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ussjellyfish · 6 years

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hold to the now, the here 8/?| teen | philinda, family | Agents of SHIELD

family and emotions and being together, many thanks to @holdouttrout, @crazymaryt and @imaginationallcompact. Sorry this one took a little longer, end of the semester woes...

thanks for enjoying this!

The team hides out in a cabin in Germany and has some time for little things, like family dinners and board games. Melinda's nauseated again, but everyone looks after her and she doesn't hate it. Not even a little bit.

(also on ao3)

Pressing her forehead into Phil's t-shirt, she sighs, eyes shut. He pats her arm, finding her fingers and pulling her hand up to his chest. It's so early that it's still dark, and behind the curtains, rain patters on the window. That makes the whole thing so frustrating. She's not hungry, doesn't need to be awake, and yet... Her breasts itch, heavy even though they're pressed against his back.

Rain patters against the window, wind whipping around their little cabin in some half-hearted storm. The window's open a crack for fresh air, and in early autumn, they didn't need a thick blanket. At least, Phil didn't. She's still cold. Jemma says her body temperature is a little high, which is normal. Whatever passes for normal now.

Phil rolls over, wrapping her tighter in his arms, holding her close to his chest. "Hey."

He smells familiar, better than the foreign sheets and the pine trees outside the window.

"You okay?"

What does she say? Her head hurts, throbbing if she moves and her stomach's rising into her throat. He strokes her hair, probably still half asleep.

"If I don't move."

"Try to go back to sleep."

"Very wise."

He chuckles, because that's his response to that tone.

"I'm sorry. You need sleep."

"I'll take a nap." Yesterday she fell asleep while he read his book and Jemma pointed out, almost proud, that it was the third time that week. It's lazy, complacent. They could be found and need to run, but the bags are packed enough. Fitz and Daisy have enough surveillance on the cabin that they nearly went out after a bear, icers in hand.

They're all right today, maybe even tomorrow.

"It's just a couple more weeks."

"So you say."

"Optimism is kind of my thing."

"I know." She's going to throw up, maybe not in the next hour or so, but definitely before lunch. She makes a little disgusted sound and buries herself closer to him.

"I'm sorry." He keeps running his fingers through her hair, dancing them over her scalp. His fingers are cool little points, like rain.

"Don't be."

"So be happy you want to throw up?'

"It's for a good cause." She nearly loses the last word in a whimper. Maybe she shouldn't speak. He can talk for both of them, that's always worked before."

"The garbage can is next to the bed. I've got you. It's all right."

Beats throwing up on the floor. Maybe she can focus, think about something else.

"Not very romantic."

"You kidding? This is the most romantic."

His standards are suspect, but if she keeps her eyes closed, her stomach's not as bad.

He kisses her forehead again. "I've got you, what else could I need?"

Whistling around the cabin, the wind whispers at them while the rain drums down. Focus on that, on him, on her breathing, focus on anything but her stomach. Maybe it'll go away if she goes back to sleep. If she can figure out how to go back to sleep. Where's Phil's book when she needs it?

She runs through the basic forms in her head, poses, maneuvers, everything she's drilled in since she was a child. That helps, that she can focus on. How her limbs should move is a positive thing, something she can control about her body, not this. This is outside of what she knows, what she understands about her own flesh. Right now, her breasts still hurt, they're hot, heavy inside her skin, and none of her feels like hers.

Maybe it's not. Maybe it's like some kind of parasitic infection, their traveller, taking over her over.

"Sleep," he whispers. "Listen to the rain. You can hear it in the trees, not just on the roof."

He loves the middle of nowhere. Heavy forests remind him of home, fishing in the woods with his parents. He'll teach this one how to tease fish out of water with a line. She's only ever found ponds useful when they're frozen, but maybe that's how they balance each other.

It's still raining when she wakes up again, and he's gone. She rolls onto her back, hands on her chest. The bed's cool without him, and she pushes off the blanket, trying to focus on the cold, and the sound of the rain. Just hold still, wait for it to pass. It'll pass. It's just hormones, and she can beat them.

"Hey," he starts, setting things down next to the bed. "I was hoping you'd sleep a little longer."

"It's cold without you."

"And without the blanket."

She waits.

Of course he talks. "Stomach's still bad?"

Nodding once is enough movement to force her to swallow, and he sits beside her, reaching for her hand.

"I brought crackers, and Daisy found ginger ale at the store. She's really good at shopping."

"No."

"No?" He leans down, stroking her hands. "It might help."

"No." She sits up, which makes her stomach roll like a jet pulling a hard six.

He moves towards the garbage can, and she'd laugh except they might actually need the damn thing. "Gently."

"I'm not eating in bed, Phil."

"That's it?"

"It's nice, having a--"

"Okay, okay." He reaches for her shoulders, holding her steady. "How about the floor? I promise I'll sweep."

Meeting his eyes without daring to nod, or even speak, she shuts her eyes when he gets it. Phil picks her up, and then they're sitting together on cool wood, leaning against the bed. His arm stays around her shoulders, firmer than her own control.

"Sorry."

"You can--"

"Didn't want to leave you. FitzSimmons are still making breakfast anyway. Beans and toast--"

Squeezing his wrist makes him reach for the little plastic garbage can and he sets it just beyond her knees. "And oatmeal. I figured that was much safer."

"My parents used to make rice porridge."

"Yeah?"

Thinking about them is easier. Her mother always had to go to work, but her father would sit at home with her when she was sick, make sure she ate, and then watch whatever was on television. Usually it was terrible.

Rubbing her shoulder with his right hand, he opens the plastic sleeve of crackers with his left. "Eat, Simmons swears it'll help, and she's been buried in books all morning."

Taking one saltine cracker, she holds it like poison.

"I got you out of bed."

There's no way to put it into words that her body isn't her own right now and she has no way of fighting back. She takes a bite as if it's going to kill her, but she doesn't throw up, not with a mouthful of dry cracker, or after she manages to swallow.

"It's okay," he continues, still smiling. "This is the hardest thing you have to do today, by far. Everything else is downhill."

It takes three bites to finish the first stupid cracker but she releases the death grip on his knee. Maybe it's not that bad. Maybe Jemma is right. He cracks open the can of soda, passing that to her. Her sweaty hands slip over the condensation on the metal, but it can sit on the floor, it's all right there.

"Your last blood test was good, hormone levels were high, which is probably why we're here now, but Jemma says it's all very positive. Even this part, though I know it's unpleasant."

"Not bad."

"You're staring at a can of ginger ale like it's radioactive waste." He kisses her hair, stroking the sweat from her forehead. "I won't even mention the worst option, that'll really make you throw up."

Coffee's never made her nauseated, but the acrid burn in the back of her throat suggests that she doesn't want to push her luck any further than she already has.

"Hey." He draws her attention away from the ginger ale she still hasn't trusted herself to drink. "Better or worse than before your wedding?"

It's an unfair comparison. She could only blame herself (and him) for the hangover, but this means something. It's not even just the anticipation of marrying Andrew, of starting that life together, this is a life. This is that squirming, laughing, little child she never thought she'd have. That she doesn't deserve.

"Better."

"That's the most positive thing you've said."

Taking a breath, she steadies her hands and takes a sip. The bubbles sting the back of her nose and the sugar clings to her tongue, but it doesn't come rushing back up.

Footsteps pad over the old floor and those blue socks have to be Jemma's. Daisy rarely cares enough to make hers match.

"How's it going?"

"We've had better mornings, though she says it's not bachelor party bad, so we're still doing all right."

Jemma crouches down beside them, kneeling on the floor to look at her face. "Did you know your stomach acid is actually affected by your hormones? Which can add to the sensation of nausea but tends to soften the detrimental effects of reverse peristalsis."

Makes sense. Everything else is enslaved to her hormones, why not that?

Jemma touches her forehead, her fingers much cooler than Phil's. "Your body temperature's still elevated, and you should be careful to make sure you're staying hydrated, especially if you do end up vomiting."

"Thanks."

"It'll pass," Jemma promises. "Statistically most nausea ends with the first trimester, and you're more than halfway through that now. You can start thinking of it as the home stretch. That probably doesn't help at all." Her little smile is very kind and very soft. "You'll get through this, and it'll be worth it. I personally don't have a lot of experience with babies, but I think I'm going to really love getting to know this one, even though their brain won't be advanced enough for any real kind of interaction until several months after birth."

"Good to know." Phil turns his smile towards Jemma, and he probably hasn't looked at any of the books about how to parent an infant yet, he's focused on now. Probably hasn't thought much beyond this moment, where they're going next, how he'll keep her safe.

She doesn't let anyone else worry about that. Daisy, Jemma and Fitz fuss, and they're protective, but Phil's the only one who she really allows to hover.

"Everything okay?"

When she opens her eyes again, Fitz sits next to Jemma, his hands on his knees. "I made the most boring porridge imaginable, and it might be a little better warm than cold, but if cold helps, then it's right there for you."

Daisy leans in the doorway, her hair falling over one shoulder. "It's still raining as if the sky's angry with us, maybe even hailing, so we were thinking we'd play board games, if you're up for it."

"Distractions are good," Phil answers for her, rubbing her knee. "And this usually passes by mid morning. Breakfast helps." He turns his face to her, almost stern. "When you eat it." He presses another cracker into her hand and she can't remember the last time she had an audience so intent on her ability to finish it.

"Daisy's pretty sure she downloaded the instructions for the newest game in English, but she could be cheating."

"You're just disappointed you didn't take the German elective at the Academy."

"It didn't seem relevant, we've been on the same side since World War Two ended, and Hydra was really supposed to be gone."

"Well--"

"We know how that went."

"Come on, May," Jemma insists when she's done arguing with Fitz. "Try the porridge, that should settle things a little." She offers her hand, and Phil's right there. Fitz and Daisy stay close, ready to fuss as much as everyone else.

Melinda can't even hate it. All of their care is rooted in affection and concern because she and Phil took them all out of what was familiar, shook up what all of them thought was important. Jemma and Fitz getting married was a start, an unravelling of the way they functioned as a team, and this just tugs at it. She's mentored all of them, protected them, and now they hover around the kitchen table, talking and laughing while she stares at the bowl in front of her like it's an endurance test.

They're her family, and this child is theirs too. Too bad she can't share the nausea with the affection.

Jemma touches her shoulder, smiling again, and brings her more tea before she takes away the mostly empty bowl of porridge; the last few bites are impossible. Phil pats her hand under the table and she's never seen Daisy look so happy about her turn washing dishes.

Fitz makes sure the table is close to the sofa so she barely has to move as they lay out the game.

Spending the entire day killing time while the rain pours down and they wait to be certain of their next move, doesn't even feel like an operation. It's a vacation. This is the holiday in Europe Jemma and Fitz joked about and never got to take. The family vacation Daisy's never had a chance to have. She's travelled with Phil across the world, shared bedrooms and tents, even slept rough a few times., but this time it's intimate, close in a way they've never been before. She wakes up against his chest and falls asleep listening to his breathing.

She could be doing anything with them and it would be wonderful. Playing this strategy game that Fitz is so convinced he's winning is pleasant, even takes her mind off her headache.

She should have done something, made this happen years ago, but perhaps the timing wasn't right. Maybe they had to look a miserable future in the face to realize what they had to change here to make it better. She rests her head on Phil's shoulder, shutting her eyes and listening to them work out who won.

Fitz nearly drops his pencil in surprise. "May won by eighteen points."

Phil starts to chuckle, then kisses her hair. "I'll get more tea."

"I'll get biscuits," Jemma adds, jumping up to follow him.

"That's not--" Fitz pauses, scratching the back of his head. "You were collecting rubies, that's not, that's not a stable strategy for the long term."

"It worked."

"This time." Fitz starts setting up the game again.

Daisy raises her eyebrows and sits back. "Again?"

The first round took most of the morning, They'll need to break for lunch and the rain's still pouring down. Phil kept smiling at her, toying with her hair because he knew she'd win, and Fitz apparently did not.

"Eighteen points, and you've never played this game before." Fitz taps one of the tokens. "It's supposed to be difficult."

Phil and Jemma return with more cookies than they could ever really need. He grabs one and pops it in his mouth before he sits down. Jemma starts pouring tea while Daisy and Fitz stare.

"It was difficult."

Toying with the inside of her wrist, Phil smiles that very knowing smile. "She likes difficult games."

"Yeah, we all like games, but one of us won by eighteen points."

"Maybe you'll win this time."

Leaning closer, Phil nuzzles her ear. "You'd think he'd remember what they say about specialists and winning."

"Maybe he skipped that day."

Dais slips next to her on the sofa, reaching across for a cookie. "What are you two whispering about?"

"May doesn't lose board games."

"What, like ever?"

"Or cards." Phil passes her a cookie and shrugs. "Never play cards with May."

"Noted."

"I'm not evil."

"You are, actually indeed evil."

"There's a strip poker story, isn't there?" Daisy looks at Jemma who sips her tea and leans back.

"Well, lets hear it while Fitz sets up the game he has to win."

"I don't have to win."

"Uh huh."

Phil makes the story grandiose and ridiculous at the same time, spinning it so their long dead friends seem to be there again. There are several asides, random pieces of backstory that have to be added on, sometimes they backtrack. The cookies disappear and Fitz loses the game not just to her this time (she's up by eleven) but to Daisy as well.

He shakes his head. "All right, all right. Hopefully you like pasta because it's one of the things I'm better at cooking, and Jemma couldn't find buffalo mozzarella."

"Or prosciutto, possibly because I couldn't ask for it the right way."

"Can we ask for anything the right way?"

"We do have those dumplings? We can make soup, soup is good, right?" Fitz looks first at Jemma, then to Phil and Daisy before he meets her eyes. "I don't want to--"

Melinda rolls her eyes at him. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure, because you still look kinda..."

"Kind of pale, really-"

"Not quite green-"

"Maybe a shade-"

"Something on that side of the spectrum, still very beautiful, of course."

She laughs a little, weary but amused. "You think I'm beautiful?"

"Yes."

"Beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"Seriously, you're like, fucking hot."

"Thank you, Daisy, that's--"

The acute awareness of just how much she's going to miss them hits her like another wave of nausea and she stops, just staring at them. Phil rubs her back, because he gets it. He's saying goodbye to them as well and it'll be so quiet until they see them again.

"Thanks."

"Don't get emotional on us," Daisy teases. "We're counting on you to be stoic so the rest of us don't cry."

"It'll fly by," Phil promises, touching her cheek in a way that makes it better and a hundred times worse. Even Daisy's going and they haven't been apart from her for more than a handful of days since she was off on her own, and she's hours past when her nausea bugs her, but this is harder. She can't just empty her stomach and take this away. This will stay with her, nag like an old injury.

Daisy can move quickly, and insivisibly through the world, she's done that before, and she has backup out there if she needs it. Bobbi and Hunter are within her reach, and Mack and Elena are in South America. Daisy can collect them, assemble a team again. She'll be fine, absolutely fine, but they'll be without her. She and Phil will have each other and a quiet house thousands of miles away from everything, and not their team.

That has to be enough for awhile. A kind of retirement, a long vacation, a break they needed, nausea and all. It'll be fine. Even if thinking about letting them go makes her eyes sting. She doesn't usually struggle to keep her emotions in check, she can use them, but now Melinda buries her forehead in Phil's shoulder, shutting her eyes and steeling herself. They're all leaving tomorrow, but she'll have him.

She always has him.

Phil runs his fingers over her back, between her shoulder blades.

"Come on Fitz, let's see what soup looks like," Daisy announces, smiling a little.

"We could just put beer in it like everything else," Fitz jumps up to follow her.

Jemma lingers, circling to study her face. "How's the dizziness?"

"I'm not-"

"Of course not, you'd never be dizzy, anyway, let me check your blood pressure."

She could resist, argue that she's fine, but this is how Jemma cares, so she obeys. Phil, sweet and soft as he is, sits beside her, resting his hand on her knee.

"Daisy's fake passports should be enough that we can fly, they shouldn't check us too closely, we'll be within the European Union and that tends to be lower security." She slides the blood pressure cuff up Melinda's arm, moving her shirt. "Of course, the trains are easier, and Daisy's fake Russian visas for you are much better than the usual fakes people use to travel, and once you get to China you'll just blend in, right?"

"I won't," Phil teases, his hand finding the back of his neck. "But I'm used to that. Confused tourist, beautiful wife."

"You got lucky."

"I did."

Jemma watches them and the needle on the cuff, counting under her breath. "We'll be able to keep in touch, we have the links Daisy made us and encrypted emails. It won't be long before we see you again." She blinks, smiling even though has to sniffs. "You will be missed, both of you." She glances down for a second and then looks back up. "It'll go so fast."

"The mornings do not."

"I know, I'm sorry. I can give you some antiemetics, but those are really designed to stop you from vomiting, not really take away the sensation that you might." That little wince is almost too sweet.

"It's all right."

Phil smiles at Jemma, a little skeptical. "You know she'd say that anyway."

"I do, which is why I wish I could do more." Jemma releases the cuff, and nods. "Your blood pressure's still a little low, so I want you to take it easy, make sure you drink enough water, eat regularly, stand up slowly if you've been sitting for awhile, and keep up your tai chi, because that should help your body feel more like yours."

"Thank you, Jemma."

"Of course, it's really my pleasure, I- I am so happy for you."

Every other time they've hugged, Jemma's started it. Not that Melinda minds, she's not used to responding to affection, rather than initiating it, but this time, she hugs her close. Jemma relaxes against her, exhaling slowly. Phil pats her back, and then he's with them, wrapping Jemma up tight between them.

"Be careful, please."

"We will."

"And look after each other, remember to eat healthily, put avocados in your green smoothies because you really should increase your fat intake, especially for the first trimester."

"We'll be fine," Melinda promises her. "Phil will make sure we eat well. He can't stop cooking."

"Cooking for family is one of the great pleasure in life."

"That's how I know we'll see you, soon. We're family."

Melinda's eyes sting. She could fight it, but there's no reason to. Not today. Her eyes are wet when Jemma pulls back, and she stares at her, blinking back her own tears. "I always wanted a big family."

In the kitchen, Daisy and Fitz laugh about something, and Phil touches her cheek, easing her tears away.

"Don't tell them she cried, I want it to be a surprise, just imagine the looks on their faces."

Rolling her eyes only makes Jemma laugh and Phil leans close to kiss her.

Daisy and Fitz emerge from the kitchen, Fitz holding a potato with the most perplexed expression.

"What? Everything okay?"

"We're fine." Phil's far too pleased with himself.

"I just wanted to check May's blood pressure and then we started talking about splitting up."

"I thought we weren't talking about that at dinner," Daisy reminds them. "Just, let it wait until tomorrow and we can all hate it then."

"It's hard for all of us," Fitz adds, fidgeting with the potato in his hands. "But we'll find each other again, we always do, even across time and space. One little planet's pretty easy."

"I know."

They crowd around her again, dinner momentarily forgotten and instead of mocking her tears or staring at them in awe, Daisy touches her shoulder, and Phil's. "You're going to be so cute when we see you again, because baby Agent will probably be kicking and you won't be able to stop talking about it."

"I think that's normal."

"I'm not sure I like kids," Fitz says, kneeling down in front of the sofa. "Never know what to say to them, never spent any time around babies, but this one, I'm excited to know, because we can teach her how to hold a wrench, and what kind of screwdriver to use and watch her figure out basic kinds of physics. She'll even have to figure out gravity. That's pretty cool, if you think about it."

They spend so much time hugging and crying that dinner's going to be late, really late, which is probably why they promised not to talk about splitting up tonight. Phil can't resist rolling up his sleeves and saving dinner (he loves cooking) and Daisy ends up sitting on the sofa beside her. Daisy hands her another tissue and shakes her head. "I used to think you didn't even have tear ducts."

"I didn't, Jemma put these in last week." Melinda keeps her expression neutral and Daisy laughs. Her laugh has such light in it.

"You're going to be amazing parents, you know that right?"

"We wouldn't be here without you."

"Stuck in Germany?"

"Not that kind of here."

Daisy just looks at her, patient and confused, and Melinda sighs, grabbing her hands.

"You, Jemma and Leopold, helped bring us here, reminded us that we could want something more than work, and we needed that, because we'd forgotten we were more than agents."

"Kinda easy to become a workaholic when you're literally saving the world, isn't it?"

"It seems like everything else should come first. That you owe that to the world because you can protect them."

"That doesn't mean you don't matter, that you can't want anything for yourself. You deserve this, more than anyone. You know that, right?" The way Daisy can say that with such certainty means that they've done better with her training than they ever achieved by themselves. That maybe in this rebirth of SHIELD and all it stands for they can have a little room for their own lives. That Daisy will make different choices and she won't realize what she wants so late.

Almost too late.

Phil wanders back, asking a gentle question about what they want to drink with dinner, but Melinda's still crying and now Daisy's started.

He crouches in front of them, his hand on Melinda's arm. "I didn't know you were so disappointed that you can't have wine with dinner."

"You're going to be such great parents, you know that, right? It'll be all dad jokes and mom faces and Baby Agent's going to be so loved."

Phil nods, and the way he looks at Daisy holds so much affection that his eyes are liquid. "May was always going to be a great mom, but you helped me feel like I could be a father."

Their relationship has always been special, close in a way it took Melinda and Daisy much more time to achieve. When Daisy hugs him tight, so tight that he gasps a little as he's dragged onto the sofa. Melinda touches her back, resting her hand on Daisy's shoulder.

"You're such a dad," Daisy insists. "How could you not know that?"

"He's a little dense."

Phil feigns indignation, kissing her cheek. "I'm going to tell Mack and Elena you cried."

Mack lost his daughter, so telling him will carry a weight that she can't even imagine. This child of theirs is barely more than an idea, and losing it would cut deep. Losing one that she’s held is unimaginable. Phil kisses her forehead when she’s quiet.

“I love you.”

That makes him tilt his head, running his fingers along her cheek. “I love you too.”

Melinda keeps Daisy close, but she doesn’t try to retreat. She stays when Phil heads back into the kitchen to finish dinner, and her arm wraps around Melinda’s shoulders.

“You’ll send us ultrasound pictures when you have them, right?”

She nods. “I don’t think there’s much to look at.”

“I’ve never seen one, but I think I want too.” Daisy hugs her tighter. “Take care of him, okay? Don’t let him get lost in Russia.”

“His Russian is terrible.”

“You’ve said.”

“It’s been terrible for years.”

Phil smiles at her from the door to the kitchen. Muttering that he heard that in his wretched Russian.

“I don’t have a cat either.”

“I didn’t say cat,” he pauses, the shakes his head, “I think. What’s the word for cat?”

“кошка.”

“Show off.” He offers his hand to help her off the couch. She doesn’t need it, being lightheaded is no worse than any of the concussions she’s lived through, and Jemma’s fussing is unnecessary. Still, his fingers are warm, and the way he runs his thumb across the back of her hand makes her smile.

Daisy slips away into the kitchen, leaving them alone in the living room and Melinda watches her dark hair bounce on her shoulders.

“She’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about her.”

He takes her other hand, holding them against his chest. “I think we can handle a few months together, just you and me.”

“Sounds like a honeymoon.” Kissing his cheek, she rests against his neck. “Don’t tell my mother. She’d kill me if I eloped again.”

#philinda #hold to the now the here #nausea cw #melinda may #phil coulson #daisy johnson #jemma simmons #leopold fitz #babyfic #bus family #aos #aos fic

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viewfromthestandblog · 3 years

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"IT'S MY CLUB, IT"S YOUR CLUB, IT'S OUR CLUB" MICHAEL HEFELE ON HIS MOVE BACK TO HUDDERSFIELD, HIS FUTURE PLANS AND THE VITAL ROLE SUPPORTERS PLAY

He's an absolute legend and he's BACK. Michael Hefele.... bringing his passion, heart, honesty and respect to this new chapter in his life and his new ambassadorial role at Huddersfield Town.

Here's my EXCLUSIVE conversation IN FULL when the Hef sat down to talk all things Town ahead of the first Championship fixture of a brand new Season.

HH: it's so good to have you back! And thank you so much Hef for taking the time to speak to me. First up how did the move back to Huddersfield happen?

MF: Well Phil Hodgkinson, the Chairman, contacted me a couple of months ago. I think it was in February or March, asking what my situation is, what I'm doing, what are my plans and my thoughts for the future? And I pretty much told him that I'm retiring because I couldn't come back from my last injury. And then I asked him, well I told him my vision... my plan would be to come back to Huddersfield Town in a different role to do my coaching badges, to develop as a coach and as well as I have a sporting director course starting now in September. So to develop these two sides and just to be in the football club again which I love, and which gave me a lot. And just to start a second career here with Huddersfield Town. Obviously I've got big plans and I told him my plans: that I'm looking in the future to be a Head Coach or something like this; or in the sporting director direction. But I have to do a lot of learning and a lot of work, and I want to get to know everything from scratch. Learn everything from scratch. And the people here are helping me a lot because it's a family club and you feel the positivity and the people are very friendly, and very very helpful. And so it's very heartwarming for me and Leigh Bromby is helping me a lot too. He's teaching me a lot as well; like the Academy, all the Coaches. And David (Threlfall-Sykes).... I could name everybody!....they've given so much input and it's just amazing to be back. And what is helping me after such a dark time is all the support from the supporters, from the fans, all the love. It's just incredible and it feels so so good.

HH: So you're seeing a manager/sporting director role potentially in the future.... What sort of manager will Michael Hefele be, be do you think? Like David Wagner (calm and composed)? What kind of manager do you see yourself being in say 5 years time?

MF: Well I'm just Michael Hefele. Michael Hefele is Michael Hefele!... There's a lot to learn. It's early doors but there's a lot of passion, with a lot of heart, a lot of honesty, respect are my main habits. What I got taught was that you're respectful, you're honest and you're hardworking, that you're passionate, and you put a lot of work and effort into every situation in your life. Doesn't matter on the pitch or in the office, always bring 100%. Always willing to learn, always put as much effort as you can put in.

HH: And as an ambassador for the Club, what are your ambitions for this role. In terms of the community; in terms of Huddersfield as a place?

MH: Well everything! I just want to give the Club back what they gave me. With the opportunity to live my dream, to play in England. And I had such a nice spell here. So I just want to give as much back as I can to every department, and everywhere. And where I can help I'm very open to help. And I want to glue everyone together. Fans, the Town, the Club, the players, the staff.... all the people around. It's not just about one person it's about 'we are Huddersfield Town', we are one community and this is what makes us strong. This Terrier bound, this Terrier spirit that we put together. It's my Club, it's your Club, it's our Club.

HH: 100%!!! I saw you were at the game on Sunday and I wondered what it was like to watch the game against Sheffield Wednesday on Sunday (when Town won on penalties in 2017).... it must have brought back some great memories?

MH; It brought back great memories.... Hillsborough is great, and because for me I think it's a fantastic stadium. We had fantastic memories there, and a great night. (When I played there) it was one of the great nights of my footballing career, so obviously it's good when you come back to such a place where you had major success. And even when we went to the penalty shoot out and it was quite relaxed because I already knew we could win here in the Stadium because we used to do. So I was very happy and glad for the fans that they come back the first time and they got a little bit more than just 90 minutes.

HH: And looking forward to this coming Season, what do you think is possible that we could achieve? Obviously the last couple of Seasons we've been in a relegation battle and we've survived but now with Carlos and his second Season and now there's been a lot of players brought into the Club, what do you think could be achieved this Season?

MH: Well we had a good start already with the Cup now, but what I see so far everybody's humble, everybody's hungry and has a desire to win and the most important thing is that we have to stick together. Doesn't matter how we start or how it is going, everything is possible from my perspective. So we just have to be together and the supporters will play a massive, massive part of it. Because they can push the lads on the pitch. They can bring like this positive atmosphere when the guys are trying to win. You know sometimes you make a mistake and then the fans are there to help.... to cheer you up.... to help you out. Not to boo because this is never good because it doesn't give the players good confidence. But so far I'm full of confidence. We are just very excited that everybody is together and we have to keep in our mind that everything is possible BUT as a unit. And everybody.... and when I mean everybody I mean everybody. Even you! 100% Huddersfield Town you know. We are altogether successful and we'll have a very good time.

HH: You're a cult hero Michael through your time as a player, and now coming back to the Club. How much are you looking forward to interacting back with the supporters again?

MH: Obviously it's a big part of me. I like to be in the community more or less. I want to interact with everybody, just to glue everybody together. It doesn't matter where they come from, which culture, which religion. I'm very open minded. I like to be around different people. So I'm very excited that everybody can come together after this spell which was not nice for everybody with the pandemic obviously. But now we start together this Season and it will surely be a successful one.

HH: Just taking it back, briefly to your playing days what were your memories of that promotion Season and do you see any similarities between this group of players and the group of players you had back then? And the managers too - Wagner and Carlos.... do you see any similarities between the two?

MH: Well it's early stage. I mean everybody has their own style. The players, what I see so far.... they've got the hunger, they've got the desire. So I see this similarity to the promotion team but this is a different scenario and you can't compare apples with bananas or bananas with apples! So I hope we write a new history right now. But we have to stick together, we have to be humble, we have to work hard every day. Just work work work. And then, as I say everything is possible.

HH: I remember when you left Huddersfield Town as a player, and I wondered how tough a decision it was to leave?

MH: Well it was not my decision. I had to go, you know from David (Wagner). I never wanted to go. Huddersfield Town gave me the opportunity of English football, they gave me the opportunity to live my dream and I'm very thankful. The connection and the happiness and the togetherness. The belief.... what I experienced here it's just amazing. I'm lucky enough that I am a part of this football club and we achieved a lot of things. It was never my intention to leave the football club but sometimes that's how it is and you have to go on. Now I'm luckily back and it feels like three years that was in a blur.... so I'm just happy to be back. It feels like I never was away.

HH: What did you think of Nottingham Forest as a Club, and the comparisons between Forest and Huddersfield?

MH: Nottingham Forest is a great Club.... a great Club for me. Can't say anything bad about the football Club. It's a huge historical Club. Not many Clubs can win back to back Champions Leagues, and are European winners. I met a lot of people from different backgrounds, including high profile people which is amazing and I learnt a lot. Unfortunately I was always injured because of different problems: a torn achilles, I twisted my knee, broke my foot. Unfortunately it shouldn't be like this. I like the Club because it's so big and so huge, and the City Ground and it was an amazing feeling to play as well. The Brian Clough Trophy that we won and this is a great experience but at the end of the day I played half a year there and the rest I was more or less injured so my body let me down because I put everything on the line. Then it ends up as not such a good spell when you are just injured and you suffer a lot.

HH: From the outside looking in, I've always been a huge fan of Chris Hughton. I think he's a great Coach and he did a fantastic job at Brighton and now at Nottingham Forest. I wondered what you thought of him as a Coach?

MH: Chris is a fantastic guy. I just did a couple of conversations with him. I can't say anymore. He's a good guy. Like Martin O Neill and Sabri Lamouchi and they are fantastic characters and fantastic men and I obviously learned a lot from them.

HH: Finally coming back to Town.... which player in the Huddersfield Town squad best represents the Terrier spirit you played with?

MH: Well everybody's got a little bit of it. But if I have to call one person out, then it has to be Jonathan Hogg. He's the Captain. He's a proper leader and he's played a long time for the Terriers now. He’s outstanding - his working attitude, his character, his honesty is just brilliant. His fight on the pitch, you know. This is Jonathan Hogg.

HH: Could you give me a prediction for Saturday?!

MH: Well it's always tough you know. But obviously I want Town to have a good start to the Season and we win the game. I don't care how much it is by you know.... but at the end of the day we want to have 3 points and a positive start. But sometimes in football you play very good and you just drop but you still have positive momentum. I hope we will have a really good result and obviously 3 points but everyone wants a win in Huddersfield Town, and we are prepared for it.

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ticklishhpickle · 6 years

Text

Worth The Whisk (7/?)

Summary: When superhero Dan Howell gets paired up with fellow hero and arch nemesis Phil Lester for an important mission, he’s pissed beyond belief. But as the two are forced to work together to take down the evil Dr.Bickletwist, Dan finds Phil might not be as awful as he first thought…

Previous Chapter

Ao3 link

“Mate, you’ve got to be shitting me right now.” Dan deadpanned, looking at the old man with a look that would have made any sane person wither. The man just laughed.

“I am 100% serious right now, son. This is the only boat we’ve got left. We can give it a clean before you go, if that will make you feel better.” Dan turned his head to Phil, the withering look on his face slowly being replaced by one of mock enthusiasm. He shot finger guns at Phil purely because he knew it would make him cringe (and giggle).

“Well let’s get started then, shall we?”

Two hours.

It had taken them two bloody whole hours to scrub the entire canoe, stern to bow, of all residual mould, moss and… mice. Dan was bloody exhausted. He threw his lanky body onto the ground, moaning as he did so. Fisher Price simply burst into another fit of chuckles at this, not looking tired at all despite the laborious task they’d all just participated in.

Dan vaguely noticed the sound of lighter, youthful laughter and he cracked his eyes open. He didn’t even have time to react to being poked in the side before his hands were grasped by someone else’s and was gently pulled off the ground.

“Come on, Danny. There’s no time for rest when we have children to save!” The black-haired man exclaimed cheekily before plopping himself into the boat. Dan gave him one of his signature withering looks, but Phil was as unaffected as the old man was. Was Dan losing his edge?

Phil thanked Fisher for all his help, before asking him to detach the boat from the dock and to send them off on their merry way.

The boat rocked slightly as Dan rolled his long body into the canoe, cursing when his cape snagged on the dock. He stretched his legs out and realised that to sit in comfortably in this canoe, his feet would basically have to be tangled with Phil’s awkwardly. He cursed again, this time silently.

“Oh look at you two, all cuddled up! How adorable!” Fisher Price cackled, undoing the rope tethering the boat to the dock. Dan pursed his lips. Not this again.

“I’m sure you lovebirds will have a great time on your very private trip together. Snuggled up real nice on this boat.” Two oars were thrown at them which they barely caught. They looked at each other incredulously, then Fisher.

Dan wasn’t sure if he wanted to respond, and even if he had wanted to he had no idea how to. Despite his superior social skills, it seemed Phil didn’t either.

“Aha! That’s- that’s something! Thanks again for the help, Fisher!” Phil replied, voice an octave higher than usual. If Dan hadn’t been so caught up in his own feelings of awkwardness perhaps he may have noticed the blush that was dusting Phil’s cheeks.

Dan waved goodbye and mumbled in agreement, and with that, Dan gripped his oar tightly and rowed as hard as he could. He couldn’t risk hearing another suggestive comment from the eccentric fisherman.

His joints ached. His legs were numb. He felt like he was going to throw up.

“You know, Phil. It would be nice if you could get your foot out of my ass.” Dan snapped, wriggling to give himself more room but only succeeding in tipping the boat in the process.

“It’s not my fault the boat’s so small!” Phil squeaked out in defence, his bottom lip stuck out.

“Well it is your fault that we’re fucking failing this mission! We should have just busked again and gotten enough money to get a plane or something. Not just taken the first crummy boat we could find!”

“That is as much my fault as it is yours. Maybe you should have mentioned this earlier , instead of being a twat about it now.”

“Oo! A naughty word from such a pure man! Did something I say touch a nerve, ‘I-think-the-sun-shines-out-of-my-ass-man’?”

Phil gritted his teeth at this and gave Dan a look that would even have wilted Fisher Price.

“Dan. Shut up.”

“Oh what, like you did six years ago? Just started fucking ignoring me for no reason? There’s a thing called communication, Phil. Maybe you should learn it sometime.”

The boat rocked and Dan found himself clutching at the sides in desperation, scared of falling out. He looked to the horizon. There was nothing to be seen.

“Well I’m sorry I actually had social capabilities greater than that of a shoe and didn’t run away from basically everyone else at the academy.”

Dan’s jaw dropped at Phil’s words. He did not just say that. Tears welled at his eyes but Dan was quick to will them away. He wouldn’t let Phil see him like this. He was fine with Phil seeing him angry, but sad- that was something much more personal. Something Phil had lost the right to see the second he broke the best friendship Dan had ever had up.

How dare he? Phil fucking knew he got extremely anxious talking to new people, a problem he’d confided in Phil about in the days they were friends. And now Phil was using it against him.

He was brought back to his first day of superschool. Dan had been young. Twelve years old only, an actual fetus. Scared of practically everyone who wasn’t his big brother, the second he’d stepped into the academy he’d been shaking like a leaf, scared of the unknown.

“Mason, I’m scared.” He whined, nestling his head in his older brother’s embrace.

Dan had never felt particularly close to anyone in his family. No one except Mason. His dad was rarely there, seeming to be more interested in work than his own children. His mum had died when he was a small child, and as much as he hated it, he could barely remember anything about her.

Mason had always been amused, but supportive of Dan’s obsession with superheroes. And now he was the only one sending him off to superschool. As if his dad would care.

“Hey little dude, it will be okay. I have to go now, but you’re going to be the best superhero ever. I just know it.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

And with that, Mason gently pulled him out of his embrace, smiled, and left him there in the Supernova Hero Academy. He was terrified.

His morning classes had passed rather slowly. He didn’t know anyone except the Ocean Liner, and even then they’d only met once for the admission interview. His familiarity with his trainer mostly resided in the fact that he was a huge fan of him, and had been following his work for years. Not actual personal contact or anything ridiculous like that.

Come lunchtime, Dan was sitting alone. That was no surprise. He’d always thought his real superpower was the ability to maintain superhuman levels of awkwardness in nearly every social situation.

He looked up from his sandwich (toasted with his own fire power) when he saw a kid about his age, black hair and glasses come sit next to him. The boy smiled.

“Hello, my nem’s Phil.” He said, sticking a hand out for Dan to shake. He has an accent, Dan noticed.

“Oh. H-hello.” Dan stuttered, looking at the boy with wide eyes before remembering to shake his hand.

“Are you alright? I noticed you looked upset during flying class.”

To say that he’d looked upset would be an understatement. Dan had been sobbing in the corner for most of the class, the Ocean Liner having to stop the class to calm him down. Dan would have liked to think that he was upset because he was bad at flying- but no, that wasn’t it. He was upset because it had felt just like the first day of primary school, where he found himself surrounded by strangers he had no idea how to talk to.

“I’m okay.” Dan lied, but his red eyes told a different story.

Phil seemed to contemplate something for a second, frowning a bit before he replied.

“Okay, but if you ever need to talk to someone I’m here, you know.”

Dan didn’t reply, but risked a peek at the boy’s face. His eyes were a brilliant blue, a hue so striking Dan could only compare it to that of the ocean. His large, but not jarringly so, nose was lightly dusted with freckles. They were so small you’d only be able to see them up close. His dark hair contrasted starkly with his pale complexion, and Dan felt himself grow calmer the more he looked at him.

“Thanks.”

Phil grinned, his smile stretching from ear to ear. The blue eyes seemed to sparkle as he did so.

“You’re welcome. It’s Dan, right?”

“Fuck. You.” Dan gritted out, fists clenched so tightly around his oar he thought it would break.

Phil simply raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, daring Dan to react, to throw a hissy fit or something of the sort.

“How dare you throw that in my face? I had no fucking friends in primary school because I was too scared to talk to anyone, and you think it’s okay to just make fun of that, you fucking prick?”

Phil’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, probably to apologise, but Dan wasn’t having any of it.

“I fucking hate you! You know, I was actually starting to think you were okay-”

“Dan-”

“Shut up! It’s time for me to talk, because according to you I haven’t done enough of that in my life! You ignorant piece of-

“DAN!”

“WHAT?”

“The boat’s on fire!” Phil said, and suddenly Dan noticed that despite the ghostly look of fear painted on Phil’s face, his complexion was red, too red- unhealthily so.

He looked to the left of Phil and his stomach dropped as he saw the bright flames of vermillion scorching the boat that seemed even more pathetic in comparison.

“Fuck! Look what you made me do!”

Dan growled, immediately extinguishing the flames he’d inadvertently caused. His face was bright crimson now, partly from anger, but mostly due to embarrassment. (Nothing to do with the fire- he was heat resistant, after all.) Phil probably thought he was even dumber than he actually was now.

He quickly checked the exterior, then the interior of the boat. Nothing seemed to be gravely burn, shockingly. He heaved a sigh of relief, before glancing sheepishly at Phil to check that he was okay. Even though he’d been an ass he didn’t want him burnt.

Phil was leaning floppily in the opposite corner of the boat, clearly out of breath from the inhalation of smoke. Dan’s stomach twisted in guilt, and as little as he wanted to talk to Phil right now he needed to make sure he was okay (for the sake of the mission, of course).

“You alright?” He said, anxiously scanning Phil’s body for any signs of injury. “Yeah. Don’t worry.” Phil said, not looking up from the bottom of the boat. His knees were huddled to his chest and his forehead was visibly sweating. Dan frowned at this, even if Phil wasn’t physically injured he was definitely shaken up. Unfortunately for them both, Dan was in no position to comfort him. Not with the fight they’d just had.

The air was thick with tension now, and not the good, sexual kind you read about in gay fanfictions. It was the awkward, terrible kind where everyone involved knew there were things yet to be resolved, that probably were never going to be.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dan wondered if Phil really meant to hurt Dan like he did. If he really hated Dan as much as he seemed to for the past six years. Or maybe it was just something angrily spewed out in the heat of the moment, a stupid thing he would regret for days, weeks, or even months to come. Dan prayed for the latter.

He saw no further point in overthinking, and tried his best to accept the fact that the person Phil was six years ago when they were actually friends was probably long gone.

He inhaled, exhaled then hesitantly turned his back from Phil. He was still mad, the fact he’d nearly burnt Phil to a crisp didn’t change that, as guilty as he felt about it. Dan picked his oar up once again, his hands now slightly blistered from how tight he’d been gripping it during the fight and continued rowing. This was going to be just super.

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elleberquist6 · 6 years

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Believe in Me - chapter two

Summary: Dan Howell is living at home while he’s saving money for college, which isn’t easy since his parents don’t understand him. Unlike them, he loves dogs, is a vegetarian, has no interest in the family business, and he despises the supernatural. He struggles to accept things that are illogical, even though he is a kitsune. Kitsune are foxes whose powers involve the ability to cast illusions, but Dan just wants to be normal. Phil Lester has just moved to London, where he works as a dog walker. When his path crosses with Dan, Phil is eager to get to know him. Unfortunately, Phil soon finds that being friends with Dan is far more complicated than he could have imagined.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1840 Warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

—

Kitsune fact: Kitsune live by an honor code that is believed to be set by Inari (Kitsunes have religion too). Though the details are not written in stone, and each (Myobu) kitsune follows it in his or her own way. One rule is to always repay debts with equal or greater value. [http://fandom.wikia.com/]

They didn’t have to wait long for Hannah to arrive. She apologized so profusely for her dog’s behavior that she seemed to be making the boy uncomfortable. Phil finally convinced her that the best thing she could do was to lead Rotty away.

Phil helped the boy to stand. He paled and swayed in place for a moment, but he didn’t fall over. For a second, Phil thought he saw something white flicker behind the boy, but Phil blinked and when he looked again it was gone. It was white and fuzzy. Could it have been a white squirrel running up the tree? He decided that his eyes were playing tricks on him, and he focused on making sure that the boy was okay. The boy assured Phil that he could walk, and they headed in the direction of the hospital.

When they arrived, Phil made the boy sit while he got a clipboard from the front desk with paperwork that needed to be filled out. He sat down beside him and started to hand the clipboard to him, saying, “Good thing you hurt your left arm.”

The boy gave him a sheepish grin and shook his head. “I’m lefthanded. Would you mind helping me?”

“Oh, darn. Lefthanded? That sucks.” Phil rested the clipboard on his own knee, looking it over as he prepared to start filling it out.

The boy gave him an odd look. “You don’t swear?”

“I do sometimes, but I reserve it for special occasions. Like stubbing a toe or raging out during video games.” He stared at the paperwork, realizing the only boxes he could fill out were ‘describe the injury’ and ‘how did it happen’.

“Interesting. I’m quite the opposite. I don’t wait for an occasion.” Before Phil could comment, the boy was handing him his wallet. “Here, most of that info is on my driver’s license.”

Phil opened the wallet and then started copying the address onto the forms. When he got to the name, he said, “Nice to meet you, Daniel. I’m Phil.”

The boy named Daniel snorted. “Nice to meet you, too. You can call me Dan.”

A while later, Dan’s name was called and Phil waited in the chair by the front desk. He was playing Angry Birds on his phone when someone said his name. “Phil? We can go now.”

He looked up to see Dan, who was now wearing a sling. “So, you were right? It was just dislocated?”

“Yeah, they popped it back into place. I only have to wear this sling for a couple days, and then I should be fine.” They started walking to the door, and Dan said, “Thanks for staying while the doctor took care of me. You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course. I would have worried about you otherwise.” They lapsed into silence as they walked, neither of them seeming sure of where they were walking. Phil didn’t want to say goodbye, but he couldn’t think of an excuse to linger longer. Phil gestured to a street that they were about to walk past. “I live in an apartment down there.”

Dan stopped on the corner. “Oh. I’m a bit farther down here,” he nodded down the street. “I live in the historic district.”

“I’ll walk you home.” Phil stared down the street again, but Dan stopped him with a light touch on his elbow.

“Don’t be silly. Go home. I’m fine and it would be dark by the time you walked yourself home.” Dan took a step away from him.

“I’m not scared of the dark,” Phil insisted.

Dan shook his head. “I don’t need you to walk me home. Bye, Phil. I hope that I see you around.”

Phil stood on the street corner for a moment, watching as Dan walked away. He knew that Dan was fine and that he would make it home okay; Phil just hadn’t wanted to leave his company. And how could he rationalize that to a person he just met without sounding crazy? Sighing, Phil turned and walked to his apartment.

The next day, Phil presented to Hannah’s house, a bit unsure if he still had a job. She asked about the boy Phil had taken to A&E, and then assured him that she was happy with how he handled the emergency, so of course he was still her dogwalker. Phil greeted Rotty, and the dog seemed to have forgiven him for shouting as he happily licked Phil’s hand in greeting.

Meanwhile, Phil hadn’t forgotten about yesterday. He constantly patted and reassured Rotty as they strolled through Regent’s Park, both to make up for yesterday and to keep the dog under control, but Rotty made no move to escape him again.

Phil was also looking around for Dan, hoping to run into him and ask him how his arm was healing, but the boy wasn’t wandering around in this area of the park. Eventually, they were passing near the bench from yesterday. Phil found himself tightening his grip on Rotty’s leash just in case, but the bench was unoccupied. But there was something under it…

Phil reached under the bench. He found the copy of Game of Thrones that he had seen on Dan’s lap yesterday. He wished he could return it, but he couldn’t recall Dan’s address from the hospital paperwork. Phil ran his fingers over the pages of the book and he felt something hard. He flipped open the book, but the hard thing he had felt was just a bookmark. He was about to close the book when he saw that the bookmark was actually a business card. He extracted it and read the card:

Howell’s Funeral Home A family business since 1960 James Howell, proprietor

Howell… that was Dan’s last name. Also, the address on the card looked familiar. So, the boy lived in his family’s funeral home. Phil tucked the book under his arm as he got up to continue the walk. Now he knew where to return the book.

The walk finished without incident. Rotty actually seemed a bit worn out after yesterday’s escapades and he behaved perfectly. Phil returned the dog to his home and then started in the direction of Dan’s. It was a bit chilly and he zipped his jacket shut, tucking the book in the space between his t-shirt and his jacket so that he could put his hands in his pockets. He found himself entering the historic district, and from what Dan said he knew that he must be getting close. The buildings around him looked like they had once been affluent homes, but most of them had been converted into businesses. Phil started looking at house numbers and signs as he walked past.

He saw a white house. It had a small yard that was big enough for only a tree and a couple bushes because most of the yard was taken up by a large front porch that was occupied by a porch swing and chairs. The sign told Phil that he had found Howell’s Funeral Home, so he started up the steps.

“Phil?”

He turned at the sound of his name. Dan was lying flat on his back in the porch swing – Phil hadn’t seen him from the street because his view had been blocked by the railing. He smiled at Dan as the boy sat up. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Dan glanced at the sling that his arm was still in, but he seemed to find his health trivial in comparison to a bigger question. “What are you doing here? How did you even know where ‘here’ was?”

“Oh!” Phil extracted the book from his jacket and handed it to Dan. “There was a business card inside with an address.”

Dan sighed and scooted over on the porch swing. “Sorry. For acting like you were a creepy stalker. You want to sit down?”

“Thanks. My legs are killing me. I just got off work. That’s where I found your book.”

Dan looked down at the book and he stroked the cover. Then he asked, “What’s your job?”

“I’m a dog walker.”

Dan smiled. “That sounds like a fun job.”

“It is.” Phil returned his smile. “Yesterday was my first day on the job actually.”

“I suppose you could say it was an eventful first day.” Dan looked like he was suppressing a laugh as he bit his bottom lip.

Phil shrugged and he said sarcastically, “Maybe for some dogwalkers, but it was a pretty average day for me.”

“Oh really?” Dan was having trouble concealing the fact that he was laughing now.

“Oh yeah, I catch people falling out of trees all the time.”

“You didn’t catch me, you let me hit the ground!” Dan’s voice was high with indignation, but his eyes sparkled with humor.

Phil shrugged, “That’s not how I remember it happening.”

“You’re mental. Then how did I injure my arm?”

“Okay, fine, I’ve never caught you or anyone else as they were falling from a tree,” Phil admitted, earning a satisfied snort from Dan. He wanted to stay longer, but as they lapsed into silence he realized he didn’t have an excuse to stay. He couldn’t even reasonably ask for Dan’s number since he saw Dan’s phone get destroyed yesterday.

“Hey, Phil…” Dan hesitated before going on. “Seriously, you might not have caught me, but I owe you.”

“No, you don’t. I didn’t do anything. It’s my fault you got hurt. I should have held onto the dog – I feel awful about that.”

Dan shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. Really. I do owe you. You helped me when I was hurt, you returned my book, and you’ve been really nice to me. I owe you a favor. Anything you want. Just let me know.”

Phil bit his lip, wanting to ask what kind of favor. He was bad at reading people and he was unsure if the words had been said with any kind of inflection. Was it a friendly favor, like calling if he ever needed help moving furniture? Or was Dan flirting? Phil hoped it was the latter. Suddenly, he knew what he wanted to ask. “Can I cash that favor in tonight? Or another night if you’re not free?”

Dan’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

The flush in Dan’s cheeks showed Phil how his words had sounded. “I was just asking you if you wanted to get something to eat! You know, so we could talk some more.”

Dan took a breath as he relaxed. “That sounds nice. Sure. Oh, you should know I’m a vegetarian.”

Phil nodded. “Okay. I know a place that does veggie wraps that are supposed to be great.”

#phandom #phanfiction #dan and phil #dan x phil #kitsune #magical realism #illusion

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dansphlevels · 7 years

Note

enemies to friends to lovers?

Jackets

Summary: Phil Lester, bad boy who wears the same leather jacket to school every day and makes a hobby out of scaring people. Dan Howell, future valedictorian who prefers a varsity jacket, and refuses to be shaken by anyone, bad boy or otherwise. And how they come together through a high school track, an English class, and a failing videography program.Themes: highschool!phan, badboy!Phil, valedictorian!Dan, enemies to friends to loversLength: 10k words

TW: language, use of homophobic slurs“Twat.” "Gaylord!“ "Asshole!” Daniel Howell walked through the hallway, ignoring the insults hurled his way. He just kept walking, his long legs making it much faster. He hiked his blue varsity jacket up so it covered the back of his neck, running a hand through his dark, curly hair.

"Hey faggot, what the fuck?“ Before Dan could turn around, he was shoved up against the lockers roughly, two fists gathering up his jacket in their hands and holding him in place. "You know no one else did the assignment! Thanks to you, I’m failing English now!"

If it was anyone else being shoved up against the locker, they’d be shaking like a Chihuahua. The boy pushing against Dan was just as tall as he, which meant he towered over just about everyone, including the teachers. Stark black hair and a huge leather jacket that he filled out easily, Phil Lester was just short of terrifying, especially when he was pushing you up against the lockers, especially when he was angry. Which he was. Dan glared up at him, his expression annoyed, but calm. "Yeah, well, if you’d done the homework then maybe you wouldn’t be failing.” "No one did the homework! Except you, you fucking twink.“ Dan didn’t waiver. "Phil, get off me.” They were caught in a staring match, two strong personalities waiting to see who would back down first. “I’m not going to apologize for doing my homework, and I’m definitely not going to apologize for reminding Ms. Sanders to collect it. I worked hard on it, and I wasn’t about to give that up just because you are a fucking idiot.” His voice was getting louder, but he quickly checked himself, lowering it once more. “Now get off of me before Dr. Young sees us, and I let her know just how great of a student you are.” He gestured to the side, and Phil checked, ready to call his bluff. But he couldn’t, because it was clear that the school principal, Dr.Young, was coming up fast. "I can’t get another detention,“ Phil muttered. His grip in Dan’s jacket loosened, and Dan leant forwards, his voice poison. "I know.” He shoved Phil back, brushing off his jacket pointedly, and sending one more glare at Phil before turning and leaving to get to his next class before the tardy bell rang. - Phil slinked along the bleachers, his shoulders weighed down by his backpack in one hand, and a heavy camera pack in the other. “Hey Peej.” Pj glanced up nervously, quickly going back to typing on his handheld laptop. “Hey Phil.” Phil slumped next to him, setting the heavy objects on the bleacher beside him. “They’re getting rid of video production.” "What?“ Pj looked up, for real this time, his eyes wide. His hair was lighter than Dan’s, and even curlier. For all Phil cared, that’s where the resemblance ended. You could always see Dan’s intelligence in his eyes, the way he questioned everything and remained unshaken. In comparison, Pj was a Chihuahua; shaky, nervous, and small. Phil tried not to laugh at the comparison. "But there’s only one video class!” Pj complained, his voice going higher. “How could they get rid of this one?” Phil shrugged. “Dunno. Something about there not being enough people who wanted to do it.” Pj’s shoulders dropped, his small form slouching forwards so he rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. “I mean… there are just five of us.” "But video production is important!“ Phil complained, looking out at the empty track below. Or, almost empty, besides a lone runner circling the track. "What the fuck, it isn’t even track season yet.” Pj looked to wearing Phil was frowning, and hummed. “Yeah, Howell runs there most days after school.” "Seriously?“ He shrugged. "Yeah, how else would he be the best in the school?” Pj looked back at his screen, only half paying attention to his words. “I hear he’s one of the best in the country. But it’s just what I’ve heard… Yeah, that sucks. I really liked video production.” But Phil wasn’t paying any attention anymore. Instead his gaze was trained on the boy circling the track, his normal jeans and varsity jacket stripped away for a simple pair of basketball shorts and a light gray muscle shirt. The same boy who was the cause for Phil’s failing grade in English. The same boy who he pushed against the lockers, who despite being made smaller by Phil’s actions, couldn’t be made weak. "Huh,“ Phil muttered. "So that’s what the varsity jacket’s from.” – "Hey twink,“ Phil called out as he strode towards Dan, who was just packing up his stuff to leave. "What was that, two laps? Damn, I should sign up for track. If that’s what the best of the best is, then I’ll just have to jog to place.” Dan gulped from his water bottle, taking his time to respond. Meanwhile, Phil admired how his sweat-stained shirt clung to the boy’s body. “It was six laps, actually,” Dan replied, still catching his breath. He managed a proud smile. “And I ran a nine minute mile, which in my book is just jogging. You couldn’t do one of my miles without going into cardiac arrest.” "I couldn’t do one of your miles without falling asleep,“ Phil corrected, though he wasn’t sure if he’d ever ran a nine-minute mile in his life. Dan walked up to him, so their chests almost touched, waiting expectantly, all traces of a smile gone. He smelt like herbs and sweat. "What?” Phil asked, defensive. Dan’s voice was low and scratchy. Phil could feel his warm, labored breath on his skin. “You’re standing in front of my backpack.” Phil quickly moved to the side, watching as Dan retrieved his full book bag and slung it over his shoulders, grunting. “Now here’s the real workout. A mile run home, with a backpack heavier than an entire Pygmy family combined.” Phil blinked. “You’re running home? Why don’t you get a car?” "Why don’t you get a life?“ Dan responded as he began to jog away, his tennis shoes pattering lightly against the pavement. — Chemistry, third block. Dan sat far to Phil’s left and a row forwards, but Phil could still see him. When the class was asked about what colleges they were applying for, Dan listed off at least five schools. Phil didn’t even have one. The teacher raised his eyebrows, saying "Wow, those are some pretty prestigious schools. But I don’t doubt that they’ll be fighting over you, Mr. Howell.” Then, he asked Dan what he was doing to prepare. "I’ve got a ton of extracurriculars lined up for this year, and then some volunteering and track, of course. And I’ve got a part time job so I can afford sending in more than one application.“ The teacher and a few students laughed. Phil just frowned, thinking. —- "Hey, I heard about video production,” Dan said quietly, looking a little uncomfortable. “That must suck.” "Oh, um, yeah.“ Phil mumbled, taken aback. "It’s not very fair that there’s room for so many drawing classes and not even one videography one. It’s the only class I actually like.” Dan gave him a small smile and a mumble of encouragement before disappearing back into the throngs of students crowding the hallway. —– First period English, and Dan came in late. "Mr. Howell, I hope you have a good reason for disrupting the class,“ Ms. Sanders, the teacher, asked pointedly. Dan’s hair was a mess, fluffy curls sticking out every which way. His eye bags were prominent. "I’m sorry, Ms. Sanders. Overslept.” Overslept? Dan looked like he’d hardly slept. And based on the whispers that seemed to float throughout the room, it seemed as though this was the only time this year Dan had been tardy. He plopped into his desk one row over and three seats in front of Phil. As the teacher handed back papers, Phil could just peer far enough to see the markers on Dan’s assignments- all nearly perfect scores. People said Dan might be the valedictorian. Phil’s grades were better than normal, an attempt to bring his grade above failing. But they were nothing in comparison. "Now, please put your homework in a pile on my desk. You should have your grades back soon. I hope you all printed it out already, remember I do not accept late work. This assignment was for a large part of your homework grade.“ Everyone started moving to the front, even Phil, who hadn’t been dumb enough to skip out on this assignment. Everyone, that is- except Dan. Dan sat at his desk, hollow eyes wide in shock. His entire face had gone so pale it was almost green. "Are you going to throw up?” Phil muttered, half sarcastic, half worried. "Maybe. I… I forgot about the assignment.“ Dan truly looked like he might faint. Phil realized that while he may not care much for grades, Dan was a completely different story. This one assignment could affect his grade for the whole class- and while 10% wasn’t a big deal for Phil, it was astronomical for Dan. Phil was a large boy, tall and broad shouldered. He was intimidating. He was scary. But he wasn’t really mean, not at his core. After all, you can wear a leather jacket and still be a decent human being, right? So when Phil turned his assignment in to the pile, he did the nice thing- and knocked over the teachers open water bottle, drenching the whole stack of papers and ruining them. "I’m sorry!” He hurried to pick up the water bottle and clear up the mess, but the damage had been done. Students scurried away from the spill, giving Phil a wide berth for all to glare at him by. Dan stood in the back of the crowd, one hand covering his mouth. After a few minutes of commotion and cleaning, the teacher announced that the papers were ruined, and Phil off claiming it was an accident. “You’ll have to print off your papers again, and turn them in next class,” she relented. Phil couldn’t see Dan’s face. But he could feel his relief. —— Phil leant against the fence, watching the track with mild interest. School had already ended, but Dan hadn’t made an appearance yet for his daily run. "I never thought I’d thank someone for being clumsy,“ a voice said behind him, causing him to jump. There stood Dan, looking slightly more awake than he had that morning, and much more put together. He wore his usual running clothes, though today he wore a black undershirt, not a grey one. Phil eyed him. "It’s not nice to scare people.” "It’s not nice to stalk people either,“ the boy said with a grin. "So whatcha doin’ out here Philly? Just like hangin’ by the track, is loitering an extracurricular now?” His voice was full of teasing, which Phil registered- though he chose to focus on something else. “Philly?” Dan nodded, clearly pleased. “I’m not an advanced student for nothing. Thought of it on my way over here. I think it suits you.” Phil was somewhere in between wanting to beat Dan up, and wanting to smile. “Huh. Why are you here again?” The grin plastered across Dan’s face was subdued so it resembled more of a gentle, appreciative smile. “Yeah. I wanted to thank you for knocking that water bottle over, it helped me out a lot.” "It was a complete accident,“ Phil defended. "I was shoved.” Dan smirked. “That’s the story you’re going with? Seriously? I mean, okay, but….” he shook his head, smirking slightly. Phil could take a nap in his dimple. “Well, I gotta go. But accident or not… thanks.” ——- A week passed without any contact between the two of them. They saw each other in class, but didn’t talk. Sometimes they caught each other’s eye in the hallway, but the sea of people quickly pulled their gaze apart. Dan continued to run after school, and Phil started finding more reasons to go to the track field, whether to talk to Pj about the ending of the video program, or to lean against the fence a few minutes, ‘waiting for the roads to clear up’, he defended. Or rather, he would have defended, if anyone had questioned him. Dan and Phil spoke again a whole eight days later, when they were walking to the track at the same time, for Phil to talk to Peej (who liked doing his homework in the bleachers), and for Dan to, well, run. Phil asked why he ran so much. "It’s a major stress reliever.“ Dan explained, adjusting his backpack straps. "I’m sane when I run.” "You’re so weird Howell,“ Phil said with absolutely no honesty in his tone. "Maybe.” He shrugged. “But at least I’m sane for twenty minutes a day.”——– Dan got an A+ on the assignment in English. Phil could feel his pride, radiating all the way back to his own desk. Throughout the entire English class, Dan kept glancing out the window; not in a bored way, but more expectant. Near the end, he physically jolted when he saw that there was a truck parked just outside the classroom, a big delivery truck. Phil didn’t get why he was so excited. The school got deliveries all the time, what was the big deal? When class ended, Phil packed his stuff and left, his backpack slumped against his back tiredly as he walked to his next class. "Phil!“ Before he could turn around, there was a hand on his arm, pulling him towards the door. Dan. Stumbling to keep up, Phil ran behind the track star as they wove through the hallway. "What- Dan, slow down!” "This is barely a speed walk, keep up!“ They exited the crowds of students and Dan pushed open a door, tugging Phil outside. His grip on Phil’s arm loosened, falling until he was holding his hand. Dan didn’t seem to notice- but Phil definitely did. Dan let go of his hand, walking around the truck, reading the labels on the packages scattered around. Phil wasn’t staring- but Dan looked really good in that varsity jacket. Like…. really good. "What are we doing out here?” Phil asked, trying to sound tough. "I just have to…. yes! Phil, look at this package.“ Phil walked over cautiously. "Is it going to explode as soon as I touch it?” "Just read it.“ "You didn’t say no.” Phil walked over anyways, reading the label. “So what? It’s…. from Canon. So?” Dan looked at him like he was the stupidest person in the world. “Phil! It’s… video equipment.” Phil felt like he’d been punched. “Wait…. what do you- like, for making videos?” Dan rolled his eyes. “No toad, it’s for drawing. Of course it’s for videos! For video production class, a necessary class in this generation of technology.” Touching the box gently, Phil’s mind raced. “You…. how?” A shrug and small smile. “I went to the schools with students considering to come here for school next year, and told the students and parents about our impressive video production program. Then I told Dr.Young about the new wave if students excited for video production class, and they reinstated it as a class.” He tapped on the box lightly. “I even got them to get some new equipment.” Phil shook his head, smiling. “I don’t even know.” "I think the words you’re looking for are 'thank you’.“ Dan was smiling so smugly, and Phil found himself staring at the other boy’s lips. Phil walking forwards. Dan walked back, until his back was pressed against the wall and Phil was leaning over him, one hand on each side of his head. "Thank you,” he whispered. Dan licked his lips, his eyes flickering down to Phil’s lips. "I want to kiss you,“ Phil whispered. And he did. Pushing Dan against the wall, he kissed him, starting out soft and getting more aggressive as the seconds passed. He pushed hard against Dan, squeezing his varsity jacket in his firsts, holding him in place. Dan’s hands fluttered around Phil, not quite sure where to land; wrapping around Phil’s neck, a hand on his shoulder, feeling his leather jacket, flat hands pressing against his chest. Dan shoved him back, his eyes wide with fear. And Phil just… stood there. Not quite sure whether to be angry, or ashamed, or just… sad. Dan looked so… worried, like he’d just made a horrible mistake. "Oh God.” "Dan,“ Phil said, the words getting stuck in his throat. "I’m…. I’m sorry.” "What?“ The boys brown eyes snapped up to meet Phil’s, still wide in shock. "No, I… shit! My next class is across the building! I’m going to be late!” Dan grabbed his backpack from where he’d dropped it on the ground, whirling around and running back into the building. Phil stood perfectly still, not quite sure… about anything. Except for one thing: that was so fucking good. ——— They didn’t talk the rest of the day.———- Phil sprinted to his car, his feet splashing through the thick puddles forming on the ground. Practically diving into the driver’s seat, he slammed the door closed. Shivering, Phil turned the car on with no intention to do anything beyond warm up. The parking lot was too crowded to move anyways. Phil almost jumped at the sound of pounding on the passenger side door. There stood Dan, soaking wet, gesturing frantically. Phil gestured for him to get in the backseat, and Dan jumped in, sliding into the back middle seat. “Thanks man, I almost drowned out there.” Phil smiled with amusement. “In the rain?” "'A little rain never hurt anyone, but a lot can kill you,’“ Dan quoted. "Why can’t I sit in the passenger seat?” "Because my backpack’s there.“ "Nice to see where I rank.” Phil rolled his eyes. “You looked like you were in a hurry.” Dan shrugged. His hair was extra curly from the rain, and his clothes and backpack were soaking wet. “Whatever. Do you need my address?” "Why would I need your address?“ "If you’re driving me home.” Phil leaned on the center consul, raising his eyebrows. “And who said I’m driving you home.” "God did. Clearly he made it rain so I wouldn’t run home, so you could drive me home.“ Dan considered. "Also, you invited me into your car.” "You’re like a vampire. You have to be invited in.“ "Yeah, but I’m not going to bite your neck.” Dan leaned forwards, whispering against Phil’s ear, “At least, I’m not planning on it.” "I’m not going to make you get out of the car, but I don’t uber people. This bus only has one stop, and that’s at my house.“ Dan shrugged, leaning against the seat. "Sure. Better than running in the rain.” ———– "Is anyone home?“ Dan asked, setting his backpack on the kitchen table comfortably. "Nope, everyone’s still at work. And my brother Martyn is in university right now.” "Huh, I didn’t know you had a brother. You’re a youngest child.“ Dan stripped off his wet varsity jacket, putting it over a chair gently. "I’m the oldest.” "Does it matter?“ "Basic psychology suggests that I’d be a high achiever, and you’d be used to getting your way. Is that accurate?” Dan leant against the kitchen table comfortably, eyes flickering around the house. Phil shrugged, ditching his damp jacket on the chair next to Dan’s. “I don’t get everything I want.” Dan raised an eyebrow. “You wanted me all alone with you in your house, and you got that.” "Says who?“ "Says me.” Dan watched Phil carefully. “And here I am. What happens next?” Phil snorted. “I make you walk home in the rain.” "Lie.“ "I tell you you’re making things up.” "Another lie. Oh, where is the truth?“ "Now I really want to make you walk home in the rain.” Dan smiled, letting the subject drop for the moment. “Do you have anything to eat?” "Nothing you’d be interested in.“ Dan bit his lip, considering. "Try me.” Phil laughed, grabbing two apples from the counter and tossing one to Dan. “I was just talking about fruit.” "That’s what I was talking about too.“ They caught each other’s eyes for a moment, exchanging a glance. "I’m all wet,” Dan muttered, his tone making it clear he was aware of the innuendo. “Can I borrow some of your clothes.” "Clothes are overrated.“ For a second, it was clear that Dan believed Phil. His expression dropped, replaced with one of nervousness. "I’m kidding. Come on, you can borrow some of my clothes.” Phil finished his apple as they walked upstairs, tossing it in his room waste basket. His room was nice, relatively speaking. All the same bland brown furniture, scattered with figurines from different animes and video games. One full wall was covered in band posters. Dan sat on Phil’s bed, looking around quietly as Phil got out some new clothes, tossing them over and grabbing some for himself. "First time you’ve had a boy in your bed?“ Dan asked awkwardly. "Nope.” Phil muttered. “I mean… I have friends over sometimes. We share a bed.” "Oooh, friends.“ Dan pulled his shirt over his head, and Phil froze, trying not to stare. "You like making assumptions, huh?” "Love it.“ Dan stood up and shimmied off his jeans carelessly. "Are you gay or bi?” "Who said I’m either?“ "You did. When you kissed me.” "I don’t remember much talking going on.“ "Actions speak louder than words.” Phil smiled, pulling a fresh shirt on so he was now wearing only dry clothes- save, or course, for his boxers. “So how should I be taking this? You, not wearing any trousers, in my bedroom? It seems like your actions are speaking pretty loudly.” "Shut up, Lester.“ ———— "Aren’t you supposed to have a ton of after school stuff or something?” "Meh. Everything was either canceled or hasn’t been done yet.“ "Homework?” "I can do it at home.“ "It’s seven o'clock.” Dan sat up fast from the bed. They’d played video games for a while, talking and bantering. When they got tired of that, they just flopped on Phil’s bed, sometimes talking. Sometimes just…. being. Dan groaned. “I should go. I’m taking four college level classes.” "Ew.“ Dan nodded. "Drive me to my house?” "Legs not working anymore, track star?“ "Nope. They’re dead.” "Wonderful.“ Phil sat up, groaning. The noise made Dan bite his lip, forcing himself to look away. "I’ll drive you, but only 'cause it’s raining, and your backpack weighs more than you do.” Dan glanced out the window, scowling. “Seriously? Is it going to flood?” "Hopefully. No school.“ "Yeah, but it’ll set the entire schedule back at least a week. And the economic downsides-” his voice trailed off, seeing Phil wasn’t paying attention. “What, too smart for you?” "You’re too smart for me.“ Phil sighed, and forced himself to his feet. "Come on, let’s go.” They went downstairs, grabbing their respective jackets as they passed through the kitchen. “Oh Phil, I didn’t know you had a friend over.” "Well now you do. I’ll be back in a few.“ Before his mom could ask any further questions, Phil was out the door, Dan right behind him. "Your mom seems nice.” Phil scowled. “Yeah.” ————- "This your place?“ "Yeah.” Dan glanced out the window, looking at the significantly smaller house than the Lester’s’, in no rush to leave. "Wait.“ Phil squeezed the steering wheel, forcing himself to collect himself. "You’ve been messing with me all night. I just need to know, did you like the kiss?” Dan was tired, it was clear. Seeing his house again clearly wasn’t something that made him happy. “Actions speak louder than words, Phil.” Collecting himself, Dan grabbed one of the jackets from the back seat and his backpack from the floor of the car, getting out into the thundering rain. "Yeah, but you pushed me away!“ Phil called out, a ring of thunder shaking the Earth. ”After I kissed back!“ The car door was slammed, and the figure disappeared, running through the sheets of water draining from the sky. Phil left after Dan got inside, shivering and cold. ————— Phil slept well that night. Dan, with four college level classes worth of homework, did not. "Hey faggot!” Dan turned around, scowling at Phil. “Nice slur, asshole. What do you want?” Phil raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, taking his time to play with Dan. “What? 'Asshole?’ Tsk tsk, I hope the college recruiters don’t hear you!” "You know nothing about college recruiters,“ Dan mumbled, scraping a hand through his hair in annoyance. His hair was so curly it was poufy- a sure sign of an all-nighter. Lowering his voice, Dan allowed himself to be vulnerable, if only for a second. "What do you want?” "You. Under the bleachers, during third block.“ "Hard pass,” Dan snapped, turning and walking away. "Hey twink, I wasn’t done talking to you!“ Phil ran to catch up, annoyed at the unexpectant exercise. "Chill, I was just joking. Hey Dan… Dan, stop, I’m trying to talk to you!” Phil grabbed his backpack, yanking him back. Dan whirled around. “What.” He spat the word, like it tasted bitter in his mouth. "You took my jacket home with you last night. I have your varsity jacket in my bag, let me just-“ "Not here,” Dan pleaded, looking around uncomfortably. “Not with people watching.” Phil raised an eyebrow, but slung his bag back on his back, the jacket remaining inside. “What? Don’t want to let people know you’re….” he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper playfully. “A fag?” The backpack loosely hanging on Phil’s shoulder thumped on the ground, thundering as loud as the previous night’s rain. Dan slammed Phil against the locker, one elbow against his throat. Dan’s eyes were glossy, and he snarled, “I’m not a fucking fag, Phil. I’m not a fucking twink. And I’m not any of the other stupid-fucking-slurs you can come up with. So shut the fuck up.” Dan held him there for a moment, staring at him with pure hatred in his eyes. Then he pushed Phil away, storming down the hall. Dan was tardy to class that day. —————- Dan ran around the track over and over, only stopping for water. He reached his daily goal of six laps and kept going, counting mentally each time he passed the starting line. Seven….. eight…. nine…. After nine, he stopped for water once more. Lying next to his water bottle on the cold metal bench, was none other than his jacket. Phil was nowhere to be seen. Dan got a drink, and kept running.—————– Dan and Phil didn’t talk again for a week, at least. Maybe it was more. Either way, it didn’t matter. Dan was doing more laps on the track each day, and Phil was getting better grades than ever, D’s turning to C’s, and the occasional B. There were college applications to fill out. Homework to do. Running. Lots of running. Every day…. running. Phil stayed after some days, doing extra work with the video production class. He was made into one of the leaders, learning how to use the new equipment, preparing for next year’s influx of freshmen excited about film. Dan kept getting A’s. No surprise there. Dan still had Phil’s leather jacket. Phil didn’t know how to ask for it back. But as much as they delighted in ignoring each other, eventually it was time to at least be civil. They could’ve gone longer, but apparently God was getting fed up with them, and decided some divine intervention was needed- in the form of rain. Phil stood under a tree near where his car was parked, waiting. As soon as he caught the other boy’s eye, he nodded towards his car, walking over and getting in, following a few seconds later by Dan himself. "Hey.“ "Hey.” They both stared out the windshield at the rain streaming down, forming little puddles on top of the unmoving wipers. Phil sighed, reaching over and turning the car on, knocking the switch to turn the wipers on medium. "Video production going good?“ Dan asked weakly. He held his backpack in his lap, forming a sort of wall. "Yeah.” "Cool.“ The car remained unmoving. "And… your, uh, school stuff? College level classes?” "It’s… good. Lots of homework.“ "Yeah. That’s… yeah.” "Yeah.“ Dan huffed. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shoved you earlier.” "Shoved me?“ "I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Dan corrected. “I’d barely slept that night and I was upset by your use of derogative terms towards me. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you physically.” Phil hummed, tapping on the steering wheel and watching cars pass by, still not even bothering to start the car. “Hmm. I actually don’t just remember you pushing me. I’m pretty sure you actually pushing me against the lockers, and then told me to shut the fuck up.” "God, you are so-“ "Not a good friend?” Phil supplied, anger clear in his voice. “Funny, I was just about to say the same about you.” There was a moment of silence. The two boys didn’t look at each other, just staring straight forwards at the cars driving past them. The rain wasn’t letting up. "Since when have you ever been friends,“ Dan asked, and it was a fair question. They used to hate each other, to some degree at least. "Don’t look at me. You’re the one who saved the videography program.” "Yeah, after you destroyed those papers.�� Dan was silent, thinking. "Why’d you do that anyways?” Phil huffed. “You act like I’m inherently a bad person.” "Well thanks, but I don’t need your charity.“ "Ha!” Finally, Phil turned to Dan, having finally found the argument he was looking for. “That’s BS. You needed me to ruin those tests if you ever had a shot at being valedictorian. And you needed me to drive you home that day it rained, and you needed me to give you back your jacket because you took the wrong one, and you needed me not to beat the shit out of you when you screamed in my face in the hallway! Face it Dan, if anyone else were to do that, you think I would’ve just let them leave like that? But I didn’t beat you up, because-” his voice caught. "Because?“ Dan’s voice was soft, not competitive like it usually was. "Because if people saw that you got into a fight on school grounds, you’d be in serious trouble,” Phil finished, causing Dan’s heart to drop. "Oh.“ Phil paused for a moment. "But thanks for… apologizing and stuff.” The lump in Dan’s throats only grew. “Um… yeah. No problem.” An uncomfortable silence consumed the car. The parking lot had cleared out enough, so Phil started the engine and shifted the car into drive, pulling out of the parking spot. They didn’t speak again until they pulled up in the driveway of Phil’s house, and Phil parked the car. Dan looked out the window, and for the first time realized they weren’t in front of his house. “Um, Phil?” "It’s a one stop bus, remember? We’re here. Everybody off.“ —————— "Does this count as a hostage negotiation? Kidnapping, perhaps?” Phil considered, his attention half preoccupied with the video game he was playing- a racing game of some kind, not that Dan cared. By picking up the second controller, he was giving in- something he refused to do. "Not a hostage negation,“ Phil decided, eyes trained on the screen. "We’re not doing any negotiating. And it’s not kidnapping, you willing got in my car.” "If an uber driver says 'get in, I’ll take you home’ and he brings you to the middle of a corn field to murder you, then is it really kidnapping? I mean, you did get in the car with him, willingly.“ "Not paying attention,” Phil interjected. “Too busy racing. Come in, just pick up the remote. It’s no fun playing on my own.” "Sentences by Phil,“ Dan muttered. "Is everything you say unintentionally perverted?” "Not all of them are unintentional,“ Phil smirked, jerking the game controller to the side abruptly. "I think that genius brain of yours is just filthy.” Dan plopped down on Phil’s bed, groaning. Phil tried not to be /too/ distracted by the noise. “Leave my genius brain out of this.” The round ended, and Phil set down his controller, sighing and pushing Dan’s unused one to the side. “You’re so lame. Why do you even get scholarships?” "Cause I’m smart, and charming. Just not for you.“ "I get the boring Dan. Why does God hate me?” "Shut up,“ Dan laughing, shoving Phil gently. He stood, stretching out. "I need to go soon. If I actually want to use those scholarships, I need to do my homework.” Phil stood abruptly, surprising Dan. “Wait. Come on, we have to do something first.” Dan looked hesitant, though he still managed a smile. “Like what?” Phil leant up against the wall, giving Dan a few feet of space. “That friends thing. How stuck are we with that?” Dan hummed, considering it. “We’re not.” "We’re not friends, or we’re not stuck with it?“ Dan grinned. "Yes.” Inhaling, Phil took a few slow steps forwards, the other boy’s eyes trained on him all the while. “This is me giving you a chance to run away.” "Noted,“ Dan joked lightly, though he stayed in place. "Last warning.” "Got it.“ Phil stepped closer to Dan, pulling him away from the door and towards the wall, putting one hand on each side of his head. "I’m going to kiss you now.” Dan caught his breath, eyes half closed and lips just parted and Phil leant closer slowly. “N-nice question there Phil. Good w-way to ask for my consent, y-you dog.” "I’m going to kiss you now,“ Phil repeated. "So if you want me to not, now’s a good time to tell me.” Dan licked his lips, stuttering. “Um, y-yeah, I got the message. Nice Phil, real nice, just backing me into a corner like this-” Phil’s lips pressed against Dan’s slowly, effectively shutting him up. And for a few seconds they both held perfectly still, lips pressed together, just enjoying the sensation. Just feeling. Then Phil’s hand drifted to Dan’s waist, touching gently. And for a bad boy who wore leather jackets and cussed and got bad grades and probably kicked bunnies for fun, his touch was so fucking gentle, oh God. They started moving slowly, Dan making the first move. Slow, soft kisses turned to sloppy open mouthed ones, hands wandering but never anywhere too dangerous. It was like their first kiss in many ways; how Phil kept Dan pushed against the wall like he might run off, how Dan didn’t know where to put his hands so they traveled, up and down Phil’s torso and pressing against his chest. But this time, they didn’t push him back; this time, they held tightly onto Phil’s jacket, gripping it in handfuls. They had no reason to stop kissing. So they didn’t. Time stood still as the two boys melted into the kiss. As soon as it got too heated, they slowed down, returning to the less aggressive ones, softly easing back into a rhythm. Dan, despite all of his academic prowess, got impatient easily. His hands wandered lower, tugging at Phil’s shirt needily, pinching the edge of the boy’s jeans. Phil carefully pulled his hands back up to his shoulders, but Dan whined, rocking his entire body against Phil’s. Dan pushed against him, pushing Phil to step backwards as their lips never lost contact. He shoved him onto the bed, quickly climbing on top. Phil was pressed into his sheets, the smaller boy on top of him as they kept kissing, kissing, endlessly. Phil rolled them over, gripping Dan’s uncertain hands and holding them above the boy’s head. And they kept going, only stopping when the first moan was let out. Was it Dan? Or did the low groan of pleasure escape from Phil’s mouth? Neither was quite sure, but Phil was the one to pull back, his hands still gripping Dan’s wrists softly. “We have to stop.” "Why?“ Dan whined, impatient. They were both breathing deeply, all the many minutes of excursion having stolen away their breath. "Because,” Phil said, the words foreign in his mouth. He gasped for breathe, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Just… because.” ——————– "See you later,“ Dan waved slightly. "Friends?” Phil shook his head. “We’re not friends.” "Oh yeah? What are we then?“ "What are we?” Phil repeated with a sly smile. “See ya.” "Yeah, whatever. See ya.“——————- "Anyone join any clubs yet?” At least two thirds of the chemistry class raised their hands. Among them were the tall boy with curly hair, and the taller boy with straight black hair. His hair may have been the straightest thing about him. "Anyone doing…. student council?“ Three hands stayed up. Among them was Dan’s. "Anyone doing…. any sports? Track? Basketball?” Dan’s hand remained up. "Honors society? EIA? National Math Society?“ His hand didn’t waiver. "Wow, Daniel, you certainly have a busy schedule. How do you have time for friends?” Dan laughed. “I don’t.” ——————– "It’s raining again. My place?“ Dan shook his head. "I’ve got clubs and stuff. I’ll be here until five, maybe it’ll clear up by then.” Phil’s heart sunk. “Oh. You free this weekend?” Another no. “The math team is going to a competition. It’s overnight.” Phil sighed. “You really are busy, huh?” "Yeah.“ Dan looked guilty. "Sorry. But thanks for the offer.”——————- They didn’t kiss for two weeks. Sometimes, they talked in the halls, or before class. Nothing too deep. Phil like talking to Dan. He was so intelligent, Phil just wanted to soak up his words and keep them, hold them tight to be used on the next written exam. "Daniel Howell!“ Phil called out in an announcer’s voice, jogging towards the track, the camera held tightly in his hands. "True or false, you run for track?” Dan smiled widely, despite the sweat dripping down his forehead. “That’s true.” "True or false, you’re going to beat the school record for fastest mile?“ Phil ran along beside Dan, having to run to keep up with Dan’s fast jog. "True! I can feel it, it’s happening this year!” "Well it better! Because this is your last chance before graduation! Do you feel the pressure?“ "I feel the pressure!” Dan laughed, his smile full of light. His entire body radiated energy, and happiness. "This clip is going to air on the first edition of our school’s new monthly TV show,“ Phil panted, the heavy camera slowing him down. "What do you have to say to our viewers?” "Eat my dust!“ ”Daaaaan.“ He laughed brightly. "No, work hard to achieve your dreams. Now Phil, I’m going to pass out if I keep running and talking, so can I get back to my workout?” "Well there you have it audience! Dan Howell, future Olympian!“ Phil came to a stop, filming Dan a little longer as he sped off, transitioning into a sprint.—————— "Howell!” Dan jumped. “Jeez, Phil. What do you want?” "You’re schedule,“ Phil announced, not even hesitating. "We’re having a sleepover.” "Do I have any say in this?“ Phil held out his open palm. "Phone. And no, you have zero say.” Dan handed Phil however hesitantly, watching as he typed in his number. “About time you get my number. Text me when.” He turned, and strode away. "Don’t think this means we’re friends!“ Dan called back. "Never,” Phil laughed.—————– Dan laughed loudly, the joyous noise filling the dark car with light. “Oh my gosh Phil, who even are you?” "It wasn’t my fault!“ Phil defended. "The squirrel just came out of nowhere!” "Only you, only you.“ "Hey, you’re the one who fell up an escalator,” Phil defended, aggressively pointing a French fry his way. “How do you even screw up that badly?” "I dunno,“ Dan took a bite out of his burger, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I tried taking the steps two at a time. I guess the power just got to my head.” Phil wiped his hands on a wad of already filthy napkins, making sure there was no ketchup left over when he reached for Dan’s arm. “Come on, lemme see.” Dan held up his elbow proudly, watching as Phil inspected it, running his thumb over the scarred skin lightly. “See? Now I’ve got escalator teeth marks permanently etched into my skin!” "Etched?“ Phil raised his eyebrows, smiling dumbly. "Seriously? Oh my God, you’re so fucking posh.” "I told you, I was obsessed with Winnie the Pooh! And at least I’m not as Northern as you are, innet?“ Phil shoved him lightly. "Screw off.” Dan grinned. “Come here.” Phil leaned in, though he wasn’t quite sure why. “What?” "I wanna… wanna try something.“ Dan gripped Phil’s jawline sloppily, pulling him close to kiss sloppily. They kissed for a few seconds before Dan shrieked and yanked backwards, spluttering. "Oh God, that’s disgusting! You had pickles in your burger, didn’t you?” Phil shrugged, smiling proudly. “No regrets.” "I’m not kissing you again until you brush your teeth,“ Dan decided. "And rinse with mouthwash. And floss.” "Who said we’re going to kiss again?“ The taller boy wondered aloud. "Maybe I won’t brush my teeth ever again, so that I can make sure I don’t get any more of your awkward groping.” "If you don’t brush your teeth ever again, me not wanted to kiss you will be the least of your issues. You won’t get anyone to kiss you- ever.“ Phil looked at Dan maniacally. Carefully setting his take out bag in the backseat, he crawled over, pushing Dan against the car door and holding him in place. Dan whined, pushing against him without force. Phil reached over and locked his hand around Dan’s chin as the smaller boy wriggled under his grip. "No, Phil!” He laughed, “Don’t you dare!” Phil stopped before their lips touched, his head already starting to tilt. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Dan pouted, his chin still being held firmly in Phil’s hand. “I was just playing the game. You don’t have to ask every time.” He lowered his voice, shyer. “I like when you are a little rougher. I’ll let you know if you need to actually stop.” "Safeword?“ Phil suggested. "Red?” "This isn’t a fanfic, Dan.“ "Yeah, but it’s easy to remember and it gets the point across.” He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Color?” "Grassy green. Kiss me already, you’re crushing me.“ And they kissed. And Dan only was a little bit annoyed at the lingering taste of pickles on Phil’s lips.—————- "Deepest fear?” "Failure. You?“ "You’re not a failure,” Phil muttered, fingers pinching the blanket over them absently. “And you’ll never be one.” "Hey, you said deepest darkest.“ Dan’s eyes were bright, despite the room being do dark. "And that’s the darkest,” he whispered. “You?” Phil exhaled slowly, racking his mind. “I dunno. Don’t think about it much.” "What drives you?“ Dan asked, softly. He was lying on his side, head rested on his hands delicately. "You’ve been in my car Dan.” "Stop evading my question.“ Phil exhaled again, closing his eyes. He lay on his back, one hand underneath his neck and the other draped across his chest limply. "I dunno. I just kind of… wake up, and keep going.” "Sounds sad. You need something new and exciting in your life.“ Phil snorted. "Like what? Maybe I’m just lonely. What do you think, should I try to get someone in my bed? A track star, perhaps?” "Doesn’t count,“ Dan muttered. "We’re still wearing clothes, so I’m not 'in your bed’ in that usage. Try again.” "That can be changed,“ Phil whispered, rolling over Dooley do he and Dan were face to face. His pale fingers stroked the dark hair away from Dan’s eyes almost absently. "Parents’ room is downstairs. They’ll never know.” "I’m not sleeping with you,“ Dan decided, rolling onto his back. "Why not?” "Cause you’ll give me crabs. I don’t know Phil, cause we’re friends? Wasn’t that your excuse last night?“ "We’re not friends,” Phil chuckled darkly. "Oh yeah?“ Dan watched him, staring at Phil intently. As if he could read Phil’s mind by watching his hands fiddle about, read his thoughts by assessing his features. "Then what are we?” "Something dangerous,“ Phil answered quietly. "And something I don’t want to mess with. Not quite yet.” Dan rolled closer to Phil under the covers, their chests facing each other. They were touching, but only barely. Not quite cuddling. Not yet. "When can we mess with it?“ "I don’t know. Sometime.” Dan waited, listening to Phil’s steady breathing for a few moments. “Okay. I can do that.” He reached out his hand under the covers slowly, searching until he found Phil’s. They slowly intertwined. Neither boy looked at each other. But both blushed, doing their best not to let on how simple hand holding made them so unsure. Because making out could be written off as lust. But holding hands meant there was something else. Something real.————— They didn’t kiss at school. They didn’t kiss in front of people. Actually, for the next few days, they didn’t kiss at all. But they wanted to. It was difficult to see each other what with Dan’s busy schedule. Phil had things to do too, with other friends, with videoing, and with his recent attempt to do slightly better in school. He couldn’t date someone as smart as Dan and fail school at the same time, that would just be embarrassing. And Phil wanted to date Dan, he did. So he had to get his grades up. "It looks like we have perfect attendance today,“ Ms. Sanders noted as she walked over to her desk. "Everyone in row one, two, three…. oh, I was wrong. It seems Dan isn’t here today.” Phil quickly glanced over. Sure enough, Dan was nowhere to be found. "Is he sick?“ The class was filled with a low murmuring, everyone guessing why the smartest student in their class- and one of the only people in the school who cared about the perfect attendance award- was gone. "I think he got hurt,” someone said. “I heard he hurt his leg in gym. They had to drive him to the hospital.” "Oh, that’s horrible,“ the teacher commented blandly. "Well, I hope he gets better soon. Now class, if you’d open up your books to page 127…” "Ms. Sanders?“ Phil asked, not bothering to raise his hand. "Can I go to the bathroom?” "I certainly hope so.“ She glanced at the clock. "But class just started, you should have-” "Thanks!“ Phil interrupted, scooping up his backpack and practically running out the door. "Don’t forget the hall pass!” Phil grabbed the pass, hurrying out the door. He ditched the pass against the wall, and walked right past the bathroom and out the school doors.————– The first thing Dan said when Phil entered his curtained off corner of the ER was “You’re supposed to be in school.” "Yeah, so are you.“ Phil walked over with his hands in his pockets, observing the boot wrapped around Dan’s ankle. "Nice work there Dan. You really screwed yourself over.” Dan rolled his eyes. “What can I say? I go all or nothing. This isn’t that bad though, doctors say I can walk normally in about two weeks. Can’t run for a month, minimum.” He looked so sad and downtrodden that Phil tried for an encouraging smile. “Hey, if you need pity, I can give you pity. Just let me know.” Two doe eyes looked up at Phil hopefully. “I need pity.” "You poor baby,“ Phil intoned, attempting at being helpful. "That’s horrible. You didn’t deserve it.” "I hate your pity.“ They stayed in silence then, just allowing themselves to process everything. "I’m never going to get a track scholarship, am I.” "Probably not. And you won’t be getting a perfect attendance award either.“ Dan sent daggers in Phil’s direction, and he held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I thought we were still doing the pity party thing.” Dan sighed. “Go back to school. I’ll text you my schedule, and you can pick up my homework and drop it off at my house.” "And why would I do that?“ "Because I’ll have crutches soon,” Dan threatened, “And I’m not afraid to use them.” "I could take you,“ Phil retaliated without any merit behind the words. "Any day of the year. Even when you’re not injured.” "Yeah, whatever.“ Dan reached over and grabbed Phil’s hand, pulling him over until he could grab his collar, pulling him down and kiss the boy, however briefly. "My mom will be here soon. You’d better get out of here before then.” Phil didn’t question it. Instead, he brushed some of Dan’s fringe aside, messing it up a bit to annoy him, and then stood. “Send me your class list. See you later.” "You’d better. Otherwise I’ll crawl over to your house with my three good limbs and fuck you up.“ ————- Dan was laying on his bed when Phil came in, homework in tow. It was the first time Phil had ever been inside Dan’s house. It was even smaller than it appeared from outside. Dan lay on his mattress with a mass of pillows keeping him sitting upright, with his foot propped up slightly, a bag of ice sitting lopsidedly on top of it. "Are you trying to freeze your foot off?” "Yes. Papers?“ Phil set them on the bed next to Dan, still looking around. "Nice place.” "Don’t lie Phil. Anyways, thanks for bringing them. I’ll see you.“ "Yeah, okay.” Phil leant down to kiss him, causing Dan to hiss. "Not here. Not with mom right over there.“ Phil swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah, okay. Yeah. Um…. I’ll see you at school.” "See you at school.“———— From: Dan Have you finished the assignment yet? From: Phil Nah, I’m on twitter From: Dan Nm then From: Phil what do you want? From: Dan You. Under the bleachers Jksuch joke From: Phil omg From: Dan Omg? Srly? Are you 5? From: Phil Omg is cool slang! From: Dan Ok grandpa I’m bored From: Phil that’s why your texting me? From: Dan HW is dragging me down Wanna do something stupid From: Phil So that’s why you’re texting me From: Dan You said it, not me From: Phil What do you want to do? From: Dan There’s the teacher’s bathroom around the corner All the teachers in this wing have classes rn From: Phil Meet you there? From: Dan Wait a few minutes. I’ll go first. "Yes Dan?” "May I use the restroom?“ "You may.” Dan shifted in his seat, standing on one foot and reaching for his crutches on the floor. He clomped out of the room agonizingly slowly. You could hear the crutches clump against the floor with each step, even as he walked down the hallway. Phil waited. From: Dan Go "Can I go to the bathroom?“ The teacher sighed. "You may, yes.” ———– "Hey Phil?“ Dan muttered in between kisses. "Yeah?” "I really like kissing you.“ ”Good.“ ———- That Friday, there was a school wide assembly. Mostly to let the students know about track signups starting soon, and how there was a new dress code concerning hats. And, of course, the premier of the new videography program with the first episode of the monthly news. It was pretty decent for a first episode. There were a few more students than in the old program, so there was a mesh of different 'news broadcasters’ and announcing styles. The best segment by far was Phil’s weather report, where he suggested that in the next month it would be warm and sunny with a small blizzard. Next month, it’d definitely have to be more accurate, but for now the joke made everyone laugh. The audience quieted down when the camera began getting shaky, and the track came into view. Running on the track was a tall boy with dark, curly hair, already shiny with sweat. "True or false, you’re going to beat the school record for fastest mile?” Phil’s voice echoed through the room. Dan shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The boot on his leg felt twenty pounds heavier. "True! I can feel it, it’s happening this year!“ Dan’s voice was so full of hope in the clip, mixed with the panting and excursion from running. The real Dan, the one sitting in the audience with his crutches by his side, could feel all the eyes in him. "Well it better! Because this is your last chance before graduation! Do you feel the pressure?” "I feel the pressure!“ Dan laughed, his smile full of light. His entire body radiated energy, and happiness. "This clip is going to air on the first edition of our school’s new monthly TV show,” Phil panted, the heavy camera slowing him down. “What do you have to say to our viewers?” "Eat my dust!“ ”Daaaaan.“ He laughed brightly. "No, work hard to achieve your dreams. Now Phil, I’m going to pass out if I keep running and talking, so can I get back to my workout?” "Well there you have it audience! Dan Howell, future Olympian!“ Phil came to a stop, filming Dan a little longer as he sped off, transitioning into a sprint. The show transitioned into another segment, something about upcoming dissections. But the damage was done. Dan stood up shakily, getting his crutches and slowly making his way to the door. No one stopped him, not even the teachers.——— From: Phil Im sorry From: Dan You didn’t do anything wrong From: Phil I’m still sorry Where r u? From: Dan Library studying From: Phil Want company From: Dan No——– Dan had more free time now. He was able to do some of his homework in gym class. He didn’t stay after school anymore for running, and Phil was driving him home every day so he didn’t have to hobble the whole way there on his crutches. ——- "Mum, calm down,” Phil complained. “It’s only Martyn.” "Only my baby boy!“ His mum replied, wringing her hands in a dish towel. "Oh, I miss him so much! I hope he likes the food!” "How could he not? He’s been eating university food for the past few months.“ Mother Lester sent him a stern look. "I mean, how could he not like the food? You’re a great cook!” She nodded, pleased. “Better. Now, go change. You look like a deviant.” "Muuuummmm…“ "No buts! Change.” Phil slouched up the stairs to his room, grabbing out some different clothes. He glanced in the mirror. He was hardly deviant- black skinny jeans and a leather jacket just were what looked good on him. It didn’t matter, he was fighting a losing battle. His mum had been extra harsh on his appearance ever since he’d dyed his hair black for the first time- nearly 2 years ago. His mum was wearing more formal clothes, so Phil decided he should do the same. He compromised with a pair of good looking jeans and a button up dark gray shirt- though he didn’t button the top buttons. "Much better,“ his mum complimented when he came downstairs. "Dinner’s just about ready. Your father should be home with Martyn soon.” —— From: Phil My brother Martyn is coming home tonight from uni Moms making her traditional dinner of salmon and mash and I can’t wait From: Dan Lol nice My mom made her traditional dinner tonight too It’s called 'there’s pizza in the freezer, we’ll be home late’ "Oh, are you sure?“ Phil could hear his mother’s voice from the other room. "Well, I want you to stay safe. Okay, take care. Love you.” From: Phil Oh no She was just talking on the phone with someone I don’t know if the miracle child is coming home tonight "Phil?“ "Yeah mum?” Phil did his best to remain plain faced as his mum explained that traffic was miserable, and Martyn and their dad had decided to just stay at a motel overnight. "That sucks,“ Phil said, trying to sound genuine. "Oh well.” His mum still looked concerned. “And I made all that salmon. And the house us so clean…” her eyes trailed to Phil’s lap, where he was still typing on his phone. “Who are you texting?” "Just Dan.“ Phil didn’t bother looking up. "Why?” "Do you… do you think Dan has dinner plans tonight?“—– Dan lowered himself into the car, carefully bringing his crutches in after him. "Hey Phil, how’re- oh shit. You look…” "Thanks,“ Phil said sarcastically. "Mum made me wear it.” He pulled into the street, fidgeting with his gray button up briefly before putting both hands on the wheel once more. "I feel underdressed,“ Dan muttered, buckling in. "Should I change?” "Too late. I’m already on the road.“ —- "Dan, it’s nice to meet you!” Phil’s mum wrapped her arms around the boy enthusiastically, almost knocking him off his crutches. “Phil didn’t tell me you were on crutches!” "You didn’t ask,“ Phil retorted blandly, tossing his keys on the counter. "Can we eat now?” But his mum was on a roll. “Phil tells me so little these days. But you look like a nice boy. I can always tell, you know, as soon as I see someone-” "Mum!“ Phil interrupted. "Dinner!” She sighed, turning towards her son. “I’m just talking to Dan! Why don’t you be a good host and show Dan around, while I put the food out?” "Actually,“ Dan interjected, "I’d prefer if we could just sit down. The ankle.” He gestured at his leg awkwardly. “And I’ve already seen your house, actually. When I’ve hung out with Phil. It’s lovely, really.” Mrs. Lester beamed. “You’re so sweet. Okay, I’ll get the food.” She rushed off to the kitchen to get the food. "Suck up,“ Phil whispered. "Yeah, well you don’t make it on to the honor roll by being an ass.” Dan whispered back. “Not that you’d know.” "Your literally a cripple, stop making me want to fight you.“ "I could take you.” Phil shoved Dan lightly. He stumbled, almost tripping over his crutch. Dan huffed. “Rude.” They went over to the dinner table, sitting down. It was set nicely, and the house was cleaner than normal- all in preparation for Martyn’s arrival. “Your mum must be pretty disappointed he couldn’t come,” Dan said, without context. "She was. You know he’s the favorite.“ "I know that’s why you lash out,” Dan mumbled, not looking at Phil. “Why you do the whole 'I don’t care’ act. It’s because you don’t think you can live up to the expectations.” "It’s not an act.“ "Really? So now that you’re 'friends’ with me, all of a sudden you care about grades?” He made air quotes at the word 'friends’. "Why would you think that?“ "The English homework.” "What about it?“ ”You did it.“ "Dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Lester announced cheerily. “I hope you like fish, Dan!” Dan put on a big, happy, parent-pleasing smile. “I love it.”— "I do student council, EIA, track, math society…“ Dan ticked off the list, going through all his different extracurriculars and clubs. "And four college level classes. But those are during school, so they hardly count.” Mrs. Lester smiled in disbelief. “Wow, that’s…. certainly a lot.” "Dan’s an honors student,“ Phil added, spearing a piece of salmon with his fork. "People are saying he’ll be valedictorian this year.” "Wow, that’s impressive.“ "And completely unnecessary,” Dan argued. “Superlatives like valedictorian were formed just for the sake of bragging rights. They’re completely unnecessary, and do little in the way of anything besides giving an individual an inflated sense of self.” Mrs. Lester nodded along, clearly impressed at his humility. From: Phil so you don’t care if you don’t get it? From: Dan Please. You’d have to rip that title out of my cold, dead hands. "You’re so humble,“ Mrs. Lester complimented. "And smart. Phil, you should take notes.” She turned to Dan, holding a hand up as if that would keep Phil from hearing her words. “Phil really is smart, but he just doesn’t try. I worry for him.” Dan played along, shielding his words from Phil with a hand. “I don’t think you have to worry. Phil actually gets pretty good grades.” From: Phil Liar "And I think if he tried, he could get into film school.“ Dan added. Phil’s eyes widened. "Phil!” His mother announced in shock. “Film school?” "It was just an idea,“ Phil tried to defend. "I wouldn’t actually-” "You need to get a degree in business,“ she reprimanded. "Like your father. And like Martyn.” "Mum, I-“ "Listen to me, because this is important! Business school is the only way to make money in this economy, and you need to-” From: Dan Sorry– "Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to… set her off like that. I just thought she knew.“ Phil sighed, unbuttoning his shirt. "It’s fine. She’s just…. passionate.” Dan nodded, sitting on Phil’s bed. “So. Business school?” He snorted. “Nope, not on my radar. I want to go to film school, and she’ll just have to accept that.” He smiled smalley. “This way, she can start getting accustomed to the idea.” Dan nodded again, pulling his own shirt off and tossing it to the side carelessly. “What’ll you do with it? Make movies or something?” Phil shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always kinda wanted to be a weather man, but…” "'Warm and sunny with a small blizzard’“ Dan quoted from the school’s monthly news. "You had the charisma, that’s for sure. Maybe not the math…” "You don’t know,“ Phil chided playfully. "Maybe we’ll wake up tomorrow to two feet of snow!” "You’re crazy,“ Dan laughed playfully, pulling down his pants, being careful with the boot. "Maybe.” Phil looked out the window at the night sky, as if looking for signs of snow. “I heard of this thing. It’s called 'video blogging’.” Dan tossed his pants to the side, climbing into Phil’s bed familiarly. “Yeah? Like, blogging about your life… but as a video?” Phil nodded. “I don’t know if I could ever make money from it, but it’d be cool to try. What do you think? Would you try?” He crawled in bed next to Dan, pulling up the covers around his midsection. Dan just laughed. “Nah, film isn’t for me. I’m going to study law. That’s where my future is.” Phil nodded in acceptance. “I guess. But who knows? Maybe YouTube will blow up one day.” Dan smiled. “And maybe tomorrow there will be a blizzard. I guess it’s possible.” With that, they curled up together, the blankets and their shared body heat keeping them warm. Dan reached out slowly, and clasped Phil’s hand. "I want this,“ he whispered. "Yeah?” "Yeah.“ - Neither had the foresight to set an alarm. But it didn’t matter. Because when they woke up, they were greeted with the news that school was closed- due to the two feet of snow that had fallen as they slept.

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amplesalty · 5 years

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Day 1 - When a Stranger Calls (1979)

Stranger danger...

As signposted on Day 1 of the Christmas movie extravaganza of 2018, it’s one of the other big ‘weird phone calls, killer is in the house’ movies. We’ll roll it out today just for a nice little bit of symmetry. Did you know Black Christmas was getting another remake? I didn’t until just now. It feels like every time I pick a movie on here they’re getting remakes or sequels coming out shortly. With the rate of those that come out though, maybe this is a ‘broken clock is right twice a day’ kinda thing. It does have that 80’s dreamboat Cary Elwes in it though.

Unfortunately, bit of a dull one to start with. Well, the actual start of the movie is actually pretty good and seems to be widely liked but the rest, not so much. I’d say it’s a bit of an ‘Up’ situation but that would be doing Up a disservice. You get the idea though, people say that you could just take the start of Up, make it its own short film and it’d be a masterpiece. Apparently that’s what this was, a 1977 short film called The Sitter that was expanded out to be a feature length film.

Drawing the obvious comparisons between this and Black Christmas, this I’d say is more tense. I guess you could put that down to it just being the one girl, her being in unfamiliar surroundings since she’s babysitting and having that role of responsibility as well. There’s something more chilling as well with it being a British voice on the other end of the phone (always with the English baddies, Hollywood) and rather simple lines of ‘Have you checked the children?’ rather than all the weird sex noises and vulgarities. I mean, he does lower the tone towards the end by revealing he wants the girl’s blood all over him but he was keeping it in check for a while.

They really rattle through this movie as well at the start, just as soon as the opening credits are done she’s being ushered into the house and left by the parents. 5 minutes in, the phone calls start and by 20 minutes the girl is already being told to GET OUTTA THE HOUSE! Where do we go from here?

Nowhere fun, is the answer to that. The killer had already butchered the two children in the house by the time he started calling and was later committed to an asylum but escapes seven years later. This leads to the father hiring one of the attending detectives, now just a lone PI, to track the guy down.

This leads to a strange turn of events where it’s almost like the hunter has become the hunted, the killer now tracked through the seedier parts of town by the PI who isn’t in this just to bring him back to the asylum, he’s out to enact his own form of justice. Someone kinda beats him to it though when he ends up hassling a lady in a bar, leading to some of the worst worked punches I’ve ever seen in a movie. Bloody white knights.

I don’t know if they were intending to try and ilicit some sympathy for the killer throughout this. There’s this weird introspective moment in this homeless shelter where the killer is looking at himself in a mirror and has these flashbacks of himself at the scene of the killings and being locked up in a padded room before breaking down in a flood of tears. Doesn’t he have a look of Phil Collins here? Now that’s a film he should have done during his acting days.I don’t know if Phil has ever been able to rock a fringe like that though, seems to have had a massive widows peak going on his entire life that guy.

Actor Tony Beckley does pull of that whole loner, creeper vibe. He was terminally ill at the time of production, I suppose there is a sickly look to him but I just put that down to the general disheveled look of the character.

Towards the end of the film we get a sudden shift from the dark and gritty city streets to pleasant, suburban family life as we find that the babysitter is all grown up and has a family of her own now. Oh no, we know where this is going. Why, she too is going out to a restaurant with her husband and has left her two kids under the supervision of a young babysitter. What a coincidence! And at that restaurant she gets a call she assumes is the babysitter but is actually a man asking if she’s checked on the children.

Now maybe I missed something along the way but I call absolute bullshit on this. Granted it does lead to something of vague interest, something that had been sorely lacking since the opening twenty minutes, but apparently this killer has kept some intention to finish off what he started those seven years ago, track her down, find her house and find the restaurant she’s going to be at so he can call it? How? There’s mention of a newspaper article on her so maybe he spotted her in that and that rekindled his urges to kill her? Still, how did he find the rest of the information? Unless this was all just blind luck?

I thought the movie was going to end there, fading out on her realizing who was on the other end of the phone, screaming as we faded to credits but no, we get a whole protracted ending of the cops watching the house, only for the killer to sneak in anyway and nearly get her until the PI comes in to save the day. Maybe it would have been a bit cliché but I think the sudden ending would have been better.

As I mentioned in my Black Christmas post, the story of the baby sitter and the man upstairs seems to trace back to an unsolved murder back in the 50’s. Just reading about this stuff is perhaps more interesting than the movie itself. Invariably all these stories seem to come back to promoting abstinence, like when the teen lovers get creeped out by a news story of an escaped mental patient with a hook for a hand stalking the local make out spot so they head home early, only to find his hook in the door handle when they get home. And as Jamie Kennedy told us in Scream, sex equals death. There’s maybe an element of that here too, look at the dangers you could get into if you have kids. Are you prepared to look after them? And we all know how we get kids…it’s the stork, right?

There was an interesting point that I’d not considered before on this that I heard recently on a podcast dealing with urban legends. It’s not about scaring kids away from sex and having kids of their own, it’s an anti-feminist message that seeks to put women ‘back in their place’. Do you really want to be independent and go to work? You’re being negligent by leaving your kids in the hands of some stranger. Better to stay home and be a nice little housewife.

As I’ve also mentioned previously, this movie had a remake back in 2006 and apparently they shed the tracking down the killer plot and just stick to the baby sitter opening. That’s fine, I guess, but how do you drag that out for an hour and a half? There was also a made-for-TV sequel in the early 90’s called When a Stranger Calls Back. I guess that’s about a different killer though because I don’t know how this one is going to call back, he’s fucking dead!

youtube

When it comes to this movie though, maybe look up the short film version or just watch the first 20 minutes of this. You might be a little distracted like I was at times though. As part of the soundtrack they have a habit of playing what is pretty much that THX sound effect. It’s not something I’ve had first hand experience with but from what I’ve seen in pop culture, it’s something they’d play before movies, I guess it’s something to do with the sound? To hear it here though, It’s really weird.

#Halloween 2019 #When a Stranger Calls

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alittledizzy · 8 years

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Hi I realize this is late but what is your opinion on the whole Phil-not-discussing-politics-and-not-discussing-moonlight drama? I saw you reblogged from one of the blogs that was super angry about it? Don't you think it's a bit harsh to expect him to talk about every social issue even in the movies he watches for fun? Idk. I feel like people can never be happy with Phil, they're always looking for reasons to criticize him. But I would like to hear your thoughts.

I haven’t seen Moonlight so i don’t feel like I can make a personal comment on the movie or worth of his opinion on it, but I’ll make a few points about the situation in general as I see it:

- It’s not uncommon for someone to identify with the struggle portrayed in a movie when they see it as representation. To have someone view something you consider representation (of you, or just the kind of struggle you feel strongly about) as boring with little further in the way of explanation can feel like a personal rejection.

- It’s not that people expect him to talk about “every social issue even in the movies he watches for fun” - it’s that the actual plot of this particular movie was a social issue and he neglected to even glancingly acknowledge that. The fact that Dan spoke about it and did acknowledge the social issue and importance just puts Phil in a slightly worse light by comparison.

- It’s a sign of a bigger issue people have with Phil. We don’t know that he values the struggle that POC and the LGBTQ community go through, so it’s harder to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume by ‘it’s boring’ he meant ‘I recognize the weight of the film and what it represents, I just found the storytelling slow’. We don’t know enough to cut him slack because he doesn’t talk about it.

- Phil doesn’t talk about anything he values beyond a shallow surface layer of things that relate directly to himself. To paraphrase @europeansoul in a conversation I was in earlier, we know he’s passionate about his family, his career, his partner. We do not hear Phil talk passionately about anything outside of his immediate life and circumstances. Does that mean he doesn’t care about social issues? We don’t know. Are we obligated to assume the best of him because we’re fans? I sure as hell hope not. Down that way lies blind adoration and I’m not here for that.

- His channel is about telling stories that make people happy. He’s under no obligation to go any deeper than that. In fact, I generally appreciate that he doesn’t because it’s a nice bit of a mental break from the world. But as much as it is his choice to keep us in the dark about how he feels about social issues and reject using his platform to spread awareness, it is the choice of his viewers to appreciate or not appreciate that.

- It’s ok to criticize people you’re a fan of. It’s ok to criticize people you’re a fan of.

#anon asks #Anonymous

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unholyhelbiglinked · 8 years

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Vice|Chapter Two

Hannah seemed to move fast despite her shorter than average height. She was good on her feet, her converse slamming across the pavement as she all but jogged up next to me. I wouldn't be able to tell her from anyone else in the town- if it weren't for the fact that I had only talked to her for the whole 48 hours I had been in Boonville.

I didn't mind the isolation much; I was a bit used to it. After what had happened in Jersey, I slowly pulled myself away from the friends I had made, hiding in a shell that normally I wouldn't have. I was preppy, on almost every committee in town. But my whole demeanor changed. I started to push people away, get more tattoos. Drinking seemed to come easy at that point, almost as easy as sneaking out of the house. Not having many people to talk to, wouldn't be a problem.

Hannah seemed nice enough. She had a lot of energy around her, but a calming one if that was even possible. Her words were quick and soothing, she had this all knowing aura around her that reminded me of Doctor Phil, but I was sure I'd get socked in the arm if I ever brought up the comparison. She was caring, caring enough to help me unload all the boxes. She stayed for dinner and offered to help me fix up the house for the remainder of the summer. I tried to protest, saying that it wasn't her job, and that I'm sure she had better things to do with her summer.

But she didn't. So here we were walking to the convenience store in the middle of town. I would have taken my bike, but Hannah advised against it- explaining that first impressions in this town were everything. I just nodded along, keeping to myself as the heat bit at my skin, sweat forming on my collarbone.

My white shirt was clinging to my back, the shorts I chose riding up slightly as Hannah seemed less than deterred by the hot North Carolina day. Her feet tapped against the pavement in a rhythm close to mine as we walked in a mostly comfortable silence.

"Hannah,"

"Hmm,"

"Ask what you wanna know already." I said in a drawn out sigh.

My sleeves were pushed up to my elbow, showing off some of the ink that was on my forearm. If I had stayed in Jersey, I would have gotten the other arm done too, but for now, the designs were just trailed across a portion of my skin.

"Did they hurt?" She shoved her hands in her jean pockets, knitting her eyebrows together to create that little crease between them. "You know, the tattoo's."

"I figured," I chuckled softly as the top of the buildings in town began to come into view "yeah, they kind of did. The first one really hurt. I didn't think I would ever get another one after that. But somehow I always found myself back in the chair."

"Oh," Hannah bit her lip with a small grunt "they don't have a tattoo place around here. Never seen one up close. Googled it once."

I laughed at this, stopping for a second as Hannah glanced at me questioningly, like she hadn't said anything too jarring. "Hannah, you use google for porn, not for looking up tattoos." I started walking again, not hearing her footsteps for a few seconds until she caught back up with me.

"Well I use it for that too," She shrugged, her hands still in her pockets "all I'm saying is that you're gonna rattle some people around here, Helbig."

I snorted, shaking my head slightly as I felt some stray hair falling from the messy bun that rested on my head "Didn't think anyone around here would really approach me anyway."

"I did," Hannah clenched her jaw "approach you I mean. You seemed nice. And accident prone. Figured you needed someone around to help with the repairs in case you needed to get driven to the hospital."

"Well, I appreciate it." I gave her a smile "You're the first person who talked to me around here. I don't think I could live if the only other human I had contact with was my mother."

"Yeah," Hannah kicked a rock, getting quiet for a few seconds "To be completely honest, I kind of needed a friend too. Oh, we're here." She shook her head softly before putting a bright smile on her face. I hadn't even noticed we walked into town- if town is what you would call it.

There was a middle squared, it looked like a park, but it was cornered by a large water tower. It created a nice patch of shade where a few families absentmindly played Frisbee, or threw around a baseball. Around the square was a few shops, from what I could read there was a Laundromat, a gas station on the end, a small pizza place that seemed to be busy. Across the way where Hannah and I stood was a grocery store with large displays out front, holding tomatoes, and other fruits and vegetables. There was a flower shop to the right, and then the hardware store- which we were standing under.

"Yeah, okay" I nodded towards Hannah, getting the door as I ignored her almost odd behavior. I knew not to push with things, and a few weird signals wasn't about to put me off.

The cold air of the shop was a blessing, almost drying up the sweat that formed against my collarbone. Hannah practically tugged me into the place, the darkness of the establishment making me pull my sunglasses away from my nose as I placed them on the collar of my shirt, making it hang slightly.

The store reminded me of a road stop more than a hardware store, granted I was used to big name brand places. Hannah seemed to know where everything was, so I let her drag me along as she grasped a plastic basket, reading off of the list we devised earlier.

"We need roofing nails," Hannah mumbled, catching my attention "which are over there," she looked up at the wall, earning a smirk from me.

"Why don't you get them then, Han?"

She dead panned, giving me a playful glare "Ha ha, make fun of the vertically challenged girl. Go get the nails, huh?"

"yes ma'am," I snickered rounding the corner as I stood in front of a large wall of different nails and screws. I squinted reading the different packs before standing on my tip toes to grasp it. The pack was smooth in my palm, but weighty. I turned it around and started to read the back as I stepped away from the wall, feeling my elbow hit something warm and soft.

"Oh," I gasped, turning around quickly, to face a boy that seemed to be covered in paint specks and a dark famers tan. His eyes were a sharp green, his dark hair cut and styled as his eyebrows knit together. He rubbed the center of his chest where I had rudely elbowed him. "I am so sorry."

"No problem," the boy breathed in "Who needs two lungs anyway, they're overrated."

I laughed, maybe a little too loudly as I scratched the back of my neck, my nerves going haywire. "Sorry again, I was just uh- looking for nails."

"Looks like you find them," the boy smirked, a small dimple forming on his cheek.

"Whoa," Hannah's low whistle pulled me from my awkward conversation as she rested her head on her folded up arms. She was leaning heavily on the dividers between the isles "looks like I was right about you being accident prone- just didn't think awkward would be a factor."

I scrunched up my face, resisting the urge to flick her off as I shoved my free hand in my pocket. She winked at me playfully, coming around to where I stood with the boy. "How's it going, Sawyer?"

"Good, Hannah. How about you?"

Hannah hummed in response, taking the pack of nails from my hand before throwing them in the basket. She seemed quite oblivious to how uncomfortable I was with meeting this kid, he didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. "Uh, I'm Grace."

I held my hand out, he eyed it for a moment before taking my palm in his, not offering up his name right away, seeing as Hannah had already informed me indirectly. "You're new here."

It was more of a statement than a question, I nodded regardless.

"Your father around?"

Hannah looked up, the boy nodded, running a hand through his hair, "I could ring you up though."

Hannah beamed, following the boy as I followed awkwardly behind her. I was never good at this meeting new people thing, and Sawyer seemed to have an edge around him that was quite alluring. He started to ring us up in silence, glancing up at me every once and awhile with a sly smile on his face.

"You need anything else?" Sawyer asked, knitting his dark eyebrows together. Hannah explained that we needed a few new pieces of wood, a couple canisters of white paint, and black for the shutters. Sawyer nodded. "You're planning on carrying that all the way back to the suburbs?"

"Planning on it," Hannah answered, earning a scoff from the dark haired boy.

"No, I'll give you a ride back in the truck." He grasped his keys, earning a thank you from both Hannah and I as she shoved me forward. The hot air was filling my lungs almost immediately as Sawyer let us to his pickup truck, taking the stuff we already got in his hands and putting it in the back.

"I'll go get the paint and wood," he threw Hannah the keys to his car "scratch her up, and you're dead to me Hart."

"Yeah, yeah I know the drill." She caught them easily, a smile still on her lips. I shook my head, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"What's with him?" I shoved my hands in my pockets, slumping my shoulders slightly.

"Brooding outcast," Hannah shrugged "or that's what everyone else calls him. He's really a sweet heart if you're ever looking for someone to date."

"Oh no," I held my hands up in front of me "he's not my type."

Hannah chuckled, raising her eyebrow slightly. Her face fell slightly as she glanced down at one of the rubber tires on the truck, her hair falling slightly into her eyes as her skin turned paler than it should be at this point in the day. I turned around slightly to where Hannah was averting her gaze.

A group of girls stood by the grocery store, a few of them looking at the apples that were heated by the sun. There were two or three of them staring our way, hands in their pockets as they gazed at Hannah and I.

"Grace, come on" Hannah touched my elbow softly, "Don't make eye contact please."

"What are they, pit bulls?" I scoffed, knitting my eyebrows together as I glanced back at the group, realizing we caught more of their attention. I couldn't see them well from here, but they looked bitchy. Each and every one of them almost dressed the same in pastel colored shirts and white shorts.

"Wolves," Hannah mumbled, tugging on my hand again to get my attention away from the girls. "Let's just get in the truck, okay?"

I clenched my jaw, lifting my chin slightly. Hannah seemed pretty spooked. "Yeah, okay. You get in first though, I hate the middle seat."

I unlocked the car, holding the door open for her, waiting for her to get in as she settled into the plush seat. I gave her a sly smirk as I shut the door behind me, staying on the outside as I locked the truck back up.

"Grace, what the hell?" her voice muffled, she was searching for an inside latch, but I knew this model of truck well. She wouldn't find one. "Come on."

My curiosity was getting the best of me, and Sawyer didn't seem to be in such a hurry to get back. If anything, I wanted to learn more about this 'wolf pack' that Hannah thought was so daring.

I shoved the keys in my pocket, turning around to come face to face with one. I stumbled back slightly, raising my hand to my chest. "Jesus, you people are like ninjas,"

"Excuse me?" the girl quipped, her dark brown eyes boring into mine.

"ah, um" I cleared my throat as the girl surveyed me, her eyes stopping at the ink running up my arms before moving back up to my stare "Sorry, just you scared me."

"Oh," She crossed her hands over her chest, glancing back to the girls that stood nearby now, all waiting for this girl to speak again "You're new around here. Which is why I'll excuse your incompetence."

"I'm sorry?" I lifted my chin up slightly, narrowing my eyes at the carbon clone.

"Your choice in friendship," she smiled her lips tight. "It's not very tasteful." Her eyes moved back to Hannah, then flicked over to me once more.

"Oh," I shrugged my shoulders, turning back to Hannah, seeing an odd grimace on her face. "How so?"

"You're too pretty to be hanging around with that- that," she waved her hand in front of her face, searching for the right word "that dyke."

I cocked my head to the side at this. Honestly I had never really questioned anything about Hannah's sexuality in the short time I knew her- and wasn't planning on it. No one's sexual preference deterred me from who they really were.

"I'm flattered, I think." I mumbled for her half compliment.

"I'm Jocelyn, by the way." She held out her hand, waiting for me to shake it. I eyed it accusingly, keeping my palm in my pockets. "You should really start hanging out with some of the better people in town."

"Oh, no" I continued to eye her hand, a small smirk on my lips "I don't think you're pretty enough to be that stupid."

She retracted her hand immediately, letting her jaw drop at my words. "How dare you?" she snarled.

I kept my body rigid "you don't make a very good first impression, Jocelyn. I'd much rather be around Hannah than you and your cronies any day."

"you don't even know me-"

"I know enough," I clenched my jaw, looking towards Sawyer as he started to walk back towards the truck, eyeing the girl as he silently put the planks of wood in the back. Jocelyn let out a strangled huff before stomping away.

I watched as she walked back to her group, immediately taking to exaggerating the scene that just took place. I didn't bother to tear my eyes away from the scene. "Did I just piss off half the town?"

"Yup." Sawyer sighed. "Did you lock Hannah in my truck?"

"Yup."

#Gracehelbig #MamrieHart #Mace #fanfiction

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