Warnings: Mild Slash (Colt/Punk), AU setting, Profanity.
"Okay, so what's the plan?" Phil turns to look at Scott a frown on his face. He'd been expecting the question, but the truth is he's no idea what the plan is. He should have thought of one, but he hasn't and he laughs awkwardly. "Phil, please tell me you have a plan." Scott stops at a red light and glances at him. "Fuck."
"Yeah... I got nothing." He laughs again, rubbing the back of his neck, looking out the window at the quiet street. They need to see what's in that warehouse, and they need to see it without Heyman knowing. The best way to do that would be when Heyman was somewhere else, but the chances of that happening are slim to none really.
"You have no plan... Why the fuck are we doing this?" Over their link comes a torrent of frustration and Phil laughs again.
"You know... You don't have to come, you can go back home, forget about this whole thing." Phil mutters, not looking, instead trying to think of something to get Heyman out of the way so he can see what's in the warehouse, and trying to work out the tangle of emotions coming from Scott. There are times he wishes he was an empath rather than a telepath, his life would be so much easier. Scott's power forces him to turn his head back to face him, something darkly furious in Scott's eyes.
"You are not going there alone." He flicks Phil on the forehead, his expression softening. "Get that through your thick skull, you stubborn little punk." A soft smile spreads over his face, his hand cupping the back of Phil's head pulling him closer, resting their foreheads together. "I'm not leaving you." The sudden bite of desire, the sudden craving for Scott to kiss him again, has Phil pulling away sharply, nodding slightly.
"Okay, I get it." He mutters, irritated that his voice sounds hoarse for no reason. "So, have you any ideas?" He changes the subject, hoping that whatever the emotion bleeding over from Scott is, it'll stop soon, because it's distracting, overwhelming really. Scott clears his throat, focussing on the road once more, as the light turns green.
"Hmm, a few but none that are any good. We need to think of something though, we can't go in unprepared." He sounds distracted, his thoughts humming in that soft, sweet, little melodic tone.
"Unprepared... That's exactly what we need Heyman to be... But not us." 'Why can my stupid brain can never think of something useful!' Phil scowls out the window, watching Scott's reflection, watching a smile spread across his lips, and getting distracted by them. He knows how those lips feel, knows how it feels to be kissed by them, is beginning to wonder how they'd feel moving down his neck, kissing over his shoulders.
"Phil!" Scott interrupts his incredibly unhelpful train of thought, as he parks the car, the expression on his face suggesting he's been trying to get his attention for a while.
"We're here?" This doesn't look like the place they were this morning, it's quite a distance away in fact. The grim little church Phil spent time is nearby, it's lights still on, hopefully waiting for a repentant soul late in the night.
"No, but it's as close as we're getting without some kind of something in place." Scott sighs, his eyes closed, head tilted back. It's painfully easy to imagine leaning over and kissing him in this moment, painfully easy to imagine kissing down his bared throat. Phil gets out of the car, slamming the door, and storming over to the church, escaping before he puts his thoughts into action. 'Phil?' Concern floods their link, desperate, fearful concern.
'Stay there... I'm gonna go think.' Phil snaps over the link, throwing as much of his cobbled together shields up as he can, hoping none of his stupid crush feelings have been spilling over to Scott.
He flops down on a chair at the back of the church and scrubs at his face. He can hear Scott's mind buzzing away, can feel that concern over the link, bright and potent. He needs to focus, needs to plan.
"Well, at least you learned to shield yourself a little." A man takes the chair beside him, and Phil turns to stare at him.
"Excuse me?" He moves his chair away, not entirely comfortable with this scruffy man being so close. A quick flick over his mind shows the same cool glassy shields as Heyman. Another telepath.
"This morning you were practically screaming every little thought in that hyperactive little mind of yours." The man laughs, crossing his legs at the ankle.
"I don't-"
"Relax, kid." The man laughs, an easy smile on his face. 'I'm not with Heyman, you're safe enough.' The man folds his arms over his chest, his head dropping slightly. 'I've been keeping an eye on you for a while... You seem like a good kid, bit of a cocky little shit, but a good kid at heart.'
'Okay, who the hell are you?' Phil fidgets, turning to face the man properly, a frown on his face. His link to Scott is quiet, the buzz utterly normal and uninteresting. He almost wants to say something though, to tell Scott what's happening but it seems foolishly needy.
'I'm a friend.' The man glances over at Phil, his eyes narrowed slightly and he laughs, an odd snort of amusement. "You're a suspicious little punk aren't you?" He laughs again, a genial smile settling on his face. 'It's a good thing, kiddo.'
"Look, old man, I don't know who you are, or what you want but-"
"Kid, what you're planning on doing is dumb, incredibly fucking dumb. You know it, I know it, your anchor out there in the car knows it." The man smiles again. 'Well done there, by the way. Good choice, well not choice but you know... Well done for finding him so quick, took me years, way too many years.' The man rubs his temples absently, as though out of habit more than anything else.
'What?' Phil frowns, unsure who the hell this guy is, and what the hell he wants. Phil's beginning to get very sick of other telepaths, it's possibly a good thing there aren't many of them, because it seems to be their fate to grow up into confusing assholes.
'Oh don't what me, kid. Your biopath, your anchor, your knight in shining armour.' The man laughs, and the image of Scott dressed up in full medieval battle armour is projected to him. He can't stop the burble of laughter that escapes him. 'Hmm, I knew I was funny.' The old man laughs, a smugly satisfied expression on his face. 'So you wanna tell me what you're doing here, kid?'
'You know what I'm doing here.' Phil snaps, his eyes narrowed, watching the old man carefully.
'Oh, I know what you're doing here, I just wanna know if you do.' He laughs, that odd snort again. 'Look, Heyman's a smart guy, but what he's got locked up in there, those kids... He's smart but there's not much smarts can do against inevitability.'
'There are kids?' Everything else the old man says is almost lost at the relief and horror that there are kids in that warehouse.
'Yup, three of them... We've been following Heyman's little travelling circus since he picked them up from under our noses.' The man sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and frowning slightly. 'They're dangerous, not something we really want Heyman's employers getting their hands on.'
'Our noses?' By the sounds of things, this old man is from some kind of rival organisation, one that's probably just as dubious as Heyman's.
'Look, I can't tell you kid... Sworn to-'
'Bullshit. How the hell do I know I can trust you anymore than I can trust Heyman?' Phil stands, fully intent on leaving, when the old man's hand wraps round his wrist, tugging him back down into his chair.
'You don't, you can't. Stay suspicious, kid, it's a good trait. I can show a little trick though, a goodwill gesture, if you will.' The old man smiles slightly, his hand tightening round Phil's wrist. 'You wanna see what's in that warehouse, right?' Phil nods, glaring at the hand round his wrist, wanting to pry from him, and snap it off. He doesn't want someone else's hands on him, at least not hands that aren't Scott's.
'Oh Jesus, I'd forgotten how preoccupied teenagers are... Focus kid!' The man snaps, and Phil blinks at him. 'I'm sure that if I could check your little white knight would be very flattered and just as keen, but now's not the time.'
'Wait... What d'you mean if you could check?' Phil frowns, desperately trying to will his embarrassment away.
'Kid, you got his mind locked up so tight ain't nobody getting to peek in there. It's cute, but really you should be focusing on doing that for yourself.' The old man laughs again, and Phil's certain that the blush he can feel on his cheeks must be pretty impressive looking. 'This isn't what I wanted to be talking about.' The old man sighs, and rubs his temples again. 'You ever looked through someone else's eyes?' Phil shakes his head, still trying to ignore the heat on his cheeks. 'It's a simple enough trick.' The man offers some information, and it seems like an easy enough thing to do, kind of projecting his mind into someone else's, piggybacking on them, seeing what they see, a far safer way to check out what's in that warehouse than going there. 'Use his biopath, not the drones, kay?'
'But won't he be all locked down like Scott?' Phil can't help from asking the question and the old man looks at him, a soft smile on his face.
'Not everyone falls in love, kid... Not everyone wants to protect what's so vital to them so very carefully.' His expression is utterly unexpected, a smile rather like the one Scott wears when he looks at Phil sometimes, like the soft, gentle smile that sits on Scott's lips when he wakes Phil up in the morning, slowly, carefully letting the rest of the World trickle back into Phil's mind. 'Heyman's been through a few different biopaths... He's not as careful or as possessive as you are, kid.' He can't keep the little smile from forming on his lips, he supposes he is a little possessive of Scott, maybe just a little. 'Look, kid...' The old man stands, a frown settling on his face. 'If you need help, you just shout... Like I said, I've been keeping an eye on you, and I'm a friend. You... You're gonna do something impressive.' The old man ruffles Phil's hair, an oddly proud expression on his face, and he shuffles out of the church. Without really thinking about it, Phil follows him, watching and he strides over to Scott's car and opens the passenger door, an old man with the too long hair gets out, and wraps an arm around the telepath's shoulders, pressing a kiss to his head. Phil's certain that's the old man form the street that morning, before Heyman picked them up.
'This morning...' Phil stares at them, and the old man laughs, turning to Phil with a grin.
'Like I said, I've been keeping an eye on you... And you all but shout your thoughts, noisy little punk that you are.' The old men start wandering down the street, in the opposite direction from Heyman's warehouse. 'Piper, if you need some help, kid, that's what to shout.'
"Phil!" Scott gets out of the car, and starts across the street, wrapping him up in a hug, holding him close and tight. "I'm sure I told you to not be gone again." His voice is dripping with worry and concern. 'Seriously, stop doing that, it's fucking terrifying.' His arms squeeze Phil tightly, and he closes his eyes, lets the feeling of Scott holding him overwhelm everything else.
'Sorry... I didn't mean to, just... No, nevermind, I'm sorry, and I'll try not to do it again.' Phil pulls away and crosses the street, getting in the car, and sighing, watching as Scott stands on the other side of the road for a few seconds, his face turned to the sky. "So did you get a weird visit from an old man too?" Phil asks once Scott's sat back down, his wrists draped over the wheel.
"Yup." He says shortly, not looking at Phil.
"He give you a really weird pep talk?" Phil frowns, something odd stirring in his chest, as Scott continues to ignore him.
"Yup." He doesn't elaborate, just sits there in silence, not looking at Phil, the link nothing more than a quiet little buzzing sound in the back of Phil's mind.
"Take us a little closer, I wanna try something out." Phil says softly, turning from Scott, ignoring the little sting of pain. Piper's very wrong when he all but accused Phil of falling in love with Scott, it's nothing but a crush, a damned annoying crush and the sooner it goes away the better.
"A block away do or you want closer?" Scott says after the car stops again. Phil closes his eyes, and lets his mind wander, finding Lesnar is easy enough, his neatly organised mind easy to locate in amongst the emptiness of the drones.
"Here's good... I might... I might be gone for a bit... I don't know... I've never done this before." There's very little Phil would like more than for Scott to look at him, for him to meet his eyes, to at least stop staring out of the front of the car.
"I... Okay." Scott should not sound like this, he should not sound do horribly closed and distant. Phil sighs, and closes his eyes, letting himself relax, his body going limp as his mind wanders to Lesnar's.
Being inside someone else is very odd; their perception is skewed and different to his own. Lesnar appears to be sat in a room filled with nothing but a small, overly cluttered desk and a bank of monitors.
"Well... I'm sure I can persuade him." Heyman's pacing the room, a cell phone to his ear and a frown on his face. "These things take time. With all due respect, I can't just bang him over the head and kidnap him, sir." Heyman snags a cup from the desk and downs the contents quickly, his pacing oddly soothing; Lesnar's mind lulled into a sense of all encompassing boredom by it. "Well you know how these things go... Well, no not personally I know, sir but... Yes, sir. Of course, as soon as I can, sir." Heyman tosses the cell to the table and sits on the chair behind the desk. His face twisted in an ugly expression. "Brock, go do something, you're making me nervous." He waves the biopath away, and Lesnar leaves the room. The entire warehouse easily visible as the room he and Heyman were in on a higher level. The view is nothing like what they were shown around though. Phil, in his surprise, has to try very hard to not make his presence known to Lesnar. There's several little cubes, maybe a dozen of them scattered throughout the large space, and some larger, longer cube rooms like that one with the kid strapped to the table in it, Phil supposes. Lesnar walks down the stairs, past one of the smaller cubes. Something collides with the door, making the little cubic cell quiver.
"You're gonna die, gonna die horribly." Phil knows that voice, the kid in the dark cell, his voice oddly monotonous. "He's gonna come for you, and it's gonna be glorious." Lesnar kicks the cell wall, and the kid laughs. "Your blood's gonna flow like piss from a drunk." The kid laughs again; Lesnar gives the cell another kick and keeps walking. His mind buzzing with thoughts about what a freak the kid is, and hoping that one day Heyman will manage to kill the psychotic little shit. He comes to one of the larger cubes and glances in the window. Another little child, skinny, with oddly two-coloured hair, half of it blond, half of it black, is strapped to the table this time, his eyes wide and focussed on the tray of syringes.
"Where's the shifter?" Lesnar asks the same doctor who'd been injecting the other boy who'd been strapped to the table when Phil had wander through the warehouse.
"Back in its cage, I'd recommend letting it alone." The doctor turns to the kid, and picks up the first of the needles. Lesnar turns from the window, a shudder running through him as the kid starts screaming. He walks further through the warehouse, to a little cube on the opposite end, and wraps on the wall.
"Wakey-wakey, kitty-cat, time to play." Light floods the little cell, and the boy with the long black hair picks himself up, his eyes narrowed, long deep scratches on his arms and legs.
"One day soon you're gonna die." The boy snarls, his teeth bared, as he drops into a defensive stance.
"So I'm told." Lesnar laughs and opens the cell's door.
Phil breaks the connection, blinking rapidly, staring up at into Scott's impossibly worried eyes, his fingers running through Phil's hair gently.
"Shh, I got you." He murmurs, holding Phil against his chest. They seem to be in the backseat, and Phil has no idea how they managed to get there, but that's where they are. Scott's arms wrapped around him, cradling him as though he was the most fragile, delicate thing on the planet.
"I'm okay." Phil's voice is rough, croakingly soft, but Scott's hand doesn't stop moving through his hair, he doesn't stop holding Phil like he was invaluably precious.
"I know, I know..." Scott still doesn't let him go, and Phil can't really say he minds, settling against Scott a little, maybe even very slightly snuggling into his chest. "You get what you need?" He asks, his fingers running through Phil's hair are unreasonably pleasant, unfathomably soothing, the second nicest thing he's ever felt, right behind being kissed by Scott.
"Mmhmm." There's a strange, mellow feeling settling over him, something warm and syrupy filling him with lazy contentment.
"So your kids are real?" Scott asks, and Phil pulls away from him, a mildly sick feeling settling in his stomach. The kids, those three kids need him, and he's lying in the back seat like some cat.
"Home, back to your place. I'll show you there." Phil clambers into the passenger's seat, and trying very hard to shake off the comfortable ennui he'd just pulled himself from.
There's a light on in Scott's home when they pull up, his mother's mind awake and buzzing with worry.
"Shit." Scott mutters, parking the car, and the front door opening, his mother storming out. 'What we gonna do?' He gets out of the car, looking panicked. Phil shrugs, and convinces Scott's mother that he's not there, wandering past her to stand at the front door.
"Where the hell were you? Its three a.m. Scott Colton! I've been worried sick!" The woman snatches him by the ear, dragging him into the house.
"Mom!" Scott wails, and Phil tries very hard to not laugh at him. 'Help me!'
'Tell her you were out or something... I don't know make something up.' Phil grins at him, leaning against a wall, watching the woman scolding her son.
"Mom... I'm sorry, I was... Out?" Scott sounds incredibly apologetic if nothing else, and Phil has to bite his fist to keep from laughing.
"Out? Out where? With who? Some girl?" Scott's mom's tone changes, her mind picturing some generically pretty girl hanging off her son's arm, the two of them sitting under the moon, holding hands and talking for hours.
"Uh... Yeah! That's where I was, mom." Scott rubs the back of his neck, glaring at Phil over his mother's shoulder. 'I hate you.' Phil shrugs, and grins back at him.
"Is she pretty?" The woman asks, bustling past Scott, going to the kitchen. Her mind focussed on the cup of warm milk she has there. Scott follows along behind her, Phil trailing behind them for no reason he can really justify to himself.
"Beautiful." Scott mutters, leaning against a counter, mild discomfort filtering over the link.
"What's she look like?" His mother pushes, sipping at her mug, her eyes narrowed. Scott seems to be staring at Phil, his eyes flitting over him.
"She's thin... Has the prettiest green eyes... Bit of a punk, but beautiful, mom, real beautiful." He rubs the back of his neck and Phil turns away, he can feel a blush on his cheeks, and he leaves the kitchen, heading for Scott's room. Scott's mother has summoned up a very inaccurate picture he thinks, and he can't quite resist tweaking it to look the way those people at the park had pictured him as a girl. It's oddly a relief when she seems content enough with the image. He pulls on a random pair of pyjamas, and gets into bed, lying on his stomach, his arm outstretched behind him, waiting for Scott to show up.
'I hate you... And now my mom is expecting me to bring some girl back... You're a hell of a lot of trouble.' Scott gets changed quickly, flicks off the light, flops on the bed.
'I don't mind convincing her I'm a girl... I've done it before.' Scott doesn't need to know that the first time he tried out this trick was today.
'Really? You a pretty girl?' Scott laughs, as he takes Phil's hand, and pulls him closer, tugging him to rest half on top of him.
'What d'you think?' Phil sends the image people had chosen in the park to Scott, and he laughs softly, that warm syrup feeling from laying the car creeping over him again.
'The real thing's better.' He laughs again, and Phil shifts, moving so he's leaning over Scott, staring down at him. His heart is pounding, which is utterly ridiculous because all he's doing is lying in bed with Scott. He's done this several times before, but not since they kissed, not since he'd felt Scott's lips on his. His tongue flicks over his lips, and he takes a deep breath, before leaning down for a kiss. Scott turns his face at the last second, Phil's lips brushing his cheek. Phil pulls away from him, clambering off the bed, berating himself, cursing his stupidity, as he pulls his clothes on over the pyjamas. 'Phil.' Scott sighs, and sits up.
'No! Don't Phil me. Its fine. It's perfectly fine.' Phil can feel himself shaking; can feel abject humiliation filling him. Just because Scott's gay, doesn't mean he's interested in Phil, just because he kissed him once, doesn't mean he wants to kiss him again. 'I get it, I'm not your type, you're not interested, it's fine, I understand.' Phil tries to leave but his feet won't cooperate, they're rooted to the spot. Scott gets off the bed, and pulls the both the shirts Phil's wearing off over his head.
'You have no fucking idea, Philip, no fucking clue. You utterly clueless little punk.' He steps closer, his hands running over Phil's chest, smoothing down his arms, settling on his waist. "Absolutely no idea."Scott's lips are so incredibly close, and Phil's certain that if Scott wasn't using his power to keep him still he'd have kissed him, previous rejection be damned.
'Let me go, Scott.' Phil's remarkable proud of how strong his mental voice is, how together it sounds, because he feels anything but together, he feels like he's been shredded inside. At least this stupid crush has been shot down quickly, painfully but struggling under delusion would be so much more painful in the long run.
'Let you go how, Phil?' Scott's hands move round to his back, cupping his ass, squeezing him ever so slightly.
"Scott." It's a quiet little whisper of his name, and a shudder seems to pass through Scott's body. "Let me leave. I... You..." Phil's words fade into a tiny soft moan as Scott's lips press against his shoulder, his hands running up his back. 'You don't want this. Let me go and I'll be gone, we can forget this whole kissing thing... There's bigger things for us to worry about than my stupid little crush.' Sometimes Phil wishes he had a better handle on his brain, wishes he didn't just spew the first thing that occurred to him out there for Scott to hear, because it is a rather Scott specific problem.
'Crush?' Scott stops kissing his shoulders, and meets Phil's eyes. "Clueless." He laughs softly, one hand cupping Phil's cheek, his thumb stroking the skin under his eye. The wonderfully perfect warm feeling bleeds over the link and Scott smiles at him. 'You think I didn't kiss you because I don't like you like that?' He laughs softly, and presses a very soft kiss to Phil's forehead. 'Clueless little punk.'
'Colton, seriously, let me go.' Phil feels painfully exposed like this, shirtless, unable to move, he's not entirely certain he likes feeling this vulnerable.
'Didn't you listen to a word I said?' Scott steps away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed, something almost hungry in his eyes, that same almost hunger bleeding over the link, and Phil desperately wishes he could move. Whether he wants to move to sate that hunger or leave, he's not sure though.
'When?' He wants to at least fidget, to at least not feel so trapped, but honestly, being trapped by Scott isn't that bad.
'My first boyfriend.' Scott says quietly, and the hold his power has on Phil fades instantly, but he can't bring himself to move, can't bring himself to do anything. He'd forgotten about the boy whose life Scott had ruined.
'I... I'm sorry.' Phil kneels down in front of him, taking Scott's hands in his own.
'You didn't do anything, Phil.' Scott glances down at him, his eyes quickly darting away. 'Put a shirt on.' He flops back on the bed, and Phil frowns, moves to sit Indian style on the floor, his back against the bed.
'If I don't?' He can't quite resist the urge to tease, can't quite rein back the urge to push Scott a little.
'I'll grope you some more.' The response from Scott makes a smirk spread over Phil's lips.
'Will you kiss me again?' Phil tries to sound coy, but really, he thinks it probably just sounded stupid. Scott laughs quietly.
"C'mere." The sound of Scott patting the bed bedside him, is almost a relief to Phil, and he clambers up the bed, wriggling out the jeans he'd pulled on over the pyjama pants. 'You've absolutely no idea, do you?' Scott asks softly, trailing one finger down Phil's chest, dipping briefly into his belly button, then back up, circling one of his nipples, before smoothing down the shoulder farthest from Scott.
'No idea about what?' Phil stares at him, shivering slightly as each trailing caress leaves a wake of goose bumps behind it. He raises a hand to rest on Scott's cheek, feeling incredibly, stupidly nervous, losing a fight with a smile as Scott kisses his palm.
'Nothing, much better for everyone if you live in ignorance.' Scott leans over him, his hand moving down Phil's side, dipping briefly under the pyjamas and his underwear to stroke his hip, then withdrawing to stroke over the same place with the fabric separating their skin. 'You're already enough of a punk, don't need you knowing you're beautiful too.' Scott closes the gap between their lips, and kisses him again. Phil's hand cards through Scott's hair, his body arching into the teasingly soft caresses and subtle squeezes its receiving from Scott. The first touch of Scott's tongue to his lips almost freaks him out. His mind almost rebelling at the thought of what was about to happen, but his body overruled his brain for a change, his lips part, and the first taste of Scott is good, but the slide of another tongue in his mouth is slick and strange. He's not actually fully certain he enjoys it, until Scott's pulling away from him, panting and swearing softly.
"Why'd y-"
"We need to stop, Phil, before it goes too far. That's far enough." Scott scrubs at his eyes, licking his lips. 'Seriously, put a shirt on.' Phil chuckles at Scott. grabs a random shirt from the floor, and pulls it over his head. He can taste Scott still, can feel the ghosts of his touch on his skin. He thinks he can get used to the strangeness of having another person's tongue in his mouth, so long as that tongue is Scott's.
'There, that better?' Phil flops back against the bed, and grins at nothing in particular.
'No, it's terrible, but necessary. C'mere.' Scott pulls him close, wraps his arms around Phil, cradles him against his chest, and presses a kiss to his hair, slowly turning down the sound of the rest of the World.
'Don't you wanna know what I found out bout the warehouse?' Phil almost wants to punch himself in the face. That had been almost the perfect moment of post make-out session cuddling and he goes and mentions Heyman and the associated mess.
'Nope, tell me in a few hours.' Another kiss is pressed to his hair, and Phil nods vaguely, lying still for a few moments.
'Scott?' A spike of mild irritation comes over the link and Phil presses a soft kiss to Scott's chest in apology.
'What, Phil?' The arms around Phil tighten slightly, over the link the irritation is drowned out by exhaustion.
'Was I a better kisser this time?' It's a stupid question to be hung up on, but really Phil's feeling particularly stupid, giddy almost, this is almost exactly what he wanted, this is so much more than just mere friendship, and he wants more of it. Scott laughs over the link, and Phil almost wants to get out of bed, almost wants to run, because really it's not nice to laugh at people's insecurities like that.
'Much better.' He yawns, and tilts Phil's face up to him. "No more talking." He kisses Phil lips, soft and chaste, almost making Phil wish his tongue had gotten involved again. He's not going to get used to that if he doesn't experience it more often. 'Go to sleep, Phil... Or I'll make you.' Another yawn and Phil settles himself back down, Scott's heartbeat beneath his ear.
'You couldn't.' Phil mutters, his eyes closing, his mind drifting.
'Try me.' Scott mutters, his hand running lazily through Phil's hair.
'You know, you're the only person to kiss me.' Sleep overcomes Phil shortly after thinking that, and as he'd slipped into dreams, it had been to an influx of that soft, warm syrupy feeling.
Many thanks to the lovely Ladies and Gentlemen who reviewed:
Rebellecherry: Yup, first kiss, all awkward and sweet... :3
AshJohvillette: A little cameo from the hounds. :)
shiki94: I love that! It's always better to be a goonie! :3 That's an awesome phrase and now I REALLY wanna watch the Goonies...
littleone1389: More kisses, but no progress on rescuing the Pups of Justice...
Brokenspell77: Sweet, beautiful and a little tragic really... but yup, pretty much to drive the whole they need each other point home. ;)
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