following the group nudges Phil's shoulder, trying to make him move.
"Keep moving." He snaps, and Phil glares up at him. His thoughts are dull, programmed like the other guards. It's easy enough to slip inside his mind and tweak Heyman's programming, make the guard not notice him slipping away from the group.
'Where are you?' He asks the child, wandering down the corridors, opening doors at random, trying to find where the child might be held.
'I don't know... It's dark and there's no one here... I need to find my brothers... I need my brothers, they'll be worried!' The little kid sounds scared, terrified, still mumbling about his brothers. Phil wanders down a corridor and comes to a door, a tiny little barred window in it.
'Kid?' He asks the still babbling child, trying to send soothing thoughts to him, trying to keep him from crying even more over the link. The tiny window shows a dark room, shadows everywhere. Phil tries to find a mind inside but can't hear anything, just a strange buzz, like the minds of the sparrows in the park, some animal might be in the dark room, a guard dog possibly. He flicks the light switch by the door, glances in the room again, and his mind is assaulted with something dark and heavy. It claws at him, this something twisted and desperate, dark and so very scared batters him with an attack far worse that the one Heyman launched on him in the school. It knocks him for a loop, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin, and the need to vomit almost overwhelming him. He flicks the switch off, panting with his back pressed against the door, his mind still being assaulted.
'You're not the one.' Another child's voice, a voice laden with horrifying levels of pain. 'You're not the one!' The child in the cell, because Phil has no doubt that's where this attack is coming from, repeats it like a mantra. 'You're not the one!'
'Stop... Please stop.' Phil groans, as he slides down the door, his head pounding. The flood of horrors stop, and the vicious pain recedes, leaving his mind feeling delicate, but the chanting keeps going. 'Are you okay?' He wants the child to stop chanting, wants the mantra to be stopped so he can try and soothe his mind a little.
"I'm... Good." The child says softly, he sounds so very young, so very calm, despite the frantic madness he'd unleashed on Phil in that attack. The thousands of horrible thoughts and tar black images that had assaulted him lingering in his mind.
"Do... Do you have a brother?" He asks, forcing himself to his feet glimpsing in the window, seeing a small shadow shuffling around in there.
"I have two brothers." The little child says softly. "But they're keeping us split up... Think we're trouble." He laughs softly. This child is damaged, horribly, brutally damaged, his mind back to the animal instinct buzzing though, which Phil is grateful for.
'Hey... I found one of your brothers.' Phil sends to the first child, a spike of incredible happiness flooding him, replacing the horrible images from the kid in the cell's attack.
'Can I... Can you let me talk to him?' The first child's voice is timid, hopeful. Phil frowns slightly, and regards the kid in the cell, he's never tried being a relay between two people before, but he has an idea of how it would work, though he doesn't relish the idea of having a link to the mess of the kid in the dark cell's mind.
"Kid, I need you to let me in." Phil taps the side of his head, hoping the kid in the dark can see him.
"You'll get hurt." The kid snaps, still shuffling in the darkness, his tone dismissive and cold.
"Your brother wants to talk to you." Phil tries, hoping that the promise of letting him have something he wants will cancel out the hostility this child clearly feels towards him. There's a tiny little letting up in the static buzz of the child's thoughts and Phil tags him quickly, in and out, no poking around. Just the tiny glimpse granted by the assault was enough to convince him that there's nothing good in that child's mind.
'Hey kid, you can talk to your brother now.' He can feel the connection he tried to build between the two boys working, can feel them talking, but can't hear them. It's a strange sensation that he puts out of his mind, taking a deep breath, focussing on trying to get his mind in order again. "Do you know where your other brother is?" He asks the kid in the dark.
"The other side of the building... I... Thank you." The child sounds sincere, genuinely grateful, as though having the voice of his brother has soothed the raging madness inside of him. His thoughts are still animalistic buzzing but Phil's glad for that.
"Kay... I'll go look." He leaves through a different door to the one he came in from, wondering where the other side of the building could be. Heyman's drone guards aren't particularly helpful, their thoughts all focussed on guarding the kid in the dark. He keeps wandering along, ever grateful of the invisible man trick, until the thoughts of the guards change, the subject of them some other child. He follows the thoughts to a large bank of observation windows, the room they show is starkly white, a medical table in the centre of it. Some guards lead a little boy in, maybe all of eleven, tan skin and long tangled black hair, snarling and pulling at the chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles. 'Do you have brothers?' Phil stares at the child as he stops trashing and is chained to the medical table.
'Two.' The boy says softly, his eyes locked on Phil. 'I got two brothers.' The guards start raising the table, and what looks like a doctor shuffles in to the room, wheeling a tray of syringes in with him.
'Here.' The link is set up quickly and more happiness floods the little tangle in the back of his mind, along with an influx of relieved gratitude that washes over him. Then the first needle is inserted into the strapped down kid, and he lets out a horrific scream, his pain seeping through the relay to Phil. He stares in shock as the doctor keeps going, ignoring the little boy's screams, just keeps inserting more needles and strange liquids into him. Torture, experimentation, that's what this place is about. Anger fills his core, this is what Heyman's game is, this is his training. 'I... I promise you kids, I'll help you.' Phil can tell this is a promise he's going to keep. Even if he dies trying, he's going to get these terrified kids out of here, is going to stop whatever the hell is going on here, no one else is going to suffer at Heyman's hands, not if he can help it.
'Phil! You elusive punk, where the fuck are you? Heyman is freaking out.' Scott's panicking, his voice franticly concerned.
'I'm coming... Scott, did you work out Heyman's shields?' There's no chance that he'll even get out of here, and be able to help these kids if Heyman knows what he's seen. He needs those shields desperately.
'Yeah...' Scott sounds slightly smug. 'I can switch the right bit of your brain on if you want. I think you'll be able to figure out how to keep them in place... Phil, you okay?' More concern from Scott but Phil can't say he's really surprised, he's so very used to Scott's concern by now.
'Do it!' The feeling of Scott playing with his brain is very different to the feeling of him turning down Phil's gift at night. His head is filled with a curious liquid fire, but he can definitely feel where he needs to focus to have shields in place. He doesn't think they'll be as strong or perfect as Heyman's but he's hopeful they'll hold. 'Take me to Heyman.' He snags the nearest drone guard and is lead back to the group; thankfully, it seems they were relatively close.
"Mr Brooks." Heyman's hand falls heavily on his shoulder. "I thought we'd lost you." Heyman squeezes Phil's shoulder, and narrows his eyes at him.
"Piss." Phil shrugs, and falls back in step with Scott, snagging his hand, squeezing it tight, refusing to let it go even when the rest of the group looks at them oddly. Right then in that moment, Phil needs Scott, needs a connection to him. Scott stares at him, worry and concern pouring over the link, and Scott squeezes Phil's hand back just as hard, a hint of relief comes over the link.
'Where the fuck were you? I've been wor-'
'I'll tell you later, but we were right...' Phil sighs, and more concern floods over the link with Scott.
'Nothing good?' He asks, his thumb rubbing soft little circles over Phil's knuckles.
'Nothing at all.'
Many thanks to the lovely Ladies and Gentlemen who reviewed:
AshJohvillette: Thank you! I'm super grateful for your review! :3
Rebellecherry: Honestly I think they both need a hug to be honest! More on their relationship in a bit, we actually moved the plot forward with this one.
Brokenspell77: Ha, I won't lie, I'm pleased to have gotten you in the feel! :3 The first little bit of Developmental was what you just read I guess...
alizabethianrose: You are behind! You terrible woman you! It's okay, I'm happy you're enjoying this little ride so far. :)
littleone1389: They are bonding, slowly but surely getting closer and closer. :3 Developmental the first, we just had... I don't know if it's put your nerves to rest though...
shiki94: *^-^* Thank you! I've been panicking about trying to make Punk somewhat himself whilst being very much not in Punk's normal situation! So your words are more than appreciated! :) Not so smoothly at all really!
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