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tiny-winter-cupcake · 6 years

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I long to hear you sing (beneath the clear blue skies)

Summary: “Don’t.”

Phil lowered his hand almost automatically, the voice like melted honey, soft and smooth. He had never heard anything like it, a voice that made him want to fall to his knees and grovel. Phil wanted to worship this creature, worship its voice. It spoke again.

“Come.”

There it was again. That sweet voice. And who was Phil to deny such a sweet request.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: Teen (theres like a bit of unspecified voilence and like, thats it?)

A/N:My @phandombigbang fic, FINALLY. listen i’m super proud of this, and i never thought that I would be able to do this whole thing! a huge shout out to my lovely beta @phinalphantasy7 for putting up all my shit, and to @luisaloveshoney who did the wonderful art HERE. the title is from Marc Anthony’s You Sang To Me. and as always please like and reblog! thank y’all so much!!

Philip Lester, the youngest water witch of the Lester clan, had been living with his family for his whole 31 years of life, and frankly, their old familial home in South Manchester was far too crowded. So naturally, he decided to move out. His family owned a rather nice summer home in Dorset, in a little town called Seaport, named for the large number of water witches that ended up there in the summertime. Much like Phil’s family, all who possessed the kind of abilities associated with the water. Phil could remember taking many family holidays down there, stopping after he went to Uni. Since then, the house had sat unused, and rather than let it go to waste, or worse, be sold, Phil was following his water witch instincts and moving out there. It was strange to leave his parents, but he found that he was oddly happy to move out.

The car ride down to the cottage was long, and by the time Phil reached there, it was well past dinner time, despite leaving after an early brunch. He pulled into the driveway of the cottage and looked at it. Even though it had sat unused for the better part of ten years, the walls were still as white as Phil could remember. The inside, though dusty and filled with cobweb-covered corners, still had its beachy, summer home feel that had made younger Phil and his family feel at ease. It was just as he remembered. He smiled, putting his suitcase down and flopping down into the couch. Looking over at the wood burner, Phil pointed and whispered, “Ignis.” And just like that, a fire started, warming the room almost immediately. Magical fires did that. Phil settled down, before remembering that there were beds upstairs, ones that were probably much more comfortable than this couch. What a pity. The couch seemed heaven compared to the car seat he had been in for the last six hours. The supposed four and a half hours to Seaport took an hour and a half longer than expected, which meant an extra hour and a half in the stupid car more than he had planned for. Phil sighed and closed his eyes. He was just about to drift off when his stomach made an appearance, startling him awake with the echo it made. With a grumble, he got up and trudged to the kitchen.

Thankfully there was no stale food in the kitchen, his family having enough sense to throw away all the perishable foods. There wasn’t much he could eat though, so getting food became his number one priority for tomorrow. For now, Phil would have to settle for the slightly soggy half eaten sandwich he’d gotten at a stop about three hours ago. It tasted like disappointment, but nevertheless, Phil ate it before he went upstairs. He was about to go into his old room when he stopped. He was living here now. He could sleep in what used to be his parents’ room, with their ensuite and all. Phil decided that he wanted to sleep in a big bed, and made his way down the hall to the bedroom. It looked the same as he remembered, with different bedding. He sat down on it with a smile as the memories of sleeping in here when there was a thunderstorm, or when he had watched a scary movie with Martyn, came flooding back. Phil bit his lip, and got up to use the bathroom. Once showered, he made his way over to unpack his suitcase, and fell into bed, utterly exhausted. Needless to say, he slept very well that night.

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

The next morning, Phil was reminded of why his family came here for centuries. The sun streamed in through the windows, golden sunshine that lit up the rooms. It made the bedroom warm, and Phil almost didn’t want to get up. But the rumble in his stomach made him. Yawning, he got out of bed and smiled. For once, he was awoken by his own natural needs instead of people shouting or the neighbors’ babies crying through the walls of the house. Phil got out of bed, stretching as he walked into his bathroom. (He had to keep reminding himself it was his and not his family’s. It was his house now.) A quick shower later, and Phil pulled on a pair of shorts and a teal button up shirt. Perfect. He slipped a pair of shoes on, grabbed his phone and his keys, and headed out.

Standing in the light of day, Phil could really appreciate the house. Thatched roof and all. It was really pretty in the daytime, just around the corner from the high street and right on the beach. A nice village, that had grown a little in Phil’s absence. Small, but pretty. Latching the gate, he tucked his keys into his pocket and walked down the high street.

The village was mostly still familiar. There was the diner, Andersons American, that did the best American style pancakes in the whole of England. Some of the elder residents sat outside, sipping cold waters under the shade of the umbrellas. Across the street, the grocer was outside setting up his fresh produce in the sun. The peacefulness of the main street was disturbed only by the occasional car driving past and the laughter of children floating by as they rushed to the beaches. Police station next to the fire station and the officers gave Phil a nod as he strolled by. There was a kid selling lemonade on the corner of the high street and Beach Road, something Phil remembered doing with his friends so they could buy an ice cream later. Of course, Phil bought a glass, the drink refreshing, cutting the edge off the warm summer air.

There were a few restaurants further down Beach Road, a seafood place Phil remembered from his childhood. As he walked closer to the center of the village, he saw the farmers market surrounded the fountain in the shape of a fish spitting water. People tossed pennies into the fountain, making wishes. There had to be some kind of magic behind it because every wish Phil made in his youth came true. He had had his first kiss on the edge of the fountain, with a local girl named Annie. Annie and her brother, PJ, along with a few other locals and summertime regulars, made up Phil’s friend group during most of his childhood summers.

He walked through the market, seeing some people he used to know and smiling to himself. He had changed quite a lot since he had last been here. But it meant he could more or less fade into the background. He purchased some cheese, bread, and a few different jams from some of the stalls before continuing up the street.

Phil smiled at the memories as they came to him as he passed the church, with the pub (ironically) attached. He had spent many happy hours hanging out upstairs at that pub in the kids’ space with its sofas, pool table, and tv with games consoles. He turned around at the end of the street to walk back down to Beach Road, all the way to the beach itself which was just as pretty as the pictures Phil had kept. The view of the English Channel was stunning, its green-blue waters lapping gently against the shore, leaving smooth pebbles and seashells in its wake.

Phil stood for a moment and admired the long expanse of golden sand before heading back to the grocers to buy food. He walked out fifty pounds poorer, and fifty pounds heavier, it seemed. Thankfully the walk back home was short.

Once in the house, putting things away was quick, and Phil also made quick work of cleaning the house (using magic of course: a simple cleaning spell go rid of the dust and cobwebs and made everything so much nicer) and putting his clothes away. He had a quick bit of toast for breakfast, although it was nearer to lunch now anyway, before he was heading back out to get milk and juice. The shop owner seemed a little surprised to see Phil again, and he smiled sheepishly as he explained he had just moved back to town in his family's house and he needed food and drink quite desperately. The man smiled, saying something about how he remembered that family, and he seemed to recognize Phil, but didn’t say anything if he did. On his way out, however, Phil ran into an old face. Quite literally. The two full-on smacked into each other, causing both to let out a few choice words that made the old lady walking by tut.

“Oh fuck, mate, I’m so sorry,” Phil apologized, rubbing his chin where it had hit the other person’s face. He looked down at the man he had collided with, before asking, “PJ?” PJ was more than startled.

“How do yo-Phil? Phil Lester?” PJ’s face cracked into a smile, and he pulled his old friend into a hug, which was hard on Phil’s end to reciprocate since he was holding a gallon jug of milk and a bag with apple and orange juice cartons inside. PJ didn’t seem to care, he instantly grabbed the milk from Phil and started walking towards his house. Phil laughed, and shook his head, following him.

“What are you doing back here, Phil?” PJ asked once they were settled on Phil’s deck, glasses of apple juice between them. He hadn’t changed much, still tall and lanky. His hair was shorter now, a mop of curls that fell over his kind green eyes. He was still as kind as ever.

“I moved. The family home was getting too crowded, and I wanted a change of scenery. You know my family, loud and rambunctious as ever,” Phil smiled, taking a sip. He really did love his family, but now that his aunt was living with them after her husband’s death, and Martyn was engaged to his girlfriend Cornelia as of last month, not to mention the twins his sister was having, the house was simply too crowded. And that was saying a lot because the family home in Manchester was a seven bedroom, seven and a half bathroom building. But Phil had a few older siblings, and one younger sister, all of whom seemed to be moving back in, rather than leaving like most children did. And Phil just couldn’t stay anymore, not because he didn’t love his family, but because he did need his own space, and it was bad enough he had to give Martyn his room because his fiancee was moving in and Phil’s room was bigger. Here, he was free, and he had his own reputation to make, now that he was all grown up.

“Oh, yeah, I get that. I saw Martyn got engaged, you’ll have to tell him congrats from me and Annie. She got married a few months ago, to Chris of all people. No one saw them falling in love ever happening. They wanted to invite you, but we couldn't find your address. Say, I’ll tell her you’re back, and we can get dinner, get the old gang back together!” PJ grinned, a smile so infectious that Phil started to smile too. He nodded.

“Alright, sounds like a plan. Wish I’d made the move earlier, if it meant coming to the wedding. But I’m glad they put the past behind them,” Phil smiled, and PJ was showing him pictures of the wedding. Of course, he was best man. Chris was like Phil, in more than one way. One, he was a summertime regular, and Phil assumed Chris and Annie were living in his family’s summer house on the other side of town. Two, Chris was a witch, an earthy type, like his mum. As PJ showed Phil the pictures, Phil smiled at how happy they looked, his two childhood best friends. Annie was very much like PJ, long, curly brown hair, an infectious smile, and a glint in those Liguori green eyes. She looked really pretty in the pictures, Phil had to admit. And Chris looked good too, very much in love with his wife. Phil could remember how he teased her, pulled her hair and stuff that little boys did because they were idiots. As they grew up, Chris stopped being such an ass, and one could see the beginnings of a crush when he looked at Annie.

They talked for what seemed like hours, and soon enough PJ was heading out. He was going out to dinner with his family, but promised to text Phil with a date and time for a dinner. Phil smiled, waving him off with a smile. Once gone, he sighed, looking at the dirty cups. With a flick of his wrist, the water turned on and the dishes started to wash themselves. It was honestly his favorite spell, and one that he had learned quite early on to make his chores easier. The dishes even put themselves away, a modification that Phil had added himself. With everything put away, including his clothes, Phil put his shoes back on, and decided to walk to the beach and get dinner, maybe even an ice cream.

After a comforting dinner of fish and chips, Phil walked down the beach with an ice cream in hand, humming softly to himself. He had walked so far down that he was by the caves, an old childhood haunt of his. He was almost done with his ice cream when he heard something. It was faint, and carried a melodic tune. Someone was singing, he realised after a moment. Someone was in the caves, singing. Singing beautifully. Phil felt like he was under some spell, as he got closer. The song was sad, almost eerily so. But Phil kept walking toward it, unable to stop even if he wanted too. He had to find who was singing this song. He was near the entrance of the caves when he was tackled to the ground by something large and very wet. He opened his eyes, having closed them when he was falling, feeling fur under his hands. A dog, a large sheepdog to be specific, was licking at his face. Phil laughed, trying to push him off. At that moment, a wave crashed into them, saltwater going in Phil's mouth and up his nose, making him cough and splutter. Someone pulled the dog off him, and Phil scrambled to his feet, wiping his eyes. He groaned, spitting on the ground as the dog's owner apologised profusely. He waved them off, smiling a little. He needed to change, and wash these clothes before they got stiff. Phil glanced back to the caves, and he swore he saw something move in the darkness. Something ducked behind a rock, and if he hadn’t been covered in grimy, salty water he would have gone to explore, to find out if this was the same person who had been singing.

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

Phil couldn’t sleep that night, his mind thinking about the song, and how beautiful it was. Who, or what, was singing it? And why were they in the caves? There were so many questions he needed answers to, and he resolved to find out in the morning. That thought helped to lull him to a semi-comatose state, half asleep, half awake, for the rest of the night. He ended up not going back to the beach that day, sleeping and shopping for most of the day instead. In fact, he didn’t end up back at the beach for another few days. After all, the boxes weren’t going to unpack themselves. (Actually they were but they wouldn’t be put away by themselves. That unfortunately was a job that Phil had to do by hand, by himself. It almost made him pack up and leave. Almost, but not quite.)

It was raining by the time Phil did end up back at the beach, this time determined to find out what it was that had been singing such a haunting, beautiful song. After speaking to the locals, all who proved to be little to no help, apart from one old lady at the cafe this very morning, Phil decided it would be better to just go explore for himself. The lady this morning had told him that the thing in the caves was territorial, and a savage. But apart from that, she didn't have any answers to what it was. With this in mind, Phil was walking towards where he had seen something move that first time. As he got closer, the song started to form in his ears, quieter but still just as powerful. Phil felt his heart clench, and he once again felt under a spell. He couldn’t stop walking even if he wanted. It was like his legs were locked, forcing him forward towards the mouth of the cave. The song got louder, and Phil realized that he didn’t actually understand it, although he thought he recognized the language. It was an ancient language, one that he probably should have learned from his parents. As the song carried him into the cave, he saw a fire in the distance, and a figure huddled behind it. A very human-like figure. Phil stopped himself just before the fire, the song dying in his ears as the...creature looked up at him, the fire illuminating round, rather brown eyes. The reflection of the fire in them made them seem almost golden. Or maybe Phil was just seeing things, because how could eyes be golden? The rest of the figure was shrouded in shadows; Phil could only see human-like arms hugging human-like legs that were pulled into a chest. He couldn’t see the face, or anything for that matter. He raised his hand to cast a spell to light the cavern they were in, when the person (?) spoke.

“Don’t.”

“Come.”

There it was again. That sweet voice. And who was Phil to deny such a sweet request. His legs carried him across the room. He fell to his knees in front of this creature, having never felt so calm in his life. The creature reached out and touched Phil's cheek with a surprisingly warm hand. A human hand. Phil leaned his head into its palm, smiling a little.

“Will you help me?” The voice was tentative, and Phil nodded slowly. The creature moved its hand, and the room seemed to get brighter, like millions of tiny candles had been lit. And Phil couldn’t contain his gasp as finally, he saw what was in front of him. His hand came up to cover his mouth, and he scrambled backward.

Sitting in front of Phil was arguably the most gorgeous creature that he had ever seen with his two eyes. The creature had long, slender legs, which were pulled up into its chest. Its skin was a light copper, and its eyes were golden brown. It had brown hair, curls that tumbled down to the base of its neck, and Phil had an urge to bury his face in them. Gold feather tattoos covered its legs from mid-calf to foot, and the same on its arms, ending just below the elbow. But what was even more spectacular than the rather heavenly creature in front of him were the wings of gold and black feathers spread out behind this being. Phil was stunned. He had never seen such a beautiful being. A siren, his mind supplied helpfully. The creature in front of him was a siren. The most feared sea creature, luring sailors and pirates alike to their watery graves. Phil was speechless, so much so that he almost didn’t notice the problem. A wing was broken. No wonder the siren was singing so sadly, it was lonely, and hurt.

“Help me,” the siren whispered, in that sweet voice that made Phil melt. He nodded, dumbfounded, and shuffled closer to the siren, who tensed up, then relaxed when it realised Phil meant no harm. Carefully, Phil raised a hand, and set to work fixing the siren.

The whole process took about two hours. Phil had to take regular breaks, and he was still exhausted by the time the siren took off into the air of the cavern with joy. Phil smiled, leaning back on the rocks of the cave, watching. He started to think of what he knew about sirens. Vicious, generally travelled in packs, or flocks. Very territorial. Cast magic with their voices, manipulating others to do what they wanted. They--wait, what? Phil’s smile fell, eyes widening as he realized what this siren was doing. It was using Phil! He looked up at it, chirping happily as it flew around the cavern. Phil scooted towards the exit. Just as he thought he was going to be able to escape, the siren called out.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Phil froze, stopping of his own free will. “Please,” he whispered, begged even. “Please don’t eat me.” He braced himself for the siren to somehow kill him. That didn’t happen, and the siren reached out to him, placing a hand on Phil’s cheek. “I won’t….Just please don’t leave me…” Phil found himself nodding meekly. This wasn’t how he wanted to go out, death by siren was hardly respectable. The siren chirped, and Phil looked up at it. The large wings were gone, instead replaced by a tattoo spanning the entirety of its back. For the first time, Phil took in what the siren was wearing. A short tunic, in an olive green, tied in place by a gold rope. As the siren turned, Phil saw its back, the large tattoo of its wings, the open back of its tunic. He bit his lip.

Phil couldn’t do much else than follow the siren to what he presumed was a nest of sorts. It was filled with shiny objects, and plush blankets that had quite obviously been stolen. It wasn’t small, by any means. Sirens attracted mates with large nests filled with shiny, soft objects. Phil remembered from a book he had read that sirens mated for life, and were extremely possessive of their mates. They also never let anyone else in their nests but said mates. The nest in which Phil was currently sitting, letting the siren play with his hair. He frowned at that. Maybe this siren’s mate didn’t mind. But if this siren had a mate, where was it?

“Daniel.” The siren had chirped with a smile as they sat down. At first, Phil thought he was calling to his mate, maybe that he had found them dinner, but he eventually realized that the siren was telling him his name. Daniel. It suited the creature. Phil smiled a bit, and leaned back into the siren-Dan’s hands combing through his hair. If he was going to be a prisoner, at least he could be one in semi-comfort. He smiled a little. “Where’s your mate?” He asked softly, but regretted it as he felt sharp claws dig into his scalp. “Ow! What the hell!” He scrambled away from Dan, turning to look at him with a glare.

“Don’t mention them.” Dan growled, his eyes dark, murderous even. Murder Birds, Phil’s mind supplied. Sirens had that nickname for a reason. Either way, any protests had died in Phil’s throat as soon as they’d started. It was so strange, how a siren could have that much of an effect on him. Wasn’t he supposed to be some great and powerful witch? Regardless, Dan seemed to settle down, preening himself lightly as he did so. Phil bit his lip, staying on his side of the nest. No thank you, Phil did not want to get on Dan’s side and be ruthlessly murdered. He stayed on his side, holding his knees to his chest and sighing, letting his eyes slip closed.

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

Phil looked so peaceful sleeping. It would almost be a pity to kill him. Almost, Dan decided. Besides, he needed to eat one way or another, and he really didn’t want to have to steal another dog when such a beautiful treat had wandered right in. Dan had wanted to eat him as soon as his wing had been fixed, so he could take him and go and find his mate again. But the way in which Phil had begged for his life had been so cute, Dan had decided to play with him a little. Now, he was unguarded. And he looked delicious. Dan licked his lips, settling closer to Phil and preparing for the blow to kill the human, when Phil sneezed. Dan frowned, tilting his head curiously. That was strange. He’d never seen a human do that before. Was it broken? Dan was about to look up Phils nose when it happened again, and he scrambled back, having been sprayed with something clear and wet. Ew. He sat cross legged and observed the human. He’d never seen one this up close before, never regarded them with much thought. To him, humans were simply stupid creatures, who didn’t deserve to be alive. Dan bit his lip, taking a blanket and covering the human. He was strange, and kind. But scared. Dan could sense the fear that came off this man, and he didn’t like it. He looked towards the cave entrance, remembering how Phil had tried to leave. He was selfish keeping this human here with him. He had to let Phil go, despite his appetite-now-turned-curiosity. Phil would forget about him, anyway.

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

When Phil woke up, his first thought was wondering where on Earth he was. Then he remembered. The siren. Dan. He got up, looking around for any sign of the creature, then slowly made his way to the exit. He expected to be pounced on as soon as he was at the exit, some sick joke of cat and mouse. But no, Phil made it to the exit and outside relatively unscathed. He hurried home, desperately in need of a shower, and a nap. He was somehow convinced that most of this was a dream. After all, why would there be a siren in Seaport? They were native to warmer waters. However, Phil couldn’t seem to get the beautiful face out of his mind. It plagued him when he closed his eyes, the honey-sweet voice singing softly in his ears. Fuck. Phil was trapped under a siren’s spell. And he loved it. It was intoxicating. Realistically Phil knew that he shouldn’t be head over heels with a creature that basically gets off on killing humans, but it was hard not to be. This ethereal creature was the center of his fantasies.

That night, PJ invited him over for dinner, with Chris and Annie. The house was the same as he remembered, and Phil smiled a little when he saw his friends. Annie was practically radiating when she saw Phil, giving him the biggest hug he’d ever had from her. Chris hugged him, too, which was comforting because Chris rarely gave out hugs. “What brings you down here?” Chris asked as he poured Phil a glass of wine, while PJ and Annie were out on the back porch, setting the table.

“The house was getting a little small, and there’s, like, three babies on the way. I wanted to live by myself for a little,” Phil explained, taking the offered glass and sipping.

“Well, it’s good to have another one of our kind around,” Chris smiled. “Oh, and Annie and PJ know I’m one, so you don’t have to hide it. I know you really came down here because you want to be by water. It’s only natural for a water kind to be drawn down here.” Phil smiled at that.

“You got me.” He laughed, holding his hands up in mock defense. “Say, you wouldn’t happen to know about a siren being here, would you?”

“A siren? In Seaport? Well if there is, I should think it must be crazy. I wouldn’t imagine why it would be here. Unless it was abandoned by its family on a migration?” Chris smiled a little. “I have a book on sirens you might find useful. If you want it?” Phil nodded, and Chris went to get it. It wasn’t huge, and Phil thanked Chris as he put the book in his coat pocket.

Dinner was fabulous. Annie made pasta with some kind of amazing seafood sauce, and Phil practically melted when he tried it, begging her for the recipe. Dan would like it, he thought to himself. Surprisingly, even though Phil had left, he wanted to go back to Dan, to help him. If Chris was right, he had lost his family, or his family had left him. Either way, his heart felt for the siren. Phil helped with the dishes, and the four friends sat on the porch and talked.

“Do you miss your family, Phil? I know your brother just got married, and isn’t your sister expecting? Aren’t you lonely?” Annie asked while Chris and PJ went to refill the drinks. Phil smiled.

“I suppose. But I knew that I was going to be at least a little alone when I came here. I’m not really that alone, y’know? I’ve got you guys, and I’m starting to enjoy just relaxing. Maybe I’ll get a proper job. Or I could just keep leeching off my parents. Who knows?” He laughed, and poked her in the side. “Maybe I could babysit, once you and Chris start your little family.”

“That would be lovely Phil. Thank you,” Annie said softly, looking over at him. “You seem off, if you don’t mind. Almost like you’ve met someone.” Phil laughed a little at that.

Chris and PJ came back out with the drinks, and Annie smiled, touching his arm gently. That same featherlight tough that Dan had touched him with while he had painfully worked to fix his wing. He blinked, the look of sheer joy on his siren’s face making him smile. His siren? Oh god. Abruptly, Phil stood up. “Listen, this has been wonderful, really. But I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything later!” He smiled as he rushed out of the house, stopping only to make sure he had the book from Chris. Phil could only hope, as he sprinted towards the same cave he had been glad to see the back of earlier, that Dan was still in there. He burst in, startling the siren as he was chewing on something-oh god was that sheep?-and causing his feathers to shoot out of his arms and legs, as he jumped into attack mode, honey golden eyes flashing red.

“Dan!” Phil panted, hands on his knees. “Dan, I’m not leaving you.”

The siren frowned, before lunging at Phil and silently pinning him against a wall, finger flying frantically across Phil’s chest. It took Phil a minute to understand that Dan was drawing letters to make words. He caught some phrases, like “What are you doing?” and “How do you remember me?” It was strange, trying to piece together the messily written words, but eventually he grabbed Dan’s flying finger and held it in his hands. “Slow down, slow down. It’s okay, I have plenty of time. Just, slow down.” Dan led him back into the nest, sitting down across from Phil, knees touching, with Phil’s palm facing up.

‘How can you remember me?’ Dan traced onto Phil’s palm. Phil smiled.

“I’m a water witch. Surprise…!” He smiled a little nervously. Dan had to assume that Phil was a witch, otherwise how did Phil fix his wing? But the look on Dan’s face was adorable when he realized that water witches weren’t affected by most water creature spells. And sirens were inherently water creatures. Dan placed his finger on Phil’s palm again.

‘Why are you here?’

“Because I want to be.”

‘Go away.’

“No.” Phil laughed softly, shaking his head fondly. They sat like that for a while while Dan asked questions, and Phil dutifully answered them. It didn’t occur to Phil until later, while he gently combed through Dan's hair, the siren fast asleep with his head in Phil’s lap, that he hadn’t asked Dan any questions about his past, yet had somehow agreed to let Dan stay in his house. This would certainly be odd. Good thing he had that book.

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Phil didn’t think his life could really get any weirder, then he tried smuggling an angry siren into his house. Dan was not only grumpy because he was awake early, but Phil had forced him into a coat, something that irritated his wings. Apparently he could still feel them, even though they weren’t there, something Dan had written onto his palm as Phil had struggled him into the coat. In retaliation for wearing something so irritating, he nipped at Phils bare skin all the way home. To say Dan was uncooperative was an understatement. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice the pair as Phil was unceremoniously shoving Dan into his house. Dan practically tore Phil’s coat in half to get out of it, and as soon as the garment was on the floor he was spreading his wings and preening himself. Phil was still amazed by those beautiful wings. Black and gold feathers, lush and full, spread out before Phil. Without thinking, Phil reached out to touch, gently stroking the softness before him. Dan looked mildly annoyed, but that soon melted away and he was grinning and making a noise almost like purring as he let Phil run his hands through his feathers.

Adjusting to life with this creature was odd. Firstly, Dan didn’t talk, he mainly wrote his replies or scribbled them into Phil’s skin. Dan didn’t want to trap Phil back under his spell, and Phil almost thought Dan might be growing fond of him. And secondly, Dan had taken over Phil’s bed, piling it high with pillows and soft covers, as well as hiding some of Phil’s shiny trinkets in amongst the softness. It was like his nest back in his lonely cave, and he insisted that Phil sleep in the nest with him. And finally, Dan was used to eating raw fish, or whatever other raw meats that he could find. It took Phil a while to condition him into eating cooked meat, even if it was only just barely cooked. Despite all this, Phil still couldn’t think of anything else apart from his Dan. His siren. It was odd, really, that he could be…in love with such a creature, yet here he was, silently smitten with Dan.

The next few months passed by, with no surprises. Phil became extremely well educated on sirens. However, it was too perfect, for too long, and his little bubble of bliss was broken one stormy day. They had been out on the cliff-top at Dan’s insistence for fresh air when all of a sudden he froze, as if sensing something. He motioned for Phil to stop, and walked a little further. He stopped, and for the first time in months, Phil heard his siren singing again. Well, not literally singing. But he was talking. And that alone was enough to make Phils knees buckle, and he fell to the ground. Because another voice had joined the mix. Another silky smooth, buttery sweet voice, adding to the harmony.

“I’ve been looking for you, and this is where I find you? In a human village, with a human. Daniel, you should know better.” At another thought, the second voice wasn’t like Dan’s at all. It was sickly sweet and unkind, where Dan’s was soft and kind. It was mocking, and left a bitter taste in Phils mouth.

“Go away. You know I left for a reason. I will not go back with you!” Dan’s voice cut through the air, followed by laughter, condescending laughter.

“You and I both know that’s not true, Daniel. You’re my mate. We’re meant to be together. It’s how it works.” Phil gasped at that, biting his lip. Dan’s mate. He was here. But why? Phil always assumed that Dan’s mate was dead, and he was merely seeking comfort with Phil. Never did he think that Dan would be with him instead of his mate. That thought was absurd, because after all, why would a siren pick a human as a mate? Phil shook his head, looking back over at Dan, where he stood, a whole head shorter than his mate. Phil got to his feet, dusting himself off and rubbing his eyes. It was hard to make out the conversation over the whirling of the wind, but Dan stood tall, and Phil smiled at that. Dan had courage, and Phil felt something in his stomach, a gut feeling to do something.

“Dan!” he yelled, starling both sirens out of their stances.

“No! Phil, stay where you are, it isn’t safe!” Dan yelled back, and for once, the command given didn’t seem to hold any meaning. His mind stayed remarkably clear, while his body remained frozen. He frowned, shaking his head to clear it and ran to Dan, grabbing his face and kissing him squarely on the lips. At that point, the heavens seemed to open and Phil had to pull away to laugh at the irony. A water creature, and a water witch, kissing in the rain.

“I thought I told you to stay?” Dan asked, smiling just as wide, leaning back in when all of a sudden Phil was shoved away, and oh shit a very angry siren was marching towards him. Dan’s mate was tall, and his wings were fully spread, and the teal feathers on his arms and legs were at full attention. Phil had never seen a siren like this, his eyes flashing a deep red, readying to attack and oh god this was it, and Phil hadn’t even told his mum that he loved her. He hadn’t even told Dan that he was loved. But that final blow that he was waiting for never came. Instead, there came a squawking, and Phil opened his eyes.

Dan was fighting. He was attacking his mate, using claws, teeth, feathers, everything. And his mate was fighting back, but clearly caught off guard by Dan’s sudden attack. And while physically his mate may have been stronger, Dan fought with a passion that Phil had never seen before. Almost like he wanted to protect Phil. They ended up in the air, a skirmish of feathers and growls. Phil heard something snap, followed by a screech and he prayed that it wasn’t Dan. But Dan was flying back to Phil, bruised and bloodied, scooping him up into the air and kissing him again, while Phil clung on for dear life.

“I told you to stay put!” Dan scolded lightly, swooping lower with Phil and making him scream. He laughed and held onto Dan tight, his legs wrapped around his waist and arms clinging around Dan’s shoulders.

“Water witches are immune to water creatures spells, goof,” Phil smiled, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to tell you but you could’ve been talking this whole time.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

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

Halfway between Tunisia and Sicily, there is a little island called Pantelleria, part of the Italian province of Trapani. Along the coast, away from the small towns that dot the island, there is a house only accessible by a dirt driveway, so inconspicuous that you would never notice it at a first glance. Down this driveway is a modest villa that has housed many great witch families over the years. Now, it belongs to an older witch, in his fifties. Sometimes people see him on his beach while sailing by, and more often than not, they are invited to have some wine and a light snack. If you get close enough, you hear his accent, British. If you have the chance to ask him why he is here, he will simply say “I followed my heart and it led me here”. People believe that he lost his wife, others simply say he is an artist. But often, you will see him glance up to the sunny sky, and if you are lucky, you will see a shape pass over the sun. A great winged creature, soaring high. No one knows what this creature is. All people know is that sometimes this strange man is seen sitting on the cliffs next to another man, who is clad in a tunic. Many locals say he is an angel, for they claim that he has giant gold wings that transform into a tattoo impression on his back. But you can tell this man these rumors, and he will simply shrug, and walk back up to his house. For how are the people to know whether a siren chose a human as a mate, all those years ago? Sometimes fate makes pairs in the sky that are simply meant to be. Sometimes a siren’s order simply cannot hold back the tide of love. And sometimes, just sometimes, it all turns out to be just right.

#ppb2018 #phanfiction #dan and phil #siren!dan au #witch!phil au #my fic #7k #phan #daniel howell #phil lester

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