Warnings: Mild Slash (Colt/Punk, Hacksaw/Piper), AU setting, Profanity, Smut.
'I need to go for a bit.' Phil nuzzles against Scott, dragging him from his panic over being unable to think of a good codename, and pulls away.
'Go? Go where?' Scott moves out of the booth, letting Phil out, to straighten his coat as they leave the diner, ending up standing by Scott's car, the invisible man trick keeping people from noticing them. It's strangely automatic to Phil now to create a little bubble around himself and Scott, so that no normal people even notice they're there.
"I need to think... Just for a bit, I need some space." Phil glances away, and hopes he's not giving himself away too badly. He does need to go, but it's not to think, it's not for space, it's for more recon, it's stupid and he thinks he's going to regret it, but he needs to talk to Heyman again. The warehouse isn't too far, more than within walking distance. He won't be long, talk, get some information, and then he'll be more settled that attacking Heyman is the right choice. It's possibly too late to be harbouring doubts, but if he has more information, he can kick those doubts out of his mind and focus on the task at hand. Freeing those kids is a priority; at least he thinks it is, both Heyman and Piper have stressed how dangerous, and how important they are. If he thinks about it too much, there's a chance Phil might just change his mind on the whole thing, and have to explain to Scott, and now Amy too, that maybe leaving these kids locked up is the best thing for them. He needs both sides of the story, he needs to know what exactly both Heyman and Piper intend to do with these kids. Piper, he's talking to tomorrow, and he thinks that he'll get some answers there, the old man seems invested enough in Phil to want to give him some. The real question with Piper is what the motivation behind him is, but then again that's a big question with Heyman too.
"You'll be home though? This isn't going to be a repeat of last week, right? Cause if it is Punkers, I'm not letting you go." Scott's voice jars him from his circular thoughts, and Phil blinks at him, over their link comes something determined and fierce. Scott truly means what he says, if Phil intends to go away for the week, Scott won't let him. It almost makes Phil want to laugh, last week had been just as miserable, and just as stressful for him. He meant it when he said nothing would keep him from Scott for long, not even himself.
"I'll be home, relax." He winds his arms around Scott's neck and kisses him lazily, his resolve to follow through on his stupidity wavering the more Scott kisses him. 'How many times do I gotta tell you I won't be gone long? I'll always come home to you.' Scott breaks the kiss, his hands framing Phil's face.
"I know... I just..." He sighs, and pecks the tip of Phil's nose. "I worry about you." 'Worry how many times you're gonna get hurt before I can't put you back together, how long it's gonna take for you to get tired of me wanting to put you back together.' Phil stares at Scott, utterly unsure what to say to that, their fears mirror each other, they're both kind of ridiculous really.
"Colt..." Phil pulls him close, wrapping him up as tight as he can. He's not sure what he's doing, but it seems to be helping, over the link the painful, brutal uncertainty fades. Scott's far too good at hiding his less cheerful emotions from him, it seems he has the same worries and concerns as Phil; it's just that he conceals them better. 'I worry about that shit too...' Phil laughs softly, and kisses Scott's hair. 'I worry you're gonna get sick of me.' Scott laughs at him, and pulls back, stroking Phil's hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ears.
'Ridiculous little punk.' He smiles, and then glances round the street. 'How come no one's looking at us weird?' He seems very confused, and stands in front of a bustling young man in a suit, who just steps around Scott without seeing him. "You're playing with the whole street? Jesus, Punkers... You're incredible you know that right?" Phil glances away and shrugs, he's pretty sure this is nothing, Heyman had pulled the same thing off with no problem. It'd taken Phil a lot of practice, and effort to manage this.
"It's nothing... I'm sure you'd be able to do something like it no problem." Phil grins, and Scott frowns, as though he's not sure if he could or not. He steps away from Phil, and suddenly the people around them all raise their right hands. "Ha! See! Look at that." Scott looks slightly impressed, and everyone around them is utterly bewildered by their inability to put their hands down. 'We're impressive bastards, you and me.' Phil wraps his arms about Scott's waist, and kisses the side of his head.
"I didn't know I could do that..." All the hands fall down, and Scott's own hands rest over Phil's, stroking his knuckles. "So you'll be home later?" Over the link is a hint of worry, and Phil kisses Scott's hair once more.
"Yup, wait up for me, or leave the window open... I don't think I'll be long." Phil steps away, letting Scott get in the car. 'I'll be home, don't worry.' He smiles, and watches Scott leave, the link is filled with concern, and the soft syrupy feeling, its familiar and Phil's grateful for it. If nothing else, it's nice to feel something warm and beautiful before he goes and does something that is probably incredibly stupid.
"Mr Brooks... What an unexpected surprise." Heyman's eyebrows are chasing his receded hairline they're so far raised. He looks utterly flustered and completely unprepared for Phil to turn up at his door. "So... Philip, to what do I owe this pleasure." It should be impressive how quickly Heyman manages to force himself back into control, how fast he's once more slimily focused. His shields are smooth and unbroken, but Phil'd been expecting that, he'd expected Heyman to be flustered for only the briefest of moments.
"I... I wanna talk, Mr Heyman. I know there's only a week left." Phil glances up at Heyman from under his lashes. It's a ridiculous, but he knows for some reason people are more charmed by him when acts coy. "But... There's a lot I don't know... I mean..." He flicks the ring in his bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, and hears a vague, mildly disturbing thought from Heyman.
"Well... I'm sure I can answer your questions, Philip." Heyman's arm wraps around Phil's shoulders, and he pulls him into the warehouse. The illusion is up, but Phil can hear a tiny buzzing, the mind of the kid with the ruined arm, buzzing like a fridge.
"Where is everyone?" There's no drone guards, the mind of Heyman's hulking biopath is conspicuous by its absence. It sounds like there's only Heyman, the three kids, now that he's inside the building it's easier to find them, their little minds fixated on getting out or just buzzing, and Phil. Heyman glances back at him, and smiles.
"The night off, I'm not a slave driver, Philip. People need down time." He leads Phil up to the little office and through a door to what appears to be a small studio apartment, a sofa, a TV and a kitchenette, with another door, Phil guesses goes to a bathroom. "Take a seat." Phil perches on the edge of the sofa, and considers his options. Heyman's stray thoughts are disturbing, but Phil's heard a lot worse from far more pleasant sources, Amy has some very non-PG thoughts of him. He can use Heyman's thought to his advantage, but it's a stupid plan, if he's honest, Phil's not entirely sure how to go about seducing someone. He's been trying and failing miserably with Scott, and he knows Scott wants him, somewhat at least, he's only partially guessing with Heyman.
"So... Mr Heyman... This is all very... Impressive." Phil leans back against the cushions on the sofa, his legs spread just a little more than usual, his eyes half-lidded as he stares at Heyman, his hands nervously laced on his stomach. "This whole facility... You must be a powerful man." Heyman swallows and smiles at Phil, taking a seat on the sofa.
"Oh, I am." His fingers twitch, and Phil forces what he thinks is a cute smile to his face, the one he's heard Amy cooing over, watching Heyman, and trying to super-impose Scott's face over his.
"I'm sure... You seem very in control." He's laying it on a little thick, and Phil feels ridiculous as he licks his lips, wondering if he should have perhaps tried to do that less nervously and more sexily. Heyman's eyes flicker to Phil's mouth, then down along his body, back to his face, a lazy smirk slowly stretching his lips.
"This is all very cute, Philip. A little taste of my own medicine?" Heyman chuckles and the flirtatious smirk falls from Phil's lips, his eyes narrowing. "But, really... You're a child, and it shows." Heyman laughs, and gets off the sofa, leaving Phil sitting there feeling foolishly young. It doesn't take Heyman long to come back, and he tosses a can of pop to Punk. "In a few years..." Heyman laughs, and fans his face as he sits back down. "In a few years if you try that shit, you'll be limping." He laughs again, and Phil blushes, the stray snippet from Heyman's mind shows that it won't be violence causing that limp.
"Look..." Phil starts and stalls, utterly uncertain where he's going with that, Heyman raises an eyebrow, and sips at the glass of wine he'd brought for himself.
"In a few years, I can only hope you've learned to plan what you're going to say. Planning is very important in this life, Philip... Planning, and sticking to that plan." Heyman sets the glass down. "You came here without a plan, but with a goal. Am I right?"
"I... Yeah, you're right." Phil sighs, and opens the can, finishing it in one go, feeling his cheeks burn, feeling like an idiot. Planning is what he should be doing; coming here had been a stupid idea, stupid and overly ambitious. He crushes the can, resisting the urge to play with its crumpled form by tossing it in the trash.
"So what was the goal?" Heyman asks mildly, shifting on the sofa, making himself more comfortable.
"I want some answers." Phil lets his head flop back, and stares at the dull white ceiling. "But the more I think on it, the more I've no idea what the questions are." He sighs, not looking away, uninterested in anything but the greying ceiling tiles. This whole endeavour was so painfully stupid, he should have waited for tomorrow, he should have waited for Piper to explain his story.
"Hmm... Well, it's certainly difficult to answer questions without having them." Heyman sounds distant, an odd note to his voice, and Phil can feel him poking at his shield, can feel Heyman trying to find a crack in his shoddy mental defences.
"I'm sure that's rude." Phil glances at him out the corner of his eye, and Heyman looks at him, an odd mixture, of shock, horror and a dash of awe. 'What?' Phil turns his head to look at the man fully, watching every emotion being quickly wiped away in favour of Heyman's normal calm.
"I forget how quickly some people's talents can grow." Heyman smiles, and Phil frowns, tentatively prodding at Heyman's shields, feeling them as smooth and cool as ever.
"Can you feel that?" Phil asks him, Heyman frowns slightly, and Phil pokes at the shield around Heyman's mind once more. "That." Heyman shakes his head, and shrugs.
"I told you, Philip, you're strong, but utterly untrained... Like a diamond in the rough." He finishes his glass of wine and catches Phil's hands. "You want to know what I really want from you, right?" His thumbs move over the back of Phil's knuckles, and he wants to throw them off, but he wants the information Heyman can impart, the two desires warring. "What I want, Philip, is a protégée... What the people I work for want, I don't know... But what I want is something, someone to train as my own." He smiles absently, and lets Phil's hands go. "I want the best, and you my dear, are by and far the best I've come across." Phil blinks at him, watches a kindly smile spread over his face. "I have, perhaps, gone about this the wrong way. I certainly haven't endeared myself to you, but I want nothing more than for us to work together... I want you by my side."
"I... Uh... Why?" The idea is almost tempting, it's almost intriguing. Heyman's powerful, he'd be a good teacher, even Piper acknowledged him as such. The buzzing from elsewhere in the warehouse increases, the buzzing from that child in the cell gets louder, more insistent, and Phil rubs his forehead absently. It had always been there, but now it's like the fridge is full of angry bees.
"Why?" Heyman's pudgy, damp hand rests on Phil's forehead. "Because talent isn't something to waste." 'It's a tool to be used as I see fit.' He wasn't meant to hear that, Phil knows he wasn't, the darker tone Heyman thought it in, the almost sneer of his mental voice, confirms it wasn't for Phil's ears. 'Poor pretty little thing... Focus, Paul! Play at Charon just a little longer. The old man won't be around forever... Even if you don't want to give this one up, you have to.' Phil stares at him, more words not for him, more words he's not sure he can trust, but more words he thinks are more honest than anything else about Heyman. Phil leans away from Heyman, the man's hand hovering for a few seconds before he puts it down.
"No... I guess not." Phil mumbles, folding his arms, coming to the realisation that there's no point in being here, there's nothing to be gained from this, going to Heyman had been a fool's quest. He'd get more answers from asking questions of himself.
'He's a liar!' Phil tries very hard to keep from showing the surprise he feels. He knows that voice, knows that scratchy, monotone voice far too well. 'He wants to use you for something... The same something he wants to use us for... My brother, he sees the future, all the futures, and that bloated pig carcass in a suit wants something from us!' Phil's headache is growing more painful the longer the kid keeps talking, it's growing more and more difficult to focus on what Heyman's saying, his words garbled and strange. Phil can only hope whatever it is Heyman's talking about isn't important. 'My brother, he's seen a future for you, a great, a beautiful future of you with us... A future you've gotta make happen.'
"Philip?" Heyman's face is entirely too close, his hand on Phil forehead once more. "You're hot... Lie down." Heyman guides him to his side, and Phil's certain he's going to pass out or throw up. The kid in the cell is doing something to him, something bad. He doesn't care what Piper said, there's no way that the only talent this kid has is just not being able to feel pain.
'You're like a light...' The kid's voice finally has some emotion in it, something bitterly fond, and Phil feels even worse. 'A light shining in the darkness... One day.' He laughs softly, and Phil groans pitifully, his head filled with jagged edges and oppressive pain. 'You gotta help us... Lemme show you something.'
'I... Please-' Before Phil can finish the please don't, his mind is filled with blinding pain, there's very little he can do to fight the blackness that consumes him.
'What the fucking hell are you doing? Get your ass back here! I can feel the fucking mess you're in! Get. Here. Now!' Scott's voice over the link is like pouring molten metal in his ear, it fills Phil's head with agonising pain. He lies very still and tries very hard to not pass out again. Scott sounded furious, but overwhelmingly worried, like his worry will outweigh his anger in the long run.
"Philip?" Heyman's face appears in Phil's line of sight, the man looks worried, sounds it too, and Phil groans, closing his eyes. "What happened there?" He presses a cool cloth to Phil's forehead, and frowns. "There's nothing here that could attack you... Well apart from me, and-"
"I know. You didn't do that, I know." Phil pushes Heyman's hand away and sits up, almost instantly regretting it. The link to Scott is still bristling with contradictory emotions, and Phil just wants to go home, he wants to be curled up safe with Scott, far away from this godforsaken warehouse.
'I'm sorry.' The scratchy monotone of the kid with the ruined arm is desperately unwelcome, and Phil wants to know how he can keep invading his mind like this. If he's supposed to be like a mirror, why isn't he when it comes to Phil. 'I hurt you again...' The kid sounds frantic, his voice on the edge of panic.
'It's okay... It'll be okay... Just don't do that again, please?' Its instinct more than anything that has Phil trying to soothe the kid, he's not sure if it's a good or bad idea, but keeping the kid calm has to be a good thing.
'I keep hurting you... You... I don't want to hurt you.' The kid says softly, like it's some kind of odd revelation, and Phil closes his eyes.
"I need to get going." Phil stands, feeling shaky and weak, but needing to be away from the warehouse. Heyman looks at him doubtfully, and sighs.
"I can give you a ride. You don't seem in any shape for walking home." He moves to grab his jacket, and Phil rests his hand on the man's arm.
"It's okay... I could do with some air." He leaves the little room, and considers the kids, considers if what he's planning is a good thing. One of them, the dark awfully minded kid, he's dangerous, horribly dangerous, but it might just be that he's untrained, it might be that he needs help. He's not going to get it from Heyman; here he's going to get nothing but torture and pain he can't feel, so maybe Piper is the best bet for him.
'Are you leaving?' The kid sounds panicky again, and Phil sighs, longing to be away from his buzzing, static mind and the pain of hearing that monotone voice. 'You... Don't leave me, us here... We need you... I'm sorry I hurt you, but I wanted, needed to show you what he's done to me, to all of us. That's what I did...' It's hard to decide if the kid is taking advantage of Phil, if he's playing on the fact that Phil won't do anything to hurt a kid or not. There's no way the kid knows that for sure, but his brother can map the future, everything that's happened, it's more than likely something the little sequencer has seen and planned for, in the end, all Phil really is, is a pawn in the game of child, a game with an ending he doesn't know.
'Don't do it again.' He mutters, he know he sounds short, but his head is filled with something toxic, something like burning, corroding acid churning through his mind.
'I'll be careful with you... I promise.' The kid says softly, and Phil shudders, he doesn't like the tone that's creeping into the kid's voice, doesn't like the way it makes the bile in his mind boil. 'I won't put you out.' Phil forces his feet to move, forces himself to leave the deserted warehouse, feeling sick, feeling worse than he's ever felt before, feeling his brain almost sloshing in his skull.
The air outside of the warehouse, filled with car fumes though it is, is the sweetest most glorious thing Phil's ever smelt. He still feels like his brain's been blitzed, but at least he doesn't feel quite like he's going to collapse at any moment. The major problem he's facing is how to get home. There's no way he's asking for Heyman's help, the man is nothing good, he might have been playing concerned, but Phil's decided, is firm in his decision. Heyman is bad news, he might not be all-bad, but life isn't a Western. There may not be definitive black hats and white hats, but Heyman's a very dark shade of grey, and Phil doesn't trust him. Scott would come and get him, he's no doubt of that, but Scott would also ask why Phil was at the warehouse in the first place, would fret and worry more than he already is, and he'd have to explain where he was going to his mother, which might be a problem. That leaves Phil with two options, one a cab, or two Piper. A cab would require money, or Phil being able to manipulate the driver into forgetting to charge him, and really, he doesn't think he's up to that.
'Piper?' He's pretty sure that was the most pathetic pitiful whimper he's ever made, and Phil walks away from the warehouse, slumping down against a wall closer to the main street. 'Piper!' He sounds a little more firm, and he can feel a tentative prod at his fragile mind.
'Fuck me kid! What the fuck did you do to yourself? Where are you? More importantly, where the fuck is the knight? Why the hell did he let you get in this state? Jesus, don't tell me you're having another fucking spat? Is that why you wanted to cancel? For fuck sake kid, you need him! Stop being a brat and let him look after you!' Piper's voice is a strange mix of exasperated, amused, and anxiousness.
'I'm here.' Phil sends an image of the street sign he's slumped by, and closes his eyes. It's more than likely incredibly stupid to be alone on a dark street in a less than savoury part of town, slumped on the sidewalk, but he doesn't think he could take another step. 'We're not fighting... Not yet. Be quick, please?'
"Hey kid..." Phil's roused from what was a very ill advised nap by a very haggard and tired looking Piper. He sighs, and Phil tries to force himself to his feet, he mostly fails, and Piper steps to the side letting his biopath scoop Phil up. "Hack... do something, seriously, the kid's a fucking mess." Piper's rubbing his temples, and Phil wonders if the mess in his head had affected Heyman in the same way it seems to be bothering Piper.
"Humph..." Hack snorts, and shakes his head, carefully setting Phil in the back seat of Piper's beat-up car. "I'm not touching him. I'd do more harm than good. We'll get him to his anchor. It's the best thing for him."
"Oh no, no passing out for you, kid." Piper sits beside Phil, and pulls him over to rest his head on his shoulder. "What the fuck are you doing out here?"
"Heyman's warehouse..." Phil mutters, feeling Piper's fingers slowly start stroking his hair. "That kid... The numbery one."
"The Eleven A?" Piper sounds distracted, his eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror regularly. "What about him?"
"What do you know about them?" The streetlights are painful to watch going past, and Phil closes his eyes, sorely tempted to drift into a half-sleep.
"Not much, no one really does. Why? There's no way that kid did this to you, it's... I don't think I've ever seen anything like this Phil, its bad." Piper's fingers still, cradling Phil's head and gently scratching at his scalp. 'No, I don't know what the fuck it is, and yes of course I'm fucking worried, we need him!' Phil almost turns to look at Piper, but the comment was clearly directed at Hacksaw.
'Pipes, he's a kid... You ever think that maybe this is all a bit much for a kid? There's only so-'
'Of course it's too much, but you want them to get the jump on us again?' It seems with worry, and anxiety Piper's shield, his control, has slipped. What should be a private conversation is loud and clear to Phil.
'No...' He's not sure who they are, but based on the bitterness dripping from Hacksaw's voice, Phil assumes it's an enemy of theirs, someone who got the upper hand before. Heyman and Lesnar almost undoubtedly.
'Well then... He's the only card we've got left up our sleeves.' Phil supposes he's the he, and he's not sure he likes the idea of being nothing more than a card in someone else's hand.
'It'll hurt him... It could fucking kill him.' Hacksaw sounds worried in a way Phil is beginning to think is peculiar to biopaths, utter horror at the thought of something terrible happening to a telepath. It seems as though they're all horribly protective, even of each other's telepath.
'It won't.' Piper's fingers are still gently running through Phil's hair, his tone absent-minded but determined, it's not much of a vote of confidence, but it's better than nothing.
'You better hope it doesn't, or if it does, you better hope it takes out the knight too.' Certainly better than Hack's resigned mutter.
'I thought you said-'
'Yeah, well I was wrong, okay. Your little fucking princess over there lets his knight hide just how fucking good he is. It's a fucking unholy alliance you orchestrated, you asshole.' Phil almost smirks, almost gives himself away, he's stupidly proud of how well he's shielded Scott. However, he resents being referred to as a princess; he's not some helpless damsel.
'I did nothing... It was all them... Fate, I guess.' Fate, the idea is ridiculous, and given the tone of Piper's voice he thinks so too, but has no better explanation.
'The sequencer?' It's an interesting point, but Phil would like to think he'd have found Scott without interference, he's pretty sure he doesn't much like the idea of someone lining up the dominos of his life, and flicking them over when they see fit.
'Nah, if things had been going to plan, they'd have never been caught.' This conversation kind of makes Phil wish he'd tried to get in touch with the sequencer. The kid might have told him what his plan was, because there is a plan, one that he features in, if what the kid from the cell said was true.
'Plans change. I can't believe we're going through all this shit for some shitty fucking vision.' Phil tenses slightly, and Piper's hand moves from his hair, to rest on his shoulder. Piper and Hack are working on nothing more than a vision. Phil's more than certain what Heyman said about them is true, a vision of the future has to be so easily lost based on people's action. It sounds like madness to place your faith in one.
"Shh, kid. You're okay, we'll get you back to your knight, don't worry." 'It's our job, Hack...' Piper sounds utterly unimpressed with that fact, his thumbs rubbing little circles on Phil's shoulder.
'Its bullshit and these kids deserve better. Your princess deserves to make his own fucking decision, not getting jerked around like this.' Hacksaw sounds righteously angry on Phil's behalf, and whilst he doesn't much like being called a princess, he does appreciate the indignation.
'You think he's not making his own fucking stupid choices? Jesus, he wasn't supposed to leave the knight's side! We weren't supposed to be picking him up off the side of the fucking road.' That strikes Phil as an interesting piece of information, somewhere there's clearly a list of what he's supposed to be doing, and it seems he's deviating from it. The idea makes him feel strangely pleased with himself.
'Might be that the old bastard's wrong... Or you're not as good as you used to be Pipes.' Hacksaw laughs, and Piper's fingers dig into Phil's shoulder a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to make Phil more aware of them.
'Fuck you... He's-'
'Strong? Yeah... They both are, and every one of those assholes at HQ are underestimating the pair of them.' Hacksaw sounds curiously proud, and Phil thinks he can feel more of the pride from Piper. It's strange, but knowing that makes Phil feel kind of proud of himself.
'I'm not... I know whatever the hell it is he's up to, my princess'll be fine.' Piper presses a very soft kiss to Phil's hair, so soft it's almost not there; his hand tightens on Phil's shoulder. 'When this fucking fiasco is over, I'm training him. Both of them, we'll take them back, fuck HQ.' "We're here... You gonna be okay to get in?" Piper shakes Phil gently. Phil blinks up at him, feigning having just woken up.
"I'm good. Thank you." Phil gets out of the car and shuffles the last block to Scott's house, his brain feels brutalised, between the assault of the kid, and now the conversation he's certain was meant to be private between Piper and Hack, which confirmed if nothing else that Piper is looking out for him. The people he's working for, are almost undoubtedly not, but Piper himself, and by extension Hacksaw, are trustworthy.
"Where the fuck were you?" Scott's scowling as Phil clambers in the window. His eyes narrowed, and Phil shakes his head, kicking his shoes off, and curling up on the bed by Scott. 'What was it?' Scott's fingers start running through his hair, and Phil closes his eyes. His head feels torn apart, there's a horrible little bundle of something pitch black and toxic in the corner of his mind, and he doesn't want to touch it. "Fuck... Punkers, you're a mess."
"I know... Fix me?" He sounds weak, tiny and broken, and Scott rolls him to lie on his back. The link, which had been bristling with fury, is flooded with overwhelmingly comforting concern and love. He can't keep questioning that in the face of the horrors he felt from the kid in the cell, the emotions that bleed from Scott are so the very opposite that they have to be love. A single finger traces over his forehead, and the edge of the pulsating, almost living mass of pain in Phil's head eases.
"Where were you? You were gone... I couldn't feel you, couldn't get you to respond... It was like screaming into the abyss." Scott's finger trails over his eyebrows, soothing more of the pain. The anger of earlier seems to have melted into nothing, dissolved in the heat of Scott's concern.
"I was staring into it, and it stared straight back..." Phil murmurs, his eyes drifting closed, feeling a very soft kiss against his temple. The warmth of emotion from the link fighting the bitter bundle of horrors in Phil's brain.
"You did something stupid didn't you?" Scott says quietly, moving to lay down with Phil, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around him tightly. "You went to see Heyman, right? This is kind of like when he attacked you, but worse. I told you, you'd get hurt..." 'I hate seeing you hurt, Punkers... It's my job to keep you safe.'
"Sorry." Whilst Phil can feel the pain in his head easing, the horrific gift from the kid is still there, still lurking like a tiger in the forest.
"It's okay... I think, as much as I hate it, I might have to get used to it." Scott sighs, and shifts so their faces are level. "You seem to insist on doing the sort of shit most other people would be too smart to try." He kisses Phil's forehead, and smiles. 'Better?' Phil grins at him. It is better, there seems to be some kind of barrier around the toxic gift of the kid, something that stops it from causing Phil pain. It's always a shock how easily Scott can soothe his broken head, how easy it is for him to make Phil feel better.
"Much... Colt?" Phil's hands frame Scott's face, his thumbs stroking his skin. "Thank you." Scott tries to shrug, their link tinged with embarrassment. "Don't even think about being modest, you fixed me up, good as, better than new." Phil wants the kiss he gives Scott to something of a repayment, he wants it to be something that says without words how he thinks he feels, that soft, warm emotion he feels from Scott, Phil's sure he returns it, and he wants this kiss to express that. 'You're right though... I'm too stupid to be afraid.' He smiles, and something in Scott flares with protectiveness, the link bursting with the need to keep Phil safe. It's sweet, it's glorious, it's something Phil knows is going to drive Scott insane. Phil's smart in a lot of ways, but he's resigned himself to being very stupid in a very fundamental one. He's not smart when it comes to danger, and based on everything he's learned today, danger is exactly where he's heading.
Many thanks to the lovely Ladies and Gentlemen who reviewed:
AshJovillette, shiki94, littleone1389, Brokenspell77, and Rebellecherry .
Not too much in the way of planning by the would-be heroes, but everyone else's plans... Lots of those! :)
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
I'm back at work, and I'm not sure when I'll be able to get updates out, but for very obvious reasons that amuse me, I'll aim for Thursdays. (I give it to you free of charge, on Thursdays, and I'm able to do that with the help of my sponsors... Tea and nicotine.)