#i could barely get out of bed had a terrible migraine and absolutely no energy the past few days but today i finally felt rejuvenated again

[cheekblush]

finally got myself out of the rut i’ve been stuck in the past few days and went for a walk. got an açaí bowl and the owner of the place gave me a free drink 🥹 then i went around the lake and all the trees were covered in golden hues of sunlight. summer is coming to an end but i’m glad i got to enjoy one of the last warm september days and soak up the sun. nature is truly healing 🫶🏻💘🌤️

[steviewashere]

Let Me Make You Soup, Let Me Show You That I Care

(also on ao3)

wc: 4,149, Steddie Tags: Post Vecna, Post Canon, Post Season 4, Sick Steve Harrington, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting (Though Not Extreme, For I am Emetophobic), Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve's Sucky ass Parents

(Also, I hope y'all don't mind me cross-posting some of my favorite one shots that I've put up on ao3. Figured I could push them to a bigger audience, especially those who don't use ao3).

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Steve gets sick often. Small colds, allergies, the dreaded flu. Maybe it doesn't help him that he's had so many concussions and injuries on top of that too. Left with debilitating migraines and aching sides and muscles that become overexerted too fast.

Safe to say, his immune system is now a pile of steaming dog shit.

He's become good at attempting to "take care" of himself. With his parents being absent nearly all the time, much of the recovery process and gentle care was left to Steve. His hands don't have the same soft and slim quality as his mother's did, though. Even if she doesn't make the effort to shove his hair from his sweaty forehead or massage vapor-rub onto his chest or squeeze his shoulders as he dry-heaves into the toilet. He can miss that.

It's also safe to say that Steve Harrington, best babysitter and lesbian protector, is absolutely terrible at asking for help. His idea is, Got myself into this mess, I can get myself out. His other idea is, I don't want to burden anybody; I've been that too many times.

He suspects that's why his parents aren't there now to tuck him into bed and check his temperature and read him a bedtime story. Even though, now, he's a nineteen year old "man." More like a bruised child trapped inside the buff body of an even more injured adult, left to his own devices and decisions.

Steve is miserable today. Woke up with a knocking headache, an itch at the bottom of his throat, tingly fingers, shivering limbs, and the need to massage his abdomen to elicit the vomit to come up sooner.

It's barely nine in the morning. Just cracked his eyes open. Which, are heavy with crust and too much sleep, yet not enough.

It's barely nine in the morning and all Steve wants to do is lay stiff on his mattress, a trusty tried and true trashcan on the floor, curtains closed, a heavy duvet draped over his legs, and the A/C set to sixty-eight degrees. That's what he does. Doesn't have the appetite for breakfast or water or Tylenol. He doesn't have the energy to lay on a towel on the bathroom floor, body curled around the base of the toilet bowl. And, he doesn't have the confidence to plead with somebody over the phone to "Take care of me, just this once and I'll repay you."

He's done that before to Tommy. The bastard never showed and Steve sobbed so hard at the thought of being left alone, that he hurled right onto the beige carpet of his bedroom. That's why the desk is stuffed into the corner. To cover what he couldn't even take care of.

Steve has decided to lay in bed today. Has already used the trashcan. Kicked off the duvet then whined then brought it back to his sweat drenched t-shirt hem, then said fuck this and ripped the shirt off his body.

The silk sheets against his rapidly heating body feels nice. Like laying on the kitchen floor, Steve surmises. And that makes him think of soup.

A hot bowl of chicken noodle soup. Something he's made himself countless times before. A recipe that his mom never perfected. It's just Campbell's, the instructions are on the label, yet it was never made correctly.

She'd do that. When her motherly instincts were at an all-time high. That had to be when he was probably five? Six? His mom would make a bowl of soup so warm and soothing that she would have to warn him about touching the ceramic. She would bring him a glass of orange juice and say, ever soft and comforting, "It'll help you. Mommy promises."

The juice would sting his throat and he would cough so hard she would start to worry about doing the Heimlich maneuver.

That's what his mother's "sick care" turned into. A glass of orange juice that only hurt, never helped, just made him think about swallowing glass.

Soup turned into a heat-until-lukewarm situation. Juice wasn't bought for him. His parents elected to buy "fancy juice" instead. Another descriptor for Mommy's self-healing alcohol problem, Steve began to substitute. He remembers the last time she ever made him anything or gave a shit about his weakened body.

Steve was eleven years old.

He eventually learned where to buy the Campbell's stuff. From Mevald's. Now he keeps a hefty supply in the back of his family's pantry. Ready for a day like this.

A day where at eleven, before noon, Steve has a sudden mouth watering appetite for measly chicken noodle soup.

He hefts his body into an upright position, feet planted onto the carpet, fingers white-knuckling the edge of the mattress, a quick glance thrown at the trashcan, and a heavy breath burrowed into the stale air. Right before he scoots to stand, he hears the telltale sound of Eddie knocking on his front door. A simple three pattern.

The rapping startles Steve slightly. He forgot that Eddie was supposed to come over. I'll have to send him away, he thinks solemnly.

"Coming!" Steve croaks to the bathroom floor. With whatever strength the knocking has given him, he tucks the trashcan under his right arm, creeps to the top of the stairs, and ever so carefully floats down them.

The can is set off to the side before he opens the door.

In the glow of the daylight, energized and cheery, is Eddie Munson. Wrapped in a leather jacket, hair tied up into a bun, jeans replaced with jorts, and a grin the size of the moon.

"Hey Stevie," he drawls as his lithe frame leans against the doorjamb.

"Hey man, listen..." Steve begins before being interrupted.

"Whoa, what's going on with you?" Eddie shoves into the house. His grin is set into a small frown and his eyes are glazed with concern instead of the excited energy equal to a golden retriever. "Did you get enough sleep last night? You could've called me if you had a nightmare."

That's something him and Eddie do. When one has a god awful nightmare about floating bodies and squelching flesh and sterile hospital walls, they call each other. Sometimes to just hear that the other is alive. Other times for a trip to one another's house. The phone calls could be Eddie recapping a campaign storyline or Steve bemoaning over a wretched, hag of an old woman that demanded a refund on an R rated movie her grandson finagled her into renting. Or just breathing. Steve's fond of the soft puffs of air that signal Eddie finally relaxed enough to go back to sleep.

"No, weirdly enough I slept way longer than I was supposed to. I'm just sick today. But, I'm fine. Or at least I will be, got a good grasp on this. Y'know, trashcan, soft bed, canned soup. Was actually coming down here to send you back home," Steve rushes out. He's out of breath and feels lightheaded. The headache has turned into a pulsating mess and his stomach churns violently. Before he can warn Eddie again to go out the front door and leave him be, Steve finds himself hunched over his trashcan at the bottom of the stairs, trembling with the force of his grip. One hand on the edge of said bin. The other, wrapping tendrils of hair around his fingers and pulling with enough force to surely rip out some of his luxurious hair. Which, really, is a sweaty disgusting mop today.

He feels the hand in his hair loosen. A smaller, slightly cold hand replacing it. But this time, the fingers work carefully to sweep back any loose strands. Another hand joins the mix. This one squeezes at his right shoulder.

Eddie is behind him, whispering and shushing, "You're alright. I got you, let it out." His cold skin feels amazing over Steve's damp forehead. And equally, his touches are soothing.

Steve coughs once, twice, spits the same amount, and then leans against Eddie with a heavy sigh. "Thanks," he mutters. He shutters at being oddly exposed. Now that he's realized his torso is bare and he probably looks as awful as he feels and now all of his guts are in a bin in front of him.

The bin gets shoved over to the left and Steve starts to get up from the hardwood floor. Eddie lifts him up and leans him against his side. "How about this? I'll make you something mild, get some water into you, and divvy up a couple Tylenol tablets. Your skin is hot and not in the sexy way," he chuckles.

They make their way to the living room. Steve is deposited onto the couch with a cushion shoved behind his back and the can placed appropriately at his feet, within arm's reach. Eddie adjusts his hair again, this time with the tie from his own hair, and leaves to the kitchen.

Steve is dazed. Hot all over. Itchy in some places. Runny nose, aching stomach, watering eyes, and throat so itchy he wants to dig his fingernails into the skin on his neck. This predicament almost makes him embarrassed, more ashamed than anything. He gets his ass handed to him annually and has to have people take care of him during the concussions, until he's given the okay to go home and grovel in silence. And he puts himself in situations he can't get himself out of. He's tired of it, he realizes. Feels the need to apologize to Eddie, make him cookies or something, promise to never make him do anything like this ever again.

When said man comes back into the room with three extra-strength Tylenol in his palm and a cold glass of tap water, Steve wants to cry. It's not until Eddie is setting everything down to pet at his hair and shush him again doe he notice, he is crying.

"Sorry," Steve's voice rasps. He takes a gasping breath before choking out another nasty, wet sob.

"Nothing to be sorry for. It's what your body has to do," Eddie coos.

"No, I'm sorry you have to take care of me," he breathes. That's tally number two for decisions Steve is making today. Some miserable, lonely, somewhat pathetic decisions.

Then, Eddie pulls back. His eyes are the size of saucers. And that small frown from earlier has turned into a deep-set, terribly worrying downturn. "You don't have to apologize for that. Not at all. You need help, I'm here for you. It's what we do, okay?" he murmurs. Steve cries some more at that. Choking on his tears, practically. Enough for Eddie to say, "Hey, breathe with me. I don't want you to make yourself sick again."

So they sit for a few minutes. Breathing. Steve keeps his eyes on Eddie's mouth, watching him count. And Eddie stares at his eyes. Trying to piece together all the little details about this version of Steve. The one not picking fights and towering over unlucky underclassmen and spitting venom instead of backing away when he's supposed to. This Steve that looks like a small, terrified, lonely little boy. Who feels the need to apologize for being a human being. Somebody that makes sure everybody is better off and happy and swooned over before taking an assessment of his own body, the injuries stitched into his side, and the possibility that someone also wants to make sure he's doing alright.

God, who is Steve Harrington, Eddie questions to himself.

Once the tears have subsided and breathing has been placed under control, Steve feels exhausted. Eddie seems to notice because he suggests, "Why don't you lay down for a while? Maybe snooze some while I make soup?"

Steve nods with slight hesitancy. "Can I—" he stutters, "Can I lay down in my room?" To Eddie, this is the quietest he's ever heard his friend. And that doesn't sit right with him. A man—bulky and toned, loud and sassy, bark with no bite—now sitting with his shoulders slumped, skin blotched in various shades of pink and red, breathing ragged, and looking at Eddie with terribly timid eyes. He's just a little boy, some part of Eddie whispers.

"Yeah man. 'Course you can. How 'bout you get yourself to bed, I'll follow behind with your can, give you your medicine, and leave the door open just in case you need something?" The nod Eddie gets back is so energetic, it's as if Steve wasn't sick to begin with. That part of him that's been whispering and wondering is now aching. All he wanted was to be looked after.

Where are your parents, Eddie wants to ask aloud. Who was here to take care of you, Eddie wants to dig.

In mere moments, Steve is tucked back into bed. The curtains are drawn to be almost completely closed. His door is left unlocked and gaping. There are soft snuffles drifting through the house. And Eddie finds himself in front of the Harrington's fancy electric stove.

Before he came back downstairs to cook, Steve whispered something about there being Campbell's in the pantry. "If you want to heat it up on the stove, that's what my mama did when I was really little. It's what I do now."

Eddie glances at the cans and makes a decision for Steve, He deserves better than a piss poor attempt. Homemade it is.

When he was little, Wayne used to make soup on sick days. Still does. During the recovery time when Eddie's sides were still sore with stitches and itchy with stretch, Wayne would bring him a bowl of soup and a tall glass of orange juice on a little tray. He makes a mean bowl of tomato. "Something my mamaw taught me and now I can show you," he had told Eddie.

As much of a bare wasteland as Steve's kitchen is—What does he eat, Eddie wonders—he manages to find all the ingredients necessary. After a couple cupboards are ripped open and some miscellaneous drawers sifted through, he finds himself stirring a simmering metal pot of something he hopes Steve can keep down.

Eddie wants to chastise Steve for even thinking about being sick alone. What a misery sentence. Was probably going to call Robin and say something about, "You don't need to worry. It's not bad. I'll just be out of work for a couple days." Then he would've trekked back upstairs, slow like molasses, and locked the door behind him. Would've laid in bed shivering and crying and barfing. Probably would have passed out by the time he was finally hungry.

Steve even apologized earlier for being taken care of. As if he was a burden. Made himself smaller and tighter and quieter, that's for sure. So Eddie won't do any form of chastising. That'd only make him disappear on himself more.

As the soup is being dished up with plain toast and a cup is being filled with pulpy orange juice, Eddie hears Steve startle awake upstairs. Goes from snoring almost as loud as Wayne in the winter to dry heaving, hard.

Eddie sets the made tray down onto the counter. He makes his way back to the front door and chucks his shoes to the side and hangs up his jacket. Then, tumbles upstairs just as Steve is breathing raspy again.

One. Two. Three knocks on the open bedroom door. And in the blink of an eye, Eddie is over at Steve's side. He's crying again. Nothing like the nauseous sobs from earlier, but sniffles and silent watery blinks.

Steve's hair is pushed back again. "What's goin' on Stevie? What happened?"

"N-nothing," he spits frantically into the air. Like a kid trying to hide a lollipop behind their back. A teenager caught with a lit cigarette in hand. The family dog with a sneaker in it's mouth being told to drop it.

"Okay. Okay, I won't push. But I brought you some soup and orange juice. It's not the best because there's so much pulp in it, but it'll do for now. Oh, and—" Eddie sings. He digs around in his jorts pockets for a small container. As he brandishes it just in Steve's line of sight, he says, "Found some vapor-rub in the medicine cabinet downstairs. Now it is a few months out of date, but that just means more will need to be appl—honey, what's goin' on?" he questions softly.

Steve's sniffles have turned into thin-lipped, eyes glazed and bloodshot, muffled sobs. He has a streak of snot dripping down on his upper lip and his chest keeps stuttering. Eventually, he chokes out, "You brought the soup to me."

And what a statement.

The sentence slaps Eddie across the face, causing his head to rear back. It confuses him, that's what it does. Obviously I brought him soup, what the fuck, he asks himself incredulously.

"Wha—of course. That's what you do when somebody is sick. You help 'em out, bring soup or crackers or whatever and make sure they're better," Eddie supplies as he wipes away the sweat and snot with his banana. There's a brief moment where the only sound is Steve crying. The room is dim and he seems more comfortable than when the door was initially answered.

Eddie thinks back to the apologizing. The making himself smaller and quieter. His hesitancy about wanting to sleep in his own bed. How his mom used to make soup. And the statement, "Got a good grasp on this." Pieces start to click, sirens sound off, door number three has opened and behind it is a shiny new car.

A horrifying realization. The easy solution to Eddie's childlike curiosity over where Steve's parents are. And that in itself makes him want to hurl into the trashcan or pull full force at his hair or sob.

His parents aren't here and haven't been in a long while, Eddie accuses.

"Oh, Stevie." He pets again at his drenched hair. "I'm not going anywhere, alright? You don't have to worry about that with me. Let me do what I need to do, but I'll be right here if you need anything."

"Okay," Steve whispers.

Within just a couple minutes, Eddie has Steve propped back up on a mountain of pillows. Some from the hall closet, the stale bedroom of his parents, and the ones from his own bed. He's changed the bag in the can with a call of, "It's alright, no big deal," after Steve's cry that Eddie didn't need to do that. A bedside lamp has been turned on. An ice cold wet rag has been situated over his neck. There's a thick layer of vapor-rub in his chest hair.

Then came the aforementioned lunch. It smells divine. As if God himself started a soup kitchen in the Harrington's desolate house. What's even better is that it's definitely not chicken noodle.

"I don't remember there being any cans of tomato in the pantry," Steve notes.

"Oh, well. I thought you deserved better than that crap. Made something Wayne usually serves up. Family recipe," he sings again.

"Oh," Steve breathes. His eyes feel wet again, but he fights every part of him that says to cry. He's done enough of that. "Y'know, you didn't have to," he says quietly.

Eddie makes the wounded sound of a shot dog. He finishes setting up the tray on the stiff mattress. Then, situates himself to sit on Steve's left, rubbing down his bare back. "I wanted to. That's all that matters. Now eat up before it gets cold."

And he does just that. The bowl is hot to the touch. Its contents still fresh from being boiled. Even the gulps of orange juice don't burn as bad as when he was little. Steve feels five years old again. He's anticipating the late afternoon lunch from his mom where she'll show him vapor-rub and a spoonful of Pepto-Bismol. In the living room, she's going to lay down, with him on top, and they'll watch reruns of his favorite cartoons. The curtains are closed and she hums lullabies as he drifts off to sleep.

Eddie rubs his back and hums songs and kisses his forehead gently. Which, Steve hasn't been given that amount of affection in a long while. And he honestly doesn't mind.

There's something that's been sitting between the two of them, a thing the size of a ten pound medicine ball. A word shaped like love and comfort. The space where Eddie shares stories about Uncle Wayne and his hibernation snoring when the temperatures drop and how he acquired every single mug on their wall. And in response, Steve listens and drips a couple droplets of how his mom would read Goodnight Moon and kiss him on his cheek or on summer days where they'd splash each other in the shallow depth of the pool. Before it became a graveyard. Or the loosely sketched outline of a mom and her child. His dad wasn't as close, but he'd play catch when Steve was still learning about baseball or share facts about his car that intrigued little eight year old Steve in a way no sport has ever done before. How he acquired the bowling pin from the one time his parents took him out for his birthday. The car painting being something his dad did in his spare time, not bought from some general store in the next town over.

Even in his sick state, Steve thinks about pecking Eddie on the lips. Wonders how smooth they are. If he uses chapstick. What flavor it could be. His mind supplies days in the future where they make soup for each other and shout about how excellent Hellfire was or Lucas' basketball game had been. Mornings shaped by soft snores and gentle touches and steaming cups of coffee. Nights wrapped around each other, cooing sweet nothings when the nightmares become bloody again, and sex that's slow and drawn out. Or the quiet moments where Steve needs a shoulder to cry on. And open arms so that Eddie is encased in comfort, even after everything.

At his final spoonful and dip of toasted crust, Steve whispers, "I love you." As treacherous as his mouth has been in the past, this final decision isn't as daunting as the rest from earlier today. Some part of Steve knew that it would come to a head and the words would spill from his lips like the soup on his chin.

Eddie hums beside him. He kisses Steve one. Two. Three times on the forehead. Then he sets the tray aside with all the empty dishes and the vapor-rub with three finger divots. He strips down to his boxers and a simple t-shirt. And he tucks Steve in as he scoots on top of the duvet to hold him.

"I love you, too," he responds. "And I'll be here when you get up. So get some rest and the next time you're awake, I'll go get some new orange juice and more ingredients for tomato soup and a container of unexpired Vick's."

Steve drifts off to sleep with his body curled around Eddie's side.

In the morning, the curtains are open and soft sunlight streaks in the bedroom. Eddie has left the house to do a quick grocery run, leaving behind a note of "Just lay back and relax. I brought the phone upstairs if you want to keep yourself entertained."

He calls Robin to muse aloud how excellent Eddie is. Their dance around each other now concluded over a simple bowl of soup. How nice it is to finally get the care he wish he had when his mom started to go away. Him kissing a guy before she could kiss a girl and her shriek off, "The next time I see you, I'm gonna give you the nastiest, biggest wet willy this world has ever seen. Trust in it, Steve Harrington."

The threat isn't an empty one, but it makes Steve chuckle anyway. Even though he still feels that encroaching violent twist of his stomach and a cough that could send him flat on his ass.

And when the phone call ends and Eddie is back inside with soup being made on the stove? Steve feels like maybe it's alright to rely on his true family when the time comes. He makes a promise to himself too that he'll learn how to make the best goddamned chicken noodle soup this world has ever tasted. All so that he can dote over Eddie the same. Make sure that he really knows just how much Steve loves him.

"I love you," Eddie breaths into his tussled hair later on the couch, where they're watching cartoons.

"Love you, too," Steve slurs as his body becomes heavier with sleep.

[bellysoupset]

alright alright - luke gets migraines you say 👀👀👀 and vince is the absolute goat at taking care of them…. hmmm….. maybe something there??

When their captain didn't show up for practice, Vince knew something was very very wrong. Lucas never missed practice. He came in sick, he had come in concussed from a minor car accident once and even when he was just a regular teammate and not the captain, back when he had just started dating Bell's and going through the honeymoon phase, even then he had never missed practice.

Their coach, Eric, was very useless, but he kept them practicing nonetheless and by the time they hit the showers, all of the men were in a sour mood. Practice simply wasn't the same without Lucas' high energy and terrible competitiveness pushing them forward.

"Vin," Leo stepped out of the shower, drying his hair, "any idea where Lucas is?"

He had texted him before practice and called, but there had been no answer. Bella wasn't in town, out visiting her mother back in New Mexico, so Vince was trying really hard not to text her, despite the growing anxiety.

"He hasn't answered me," Vince shook his head, "I'll stop by his place, I have a key."

"Alright," Leo nodded, worried, "please update us."

It was telling how worrying it was that Lucas had missed practice, because even Jonah hadn't quipped in about him being fine.

True to his words Vince ditched the rest of his classes and drove back to Lucas' building. Unlike Jon's it didn't have a fancy guy who monitored constantly who went up, you just needed to have the access code, which Vince did. He punched it in, then decided against the slow elevator, picking the stairs instead.

Luke's apartment was quiet, just as neat as it was normally. Bella was the messy one of the duo, Vince was well aware.

"Luke? You there?" Vince called out, snooping around. He didn't want to startle the shit out of his best friend or worse, walk on him doing things that Vince would rather not see, "Lucas?"

He knocked on the closed bedroom door, then waited for an answer. Then again. When there was none, he slowly opened the door.

The room was dark, Lucas had pulled the blackout curtains, which could only mean one thing...

"Aw dude," Vince sighed as he circled the bed and found Luke curled up on the floor, sitting against the wall, "hey..."

As an answer, Lucas let out a whimper and cradled his head even more, knees drawn up to his chest. It had been months since his last migraine episode and Vince hadn't been there for that one, so that made at least an year since he had last seen Luke in such a distressing state.

"Let's get you lying down," Vince whispered even more, barely enunciating the words, "I'm sorry-" he grabbed Lucas' arm, very gently ushering him up, only for his best friend to groan and push him away, chest jostling as he aborted a heave.

Vince's heart broke. He was no stranger to migraines, it was almost like he was surrounded by people who suffered with them. From his mom and sister, to Lucas and, now, Wendy too. It was infuriating how helpless it made him feel.

Deciding against moving him for the moment, Vince stepped into the bathroom and then paused, cringing at the fucking mess.

Clearly Luke had been feeling the headache for a while. He had somehow caused most of his and Bell's toiletries to fall to the ground, stomped on a tube of toothpaste in his rush to reach the toilet. And had failed spectacularly at that too, there was dried sick on the toilet lid and on the lid of the trashcan. Vince felt his own stomach turn at the sight, but decided he'd only deal with the bathroom once he managed to get Lucas settled and knocked the fuck out.

Instead, he wet the hand towel and folded it in, also filling up the cup Luke had knocked over with water and walking back to the room. Vin carefully set down the cup out of Lucas's reach, lest it spilled over, and then crouched down before the man, wiping his sweaty face with the wet washcloth.

"Fuck," Luke mumbled and his voice was hoarse and split the word, "Vin, fuck, it hurts..."

"I know, I'm sorry," Vince whispered back too, finishing wiping him clean and turning the washcloth over, so the fresh side was pressed to his overheated nape, "did you take meds?"

Another whimper, Lucas grimacing because of the meds, "won't stay down."

Vince's heart hammered in his chest, "ok" he said quietly, then took Lucas' wrist on his hand and pinched at the skin. It bounced back quickly, much to his relief. At least he wasn't dehydrated, yet, "ready to move?"

"Ok," Lucas groaned, then tried to move, but just the inch he managed caused him to whimper and cradle his head, "Vin..."

"Hug me," Vince whispered, all but hugging him too and Lucas promptly collapsed into the hug, wrapping his arms around his best friend's neck. Then, very very slowly Vince pushed them both up from the ground, immediately aiming for the bed.

He almost fell with Luke too, seeing as the other man was too out of it to realize he had to let go of his neck now that he was half lying down on the bed. He had his green eyes squeezed shut and a horrible frown on.

"I want to die."

"Shhh," Vince cooed, opening the bedside drawer slowly and pushing an assortment of random items to the side. Condoms, extra keys, a CD with no cover, "weed?" Vince raised his eyebrows, but Luke was too out of it to answer about the vape. Vin stashed the information away for another time, finally finding the pill bottle that had a black band on the label.

"Okay buddy, just one pill, alright?"

"Gonna hurl" Luke groaned, face half mushed on the pillow, "stomach hurts, everything hurts."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry-" Vince grabbed the abandoned cup and held up the pill for Lucas, "just a tiny sip, I promise-"

It took some coaxing, Lucas couldn't hold the glass to save his life, but he did gulp the pill down. Only to immediately gag, "Vin-"

"Breathe, you're okay," Vince cooed, taking the washcloth from his nape, turning it around and holding it to his forehead, "breathe."

Luke gagged again, whimpering, but then his body went slack. He let out a little sigh of relief and Vince the breath he wasn't aware he had been holding.

He stepped away from the bed, back into the bathroom to refreshen the washcloth, and grab the toilet bin, just in case. The whole thing was messed up, so he had to tie up the bag, wash it and only then bring it back to the room. Luke hadn't moved a finger.

"Bell?"

"Bella's out of town. Remember?"

"Uhm," he grunted, throwing an arm over his eyes, despite the room being terribly dark, "hurtssss"

Vince couldn't answer, didn't know what to answer and knew very well that empty words would only hurt more. Instead he settled for sitting on the edge of the bed, gently pushing the brown waves away from Lucas' forehead and sighing internally.

This idiot was his brother in any way that mattered, this much was clear to him. College or no college, team or no team.

Five minutes later Luke's breathing evened out and Vince lingered, waiting until he could hear snoring before pulling back.

He went back to the bathroom, opening up the window across it and starting by getting the exploded toothpaste off the ground, as well as all the other bottles and creams that had fallen. Then he crouched down to get the cleaning supplies from under the sink an finished cleaning up the old vomit from the toilet, the ground next to it and shut the door, flushing the toilet twice for good measure before dumping some bleach inside.

Much better.

He walked out of the bathroom, hoping he hadn't woken up Lucas and thankfully he hadn't, he was still knocked out. Vince tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door open so he could hear anything and took Luke's phone with him.

Vince's own phone had four different texts. Two from Leo, questioning about Lucas, one from Wendy "where should we meet?" and one from Bella, "Lucas hasn't answered me all day, have you seen him??"

Great.

He clicked on Lucas' phone and on the screen he could already see five different texts from Bella, four missed calls, one of which was his own.

She won't stop talking about us. SOS. Goodnight, text me in the morning. love you. Luke? Is everything alright? I've tried calling... Lucas, I'm worried, please call me back.

Oh fucking yikes, Vince thought as he wiped the notifications away and called Bella from his own phone, stepping into the living room so he wouldn't accidentally wake Lucas up.

She picked up on the second ring, "Vince?! Have you talked with him? Is he okay? If he's okay, tell him I'm going to fucking chop his b-"

"He's sick," Vince interrupted, muffling a chuckle, "well, not sick, it's a migraine. Found him curled up in the bedroom."

"Ah... Oh shit," Bella's anxiety clearly vanished, replaced by worry, "he stopped answering me before dinner yesterday... You think he's been sick since?"

"Yeah, I do," Vince opted not to mention the trashed bedroom, "just knocked him out with the good drugs, I'm hoping he'll be better when he's awake."

"...And if he's not?"

Vince sucked in a breath, could tell that Bella was thinking the same as him, because then she sighed.

"Look, just- Just call me if he's not better and I'll come back. I don't want him alone in a hospital."

"I'm not taking him to ER, he'd panic and make it all worse. If he's not better I'll call Jon, okay?" Vince pinched his nose bridge, feeling his very own stress headache, "don't worry honey, I'll take care of him. Enjoy yourself."

She let out a snort, "kinda hard to do, I've been here for two days and I'm already sick of my mother... Thank you V-" then some cursing as Vince overheard her mother speaking in the background and Bella answering in Spanish, "fucking hell, okay, I have to go. Please call me later, alright? And just- I love you. Take care of him."

Vince's face split with a smile, "yeah, love you too. Bye," he mumbled, feeling a little high from the impromptu declaration. He smiled as he put down the phone, still basking in the warm fuzzy feeling, then shook his head and answered Leo.

Then Wendy... Fuck, he'd have to cancel. They had been planning to go watch a very artsy movie she wanted to see, that only played that one night, and now he'd have to cancel. Vince pouted the entire time as he texted her back.

Sorry, family emergency. I'm gonna have to raincheck tonight.

He cursed as the text turned green, Wendy having clearly received and read it, but no answer came through.

In the bedroom, there was moving around and then a groan, snapping him out of his relationship drama and jogging back to the room, in time to see Luke blinking awake, drunkenly trying to pull himself up.

"Luke, no, don't-"

"I- my head," he groaned, mouth agape, a line of drool down his chin, "I'm-"

"Lu-"

His best friend gagged, productively, and a mouthful of watery bile hit his chest. Repulsion immediately caused him to gag again, just as Vince crossed the room in three large steps and help the bin up for him just in time to the next weak wave of stomach acid.

"Fuck," Lucas groaned softly, eyes still dazed from the pain.

"Yeah, dude, fuck," Vince put down the bin, "don't move, I'm going to take off your shirt..."

Luke was out of it enough to obey, sitting there like a trembling chihuahua, big green eyes moist with tears of pain, greasy hair sticking out in all directions.

Vince grimaced as he grabbed the neckline of Luke's sweat drenched shirt and then stretched it, so he could safely pull it up without getting vomit on his hair, "there you go- no don't-" he didn't get to say anything else before Lucas was falling back against the pillows, grabbing a secondary one and pressing it to his face.

Vin sighed, "okay, sleep shirtless I guess..." he mumbled, bunching up the ruined shirt in a hand and stepping out of the room to throw it in the washing machine.

When he made it back to the room, Lucas was once again, passed out. At least he wasn't awake and in pain, Vince thought sourly, looking at the hour and making a mental note of when he could try the medicine again.

Then he stepped out of the room.

----

"Hey," Lucas voice was hoarse as he emerged from the bedroom, shirtless still, rubbing a hand over his pale face, "I thought I had dreamed about you."

Vince snorted, looking up from his phone, "I'm not that dreamy..." his voice trailed off with concern, "how are you?"

"Better," Luke sat down next to him on the couch, "hangover, I think... When did you get here?"

"This morning," Vince ruffled his best friend's hair, moving to the kitchen and coming back with a gatorade bottle, "bottom's up."

Luke didn't even question it, taking a small sip, hesitant... Then a long gulp when it seemingly stayed down, "what time is it?"

"Uhm, around eight PM," Vince glanced at his phone's clock, "you've been in and out twenty four hours, basically."

"Goddammit," Luke winced, "I missed practice."

Vince stared at him, split between grinning and slapping the man, "never change, Lucas."

[bookishofalder]

Catfish & Sunshine

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Mini Series

Summary: Frankie is secretly in love with his best friend. Thanks in part to Benny’s shitty horror movie recommendation and stray ice cream, feelings come out unexpectedly during movie night. 

Warnings: Language, SMUT, little angst, lots of fluff, poor writer understanding of US military benefits/retirement. WC 8,215.

A/N: I dreamed this up after rewatching Triple Frontier about a month ago (for the plot, of course) and let it sit for a while. Became inspired to finish it off this week and share it with you all-so please let me know your thoughts!

For over a decade, Saturday nights were, for Frankie Morales, usually spent with his best friends over drinks at their favourite bar. When deployed, the bar was instead smuggled whiskey that they shared under the stars, an attempt to imagine they were anywhere other than the current hellhole. As Special Ops soldiers, Frankie and his buddies had been through the worst of the worst together, until one by one they retired or were forced to retire, and then they were back to regular appearances at the local bar, for a while the five of them, then four.

Until Frankie met you.

Had someone come up to him during one of those nights years before and told Frankie that one day he’d be bringing you along to the bar to join him and the guys, he’d have laughed in their faces. But for a while, that was exactly what occurred, until you and Frankie grew so close that you usually ended up making different plans, like going mini-golfing, or lounging at his apartment and watching movies. Not that you didn’t love the guys, all whom you’d met except for Santi as he had been off the grid for just over a year when you and Frankie had met.

It was thanks to the elder Miller brother, Will, that he had even met you at all. Working at the VA office, Will had learned of one of the few retirement perks they had for putting their asses on the line for their country-physical therapy. And you came highly recommended, a star PT who had worked magic over his friends' ailments. Knowing Frankie suffered from shoulder and neck pains, Will handed him your card and encouraged him to book an appointment.

He hadn’t called straight away. He’d popped your card onto his fridge and every day he’d pass by it, consider calling, and then talk himself out of it. Until the pain became too much to bear, his latest menial job just a little too physical for him, causing him to consider using again just to dull the ache. But he’d walked by your card moments later and instead of making a terrible decision he had promised himself he’d never make again, he called your office. Made an appointment with your friendly receptionist, who thankfully had his name already because Will had put in a good word for Frankie and asked that they try and get him in straight away, whenever he finally did call.

Two days later Frankie was standing nervously in the treatment room, looking at a wall decorated with your various degrees and certificates. He was anxious not only because he worried he’d get his hopes up that this would help the pain only to be disappointed, but also because he had no idea what to expect. Years of service as a pilot had made Frankie into a man who planned, meticulously, leaving little in the way of surprises. But he’d reasoned that calling the office back and demanding they give him a minute-by-minute account of what the appointment would be like was probably going too far.

And then you had walked in and immediately his worries morphed into concern over the fact that he required a beard trim, that he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed and popped his usual cap on, probably appearing a little gruff. And fuck, he almost couldn’t breathe when you gave him the most dazzling, genuine smile like you were greeting an old friend. You were bright, a rare energy radiating off of you as though you absorbed it straight from the fucking sun, and you were beautiful. No wonder Will had winked at Frankie when he’d handed you the business card.

You were observant, introducing yourself and seemingly sensing his overall discomfort. Instead of launching straight to business, you gestured for him to sit and spent a good twenty minutes casually chatting, pulling information you needed from him while putting him at ease entirely. He learned then that Will had already sung Frankie’s praises, given you the heads up that he was a worrier and even told a few stories that showcased his talents as a pilot.

If Frankie didn’t know any better, he’d think his friend was trying to play matchmaker.

All thoughts of Will Miller, and pretty much every other thing on the planet, vanished the moment you laid your expert hands on to Frankie. You zeroed in on the worst source of pain and slowly worked away, and he could only agree with Will that you had magic hands. He could have died happily right then, as you chatted away and brought him the most relief he’d felt in years. You would pause occasionally to check in with his pain levels and make sure he was doing alright, always asking him to look at you to answer and searching his face as he spoke to ensure he was telling the truth.

The care you gave Frankie in just one appointment was enough to start him falling. And he kept going back, multiple appointments a week that not only had him walking taller, feeling lighter on his feet and reducing his migraines to seldom, but also allowing him to get to know you better. You were the kind of sweet-natured person that cried when you saw a sad commercial, laughed freely to the lamest of jokes, and seemed to wake up on the right side of the bed every day. You were sunshine, literal, tangible sunshine, and Frankie thought you might not even realize it.

Though Frankie had convinced himself early on that a woman as beautiful and kind as you could never be interested in a grouch like him, with his crows' feet and a closet full of demons. The longer he knew you little seeds of hope would sprout whenever he made you laugh so hard you had to stop the treatment just to hold your stomach as you giggled. Or when you’d share something with him innocent enough but, upon reflection, he would think it wasn’t something a normal patient-provider relationship would find exchanged.

But there was the age difference, a decade between you both that, if nothing else worked, would successfully extinguish his hope. He had wondered if perhaps you were just a decent people person, that the friendship he felt was there was entirely one-sided.

Until one day, a few months into coming to you for treatment, Frankie sat waiting for you to come in the room only for you to appear looking entirely unlike yourself. He booked his appointments always for the end of the day, a routine that promised he would get plenty of uninterrupted time with you and the conversation could flow without a time constraint. He had been so surprised that you weren’t grinning as you stepped into the room that he stood abruptly, filling with concern.

When he asked, softly, if you were alright, you didn’t brush him off like he might have expected. You instead looked up at Frankie, your lower lip trembling as your eyes filled with tears, and sobbed unexpectedly. That sound had torn a hole right into his chest and he had pulled you straight into his arms and hugged you close before asking you to tell him what he could do to help.

You ended up explaining that you had come in that morning to the news that a regular patient of yours, an elderly man you’d known the entire time you’d been working for the VA office, had passed away in his sleep. And you’d apologized to Frankie while sniffling and wiping at the tears, telling him you’d held it in all day but couldn’t do that when your friend asked you, and he had been baffled to realize you were referring to him. As your friend.

He had cut off your apology to hug you close again, smoothing your hair gently as he whispered calming words and sentiments to you in Spanish. And though you didn’t speak the language, you had since told Frankie it had done exactly what he’d hoped and made you feel all the better. 

After his treatment that day, Frankie asked if he could take you for a drink to toast your friend's life. He waited for you to close up the office, and then you’d followed him in your car to drive over to his usual bar. And you both drank to the veteran who passed, then ended up ordering dinner and remaining at the bar until late, talking even more freely outside of the office. If Frankie didn’t already have it bad for you, that night sure sealed it for him.

After that, you and Frankie began texting regularly, sometimes even calling one another to share a funny story or talk about something in the news. He had joined you for your former clients funeral, his hand rubbing comforting circles into your back before he took you out for lunch, then you’d ended up at his place to watch a cheesy movie, ordering pizza when you both realized there was a sequel that, if it was as bad as the first, you absolutely needed to watch.

And just like that, Frankie saw his life altered completely when you became his best friend.  

Currently, Frankie was seated comfortably on his couch, where he frowned at the TV playing a horror movie that you had insisted was supposed to be good, because Benny had recommended it. Considering the younger Miller brother could barely sit still half the time, that was supposedly good enough for you. 

You were tucked into Frankie’s side, eyes fixed on the screen until a jump scare had you jerk, then twist your face to press into his chest, because you hated the gory bits.

“Fuck! How does this not scare you even a little, Frankie?” You whined, unknowingly causing Frankie to swell with pride when he heard the note of admiration in your voice. He had started to suspect that the reason movie nights were becoming exclusively scary movies was that you were determined to find one that actually frightened him.

So far, you’d had no luck. But Frankie didn’t mind, because though you were already a touchy person in general, you were especially clingy when you queued up the next horror flick as if you trusted him to keep you safe.

Frankie didn’t reply, his chest rumbling with silent laughter that made you teasingly poke his side. He jumped, because you knew exactly where to aim, then cleared his throat. The scene ended, and he began to extract himself from your grip. “My sweet tooth is calling, cariño. I’m going to get some ice cream.”

You let him go, your head popping up, a big grin on your face, “Can I have some too, please?” And he nodded, smiling at you before walking across the open concept apartment and into his kitchen.

He stretched his back before opening the freezer where he had some bars next to an off-limits pint of Ben and Jerry’s. You had put it there months ago, telling Frankie it was for days when you got together and one of you needed to cry over a bad date. You called it ‘emergency’ ice cream. Frankie considered it to be ‘fuck you’ ice cream, because every time he opened his damn freezer he saw that pint and ended up thinking about how neither of you had been on a date with anyone since becoming friends over a year before, then falling into the same circular argument with himself-that the friendship was too important for him to feel the way he did, that he was jumping to conclusions and maybe you had gone on a few good dates that you just didn’t tell him about, and he was out of his mind if he thought you would ever feel the same way.

“Here you go, Sunshine,” He plopped back down next to you and passed you your bar, watching as you beamed at him widely, the inevitable result of his use of the nickname he’d dubbed you with a long time ago.

He desperately hoped you never realized the amount of affection truly behind that nickname.

Because how could he even begin to explain that you were literally sunshine in his dark life?

“Thank you,” You pulled the wrapper off, glancing at the movie and frowning. “Uhg. Benny promised the one was good! I’m starting to think he only recommends movies if they have at least one pair of tits.” You took the first bite of your ice cream bar while Frankie nearly choked on his own.

Amused as he was whenever you joked about your shared friends, Frankie also loved it when you swore. You were a goofy, happy little thing most of the time and curse words just seemed so out of character for you, pulling laughter from Frankie any time you caught him by surprise. You spent your days around gruff veterans and never seemed to lose any light, no matter how many real horror stories you heard. So whenever you managed to sound so uncharacteristically blunt, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Benny has always been a tits man,” Frankie agreed, and you giggled. He tried to refocus on the movie then, but it hadn’t captured his interest in the least. After a moment, you spoke again and he had to work on not choking.

“What are you, Francisco?”

Your tone was playful, light; Frankie’s head jerked in surprise to gaze down at you and you wiggled your brows, going for laughs. You seemed completely unaware of the roaring in his ears, the visceral reaction your words brought forth within him. You and Frankie had shared intimate tidbits like that before with one another, often during nights at the bar with the Miller brothers. After a few drinks and usually, because his friends knew exactly how he felt about you and tried to steer the conversations into dangerous waters and watch Frankie try to save himself.

Only, Frankie’s friendship with you during the last few months had become...deeper. After the operation Santiago had brought Will, Benny, Tom and him in on, your relationship had evolved. Because that nightmare had reminded Frankie just how dark shit could get in the blink of an eye, and he’d had to do things he thought he was done with when he retired from service. Worse, because they were just civilians using Santi’s connections and intel to rob a drug lord.

And you had no idea what he’d gone through, how hard he’d fought just to get home to you because he couldn’t-wouldn’t-tell you. Yet you still patched him up, physically and emotionally, when he’d come home three weeks later than he’d promised. You held him as he cried and never became angry with him, never questioned him for answers as to why he’d come home with one less friend and a whole lot of mysterious trauma.

After that, Frankie realized he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

So a simple, flirtatious little question? Yeah, it really managed to fuck Frankie up.

His friends had sensed the change as well, noticed how you held Frankie up when he felt like he couldn’t stand, how you comforted them all when they got home and cried along with them over Tom, over Santi not coming home even though you’d only met him once, briefly. You held strong for him at Tom’s funeral, which prompted the Miller brothers to tell Frankie in no uncertain terms that he simply could not let you slip through his fingers. If that fucking mission had taught them anything, it was that life was too short and you might as well live it to the fullest.

But the thing was, Frankie depended on you. Your friendship was the one real, good, pure thing in his life. And you gave it so willingly and unquestionably even after what he put you through that there was no fucking way he was risking it by telling you how he felt.

Christ, you even had a spot in his bathroom for your own toiletries, a favourite pillow on his bed for the nights you stayed, a fucking hook for your coat that he installed just a little lower than the other because you were so much smaller than Frankie.

And still, he wouldn’t look at what that might mean because he was afraid, and as much as you seemed to think nothing scared him, the truth was that a gory horror movie, or losing his friend, or even fucking live combat could never come close to the fear he felt when he pictured life without you.

You were Frankie’s Sunshine, and he never wanted to be alone in the dark again.

Aware he was still gazing down at you, Frankie found himself entirely at a loss for words. You didn’t seem to mind, simply waiting for him to respond while taking small bites of your treat. His cock twitched at the combination of your words, the innocent way you gazed at him, because Frankie hadn’t touched himself in quite some time and it didn’t take much to drive him up the wall.

His life with you had become remarkably domestic, routine. You often stayed multiple nights in a row at his place, preferring his company over being alone, and the shorter distance to your office. His spacious condo had one large four-piece bathroom, which meant there had been a few times where one of you was in the shower and the other came in, desperate to use the toilet before their bladder could burst. The shower had a thickly frosted glass enclosure, which provided plenty of visual privacy from both sides, the only indication that someone was in the shower was a very faint tint. This was never an issue until it was.

Exactly sixty-two days prior (not that Frankie was necessarily keeping count of passing time since his last orgasm), you had burst into the bathroom one afternoon unexpectedly. Returning early from your jog because you needed to pee, while Frankie stood in the shower. He listened to you tell him about a cute dog you’d seen outside his building. The thing was, Frankie had expected you to be gone longer, and you were in the middle of a three-day visit that had left him needy and horny because he hadn’t had time alone and yet you walked around in his fucking clothes, slept next to him in his bed, and he needed release.

He was grateful the tinted glass prevented you from having any idea what he was doing on the other side. And he had been close already when you came in, one hand fisting over his cock while the other pressed into the tile wall, and guilt sprang up in the back of his mind because he had been thinking of you as he touched himself. And you were just feet away, unaware and fuck if that didn’t lead him to the edge.

But it was when you had sat down to pee and he heard you give a little moan of relief that Frankie lost it, giving in to the most powerful-yet silent-orgasm he had had in fucking years. Rope after rope of cum, his legs violently shaking, and he’d wondered if he would pass out it felt so good. Then you’d flushed and continued speaking, washing your hands before telling him you were going to put on a pot of coffee. And the guilt Frankie felt was so immense that he vowed right there he wasn’t going to touch himself again. He cared for and respected you too much to reduce you to his graphic thoughts without your consent.

Sixty-two days later and you were testing his limits unknowingly.

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” He replied, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You frowned a little, kitten licking the ice cream absentmindedly. Frankie almost groaned, wondering if you were trying to kill him. “I guess, it depends on the person.” He was never, ever going to admit he was a you man, that your ass, your perfect tits, your pretty little mouth were everything he could dream and more.

He tried to shrug casually, as if indifferent.

“I guess it’s a funny question,” You said after a moment, laughing a little, “I mean, no one asks a straight woman if she’s an ass or cock girl!”  

Frankie took a too-large bite of his treat, the cold painful and giving him instant brain freeze but it was just the distraction he needed because seeing your plump lips wrap around the word ‘cock’ might just kill him. He coughed attempting to laugh at your joke despite the brain freeze, and you leaned closer in concern.

“Sorry, are you-ah, shit!” A piece of your ice cream bar, which you’d moved to hold higher as you were checking on Frankie, fell off and landed on your chest, instantly staining the pale pink t-shirt. You hopped up with a noise of discontent, catching the fallen glob and hurrying into the kitchen to toss it in the sink. “Damn it!”

Frankie reached out and paused the movie, standing up and intending to follow you. He took two steps, adjusting his cap as he moved, and then looked up to where you stood at the sink, running your shirt under the faucet. Freezing, he took it the sight of you standing in his kitchen, your shirt removed to run under the water, leaving you wearing yoga pants and a simple white bra. For a moment, he just shut down and stared at you dumbfounded, before internal alarms started sounding and Frankie’s eyes were sweeping over your curves, his eyes zeroing in on the lack of support your bra had, your breasts perky and full and fuck, he had to look away.

He looked up at his ceiling at cleared his throat “You uh, want me to grab you a shirt?” His voice came out much deeper than he was expecting. He hoped you didn’t notice, though with only being able to see your profile even if he did dare to look at you, he’d never be able to tell.

“Can I borrow your big sweater, please?” You asked him, and Frankie nodded as he hurried away, down the hall to grab the sweater he knew you meant from his room. He would have laughed at your suggestion it was his sweater when he barely got to wear it himself anymore, but he was trying to remember how to breathe.

Once out of sight in his bedroom, Frankie took a few steadying breaths before grabbing the sweater off the end of his bed. He was going to subject himself to a cold shower after he handed this to you because you were staying the night again and he could not climb into a bed with you this worked up.

One of the reasons that you and Frankie just worked as friends were your opposite ways of navigating life. Where Frankie was a detailed, meticulous planner, you flitted from idea to idea spontaneously until something landed right, and you seemed to enjoy pulling him along with you as you followed those random whims. And he let you pull him because he trusted you so completely. Even if he would still make a new plan in the back of his mind, it still felt like he was taking chances he never would have without you leading the way.

Planning was Frankie’s way of keeping control. Of keeping himself, his squadmates, his loved ones, safe and secure. After Columbia, where every bit of the plan had gone completely to shit, he’d needed to let you lead more often just so he could feel grounded because he didn’t trust himself any longer. And you had been happy to lead, to test his limits by pushing aside any planning he attempted and pull him from his comfort zone. You had taught him how to grapple with his instincts and his desires, giving him real-world methods to cope, including breathing as he was now.

So focused as he was on his breathing, Frankie hadn’t noticed you had joined him in his room, standing just inside the doorway. If he had heard you, he wouldn’t have spun around abruptly and take two long strides before realizing how close you were, nearly knocking you over as he did. He dropped the sweater when he reached out with both hands to grab your upper arms and steady you, and then he met your gaze.

Frankie couldn’t say whether it was the heat of his hands on you so unexpectedly, or the way you each shivered at the electricity that seemed to pulse from him to you. Maybe it was everything combined, years of friendship, longing and pining and then almost dying in the middle of the jungle only to come home and have you climb into his lap and sob in relief that he was home, and a million other moments in between.

But when Frankie met your eyes there in the doorway of his bedroom, he knew his expression was giving him away completely.

You were looking at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly open in surprise, whatever words you were going to say long since lost. And then he saw it, was looking right at you when your expression shifted, no longer the innocent, playful woman but instead, one who was suffering just as much as he was, longing and love and this hunger on your face he’d never seen before.

Without hesitating, without thinking or planning his next move, Frankie tugged you against him and leaned down to slot his lips over yours, taken aback when he saw you close your eyes and stretch your neck up to meet him. When your soft lips connected to his, Frankie trembled and groaned, loving the feel of your body pressed against him, the way you smelled like something tropical, how even with your perfect curves you were so small compared to him. Kissing you was everything he’d dreamed and more.

He wanted to deepen the kiss, taste you, but even as he thought it his mind jumped ten steps ahead and imagined you on his bed and he had to stop himself from getting carried away. With great effort he pulled back, first breaking the kiss and then taking several steps away, panting heavily.

“Frankie?” You were out of breath, confused, and deliciously flushed. He could see your nipples tightened against the thin fabric of your bra, goosebumps along your skin. Just the knowledge that he’d had that kind of effect on you was enough to make him want to cum in his pants right there.

“Cariño, I can’t, I’m sorry,” It was physically painful now, his hard length straining against his jeans, but he was more concerned about you, and how afraid he was to lose you. “I-I’ve wanted to do that but you gotta know, I love you. I’m in love with you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes, instead choosing to look at his feet and rubbing his hands over his face.

You approached him again, just as quietly, taking him by surprise when you spoke from just inches away. “Frankie, look at me,” It was an order, a tone you rarely used but that always worked on grounding him, and he realized you understood he was struggling right now not to break down, terrified he’d fucked up the best thing in his life in a moment of weakness. He reluctantly met your gaze, swallowing thickly as he did.

“I need you to hear me right now, okay? Tell me.”

“I’m listening,” He confirmed, heart about ready to beat out of his chest, “I can hear you.”

“Good,” And you closed the gap between your body and his, pressing your hands into his shoulders. Frankie caught his breath. “I want you to do that again, and I don’t want you to stop. Please, kiss me again, Frankie, because I love you too and I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life than I want you-“

Frankie cut you off, a growl ripping from his chest before he gathered you roughly into his arms and kissed you again, this time quickly swiping his tongue across your lips for permission to enter, and you gladly parted them for him, moaning when his tongue licked into your hot mouth. He slid one hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into your hair carefully before he pressed your face to his, needy to taste you more, to get drunk on you. Fuck, you were perfect.

When you whimpered against him, the sound almost lost in his mouth, Frankie moved, walking you back until you hit the wall and crowding you there. He ran his free hand across the bare skin of your side, heat coursing through his veins when you shuddered at his touch, keening for him. He hadn’t realized he was rolling his hips against you, his erection pressed into your stomach until one of your small hands somehow slipped between your bodies and ghosted over the front of his jeans curiously.

“Fuck,” He broke the kiss, this time simply to lower his head and kiss along your jaw, down your neck, “Sunshine, I fucking love you, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, sweet girl.” He licked the column of your throat as he moved to the other side of your face before biting gently. The sound that tore from you was so filthy he groaned again, dropping both hands to grasp your forearms.

“Frankie, fuck, don’t stop,” You were tugging at his shirt, and despite your request, he had to move back slightly to pull it over his head, his bare chest revealed to you and even though you’d seen him shirtless before, the intimacy of this time, of finally being with you after so long, made him self conscious. If you saw anything you didn’t like, you didn’t show it. Instead, you bit your lip as your hands tentatively roamed across his chest, trailing over his stomach lightly enough that he shivered. When you spoke next, you yet again took Frankie completely by surprise, your brows furrowing as your expression became more than just hungry, “Mine.”

You whispered it, but to Frankie, it was like you’d just announced it to the entire world. The possessive edge wasn’t lost on him, no, it shot straight to his core and snapped the final cords of his restraint.

“I should...I need a minute, Sunshine,” Frankie pressed his hands into the wall on either side of you, “I haven’t done anything in a long time, haven’t even cum, I don’t think I can be as sweet to you as I want to be.”

Your lust-blown eyes met his, “Why haven’t you cum?” He could hear trouble in your voice now, the not so careful way you spoke pulling dangerous images in his mind as he stared down at you, his jaw tense. When Frankie made no reply, you pressed your pointer finger to the middle of his chest, your eyes never leaving his as you slowly, lightly, moved it downward, trailing his dark hair. “Is it because you think of me? Are you that amazing that you won’t even let yourself cum because you think it’s wrong to think about me like that?”

A strangled noise was all he could respond with, his hands pressing desperately into the wall. You knew him too well, understood exactly what he’d meant without having to ask. And then you kept talking, and honestly, Frankie was floored at how dirty you suddenly were for him.

“I have to admit, you’re better than me, Frankie,” That finger trailed so slowly, closing in on his belly button now, “I’m not good like you, I think about you all the time. Especially when I touch myself, usually after I’ve spent a ton of time with you and I can’t fucking wait for a second longer. Wanna know what I picture?”

His voice was husky, a warning if ever there was one, “What did you picture, sweet girl?”

You moaned, your finger now closing in on the waist of his jeans, “You, bending me over the couch, that one is a favourite. Or waking you up with a blowjob, swallowing everything you’ve got because I know you taste delicious,” You unbuttoned his jeans now, sliding the zipper down with care, “But I think the winner, the one that always makes me scream your name, is thinking about riding you, Frankie. Climbing in your lap and just-“

Fuck, fuck he couldn’t hold back. He’d told you he couldn’t and yet you wouldn’t shut up and all thoughts of making love to you gently were out the fucking window, Frankie instead growled deeply and grabbed you by the arms, all but throwing you on the bed. You were smirking up at him, your eyes dark with lust and shining with triumph.

“Fuck, sweet girl, you wanna scream my name?” He removed his pants and briefs in one motion, his cock spring up, hard and leaking precum and you licked your lips, giving a little whimper at the sight of him. Frankie grasped himself, pumping his hand a few times as he stood over you, “Like what you see?”

“Jesus, Frankie-you need a new nickname,” You said, eyes glued to his cock, “Catfish makes no sense when you’re walking around with that fucking bat-wait!” He froze in the middle of removing his ball cap, looking at you with concern to see you bite your lip a little shyly, “Keep it on. The hat.”

Warmth spread through him at your request and Frankie replaced the hat on his head, then dropped to his knees next to the bed, his hands running up your thighs as you writhed. At your waist, he grasped the tops of your yoga pants and tugged them down, enjoying the way your body arched when you lifted your hips to help him. The only item of clothing either of you wore now was you in your bra, and fuck were you a sight.

Frankie gazed up at you from the floor in awe, his eyes roving over you hungrily as you watched him, propped up on your elbows. He started kissing up your thighs then, pushing your legs apart and spreading you, his hands kneading your flesh. “Sweet girl, you have such a pretty pussy, better than I imagined.” He moaned, biting into the soft flesh of your inner leg and drawing a whimper from you, “I can fucking smell you already, so wet and ready for me, fuck.”

“Oh god Frankie, please, touch me. I can’t wait anymore, I need you!”

“Told you,” Frankie climbed over top of you, his legs on either side of your body as he reached down and dragged you further onto the bed, his show of strength making you whimper, “It’s been a while. And you walk around here wearing my fucking clothes all the time. You don’t know what you do to me, Sunshine.” He grunted as he repositioned himself between your legs, his hands grasping the backs of them to haul your body against his, his cock pressed painfully against your thigh, “Gonna fuck you, sweet girl.” And with one careful, quick motion he thrust forward and each of you cried out at the pleasure of Frankie filling you.

“Frankie! Oh!” Your legs wrapped around him instantly, urging him as deep as possible as he split you open so deliciously. Once he was fully seated within you, Frankie dropped forward, propping himself on one arm, and cupped your face with his free hand. He looked into your eyes as he started a fast, hard pace, thrusting deep and reeling over how wet you were for him, how perfectly your velvet folds wrapped around him.

“Fuck, cariño, you’re fucking tight,” He grunted, kissing you sloppily as you threw your arms around him, hugging him close, “So tight for me, so perfect making those pretty noises, fuck.” Frankie groaned when you clenched around him as he spoke, “You like it when I tell you how perfect you are?”

“Ye-yeah Frankie, I love it. Oh, fuck!”

You were trembling now, squeezing him each time he whispered in your ear. Frankie kept up a string of praises and filthy words, taking note of the ones that had you gripping him extra hard.

He’d always had a casual enjoyment of dirty talk, nothing over the top, easy enough to shut off if it wasn’t enjoyed by the other person. But something about talking like this to you had his balls tightening that much faster, his thrusts becoming brutal.

Still murmuring in your ear, Frankie lowered his hand to your clit, experimentally rubbing, circling and pinching it to see what you liked. He was going to cum soon, and he’d be damned if you didn’t cum too. Though, as Frankie settled on circling you, both feeling and hearing how this was definitely how you liked it, his worries quickly dissipated when your hips were suddenly bucking up to meet his and you were screaming his name.

“That’s it, let go for me sweet girl,” Frankie’s thrusts were becoming increasingly sloppy as he neared the edge, “Are you-fuck, where should I?” He couldn’t even form a sentence now, he was so close and you were squeezing around him so perfectly as you closed in on your orgasm.

You understood though, your eyes meeting his as you pulled yourself together enough to reply, “Frankie, cum inside me please, please fill me up, pleasepleaseplease-“

“Fuck! H-here you go, perfect little thing!” He roared, dropping his weight over your and growling as he spilled inside you, as you bucked and writhed beneath him and screamed out, toppling over the edge and into oblivion with him. He heard himself cursing in Spanish as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his entire life, his hips slowing to continue to draw it out, still more cum filling you and you were a wreck under him, shivering and moaning.

“Yes, Frankie, yes.” You whimpered, your hands sliding into his hair-knocking his cap off-and tugging at his curls.

It took several minutes to recover, though Frankie had enough awareness to shift his weight so that you could breathe properly. Still hard inside you, he began to kiss you all over, peppering your face and neck before biting a few more marks into your neck, his tongue laving out to soothe. He enjoyed the way you whimpered when overstimulated, twitching when he pinched your nipple over your bra, squeaking his name when he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could one last time before pulling out.

Frankie collapsed on the bed next to you, then quickly tugged you into his arms and kissed the top of your head. His fear began to bubble back up now that the haze of passion was clearing, and he was starting to question every single moment that had occurred since you'd asked him if he was a tits man or an ass man.

What had he done? Was he going to lose you after this? Lose his entire reason for living for one amazing orgasm?

But it was like you could reach his mind, as only a few minutes had passed and then, with a little groan, you pulled yourself up so that you were on your elbow, looking down at Frankie. You took one look at his face and frowned, “That was quicker than I thought.”

Frankie stared at you, “What was?”

“I guessed it would take more than two minutes for you to start regretting this.”

Sighing, he pulled himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. You followed, but crossed your legs and shuffled next to him. “I meant what I said, I love you,” Frankie explained, rubbing a hand over his face, “I love you so much, so fucking much it hurts. But the idea of messing this up is terrifying me, Sunshine. I don’t think I could lose you, I think it would kill me.”

“Frankie,” You crawled over him, straddling his hips and settling into his lap. You cupped his face firmly, looking into his eyes. Your expression was open, warm and vulnerable and a little incredulous, “You aren’t going to lose me, not ever. I want this-I want you, and everything you come with, okay?”

Though his heart was soaring, Frankie still worried, shaking his head, “I come with a lot of dark baggage, sweet girl. Not to mention the age difference.”

“Jesus, Frankie, do you really think I don’t know what I’m saying when I tell you I’m all in?” You asked him, not waiting for an answer before continuing. “I love you. Can I tell you when I knew?”

Frankie peered at you, his hands coming to hold your waist as he nodded.

“The boys trip.” You stated, using the term each of you agreed upon when referencing his three-week disappearance to Columbia. “When you first left, I knew something was off but I trust you, so I didn’t question it. But then after a few days, with no word from you, I started to really worry,” You paused, momentarily lost in thought, eyes dark now with the painful memory of his absence and the little information you’d come to learn about it since. “Did I ever tell you I booked a ticket to Columbia?”

This caught Frankie off guard because you most certainly had not told him that, “What, are you serious?”

“Yep. Booked it for the day after you ended up calling me. I don’t know what I was planning to do, but I knew you were there and, even if you were dead, I needed to be as well.” You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks, “After you called, and I knew you were alive and coming home, I realized that the way you said it meant you almost didn’t make it home, and I knew you weren’t saying something. I hung up and sat in my room for a minute and it occurred to me that you could have died and I would have never seen you again. That was when I knew it wasn’t just a crush.”

Heavy emotion filled his chest, rendering him unable to immediately respond. Frankie gathered you close and stood, clutching you against him and carrying you into the bathroom. He set you on the toilet before turning to his massive soaker tub and switching it on, fully intending on spending the rest of the night in there with you. When he turned around, you were carefully tidying yourself up. With a grunt, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under warm water before kneeling in front of you and taking over.

“Why didn’t you say anything? After I came home, I mean.” His tone was light, as he didn’t mean to come across as accusing you of anything-it’s not like he had said anything to you. Good-natured as you were, you simply smiled at him, a little sadly.

“Too afraid, right at first,” You admitted, your eyes fluttering shut as he took care of you with the warm washcloth, “But when you came home you were a fucking wreck, Frankie. You lost your friend, Santi didn’t come back with you either, and Will and Benny had the same expression on their faces whenever I saw them. You saw some shit, did some shit, I don’t know and I’ll be real here, I don’t need you to ever feel like you should tell me what exactly happened. But after the first day you were back, I could see how much it changed you and I thought it would be selfish to tell you how I felt and add more emotional bullshit onto your plate.”

Frankie continued to kneel in front of you after tossing the washcloth into his laundry hamper. For a moment, the only sound in the room that of the tub filling. He stared into your eyes, seeing only how truthful you were being, how incredibly kind. He had never realized how completely he could love someone until he met you.

“I thought about you the entire time I was gone.” He admitted before carefully standing and checking the temperature of the water. He added a bath salt mixture that you’d bought a while ago, claiming it was a gift when really you were the one to use them, locking yourself away for hours to soak because you didn’t have a tub at your place. He shut the water off and held his arms out for you, which you eagerly stepped into and allowed him to guide you both into the water.

Once settled, your back against his chest, you replied. “Your face when you came home, I’ll never forget your expression.” His legs were on either side of you, and you began to lazily trace along his right thigh as both of you fell into your painful memories of his ill-fated trip.

Frankie sighed sadly, “I’m sorry I ever left, Sunshine. I never should have left you,” He tightened his grip around your waist under the water, one hand spread flat across your stomach, “It was just...fuck, everything went bad straight from the start. We had a moment of luck and then it was like nothing could go right. And I don’t know, I’m fucking gutted that Tom is gone, but it’s worse that Santiago won’t come home. He’s like my brother, and he blames himself for everything.”

Frankie knew you had no idea what he meant. You knew he and the guys were former special ops that served together, but when Santi had asked him to go to Columbia Frankie had only told you the basics-the country, who he would be with, that he might not have a lot of chances to call, and that it would be about a week. Santi had picked him up and you had been there to see him off that morning, and his friend had casually referenced a ‘boys trip’ while speaking with you as Frankie loaded his shit in the back.

Of course, you weren’t stupid. You worked with the VA, met a lot of former service members who ended up contracting out their skills after retiring or leaving due to injuries or lifestyle changes. And you knew Frankie, understood him like no one ever had before, which is why as he gave you further details you didn’t flinch or freeze up, you simply listened. When Frankie had gone quiet for a while, you eventually turned to gaze up at him over your shoulder, your cheek on his chest.

“From what I could tell,” You began slowly, your words cautious, “Whatever you did, what happened, you all put it aside to get Tom’s body home to his family. And considering the type of work Santi was doing out there for three years before he came here to ask you guys to join him, I figure you all must have almost died a few times each, probably took out some terrible men along the way.”

Frankie had to bite back his sob, turning his face away from you to stare, ashamed and remorseful at the wall. You reacted quickly, pulling yourself up and turning over, your naked body pressing over his as you grabbed Frankie’s head and gently turned him to look at you. “Baby,” You cooed, your eyes shining with concern, “Don’t do that, don’t hide from me.”

That was all it took. Frankie let the sob out and the relief of it was instantaneous, so much so that he let out another, then another, all while you held him and murmured soft, sweet words and pressing chaste kisses to his cheeks, his forehead, along his jaw. It didn’t last long, he’d cried so many times over everything that had gone down, but this was the first time you had revealed you sort of had an idea of what they had been up to, and you were still supporting him and loving him and it was all very overwhelming.

A short time later, Frankie wiped his eyes and shot you a grateful look, hoping you could sense how much he appreciated you. You settled into the water again, knees pulled to your chest as you faced him and trailed your hands comfortingly up and down his chest. “Sunshine,” He whispered, catching one hand and holding it against his heart, “I love you, thank you for being so fucking incredible.”

He tugged you closer, joining you in laughing when a little water sloshed up over the edge of the tub as you landed against him. You snuggled close and kissed him, your fingers carding into his curls and holding him steady. When Frankie took you to bed that night, there were no pillows between your bodies, not a shred of clothing separating you. He held you close, falling asleep faster than he had in years.

And for the first time in Frankie’s life, he felt whole and complete, like nothing could ever bring him into darkness again, not when he had you, literal sunshine, lighting his existence.

PART TWO

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@mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711

[goldentournesol]

Double Whammy

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Reader gets a nasty cold and is on her period at the same time, so Spencer takes care of her.

Length: 2.6k

A/N: thank you for the request @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ ! I enjoyed writing this one, IT’S SO FLUFFY! 

masterlist

Sometimes, the stars align and something favorable happens. Other times, the stars want nothing to do with each other and every possible thing that less than favorable happens. Unfortunately, the latter had been Y/N’s case for the past two days. She’d been fighting off a nasty, terrible cold. She didn’t get sick often, but when she did, it felt like her body’s main goal was to punish her for not being careful enough rather than heal itself. Her bones ached and her nose was blocked in a way that made her feel as though she’d never breathe properly again. On top of all that, her uterus made sure to be as unforgiving as possible as the dreaded time of the month rolled around. She could barely keep her eyes open as her body fought through the exhaustion that came with the double-whammy.

It was around 4 in the afternoon and Y/N had barely left the bed at all. She wished for some type of relief from her cramps but it just wasn’t coming. Her migraine wasn’t helping her out either. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had any water to drink. 

“Hello?” She croaked into the phone with a heavy cough. It came as a surprise to her that she even managed to let out a single word, although it sounded more like ‘bellow’ than ‘hello’.

“Y/N! How are you feeling today, my love?” Spencer’s chipper voice boomed through the speaker. 

“Not much better to be honest.” She murmured into the phone which was laying on the pillow that Spencer slept on, barely able to keep her puffy eyes open.  He heard her blow her nose and she uttered a small apology, knowing that must not have been pleasant to hear over the phone. He felt his heart twist in his chest, knowing she was feeling so under the weather and not be able to make her feel better.

He was currently on a case somewhere in the deserts of California. She hadn’t caught the cold yet when he left. She knew that he would have stayed with her if she’d caught it before he left, which would have made her feel like the biggest burden there was and she also knew that her boyfriend wasn’t the type to take no for an answer.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But, I have great news. We closed the case, I’m getting on the jet now. I should be home in no time.” He says softly and she can feel a small smile fighting its way onto her face.

“That’s great, Spence…” she trailed off, losing more energy by the second, “Get home safe, love you.” 

“Love you more.” Spencer hung up and felt his shoulders drop in defeat before making his way back to his team as they climbed onto the jet. The guilt he felt for leaving her alone was overwhelming. He should be there for her, making her feel better. He knew she hated asking for help, but he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d taken care of herself at all. He guessed he’d find out soon enough.

It felt wrong walking in and finding their apartment void of any light or sound. Usually, there was some sort of noise or light coming from either a TV or a phone. He quietly made his way over to the bedroom and heard her snores. He sighed in relief, knowing she was at least resting. Spencer made his way over to the kitchen and figured she must have been starving. There was no evidence of any food or drink anywhere. He wondered when the last time she ingested something was. 

He made a quick call to Rossi, unsure of his cooking skills. He checked the fridge and pantry for the necessary ingredients and attempted to make chicken noodle soup with whatever they had available. He yawned as he cut up the vegetables, but quickly fought the sleep to continue cooking. He heard her soft snores stop and he peeked his head into the dark room again.

“Spence?” She managed to say softly, the thick covers muffling her voice. 

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m here.” He smiled as he approached their bed and turned on the lamp by their bedside. She winced at the sudden brightness and he quickly tried to block the light with his body to provide her eyes with some relief. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly as he took a seat at the edge of the bed. He took in her puffy eyes and red nose and wondered how she could still look so cute. Her bottom lip jutted out slightly and shook her head.

“I feel like absolute shit.” She mumbled and his heart dropped in his chest.

“Have you had anything to eat...or drink?” He bit his lip, already knowing the answer. She shook her head again softly, almost guilty. 

“Alright, I’m making you some soup. I think a hot shower will make you feel a lot better, Y/N/N. Come on, out of bed.” he tried to coax her with his hands. She only peered back at him over the duvet with tired eyes and small hands that wrapped around the edge of the duvet, Spencer found himself reveling in her adorable appearance and feeling bad about ruining her comfort, but he knew she probably stayed in bed all day. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her when she didn’t move. He smiled with relief when she didn’t fight him as he gently pulled back the covers from over her. 

“Come here, baby.” He motioned for her to come closer into his embrace. She slowly wrapped her arms around him and he lifted her out of bed, her legs locking behind his waist. He heard her sniffle into his neck as he carried her to the bathroom, he didn’t know whether she was crying or if it was just from the cold. He was too good to her, she didn’t know what she did to deserve such a compassionate partner, but she thanked the universe for allowing her to have him. Perhaps a tear or two managed to slip out of her eyes and into Spencer’s hair. Spencer turned his head slightly to press a kiss to her temple, murmuring into her hair, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He set her down as gently as he could and began to run the hot water.

“Okay, this should be perfect for decongesting your nasal pathways and loosening up the phlegm--” he stopped himself, knowing her head was probably pounding, “The soup should be ready by the time you finish your shower. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.” He squeezed her shoulders and she sent him a tearful smile. 

As he closed the bathroom door, he took notice of a red patch of blood on the bed sheet on the mattress. He hastily checked his phone for the date and realized that her monthly visitor would be in fact--visiting. Spencer’s heart wrenched yet again as he could only imagine how horrible she really felt at the moment. He didn’t hesitate to change the sheets and clean the mattress of any remnants before neatly restoring order to the bed. He wanted to make sure she was taken care of, especially since he’d been away for so long. 

Somehow, he’d lost track of the pot that was currently boiling over the stove. He rushed to it, thankfully catching the pot right before it overflowed. He brought a spoon up to his lips and immediately winced at the lack of flavor. Spencer added some salt and continued to stir as he heard soft footsteps behind him. Y/N hugged his waist from behind silently and smushed her face against his back. Spencer smiled widely as he took the soup off the heat and swiveled around to wrap his arms around her. She noticed that he’d changed the sheets and made the bed and she honestly thought she was about to cry again.

“I missed you.” She mumbled into his shirt. Spencer kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back.

“I missed you way more. I’m so sorry for being away while you’ve been--” He began to apologize but was interrupted by her frantically shaking her head.

“No, no, no. Don’t apologize. I’m just glad you’re back.” The words barely made it past her lips, her voice hoarse. She lifted her head from his chest to gaze at him and they both adoringly stared at each other for a bit too long. He reluctantly pulled away from the embrace to ladle some soup into a bowl while it was still hot. He made himself a bowl as well since he hadn’t had any dinner. She sighed heavily as she sat at the kitchen table.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, setting the two bowls down.

“I...I don’t feel like eating.” She pouted again, Spencer knew this was the cold talking. 

“I don’t think you want to hear me list the benefits of soup when you have a cold.” Spencer teased, even though he knew she loved his info-dumps. She rolled her eyes playfully, smiling at him. “Besides, you haven’t eaten or drank anything in...judging by the color of your tongue and lips, around 16 hours. You need something in your system so you can take some medication to make you feel better, sweetheart.” He said as he hungrily spooned soup into his mouth. It really wasn’t that good, but it’d do the job.

She nodded, giving in and taking her first spoonful of soup. She giggled right after it.

“I know it’s not that good.” Spencer laughed.

“I didn’t say that!” She laughed back at him. She was happy to finally get out of the rut she was in and who would be able to do that better than Spencer? “Honestly, Spencer, it’s pretty good.”

“If you say so.” He grinned and took her hand over the table. They sipped their soup in a comfortable silence and she even got up to ladle a second helping of soup. It was the first thing she’d eaten in a while and her stomach appreciated the warmth.

“Do you need me to get you anything from the store?” he asked later as he put both their dishes away. He brought her some medicine for her cold and a cup of water, motioning for her to take them. He also made sure to make her some chamomile tea to help ease the cramps.

She nodded sheepishly, taking the medicine, “Chocolate.”

He laughed, fully expecting the response. “Alright, how about you set up a movie and drink your tea? I won’t take long.” He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead and walked towards the door.

“Spencer!” She called after him, sniffling again and wiping at her nose.

“Yeah?” He called back, slipping on his shoes.

“I also need pads!” She reminded him and he laughed.

“Okay, anything else?”

“Yes! I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He grinned as he made his way to the store.

She grabbed her cup of tea and plopped down onto the couch, setting up a movie that wouldn’t agitate her headache. As Spencer promised, he was back quickly. He changed into something comfortable and made his way over to the couch with her chocolate in his hand. She smiled gratefully as she unwrapped it and devoured half of it. Spencer could only watch with adoration.

“How is it?” he asked, watching her lick the corner of her lips, trying to get all the chocolate she possibly could.

“It’s the best thing I’ve had all day, Spence.” She threw herself in his arms, her head resting soundly on his chest, “Besides this, of course.” Spencer smiled as wide as he could as he rubbed her back. She pulled her head off his chest to stare at him in wonder.

“I will never get over how lucky I am to have you.” She whispered softly and Spencer resisted the tears threatening to rise in his eyes. He just sent her a watery smile and shook his head in disbelief, not trusting his words. He had no idea where he would even begin to describe how lucky he felt to have her. She placed a soft hand on the side of his neck to pull his cheek closer to kiss it, she would have kissed his lips but she didn’t want him to get sick. Her fingers threaded through his hair as she admired him. At this point, the movie was long forgotten, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to watch it.

“Hm, it’s getting long.” She twirled a piece around her fingers. Spencer nodded as he stared back at her.

“Do you...want to braid it?” He asked tentatively, instantly noticing how her face beamed at the idea. She’d always asked him if she could braid it for him but he always refused. But looking at her now, he’d let her do anything she wanted, especially if it meant making her feel better.

“Really?! You mean it? You’re not just offering because you pity me?” She squeaked excitedly.

“Well...that’s only part of it.” He laughed and rolled his eyes. She gasped and got up to walk to their bedroom to get a comb and some hair ties. This was the most energized she’d been since Spencer had seen her and he wasn’t about to deny that seeing her excited made it worth whatever was about to happen.

“Okay, you’re gonna have to sit on the floor. You’re too tall for me.” She said as she took her seat on the couch. Spencer moved to the floor and sat down between her legs. Her fingers threaded through his mop of curls and he instantly relaxed at her touch. She began to gently comb through his tangles, careful not to hurt him. He really didn’t mind, it brought him inexplicable peace, especially after a long day.

“Are you gonna fall asleep on me now?” She teased as she noticed his closed eyes and the way his head felt heavier against her hands.

“Mmm, I might.” He hummed.

She giggled and separated his hair into four sections, French braiding each one. It was nice to have a distraction. The only thing keeping Spencer’s head propped up was her knee and she thought he genuinely fell asleep until he felt the absence of her fingers in his hair.

“Are you done?” He asked quietly, his hand coming up to feel the braids. He took it as a yes when she didn’t smack his hand away. “Y/N, they feel so cool. I have to see.” He got up from his spot with a grunt and went into the bathroom to check himself out.

“I don’t think it suits me.” He laughed, unconvinced at his appearance. He brushed his teeth while he was at it. She laughed and shook her head in response, getting ready for bed as well.

“I personally think you look great! You should sleep with them in and we can see what your hair will look like in the morning.” She tried to reason with him, she just really didn’t want him to take them out so soon. He shook his head at her once again and turned the TV off with a huge yawn.

“Come on, Spence, let’s get in bed.” She grabbed his hand and took him to the bed. They instinctively wrapped their arms around one another.

Spencer whispered in her ear, “Are you feeling any better, sweetheart?”

She nodded against him, “Thank you, Spencer. I love you so much.” He smiled.

“I love you, more. Goodnight, Y/N.” She was already out like a light before she could respond.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Have you ever had a computer virus before? Not with any of my Apple laptops, which I’ve been getting for over 10 years now. Prior to that, I did have a few issues with viruses. Not fun.

Are you dependent upon anyone? >> Of course. Everyone’s dependent on someone, even if only indirectly. <<< True. I’m also very dependent upon my family, especially my mom.

Are there any book characters you’d like to portray? Uh, I don’t want to portray any character. I’m definitely no actor.

Who did you last text? My dad.

Is there anything on your bed right now? Yeah, several pillows, my bedsheets, my throw blanket, a few stuffed animals, a coloring book, a couple sets of colored pencils, two little pencil sharpeners, a little notebook, a book, an Nintendo Switch, my laptop, my phone, the chargers for aforementioned electronics... lol my bed is also my desk since I spend majority of my time in bed.

When was the last time you went to the grocery store? Back in early March. Prior to this quarantine/lockdown, I went with my mom twice a month. Since all that began, she’s just been going. We’ve been using the online order thing. What way would you like to die when it’s your time? Peacefully.

What are you most afraid of in the world? Death, diseases, violence, losing loved ones... Have you ever been caving? No.

Do you do well in math related things? Noooo. Me and math never got along.

What is your favorite fruit? Bananas. 

If you had to choose, which sibling would you live with? My younger brother and I already live in the same house.

Do you have any tattoos? Nope.

Are you planning on getting any in the near future? No.

When was your last date? Four years ago.

When did you get Facebook? Sometime in 2008.

What was your first pet’s name? Buster.

Are you good when it comes to computer issues? Uhh, depends what the issue is. If it involves the hardware itself then no.

Are there any people at your job who absolutely hates you? No job.

What was the last book you read? Don’t Tell by Willow Rose. I’m just starting, The Girl and the Hunt by AJ Rivers, which is the 6th book in a series.

Have you ever read any books in one day? Yeah, several.

What was the last thing you bought? A couple shirts and masks from Young and Reckless. The masks are black and say, “Keep your distance.” The shirts are black and say that as well in tiny font on the upper right side and on the back it says, “Thank you for staying away” in big font. I got one for my mom as well because it seemed like the perfect shirt for her to wear to work lol.

What are your plans for tomorrow? Nothing out of the ordinary.

Is there any jewelry you wear constantly? Nope. 

Are your fingernails painted at the moment? Nope.

Do you prefer cool, warm or neutral colors? >> I like a variety of colours for different reasons. <<<

Have you ever taken art classes? Just an art history class in college.

What’s the most boring movie you’ve ever seen? Hmm. I’m blanking.  Do you know how to work a cash register? I’ve never used one.

Fact or fiction novels? I’m more of a fiction gal.

Have you ever suffered from depression? Yeah, it’s been an ongoing battle for as long as I can remember, but these past few years have most definitely been the worst. Depression won.

Do you think you’re a clingy person? I can be when it comes to my mom. 

Do you enjoy kisses on the cheek? Uhh depending on who it’s from.

Have you ever been in a physical fight before? No.

How often would you say you disagree with your parents? We definitely have our disagreements, but I don’t know how often I’d say they are. A lot of them are about the same things.

What color shirt did you wear yesterday? >> Black.

Do you have a job? If so, do you like it? Nope.

Have you ever been called a slut before? I’ve had friends say it as a joke.

What’s something you’ve been craving? A day at the beach. D:

Have you ever slept with your window open? Yeah.

Can you play violin? I took lessons in 4th grade, but I didn’t enjoy it. Just wasn’t my thing. I stuck it out for the whole year, though.

What was the last desert you had? Brownies.

Have you ever had a wild animal as a pet? No.

Do you know anyone you talk to on Facebook but won’t talk to in person? No.

What color are your mother’s eyes? Brown.

Do you have a best friend? If so, how long have you been best friends? All 30 years of my life.

Do you cry easily? Yeah. Somedays I’m just on the verge of tears all day and anything can set it off. 

Have you ever been into a court room? I think during a field trip in elementary school.

How many necklaces would you say you own? Hmm. Maybe five.

Do you plan on being strict towards your children? I plan on not having children. I’m going to be 31 soon and feel strongly about not having children and I just don’t see something super drastic happening that makes me change my mind. But I’d be even older if something drastic did happen, so probably not even then. I’m meant to have doggos. (:

Do you own any tie-dye shirts? Yeah, a few.

What would you say is your favorite day of the week? They’re all the same for me, really.

Do you ever wear lipstick? I haven’t in a long time.

Do you own a pool? Nope.

Do you have a Tumblr account? Never heard of it.

Would you say you’re overweight? No. I’m actually too underweight.

How many colors are in your hair? Well, it’s mostly red, but my roots are starting to grow out. It’s not too bad, yet.

Do you flirt with a lot of people? I’m not a flirtatious person in general. If I flirt, it’s with someone I’m interested in and have been talking to. I don’t flirt with everyone or with people I don’t know.

How many bank accounts do you have? Just one.

Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? Yes.

How old are you? 30.

Do you attend church regularly? Not physically, but a local church uploads their service every Sunday to watch or listen to and I’ve been watching that even before the lockdown/quarantine. Since then, they’ve been live streaming since they can’t meet in person.

Have you ever found a song that describes your whole life? There’s a lot of songs where the lyrics just speak to me as they say and I really relate to them.

What time did you wake up this morning? I haven’t gone to bed, yet, but I assume I’ll get up sometime between 1 and 3 since that’s how it’s been the past few months.

What time do you plan on waking up tomorrow morning? ^^^

What kind of car do you drive? I don’t drive.

What kind of car would you like to have? Not something I’ve given much thought.

Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? If so, what’s your favorite thing to eat from there? Not since I was a kid. I remember liking the blizzard things.

How old did you turn on your last birthday? This is just another way of asking how old I am, which you already asked me.

Ever felt like falling apart? Oh yes. I’ve felt like I’ve fallen apart and like I’m going to fall apart, just barely hanging on. I’m always just trying to keep it together. I’m like Humpty Dumpty who couldn’t quite be put back together again.

Have you ever been in an ambulance? Yes.

Do you tend to worry a lot? Yepppp.

How old were you when you lost your first tooth? Like 6, I think.

Do you remember your first time on the internet? It was when I was 9 or 10.

Which website do you email from? Yahoo.

Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? Sure. I love getting them myself when on vacation and I’d certainly appreciate if someone brought me something from theirs.

Do you get angry with people easily? Not angry, but irritated and frustrated. 

Do a lot of people dislike you or is it the other way around? I feel like I’m just not even on the radar for most people.

Have you ever had the flu? Yes.

What about strep throat? Yes. It’s been a longggg time, though.

Have you ever been to a psychologist? No, but I need to.

What’s the worst part about school? For me it was that I just got so overwhelmed and stressed out so easily.

Do you normally have a lot of homework, if you’re still in school?

When was your last vacation? Back in early February. I can’t believe that even happened this year because quarantine/lockdown has felt like 84 years.

Would you ever consider going on a cruise? I’ve thought about it and they do sound fun, but... I don’t think I could.

What did you last buy from the store? A few Starbucks Doubleshot energy drinks.

Would you say you enjoy being single or in a relationship more? All I really know is being single, so I can’t really say for sure. I do miss being interested in someone and talking to someone in that way, though, and the very little experience I do have with dating. It’s best for me to be single, though.

Do you try to stay busy a lot? I spend my days with my usual go-to distractions. I wouldn’t call that keeping busy, though. I don’t feel like spending all day on various social media platforms, watching YouTube and TV, reading, playing Animal Crossing, and lounging is “busy” if that makes sense. I think of productivity when I think about keeping busy. To me the things I do are just distractions and things to pass the time. Just something to do, ya know? *shrug*

What’s your favorite quote? “Blah.” ha.

Do you lie a lot? I’d be lying if I said I never lie, but I’m not a pathological liar. 

Do you still act childish most of the time? I sure can be stubborn, moody, and whiny like one.

Did you ever enjoy gym class? Nope.

What is your biggest insecurity? I have a lot of insecurities. 

Have you ever painted a room alone? Nope. Or at all.

Speaking of which, when did you last paint your room? Never.

What’s for dinner tonight? I don’t know, it’s only 3 in the morning.

Do you ever drink alcohol? Nope.

Have you ever had a terrible hangover? Ugh, yes.

Do you ever get migraines? No, but I get terrible tension headaches.

Do you know how to garden? I don’t do any gardening. Not my thing.

What was the last thing you plugged into an outlet? The egg cooker thing to make hard boiled eggs.

Do people consider you to be a funny person? I have my moments.

Do you have any bad habits? Oh do I ever.

Do you like children? If not, why is this? Sure, in small doses. haha.

What is your favorite snack? Deviled eggs. Super random, but they make a delicious snack.

Do you own any gaming systems? I have a Nintendo Switch. I use my brother’s PS4 to access stuff like Netflix or watch DVDs in the living room.

How old were your parents when they had you? Early and mid 20s.

Is there a big age difference between you and the person you like? There’s no such person, currently.

Do you trashtalk people a lot? Nah, just myself.

What is the most amusing thing on the internet, in your opinion? TikTok has been pretty amusing.

Does the future excite you or scare you? It terrifies me.

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? No.

Do you try to spend a lot of time with family? I spend a lot of time with my immediate family. We’re very close, but we also live together so we’re able to do so. I don’t see my extended family very often, and not at all since the quarantine/lockdown.

How often do you shower? Every couple of days.

What would you say is your favorite genre of music? I like a variety of music.

Do you need to clean your bedroom? It could use a little straightening up.

What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I don’t know. I don’t want to keep going on like I have been the past few years... 

Do you enjoy Chinese food? I like some. I haven’t had any in quite awhile, though. I’ve actually been really wanting potstickers.

Do you smile a lot? *shrug* I give a lot of half smiles.

What is your favorite movie from the nineties? That’s tough. I love a lot about the 90s.

Which decade were you born in? The 80s, albeit halfway through the last year of the decade. 

Are you good at giving advice to people? I think I used to be. Not now.

How many huge secrets do you have? Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe I have a lot. Maybe I have none. Like the Tootsie Pop owl says, “the world may never know.” Oooh, I’m so ~mysterious.

How many people know these secrets?

How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once.

Do you ever floss? Once in awhile, but no not usually. 

Have you ever been in a long-term relationship? No.

Ever considered suicide? If so, did you try to commit suicide? Yes. No. Is there anyone out there who makes you feel completely useless? No, I do that to myself.

Do you like texting or calling people more? Text. I don’t like talking on the phone. I don’t a lot of texting either, though.

What’s your favorite band? Linkin Park will always be one of them.

Do you have a lot of friends? I don’t have any friends.

Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? I don’t paint.

Would you rather go out to eat or stay in? Oh, I’m not going out to eat anywhere anytime soon. I don’t care if dine in is slowly becoming an option again. Things are starting to open up again in phases, but please don’t mistake that to mean we’re in the clear and it’s perfectly safe to do so. We’re still very much in the midst of this pandemic. Please don’t be lax about your outings or start going all over the place. 

When did you last babysit, if ever? Not since my brother and a couple of my cousins were kids. They’re all adults now. 

Do you have any younger siblings? Yep, just mentioned my younger brother.

Have you ever thought of someone as useless? I don’t think of others that way, just myself.

Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? Yes and I do.

Do you drink vitamin water? I was super into Vitamin Water back when I was in high school. I haven’t had any in quite a long time.

Do you ever straighten your hair? It’s been a few years since I’ve straightened it myself, but when I go to get my hair done the lady who does my hair straightens it.

What’s the best way to end a conversation? Uhhh it depends? 

Are there any old movies you absolutely love? Yeah, there’s several.

Have you ever had a Big Mac before? Many times. I’ll get a craving for one every now and then.

Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? Haaaaa no, not at all.

Where is your favorite place to travel? Beachy places.

What is your goal for the next few months? Getting through the summer somehow. Next week we’re having a few triple digit weather days.... it’s not even summer, yet. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I can’t even escape to the beach this summer. D:

Can you count to ten in another language other than your own? Sí, en Español.

Do you own a lot of shoes? A few pairs.

What is your favorite season and why? Fall and winter. I just love everything about it--the cold weather, the holidays, the smells, the decor, and just the coziness of it.

Does photography interest you at all? >> Not really. I like looking at photographs other people have taken, though. <<< Yeah, it interests me in that way but I don’t have any interest in taking up photography myself.

Have you ever played on a sports team before? If you have, what was that sport and when? Nope.

Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? No.

Do you think you’re a good singer? Nope, I know I’m not. Doesn’t mean I don’t do it anyway at home to myself, though. 

Would you rather wear jeans or sweatpants? I’ve only been wearing leggings the past few years.

Do you think you have a good sense of style? I like what I wear, which is all that matters.

Do you enjoy reading often? Yes, I love reading.

Ever had food-poisoning before? Yes. Not fun.

Where did you last eat dinner at? We got Wingstop takeout last night if that counts. I haven’t physically been out to eat in months, though.

Have you ever shot a gun before? Yes, once. I went to a shooting range with friends and learned how to hold and shoot one. I don’t know what type it was exactly, but it was a small handheld. It actually made me quite anxious doing so and even just being in that environment, so yeah it was just that one time. 

[cancerousjojian]

stargazing | peter parker

summary: peter surprises you with a backyard camping sleepover. it’s all fluffy and cute.

a/n: i actually wrote about this in my fall headcannons and decided i wanted to write it by itself. hope you enjoy babes!

words: 1.5k

It felt like your day couldn’t get any worse.

You woke up, fifteen minutes behind schedule, by the way, with a pounding migraine topped off with a sinus infection. You could barely find the will inside you to drag yourself out of bed. You would have stayed home and slept in all day, probably watch some scary movies given the Autumnal mood you were in due to the weather changing.

Yes, absolutely. That is definitely how you would spend your day, had it not been for the extremely important AP English Lit presentation you were doing that day.

When you finally dragged yourself out of bed and out of the house, you immediately were greeted by pouring rain and your foot sank into a mud puddle. Just your luck.

Then, because you slept through your alarm, you missed the bus and had to walk to a block in the rain to school.

And finally, it was time for your presentation. It had to have been because you were already having a miserable day combined with the raging migraine you had, because you couldn’t focus during your presentation and completely missed what you were going to say.

To make things even worse, you didn’t get to see Peter all day because he was away at an Academic Decathlon tournament. You couldn’t text him, either, as he’s far too busy trying to memorize answers than to be on his phone.

So there you were, walking down your block on your way home from school, wiping tears away from your eyes.

It was the first day of fall, your favorite season. You’d been looking forward to it all year. The leaves that fell onto the sidewalk as you walked on it only made you more upset that you were having a bad day, as you so desperately wished to have an amazing first day of fall.

You plopped your school bag on your bed with a thud, watching your mattress bend to its weight. You fell upon your mattress too, covering your face with your pillow. You thought about all the homework you had and how much you didn’t want to do it.

Just then, your phone started ringing. It took a few rings before you had the energy to reach for it out of your bag. Upon seeing your boyfriend’s name on the phone, you quickly wiped your tears from your cheeks and answered with the best cheery voice you could muster.

“Hey, Peter.” You said, trying not to sound like you’d just been crying. That obviously didn’t work, as your boyfriend’s voice didn’t sound as vibrant as it usually was when he replied.

“Hey, babe. You okay? You sound... sick or something.”

Damn it. You forgot your sinus infection made your voice sound like you were literally dying.

“Oh, yeah, I woke up feeling like trash. How did your tournament go?” You tried to sound normal but your clogged nose proved to reign over your vocal chords once more. At least your headache was starting to go away.

“It went great! We won by one point.” Peter apologized for your sickness to which you thanked him for being so caring.

“Well I was gonna invite you over to show you something, but if you don’t feel good you don’t have to. I know you’re dying to curl up in a ball under covers and watch Netflix.” He said, earnestness in his voice. You smiled at how well he knew you.

“Actually, I’d love to come over. I’ve had the worst day ever and I just want to see you.” You felt your heart leap at the thought of seeing him.

“Okay! Can I pick you up in ten minutes?” Peter asks.

“Definitely. See you soon.”

When you hang up, you go to the bathroom to take an Advil and swig of DayQuil to alleviate the heavy feeing in your chest. You flinched at the bitter taste of the medicine.

You barely had time to change out of your drenched clothes before Peter was knocking at your door to pick you up.

On the short ride to his house, you told him all about your terrible day.

“Babe, I’m so sorry. I hope you feel better soon. We have so many fun things to do this fall!”

“I know. I’ll be better soon, hopefully.”

A lull of silence passed before Peter spoke again. “So, I have a surprise for you.”

You turned your head to him as he pulled into his garage and put the car in park. “You do? What is it?”

“I can’t show you yet. We have to wait until it’s dark out.” He flashed you a cheeky smile.

When you go inside his home, you’re greeted by a wistful looking Aunt May. “Hey, hun. Peter told me you were sick. Is there anything you want? Some tea or medicine?” She asked you in the warm voice she always possessed.

“I’ll have some tea, actually. Thank you so much, May.” You smiled at her. You loved how you always felt genuinely welcomed by her whenever you came over.

To pass the time until it was dark out, you, Peter, and Aunt May sat around the kitchen table and played card and board games. You were betting Halloween candy instead of money during poker, and you defended your title of reigning champion of Candy Land yet again. You were having so much fun, you almost completely forgot about the atrocious day you had.

Finally, after a hard loss at UNO, night fell and Peter was getting ready to show you his surprise. “Okay, don’t open your eyes until I tell you to.” He had a kind of childlike giddy in his voice that you thought sounded so adorable.

“Okay, okay,” you laughed.

Peter had his left hand holding your right one, and his other hand holding a hefty flashlight. You stepped outside to the frigid New York autumn weather, walking about ten steps before Peter stopped you by placing a hand on your shoulder. When he cued you to open your eyes, you almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

In front of you was an erected camping tent big enough for three people at least complete with a ton of fluffy blankets and snacks, and a burning campfire with two logs to sit on. You chucked in disbelief at the sight.

“Do you like it? I remember you saying once that you’ve always wanted to go camping in the country but that there are no good places to do it in Queens. I tried my best to replicate a camping site. How did I do?” Peter started rambling from his nerves. He probably took your silence as disliking his set up.

“Peter. It’s amazing. It’s adorable. You’re adorable.” You hugged him then, and the heat of his body reminded you of the chilly air blowing over your face. You felt him relax when you assured him you loved the surprise.

You and Peter both crawled into the tent, cuddling up to each other right away. The ground was surprisingly comfortable to lay on. You looked up and saw a clear panel out of the roof of the tent. “Look! We can stargaze while we’re laying in here.” You said, pointing up at the sky. You felt your boyfriend smile next to you.

“I was gonna say something really cheesy but I decided to spare you.”

You talked while still staring up at the stars, “No, say it! You have to now. Doesn’t matter how cheesy it is.”

“Well I was just gonna say that you’re the brightest star out of them all.” Peter said.

“Oh man, that was cheesy.” You said through gritted teeth, causing both you and Peter to erupt in laughter. He sarcastically thanked you for your back-handed compliment.

You repositioned yourself to become more comfortable. You laid your head in the crook of Peter’s shoulder, resting your arm across his torso. Your knee slightly rested on his calf, and his cheek laid on your head. You smiled into the position, smelling Peter’s cologne. “I love you.” You said.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He placed a gentle kiss on your head.

Not ten minutes passed before you were talking again. “Hey Peter?” You asked, shifting your eyes up to look at him.

His eyes were closed as he answered you. “Yeah?”

“I’m freezing.” You whispered this time.

“Me too. Let’s sleep inside and pretend like we slept in here.”

You laughed at his willingness to go back into the comfort of his room. “Okay, sure.” The two of you sat up and carried your blankets into the house.

“I didn’t have any WiFi out there, either. Also, like, coyotes and stuff.” Peter said, making you laugh out loud at how he seemed to value the WiFi more than his life.

You and Peter carefully settled back into his bed, but not before you took some NightQuil to aid you to sleep and alleviate your illness. You fell into the same position as last time.

“Ah, warmth.” He said, sinking into the mattress. His hand found your back and started scratching softly, making goosebumps appear on your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut at the therapeutic feeling.

“Ah, WiFi.”

Peter stifled a laugh as you giggled at your own joke, kissing your forehead yet again before you wished each other goodnight.

[willowdrabbles]

Migraines- Yutaka Tennoji short

After recent events for myself I had inspiration to do a few Drabbles for my favorite detectives! So I’ll be posting them one at a time, starting with the big misfit!

She knew the second she woke up what the day would be like. Though she hadn’t had a migraine this bad since college finals, she always remembered what they felt like.

For a while they were a weekly thing for her, having taken a golf club to the head by a neighbor kid and getting a few stitches, her head never seemed to be the same. Constantly prone to migraines since then, she knew when she was down for the count.

Grabbing her phone, she flinched at the pulsating feeling behind her eyes in reaction to the screen light. It was barely dawn, hardly anyone would be up around now. Except Kirisawa was a man of little rest, and she had no doubt in her head he would be up to answer her call.

“Hello? Kast?” Kirisawas voice was warm and quiet over the speaker, as if he wasn’t sure she was even properly awake.

“Boss.” She croaked in greeting, holding back a whine of pain as another blast of pain slammed into her skull. “I’m not gonna make it in today. Head. Pain. Bad.” She sighed at getting the words out, squeezing her eyes shut and flinching at the pain even that brought.

“Ouch, yeah you don’t sound so good Kast. Are the stitches hurting? Or something else?”

“Migraine.” She stated simply, hearing him hum in understanding.

“Alright, get some rest. Do you need anything?”

“Death. And quiet.” 

Kirisawa chuckled “Got it. Let someone know if you do need anything.” 

She made some sort of Acknowledgement and hit the end button. Holding it until her phone was completely off she tried to put it back on her nightstand. with a slap and a thud she horribly missed and her phone was abandoned to the ground. 

With another whimper she sat up in bed, feeling her head reel at the slow movement and another crashing slam to the inside of her skull, her eyes throbbing like they might jump out of their sockets from the force. 

“Oh god please no...” she muttered to herself, knowing instinctively what was coming next. With a surge of sudden energy she made a mad sprint to the bathroom and said farewell to her dinner. 

“It was good too...” she moaned, cleaning herself up as the pain subsided for a few minutes. With a quick trip to the kitchen to make an ice pack, she crawled back into the bathroom to claim as her nest for the day, feeling the aching throbbing building back up once more. 

Putting the ice on the back of her neck, she curled up on the floor, wedged as far into the side of the bathtub as she could get to let the cold seep into her skin. 

He had been anxious all day, calling her several times on his breaks and in between reports to check on his fiancee with hopes of just making sure she was alright, that she was eating and what not. Ellina never called out sick. Normally if she wasn’t feeling well he’d have to tie her to the bed. The fact she willingly stayed home on her own accord was nerve racking to him. By the eighth call that day, he was sure he was about to lose his mind. 

“Get out already Tennoji.” Kirisawa sighed, waving him off. Tennoji hesitated, looking absolutely torn between bolting for the door and upholding his duty to work. “Now, you’re getting my anxiety up watching you twitch over there. Wish her well for us.”

Tennoji finally nodded and leapt to his feet, not really hearing the snarky mutterings of his coworkers as he grabbed his stuff and quickly headed for the door. 

Blessing Ellina for caving to give him a key, he got to her apartment in record time, sprinting up the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him and blazing through the door like the building was on fire. 

“Ellina?” He called, noting that none of the lights inside were on. Tv off, no smell of any food of any kind having been cooked that day. His detective side kicked in and he was immediately scouring the apartment for her. 

“Come on this isn’t funny answer me!” He said, finding her phone on the floor next to the bed. He checked the bathroom last, hoping she wasn’t playing a prank on him and waiting to scare him. 

Sliding the door open cautiously, he instantly noticed how dark it was. A towel had been crammed into the blinds of the window, making it pitch dark. “The heck?” he muttered, flicking on the light. 

A whimper drew his eyes to the corner of the small room. Crammed next to the wall and the bathtub was Ellina, cringing away from the light and seeming to try to bury herself further. 

“Shit!” He muttered, panic filling him as he knelt over her, pulling her away from the wall to make her look at him.

“Hey hey! Ellina wake up what’s wrong?!” He gripped her shoulder, frowning as she glared at him. 

“Yutaka?” She murmured, trying to squirm away from the blinding light that made the throbbing heighten. 

“I’m right here! Hey keep talking to me, what happened is it your head? Dammit I knew those doctors didn’t know shit. Eiki should have let me talk to them. Hold on Ellina.”

“Yutaka stop...” She muttered, rolling her head back on the tile and praying for patience, or death. All she wanted was darkness and quiet. Really she should have remembered to put the chain on the door. 

“Hold on hold on, I’ll call an ambulance yeah! Shit where’s my phone....”

“Yutaka!” She snarled finally, patience gone and soaring through the window. Her hand shot up and snagged the collar of his shirt, making him yelp in shock. With strength she didn’t even know she had at the moment, she yanked him down towards her, his head making a small thud as it skimmed the corner of the bathtub. 

“Shut. Up.” She growled out. Somewhere in her mind she felt bad about him hitting his own head, but pain overruled everything else at the moment. 

“What I need.” She said every quietly and carefully, Tennoji’s eyes wide with worry and fear “Is for you to take this.” She used her free hand to grab the half melted ice pack from the back of her neck and shoved it into his chest, pleased when he grabbed it. “ Refill it with ice. And bring it back to me, and turn of the damn light. Got it?” She hissed in pain, her hand shaking as she finally let him go. Tennoji remained frozen for a moment before he nodded. 

Reaching up again and gently brushing her hand along his jaw then cheek, she pushed away his hair and offered a smile “Get some ice for yourself too.” She whispered, before going back to her fetal status in the corner. 

He did as requested silently, and she felt incredibly grateful, whispering a quiet thanks and apology when he left after delivering her ice to her once more. 

Hours later, several more stomach emptying attempts later as well, she finally felt the tightening rubber band around her brain evaporate. The sudden euphoria of painless existence making her cry tears of joy as she slowly and carefully cleaned herself up. 

Finally emerging from the bathroom, hair wet and sweatpants secure, she made a promise to herself to call Yutaka later to apologize and take him out probably tomorrow for her terrible treatment towards him. But at the moment all she wanted was water and pain free sleep. 

Though she didn’t recall leaving her living room light on. 

Dragging her gaze from the floor, she finally noticed Tennoji sitting on her couch, looking nervous as hell as he fingered the TV remote, watching her carefully as though she was about to kill over that moment. 

“H-Hey..” He said carefully, watching her sway unsteadily on her feet. For lack of better words, she looked like a zombie. Her face still pale as when he saw her earlier, her eyes narrowed at him like she struggled to see correctly. 

With a small grunt, she padded over to him and crawled across the couch, clear across and into his lap. He remained frozen as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath of his soothing scent, then collapsing half on his chest, half on his lap, with her legs still sprawled across the rest of the couch. “H-h-hey!” He muttered again, letting his arm rest across her waist. She sighed contentedly, snuggling into him. 

“H-How’s your head?” He asked softly, rubbing circles into her hip. 

“Pft. How’s your head?” She muttered back, brushing her lips across his exposed collarbone, drawing a small hiss from him before he wrapped his arms around her and laughed. “Sorry.” she said softly. 

“All good. I may have to call the police for domestic violence though, be warned.” He chuckled into her hair, pressing a kiss of his own to her forehead. 

“We are the police dummy.” She shot back, a small smile forming on her face. 

“Oh right. Well... I guess I can arrest you later. You hungry?” He pulled her closer, seeming to not really get up despite his offer.

“No... No food. I just need you right now.” She said softly, feeling herself start to doze already. 

“I-I’ll let you get away with the cheesy stuff only for today.” He said, with her face buried in his neck she couldn’t see his face, but just by the tone she could tell he was blushing madly. 

[flyswhumpcenter]

Nurse Café - Chapter 3/6: “Brain in a Daze, Stars in Your Eyes“

PREVIOUS CHAPTER / NEXT CHAPTER

Fic Summary: Life could have honesty been simpler than that for Hokuto, a second-year Liteature major. There’s, however, someone out there willing to just make it easier on him.

Fandom: Ensemble Stars! (College/Coffeeshop AU) Ships: HokuAn (Anzu/Hokuto)

AO3 version available here.

-------------------------------------

Chapter Summary: In a haze, Hokuto realizes a few things and makes a few conclusions based on said things.

Chapter Wordcount: 1.5K words

Chapter Notes: Yes, this contains that good shit we're all here for: pinning Hokke. Kind out of nowhere too, but hey, I really wanted to write about that for some reason lol. I'll blame it on the absolute goodness that is "sir, you're buying too many flowers". That'll do, yeah. This fic was meant to end with chapter 3 and, while I do have the final chapter already in the works, I decided to add shippier chunks like this one and the next chapter. I guess Enstars came back for my inspiration, haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this unplanned chapter of Nurse Café, and come around for more! I promise I know where I'm going with this, lol.

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A vague memory reached in his brain in a moment of half-consciousness. A vague, hazy memory of childhood times, of a past illness. His parents’ muffled voices, his grandmother’s smile warming back his heart left shivering. A day spent in bed, because getting up was impossible and he just felt too dizzy as soon as he tried looking up. Dad was there a lot more than usual, so was Mom, and it was weird and odd: he wasn’t used to having them near his bed so much, their hands cold against his skin, their words here to soothe him. For once, he hadn’t felt alone. The vague memory was sweet, despite its bitter undertones.

A tear was falling down Hokuto’s cheek when he eventually woke up from the daze.

 Growing back to consciousness was like reaching the surface and emerging out of the water after a long, comatose dive into a warm pool. It wasn’t exactly the worst feeling in the world, even if his head felt hot and stuffed, heavy on his neck. Even then, he still felt slightly less terrible than before, as he could actually sit up, yawning. Not the most gracious way to go about with it, but that’d have to do: he could honestly not stir more energy inside of him to be less disgraceful than that.

The place was still less than familiar, but now, he could at least put a name on it: Anzu’s flat, in the college dorms. Quickly glancing around, almost getting himself dizzy from the sudden move, she was nowhere to be found: most likely gone to attend class, like a model student. Like he should have been doing, in fact, if he wasn’t stuck there with an unfinished presentation waiting for him in his flat and… wait. Those weren’t his clothes.

 Confused yet again, he started looking around even more for answers. The curtains of the window were closed, but sunlight still sipped through them: it was daytime. On the bedside table right next to him, the precise answer figured on her alarm clock: it was already past eleven in the morning. The class he had the presentation in? Eight o’clock. Not only had he not completed his slideshow for it, he had actually somehow missed the entire thing altogether.

He glanced at his clothing. Those were cute pyjamas, sure, but they clearly didn’t belong to him. Not to mention, considering how they stuck to his skin, he’d have to wash them and give them to whomever they belonged to: Isara, he presumed, considering Anzu had been with him when he had almost woken up enough to go back home.

 Go back home. That was what he needed to do.

Too bad his legs didn’t agree and let him fall pitifully on the floor after a long moment spent contemplating his own predicament.

 Still, he rose back to his feet thanks to a chair that happened to be nearby and sat down on the bed, blinking away black spots. Okay, bad idea, he got it: there was no way he’d be able to drag himself out of this without the threat of passing out in the middle of the campus. He was also just realizing he didn’t have his phone on him: he had, in fact, left it before getting his cup of coffee on the day before. Talk about a terrible decision. Well, not that the migraine he was currently afflicted with was going to make it any easy to actually read something on said phone’s screen.

Maybe he should go take a shower… but he needed to ask for Anzu’s permission before doing so, didn’t he? He was already sleeping in her bed, that was more than enough amenities of hers he was using more or less against his will. Ah, that was inconvenient… At least, there was one relief to be found: there was still a glass, a bottle of water and some pills on the bedside table, left there, catching his stinging eye.

 This was the one thing he could do, now. Even then, his limbs were still heavily lethargic, so he was slow and clumsy with his hands. Downing a couple pills was absurdly difficult for him, despite how simplistic the gesture seemed in his mind. He was pathetic, this much was clear, but falling back on the bed after just drinking a glass of water was absolutely pitiful for someone his age and constitution. He may have just woken up and tried doing something with his day, and yet, all he wanted to do was going back to sleep…

Still, he should get moving… He felt uneasy staying here for much longer, as close as he was to giving up and falling back asleep. The bitter aftertaste lingering in his mouth made him miss konpeito and, at this point, he’d rather have passed out than having to bear tears coming to his eyes. Why was he feeling so lonely, all of a sudden? He had been alone for so long, he didn’t need to cry like a child over being left on his own for legitimate reasons and—

“Ah, good morning, Hokuto! Are you feeling any better?”

 His throat immediately went dry, knotting. He wiped his eyes as quickly as possible and went back to sitting somewhat properly.

“G-good morning, Anzu,” barely managed to make it out of his throat.

He observed her, vaguely following along, when the world was spinning all around her smiling self as she went to pick some things from another room (the bathroom, he assumed. He had never been to her place before this whole fiasco happened, it was difficult to tell which room was which or even how many rooms there were). Her presence made his mind feel better, soothing the sudden affliction he got hit with merely minutes before.

 Time’s course was also severely disturbed and hindered by the heat in his head, so he couldn’t truly give an estimate of how little time she had spent in another room before coming back, sitting on the chair while humming a familiar song. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have assumed she found this stuff fun. That made no sense, though, considering he was noting but disgusting at the moment, so he brushed it off as his fever messing up with him.

Which, in itself, was a convenient thought to have right as she took it again, putting a hand under his bangs. Her palm was cold, like Grandma’s had been all those years ago; and, just like Grandma, Anzu didn’t seem bothered in the slightest by how soaked they were. Just realizing this made him want to bawl in his grandmother’s arms again, but he needed to keep at least a tiny bit of his dignity and, as such, opted to swallow his pride instead.

 “Thirty-nine point one…” Anzu whispered to herself as she stared at the thermometer. “You’re far less warm than yesterday, but it’s still not good either. At least, your fever’s broken, that’s a relief already.”

He missed her hand as soon as it was gone from his forehead, yet didn’t feel like adding anything to the conversation: he had, honestly, very little energy to begin with and didn’t feel like wasting her time listening to some feverish rambling about whatever his brain was still in a decent condition to emit.

“You should stay here for another day, don’t you think? Maybe just this evening, if you get better during the day. You still look really tired.”

It was odd to let her do all the talking, considering how quiet she usually was, but this he didn’t mind: in fact, her voice was the one sound that didn’t grate against his pounding head, not unlike a cushion whenever everything else was there to worsen it. To be fair, she was purposely keeping it low; or so she seemed, to him, at least.

“Mao had the idea yesterday, but we still wanted to ask you. Can I go to your place and get some of your stuff? I’m sure you’d like to have your own clothes around!”

“Sure…”

 Anzu went back to her feet, grabbing something lying on a nearby table. Most likely his flat key, but his unfocused eyes couldn’t really tell from this distance. At least, the world had stopped spinning all around him, it was enough of a satisfaction for now.

“Ah, before I leave you for a couple minutes,” she turned back to him, still smiling, “do yourself a home. I’ll be at work this afternoon, but I should be back by six. See you later, Hokuto.”

“I…” In the end, his resolve to leave had crumbled away again. “See you later…”

 As the door closed behind her, he was left dumbfounded. The balm on his heart had started to go cold once again, leaving him melancholic and teary-eyed. He knew about how moody he could get whenever he was tired or sick, but being both at the same time was making nothing easier, and he decided he’d finally give this shower a shot.

It was that or falling back into bed and contemplating his own boggling, confused feelings anyway; and he wasn’t ready just yet to admit to have fallen for someone this way.

[umihoshi-art]

Witch Story Chapter 2

( Chapter 1 here )

Chapter 2 A rough start “Any news?” Amand held his coat in one arm. Both having just put it off and also ready to wear it again to head out. Opposite of the dimly lit room stood Queen Alice, her back to him, as she gazed out of the panorama window. She came to this tower more often to gaze upon Salem and think. There was little left of the gallant smile she wore at the party. She looked cold and deep in thought. “None.” she replied plainly, without averting her gaze from the scenery. Amand sighed diminished. “Where could she be?” He muttered to himself and walked up to stand next to the queen and look out the window. He saw the queen was holding a white rabbit. Nothing new to him. If she was not at any formal occasion, she would always carry this rabbit around and stroke it rhythmically. The bunny always seemed rather on edge. As if dreading what those slender pale hands could do in an unguarded moment. An effect Alice had on any living organism, honestly. Amand was perhaps the only person who could get this close to her majesty. Not so much because of his position, but more so his ignorance to the fear-inducing aura that Alice continuously emitted. ‘You’d need at least that amount of recklessness to hang around either of the Grimalkin sisters’, he always thought. But where Evangeline was an open book, Alice was impossible to read. Her stature was both composed and refined, no matter the occasion. 'A curious woman’, Amand mused to himself quite often. Even after having spend the majority of his life with Eve, Alice was barely around. Even before she became the queen, she was already reserved and always studying. He knew very little of her, even to this day. It intrigued him. And so, he could not resist to search for the borders of her patience, from time to time. “You seem awfully calm. Even though she’s your sister.” He implied. But the only response he got out of her was her closing her eyes and a smooth reply: “You as well, my dear brother. Even though she is your fiance.” Amand laughed a little uncomfortable. “Touche, your majesty.” They were both silent for a moment, before Amand continued: “That said, I’m actually really worried… it’s just easier to not show.” “Then you should also know how I feel.” the queen replied. Though Amand doubted these words. Alice didn’t seem to just mask her feelings, at least not the way Amand did. What was Evangeline to her majesty? Then again, as the Hermus Tresmegistus, the most powerful magician currently in living, she is probably more adapt to stress then anyone. “Before I’m off again, shouldn’t we hold a council meeting on this?” he asked, burying his previous thought for now. “That will not be needed.” Alice spoke resolute and curt. “Someone very capable is already on the move….”

It had been a long while since Evangeline had dreamed so wild and vivid. She figured the thief must have used something different from chloroform, since people don't normally dream when knocked out. Then what did he use? Could he do magic? Was he a witch? Then why would he steal from witches? She couldn't lay her finger on what the dream was about. Something from her childhood? Something about Alice? As she started to wake up bit by bit, she lost her grip on the fragments. But it felt like it had been something very important...... Evangeline opened her eyes and felt rather disorientated for a few moments. Closing her eyes again, she could at first only listen. She was somewhere very quiet. Back in the inner city that never sleeps, there were always sounds of buzzing crowds and vehicles. Shouting children, music, boats, things alike. But where she was now, it was dead silent. Yet after she gained a bit more focus, she could hear that wasn't quite so: She could hear the gentle blowing of the wind. A branch teasingly rasping past the window. She could even hear a few birds singing their song and the low ticking of a clock. Also, some small noises she couldn't really place. A sort of rustling pitter patter. She made another attempt to open her eyes and saw a white canopy above her head. She was laying on a bed. It was by far not as soft as the bed she's used to, but that was actually quite nice for a change. Evangeline secretly always hated sinking away so deep that she was hardly able of getting back up by herself. She turned her head to inspect the room. It was a really simple room, but it was clean and neat. Next to the bed, there was a small night cabin, a washing table, an old brown chair and a large white closet. There was a small window and Evangeline could see trees for as far as the eye could reach. “Forest in the middle of nowhere. Classic.” She muttered and held her head, feeling a pang of nausea and migraine well up. “Good morning. I see you're up.” she heard a voice coming from her right. She glanced over and the thief who had kidnapped her was leaning against the doorpost like he owns the place. (well, he does...) Still wearing the entire thief get-up and creepy birds mask, he looked terribly out of place in a homey space like this bedroom. “The 'good' part's debatable.” She rubbed her brow annoyed. “If you have energy to have backtalk, you seem fine to me.” “Maybe. But I'd feel all the better if you'd take me back home.” She retorted, not taking any of his remarks. “I plan to. As soon as possible, in fact. The less you know and shouldn't, the better.” She noticed he was holding his left arm for a bit. Did he wound it? Evangeline quite easily felt compassion or pity, but for now she could only think getting away would be easier if he could use only one arm. Then again, he was saying he'd bring her back... She swung her legs over the end of the bed and sat up, looking at him skeptically. “Then why did you get me here in the first place?” she asked. “It was either this or ripping your dress in front of a crowd. I may be a thief, but I have an image to keep. Who's brilliant idea was it to sew that necklace to your chest?” “Not mine??” In fact, why was it? It hadn't been stuck during the ceremony. So did it happen somewhere after it? She fondled the jewel. She could just move it around no problem. Strange... Had it been some anti-thieving spell? Then who placed it? Someone of security, maybe? Well, if that had been the case, it sure as hell backfired. Evangeline was in a whole lot more trouble now. The thief noted how the girl could move the necklace and asked: “Can you untie it?” She probably could. But it didn't take away that this jewel was an important heirloom to her. “Why would I?” she spoke rather hostile. “To hand it over.” “How about no?” “Why?” She glared at him. What an idiot. “Why would I give something important to some shady stranger? One who kidnapped me. And in a ridiculous outfit that gives me the shivers! You have no taste and are plain creepy.” Less annoyed then she thought he would be, he tilted his head and said: “What choice do you have?” Calm, but there was a slight undertone of threat in it. Evangeline hesitated to think of something, anything in her defense. “....I could stab you.” “With?” Evangeline couldn't think of anything at the moment, but she tried keeping her act of not being intimidated. “We'll have to see about that, won't we?” she smiled cocky. The thief didn't reply. Because of that stupid mask, there was no telling what expression he wore. But from his demeanor, Evangeline guessed he smirked in a patronizing way. Back at the party, he had just smiled without a word as well. He was a mystery. How could this be the same person? How could she have trusted him?? “I'm a gentleman,” yeah sure, “so I won't force it off you. But I can't let you go until you hand the artifact over.” He called it 'artifact'. Did he know of it's use? Does that mean he wasn't just stealing because they're jewels? Saying it like that made Evangeline curious to what the man was up to, but “I refuse.” and she continued: “I'll scream really loud.” The plague doctor sighed. “Will give me a headache at best. There's no one around in the next few kilometers.” 'That's a shame,' she thought and clicked her tongue, but went straight on to her next defense. Right, she had her trump card, even if it was a bluff: “I'm a witch. Who knows what I could do?” But that too, didn't seem to impressed him. “And you haven't yet, because?” “Well, maybe I just didn't know a useful spell for the situations?” “Fair enough,” There was a thick layer of skepticism in his voice, “But it will do you no good. If you kill me here, you won't know how to get home. Bottom line, nothing can be done then handing the stone over.” He continued: “Knowing your kind, you never left Salem. You know absolutely nothing of the world outside.” Again that patronizing ring in his voice. Evangeline huffed upset. “How insulting! It's just a few kilometers! It'll take a while, but I'll manage just fine!” “A while in which you have no food, water or means to know your direction. Face it, it won't work.” The thief seemed to need a moment to collect his mind and calm down. Evangeline was winning terrain, though she didn't get what about her finding her way back or not was getting to him. “I won't harm you...” He had found his cool back. “But until that jewel is destroyed, you won't be going back any time soon.” She clasped her hands over the jewel and gave him the cold shoulder. “I'm not handing it over.” It was silent for a moment. A kind of pressuring quiet in which either wouldn't yield. The Plague Doctor was the one to break the stalemate in the end: “.....very well. Then I'll let some time pass before persuading you once more.” He was planning to leave her be, then. But Evangeline was a sore loser. She hadn't played all her cards at hand yet and she wasn't going to just let him leave so easily. “I will cry.” She spoke dignified and cold. The Plague doctor raised his shoulders and dared reluctant: “Then cry.” After staring at each other for a moment, Evangeline's eyes welled up and tears started falling down her cheeks in a rapid tempo. Not in the slightest concerned, the thief commented: “You'd do well as an actress.” But Evangeline's tears wouldn't stop coming. She started sobbing and at some point wondered herself if she was really still faking it. She bit her quivering lip and made herself small. Her big golden eyes were puffy and her cheeks flushed with sadness. The thief let her be like that for a while, but in the end he sighed in defeat and handed her a handkerchief. “Look.” He was holding back his temper the best he could. Or rather, a sense of distress. “I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Preferably, I'd have you back before nightfall... But I CAN'T let you go when you have that jewel! That thing is dangerous and it'd be better for you to not have it at all!” Calm and gracious, Evangeline took the handkerchief and without a single crack in her voice she asked quite plainly: “And why is it dangerous?” Evangeline could almost literally hear a vein pop with her captor, a true moment of euphoria to her. The man heaved a sigh that Evangeline fondly likes to call the 'sigh of suppressed seething rage'. But he collected himself disappointingly fast and bowed for her courteously. “Do excuse my late introduction. I am who they call 'the Plague Doctor'. And as it is, I'm out to steal certain gems like the one you're holding. That isn't just any stone that would fetch a pretty price on the black market. The Artifact stones of the numerous witch families hold a force that grands them immensely wicked powers. Powers that are far too easily abused and should not be messed with. As we speak, witches from all over the land use this power for their own greed and sadistic enjoyment to needlessly torment human lives for the sole reason that they hold no magic to fight them. In the wrong hands, that stone would be responsible for the deaths of 1000's of innocents.” Evangeline couldn't help herself and sputtered a laugh. “Excuse me??” He sounded ridiculous. What did he want her to do with all that information? This was so surreal. But the Plague Doctor wasn't about to tell her it was a joke and she was supposed to laugh. He stood tall and dark in front of her. He whispered beneath his breath: “..I knew it....” “Knew what?” Evangeline stopped laughing abruptly and got an eerie feeling of the sudden change in his behavior. Quite the unsettling change. Evangeline had maybe only ever felt her sister be this pressuring. The thief spoke in an icey voice: “Yeah... You're a witch afterall. Is the death of 'beings below you' something to laugh about? Is someone standing up to 'higherups' that kill on a whim, funny to you?” His voice was calm as ever. But it felt like his voice build up with anger after every word. He concluded, in another soar whisper: “Witches are monsters...” Evangeline was dumbfounded. Up until now, she hadn't realized how serious this person in front of her was. Something was going on that was a whole lot bigger then some awkward thief stealing pretty stones and getting himself a kidnapped princess because he messed up. There was so much hate in him....? “Alright. I'm listening,” she spoke more seriously, “but how do I know yóú don't have bad plans with them?” She was too late, though. The man was no longer so much as willing to negotiate. “That is no concern of you... 'Witch'.” Evangeline gulped. He spoke the word 'witch' as if it was something disgusting to him. It was new to her. But somehow, being hated simply for what she was born as... felt aweful. The Plague Doctor turned away from her and headed for the door. “You will stay in this room until you hand that killing tool over. That is the end of the discussion.” “And if I don't?” the girl had wished to still sound very brave, but the strength in her voice faltered. “.....We'll see.” With that, he closed the door. Evangeline sat in silence for a while, staring into nothing. She was telling herself she still had things in control, but she was starting to figure she'd gotten herself in a big mess. And it wasn't just about her and the artifact 'Eden'... She might have bumped upon something that concerns the entire country. Were the artifacts really used for evil? Well, for starters, she knows it's some dark form of energy.... but isn't it a good thing that it is sealed and used for a better purpose? And how can she be sure this guy is telling the truth? No, maybe Evangeline herself was at fault for this.... she had never stopped to wonder about these things and had just taken them as they came. Believing the world around her all thought alike and was in little trouble. That was far too naive for a princess. Just what should she believe? The girl stood up. Nothing was going to happen if she was going to stay sitting and pondering. For starters, she had to get out of here, before the thief would take Eden away from her. Alice......If she could talk about this with Alice, sure her sister would know what to do about it. Her big sister could tell how much is true about the thief's story. And if it were true, they could do something about it.... she and Alice together... Evangeline went to explore the room to see if she could use anything to escape. No time to waste. She started with the closet. To her surprise, it was unlocked. And even more surprising, there were dresses in it. For a second, the thought of the Plague Doctor being some radical maniac and fetishist passed her mind. But on closer inspection, the dresses were various sizes and some seemed to be props, rather then casual wear. Something along the line of theater outfits? Or maybe disguises? She resisted to entertain the thought of the thief wearing these outfits. 'No no, no way~' She couldn't help but snicker. But back to focus. Eve thought how she could maybe rip pieces of fabric to make a rope. But before she could do that, she'd have to check if there was a way out. Turning from the closet, she headed to the window she had vaguely registered before. But disappointingly, it opened just a few centimeter. And even if she'd smash the glass, it was too small for her to fit through. Even without the ridiculously poofy ball-dress that she was still wearing... Looking out the window, she saw the room was on the first floor and the house stood hidden among trees on a hill. No other houses in sight for as far as she could see. Looking down, she saw grass grew around the bottom with various wild flowers haphazardly spread around. She spotted a few birds, even a squirrel. It was a sunny summer morning. 'what a pleasant place, wouldn't it be for this situation,' she thought to herself and dropped back on the bed. 'Looks like it's really in the middle of nowhere...' she clicked her tongue and held her head. 'This headache's not helping either... Just what am I to do? “You know my sis is the one who has Aurora, right? Not me?” She called out, thinking the thief might still be around. No reply, of course. Figures. “Just making sure.” She mused to no one in particular. She sat up. Even if he wasn't listening, if she was loud enough it would reach him. So she raised her voice some more: “look. We can't negotiate if not all parties are aware of the situation. Frankly, I have no idea what I got caught up in. it's very frustrating! I'm a reasonable person! we can talk?” Still no reaction. At this volume, could she just break the door down without him responding? Haha, probably won't work... She continued, lowering her voice again. The things she was saying were also just something she wanted to hear herself say. To stay calm. And justify herself. “this is just very absurd and confusing to get caught up in... I pardon my rudeness before. But can you understand my feelings?” Doubting for a moment, she got up and tried the door. Was he really not around? Did he just leave her here? She started as she heard a rustling from behind the door. A whole lot closer then she had expected. So.. he had heard her? How embarrassing. But the rustling disappeared off in the distance, the source leaving. Door still locked. Evangeline clicked her tongue. “Too bad.” She sat on the ground and dropped on her back to stare at the ceiling. Maybe she could think better like that. But all it brought her was her headache worsening. After some time passing, there came a knock to the door. Evangeline hadn't left the ground and had her face covered with her arm, hoping the skin could cool her front head. “Yes?” She spoke halve grumpy. “I doubt it'll suit your taste, but I brought you something to eat...” The princess laughed both charming and sarcastic. “how sweet of you, but I decline.” The thief replied in similar charm: “Hunger strike, is it?” “That. And can't be sure what's in there.” She sat up and glanced at the door. She heard her kidnapper sigh audible. “may I come in?” “You may.” She heard the rustling of the lock as he spoke further: “I can eat a part of it to prove it's not poisoned.” “who knows, maybe it's a slow poison, and you'll take the antidote later.” The thief showed up in the door opening with a tray. He had changed outfit, but the birdmask was still very much there. “you're more cunning then I am.” he sounded almost impressed. “Why thank you.” She didn't sound very heartfelt, though. There was definitely an air of hostility among the two of them. But also some weird sense of fondness. The type you'd have with a classmate who you tease back and forth. Evangeline expected a lot from kidnappings, but certainly not this. “This is your first time kidnapping someone, huh?” He closed the door firmly and put the tray down. “What gave you that idea?” Eve shrugged. “The service. Plus you're incredibly easy. I always imagined during a hostage to be escorted by brainless lackeys, not the big bad himself. You work solo, huh?” He ignored her prying, continuing where he left. “I cant force you to eat it. But it's best when it's still warm.” There was a glass of milk, warm bread, jam and cheese. Overall, it looked plain and in-suspicious. “the thought is appreciated.” She declined, though. Evangeline could guess he rolled his eyes as he scoffed under his breath: “Princess...” score is 3 for that princess, 0 for the lousy master thief, though. “Anyway, we need to talk.” She spoke more earnest, but he cut her to the case: “I apologize for my rude behavior from before... you must be scared, so it's not weird that you're uncomfortable.” “suspicious is a better word.” She frowned. “I'm confused about this whole thing. Explain.” “Yeah..” he replied a tad uncomfortable, but dormant. “where do you want me to start?” She shrudged exasperated. “I'm very lost here, buddy. Your pick.” The Plague doctor tilted his head and replied matter-of-factly: “then I pick not explaining anything.” He was gloating. She could tell. Okay then, 3-1 for the petty thief. “Pffft. Proof I can trust you!” She stated pointedly and crossed her arms. “I'm willing to negotiate if you have valid points.” “frankly, I can't.” Since Evangeline was still on the floor, the thief grabbed a chair to sit across her. “I'm not exactly best friends with witches, so there's no reason why you should be an exception.” He continued: “but I believe there's nothing as filthy as 'result justifies any means'. It wouldn't make me any better then them. so I won't hurt you.” “I can respect that.” At the very least, he sound sincere. “What's wrong with witches? Is there corruption?” “corruption is a mild expression, princess.” “Clarify... -please.” He was quiet for a while. Possibly considering what he could and couldn't tell her. “ 'Witches are building a better world' is the popular slang in Salem. But they try to reach that over the back of humans. For example, there are many professions that are illegal for humans.” “Like what? Politicians?” “Actors. Civil servants. Journalists. Teachers. Priests. Doctors are very tightly screened as well.” Eve tried to figure out for herself what could be harmful about these, but she couldn't think of anything. “Why those?” “Spreading of opinions. Every word that could cause witches to be shown in a bad daylight is cut down. Witches are incredibly powerful. But they still fear humans. Can you guess why?” “ 'The Beatrice Tragedy'? The disaster from a decade ago.... But humans DID cause that, right?? A lot of witches died because of them! My parents--.... My grandmother, the previous queen, died too that day.” The plague doctor nodded. “Yet there's no actual proof humans were the cause of any of that. None the less, witches responded with an irrational hate for humans. 142 people died during the disaster. Of which 10 high politicians. But after that, a rough 3000 human civilians were hunted down on suspicion of treason.” Eve stared in shock and had to process what this means for a moment. 3000 civilians. That's almost 4 times the people working in the palace. “But...but my sister would never do something like that, right?” “The current queen,” the thief's voice sounded incredibly sour at those words, “didn't actively give orders like this herself. But she never stopped it either. War criminals go unpunished. After she ascended the throne, things did calm down in Salem. But even then, humans remain second rated citizens. There's not the slightest of reason for her to bother. And so, humans are left to fend for themselves. The foundation of witchcraft and lore dictates 2 different laws for humans and witches. Example: For stealing a bread, a witch is fined 50 silver Bells. A human loses a hand... Poverty remains. Girls much younger then you are forced into prostitution. some families have to catch mice to not starve. taxes are impossible to pay. But not as impossible as medicine. With the rarity of doctors, there are diseases eating away on small children. Witches are very much aware that they are better then others. and believe they have more right to live. But that's not the worse... “People.... 'humans', that is... They disappear in that city...” “Disappear? Why?” He glanced over to her. “Test subjects... to call one thing.” Evangeline's face turned paler at every word. But the thief had to tell her. She had to know just what has been happening while she was save inside the castle walls. Still, the Plague Doctor doubted to continue. “There are--... witches who enjoy keeping humans as pets. I'm sure that's not an exceptional matter.....” “you mean like slaves?” “No. 'Pets'. Not considered an intelligent life form with a will. Or to eat them. Livestock if you will. Human meat is considered a delicacy among some...” Evangeline covered her mouth, a rush of nausea overwhelming her. “What?? What!!??” Coming at this point of horror, her kidnapper didn't stop any longer, but continuing in a cold monotone voice: “to witches, human must be nothing more then some form of sick entertainment.... something to be laughed at....” Eve's cheeks flushed and she quickly averted her eyes in guilt. He knew he was being a jerk. But this truth had to be said for her to understand just how grave the situation is. “I.... I don't know what to say... I'm so sorry you've been through all those things.” “ 'been through'... suggests it's a thing of the past.” “y-you know what I mean!” “I don't...” They were both anxiously quiet for a while. Evangeline could almost physically feel how bitter and hostile this man was at the moment. She didn't want to believe any of this. She wanted to shout that he was lying! She wanted to run off and have someone, ANYONE tell her things were alright! She wanted to see Amand or Alice! And never meet any human ever again! But she knew. She knew it from the memories of her brightly colored history book. From the lighthearted chats about humans she had heard at parties. Phrases like 'ow, they're just humans.'... Certain seemingly innocent books, written by humans, are considered forbidden literature... Was there.... ever a dish on the table she wasn't sure of what it was? And she knew from the tone in his voice. She knew how deeply broken he must be. How someone who clearly wasn't cut out for acting like a terrorist, was driven to become like this: He was telling the truth. “I don't get it.. all of that is terrible! Alright humans are...humans. But still people with feelings? That's just wrong!” “ 'alright, humans are humans'.....do you hear what you're saying?” He spoke gravely and bitterly calm, without facing her. Evangeline gulped, but nodded. He was right. Without her even knowing, racism might have already slipped into her mindset long ago. He asked: “Do you think you're better then humans?” “....Maybe.” She answered truthfully. “but humans should still be respected! you're still people! You're just... different?” He sighed heavyhearted and they were both silent for a while again. A very sad silence. “...But well...” Eve started doubtfully, “ 'better' or something like that.. what good of a witch am I really? I can't even use any magic, so how much 'better' am I from you, then?” He looked up, but the information didn't seem to phase him. Did he already know? Still, he wasn't going to be more compassionate right away: “You still come from a good family.  You grow up in that society none the less.” “Yeah, I guess. But I'm a disgrace for this bloodline. they wanted something like my sister, but got... well, me.” The thief stared at her for a long while. She could only guess what expression he wore behind that mask. She must be stupid. Starting about things that bothered her for all this time to a criminal. What were here little inferiority problems to oppression? But she couldn't shake that they were somehow similar. Not belonging anywhere. Alone. With an ache in her throat, she spoke the thought she had ignored desperately all this while: “maybe they're glad I'm gone.” Before he could reply, Evangeline shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. No, this wasn't like her! She had to man up! She jumped up from the ground and stood fiercely, pridefully. As befit of the proud Grimalkin family. “I see your point. but I can't just simply trust you.” The thief sat back and even though she tried playing tough, he somehow seemed more relaxed. “Fair enough.” He replied. “I mean, you're still a stranger that drugged and kidnapped me for suspicious reasons!” The man hummed a bit troubled. “yes, well. Sorry... I didn't really have a choice there.” The tone in his voice grew back to the way he was when she met him at the party. Not really knowing what to do with the positive change in attitude after all that stress, she got pissed. “Yes you did! this just happened to be the best you could think of.” “Well, if you had preferred trashing around and us falling to our deaths, then I suppose.” He shrugged. “You could've just ripped it off, or assassinate me and take it, but you chose this.” She exasperatedly gestured at herself. “Look at this! I'm 1.50m! how tough can it be? Just lift me and away we go!” “You'd still be struggling, dear.” He spoke both cynical and comical. “Besides, it'd be a problem if you witnessed the entire trip to my evil layer.” “Option 3: you could've just dumped me in the middle of nowhere.” “Now that's just cruel!” He exclaimed, more shocked then she thought he would be. “But still very possible.” she shrugged. “No.” He spoke firmly, leaving Eve to raise her eyebrow. “Why not?” “Because--...” He paused, rather uptight. “well... I didn't want you to get hurt or anything.” She gawked at him like seeing water burn. “Not my business, but.... You REALLY suck at this kidnapping thing. Giving you a 2 out of 10.” “a-Anyway,” he sounded flustered, “that thing was still stuck to your dress, so I couldn't just drop you!” “Well, isn't that too bad? Now you won't get it at all.” “I've got time.” She pried on the jewel to see if it still wouldn't come lose. Surprisingly, it did. Now that it was lose, she dropped it down her bosom. He gaped at her dumbfounded, lost for words. “...you do know I could just assault you, right?” “No, you wouldn't~” Eve smiled ear to ear. “............you've seen that right! but you're really lucky I won't!!” He raised his hands both snarky and in defeat. “Oh, dear. You really are easy to toy with.” The thief huffed annoyed, but couldn't help but to laugh after a little. Evangeline couldn't drop her defenses just yet. But this felt pretty damn amusing. “I'm off.” the man pouted, heading for the door. “I'll come back later. tell me then if you need anything.” He added: “and no, that doesn't include me letting you go.” Eve snapped her finger. “Foiled again.” “tough luck, princess.” “Then, how about...” she thought for a moment. “letting me out of the room but in the house?” Asking it, she didn't really expect to have a chance. But none the less, he replied: “I'll consider.” And closed the door behind him. --- Mist at the end of June is a rarity. None the less, the outskirts of Salem were engulfed throughout the majority of the day. An eerie kind of mist, that would hide monsters from mortal eyes, leaving them to roam around as they please. And one such monster stood at the deserted square. A massive man, completely clad in black. Hidden underneath a classy tophat was a face wrapped in bandages. The only indication that he was not a beast were the eyes that were uncovered. Steel blue and cold. But the small area of skin surrounding them that wasn't covered by bandaged looked scorched and burnt. If he was anything resembling a man, he would be somewhere in his forties. Seasoned and worn. But something in his eyes was still very alive. It almost seemed like this gloomy person was the one emitting the mist screen. As he awaited, peering into the clouded distance, for some unseen enemy. A second figure approached him. Equally tall, but slender. Where the first man seemed to be a figure from a mysterious horror story, the other was like an exotic prince from an eastern fairytale, less then halve the age of the elder. His demeanor was calm and serene, but something seemed unpleasant and untrustworthy about him. His skin was dark, with golden markings. But his short hair was pale white. He walked barefooted, but the stones didn't cut his skin. Even though he was dressed lightly, he wore thin leather gloves that he adjusted nervous-habitually from time to time. Due to being dressed as this, he shivered as he approached the misty figure. “It's the middle of summer, but it's still freezing whenever you're around, mr. Moriarty. Can't you do anything about it?” “No.” The other spoke briskly, but with a clearer and more solemn voice than one would expect of his posture. The one with the golden markings in turn, sounded to be a lot more juvenile and carefree then his appearance gave away. “Come, Scaliwag.” The elder man spoke, turning off to leave the square. He was a man who disliked to wait unless it was necessary and with the lost princess' life at stake, there was no time to spare. Alastor Moriarty was a man of logics over feeling, but his loyalty to the royal family far exceeded anyone. The younger, Midas Scaliwag, had only recently joined the witch council, but this was the first time he had seen his already creepy colleague this unpleased. Midas strut along, passing mr. Moriarty, since he knew just as well where they were heading: the major's house. Well, even if it was said he was the major, it wasn't like a human had a lot of deciding to do in the Salem outskirts. The actual person in charge of all human affairs was this same Midas Scaliwag. Said youngster knocked the door with an air of carelessness. There came no reply for a moment, until hesitatingly, a frightened and worn woman opened the door. The fear on her face at least doubled as she saw the two man in front of the door. Holding her breath and tongue, she stood aside to let them in. Ignoring the effect he had on the woman, Midas entered the residence. It was ramshackle and dark, with a man sitting bend over at the hearth. What caught the eye immediately as one entered was a golden statue in the middle of the room. It was the image of a young girl, 7 or 8 in age, innocence on her face and her thin hand outstretched. But both the man and woman did not dare look upon it. “what.... what is it?” The major spoke, suppressing the bitterness in his voice. “We're looking for someone.” Moriarty spoke plainly, and Midas held a drawn picture of princess Evangeline out to the master of the house. Upon being approached by Midas, the man leaped back, nearly burning himself to the fire. “s-stay back!” He exclaimed. “Not? Then how about this one?” And Midas showed another drawing, this time of the Plague Doctor. The major shook his head vigorously. “he-- t-that thief's go nothing to do with humans! He uses magic! He's got to be one of your kind!” “Now now...” Midas smiled. “What an attitude, mister major. 'your kind'? You wound me... If I recall correctly, last time you were more than keen to please me. You thought I could make you a rich man and as promised:” Midas gestured to the golden statue, “I made you realize just how rich you are.” The woman could no longer control herself and started sobbing: “my child... my child!!” She tried to rush to Midas to attack him, but was blocked by an invisible wall. “My, how mysterious.... no tricks, no gimmicks...” Spoke Moriarty mockingly. “NO! My wife!” the major rushed over to her. “Don't worry. This spell can be undone as soon as we leave. Unlike the one on your gold daughter.” saying this, Midas shrugged as Moriarty gave him a look. It didn't really matter if they knew or not,  though to mr. Moriarty it showed there was still a lot of naivety in Midas' set of mind towards humans. The major sank to his knees against the invisible wall. “the thief is to be caught dead or alive by anyone, that order went out last time. I don't know anything about the girl. I swear...” “I see. Not really useful.” Midas fingered his gloves again, looking lost in thought at the statue. Moriarty headed back to the door, undoing the spell on the wife without a further glance. “Let's go. We're wasting our time.” “Got it, sir.” Midas rubbed the frozen little girl over the head before following with a spring in his feet. “You lost your patience last time, Scaliwag.” Spoke the fellow witch council member. “m'bad. I couldn't really help myself... I hate greedy humans. I'm sure the girl's better of like this, then with parents who prefer gold over her life. She's loved now.” the man in bandages shrugged. “Useless sentiment... If you'd ask me I hate ALL humans.”        

[auroraphilealis]

The Summer (24/32)

The Summer (24/32) | Dan Howell has spent the last three summers at Camp Bergamot, but it’s never been quite like this before. This year, he faces a summer full of new friends, a new relationship, and an entirely new view on his own sexuality. Perhaps Camp Bergamot should be renamed camp self discovery for all the changes Dan has gone through, but one thing’s for sure - despite all the hiccups and the drama, he just might have found the love of his life. | Phan | Mature | Smut, Misunderstandings, Insecurity, Panic Attacks, Bullying, Minor Violence, Physical Fight | 300,000+ Words

Disclaimer: In no way do I claim that this is real or cast aspersions on Dan or Phil.

This Part: 13,272 Words

For reference, @phansdick is Dan, @insanityplaysfics is Phil.

(Previous) (AO3) (Masterlist)

If you’re wondering about why we chose to cut the fic up the way we specifically did this chapter… just know that the next chapter is about 18k words, so look forward to that next week lol.

Warnings: dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, rimming, blowjobs, teasing, terrible singing

Chapter Twenty-Four

Once they got their food, they sat down at the table with their friends and Dan immediately took this as his chance to slide his hand over Phil's thigh. Caleb began to talk to him about what activity they were doing that week and Dan smiled and nodded in all of the right places, meanwhile sneaking his hand lower and lower until he was brushing his fingers over Phil's bulge. By the end of the night, Dan was sure Phil was going to be so frustrated he was going to make Dan see stars.

Phil really, really hated Dan right now. Except, he didn't really. There was something wonderful about this game, despite the state it had left Phil in. He liked the way Dan seemed so confident in himself the most, though, liked that his boyfriend was happy and excited and ready to try something new with Phil, something he'd gone out of his way to learn. Phil had yet to ask him how he'd fingered himself, but it was all down to his punishment later. Phil already had an idea of what he was going to do, and the more Dan played with him out in the open, the worse his punishment would be - well, if Phil could hold his composure that long. He wasn't entirely sure he could after all, and he had to muffle the rough sounds he made every time Dan stroked his hand over his bulge by instead shoving endless amounts of food into his mouth. By the time dinner, was over, Phil was aching in his pants, face flushed red with the energy it was taking to hold himself back. "Phil?" Kim asked, concern written clear across her features. "Are you alright?" The entire table turned to look at Phil, then, including Dan, whose expression went from excited cheer to worry in a flat second. The realization of that almost made Phil want to smirk. That's what Dan deserved, for making Phil suffer like this. Deciding to play it up a bit, Phil shook his head, pressing a hand over one eye. "I don't feel well at all," he complained. "I think I'm getting a migraine." "Oh, Phil," Mariah said, sounding concerned. "Here, make Dan take you to bed early. He can cuddle you until you feel better. We'll cover for you if anyone asks where you've gone off too!" she offered, smiling and none the wiser of what Phil wanted here. Nodding appreciatively, but groaning as he got up, Phil moved to hide his not so subtle erection, and took Dan's hand in his. "Dan, come cuddle me," he whined, and pulled hard to make his boyfriend come with him. He had no intention of heading back to his own cabin, nor Dan's, when there was a very easy to access room they could sneak into instead, and Phil had... plans for Dan.

That... That little shit! Dan was totally going to tease Phil for the rest of dinner, for the rest of the campfires actually, but as soon as Phil saw the opportunity to leave, Phil was taking it! Dan pretended to be concerned for Phil for all of two seconds until they were out of earshot and Phil's hand was tight around his wrist, showing just how much frustration was going through Phil's body. "Phil!" Dan whined, stumbling along after his boyfriend. They were walking so fast that Dan had a bit of trouble keeping up, despite his legs being longer. They weren't going to their cabins either, which was confusing him. "Where the hell are we going? I was looking forward to that popsicle!" Phil didn't answer him. Instead, he was pulling him along faster, making Dan smirk a bit. Honestly he was so excited, wondering what Phil had in store for him, wondering just how Phil was going to punish him for what he'd done today. Since Phil wasn't answering, Dan decided to play with him a bit more, just to get him a bit more worked up. Dan could feel his leggings tighten even as he was thinking about it. "Are you going to punish me? Like the naughty boy I am? Going to make me so pleasured that I start sobbing out your name?" Dan snickered and reached forward, smacking Phil's butt just because he could and he liked to egg Phil on. "You've got a nice ass," Dan told him, giggling.

Dan was a cheeky little shit, and there was no way in hell Phil was even going to bother responding to him when he was acting as if he didn't know what was going on. He knew perfectly well what Phil wanted, and Phil wasn't giving him any more opportunity to tease Phil more than he absolutely had to be teased. His cock managed to grow impossibly harder in his jeans, absolutely throbbing, as Dan spoke on, though, until he was moaning aloud just at the thought of Dan sobbing for him. Oh, how he wanted to make Dan sob for him, more than anything in the world. He wanted to get Dan on his hands and knees, get his mouth all over him, and when he was done with him, Dan was gonna suck him so hard - Phil squealed when Dan reached out to smack his ass, and turned a dark look on him. Dan's eyes were glowing, and his cheeks were a delicious red as he grinned, smug and proud and happy. Phil softened a little. "I love you like this," he murmured quietly, before turning back around. "But yes, Daniel. I am going to punish you." Phil pushed through the doors to the theater room again, but this time, he locked the doors behind him, just in case someone came looking for them tonight. He was certain someone had to have figured out where they were going at night by now. As soon as they were inside, Phil was pushing Dan down onto the bigger sofa, and standing in front of him, cock hard and an obvious a bulge in his jeans, arms crossed over his chest. He smirked down at his giggling boyfriend, and said "Tell me what you did last night. Every. Last. Detail."

Hearing that Phil loved seeing Dan like this, combined with such an affectionate expression, made Dan's original playful mood take a turn as he was so overcome with love that he could barely answer back. He didn't have to, though, because Phil was telling him that he was going to punish him and pushed him through the doors to the theatre. The sound of the lock clicking made the hairs stand on the back of Dan's neck. He was so excited for what Phil was going to do to him that he was practically shivering in his shoes as Phil pushed him onto the couch, leaving Dan giggling as he loomed over him, a primal expression on his face. Dan's mouth went dry at the words and he licked his lips to wet them. "As soon as you mentioned fingering, I couldn't get it out of my head. So when everybody went to sleep, I snuck into Brittany's room and grabbed her backpack and took it into the bathroom. First I found lube," Dan didn't mention that he’d also found condoms as he fished around in the tiny pocket of his leggings to find a package of lube hidden there all day, throwing it at Phil. "And then I pulled out her laptop." Dan blushed, looking down at his hands as if he was ashamed. (He wasn't). "I ended up watching a porn video of some guy getting fingered. They looked so much like us that it ended up turning me on and I had to do something about it." Dan bit his lip and then glanced up at Phil, smirking wickedly as an idea popped into his head. His voice was low, almost a purr as he spoke. "Would you rather I tell you about what happened next, or did you want me to show you?"

Dan had stolen Brittany's backpack, and her lube, of all things, just to learn how to finger himself because he wanted Phil to do it for him. Phil's breathing was absolutely ragged, and he wanted so, so badly to get his jeans off, the pressure there was so intense - only he wasn't really ready to take things any further, desperate to get Dan back for his teasing earlier. Dan's words were not making things any easier on Phil either as he found himself unable to stop imagining Dan all sprawled out and trying that on himself, just to see if he would like it. Phil's toes curled, and he stared at Dan suspiciously as he offered to show Phil the rest of what he did. While Phil wanted nothing more than to take control, while he knew this was just another ploy for Dan to tease Phil, he did need Dan to show him how not to hurt him. "Show me," he demanded, swooping down and taking Dan's mouth in the most demanding kiss he could muster. It wasn't hard when there was so much sexual frustration thrumming through his body that he was physically aching for it, groaning as he bit and nibbled at Dan's lips, played with his tongue and absolutely devoured his boyfriend all together. Dan was making these little whining, desperate noises, and it was turning Phil on even more. When he pulled away, he picked up the lube Dan had had hidden all day, and handed it to his boyfriend. "Show me how not to hurt you," he demanded, but he hoped that Dan knew how much he meant that.

Phil's words were so demanding that it had Dan growing harder in his leggings, the material feeling so constrictive on his cock that it was really beginning to hurt. Dan let out a shaky breath at Phil's demands, but he didn't get to let it out fully before Phil was leaning down and engulfing Dan in the most demanding kiss ever, so that it literally left Dan unable to breathe. He was biting and sucking at Dan's lips, licking into his mouth with so much force that Dan was finding it hard to focus on anything but that. He whimpered as Phil sucked on his upper lip, reaching up to touch Phil, but when he moved, Phil pulled away and Dan was left whining from the loss. He was already shaking under Phil's touch and he hated that Phil could so easily ruin him. But then Phil was handing him the lube, telling him to show him not to hurt him, and Dan had to take a moment to get his breath back. When he did, he was turning around on the couch so he had his chest against the arm, knees bracing him up, and his ass in the air right in front of Phil. He swayed his hips a bit first, teasing Phil a bit and sucking in a breath when Phil lightly slapped his ass. It wasn't hard enough that it would hurt Dan, but it was hard enough that Dan moaned quietly, reaching behind him to pull down his leggings. He didn't pull them down all the way, just enough that his entire ass was on display, a little private show just for Phil. When he glanced behind him, he saw that Phil had his eyes trained on his ass and Dan whimpered, grabbing the packet of lube and spreading some on his fingers. Taking a deep breath, Dan reached behind himself and slowly circled a finger around his rim, eyes fluttering at the feeling. As soon as he was relaxed enough, he started to insert his finger inside and let out a low moan at the feeling.

"Good boy," Phil praised as Dan took just a moment to pull himself together before turning and pressing his body up against the arm of the couch he was on. His butt was on full display for Phil, and he watched as Dan wiggled it a little just to drive Phil nuts, and reached out to smack it lightly, just wanting to reprimand and feel. "Be a good boy, or I'll have to punish you," he demanded, voice low and hot. He loved the sound of Dan's moan, the way his body seemed to seize up at Phil's words, at his touch, and folded his arms back over his chest as he waited for Dan to get started. He was staring at Dan's bum when he pulled his leggings down just enough that his ass was showing, just for Phil, and it was the best thing in the world. Phil licked his lips, watched as Dan let out a whimper, and then reached for the packet of lube to get started. Dan didn't bother to tell Phil what to do as he got started, and for a moment, Phil forgot to ask, stunned as he was to see Dan spreading himself and circling one finger around his rim before he finally pushed it inside, slowly but surely, as he let out a moan. Phil groaned quietly himself, having to reach down to press a palm to his dick for some kind of relief, and then he was reaching out and catching Dan's wrists. "Tell me what to do, Daniel. Tell me what you're doing. Tell me how to love you."

Phil was spouting out the words 'good boy' as if it wasn't having an affect on Dan at all. In actuality, every time he said those words, Dan's body wanted to give out and his dick twitched, wanting him to reach down and palm himself. He didn't though, knowing that he had to be a good boy for Phil. He wanted to hear more praises coming from Phil's lips, telling him how amazing he was and how good he was doing. So when Phil stopped him, catching his wrist and ordering him to tell him how to properly finger him, Dan obeyed despite the fact that he could hardly breathe. He sucked a breath in, whimpering low in his throat. "I- You have to put lube on your fingers first, b-but make sure you - ah - warm it up first." It was proving to be a bit difficult to talk as Phil had started to kiss the back of his neck, distracting him. Phil let go of Dan's hand so he could start to show Phil what he’d learned, except this time, Dan was vocalizing it. "Start off with o-one finger and put it in slowly to make sure I can g-get used to the f-feeling. Then you can start to move it." Dan started to move his finger in and out of himself, making a show of it so Phil knew what to do. "Once I'm used to the one finger - I'll probably tell you - then you can put in another." Dan did as instructed and slowly put in a second finger, groaning as he dragged his digits against his walls. He let his head fall forward into the couch and nearly forgot to tell Phil what to do. When that earned him another smack on the ass, he gasped and started to talk again. "You can start to scissor your fingers to really get me stretched out. But one of my favourite things to do," Dan curled his fingers, right where he knew where his prostate would be, and let out a guttural moan as he hit it, needing to take a moment as pleasure flowed through his entire body. "I-if you curl your fingers, you can find my prostate, which feels really fucking good."

Phil was quick to smack Dan's ass when he forgot to tell Phil what to do next, unforgiving when Dan had already gotten off once today and Phil had not. He was so, so careful with Dan, though, unsure and trying to only do things Dan seemed to enjoy. Dan's voice was choked and rough as he spoke again, telling Phil how to stretch him and scissor his fingers to get Dan all loosened up for him. All the while, he was gasping and whining while Phil watched him go, occasionally planting distracting kisses all over Dan's back. Then Dan was telling Phil his favorite thing to do, and Phil hadn't thought his dick could get any harder. He groaned as Dan let out his loudest sound yet, and then, while watching Dan open himself up for Phil was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, Phil grabbed his wrist and pulled his fingers free before Dan could pleasure himself anymore. He was quick to pull Dan's head back, forcing him to turn, and whispered against his lips, "Good boy, Dan. You're so hot like this, doing everything I say without holding back, following my every command. Thank you for teaching me," he said, and then he was kissing Dan, pressing up against him and grinding his bulge into Dan's waiting bum. Phil devoured him all over again, desperate for all of Dan, aching for him, and licked into his mouth until he was satisfied with the noises Dan made. Soon enough, he pulled away, picking up the lube packet and drizzling it on three of his fingers, just like Dan. He was careful to warm it up, just as he'd been told, and then, with one soothing hand rubbing Dan's lower back, Phil pressed the first finger very slowly in. He was gasping immediately, feeling Dan's body work to suck him in, and basically collapsed against Dan's back. "Oh, shit, Dan. You're so - so... everything."

Dan let out a loud whine as Phil was suddenly forcing Dan’s fingers away, leaving his body to clench around nothing, but then Phil was making up for the loss by forcing him to turn his head and whispering hot words to him, telling Dan how he was a good boy and telling him how hot he was. The words made Dan whimper quietly, his eyes falling shut, and Phil took that as his chance to kiss him. Hard. He was licking into Dan’s mouth, pressing his tongue alongside Dan's in just the way that made Dan a panting mess. When Phil was suddenly grinding his bulge against Dan's bare ass, Dan gasped and arched his back, trying to get Phil to press harder into him. The feeling of Phil grinding against his ass was just so good, and Dan wondered how it would feel if there were no jeans separating them at all, just Phil's dick pressing against his bum. Phil was pulling away all too soon, but Dan couldn't be disappointed when Phil was grabbing the packet of lube and pouring it onto his fingers. Dan watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Phil made sure to warm it up, seeming so careful, and Dan was thankful to have a loving partner like Phil, someone who wanted to please him and make him feel good. He didn't think he could have anybody better than Phil. Phil's hand was soothing Dan's lower back, and then he felt one finger against his rim. Dan took in a deep breath as Phil's finger slowly slid into him, and Dan's mouth dropped open. It was so much different to have somebody else's fingers inside of him, so much more intense. Dan's body was on fire and he was mewling, loving how Phil's finger was so long, pressing into him until Dan could think of nothing else. "Phil, god! You- you feel so good!" he moaned, arching into Phil's touch.

The sound of Dan moaning, arching back into Phil at just one finger, was enough to encourage Phil to start moving it slowly in and out, mouth hanging open at the heat of Dan's body, the way he seemed to eat up Phil's finger like he couldn't get enough. Phil pressed in a little deeper, to the knuckle, and moaned long and hard with Dan, far too desperate and needy to stop now. Even so, the last thing he wanted was to hurt Dan, and so he started peppering kisses all down Dan's neck and then down the middle of his back. "Gonna eat you out, baby. Gonna take such good care of you. You're so good for me, Dan. God, you're so perfect. The way your body begs for me, shit. I love you," Phil managed, trying to be hot and authoritative but unable to help himself, wanting nothing more than for Dan to know how much he adored him, how much he appreciated him, how good it felt to finger him open. He waited until Dan demanded he press in a second finger, and then Phil was sliding in two at once, pressed tight together so as not to hurt Dan. He went slowly at first again, panting as Dan moaned underneath him, shifting his hips like he wanted more, but Phil was going to make him wait. Phil was going to draw this out. Phil was never going to hurt his Dan. He licked his way down Dan's back, shifting back on his knees and pushing Dan down until he was practically face first in the couch, and then he was using his other hand to spread Dan's ass cheeks, getting a good look at Dan's rim and the way it opened and stretched for Phil.

"I love you," Dan whimpered out, but it was hard to talk when he was finally getting what he'd been thinking about for the past two days. Phil's finger was pressing all the way into him, so deep and gentle, before he pulled it back out. "Want to be a good boy for you. I can't wait to have you eating me out too. Your finger feels so good inside of me. Fuck, please, I need more. I'm ready." Dan pushed his ass out, practically begging for Phil to insert another finger, not holding himself back from letting out a whine when Phil did as he asked. Dan already felt so stretched out, and Phil hadn't even begun to scissor him open or do anything yet. He was perfectly still, waiting for Dan to adjust, and it was driving him absolutely crazy. Why wasn't he doing anything? Did he know Dan was practically putty under his hands? Dan whined and pushed his hips back, trying to get Phil to do something, anything, but Phil wasn't having it. Instead, he pushed Dan down so his face was buried in the couch, and then his lips were trailing light kisses down his body, his fingers knuckle deep inside of Dan, until he was face-to-face with Dan's ass. His face was so close that Dan could feel his breath against his bum, and he moaned quietly, becoming a bit antsy with the slow pace. Dan clenched down on Phil's fingers, trying to get him to move, but Phil didn't listen, just staring at him and spreading his ass cheeks apart. "Phil, please! Do something, I'm so ready for you. Make me feel good!"

It was Dan's begging that finally got to Phil, snapped him out of his staring, and reminding him that he could do more than look. He groaned a bit, sighing against Dan's open and spread hole, and then he was finally moving his fingers the way Dan so clearly wanted him too. He didn't even care that Dan had teased him within an inch of his life earlier - he just wanted to make Dan feel good, so Phil spread his fingers a little, moving them slowly, and then faster as Dan became more and more receptive to him, trying to crook his fingers and find that spot inside of Dan that had made him moan before. Meanwhile, Phil was watching the way Dan sucked his fingers up,debating, and finally leaned in to start biting at Dan's bum, teasing and licking and sucking because he could, because Dan tasted good, and because he wanted to make his boyfriend scream for him. He wanted Dan to fall apart. "Dan," Phil whispered, licking tentatively between his fingers, spreading them a bit wider, and watching as Dan's rim opened up for him, just enough space for Phil to prod his tongue inside. He couldn't find that damn spot, but he would. He crooked his fingers again, searching, and used his tongue to lap at Dan until he could feel Dan trembling under him. He grinned as Dan called his name, and then, quite suddenly, Dan was arching his ass backwards into Phil's face, and practically sobbing as Phil's fingers pressed into something that felt a bit different than the rest of Dan. Phil grinned, and pulled his lapping tongue back to say "Did I get it, Dan?" nipping Dan's bum when he didn't answer right away.

As soon as Phil started to move his fingers, Dan was done for. When he'd done it himself for the first time, the process had just felt weird, but with Phil, he could feel sparks of pleasure flowing through his entire body at each drag of his fingertips. Dan closed his eyes and just focused on the feeling, letting small gasps and whimpers out without trying to hold himself back. He thought that this was heaven, surely, until Phil's tongue flicked out against his entrance, and Dan basically descended to a different plane of existence. "Oh, fuck!" Dan cried, eyes flying open as Phil started lapping around his fingers. Coupled with the way Phil's fingers were pushing in and out of him at a steady pace, Dan had never felt so good before. And then Phil was spreading his fingers out just a little bit, and Dan allowed himself to go pliant, letting out an elongated moan when Phil prodded his tongue inside of him. Everything felt so good, from the warm, wet heat of Phil's tongue lapping at his rim, to the way Phil's fingers were spreading him open. Dan was sweating, an absolute mess, and when Phil finally crooked his fingers into that spot, Dan couldn't help but to sob, crying out Phil's name. He had let his eyes fall shut again, panting against the material of the couch as Phil just kept his fingers pressed to his prostate, and he couldn't even register that Phil was asking a question until he nipped at his ass. "I- Yes! God, fuck, do that again!" And Phil did, beginning to attack Dan's hole with a new vigor, creating a steady rhythm with his fingers and his tongue until Dan could hardly take it anymore. He felt his groin start to tighten and he didn't want to stop yet. It felt too good. They couldn't stop! "Phil, Phil!" Dan gasped out, voice absolutely wrecked. He looked behind himself to see Phil staring at him hungrily, obvious bulge in his jeans. "Wanna- wanna suck you off while you eat me out. Wanna taste you too. Can I? Please?" he whimpered.

Dan was absolutely wrecked by him, and it was driving Phil insane. He had no free hand to press against his jean clad erection, so he rutted into nothing, moaning around Dan's body as his fingers continued to press and prod, massaging against Dan's prostate and milking him while his tongue continued to lap around his rim, around his own fingers, making subtle motions to press inside. It was difficult to get the angle right when Phil was so focused on making Dan see stars by pressing into that little bundle Phil could feel under the pads of his fingers, but he was going to do his damned best, determined to eat Dan out. Until Dan stopped him, shouting Phil's name with a voice so wrecked, Phil couldn't help the surge of need that rushed through him. His cock pulsed, and he felt himself start to spurt, felt himself starting to unravel, only he didn't want to when he hadn't even had any stimulation yet, when Dan was offering something even better. Nodding hungrily, Phil licked at Dan's rim one final time, and drew his fingers away, much to Dan's distress. "Up," Phil grunted, reduced to one word replies as he climbed off of the sofa and began to yank his jeans and boxers down, dropping them to the floor immediately. Dan was watching, panting, chest heaving and cock sputtering as well, leaking and so, so ready to come. Phil huffed out a rough noise at the sight, reached down to take his dick in his hands, and held tight to the base. He was so close, and all he'd done was watch Dan all day. Fuck, fuck. "Gonna... gonna lay down for you, baby. Want you to straddle me backwards," Phil managed, biting his lip hard as he held himself back. Dan was so fucking hot like this, all spread out for him. As soon as Phil thought he had himself a little more under control, he climbed back onto the couch, stretching himself out on his back and watching Dan immediately climb back over him, face so red and fringe sweat plastered to his forehead that Phil almost worried for him, only he knew that Dan was in throes of deep pleasure and not sick. He grinned to himself, because he'd done that, and immediately grabbed for Dan's bum, pulling his ass cheeks apart and pressing his face in close immediately.

Even though Dan had asked for it, he still whined and tried to push his hips back when Phil pulled away. It was probably a good thing, though, considering he was literally about to come right then and there and he didn't necessarily want to yet. He wanted this to go on forever. Dan scrambled into a sitting position as Phil ordered him to, watching hungrily as Phil started to take off his jeans and boxers, and pulled his own leggings the rest of the way off of his legs. Phil’s cock sprung free, red and leaking, and Dan's mouth almost watered at the sight. He couldn't wait to get Phil’s dick back in his mouth, feeling Phil shuddering as he worked him down his throat. For a moment, they both just stared at each other, and Dan understood. He didn't know if he would be able to last long at all when he had Phil's cock in his throat and Phil's tongue working against his hole. They both needed a moment to get themselves together, and Dan could hardly believe that Phil was already so close (he could tell from the way he grabbed the base of his dick) just from pleasuring Dan. The sight was the hottest thing Dan had ever seen. Dan nodded frantically when Phil told him what to do, taking a deep breath to try to calm himself as Phil began to lay back on the couch. He loved seeing Phil all stretched out like that, his cock resting hard against his stomach and leaking precome, face red. "Can't wait to get my mouth on you," Dan whimpered and climbed on top of Phil, just how he told him to. He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed that his ass was literally in Phil's face because he was so turned on. He presented himself to Phil while he hovered his own face over Phil's length, licking his lips hungrily at the sight. When Phil spread him apart, his tongue flickering against Dan's entrance once more, Dan moaned and lapped at Phil's slit, licking up all the precome before taking him into his mouth. Phil's cock was hot and heavy and twitching in his mouth. He heard Phil make a noise of pleasure as Dan swallowed him down, not taking him all the way and instead bobbing his head in shallow bursts. He wanted to make Phil wait for him to take him all the way, wait until Phil was moaning and writhing underneath him before he swallowed him whole.

Even now, somehow even now, when Phil had his tongue against Dan's rim and his fingers teasing and pushing past the slick mass of muscle to press back inside, Dan still somehow managed to be a goddamned tease. His tongue was hot and soft against Phil's slit, licking away the precum that had drizzled there, only to be replaced with another spurt as Phil shuddered under Dan, and then his mouth was on him, but not to the extent that Phil knew Dan could take. Dan was driving him mad, even as he let out a pleasured sound, fingers jerking against Dan's skin and finally pressing inside. Dan's mouth was so good on him, so fucking good, but it wasn't enough and Phil wanted to strangle Dan for making him wait so long - instead, he just pressed long fingers deep inside of Dan and found that spot again, groaning as Dan moaned around his dick, sending hot vibrations all down his spine. "Fuck!" he managed, panting against Dan's rim and licking possessively again. His tongue worked its way past the rough mass of muscle, and finally, finally he was licking the inside of Dan's walls, fingers scissoring Dan apart and hardly bothering to abuse his prostate anymore. Somehow, the new sensation made Dan keen louder, and Phil bucked his hips up from the sheer pleasure that made him feel. Dan's mouth was so hot and slick, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked and moaned around Phil, and it was almost as good, almost as tight, as Dan's hole as he sucked up Phil's fingers deeper inside of him. Phil moaned, huffed against Dan's rim, and then he was sucking, pressing his face as far and as close as possible as he licked into Dan and sucked at his tight rim, hips kicking with desperation and need.

Soon enough, Phil was scissoring him apart and Dan felt Phil's tongue slide past his tight ring of muscles until his tongue was inside him. Dan keened, pulling away from Phil's dick for a moment to push back into the sensation, trying to get Phil to go deeper. He was breathing heavily and he could feel his entire body trembling with each flick of Phil's tongue, each drag of his fingers. Dan felt so stretched out, his hole constricted around Phil's fingers and tongue, and it was the most erotic thing Dan had ever experienced. He couldn't help it when he leaned back down and sucked Phil back into his mouth. He was being sloppy, he knew that, with spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth as he made sure Phil's entire length was slick with spit and precome. He moaned around Phil's cock as Phil began sucking on his rim, Phil's hips beginning to buck into his touch. He knew Phil was getting frustrated, knew that they both knew Dan was teasing, playing, waiting for that exact moment to finally take in all of Phil. He found that moment when Phil's hips started quivering, trying to get himself fully in Dan's mouth, tip spurting more and more precome. Dan took his mouth away from Phil then, licking his wet lips before trailing little kitten licks all up and down Phil's length. Phil was whining, his ministrations on Dan's ass weakening with need, trying to buck his hips up. Dan giggled at his desperation and held down his hips, making sure they were secure and Phil couldn't move them anymore. Then, he swallowed his boyfriend down whole.

Phil's cock was dribbling so fucking much, his balls pulling up tight to his body with need. It was clear that if Dan didn't fucking help him right now Phil was going to come with or without his help, and he was terrified it was going to end up in a ruined orgasm, with Phil sensitive and raw to the nerve, but feeling close to no pleasure at all. He was whining, hips bucking against Dan, as his boyfriend moaned against him and drew his mouth away to fuck his hips back into Phil's mouth. Phil couldn't bring himself to ruin Dan's pleasure as well, knew Dan would help him in the end, and tongue fucked him as best he could fingers pulling Dan apart as far as he could manage so his tongue could slip in and out unfettered. Phil's chin was pressed tight to Dan's ass, and it was the way he was holding Dan open that helped him to keep breathing despite his nose being pressed to Dan's skin as well. Then, finally, Dan's mouth was back, and he was sucking Phil down sloppily. Phil could feel the dribble coating his entire lower half, but he didn't even care because it felt so god and he'd made Dan lose fucking self control, how amazing was that? Phil's fingers delved in deeper, letting Dan's body go, and he kept sucking at what he could while he pressed inside to find Dan's prostate. Phil's own hips were kicking, desperate with desire, desperate for more, but Dan wasn't giving it to him and Phil thought he was going to cry, because his orgasm was arching, cresting, and he was almost there - "Dan!" Phil screamed the words muffled against Dan's skin as Dan suddenly took him whole - just in time, too. Phil's hips pushed up, up, up, and Dan was swallowing around him, and his orgasm was there, his orgasm was there ripping through him unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He could feel himself pumping, pumping, pumping into Dan's mouth, the feeling never ending and amazing as Phil mouthed lazily at Dan's hole, moaning around him and pressing his fingers hard into Dan's prostate, desperate to milk him but so overcome with pleasure he couldn't even think anymore.

As soon as Dan took Phil all the way into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and opening his throat, Phil was coming. Dan let out a moan of pleasant surprise, his eyelashes fluttering at the feeling of Phil coming undone in his mouth, the way his hips stuttered and his cock pulsed as cum shot down Dan's throat. He made sure to swallow all of it, sucking Phil down to the best of his ability. This was what pleasure was, Dan decided, and it was then that Phil decided to jab his fingers hard into Dan's prostate. Dan gasped, choking a bit around Phil's length as the pleasure flowed through his body so intensely that he was suddenly coming as well, right onto Phil's still-clothed chest. He didn't move his mouth off of Phil because Phil was still orgasming but his mouth went slack, allowing Phil to buck up into his throat while Dan's hips jerked of their own accord. Phil's fingers were still pressing into him in just the right way, and Dan was moaning loudly, still kind of choking, but it was that feeling that made his orgasm the most intense one he'd ever had, pushing back into Phil's fingers and tongue while his brain went blissfully blank. He could have sworn he'd passed out for a second, but when he came to, he pulled away from Phil's horribly spit-ridden and spent cock, and just kind of collapsed. If Phil wanted him to move, he'd have to move Dan himself because he was pretty sure he was incapable of doing so right then after that mind-blowing experience.

For a while, Phil just kind of drifted. His cock kept twitching, and he was so fucking sensitive, but he liked the feeling of Dan's hot, wet mouth still pressed over him, liked the way he could feel Dan unraveling as well, hips canting against Phil's fingers and mouth until he had fallen apart as well. He was choking, Phil could feel that much, but there was something about the way Dan moved against him that gave Phil the idea that Dan was enjoying that, enjoying choking on Phil's dick as Phil did his best to help Dan ride out his orgasm. He couldn't do much more than whine pitifully as he lapped at Dan's sensitive rim, fingers still tense against the bundle of nerves deep inside of Dan, but it seemed to be enough, as soon enough, Dan was collapsing against him, pulling his mouth from Phil's dick reluctantly. Phil, meanwhile, was too fucking exhausted to move. HIs entire body had this amazing sensation of relief flowing through it, but mostly, he just felt too broken to move. It was a miracle he managed to get his fingers out of Dan's ass, but even then, he just kind of held Dan's hips there, pressing soft, pointless kisses all over his sensitive skin. He had no words, no energy left, and could have quite happily have died right then and there. The sexual tension was finally broken, but the orgasm had been the best thing Phil had ever experienced.

Phil was laying soft kisses against Dan's skin, everywhere that he could reach, and Dan hummed gratefully. He just laid there for a while, head resting on Phil's thigh, until he was getting tired of not seeing Phil's face. Only then did he clamber off, only to turn himself around and burrow into Phil's arms. For some reason he was feeling particularly delicate then, not even caring that Phil was still wearing his soiled shirt and staining his own, as he basked in the feeling of Phil holding him. Dan pressed a light kiss to Phil's jaw, his eyelids heavy. "Love you," Dan murmured against the skin there. "You always take such good care of me." He didn't care about anything else in that moment, just loving the way Phil felt against him, head still fuzzy from his orgasm.

It was really disappointing when Dan started to move, pulling his soft bottom away from Phil's willing lips as he clambered off of him. Phil made a soft whining noise, but he didn't even have the strength to pull Dan back and make him stay. He was relieved, then, when Dan didn't go far, merely turning his body around and burrowing himself into Phil's arms. Phil moved to wrap his own arms around Dan, holding him as tight and as close as he possibly could when he felt so fucking weak. "I love you, Dan," Phil managed in response, squeezing just that tiny bit tighter. "Glad you - taught me," he managed kissing the side of Dan's head with the last of his energy, eyes already firmly closed as he lay under Dan's weight. "Wanted to do that for you so bad."

Dan hummed, smiling at Phil's words. He couldn't even bring himself to say anything else, already so fucking comfortable that he felt as though he was going to fall asleep right then and there. Phil was just so comfortable, his arms securely around Dan's waist as he held him close, his breath tickling Dan's cheek. After such an amazing orgasm, it wasn't hard to understand when Dan actually did fall asleep, nuzzled up to Phil like Phil was his own personal teddy bear.

**

Dan didn't know how long he was out, but soon he was waking up to the sound of the doorknob rattling and muttered voices on the other side. Dan was hazy when he first woke up, eyelashes fluttering, until he realized what was happening and shot up straight, tugging his leggings back on. "Phil! Get up!" Dan hissed quietly, trying to wipe the terrible stain off of both of their shirts. It didn't really work, but it'd have to do for now. "Dan! Phil! We know you're in there!" Mariah's voice called through the door, and Dan allowed himself to relax but still made Phil pull his jeans up all the way before he opened the door. He was greeted by the smiling faces of Mariah and Caleb, who's eyes immediately flickered to the stain on Dan's shirt. Caleb snorted. "Well at least we know why they left dinner so early," he teased. Dan glared at his friends. He hated them so much. "Fuck off and let us be," he whined.

Phil woke to the unpleasant sound of Dan freaking the fuck out, and managed an unintelligent groan of "What?" before Dan was tossing Phil's boxers and jeans at his face, hands rubbing furiously at Phil's shirt as Phil moaned and tried to sit up, beyond confused and a little distressed. He'd been particularly comfortable all wrapped up in Dan like that, half naked and taking the excuse to actually sleep with Dan for once. He was disgruntled right up until the moment he heard Mariah's voice shouting through the door, and then he was shooting into a sitting position and yanking his boxers up his legs. Mortified, Phil just managed to get his trousers on before Dan was going and opening the door - so much for dignity. Phil did up his zip with cheeks so red, he thought if someone touched him he might actually manage to burn them. He couldn't meet any of their friends eyes as he stared miserably past them to see it was still dark out. Still night, then. They must not have slept as long as Phil would have liked. In fact, Phil could still feel the warm buzz under his skin from the best oragasm of his life, and his blush burned hotter.

"Sorry Dan! We just noticed that you both hadn't come back to the cabins and we were worried about you," Mariah told him. She looked a bit dejected at Dan's annoyance and he couldn't bring himself to stay so mad at her when she was obviously just worried. Dan shrugged. "It's fine. What time is it?" "Just past midnight," Caleb said. Dan glanced over at Phil just to see him avoiding everyone's gaze and he cracked a smile. Phil still looked a bit wrecked. His hair was everywhere and he had the biggest stain on his shirt that nobody could have missed even if they’d tried. Dan hadn't even thought about trying to make sure his hair looked good, especially since his hair was always wild without a straightener. He must have forgotten Phil's own decency. Oops. "We should probably head to bed then," Dan said softly. He really just wanted to stay here with Phil but he couldn't risk being caught again.

Phil was hardly listening. He was just too damn embarrassed, even though he knew he had no reason to be. He wasn't in the least bit embarrassed by Dan, nor was he shy about the fact that they did have sex, but he was a bit mortified to have been caught looking like... well, a mess. He didn't want anyone to see just how wrecked Dan could make him, because it felt like something intimate, something Phil wanted to keep to himself. He reached up and ruffled his hair back into place, and then finally stood, turning his gaze on Dan because Dan always relaxed him. True to form, Phil found himself grinning softly, and he finally made his way over to Dan's side. "Ah, right. Bed," Phil said, trying to awkwardly insert himself into the conversation as he took Dan's hand in his and squeezed. The others were giggling a little, but mostly they were behaving themselves. "Sorry ah - about this. And earlier."

"No need to apologize, Phil," Caleb chuckled and Dan was glad that the twins had decided to behave themselves for once. Normally, they were extremely childish about this sort of thing, but something made them understand that now wasn't exactly the best time to joke about Dan and Phil's sex life. Phil seemed so embarrassed that Dan just wanted to drag him away from everything, to make sure he was alright and to kiss that terrified look from his face. But they couldn't do that now because Dan's friends were there so he just reached out and entwined their fingers instead, smiling gently at Phil. They began to walk back to the cabins, chattering nonchalantly until they had to part their separate ways. Thankfully, the twins didn't mention their obvious state and Dan and Phil didn't comment either. When they left Phil and Dan alone, Dan turned to his boyfriend and brought him into a sweet kiss. "Sorry for waking you up like that," Dan murmured against his lips. "Wish I could have just slept with you the entire night."

Slowly, Phil began to relax as Dan and their friends walked back to their cabins in a loud, chattering group who were being far more respectful than they had to be about having caught Dan and Phil post-sex. The cum stains on Phil's shirt were impossible to explain away, as well, so it wasn't as though the others didn't have enough fodder to use against them, and yet they didn't. It reminded Phil again of why they'd chosen to share with their friends in the first place - for all their good natured teasing, they seemed to know where to draw the line. As soon as he and Dan were alone, however, Dan was dragging Phil into a sweet kiss, the kind of kiss Phil would have preferred to wake up to rather than what he had woken up to. "Mm," he hummed, pulling Dan back in for another sweet draw of their mouths together. "'S okay," he mumbled against Dan's lips, eyes closed and body completely loose limbed even now. "One day, never gonna let you leave my bed," Phil added, and kissed Dan a third time, sucking sweetly on his bottom lip and trying to get across just how much he loved and appreciated Dan. He still couldn't completely comprehend that today had even happened.

Dan smiled as Phil kissed him, making him feel as if he was the most precious human in existence. Phil always made Dan feel like that and it was amazing to know just how much Phil loved him. Dan sighed happily and embraced Phil for a moment, basking in the events of the night. He was so glad they were comfortable enough to do sexual things together now, it was the best thing in the world. "I'll be holding you up on that offer," Dan told him, leaning down to kiss him again. "Sweet dreams, and thank you for the best night ever. I love you." Dan kissed all over Phil's face, grinning widely, and then made his way into his cabin. If only they could actually fall asleep together for the entire night.

**

Wednesday dawned bright and early, reminding Phil with a frown that camp was nearly over. He knew he should be happy for that, looking forward to the chance to have Dan over and in his room, in his bed, where there would be more privacy once his mum calmed down a bit about Phil having a boyfriend at all, but it was bittersweet, because Phil had so many memories of Dan here at camp now. It was difficult to consider the fact that soon, Dan and Phil would have to leave - leaving behind their friends and some pretty amazing memories, if Phil did say so himself. Virginity might have been a construct, but in a way, Phil still felt like he'd lost his here, or at least lost a sense of innocence, and gained something just as special and amazing in Dan. He dressed quickly, eager to get back to fencing so he could kick Dan's ass, and hadn't so much as made it the lounge before Dan was there, stood in front of him with the sweetest grin of all on his face. Phil quite literally melted, leaning in to kiss Dan good morning. "Hey, you," he greeted once he'd pulled away.

As soon as the morning arrived, Dan jumped out of bed, excited for the rest of the day. He did his usual morning routine of taking a shower, brushing his teeth, and getting dressed while glowering in the mirror about his awful hobbit hair, before practically launching himself out of the room and over to Phil's cabin. Usually it was Phil who was meeting him in his cabin, but Dan was excited because in only a couple of days, the camp was producing a talent show and Dan really wanted to do it with Phil. He grinned widely as soon as he saw Phil, accepting a soft kiss before speaking. "Hi," Dan said, grabbing Phil's hand in both of his. His eyes turned wide and serious, as if he was about to pop a huge question. His words came out in a giant whoosh, excited to the point where he was practically quivering. "The camp puts on a talent show on the last Friday of the month. Did you want to do a duet with me?"

Phil was a bit taken aback when all the air seemed to rush out of Dan's lungs in one go, and the words that came out took him by surprise. A talent show? And Dan wanted to sing a duet with him? Slowly, a little smile pulled up the corners of Phil's lips and he stared at Dan curiously. "A talent show, hmm? Does this have anything to do with your desperate need for attention?" Phil teased, laughing when Dan pouted and shoved at his chest. Phil immediately reached out and took Dan's hand back in his, pulling him close. "If it'll make you happy," Phil whispered, "Of course I'll sing a duet with you on Friday." The answering beaming smile he got in return made it all worth it to Phil, and he grinned as Dan dragged him close for a sweet kiss. It was a bit awkward as Dan couldn't stop smiling, but Phil didn't mind. "So what are we singing?" Phil asked as soon as Dan had pulled away from him.

Dan glared at Phil and shoved him, but it didn't stop the wide smile from taking over his face as his boyfriend teased him. "I do not like attention that much!" Dan whined, but the words sounded like a lie even to himself. So what if he liked to be loud and a little obnoxious? He wasn't an attention whore; he knew people far worse than he was, but then Phil was dragging him in closer, saying that he'd do it if it made Dan happy, and Dan was once again awed by just how lovely his boyfriend was. Even as Phil brought him into a kiss, Dan couldn't stop smiling which made the kiss a bit awkward, but it ultimately didn't matter. They were too comfortable with each other to care about awkward kisses anymore. "You're seriously the best!" Dan exclaimed, a gleam in his eye. "I was thinking we could sing a High School Musical song? Like Breaking Free? Since I'm such a slut for Troy Bolton, obviously."

Phil blinked in shock for a moment as Dan immediately suggested a High School Musical song, and had to shake himself with the reminder that, well, duh Dan would pick something from those silly movies. His boyfriend owned High School Musical merch, and Phil had heard him singing the catchy songs with his friends more than enough times to realize that it shouldn't have come as a surprise at all. Slowly, he shook his head, smiling again as he rolled his eyes and drew Dan in. "Yeah, yeah. Sure. Sounds great," he decided, and smushed his mouth to the top of Dan's head for extra measure, a reminder of just how much he loved his boyfriend. "But I don't remember the lyrics, so if you want it to be a successful talent show, you're going to have to teach me," he said, deliberating, a quick gleam coming to his eyes. Slowly, he leaned in close, and nipped at Dan's ear. "I don't want to make a fool out of myself, so I refuse to do anything more than kiss you again until you've taught me the entire song. And how to sing it well enough not to get laughed at."

Dan beamed as Phil told him that he would be fine with performing a song from High School Musical, but that quickly turned to a glower when his boyfriend decided to be a right dick about it. "You- you what?!" Dan sputtered, glaring at his snickering boyfriend. Depending on how musically inclined Phil was, this could either go really smoothly, or really terribly. Dan was betting on the latter. "Well, fine then! Looks like I'll just have to get to work." Dan's frown quickly turned into a smirk. Phil was just as horny as Dan was, if not more, so he could have some fun with this. "But if you cave in before I teach you, I get to tell you to do whatever I want." He trailed his finger down Phil's chest seductively, licking his lips as he did so. He could do this. How hard could it possibly be to go without sex for a couple of days?

Phil shuddered under Dan's touch, unable to help himself as Dan trailed seductive fingers down Phil's chest while licking his lips. The sight made Phil's breath catch, and he had to stop a moment to pull himself together. His eyes closed, and he swallowed determinedly. Last night, they'd had the most mind blowing sex... Phil could wait for another go, if it meant not embarrassing himself. Besides, with a challenge like that, how could he refuse? "Fine," Phil agreed, swallowing thickly. "Look's like we've both got a tough road ahead of us, then."

**

Contrary to Dan's belief, it was not easy. Of course, their entire relationship wasn't based off of sex and they actually enjoyed spending time with each other, but they were still at the stage where everything was so raw and new that they just wanted to touch all the time. Dan was getting more and more irritated by the minute and he could tell Phil was as well by the way they had to keep putting a hold on their makeout sessions in order to compose themselves. Dan then made it his mission to teach Phil how to sing as soon as possible, making them spend hours in the theatre during workshops just working on the songs. Phil was... terrible. He wasn't exactly an awful singer, but he was just a bumbling mess where he stuttered over his words and didn't know how to stop making himself sound drunk off his ass. Oftentimes, Dan would have to tell him to stop just because he couldn't stop laughing over how Phil sounded. He was improving, though, as the day wore on, and Dan had to wonder whether or not that was because the sexual tension was getting unbearable, or because Phil was actually becoming more confident.

The whole thing was a mess. Dan didn't seem to get that Phil had a lot of fear when it came to doing anything in front of other people, and while it was okay when it was just Dan and their friends, every time they stopped for a singing lesson, Phil found that terror rising in him, the knowledge that other people were going to hear him sing. He really wanted Dan to teach him, though, really wanted to make his boyfriend happy, and so despite the fact that they both had to keep stopping their lessons to laugh at Phil, Phil couldn't find it in himself to completely mind. He enjoyed it, even, and was happy to be growing a little more confident, because the more times he had to stop making out with Dan because they weren't able to go any further, the more unhappy Phil grew. He wanted more, and he felt ridiculous for being so... so... horny all the time, but it was hard. Everything was still so fresh and new, and Dan was intoxicating. Phil loved all the time he spent with Dan, but... intimacy was something he was quickly finding himself craving. Besides, he liked touching Dan, and there was nothing wrong with a healthy sex life. By Thursday morning during workshops, Phil was beginning to feel far more confident in his singing, and he knew all the lyrics to the song now, so that was a plus. "How was that?" he asked, giggling as he stopped singing and found Dan was frowning up at him, but not quite laughing this time.

Finally, finally, Phil had all of the words down and he was actually sounding like he wasn't drunk all of the time. Dan was extremely proud of him, excited that Phil was doing well and seeming to enjoy himself. Phil's voice was a bit deeper than Dan's, so he was singing Troy's part while Dan was singing Gabriela's. He didn't know if that was why Phil seemed to be having such a hard time or if it was just because he literally didn't know how to sing very well, but by thursday morning, Dan was ready to burst with pride. Phil still needed a little bit of work, but they had an entire day to practice and it was looking good. If Dan was lucky, he might even be able to be sexually satisfied by tonight. Dan was sitting on the couch, staring up at Phil with a slight frown of concentration as Phil asked how he'd done. "Really good," Dan told him seriously, allowing a smile to slowly raise on his lips. "You're doing so well, Phil. We're going to sound amazing." Dan stood up and crowded into Phil, kissing him lightly on the lips. "We are going to be the cutest couple on stage with our amazing duet."

Phil was admittedly a little nervous for Dan's reply because he was frowning, so he shoved his fingers in his trouser pockets and rocked on his heels as he waited for a reply from Dan. The slow grin that came over his boyfriend's features made Phil grin as well, and then Dan was there, crowding into him as he kissed Phil lightly on the lips. Phil closed his eyes, expecting more, but it didn't come. He frowned, sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, but smiled again as Dan reassured him that they were going to sound amazing. "Good. I'm glad," he admitted. "I don't want to embarrass us both," he added, and then wrapped an arm around Dan's waist and dragged him closer. Phil liked when Dan crowded into his space. Phil pressed his face into the crook of Dan's neck, and just held him. He was really starting to regret the agreement they'd made, but it had gotten Dan to take Phil seriously when he'd said he needed to be taught how to sing so he wouldn't make a fool of himself.

Dan smiled as Phil held him close. He always loved when Phil held him like this. It made him feel safe, made him feel as if there was nothing wrong in the world. He wrapped his arms around Phil's waist and held him close, burying his nose in Phil's hair and inhaling the sweet scent of his boyfriend. "I love you so much," Dan murmured, closing his eyes and just holding Phil against him. Soon it was going to be time for lunch, and then they were going to go to painting class. Dan was excited because he was going to be able to work more on the portrait of Phil and then hopefully have it finished by Saturday. He wanted something that Phil could take home from here, something that made him remember all of the fun times they'd had at camp. When the lunch bell rang, Dan didn't want to part from Phil's nice hold. But he did anyways, complaining all the while. Hopefully they would be able to spend some more time together that night. Then, Dan was going to absolutely attack his boyfriend.

Phil sighed as the lunch bell went off, forcing both men to let go of each other in order to head back to the cafeteria. If Phil had had his way, he would have practiced singing some more so he could convince Dan that he was ready and they could go back to...intimate time together. As it was, he was kind of hungry, and they had painting class next - which meant that Dan could maybe hopefully finish his painting of Phil. Feeling a bit better and lighter at the prospect of that, Phil took Dan's hand in his and allowed them both to head out. He nudged Dan's shoulder a little with his own, tossing him a grin. "So you're gonna finish my painting, right? Cause I kinda need something to hang on my wall so I can say hey, look what my boyfriend made me, to anyone who's willing to listen."

Hearing that Phil wanted to hang his painting on the wall to brag about it made Dan's entire body erupt with sparks of happiness. There was nothing he wanted more than for Phil to tell everybody about the painting Dan did for him. He wanted everyone to know about it, wanted everyone to understand just how much he loved Phil. Dan was fucking cheesy, but he couldn't help it when he had a boyfriend like Phil. "I'm definitely going to finish your painting. I have most of you done so I just have to work on the finer details so you won't have to sit there for hours on end this time." He nudged Phil with his shoulder, smiling. "I'll make sure to do my best on it so you can gloat about it to all of your friends."

Phil felt warm all over, and he couldn't stop smiling stupidly as Dan talked about his painting and how he was nearly done with it. Two days ago, Dan had said he'd nearly finished up Phil, so Phil knew that at the very least he wouldn't be posing all day - not that he minded. Phil loved posing for Dan, loved watching him work, and had a feeling he'd be doing the same rather than working on his own painting once he was free to settle in while Dan finished up with whatever else he planned to do to it. "You better," he griped playfully as they made their way into the cafeteria to catch up with the rest of their friends. All of lunch was spent talking about the talent show, and how everyone was working so hard to get ready, and it was overall good. Phil couldn't wait to see his friends acts, let alone have them see his own, and blushed as Dan complimented his own abilities in teaching Phil. Phil was just glad to make Dan proud.

After lunch, everybody split up to do their own activities, Caleb and Clarice having to leave the group with pouting faces. Dan was just excited to be able to have the chance to paint again. If it were up to him, he would be painting every single day. However, he had other people to complain about it if he did, so he just sucked up all the time he possibly could when he had the chance. As soon as they got to the studio, Dan relaxed from the smell of paints and dragged Phil back over to the stool to get started. This time, he just had to focus on the little aspects of Phil, like the beauty marks and the pretty pink of his cheeks. Then he would be able to start the background, which was making him excited to the point where he was having trouble sitting still. "I'll tell you when you can move," Dan told his boyfriend softly as he got out his paints. Thus began the next two hours where Dan was hunched over a canvas, squinting with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth while he made thin strokes of the paintbrush, alternating between dipping it in the water and then the paint. After about thirty minutes, Dan finished painting Phil and sat back to admire his work. He still had to do the background, so it wasn't completely finished, but he grinned at the product so far. "It's looking really good, I think!" Dan exclaimed. "You can move now. I just have to work on the background."

Phil was so mesmerized with watching Dan paint, that he actually forgot to notice that he was stuck sitting still once again. At least this time, Dan wasn't complaining that Phil kept smiling at him, as Phil really couldn't find it in himself to stop. He just really liked the way Dan looked when he was happy and passionate about something the way he was with painting. Phil wondered if it was something Dan would want to do later on in life... he was startled out of his thoughts by Dan dismissing him, telling him he had nothing left to paint except for the background, and Phil immediately stood up, trying to make his way over to Dan so he could get a look of the painting himself. "Can I see?" he begged, giving Dan his best puppy dog eye's. "Please?" he whined, as Dan shifted to move his canvas with him, glaring at Phil and shaking his head all the while.

Dan shook his head at Phil's question, glaring at him and swatting him away. "No way! Not until it's finished!" he exclaimed. He wanted Phil to see the finished project so his mind would be blown. That, and Dan often became self conscious when people watched him do art, whether they were just admiring the way it looked or if they were watching in general. Dan hated feeling like people were judging him work, he performed much better without an audience. Phil pouted and sat on the other side of Dan where he couldn't see Dan's work, getting his own paints and paper situated. They fell into a little pattern of artwork, eventually bursting into quiet song when Dan began to hum his part for the talent show. It resulted in them practically serenading each other across the table, but Dan was smiling so largely that he didn't mind the curious stares they got from their peers. He was happy and they could all fuck off.

At Dan's refusal to let Phil see his work, Phil slunk away sadly, drawing forth a table and a chair as well as some art supplies so he could sit in front of Dan and start working on his own project - a really shitty painting of his boyfriend from memory, because Phil couldn't paint for shit but he kind of wanted to give Dan something anyways (and if he painted a giant heart around Dan's head, well, he wasn't embarrassed because he was rather in love with his boyfriend.) When the two of them burst into song, Phil couldn't help smiling, because he was growing to actually really love this song, and it was something that made Dan happy, so how could he regret the strange looks they were getting? Plus, it was good practice for when they got up on stage tomorrow. Phil shivered in anticipation just at the thought of it, remembering again that in three days, he and Dan would be going their separate ways. At least for a little while; Phil couldn't imagine either one of them would be willing to be far from each other for very long, and what with them living in the same city, there really was no reason for it at all.

The singing really helped to make time go by faster. Dan was painting a beautiful array of colours behind the Phil in his painting, a galaxy that really wouldn't be finished without the last touch planned for Saturday, but he was finished with all of it except for the stars. That would come for next time, though, because he wouldn't be able to do much else with the entire canvas being such a sopping mess of colours. So when the bell for dinner rang, Dan made sure Phil couldn't see his painting while he hung it to dry, marveling at the beautiful mess he'd made. Dan really couldn't wait to add the stars; right now, it looked like a mass of colour behind Phil's head so he was sure it was going to be a hundred times more beautiful when he could tell what the background was actually supposed to be. When he was finished hanging it, Dan turned and grinned at his boyfriend. "I have to say, your singing is really going well. I think you're pretty much ready for tomorrow." He had tried to make his voice as nonchalant as possible, but it ended up sounding a bit seductive with the underlying meaning behind it. He honestly couldn't believe he was so horny.

Once again, Phil found himself a little disappointed that when the dinner bell went, Dan didn't move to let Phil have his painting; instead, he watched as his boyfriend once again moved to hide it from Phil's view while it dried, muttering under his breath about it being too wet with water color to share with Phil just then. Pouting, Phil looked down at his own mess of an art piece, and had just picked it up to hand to Dan when his boyfriend sauntered over and started talking in a low, seductive voice that made heat surge to Phil's cock almost instantly. He turned to Dan with suddenly flushed cheeks and murmured almost as huskily, "You think?" He wasn't so sure they were ready, but he wanted Dan just as much as Dan seemed to want him, and if Phil was honest, he'd regretted the stupid agreement he'd made with Dan almost instantly after having made it. The only upside to it was the fact that he hadn't allowed himself to get distracted from learning to sing by Dan's touches, so he was going to count it as a win. "Do I detect something else in that tone, Daniel?" Phil asked, practically purring as he pushed his painting into Dan's hands, grinning before he pulled away. "Whatever it is, it'll have to wait until after dinner."

Dan hummed, smiling when Phil's cheeks turned a pretty shade of peony pink. His boyfriend was seriously the cutest. "We could probably squeeze in a little bit of practice tomorrow but I'm positive that you won't embarrass yourself on stage." Dan grinned at Phil's next words, throwing his hands up in surrender. "What can I say? I'm a horny teenage boy who can't stay away from his sexy boyfriend." It was then that Phil was pushing his own painting into Dan's hands, and Dan's next words died in his throat as he looked at it. It wasn't nearly as extravagant as one of Dan's paintings, but was rather simple. It was clearly Dan with his brown fringe and smiling face, a sloppy red heart behind his head. Dan's entire body felt warm and he smiled at Phil, crowding into him and holding him close. "I love it," Dan whispered. "Thank you, I love you." He couldn't believe that somebody would actually take the time to draw a picture of him, no matter how well-done it was. It was the best gift Dan had ever received.

Phil hadn't been expecting Dan to hug him or thank him for the cruddy drawing, and he ended up wrapping his own arms back around Dan in confused surprise. It wasn't even that good. Phil couldn't figure out why Dan sounded so happy about it, but he held him back anyway and dug his face into Dan's neck, just breathing there because he could. "It's nothing," he complained back. "But I love you too, and you're welcome," he replied, embarrassed and very, very confused. His hands moved to hold Dan tighter, and then he was pushing him away. "Come on, then. Let's get to dinner. Then I promise you can have anything you want afterwards?"

"It's everything," Dan assured quietly, smiling into the hug. Phil sounded so surprised that he'd liked it so much, but how couldn't he when the person who meant the most to him had painted something for him? Dan would probably keep it hung on his wall, if he was being honest. They were separating all too soon and Dan let out a noise of complaint that was soon quieted by Phil telling them to go to dinner. Dan chuckled. "Anything I want?" he asked, biting back a smile. "And what does that insure?" Honestly, he would just be happy with making out for a while, but he would probably be a little ecstatic if he and Phil could fool around again. Besides, Phil's singing was great and Dan deserved some mindblowing sex for being sexually frustrated for two days for no good reason.

Phil still didn't understand Dan's enthusiasm for his shitty painting, but he'd accept it anyway because there was nothing else he could do. Smiling warmly at Dan, Phil leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before finally turning around and beginning to actually lead Dan out of the now empty art room. They were the last to head out, including their friends who'd taken off without them. Phil didn't mind - it gave him room to tease Dan a little, and he turned to wink at Dan when he asked if he could have anything. "Anything," Phil agreed. "Literally anything. I mean, you kind of deserve it for putting up with my terrible singing, so anything you want, you shall recieve," Phil promised, grinning as he turned back around. "But hurry up. I'm starving, and probably a little more strung up than I probably should be. You're not the only horny teenager here, you know."

Dan threw his head back and laughed, glad that he wasn't the only horny teenager out of the two. He reached over and entwined his fingers with Phil's, grinning widely at him. "Well I'll just have to think of something good then," Dan murmured, but honestly he didn't think he could choose. They'd done so many things, all of which felt absolutely amazing. How could he choose from them all? "Maybe I'll just let you have your way with me. At this point, I think anything we do together would feel amazing." They soon came to the dining hall, which Dan almost catapulted himself into. He wanted to finish his meal as soon as he possibly could so that they could finally get along to doing more. Dan just couldn't help how badly he's been craving Phil. For now, he just had to deal with cramming food down his throat as fast as humanly possible.

Phil felt another flush of heat rush down his spine as Dan suggested letting Phil have his way with him, and his cheeks burned hot as blood coursed down. His mind kept spinning with the possibilities, but mostly, he just wanted to kiss Dan some more, maybe body worship him again because Phil just loved the way it felt to kiss and lick all over Dan's body, not to mention licking at his belly button. Phil groaned a little as he imagined fingering Dan open for him again, tongue fucking his belly button all over again. He had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second to get himself back under control, and then he found that he and Dan had arrived at the cafeteria. Phil really shook himself then, laughing as Dan rushed inside to get his meal - Phil had the uncanny feeling that he wasn't that hungry, and smirked to himself as he went about leisurely putting together his own.

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