#i believe this is a sign to hop back onto that one wip i have stashed in my drafts for him (it's an x reader...+ it's SPICY x semi dark af) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lordeasriel · 2 years

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Ah well you know me, 3. attwn hdm au for the WIP ask meme please 😅🏝

haha! i'm glad ur interested! this one has been a long and tiresome work that i haven't progressed much with, but you can have a chunky snippet! thanks for the ask!

“Crazy, I tell you!” A well-dressed man was talking to an elderly man by the dock, holding their hats against the wind coming from the sea. “No respect for traffic laws whatsoever! Drove me off the road, he did!”

The scent made Vera dizzy, but she tightened her grip on her suitcase, and walked towards the men, since a third man was waiting by the boat, holding a sign that said Soldier Island. Her marmoset daemon held to her back, unobtrusive; Vera’s short heels - not high quality, since her payment wasn’t enough to afford all that - struggling against the stone floor.

“Well, I assume you’re off to the island as well, Miss--” The elderly man greeted Vera, who forced a smile.

“Claythorne. Yes, I suppose so. I’m Mrs. Owen’s secretary.”

There was a moment of awkward silence between the three of them. At the mention of their hostess’ name, the two men exchanged quick glances. They didn’t bother questioning her, however; common sense dictated that staff had good gossip that never reached other people in direct ways.

Once her suitcase was handed to the sailor with the sign, who introduced himself as Fred Narracott, the wind blew as a wave crashed against the shore, and sent Vera’s hat away. She made a shy attempt to pick it up, and so did her daemon, but neither of them reached it in time.

She tried to see where it went, and it hadn’t been far. Her turn on her heels matched the quick catch of the man from the train, with the black panther; his daemon did a steady, elegant hop and fetched the hat from the air as easily as if it had been a small bird. Vera’s lips tightened, when the man approached her and handed her the hat, not saying a word. She mimicked him, nodding as a gesture of gratitude, but his demeanour, albeit quiet, was rather malicious. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she felt the weight of his gaze nonetheless.

The elderly man, General MacArthur as he had introduced himself nodded cheerfully at their arrival. He seemed to live close to the coast, so he had arrived early whereas their train had been delayed a good half hour.

“Scotland Yard is being thorough, with all these protests by the faithful.” Justice Wargrave said, his butterfly daemon, beautiful and shimmery even in the sunny day, resting on his shoulder. He had been in the cabin with Vera for the rest of her journey after she moved places. Both the doctor and the general seemed to recognise him, and if Vera had been paying attention, she would have noticed that the man called Davis seemed to know him too, although the judge didn't show any signs of recognising anyone but the general. She had only recognised Davis as the man who had easily walked past security back at their train station.

Old men always know other old men, her daemon thought, and that made her restless. The sea scent was enough of a discomfort, her mind drowned in memories, most of which she would have prefered not to recall at all.

“Too much fuss, if you ask me.” Davis said, his black poodle lying lazily at his feet. He had an unusual accent, Vera thought, like South African perhaps, but as Orpheus bitterly reminded her, she didn’t know anyone from South Africa to actually know that. “I bet there is nothing to worry about.”

None of them knew this, but he didn’t actually believe that. However, they all looked at him with discomfort; anyone who could read knew there was plenty to worry about, inside and outside of Brytain. One had to simply look around, frankly, Vera thought. Even she, in her world of daydream and mindlessness, knew that.

As Narracott prepared the boat for departure, carefully loading the new baggage onto it, the men got caught up discussing the state of things. Vera was tired of that subject, everywhere and nowhere at once, and she noticed no one seemed to have asked the man with the panther for his name. True, they were all caught up in Wargrave’s acknowledgment of the general and vice-versa, but a man like that was hard to ignore. It wasn’t deliberate, of course, but deep down there was a hint of avoidance or so Vera felt. It was natural to her, he was the kind of man who would have made her change places on the sidewalk to avoid him.

He didn’t seem troubled, dressed in expensive but unusual clothes, tinted vibrantly in dark blue opposing the earthy colours of the general, the judge and the foreigner, and the lighter clothes of the doctor. Up close, she realised he was too sunburnt, which was odd.

Where have you been?, she wondered. Someplace interesting, I expect.

A man like that didn’t belong to the same world as Wargrave and the others belonged, Vera was worldly enough to recognise that on sight.

“Full of thoughts, are you, Miss Claythorne?” He said, and that startled her, because his face had been looking towards the men chatting, but his eyes - behind his sunglasses - had turned to her. His daemon had warned him, through thought no doubt or a mere brush on his leg, that she had been staring.

“I was thinking you didn't introduce yourself, mister--” Her secretarial efficiency was showing, despite the fact she had little experience in that role.

He turned his face at her, half a grin on his lips, perhaps pondering if she was worth the time and trouble. Or if she had a secret agenda lurking behind big doe eyes and an unappetizing attitude. She could have been a spy, he thought. She wasn't, but she could have been. England is so full of spies nowadays.

“Lombard. Philip Lombard.”

The others acknowledged his introduction, but apart from Davis, they didn't seem to mind Lombard's Irish accent very much. The other daemons, talking between each other or resting lazily close to their humans, seemed wary of his panther, though. Orpheus seemed twice as wary, but he didn't show, hiding on her neck, behind her hair so neatly kept in a dark net.

She broke eye contact as soon as Narracott called out to them. The sea seemed agitated, despite the fact the sun was blazing the Earth. It was a hot summer, regardless, but the day seemed to be getting colder, or windy, at the very least.

“I already took some of the guests there, the sea was quieter then.” Narracott said, messing the engine while the men made their way inside. “A storm is coming, we best get going.”

Everyone looked at him with skepticism, the sun brightly turning everything vibrant and golden. His seagull daemon made a noise to heed the guests into the boat, probably used to people doubting her human's skill. Armstrong went first, followed by Lombard and Davis, who helped Wargrave with his cane.

Vera hesitated, if only for a moment. Not because of the sea, slowly beginning to rage and move about, but because she had searched for the island in the horizon and saw nothing but the vast, endless sea. It was soothing and painful at the same time.

“Chop-chop, Miss Claythorne.” Lombard taunted her, and offered his hand to help her in.

Vera frowned, displeased, and seeing her hesitation before Lombard’s offer of help, the General offered her his hand instead, which she took with relief. His hawk daemon perched close to the panther and whispered something Vera couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, Lombard hummed a laughter, although in reality he had been chastised for his straightforwardness.

She sat at the bow, trying to see the island, but failing.

“You can’t see it from here.” Narracott said, and when she turned, she saw Lombard had sat opposite of her, but he wasn’t watching her this time. He was observing the same thing she was. “But it’s not that far off, I promise.”

“Isn’t this boat too small?” Armstrong voiced everyone’s concern, almost politely.

Narracott laughed before starting the engine.

“Safe as houses, mister.” The waves crashed against the boat, splashing cold droplets on their faces. “Safe as houses.”

#asks #ask game #i dont think i ever will manage to finish this but i sure hope so #thank u again for the chance to share a bit of it

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coutelier · 10 months

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Irongate - Crossroads

~1500 Word excerpt of WIP~

The Dibbles - Chance, Daramy, a couple of uniformed officers standing by a squad car - waited by the Stag Corp sign for the Silver Bow guards to hand over Kaya and Jennifer. Sayuri was with them too, legs hanging out the side of the van as she sat grinding her stress balls. “Well, I called them,” she called as she saw Kaya approach, “don’t know if we’re in less or more trouble now.”

“You did great,” Kaya assured her. Despite her worries Sayuri was pleased to see them.

Jennifer was apprehensive, holding tightly onto Kaya’s arm, urgently whispering, “you called the police?!”

“You’re not exactly cut out for larceny. I figured we’d need a ticket out of there.”

“It’s just, n-not everything in the van is exactly legal to have.”

“Well maybe you are a dark horse. You mean like your gadgets and stuff?”

“Charged particle accelerators, plasma infusers, a fusion reactor-“

“Look, it doesn’t matter; they’re not going to know what any of that stuff is. Just be cool and let me do the talking,” Kaya broke away, smiling and with her arms out wide, throwing herself at a stout detective wearing a black fedora. “Francis, you old snugglebug! It is so good to see you. You would not believe how mean they were in there.”

Amused and confused, Francis wasn’t whether to return the hug. He was saved by Chance. “Stow it, Cade. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you’re all coming with us.”

“So no hug?”

Sayuri hopped from the van, rushing the detectives with questions. “Are we under arrest? You’re not going to call my mom and and dad are you? I’ve never been in trouble with the law before - they’ll freak out! Have a heart attack. And then you’d have to arrest yourself for murder.”

Chance wearily sighed, “you’re not under arrest yet, Miss Oshiro. We just need to ask you some questions.” He stepped away from her, waving to the officers, “you guys can go home. We’ll take their van.”

He peered inside the door Sayuri had previously been sat in, blinking at all the things blinking back at him; banks of monitors on which were drawn squiggly lines, jumbles of cylinders and cables and tubes. There was a toolbox embedded in the floor from which he pulled out some device; metal with a handle and a small screen displaying numbers. “What the hell is all this?”

Jennifer poked her head in. “Oh, um, p-please be-“ Chance dropped the device as two sharp antennae popped out, just avoiding being cut. “Be careful with that.”

“They’re movie props,” Kaya said as Chance backed out of the van. “Yeah, Jennifer collects them. You ever see ‘Night of the Ravenous Virgin Vampires?’ It has this great scene where Tom Hiddleston climbs out of a pool of blood and the virgin vampires can’t resist the urge to start licking him.”

Daramy tried hard to picture it, but, “I do not recall seeing that one.”

Chance glowered at them both. “There’s no such scene. She’s just talking nonsense to confuse you; it’s what she does. Now everyone get in the van then you’re going to start explaining everything.”

“Everything?” Kaya quizzically arched her brow, “okay. Do you want to start with the fusion of ska and punk rock in the nineteen seventies?”

“In!”

With the women seated in the back, Chance and Daramy went up front, the former befuddled by what appeared to the dashboard of a space shuttle. At least there was a steering wheel and pedals. He was about to ask for keys but realized there was no ignition. “How the hell do you drive this thing?”

Jennifer took a breath. “Hull - start the engine and switch to manual control.”

A green circle on the dash spun around, chirping “acknowledged” as the whole machine began to hum.

“Okay,” Chance nodded. As they started to roll he briefly wondered if this thing was cleared to be on the road, but found solace in that not being his department. “Well you might as well start talking now, Cade. Why was your car wrecked?”

“Ah, it just,” she shrugged, “it seemed like a really good idea at the time.”

“You crashed your own car? Why?”

“It all happened so fast,” Kaya sighed, deciding to just come clean. “There was this guy with his eyes gouged out, then there was this creature.”

“Creature?”

“I saw it too!” Sayuri backed up her bandmate, “it killed Neil and Madame Lumina.”

“Slow down; what kind of creature.”

“It was invisible at first. Then it was like covered in bark.”

“Like a Spriggan?” Daramy suggested.

“Exactly!”

“And the whispering. Tell them about the whispering.”

“But what has this got to do with Stag Corp?”

“And the creepy children.”

“I’m gonna get to that. Let me start with the storm.”

Everyone was talking all at once. For Jennifer it was like a discordant ringing inside her skull. She couldn’t follow any of it. Couldn’t even think. She leaned forward, hands behind her head, arms covering her ears. She had to find something to focus on. There was a amber light flashing in front of her, although it took her a second to remember what it meant. While the other’s carried on she snatched a headset from under her seat. “Doctor Sarkis,” she gasped, relieved to be only hearing one voice.

“The Mother Machine has finished some of its simulations,” Jana informed her. “The results are worrying.”

“How so?”

“The first thing we always want to know is how an Engineered Life Form will interact with the environment. This one is extremely adept at self-repair. The problem is its trying to repair everything else it comes in contact with. It acts like an extremely aggressive virus or parasite, devouring other cells, learning about them, then it takes over.”

“So what would happen if this got inside an animal, or a person?”

“They would be consumed and remade from the inside out. I may need to create a live sample to learn more.”

“I think that’s a bad idea, Doctor.”

Jana hummed before deciding, “agreed. I will proceed with my original plan to infiltrate Stag’s vault. You just - just try your best to stay out of trouble.”

Jennifer didn’t have the heart to tell her it was far too late for that. Up front thankfully the chatter had died down a bit.”

“So,” Kaya said, leaning on the detective’s seat, “what have you guys been up to?”

“Looking for a girl,” Chance told her. “Don’t be facetious.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking about it. She’s wanted for murder. And when I say girl, I mean girl. A kid; ten to twelve years old.”

“We believe,” Daramy explained, “she somehow killed two Silver Bow soldiers. Just destroyed them. We chased her to the roof of the mall but she stepped off the edge and was gone,” he thought, “she may have some superhuman abilities, but this was a child with a blue skirt and sweater. Nothing like a spriggan, and she seemed to be controlling herself.”

“It’s connected,” Jennifer assured them, “we have to find that girl.”

“Easier said than done,” Chance assured her, “not like she has fingerprints on file. We’ve been checking local schools but so far any kid who looks like her is accounted for.”

“Maybe she’s home-schooled,” Sayuri suggested. “Mom and dad thought about homeschooling us. They were afraid we’d get bullied being the only Japanese kids in town. Anyway, have you checked that register?”

“Well of course we checked it,” Chance shook his head, rolling his eyes until they met Daramy’s. “We did check it, right?”

“Hull?” Jenn asked.

The green light on the dashboard span to life. “Affirmative,” it said. “One record found matching description from Sergeant Delainy’s report; Tenley Tych. Age eleven.” A photo along with an address and plotted route appeared on a small screen.

“Hang on, wait, go back,” Chance stammered, “how are you reading police reports? I just filed it an hour ago.”

“What’s it matter?” Kaya butted in. “Is that the girl or not?”

He looked. The girl in the photo was a tiny bit younger than the one he saw, but, “yeah. Yeah it’s her.”

“And if Jenn can access your reports, you can bet Alvin Stag can too. She’s right; we’ve got to get to this kid before anyone else does. She may be our best of figuring all this out and saving lives.”

Chance drummed his fingers on the wheel. Before him there were two roads; one leading back into town and the police station, the other the route Hull had plotted for them. Two roads, but if there were infinite realities, only one he would take in that moment. “Shit,” he spat, conceding to the inevitable and steering away from Irongate.

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #science fiction #sci-fi & fantasy #wip #my wip #irongate

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

In Line at the Prize Counter

So this fic was originally intended to be part of Dick and Damian week, but life intervened and I didn’t end up finishing it anywhere near on time. That said, I found it too much fun to write and didn’t want it to live forever in WIP form. So, I hope you all enjoy this adventure featuring one Very Done Damian as he’s forced to rescue Dick from a Bomp n’ Stomp.

Characters: Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne

Words: 4,965

Summary: When Dick Grayson is kidnapped, Robin is the only one who really believes he's being held at the Bomp n' Stomp entertainment center. So he rolls up his sleeves, and heads into the dreaded building to rescue his brother from the likes of ball pits, twisted slides, and yes even go karts.

AO3 Link

Of all the places in the world Damian Wayne expected to walk into, a Bomp n’ Stomp was not one of them. In fact, he had argued viciously against ever entering the indoor playscape when his brother had suggested they spend a Saturday there.

To make matters worse, in an attempt to convince Damian of it’s legitimacy, Richard had called it an arcade.

An arcade .

The nerve of the man to sully that term by applying it to this ball pit filled, gum ridden, dirty carpeted, sticky establishment. A true arcade, like Shelly’s JoyCon, home of Cheese Viking, would never allow it’s door handles to leave a strangely greasy film on Damian’s gloves as he moved his search from a back room back out into the main area.

The inside smelled of old pizza, spilled soda, and that strange almost chalky scent of fog machines. It was, in a word, disgusting. Damian felt a pull at the bottom of his boot every few steps, like the carpet was coated in something sticky. He wrinkled his nose.

No, this was nothing like his favorite arcade.

Granted. It was also closed for renovations, with the promise of things like all new games, flooring, and yes even door handles. Still, Damian thought nothing could quite erase the smell of greasy pizza. That was a scent that stuck.

He shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about greasy pizza and continue working on why he was truly here. Some odious criminal had thought it a good idea to kidnap Richard on his way into Gotham.

It would not be stood for. Not someone snatching his brother. Nor holding him up in a place as terrible as this. To top things off, whoever had taken Richard had deprived both he and Damian of a perfectly excellent evening that should have been spent at the Observatory.

Damian sniffed and picked his way past skee ball games, an overly large wheel with inane words like “Double Prize Winner!!” in bold peeling letters on it, and the playscapes namesake, a Bomp n’ Stomp game.

At the Bomp n’ Stomp, he stopped to peer down at the curious game. It was obviously broken. The machine was little more than a garishly painted box with various holes covering the top. Out of one peeked a chipped plastic facsimile of a mole. Hanging off the machine were two objects strung on cords that looked ready to snap at any moment. The first was a toy hammer, it’s fabric ripped and leaking stuffing, the other a boot attached to a stick.

“Tt.” Damian discounted it and looked back up.

Whoever thought a game designed around attacking moles was a good idea surly must be a criminal.

He’d neared the end of the ‘arcade’ portion of the building and was entering a larger more open space. The carpet changed from soiled red to blue spotted tile. At the change, the ceiling rose at least a second story above him, towering high enough to fit a series of large structures.

To one side of this new area rested a climbing wall. It, out of everything Damian had seen so far, actually looked interesting. Even from here he could see portions that might make for a mild challenge in climbing.

Next there was a multistory play set filled with slides, jungle gyms, large netted areas he supposed children were expected to crawl through, and so many tunnels it would put most professional guinea pig enclosures to shame. A sign outside the entrance indicated that somewhere towards the center of the structure rested a huge ball pit.

Damian really, truly, hoped Richard had not been placed within that. If the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp was sticky and dirty, the ball pit must be truly foul. He could not even imagine what had happened within it or what--he grimaced-- fluids could have coated the orbs.

He turned to the last attraction, a small go kart area. Perhaps the climbing wall was not the only redeeming quality to the establishment. Provided of course that the carts actually moved quickly.

So far, he had seen no hint of Richard. His brother had not been hidden behind a garishly colored game, and he did not seem to be dangling from the climbing wall. After a brief examination (and admiration of the engines on the small cars) Damian determined that his brother was either being held in one of the staff areas indicated by the back wall or-- He glanced at the huge play place.

After a moment’s hesitation, Damian squared his shoulders. As detestable as it would be to crawl around in there, he would do it if it meant rescuing Richard from being trapped inside. He could not imagine being held within the structure longer than a few minutes. It would be torture indeed.

The truly strange thing about his investigation so far had been that no one had attempted to stop him. There were no guards at the front, nor the back, and the building was empty of signs of life. The power was on, with some games sluggishly lit or playing bites of music, but Damian had not seen anyone besides himself.

He considered this as he made his way to the entrance to the play structure. He knew for a fact that Richard was here, even if Father did not.

Damian pushed the plastic draping away from the domed entrance and stepped inside the structure. He was surrounded by net, his feet no longer on solid ground, but pressed into some kind of foam. Ahead of him was a rope ladder that looked designed to be as unstable as possible. He sighed and began to climb.

Of the three possible locations Richard could have been taken to the Bomp n’ Stomp had been deemed least likely by his Father due to the fact that it was not altogether abandoned. While, over the weekend no one would be inside, the possibility of a worker coming in was high enough Father had assumed any capable kidnapper would discount it.

The other two locations, an empty ice cream parlor, and an abandoned junk yard, had been deemed higher priorities and dangers. But something had told Damian that the Bomp n’ Stomp was the right location, and he had argued that it should be checked out.

So while his family was split between the other two locations, Father had reluctantly allowed Damian to check out his hunch, promising to meet up with him after they'd cleared their own locations.

The ladder exited onto a platform made entirely of the netting Damian had seen from outside the playhouse structure. Tentative, he pressed a hand into the thick black cording, and when it gave less than he’d assumed it would, he climbed atop it.

Balance was a tricky thing on the strange floor, and Damian could not help but think the League would benefit from installing something of the kind in one of their training rooms. It turned a normal floor into something to be treaded on with care or risk getting a toe caught between the net. If he was unlucky he might end up tumbling to the ground or twisting his ankle. Damian couldn’t imagine it filled with children.

He was keeping his ears open for any sounds of either Richard or the kidnappers. From the letter and accompanying picture Father had received there were at least three men holding Richard, but there were sure to be more.

Father had immediately identified the men as being part of a relatively new gang in Gotham. Their motive was both money and an attempt at scaring Bruce Wayne into cooperating with them in the future.

Damian scoffed at their foolishness as he hopped off one platform and onto another. His eyes went wide as, instead of the net he’d grown used to, the floor rolled under his feet.

He bit back a yelp as his feet slipped forward, and he went tumbling, hands pinwheeling out beside him in an attempt to catch his balance. He stumbled back, then forward, then one leg was in the air, followed by the other and Damian was staring up at the faded yellow ceiling of the play place.

For a moment, he lay there blinking up at it. Wondering about the strange flatness, and remembering this thing had another level above him. If someone was above him, would he see imprints of feet? Sections weighed down by a kid stepping over it?

It did not matter. What did, was finding Richard and escaping this cursed place.

Damian felt the floor under him, and realized it was not a single solid piece, but four cylinders that each rolled on their own. Whoever had designed this place was a madman. Putting a trap like this in a place where anyone could fall could only spell injury on a normal day.

He grunted, and carefully pushed himself up, moving off the shifting section and onto firm foam again. Well, not quite firm. It sagged with every step Damian took, but it was far better than the rolling part or the net.

The next hurdle came when Damian reached the tunnels. He had seen them of course, out looking up at all this. Plastic, colored brightly, sometimes one segment a different color altogether than the last, little windows dotting the sides. But he had hoped he’d find Richard before having to crawl through one.

He crouched and stepped inside. After a few moments he realized he was going to have to actually crawl. He wrinkled his nose as he pressed palm to plastic and began moving. At one point his palm stuck and after a moment, he pulled it up to reveal gum pressed into the green of his glove. Richard had better be thankful for what Damian was putting himself through to rescue him.

The space was tight, and as a defensible position it was terrible. If a fight took place within the tubes it would not be good. Even Damian, as small as he was, would have a hard time maneuvering within them. He’d have a better chance of winning a fight in some of the Batcave’s tighter spaces.

They were also impossible to be silent in. Every inch forward created squeaking or creaking or the echoing sound of a knee hitting against plastic with a series of thumps that were anything but rhythmic. Any chance of silently finding his brother was dashed a minute after he entered them.

Once Damian realized that, he no longer bothered trying to move slowly through. Instead he hurried, around turns, down dips, and up tiny plastic hills. He was thankful for the extra padding over his knees and the leather of his gloves. If not for them he was certain his palms would be red and irritated and his knees bruised.

Damian was in such a hurry to get through the tunnels that he missed the slide. One moment his hand was pressed into plastic, the next it fell into nothing. His momentum was such that he’d assumed it was another dip, a temporary fall.

But no.

His next hand hit nothing, with the other was still in air, and then Damian found himself staring down the tube of a slide, and hurtling down it face first. It twisted, and turned, and at one point his chin caught on a portion of the plastic that was raised. Damian winced, feeling the plastic scratch his skin, sure he’d be wiping blood away if he ever exited this terrible contraption.

At last, he burst out. He got one good look at a space enclosed by netting and more slide exits before he saw what was below him. To his growing horror, the ball pit waited. Staring at the pit in bullet time Damian decided this whole place was ridiculous. A death trap made for children . Even Nygma could not come up with something so fiendish.

Nothing Damian could do would stop his crash. Balls of yellow, red, blue, and green exploded around him, bursting up and into the air even as his trajectory took him down, deep into the pit. He was drowning, and yet not.

After a moment he realized he’d stopped moving. The balls around him had coalesced into a kind of solid form that still allowed him to move. It took some work, but eventually Damian righted himself and managed to semi-swim upward, kicking off against the ground before shooting back up. And at last, his head popped out into clear air.

“Robin!?” The surprised voice came from his left.

Damian shifted, careful not to sink again, “Richard!” he cried, then corrected himself, he was in uniform and Richard was a civilian. Even here, the kidnappers might be watching.

“Mr. Grayson, I am here to rescue you.”

Richard actually snorted, an aborted version of what would have been a startled laugh. He was half buried in the ball pit himself. His torso and head above the sea of color. Rope was tied around what Damian could see of his chest, presumably holding his arms back, but otherwise he looked fine.

It was a miracle Damian hadn’t plowed right into his brother during his wild exit from the slide. He’d landed a foot or so away from him, close to the middle of the pit. The problem was, figuring out how to get both himself and Richard out.

Damian glanced around the enclosed space holding the pit. He counted four slides at various sides of the netting, and two rope ladders leading up. One to another tunnel, and the other to what looked like a real ledge.

“So, Mr. Robin , what’s the plan?” Richard asked, his tone far too delighted with their situation.

A scowl crossed Damian’s face, “Do not patronize me. It is your fault we are in this mess at all. Do you know how unsanitary this all is? From the pit to those cursed tunnels. Even the door was sticky.”

Richard gave him a patient smile, “But it’s not all bad right?”

“Tt. It has been horrendous. I do not know how you have survived.” Damian said, and began wading over to his brother’s side.

It was difficult to push through the pit, but he found that thankfully, the closer he got to an edge, the higher the ground under him was. It went from almost nonexistent, to high enough he could stand on his toes beside Richard. It was not ideal, but at least he was no longer at risk of being swallowed whole.

“There has to be at least one redeeming quality about this place.” Richard continued, “Even Robin must have liked something the old Bomp n’ Stomp has to offer. Maybe one of the games?”

“Nothing.” Damian answered, defiant even as he thought of the go karts and climbing wall, “Especially not the games. This place is childish, Richard. Childish and demeaning, and even you would not stoop so low as to drag me here.” he ranted, forgetting that he was Robin with a civilian and not Damian and his brother.

His brother’s smile was full of delight now, “You protest too much. I bet at least one thing caught your eye.”

“I said nothing.” Damian declared again, and sending balls flying, “Now come on, we do not have time to waste speaking of such moronic things.”

Richard cleared his throat, “Uh, Robin, aren’t you forgetting about something?”

Damian turned to see his brother shrug, plastic balls rolling away from him, and Damian caught sight of the ropes still binding his brother.

Fire lit hit his cheeks. He swallowed down the embarrassment and moved again to hastily slice at the ropes holding Richard’s arms to his sides. Even in his rush, he slowed as the blade neared his brother, the night would only be worse if he accidentally hurt him.

The ropes fell away easily, and soon Richard was massaging his wrists and stretching his arms up into the sky, “That feels great, thanks, Baby Bat.”

Damian ignored the nickname, and Richard’s attempt to reach out and ruffle his hair. He ducked and turned towards the ladder by the platform, “Come along, I would like to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

Richard hummed, “Yeah, I have no idea when those guys will be back, so haste is probably a good thing. Unless you already took them out?”

“The building was empty when I entered.”

Damian scrambled out of the pit and up onto the ladder. He climbed up, only to realize Richard had not followed him. When he turned to frown at his brother, he could see the man had stopped at the ladder, his eyes focused on the rungs.

“Richard?” he asked, voice quiet.

“I’m fine, just a bit dizzy. I’ve been sitting there a while, my arms and legs are tingly and just waking up.”

“What else is wrong.” Damian did not ask, but demanded the answer.

His brother shrugged, “I might have sprained my ankle when they tossed me in?”

Damian nodded, assessing the situation.

“Can you climb?”

If it were Damian in Richard’s shoes, he’d power through the ache, but he did not wish to press his brother into doing something he couldn’t. He could support Richard as they moved, and they could utilize a slide to exit this structure, but if he could not climb, getting him out of the pit might prove challenging.

Richard nodded, “I think so.”

He placed his hands on the rungs and started up. It was not an overly high ladder, but even so, Richard made it a few rungs before he paused wincing.

“Here.” Damian said.

He knelt down and reached out for his brother, “I will pull you up.”

Richard gave him a look that could only be described as incredulous. Damian glared at him in return.

“I can handle lifting you a short distance. Push off with your good foot and let us get this over with.”

After another moment of hesitation, Richard reached up and took one of Damian’s hands. His other, he kept pressed to the bars for leverage. Damian pulled as Richard pushed himself up. Below him the ladder wiggled a threat. However, he managed to grab hold of Damian’s other hand with a tight squeeze.

Richard was heavy, but together and with another awkward step onto the ladder, Damian managed to help drag him up. For a moment, they sat together looking at each other.

“Well.” Richard said, “I guess we should keep going?”

Damian nodded, “Indeed. I believe there is a slide exit in that direction.” he waved in the general area he remembered seeing one. At least he hoped it was there. His internal map of the structure felt a little turned around after his dive into the ball pit.

He helped his brother up, and they began moving through the rest of the structure. Damian stuck close to Richard, who insisted he didn’t need to lean on him yet. Still, he kept one eye on his brother, ready to assist if he showed the slightest sign of wavering.

They reached another area where solid panels switched to a rolled floor and Damian threw an arm out to stop their progress.

“Careful, that part can be deceptive.” he said, pointing down at them, “Allow me to walk you over them, so you do not injure your ankle further.”

Richard had an odd look on his face, a smile that seemed as if it hid another emotion, but Damian wasn’t going to worry about his brother’s reaction to his protectiveness. He always seemed to blow things like that out of proportion anyway.

They traversed the trap easily, and had just about reached the slide when a question that had been bugging Damian burst to the surface.

“Why were you in that ball pit? Surely there was an easier place to hold you.”

“Apparently, I talk too much.” Richard chuckled, “In truth, I was seeing if I could irritate them into letting me go.”

Damian couldn’t stop a surprised laugh at that, “It does not seem to have worked.”

Richard shrugged, “It was worth a try, it’s worked in the past.”

At last they reached the slide.

“I will go down first, so I can look for trouble and assist you if you have any problems.”

This time, Damian’s trip down a slide was a controlled one. It was a not altogether unpleasant experience sliding at a quick speed, and turning round and round in a spiral.

He couldn’t help but think back to watching Father, back when the man had lost his memory, playing with children on a large playground. A pang of want, not as strong as then, lodged in his chest. He tried to swallow it back as he popped out. Landing on his feet before he hurried forward to get out of the way.

Damian turned his attention away from lost memories and onto the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp’s interior. His eyes ran from the go karts, paused at the entrance to the arcade portion, and moved over to the climbing wall on the far side of the room. Still empty.

“You may come down, it is clear.” he called up the slide. His voice echoed slightly up the plastic tube, sounding a little hollow and odd.

“Yeah!” Richard cried, his voice bouncing loudly down to Damian.

He could hear his brother swish and bump down the slide as he traversed it, the plastic rumbling as he reached the end. When he came out, he stopped himself with his hands at the exit, and carefully pushed himself to his feet, grinning.

“I don’t care how much you hate these places, we’re coming back.” he declared.

Damian rolled his eyes.

Before he could respond, there was the sound of metal on concrete. He spun on his heel and turned as a large metal door labeled Staff Only rolled up to reveal four very angry looking men carrying guns. By some stroke of luck, they hadn’t noticed Dick or Robin yet.

“We’re leaving now.” Damian said, grabbing Richard’s hand.

He made to run back towards the exit, but Richard yelped, his hand staying behind Damian. He froze, and turned on his brother, eyes looking over him. Richard was wincing and Damian remembered the man’s ankle. It must be worse than he’d let on.

Damian cast his eyes around him for something to get them out of there safely. He stopped when he saw the go karts.

“Can you make it there?” He pointed at them.

Richard’s eyes lit up, “Yes. That’s a big yes.”

Just in case, Damian hooked an arm around Richard’s waist to help support him, and together they hurried at a not quite run for the go karts. Just as Damian was helping Richard over the barrier separating them from the karts he heard an angry yell.

He glanced up to see the men running towards them, a cacophony of voices yelling at them to stop. Damian knew they had moments before the shooting started. He shoved Richard into the nearest kart that had two seats, and ran around to fiddle with the exposed engine. His earlier examination had been brief, but enough to tell him that the karts had safety measures equipped to limit their speed. That would not do.

His fingers were fast and clever, even working on an engine he’d never worked with before. It was moments and he was throwing himself into the open chair. Thankfully, a key was in the ignition and Damian had the kart roaring to life after a moment.

Just as he revved the engine, the gunfire started.

Damian threw the kart to the side, thankful the area the karts were in was somewhat open, and made a large loop, letting the cart pick up speed as he moved.

“Robin--” Richard’s voice was a question, “Just what’s the plan here?”

They were roaring towards the plastic partitions they’d only just hopped over. Damian was confident they were flimsy enough to ram, especially at the speed they were going.

He grinned, “We are going through them. I would suggest ducking. I do not wish for you to get shot while we escape.”

“Damian,” his brother hissed, “There’s an opening to the outside behind us.”

“To an enclosed area. The walls are high there, we would be trapped. This is our best option.” He'd seen the area when entering the Bomp n' Stomp earlier.

Even as he spoke they were nearing the path of no return. The kart raced towards the partition, the men racing towards them. Damian pressed his foot harder against the pedal and then the pointed front of the go kart was slamming through the short plastic partition, breaking apart the multiple pieces that kept it together and sending them flying.

Damian could not help but grin as one piece caught a kidnapper in the side, sending him tumbling to the ground.

He wove the kart through the remaining three as they yelled and one of them got off a shot. The bullet pinged off the side of the kart.

“Whohoo!” Richard cheered as they blew past the last man and sped through the building.

Damian pulled them back into the part of the building filled with various small games. The kart shook as it shifted from tile to carpet. The sound it made changing from a flat rumble to something more muffled. At the bump, Richard winced again. Damian frowned.

“We will be exiting soon.” Damian said by way of comfort.

He could hear the rumble of feet behind him, and even the sound of another go kart having been started. Damian snorted, unless they’d modified it, he and Richard still had the advantage. To make sure, he glanced behind him.

There was only one kart chasing them down, another two seater, with both seats filled. Unfortunately for them, it did seem to be running quickly. Damian swore as it began closing the distance between them. He threw himself back against the seat as the man who wasn’t driving leveled a gun at them and fired.

The bullet sped past them by a wide margin, but the danger was still there.

“Hold on.” he told his brother and pulled the cart around one of the games, twisting through the maze of Jurassic Park simulators and skee ball machines hoping they’d shake their pursuers.

“He’s still there.” Richard said, now taking Damian’s place in watching their backs.

“Lean back, you’ll get shot.” Damian hissed, “We need only make it out the front doors.”

Richard followed his lead, just in time as more shots rang out around them. Damian caught sight of Richard's worried expression out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t have time to turn to him. He kept the cart moving forward, dodging games left and right.

At last, the doors were in front of them. Damian prayed the cart would trigger the door’s automatic response. As they sped closer and closer he started to wonder what it would be like to just plow through those too.

Then they swung open and Damian and Dick burst through.

Behind them, Damian could still hear the squeal of the pursuing kart. That didn’t matter however, as Damian’s eyes lit on the Batmobile. Father was already out, Red Robin beside him. It took them a moment to understand the extent of the chaos Damian had dragged outside, but soon they were moving too.

Damian pulled the kart around them, and heard the distinctive pop pop of something exploding. The men in the kart behind them yelled with surprise, and the sound of the kart cut off with a sudden deafness.

Feeling safe, Damian pulled his foot off the gas, slowing his own kart and turning it to drive closer to Father’s car so Richard would not have to limp far.

Turned now, they could see the other kart coated in foam. One of Drake’s newest experiments, and a successful one at that.

As they stopped, Damian grinned over at Richard, “See. As I said, we only needed to make it outside.”

Richard was grinning, and Damian found himself relieved to realize his brother was fine. Their mad dash did not seem to have resulted in his injury.

They sat in the kart as Batman and Red Robin took care of the two men in the other kart, and then moved inside to deal with the other two goons.

Damian leaned his arms on the steering wheel and gave Richard a small smile.

Richard, leaned forward to mirror him, elbow bumping against Damian’s, “Admit it, you had fun coming through there to rescue me.”

Damian considered the thought for a moment, “Never.”

“Ha! I knew you did.” Richard sat up, delighted.

“I said nothing of the like.”

“But your face did.”

“The go karts were acceptable.” Damian admitted.

Richard reached out and tugged Damian into a half hug, “Good, we’ll do go karts when we come back, and try the rock climbing wall. And I’ll win you enough tickets to get one of those giant stuffed bears.”

“Father could buy me one for less than it would take you to get those tickets.” Damian pointed out.

“That,” Richard said sternly, “is not the point. It will be a thank you, for the rescue and one of the most exciting nights I’ve had in a long time.”

Damian snorted, but leaned a little closer into his brother’s side. Watching as Batman and Red Robin led the remaining two men out of the building.

“I can accept that. I will allow you to bring me back to the Bomp ‘n Stomp when they reopen. Even if the doors are still sticky.”

#Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Batfamily #fanfiction #humor #fluff #this one's just fluffy you guys #kidnapping #rescue #Damian is out of his depth but that's not stopping him #Dick is having a Great Time #Precious Posts

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shortsnstories · 5 years

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Prompt: Friends who know each other really well. (WIP)

Although I’ve known Denny for only about three years, it’s as if I’ve known him since before I was even out of the womb. Denny, my best friend, is the one person in the world who knows me the best. Now, you may say that, Flora, that can’t be true, what about your parents? Well you see, mother and father dearest are not around. Too busy with business trips and things of the like that are much more important than their precious daughter. I appreciate them, and I love them, but they don’t know me. Denny has been the one for me the last three years. He has been the one who has been there through all the anxiety attacks, the depressive episodes, all of it. And he is the one who knows me the best. Except for one thing. Something that’s kind of big. Really big, actually. He doesn’t know that he’s the person I am madly in love with.

Now, that may sound confusing, which it is. Flora, how could the boy you’ve been madly in love with for three years, not know? He’s the thing, he things I am just utterly infatuated with a guy at our school, Geoff Clifford (Yes, I know it’s a dumb name, I don’t know how Denny thinks I’m actually in love with him either). He thinks that I’ve been madly in love with Geoff Clifford since the summer of 5th grade. But he’s wrong, so, so, so wrong. Denny, the one who knows me best would never know how madly I’m in love with him. He could never know, cause he’s actually in love with Rosie Bates. The prettiest girl at school, the one who makes the boys drool and the girls scowl. And why wouldn’t he be, she’s perfect. In every way she is the perfect girl. I could never live up to that, especially when Denny is a God on Earth. I could never be enough for him, so here I am sitting alone in my room, writing into a pink diary I haven’t opened in years. All because of Denny, my best friend of three years, who doesn’t know that I’m madly in love with.

“Flora!” Tingles are sent up my spine as I hear a deep voice call out my name. I turn my head, quickly shielding my eyes from the blazing August sun. My eyes focus as I look in the direction of the call, my eyes finally landing on Denny. My eyes fall up and down him as his shirt moves slightly with his chest as he makes his way towards the bench I’m sitting on. I quickly sit a little straighter, my hands instinctively moving to sweep my hair behind my ear. My eyes focused on him as he finally reaches the table, sitting on it as he pants slightly.

“Denny, what’s up?” I say, making my tone sound casual, even though there is a colony of Monarch Butterflies in my stomach during October. My heart beat quickens, but I try to ignore the pang in my chest as I watch his eyes travel to Rosie.

“Homecoming is coming up, isn’t it?” Words ring through my head but I don’t really register them at first, still recovering from the sudden appearance of my best friend.

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“I was thinking about asking Rosie, do you think I have a chance?” My blood runs cold. He’s gonna do it, finally. It only took him eight months to finally pick up the courage to do it. But it still hurts. Just a bit. Right down in my stomach.

“I don’t know, Denners, maybe. I don’t talk to her much.”

“That’s a shame, she’s so cool! Not as cool as you, though.” He turns to me and smiles as he says it. Not noticing how my cheeks flare up so much you’d think I had escaped from the tomato farm. I quickly avert my eyes from his contagious smile. Fingers fidgeting with the hem of my skirt.

“Thanks, but you should do it. What do you have to lose?”

“What do you mean what do I have to lose? My dignity maybe. Hah, you really think that she’d go for someone like me?” He said, a doubt creeping into his voice as his eyes trailed back over to her. She was sitting with a group friends. Brown hair falling in soft ringlets to the middle of her back, perfectly curled eyelashes accompanying perfect hazel eyes. A yellow sundress hung on her lithe frame. I watched as Denny’s eyes fell over her, soaking in ever ounce of her, just like I was doing with him now. I know that look in his eye, he gets that look when he’s playing football. The look of pure bliss, true happiness. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know him so well, than I wouldn’t be able to read him this well. And if I couldn’t do that, maybe I could fool myself into thinking I have a shot with him, even if it was for just a bit of time. If I could fool myself into that, maybe I’d be just a bit more okay.

“You should ask her, you never know.” The words fall from my mouth as another piece of my heart is chipped away. I ignore it, pressing a smile onto my features and making my eyes look bright. Denny looks at me, a look as if he almost knew what I was thinking, but then it was gone. Even so, he couldn’t know, I haven’t even told anyone. No one knows except me. And that stupid diary I confided in last night, if you put it in writing, it can come back and haunt you. But, whatever. Denny doesn’t know, at all.

“Yeah! I think I will, thanks, Flora. You’re the best.” He smiles at me, his hand coming down and ruffling my hair. He hops off the bench, striding away towards Rosie. He’s doing it now? Now? Right in front of me? I might barf. But I can’t seem to look away. If I had any sense in me I’d start running away right now. So I could hear about it later. But if I leave now, I’ll have to live in suspense for hours, which may be worse. So I sit there, watching dumbly as he walks towards her. I can see it in how he walks, the fear. He’s bouncing off of his left foot more than usual, right hand twitching in his jacket pocket. All classic signs that he’s stressed and freaking out on the inside. Things I know so dearly because I’ve been the one there for him for three years. His best friend, and nothing more.

“Rosie! Can I talk to you for a second?” I can barely hear him, but I can. I watch as she looks at her friends, a knowing look being passed around the group. She gets up, long, slender legs pushing off the green grass.

“Yeah, course.”

“Great. Over here.” He leads her over to a tree about 20 feet away from Rosie’s friends and where I’m sitting. I can still hear him, he’s making small talk. Another classic, he’s so nervous, I can tell. But why wouldn’t he be? He’s finally asking out the girl he’s been infatuated with. I feel my heart fall, and tug, the physical pain I’m so familiar. It just hurts when he mentions her, talks to her, looks at her. Cause, why isn’t that me? Why doesn’t he love me the way I love him? Why? But there isn’t much worth in thinking about it. Cause while I’m sitting here wallowing, he’s asking her.

“So… I want to ask you something. I’ve been wanting to ask you for some time now.” Denny says, his voice wavering a bit.

“Yeah?” She replies, her eyes searching his.

“I… I was wondering if you, if you wanted to go to homecoming with me…?” There, there are the words that’ll end me. I hear the questioning and hesitation in his voice, almost as if he’s amazed he even got the words out. I watch as surprise falls onto Rosie’s face. I watch as it switches from surprise to happiness. Her eyes crinkling as a smile fixes itself to her features.

“Yeah! I’d love to!” She says, a lightness in her voice that makes my head spin.

“Oh, that’s great! I’ll talk to you later.” Enthusiasm dripping from his voice like thick sap from a tree. And he turns, he turns towards me. Shooting a jolly thumbs up. The look of pure happiness on his face is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I wish I had a camera to capture that moment and never forget it. But it’s bittersweet, because I know it’s not me who’s making him smile like that.

“Flora! Flora! She said yes, can you believe it?!” Denny comes running up to me. Turning back to look at Rosie who shoots him a sweet smile, which he returns. I quickly arrange my face into something that looks like happiness and surprise. I smile at him, and I’ve never seen him this excited or happy. A genuine happiness that fills his entire being.

“I can believe it, you’re amazing, Denny. I told you!” I force my voice to be as cheerful as possible.

“Thanks, Flora. I don’t know what I would do without you.” And I know he means it, but he doesn’t mean it in the way same I do. He doesn’t need me to function, he needs me to help him, to get him through stuff. I need him to function, and I’ve accepted that it’ll never be the same for him. No matter how much I want it to, it’ll never be that way. Cause I know him so well that I can tell, I can tell there is no interest in me in him. No romantic interest at least. And I’ve just got to deal with that, even if it breaks me in the process.

So here I am, back home, sitting at my stupid desk with this stupid diary. Why am I putting it all in writing? There’s a big chance that it could get stolen, or even worse, read. But here I am anyways, confiding in a book. It hurts so much, you know. No-one ever tells you how hard heartbreak is. They never tell you how much it hurts and how much physical and emotional pain you’re put through. I think being heartbroken is the most painful thing in the world. And, yeah, I’m only 17. But it’s the worst thing I’ve ever been through. The hardest thing I’ve had to go through, and he wasn’t even mine. This hurts so much. So, so, so much. I can’t believe I let myself get this head over heels, even from when I knew from the start that he’d never be mine. But what can I do. Nothing, there’s nothing I can do. Ever. So I’ll just sit here and confide in a stupid diary that’ll never know how hard it is.

#short #story #shortstory #writing #draft #wip #workinprogress #unrequited #teen #homecoming #love #teenfiction #fiction

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danfanciesphil · 6 years

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Some Kind Of Folliful (New Chapter)

Edgelord!Dan x ObliviousBisexual!Phil AU [CHAPTER THREE] (based off the 80′s classic Some Kind of Wonderful)

Synopsis: Dan has one friend, and only because he was forced into it. Phil is loud, excitable, and irritatingly happy all of the time. He seems to find Dan’s perpetual attitude funny, and despite Dan’s best efforts to shun him and everyone else, wants to be around him all the time. That is, until Phil starts talking about Amanda Jones. Word Count: WIP (Estimated 12-15 chapters) updates every Tuesday Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smoking, swearing, implied prostitution, broken home, class divide/classism, pining, light homophobia, sex

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Ao3]

True to his word, Phil asks Amanda out that very same day. He begs and pleads with Dan to come with him for ‘moral support’, so Dan is forced to watch the entire shit-show unfold. The only upside is that Dan is able to bum a cigarette off Lee, the annoying Year Ten kid who constantly hangs around him. Lee seems to be under some mistaken impression that Dan is someone to be idolised. Dan doesn’t condone underage smoking, but he’s desperate; watching Phil ask Amanda Jones on a date is going to require some kind of narcotic. Lee offers a full packet to him while they wait on the low wall outside school, watching Phil dither in the parking lot. He’s decided to wait for Amanda by her friend Lilian’s car, because now that she and Hardy are no longer speaking, Amanda will almost definitely be travelling home this way. Dan drags on his cigarette, just about resisting the urge to moan as the nicotine rushes through his veins.

Phil’s plan is stupid, in Dan’s opinion. Lilian is a stuck up bitch, possibly the worst of all the Elite girls; if she’s there to influence Amanda’s decision, then Phil's slim chance of actually persuading Amanda to go out with him will be drastically reduced. Dan's advice was to find Amanda alone somehow, but as she’s literally the most popular girl in the entire school, Dan understands that this might be a bit difficult. Besides, as Phil keeps reminding him, time is of the essence. Dan's blowing a long, satisfying stream of silvery smoke out through his nostrils when Amanda and Lilian swan past him, chattering away, books clutched to their chests. Lilian sends Dan a dirty look as she passes, waving the smoke out of her face in disgust. Dan just about manages to stop himself giving her the finger, and instead watches in pained silence as the two girls cross the parking lot to Lilian’s peach convertible, their skirts swishing about their skinny thighs. They slow to a stop in front of Phil, eyeing him warily, and Dan holds his breath. Dan can’t hear what Phil’s saying, but he’s talking directly to Amanda, ignoring Lilian completely. The corner of his mouth is tilted up in a cute half-smile, and he shrugs his shoulders in a bashful way. Dan wants to be sick, suddenly. He stubs his cigarette out on the wall.

“Hey, uh, was that one no good or something?” Lee pipes up from beside him, sounding anxious. “I’ve got a whole pack here, did you want another?”

“What?” Dan asks, barely listening to him. “No, no. It’s fine.”

“Oh, ok,” Lee says, sounding disappointed by the answer. “So that’s your mate Phil over there, right? What’s he doing talking to Amanda Jones and Lilian Clarke? Are you gonna disown him or what?”

Lee chuckles loudly, forcedly, as though he wants to make clear that it’s a joke, but again Dan barely hears him.

“He’s got a crush on her.” Dan’s not sure why he says this, especially as hearing the words aloud are not helping his nausea.

“Really?” Lee asks, snatching up the information greedily. “Which one?”

Amanda's polite titter resounds throughout the parking lot, turning several people's curious heads.

Dan grimaces, turning away from the spectacle. “Amanda.”

Lee laughs. “Woah, that’s fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. He knows Lee is only saying it to suck up to him, but he’ll take the validation where he can get it right now. “Like, what does he see in her, y’know?”

“Fuck knows,” Lee answers obediently, sounding ridiculously pleased to be asked. “She’s just one of the clones.”

Dan turns to Lee. “Right?” He nods in agreement. “She’s so… boring.”

“Totally,” Lee says. “So, is he asking her out then?”

“I guess,” Dan says, frowning. “She broke up with her boyfriend at lunch today.”

“I know,” Lee says too quickly. “I mean, oh. Yeah, I wondered what everyone was babbling about.”

A semi-smile forms on Dan's lips at Lee’s transparency. Just then, the growl of an engine sounds, and Dan turns just in time to see Hardy’s car pull up beside Lilian’s, idling there as he watches the proceedings. Dan’s on his feet in seconds, terrified for Phil’s safety, but to his surprise, Hardy doesn’t even open his door. Phil glances at the Porsche, and then focuses back on Amanda, nodding at whatever she’s saying. Dan perches back on the wall, tense and ready to sprint over at the first sign of trouble. Suddenly, Phil is grinning widely, ridiculously pleased about something. Hardy’s engine revs furiously, and he speeds off, tyres screeching as he glides through the exit, out onto the road. Phil waves to Amanda as she hops in the passenger seat of Lilian’s car, then they too are driving away. Phil stares after the car for a moment, then turns slowly. He jogs back over towards Dan, eyes wide and rounded.

“She said yes,” Phil says mutedly once he’s close enough. Then, the realisation seems to seep in. He fist pumps the air, Breakfast Club style, and Dan rolls his eyes. “She said yes! I can’t believe it!”

Something twists and coils in the pit of Dan’s stomach; a wet, thick snake knotting itself around his organs.

“Congrats,” Dan spits out, not meeting Phil’s eye.

Phil just laughs, wrapping his arms around Dan and shaking him.

“C’mon grumpy, don’t be mad just ‘cause you were wrong.” Phil looks to Lee. “Can you believe Dan tried to talk me out of this, Lee? He thought I’d never be in with a chance!”

“Er, right,” Lee says unsurely.

“I’ve gotta go to work,” Dan says, shrugging Phil’s arms off him and standing up.

“Aw, man,” Phil says, seeming disappointed. “I’ll come see you later on, then we can brainstorm about Prom-plans.” He grins in utter delight, spinning around on the spot.

“No,” Dan warns him uselessly, like always. “We’ve been over this – don’t come to my work, you’re gonna get me fired.”

“Your grumpy attitude is what’ll get you fired,” Phil says, pinching his cheek so that Dan swats at him. “Can you imagine this guy serving you coffee, Lee? I think I’d be too afraid to drink it if I didn’t know what a big old softie he is.”

“Shut up,” Dan growls, rolling his eyes.

“Bye Lee! See you later on, Dan!” Phil calls as he skips off towards the school gate, not a care in the world.

“No! Phil, I mean it, don’t- oh, fuck’s sake.” Dan trails off as he realises Phil is out of earshot. “Lee, I’ve changed my mind, gimme a cigarette.”

Lee scrambles to comply as Dan sticks out his hand, impatient. He’s late already and Louise might be annoyed about it, but he couldn’t exactly say no to Phil begging him to stick around. Dan grabs a cigarette from the pack Lee offers him at once, sticking it between his lips.

He jabs a finger at Lee, irritated. “You’re too young to start smoking,” he growls. “I’m taking these.”

Dan snatches the whole packet from him, then shoves it into his back pocket. He brings a lighter up to the one in his mouth, inhaling deeply. With a final nod towards Lee, he heads for the school gates.

When Phil inevitably shows up to the café, he’s still grinning. He flops down on one of the stools beside the counter, chin in his hand as he watches Dan make a macchiato.

“I cannot believe this is real,” Phil says. “I told her that I thought she seemed like a genuine and lovely person, and that I’d liked her for a while, and she was so sweet about it.”

Dan is really not up for a retelling of the event he saw not three hours ago, but it seems he doesn’t have much of a choice. He begins to froth the milk, not watching the spout, and spills some over his hand.

“Ow, shit!” Dan hisses.

“Hey, are you okay?” Phil asks, sitting up straight, face suddenly full of concern. “Be careful.”

Dan rolls his eyes as he cradles his burnt hand. “Thanks for the advice, Phil.

“Let me see,” Phil says, holding out his hand.

Dan stares at it for a moment, then warily places his own into it. Phil tuts at it, frowning. “Silly billy. Do you have any ice back there?”

“In the freezer,” Dan admits, waving vaguely towards the kitchen.

“Go get some and wrap it in a tea towel. It’ll stop it swelling,” Phil instructs him.

Dan smirks. “Thanks, Nurse.”

Phil flaps his hands at Dan until he does as told. Unfortunately, once Dan’s hand is safely chilled according to instructions, Phil is back on Amanda again.

“I was terrified when Hardy pulled up,” Phil tells him. “You should’ve seen his face when Amanda agreed to Prom. I was so sure I was about to be beaten to a pulp.”

“So was I,” Dan mutters, placing the macchiato on to a tray crammed with several other drinks.

He walks around the counter and over to Table Ten, a group of older women wearing tennis gear, and begins dishing out the drinks they ordered. Some of them thank him with cautious smiles, and some of them eye him judgily, lips pursed, noses upturned. When he returns to the counter, Phil is gone; immediately Dan is ready to murder him. He pushes through the door to the kitchen at the back, and finds Phil exactly where he knew he would, sat up on one of the metal countertops, nibbling a flapjack.

“Phil! For fuck’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you that you aren’t allowed back here?”

Phil just smirks at him, amused. “At least once more, it would seem.”

Dan rolls his eyes. Then, after a perfunctory glance out into the café floor to make sure there are no new customers, he hops up beside Phil on the counter.

“Give me a bit, then,” Dan says moodily, holding out his hand. Phil breaks off a bit of flapjack, which he then proceeds to feed directly into Dan’s mouth. “Oi! Mmpthhh.”

“Yummy, right?” Phil says, biting off another bit. “Did you make these?”

Dan nods, reluctantly admitting to himself that they’re pretty good. “I have to whip up a big batch of them every Friday.”

“I’m gonna enter you in Bake Off,” Phil says dreamily, swallowing another bite.

Dan shakes his head. “I swear too much for the BBC.”

“True,” Phil agrees, feeding Dan another morsel. This time, Dan just lets him. “So, where should I take Amanda on Prom night? Before we get to the dance, I mean.”

The flapjack starts to curdle in Dan’s stomach. “I dunno. Where d’you wanna take her?”

“Somewhere… unusual,” Phil says contemplatively, leaning back against the wall. “Where would you wanna go, if someone was taking you on a romantic first date?”

Dan snorts, his cheeks warming. “Dates aren’t really… my thing.”

“No?” Phil asks. “Have you never…?”

“The kinds of people interested in me don’t tend to want romance, Phil.”

This time, it’s Phil’s turn to blush. “Oh.”

Dan chuckles at his reaction, hopping down off the counter and brushing crumbs from his apron. “Just take her to a fancy restaurant or something. That’s what she’ll be used to.”

The customer bell pings. Dan sighs, retying his apron as he walks back out to face the public. By the time he’s finished serving, Phil has found his way back to the stool he’d been sat in earlier.

“I don’t wanna take her somewhere she’d expect to be taken,” Phil says. “I wanna show her something different.”

“She’s one of the Elite, Phil,” Dan replies, eyebrow raised. “She’s gonna want an expensive night out somewhere glam. The pricier the better.”

Phil smiles, brushing flapjack crumbs from his lips. “We’ll see.”

“That’s nice,” Phil says, softly. “Who wrote that?”

Dan stops playing abruptly, fingers snatching themselves off the keys so fast that it’s almost comical. He balls his hands into fists, embarrassed that Phil’s been paying attention.

“I was just messing around.”

“You mean you just made that up off the top of your head?” Phil asks, peering at Dan over the top of his sketchbook.

Dan shrugs without answering, wanting to change the subject. “What’re you drawing?”

Phil smirks, turning the page around. There are several rough sketches of a girl on the page, all of them action shots. She’s swinging a tennis racket in a tiny, pleated skirt. She’s dancing with a faceless figure, being spun on her heel. She’s running down the school steps, her long curls floating behind her. It’s obvious who Phil is depicting here, even if the sketches lack detail.

“Cute,” Dan says with distaste. “Are you gonna slip little creepy drawings of her into her locker?”

Phil laughs, a soft, tinkling sound. “I was thinking of painting her, actually. Do you think she’d find that creepy?”

“Only one way to find out.” Dan shrugs. “Hey, you’ve been drawing for ages, you can’t have been sketching those little figures this whole time.”

Phil winks enigmatically, closing his sketchbook and tossing it onto his desk. “It’s pretty late,” Phil yawns, glancing at the clock. “Are you going home, or…?”

“Is that a hint that I should hit the road?” Dan asks, heart thudding.

Phil smiles warmly, patting the space next to him on the bed. “No, I was just wondering. Do you wanna stay the night?”

Dan shrugs like it doesn’t mean a lot either way, but he feels the tsunami of relief from his scalp to his toes. “Sure.” Then, because he feels like he should: “Thanks.”

“You can stay here whenever you want, you know,” Phil says for the hundredth time, then lets out a yawn. “Just don’t hog the covers this time.”

It doesn’t matter how many times Phil says it, Dan will never really believe him. He’s very glad that Phil seems to understand he needs an actual invite before he can allow himself to inconvenience the Lester household yet again. In an ideal world, Dan would just wander home after a few hours with his friend, have a nice dinner made for him by loving parents, and be tucked into bed. Instead, the idea of sneaking in the front door of his house and dealing with… everything he’ll find inside is sometimes just too much to bear. Phil’s house is so lovely and homely. His mum is a proper mum, warm and sweet. She makes wholesome dinners for Phil every night and always invites Dan to join them if he’s round without complaint. Phil’s room isn’t big or particularly luxurious, but he’s got a double bed, and his walls are covered in posters of his favourite bands. He has a falling-apart piano in the corner, which Dan likes to experiment with, and a huge collection of DVD’s, built up through a lifetime of charity shop and boot sale purchases. Phil heaves himself off the bed, heading for his chest of drawers. He pulls out a pair of pyjamas, and turns to Dan.

“Do you want something to sleep in?”

“Okay,” Dan says quietly, because despite having stayed here a zillion times, he still feels like an annoyance. “Thanks.”

Phil throws a big ‘Sunnydale High’ t-shirt at him.

Dan holds it up for inspection, snorting at the design. “Fucking Buffy nerd.”

“Says the guy who practically wept with joy when I got him the Angel box set for Christmas,” Phil counters, and Dan stands up to whip him with the shirt.

“Did not.”

“You’re in love with Angel!” Phil laughs, bringing his Elmo pyjama trousers up to defend himself. “Which is way more embarrassing than being in love with Buffy.”

“Angel is the best character,” Dan says defensively.

“Who chooses Angel over Spike?” Phil says, sounding incredulous. “It’s madness! Spike is so much hotter-”

Just then, Phil’s bedroom door opens, and Phil’s mum stands there, holding two mugs in her hands. “Sorry to interrupt, boys! But as it’s a school night I think it’s bedtime, don’t you? I brought you some hot chocolate to help you doze off. Dan, I assume you’re staying?”

“Yeah, he’s sleeping over,” Phil tells his mum, for which Dan is eternally grateful, because it means he doesn’t have to. Phil takes one of the mugs and hands it to him, then takes the other for himself.

“I-if that’s alright Mrs Lester,” Dan says, his blush deepening. “Thank you for the hot chocolate.”

“Don’t be silly, Dan, love!” She exclaims, laughing. “You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“I keep trying to tell him,” Phil says, slurping hot chocolate.

Dan rolls his eyes, nudging Phil with his foot.

“Well, I’ll let you two get settled then.” Mrs Lester beams, giving them a little wave. “Night, boys.”

As soon as the door is closed, Phil plonks himself down on the bed, sipping at his drink. Despite the interruption, Dan can’t help but rewind to the conversation they’d been having just before Phil’s mum entered the room. Phil described Spike, a male character on a TV show, as 'hot'. While that may be a very accurate statement, it throws Dan a little. Unless Dan has been very inattentive, he’s pretty certain that Phil has never expressed his attraction to a guy before, fictional vampire or not. He stares at Phil curiously as he sips hot chocolate, wondering if he can bring it up without sounding like a weirdo.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Phil asks. “Waiting for me to strip off?”

Dan flushes without meaning to. “Shut up, rat. I’m going to change in the bathroom.”

He can hear Phil giggling to himself from out in the hall.

“What do you like about her?”

Phil rolls over to look at him, and Dan doesn’t have to turn his head in order to know there’s a crease between his best friend’s brows.

“Amanda?”

“Yeah.”

He feels the covers shifting as Phil draws his shoulder up in a shrug. “Lots of things.”

“Her face?”

“Yes, I like her face,” Phil replies, voice tinged with amusement.

“Her body?” Dan asks.

Phil laughs softly. “Yeah, that too.”

Dan swallows around something sharp in his throat. It’s so quiet in Phil’s house. There’s no door slamming or shouting or footsteps pounding up and down the stairs. Usually, Dan leaves his window open so that he can hear the wind and the occasional murmur of a car rumbling by. Phil likes his open too, but in this quiet, suburban street, there’s virtually no sound. Phil shifts beside him, and Dan has to bite his lip. Tonight, laid in Phil’s bed, under his blue and green duvet, feels different to how it usually does. The air is thicker, weightier. Stifling. Phil’s body isn’t touching his, but it might as well be. The heat pours off him, like he’s a crackling bonfire, roasting Dan slowly. As he lies there, taut and unmoving, focused entirely on the body beside him, a slow, creeping realisation begins to spread through Dan’s limbs.

Amanda Jones has never been anything to Dan before now. She’d barely even registered on his radar. Just another boring bimbo in an obnoxious group of high school posers. Yet now, an intense, vicious hatred for the girl is spreading through him, finding every crevice of his body, clogging each pore. He loathes her, from her snub, pointed nose, to the twig legs shoved into clacky stiletto heels. A dawn is beginning to crest over the darkness from the blanket Dan has been holding over his own eyes. It’s only here, in Phil’s bed, with nothing to distract from the sight and smell and feel of him so close, that Dan is beginning to see the obvious. And the sight burns. A flush spreads over his chest, across his neck and shoulders as the weight of his own idiocy settles in. He should have seen it sooner. It should have been blaringly obvious. Dan’s been a fool, ignorant and dully predictable.

Falling for his best friend. How cliché.

A hand on Dan’s warm, bare arm makes him jump.

“Hey, are you okay?” Phil asks. “You’re breathing all weird.”

Dan sends a prayer of thanks to the skies above that the deep scarlet of his skin is likely not visible in the dark.

“Yep,” he lies, trying to will Phil to remove his hand with the power of his mind alone.

Self-loathing courses through the synapses in Dan’s brain, and he curses himself for allowing himself to get into this situation. Phil Lester is the one person that tolerates him. He’s the one person that Dan actually likes, and that – absurdly – seems to want to be his friend. This crush could ruin that. Dan’s never been known for his level-head, nor his ability to keep his mouth shut. If he lets this jealous streak continue, and keeps attacking Amanda every time Phil brings her up, Phil could grow tired of it. He could stop hanging around Dan, could abandon him completely. It might be one of the cruellest tricks life has played on him yet. Not only is Dan now going to have to pretend he has no romantic feelings for Phil, he’s going to have to watch him date Amanda Jones of all people. There’s no question whatsoever that this revelation must remain a secret. As far as Dan is aware, Phil is likely not interested in men, and even if he were, the two of them are best friends. If Phil knew about Dan’s feelings, it would drive a wedge between them, as Phil would no longer know how to act. The one thing that must be prevented at all costs is losing Phil, even as a friend. The thought is horrific.

Phil sits up then, switching on his bedside light. Dan squints and groans as the light blinds him, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes. Phil apologises, turning down the dimmer switch.

“Dan, are you sure you’re alright?” Phil asks again, frowning. He places a hand on Dan’s forehead; it’s such a sweet, gentle touch. “Are you feeling sick?”

Dan shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “I’m fine,” Dan says; reluctantly, Phil sinks back down into the mattress. “I’m just overthinking. You know me.”

“Unfortunately,” Phil quips, so Dan smacks him in the shoulder.

Phil grabs hold of his hand as it lands, and Dan actually has to hold in a squeak. He tries to pull away, but Phil holds tight.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Phil commands.

Dan swallows thickly; Phil starts to trace patterns into his palm.

“I’m worrying you’re making a mistake,” Dan decides to say, though he hates himself for it. “What if Amanda’s only agreeing to this to make Hardy jealous?”

Phil’s finger stops circling. A silence ensues, and Dan wonders if Phil is angry. It would be unusual, as Phil hardly ever gets mad.

“Maybe she is,” Phil says unexpectedly, starting to draw squiggles up and down Dan’s fingers. “But so what?

Dan blinks at him, turning so that he and Phil are staring into one another’s eyes. It’s not helping to quell Dan’s latent realised desires, but that can’t be helped. “What?”

“I can still show her a nice time,” Phil says with a shrug. “I still think she deserves to be treated well, and I still want to be the one to do it. You never know, maybe she’ll change her mind about Hardy once she sees how different it could be with me.”

Dan worries his lip ring between his teeth, and Phil’s eyes train on the action; it makes Dan want to burrow under the covers and hide.

“Phil… Hardy Jenns isn’t the kind of guy you wanna get on the wrong side of,” Dan says for the second time, trying to load his voice with the appropriate amount of urgency. “He’s scary and he has a lot of influence. If you go on a date with Amanda, you’re gonna be top of his hit list.”

“I’m not scared of Hardy Jenns, Dan,” Phil says, rolling his eyes.

“You should be, though,” Dan says. “Have you ever even taken a punch, Phil? ‘Cause he won’t hesitate to deck you if you piss him off.”

Phil smiles, squeezing a fist around Dan’s fingers. “You’re so cute, getting all concerned for my safety.”

Dan flushes, ripping his gaze from Phil’s. “I can’t protect you from him, Phil. I might be able to scare him off if he’s on his own, but he’s got all his fuckboy friends-”

“Dan, shh. You don’t need to protect me.” Fondness radiates out of every one of Phil's pores. Dan feels suffocated by it, imagines it pouring into his lungs, choking his breath from him. “I get that you’re tough and scary and you could probably kick Hardy’s ass, but that’s not why I hang around with you.”

“So, why do you?” Dan can’t help asking, his voice choked.

“Because you’re amazing,” Phil says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re ridiculously intelligent for a start. You read Sartre and Marx for fun. Your favourite films are all Godard and Truffaut.”

“That doesn’t make me amazing,” Dan says scornfully. “That makes me pretentious.”

“Maybe a little,” Phil says, the corner of his mouth curling into a smile. “But you’re also incredibly talented.” Dan makes a ‘pfft’ sound. “No, seriously. You’re the best pianist I’ve ever heard. I can’t understand how you can create something so beautiful out of nothing. I can’t draw a straight line without inspiration, but you just sit at that rickety old stool and play masterpieces off the top of your head.”

Dan purses his lips, wondering how on earth he can explain that he does have inspiration, obviously, without mentioning that literally all of his pieces are spawned from thinking about Phil.

“You’re sharp and witty,” Phil continues. “You have this spiky exterior to fend everyone off, and you hate almost everyone in school.” Phil pauses, his smile widening. “But not me.”

Dan glances away from him; his palm is so sweaty now, he has no idea how Phil isn’t grossed out from holding his hand. “You wore me down.”

“Maybe,” Phil agrees with a chuckle. “If that’s true, then I’m grateful.”

Dan doesn’t know what to say. He’s mortified from head to toe, probably bright red because he has no idea how to accept compliments and he never has. Phil is being sickeningly sweet for seemingly no reason at all, and honestly the timing couldn’t be worse, because Dan realised only minutes earlier how madly in love with him he is.

“Well, thanks,” Dan says gruffly, rolling onto his back. “You’re really lame sometimes, did you know?”

Phil laughs at him, just like always, never taking Dan’s jibes to heart. Dan’s so glad Phil understands that he never means it when he’s a salty bitch. God, he really, really needs to not fuck up this friendship.

“So, Amanda…” Dan says. He flounders for something to ask about this beaten horse of a topic, and clutches at the first thing he can think of, despite not really wanting to know the answer. “Is she the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen?”

Phil sighs, and when Dan glances over at him, his eyes are shut. “Prettiest girl, yeah,” Phil mutters.

Dan frowns. “What’s that mean? Is there another category?”

“Mm, o‘course,” Phil mumbles after a moment. “Prettiest boy.”

Dan feels his breath catch in his throat. Don't ask. You don't want to know the answer.

He's never been good with impulse control. “Oh,” he says, forcing a small laugh. “And who wins that prize?”

Phil’s eyes flutter open briefly, latching on to Dan’s. “You, Dan. Duh.”

Phil’s eyes are closed again in moments, so he doesn’t get to see the astonishment on Dan’s face. Minutes pass before Dan can remember how to speak, or think of any sort of response, and by the time he opens his mouth, Phil is firmly in the land of dreams.

Chapter Four!

#phan #phan au #phanfic #some kind of folliful

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