"I mean it, Mitchell. Every time Fizbo comes out, Phil disappears." Cam ignores Mitchell's snide wish I could disappear and continues. "It's obvious he hates Fizbo. Which means he hates a part of me."
"Why is it so important to you that everybody like Fizbo?" Mitchell wants to know. "Some people just don't like clowns. I don't really like clowns, Cam."
"But there's a lot of stuff you don't like. When was the last time Phil hated something? Or someone?"
"Well, there's that other real estate guy he can't stand..."
"I met him. That guy is the worst. But we're talking about Fizbo here, who has never harmed anyone."
"I've seen some of your routines, Cam."
Cam waves a hand, dismissing the ridiculous statement outright. "Those are different. Fizbo is a kind, gentle soul. And anyway, Phil's practically a giant kid himself most of the time, and kids love Fizbo."
Mitchell's expression makes it plain he doesn't agree.
"Mitchell. Remember when you first introduced me to the family, and you thought Phil didn't like that you were gay?" Mitchell nods in agreement, but warily, as if there's a trap in there somewhere but he doesn't know where. "And it bothered you because it was the only time you'd ever seen him so bothered by anything?"
"Well, we both know I was wrong about him hating me, just like we know that there are, in fact, things that actually do bother Phil-and anyway, this isn't the same thing at all."
"I'm going to talk to him. Claire said he'd be home today. That he's supposed to be fixing the trim in the kitchen."
"You're going to corner that man while he's home alone and make him explain why he doesn't like Fizbo? That seems like a terrible idea."
"You're right," Cam says. The sudden shock on Mitchell's face is its own reward. "Fizbo is going over there. Phil can tell him to his face why he hates him so much."
"Still a terrible idea."
Mitchell's meeting Claire for lunch, though, so at least he has an excuse not to get involved in Cameron's nonsense.
It's a new place, one they've both been wanting to try, and lives up to their every expectation. Claire fills Mitchell in on what the kids are up to, what Phil's been up to this week, and what her plans are for the following week. Mitchell shares what's new with Lilly and asks for some advice about teething because she has, after all, done this three times before.
He doesn't always follow her advice-sometimes it's more of a what-not-to-do sort of conversation, but if nothing else it's a reminder that he and Cam don't have to do all this on their own.
"So, funny story," Mitchell says as they pay, "Cam thinks Phil hates clowns."
"Uh, yeah, he does," Claire confirms. "Won't go near them. Found that one out the hard way."
"He thinks that includes Fizbo."
"It does."
Mitchell feels the humor quickly fading from their conversation. Claire is saying all this with a perfectly straight face.
"Huh. Well, um, you might get a laugh out of this? But Cam decided he was going to go confront Phil. As Fizbo."
"Bad idea-" Claire sees something in his expression, and her eyes widen. "Now? He's going over there now?"
"He was getting ready as I left?"
"We have to go. Now."
Normally Cam would knock before entering the Dunphy house, but the current situation is far from normal. First and foremost: Phil is alone, and if Phil realizes there's a clown at his door he's just not going to answer.
Cameron reviews what he knows. The kids are all out: Haley's at the mall, Alex is at the library, Luke's at soccer practice. Claire is at lunch with Mitchell. Phil Dunphy is alone, working in the kitchen, completely at Fizbo's mercy.
Cameron ignores the fact that that last bit sounds a little sinister, even in the privacy of his own head. The point is that if he wants Phil to give Fizbo a chance, he's going to have to make it so that Phil has no other choice but to do so.
The front door is unlocked, so Cameron slips inside as quietly as a man possibly can while wearing over-sized shoes. He eases it closed behind him and freezes as the sound of Phil's voice reaches him.
"Monday at two. Sure thing. And listen, I know you're frustrated right now-and why wouldn't you be-but the second you see this house it's going to be worth it. I promise you are going to love it. Absolutely. Bye."
A second later he hears the sound of what he assumes is a cellphone being placed on a hard surface-the counter, maybe. Then footsteps. After a few more seconds the refrigerator opens.
Cameron has Phil right where he wants him. He tiptoes through the living room, pauses before entering the dining room to make sure Phil is still focused on the fridge, and slips through the room into the kitchen without making a sound.
Phil turns around to find Fizbo the Clown right behind him, screams and throws the carton of orange juice in his hand, then nearly knocks the door fridge door off its hinges in his haste to escape.
He's out of the room before Cameron can even say anything. A second later the door to the downstairs bathroom slams. This is followed by the sound of the lock clicking.
"Phil!" Cameron calls. "Phil, we need to talk!"
While the bathroom door technically does lock, it very rarely latches properly, which means that all Cameron has to do to open the door is grab the handle, lift a little, and slide the door open with ease.
He takes a step inside to find Phil cowering between the sink and the toilet, head down, eyes closed, trying to hide.
"Phil, this is ridiculous." Cam says, realizing that he's going to have to be the reasonable one here. "This has gone far enough. I don't expect you to love me, Mitchell isn't crazy about clowns either, but this is who I am, Phil. If you can't accept Fizbo, then you don't accept me."
He takes a step closer, and Phil relinquishes his completely ineffective hiding place in favor of pressing himself into the far corner, one foot on the toilet seat, one hand gripping the windowsill as if the only thing keeping him from jumping out the window is the hard-won knowledge that the bathroom window doesn't actually open wide enough for him to fit through.
"This is really immature, Phil, even for you," Cam points out. "No, we're going to talk this out like two mature, rational adults, and pretending to hide isn't going to work."
He takes another step closer. If Phil can be stubborn about this, then so can he.
Phil's breath catches, his eyes roll up in his head, and he collapses. Cameron darts forward to catch him but doesn't get to him quickly enough to keep him from hitting his temple on the corner of the windowsill as he goes down.
"You don't think you might be overreacting just a little?" Mitchell asks as Claire blows through another stop sign. "I mean, I know Cam's overreacting. So what if Phil doesn't like clowns? It's not the end of the world."
Claire's shaking her head in a way that usually means someone has really screwed up. "Mitchell. It's not that Phil doesn't like clowns-"
"He really does hate them? I mean, that seems a little intense..."
"Mitchell, I love you, but shut up." Claire snaps. "Phil doesn't just hate clowns. He's afraid of them."
Mitchell actually laughs. "Of clowns?"
The first thing Cameron does is half-drag, half-carry his partner's brother-in-law (his brother-in-law? They've never really clarified the rules there) out of the bathroom and into the living room so he can wrestle the man's limp body onto the couch. From there he immediately heads into the kitchen to grab some paper towels and the first aid kit.
The wound isn't too deep in spite of the fact that there's more blood than Cameron anticipated. He presses a paper towel to the injury, ignoring the way a still unconscious Phil winces and tries to move away.
Cameron's sitting on the coffee table, still dabbing at the spot-the blood finally seems to be slowing-when Phil's eyes start to flicker. A second later they open, focus on Cameron, and then the man's entire body goes rigid.
He stops moving. Stops breathing. One hand has a death-grip on one of the cushions; he's holding it so tight his knuckles are turning white.
Wide eyes stare up at Cameron, and there is no recognition in them, only sheer, unadulterated terror. Phil is utterly terrified-of Fizbo.
He's also still not breathing.
"Phil, breathe," Cameron says, and the man obediently takes in the tiniest of breaths, his eyes still locked on Cameron's, his body pressed as far back into the couch as it possibly can. "Phil, it's Cameron."
Doesn't help. There is no room for any emotion other than fear in those wide brown eyes. Cam realizes there's a tiny trail of blood starting to trickle down the side of Phil's face and automatically moves to catch it with his paper towel.
Phil's eyes close again. He's still only managing thin, shallow breaths. His skin is starting to turn gray.
Cam sits back in an attempt to give the man some room. "Phil, I know you know it's me. Just try to calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."
Cam hears a door open somewhere past his line of sight. He hopes that means help is coming.
"Claire?" Phil's eyes open and flicker toward the front door for half a second before darting back to meet Cameron's gaze. His voice is borderline hysterical with an undertone of panic that Cam's never heard from the man before. He looks like he wants to make a break for the door but doesn't know how.
Cam stays where he is. This has been a terrible, terrible mistake, but he's pretty sure that moving-especially standing up, even if it is so he can give the man some space, is not a good idea. He only hopes that Claire doesn't decide to kill him for this.
"Phil?" Claire calls out, a second before entering the room. She stops dead in her tracks, eyebrows raised, her face morphing into an expressionless mask even as her eyes start to blaze. Cam can only hope that Phil catches her attention before he does.
"Honey?" it comes out as barely a whisper, and for a moment Cameron's afraid he's going to pass out again.
Claire crosses the room and steps confidently between husband and clown, grabs Cameron by his lapel, and drags him upright. "You," she hisses. "Makeup off. Costume off. Now. I don't care if you end up naked, it all comes off." She shoves Cameron away from the couch-and her husband.
Mitchell watches with a morbid fascination as his sister manhandles and all but threatens his boyfriend, only turning her attention to her husband once Cam has completely vacated the room.
"Phil, breathe. It's gone. The clown's gone."
"That's what it wants you to think," Phil's response comes out so low that Mitchell can barely hear him.
Mitchell can't really see Phil from where he's standing, especially since Phil is currently lying down. The back of the couch is blocking his view. That being said, he doesn't have to see the man. He can hear the terror and near hysteria in Phil's barely audible whisper.
"What happened to your head?" Claire asks, lowering her voice just a little and sitting down in Cam's abandoned seat at the edge of the coffee table. "Does it hurt?"
"I don't remember," Phil whispers back. "I think it was the clown."
"The clown is gone, Phil." Claire says, but without any of the usual exasperation Mitchell would have expected of the woman.
"It'll be back." Phil groans. Claire darts forward, her hand outstretched, and Mitchell thinks she's trying to push her husband back down on the couch. "They always come back-I'm being selfish. Get out while you still can."
"Breathe, Phil," Claire says in that no-nonsense tone of hers. "And let me look at that cut."
"Claire-"
"I promise the clown is gone. It is not coming back." Claire looks up at Mitchell and jerks her head toward the bathroom, where Cam is hopefully getting rid of any and all traces of Fizbo the Clown.
"On it." Mitchell mutters.
Mitchell leaves to deal with his partner. Claire turns back to her own. Moving slowly so as not to spook Phil any farther, she presses a fresh paper towel against his head to catch the trickle of blood. He winces as she dabs at the wound, but doesn't resist.
She turns to the first aid kit and grabs the hydrogen peroxide. She uses that to flush out the area, then grabs the antibiotic ointment. Phil doesn't move the entire time she's cleaning the injury, but at least he's breathing without her having to remind him.
She puts a band-aid over the cut and turns her attention to tidying up the first aid kit. By the time she's finished, Phil's released his hold on the cushion, but is still looking rather pale.
Might be the head wound. "You okay?"
"No," he says flatly. He's no longer whispering, but his voice is still abnormally soft, and now that Claire's no longer focused on the cut on his temple she can see the slight tremor running through his entire body.
"Can you sit up?" she asks.
"I don't know."
Claire helps maneuver him just far enough upright for her to slide onto the couch with him. He immediately responds by latching on to her shirt and burying his face in her chest.
"You want to talk about it?" she asks.
"A clown ambushed me in the kitchen and chased me into the bathroom," he mumbles into her shirt. "I don't know if it attacked or if I passed out, but when I woke up I was trapped on the couch with it looming menacingly over me. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't gotten home when you did?"
Claire holds her husband, strokes his hair, murmurs that everything's all right, that he's safe. He's crying by this time, she can tell by the way his shoulders suddenly start shaking, but doesn't make a sound-not a good sign.
Cameron's hat/wig is in a corner of the bathroom on top of a heap of clothes when Mitchell gets there. Cam is down to a white t-shirt and plaid pants, the paint half-scrubbed from his face, completely distraught.
Mitchell sighs. "You've got to let it go, Cam," he says. "People are allowed to not like clowns."
Cam turns on him. "Is that what you think is bothering me?" he demands. "I just traumatized your sister's husband, Mitch."
"I don't know about traumatized," Mitchell says, more to try to console his partner than because he truly believes Phil is going to get out of this without some kind of emotional scarring.
"He was afraid of me. No, not afraid. Terrified, Mitchell. Phil was terrified of Fizbo."
Mitchell doesn't know what to say in response, but the second "At least he doesn't hate you," comes out of his mouth he knows it's not the right thing to say.
"He might, after this." Cam sighs. "You were right. This was a bad idea."
Mitchell folds his arms over his chest and moves to lean against the door frame. "To be fair, if I had known it was this bad of an idea, I would never have let you do it."
Cameron finishes washing his face and looks down at his pants. "Should I take them off or leave them on?"
"Claire said all of it, so probably better take them off. You aren't actually naked under there, are you?
Cameron pauses in the space between the dining room and the living room, uncertain what to do next. He's feeling more than a little vulnerable in nothing but an undershirt and boxers, as well as unbelievably guilty for what he's put Phil through this afternoon, however unintentionally.
His clothes are in a garbage bag they stole from the kitchen, currently being hauled around the outside of the house so Mitchell can dump them in the trunk of Cameron's car and they don't have to risk Phil seeing them.
Phil is still on the couch, his head in Claire's lap, his arms around her waist. Claire is quiet, staring off into space, absently rubbing his back.
The fact that Phil has his knees pulled up almost to his chest and Claire hasn't said anything about the fact that his shoes are currently on the couch is a clear indicator of just how bad things are.
Claire looks up, sees Cameron standing in the doorway, and bends her head down to speak softly in her husband's ear.
Phil sits up slowly, and Cameron's heart drops into his stomach when he catches sight of the man's red-and still a bit watery-eyes. He's never seen Phil like this before, which is bad enough.
The fact that it's Cameron's fault makes it all so much worse.
"Hey, Cam." Phil's voice is markedly unsteady as he moves to sit next to his wife, leaning into her for comfort. It looks very much like Claire and the couch are the only reasons he's currently upright. He tries for a smile and fails completely.
"Hey, Phil." Cam's own voice is quiet. He debates entering the room, especially since Claire's face is somehow still carefully blank even while her eyes are throwing daggers at him. "Listen, I am so, so sorry."
Phil shivers, but nods. "It's fine," he says. His face still hasn't regained its normal color.
"It's not, though." Cameron insists. "I was so wrapped up in my own stupid pride, I couldn't just leave it alone. It bothered me, that every time I became Fiz-" the warning in Claire's eyes is nowhere near as effective as the way Phil automatically tries to retreat backwards into the couch, and he changes his what he was going to say. "I should have just left it alone."
"You could have asked, if it was bothering you," Claire suggests, not yet ready to forgive.
"I probably should have said something," Phil admits. "When your brother-in-law is a-lives a lifestyle that's incompatible with your own, trying to just ignore the situation probably isn't the best way to go about it."
Claire frowns a little bit at the man's wording, but Cameron likes to think he's known Phil long enough to know he doesn't mean anything by it. He's also admittedly been through hell today because of him, so Cameron figures he can ignore it.
He risks taking a step inside the room, and, when Phil doesn't react poorly, another. He's just about to take one more step closer when the front door closes a little more forcefully than necessary.
Phil pales and grabs a pillow as if it's going to protect him, pulling his feet back into the couch. Claire turns around in her seat to glare at her brother as he comes into view.
"Sorry," Mitchell says, wincing. Phil puts down the pillow and sags against the back of the couch. "We should probably be going," he adds. "I think we've done enough damage for one day."
Claire doesn't comment, but Phil recovers just enough to look distinctly uncomfortable. Cameron takes the hint, wondering if he's just completely ruined his relationship with Mitchell's sister and brother-in-law.
"Sorry," he says again.
Cameron still feels absolutely awful the next day, and has just managed to thoroughly convince himself that he might even have irreparably damaged Mitchell's relationship with Claire and Phil along with his own when the doorbell rings.
He opens the door to find Phil standing there, a cardboard box on the porch beside him, and completely blanks.
"Claire forgot to drop these off the other day," Phil says, as if trying to pretend yesterday never happened. When Cameron doesn't reply he looks down at the box and adds, "For Lilly? I think it's some old toys and books. There might be some clothes..."
"Oh. Of course, thank you." Cameron recovers enough to say. He wonders if he should grab the box, but doesn't want to make Phil uncomfortable. The man is already practically standing at the edge of the porch as if to keep as much space between the two of them as possible.
After a moment Phil grabs the box and settles it against his hip. "I got it." Cameron steps back so the other man can enter.
"You can set it down in the living room, thanks," he says quietly. Phil shoots him an odd look but obliges, setting the box down by the window and shoving his hands in his pockets as he straightens. He hesitates for a moment, then clears his throat.
"About yesterday..." he begins, and Cameron rushes to apologize again.
"I am so sorry, Phil. If I had known I would never have done something like that. Mitchell told me not to. I should have listened. Please don't let this come between my partner and you and Claire, it really isn't his fault."
Phil looks a bit thrown. He opens his mouth, then closes it again without managing anything. It takes a second try before he gets anything out.
"It's fine," he says, but something in his voice makes it clear that it is anything but. "I'm not mad. Claire is, but that's because sometimes it's easier for her to get mad than admit she's worried." He pulls his hands out of his pocket, takes a step toward the door, then stops. "I should have told you after the first time it happened that I was afraid of clowns," he says, though nothing about what happened yesterday was his fault.
"I shouldn't have tried to force it," Cameron says.
Phil shrugs. "It's kind of embarrassing," he admits. It surprises Cameron; with all the things that don't embarrass the man, some of which probably should, he wouldn't have thought that admitting to a fear of clowns would.
"Actually, more people are afraid of clowns than you'd think," Cameron says. Not that he will ever admit as much to Mitchell. "It's not that unusual."
"Do they run and hide in the bathroom and then faint when one gets too close?" Phil asks pointedly, and Cameron winces.
Phil goes quiet after that, but doesn't seem ready to leave yet. Cameron searches desperately for something to break the silence.
"Coffee?" he asks, and Phil accepts with all the enthusiasm of a drowning man being thrown a life preserver and then says nothing else.
There's no coffee actually ready, which means Cameron has to make some. The conversation continues to stagnate while it brews, both men getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute.
They're sitting across from each other at the table, steaming mugs in hand. It's been fifteen minutes since anyone's spoken.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Cameron asks, and doesn't miss the sudden flash of discomfort in the other man's eyes. "We don't have to-"
"I found a dead clown in the woods when I was a kid," Phil blurts. They stare at each other for a minute before Phil's shoulders slump. "I've been terrified of them ever since. Claire found out a few years ago by accident. Hard to hide something like that when a clown pops out of nowhere on you and you scream like a little girl and try to hide behind your wife...she still doesn't really understand why, though."
"You never told her?"
"I've never told anyone before today. I mean, my parents knew, growing up, but..." he trails off, and they both take a sip of their coffee.
"I mean, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable fear, especially given its...cause." Cam offers after a moment.
"Yeah, I don't really remember the details." Phil admits. "I mean, I remember that it happened, but not much else. Sometimes I have nightmares, though, and it's usually the same clown every time."
That sounds like trauma to Cameron. It's a little weird, given that Phil is generally a pretty laid-back kind of guy, at least until he gets excited about something. He's not really someone you associate with finding dead bodies in the woods and deep-rooted, incapacitating fears.
"I really am sorry," he says. "Don't worry, you'll never see Fizbo again." As much as it hurts, family is more important, especially salvaging whatever's possibly left of Mitchell's relationship with his sister and brother-in-law.
He doesn't dare hope that things might be okay for him too. Not yet.
Phil laughs, but it sounds a bit forced. "You don't have to do that," he says, but Cameron isn't sure he means it. Phil clears his throat. "I mean, it's obviously super important to you, and you shouldn't have to stop just because it bothers me-I just can't be around it, and it has nothing to do with you. As long as I have an escape route, though, I'm usually okay."
"So don't corner you in the kitchen, got it." They both chuckle awkwardly, and Cameron thinks maybe he hasn't ruined things for his partner after all. "Or the bathroom."
"Or in any room," Phil adds, then laughs as if he's joking even though they both know he's not.
By the time they finish their coffee Phil's lost most of his unease, which in turn allows Cameron to relax. It's not often that Phil is that uncomfortable, and knowing it was his fault was not doing Cameron any favors.
Now, though-now things might just about be back to normal between the two of them.
"Thanks for the coffee," Phil says, getting up. Cameron stands as well.
"Thanks for stopping by. And for the toys and stuff. Sorry again about yesterday."
Phil waves the apology off, pats him a little awkwardly on the shoulder, and says his goodbyes. Cameron sees him to the door, watches him walk to his car and get in, closes the door and locks it, and breathes a deep sigh of relief.
Maybe he hasn't ruined everything after all.
Author's Note: Because in the show it's simply passed off as funny, and of course there's Phil's deadpan delivery about finding a dead clown in the woods as a kid, and I like to make a mountain out of a molehill.
Disclaimer: Modern Family does not belong to me.