Summary: Phil wishes whatever was rustling the bushes behind him would leave him tf alone so he could keep writing. He wishes that a little less so when he realizes it's a hot boy.

Genre: Fluff, getting together

Warnings: Swearing, homophobia, teeny bit of angst if u squint

This chapter is dedicated to my girlfriend, Maddie, because not only did she provide the list of AU ideas that inspired some of the backstory, but she also just generally inspires me to write so that maybe I can be as fabulous as her one day.

Phil snuck the laptop into his bag, heaving it over his shoulder before adding a couple of snacks and slinking out the door. He strolled through the warming spring air, trotting contentedly down the sidewalk and smiling at the beetles and kids that whizzed past him on their way to their destinations. He breathed in the smell of grass and continued walking, repositioning the strap of his bag so that it'd stop digging into his shoulder. He reached the gap in the wood with the large, granite marker and strode past it, winding his way down the hill to the large boulder hovering precariously over the bank of a bubbling stream. The rough stone gave him a good grip and a good many cuts as he scrabbled up it to the top, sighing as he unpacked the computer and water bottle from his school bag. He flipped the lid open and pulled up the document he'd been working on for the last few days, a romance novel he knew he'd never get around to following through with. He was about one paragraph in when he heard a muffled rustling from the brush a few metres behind him, and, hoping it was a fawn or a fox kit, he peeped his head up over the crest of his black rock ever so slowly so as not to scare it, yet get a glimpse of it all the same.

At first, he saw nothing, just the rustle of the brown leaves left over from winter but a few days ago, and swaying thorn vines. It wasn't until a few seconds of squinting later that he saw a mop of brown hair fighting its way through the brambles and over the hill, followed by a lanky body and the most adorable concentration face Phil had ever seen. Cute as the boy may be, Phil was slightly disgruntled by his appearance. Phil had never had to compete with another human for nature's approval down here, and now it seemed as if he'd have to. He sunk below the peak of his rock and cursed the cute boy with the cute dimple, poking his keys ever so slightly harder.

It was another thirty minutes, after Phil had been once again lost in the story of the boy and the girl and the love, if not a little wistful that he could write it about a boy more like himself, when he heard the boy's soft singing behind him. He nearly fell off his rock and into the water he was so startled, but he couldn't find it in him to be mad at the boy. His singing was soft and low, something about a playground and hands pressed to cheeks. Phil disliked that he liked it so much. He hummed about the playground and the cheeks as he went back to work, stopping when he heard the boy behind him stop as well.

"Is... is someone there?" asked the boy in a wavering, yet decisive voice from his sitting position against an ivy-covered oak, tilting his head towards the noise and shuffling his copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban off of his lap.

Phil internally groaned, and the urge to slap himself upside the head was strong. The brown-haired boy wasn't meant to know that he was there. He'd probably ask why Phil was stalking him and tell him to stop. That'd be embarrassing.

"Yeah, um, I am,I guess," Phil scratched his neck and slowly raised his head over the rough edge of the rock, blushing as he did so.

Phil couldn't tell the boy's facial expression from as far away as he was, but he could guess it wasn't a smile that was occupying his face at that moment. "Oh um, how long have you been there? Exactly?" Phil could practically hear the blush in his voice.

"Since before you got here, actually. I was too awkward to disturb you enough to tell you I was here."

The boy's small laugh made its way to Phil's redenning ears, and when it did, it only barely made its presence known. "I'm like that too. Ever-awkward, never charming."

Phil giggled into his hand, intent on being sure the boy wasn't aware that Phil was already growing fond of him. "Are you saying I'm not charming?" Phil sat up a little more and faced the boy, mocking offence.

Slightly tanned hands collided with a slightly paler forehead, and the boy ran his fingers through his hair. "No that's.. that's not what I meant at all, but of course it came out that way because I am an asshole," the boy shook his head at himself and smiled half-heartedly at Phil."I'm.. okay so I'm Dan and I'm an asshole. What about you?"

Phil grinned and swung his legs around the side of the rock so that he was facing the boy, Dan, fully, scraping his jeans along the calloused surface of the rock as he did so. "I'm Phil. I'm also an asshole, but the pretentious kind who pretends he can write. I also don't swear usually, but it seems I've just made an exception. You should feel blessed."

Dan mock-bowed to Phil, grinning as he emerged from his folded position over his legs. He then sat up straighter than before so that his back was flush against the tree, and he pulled his knees up to his chest. "So, Phil," Dan inclined his head at the black-haired boy clad in a purple, plaid hoodie, "dost thou mother know thy sitteth near the stream with thine computer near dusk?" His attempt at sounding like the pretentious writer/asshole that Phil had just described sounded stupid the minute it left his face, and he was sure Phil's smile was only widening across his face because he was about to laugh at him.

"Why no, strapping young lad, she do'st not. I can trust thy will not telleth her?" Dan had gotten about half of a "thine" out before he burst out laughing, followed shortly by Phil. It was at least half a minute before either boy was able to control himself, and Phil cast a glance at the sky.

"Now, that you mention it, though, it is getting quite late. I should probably head back." He made a move as if to ask for some way of contacting Dan, but once again his lack of talking-to-people skills got the better of him, and he set off up the winding path with nought but a wave.

~

The next day promised slightly cooler air, and Phil started out towards the creek with a shiver. He swung his backpack up into the rock upon arriving at the creek, and he listened to the birds chirp and the frogs croak. As much as he told himself that he was obviously down there for writing and relaxation only, he still bolted up with a smile when he heard rustling and grumbled cursing coming from the direction of the brush behind him.

"Hello!" he called from atop his perch, waving to Dan as the boy smiled back at him, despite his current bramble-centered position. "How're those brambles treating you?"

Dan grunted. "I don't... know why... these even... have... to exist," he managed while tearing his bag and jeans away from the thorns with mighty tugs as he waded through the mess.

Phil laughed, "You know there's a pathway that veers away from the thorns, right? It circles up a bit, so it'll take more time but, like, no brambles."

Dan stopped fighting the bushes and stared at Phil. "Are you kidding me. Are you kidding me? This is so gross. I am appalled. All this work for nothing. Disgusting." He stepped carefully over the last jagged vine and slumped against his tree trunk, blowing his bangs out of his face agitatedly. Phil tried to hide his giggle behind his laptop, but the sound reached Dan's ears nonetheless. He pretended to look angry, but he was blushing all the same.

Phil went back to his typing and Dan watched. "What're you writing about?" asked a curious Dan from his tree, putting his book down to walk over to Phil's rock. Phil quickly shut his laptop and hugged it to his chest, looking in the opposite direction of Dan's face.

"Nothing," he said to the uninterested dove he was currently locking eyes with.

"Ooo, is it super embarassing? Is it a romance novel?" Phil blushed and looked down while Dan's beanie nearly fell off in his laughing fit. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't mind romance, really, I don't, and if you're writing it and it makes you happy then good. What are the character's names?"

Phil cast his gaze down towards his converse, "Um Christopher and Aria."

Dan nodded. "I tried to write an action adventure book once, but when I told my mom that the main character was gay, she made me stop."

Phil grabbed his left shoulder with his right sheepishly and looked up at Dan through his glasses, "yeah, I'm kind of in the same place right now. My mom told me she wouldn't read it unless it was about a girl and a boy, so all plans for the other boy were kind of thrown out the window."

"Yeah, I know that feel," sighed Dan, hopping up on Phil's rock and leaning against a rather large bump, "I get in enough trouble with my mom without writing books that piss her off."

Phil raised an eyebrow, setting his laptop aside so that he could turn to face Dan. "What kind of trouble? You some kind of super macho rebel guy or something?"

Dan laughed lightly. "Or something." They settled into a comfortable silence, Phil going back to typing as Dan, having left his book by the tree, settled on staring up at the rustling leaves.

~

A few minutes later, Dan wandered back to his tree to retrieve his book and hopped back up on the rock next to Phil. All that could be heard was the buzzing of bees and the turning of pages until half an hour later Dan suddenly shut his book with a snap. "I swear to god I hate JK Rowling. Why the fuck would she make Sirius go into hiding? He was innocent! I swear to god I read this book like once every few months and every time I get more frustrated. He didn't even do anything!" Dan's face turned pink as he realized he'd just ranted out loud to a slightly startled looking Phil, who proceeded to break out in a fit of giggles.

"What?" Dan asked, already on the defensive.

Phil had to work to keep in a snort, "it's nothing; I agree, it's just that, well, my characters were kinda in the middle of a heated makeout scene." At this, Dan started laughing as well, clutching his book to his chest so as to keep it from tumbling into the water below.

"You were writing makeout scenes with a straight face while I sat next to you? You're a brave man," Dan choked out after his laughter stopped shaking his body.

"What if they were making out with you, huh? huh? What're you gonna do about it?" Phil asked, whilst shoving his laptop in Dan's face, mocking kissing noises.

Dan nearly fell off the rock laughing and squealing, trying his best to get Phil's laptop out of his face without knocking it into the water all the while trying to maintain a glare. Phil drew his laptop back with a laugh.

It was another fifteen minutes before Phil started packing his stuff back into his bag, throwing wary glances at the setting sun. He had already said goodbye to Dan, and was taking his first steps up the winding path before he stopped, turning around to face Dan. "Hey, is there anyway I can contact you, like, outside of yelling through the bushes?" He wasn't normally the kind of person that would ask something like this, as waiting impatiently for said acquiantance to offer up the information his or herself was more his style, but talking to Dan was stupidly easy, and he reckoned Dan wouldn't mind.

"Hey, of course, yeah," he shuffled some papers around and fished a pen out of his pocket, attempting at scribbling a number on a sheet on the bumpy surface of the rock. He handed the wrinkled paper to Phil and he took it, smiling as he headed up towards the top of the hill.

~

Phil would've waited to text Dan for the mandatory three days, he really would've, but it was ten at night and he was putting off homework, and it obviously wasn't his fault.

10:43 TO Dan: Hello :)

10:44 FROM Dan: Hello?

10:44 TO Dan: It's me, your romance-novel-writing creek person. He would've gone with friend, but he had a habit of overstepping boundaries and jumping to conclusions about the extent of relations, so he tried to play it cool.

10:44 FROM Dan: Ah, hello, my creek friend. Phil smiled at the word and was about to reply when another message came in. *Awkwardly eats sock*

10: 45 TO Dan: What

10:45 FROM Dan: like the first thing I told you was that I'm awkward, what were you expecting

10:45 TO Dan: You're right: It's all my fault and I am despicable

10:46 FROM Dan: yep pretty much xD

The light teasing and genuine interest in each other continued endlessly, and by midnight, Phil had established that a) Dan went to a different school from him, b) Dan's life was about three billion times cooler than his was, and c) he really needed to do his homework.

He told Dan he had to go and reluctantly set his phone down, bringing his trig binder towards his crossed legs. He sighed as he dragged his text book towards him, and he realized it was going to be a long night.

~

It was only a week later, after Jack had caught Phil once again drop everything to smile as he answered a text, that he decided to speak up about it. "Phil, I understand that you're the one kid who didn't despise broccoli when you were growing up, but is there any particular reason that you're smiling into it?"

Phil hid a blush and tucked his phone into his back pocket. "Nothing, it's nothing, I just um-"

"Seriously Phil, who's the dude?" Jack interrupted, pointing at Phil's phone with his white, plastic cafeteria fork.

It was impossible for him to hide his blush this time. "There is no 'dude,' just some guy I met at the creek who is just a friend," said Phil, jumping up to unlock his phone when it chimed yet again. Jack raised an eyebrow and Phil stared down at his phone screen to avoid his look of "yeah Phil, some guy who you just jumped up to text you big dopey asshole."

Considering this was the exact look Jack was giving him, it seemed a wise choice.

~

Phil was sitting at the end of the long, chestnut table as his mother and father once again engaged in conversation about work. He pushed his soggy brussle sprouts around his plate dejectedly as he zoned in and out of the conversation.

"That delinquent boy again," said his mother, shaking her secretly unnatrally strawberry blonde head, "will he ever learn his lesson? We've warned him what, five? Six times? Fined him about three? What else do we have to do to get him to understand that he can't go around tagging buildings?"

His father swallowed a mouthful of dry meatloaf before speaking up. "And did you hear what he's tagged it with this time?"

His mother nodded. "Some Shakespeare quote, I heard."

"Was it Shakespeare? 'Doth mother know thy wearest her drapes?' is that Shakespeare? Certainly doesn't sound modern."

Phil let out a snort, the water he was drinking nearly shooting out of his nose. His parents paid him no mind as they continued their work conversation.

"And he paired it with a replica of Starry Night as well. Honestly! Isn't there something better he could be doing with his time? Homework or something? We're cops, not tutors," said his mother agitatedly.

Phil had to admit, the guy had style.

He fell asleep with Van Gough in his mind and Dan's texts in his hand.

~

11:43 I just don't get it. Texted Phil, two weeks later. I don't even know what a cosign is.

11:43 FROM Dan: I did Trig last year. I could tutuor you, if you want? ((And it's cosine))

11:44 TO Dan: That would be awesome! I wouldn't have to get some valedictorian robot-brain to make me do four-hundred problems a night.

11:44 FROM Dan: Cool. Could I maybe come over to yours around seven on thursday? I'm sorry for inviting myself over, but my mom's a little preoccupied with my brothers, and she'd probably have a heart attack if I brought you over, and then she'd smack me with a broom.

11:45 TO Dan: How would she smack you with a broom after a heart attack though?

11:45 FROM Dan: Her heart may be frail but her hatred for my "delinquency" is immortal.

Phil laughed an agreed, telling himself he'd ask his parents the next day.

~

Thursday rolled around quickly enough, and Phil was excited about math for the first time since year five. He rushed past his mother in her attempt to get the door when the bell rang, and he opened it with a try for casual, pushing his hair back and leaning against the wall. "Come on in," he said in what he thought was a cool way, folding his arms and gesturing towards the foyer with his head.

Dan smiled and crossed the threshold, ducking his head as he passed Phil's mum in order to avoid any awkward smile attempts or waves. Phil showed him up the short, carpeted staircase and to the right, following the brightly lit hallway to his bedroom. Phil sprawled himself out across his bed upon arriving, and Dan perched himself at the corner of it, drawing his math binders from his bag.

Phil sighed. "Are you actually going to make me study? I was hoping this was just an excuse for you to come over to my house and hang out."

Dan laughed and rifled through some pages in his peeling yellow binder, turning around to sit fully on Phil's bed, legs crossed. "I can't be friends with someone who drops out of highschool, Phil. I'm pretty sure it's a law. I'm doing this as much for our friendship's sake as your education's."

Phil let out a louder, more dramatic sigh and pushed himself up, giving Dan his best puppy dog eyes.

"You're not going to convince me to ruin your education just because you're cute." Phil blushed at Dan's words.

~

An hour later and Dan was meant to be packing up to leave, but they'd gotten into the groove of a studying game, and Phil was having a lot more fun than he'd imagined. It was only when Phil's parents called him down to dinner that he remembered Dan was not intending on staying with him forever.

Phil told Dan to stay in his room as he went downstairs to clear things up with his parents, hoping he would convince them to let Dan stay for dinner. He didn't want him walking home alone without food. Nothing was worth doing if you couldn't do it with food in your stomach, that was Phil's philosophy.

After a couple of texts back to Dan's mum, and a short conversation with Phil's parents, it was settled, and a fourth place was set at the table. Lasagna was just being dished onto Dan's plate when he finally came down. He scooted himself in to the table alongside Phil, and he had just started happily chatting with him when Phil's mum turned around and nearly threw her fork at him.

"You! What are you doing here? Why are you in my house? Didn't I tell you you shouldn't be assosciating yourself with any of the good boys of this neighborhood?" Dan was taken aback by her words for only a few seconds, and then he scowled. Even without her badge and cap, she was recognizable, as was her husband. This was the same duo that had brought him into the station on multiple accounts for his street art. They were they reason he fought with his mother. He hated them.

Dan wished he could stand up for himself and talk back, but even in his highly aggitated state, it registered in the back of his brain that he'd never be able to see Phil again if he did, and that was something that he was not so willing to subject himself to. He instead resigned to pushing his lasagna around his plate as he mumbled, "I didn't know you were gonna be here."

Meanwhile, amidst all the drama, Phil was trying to wrap his head around the situation. Having failed completely at that in the few seconds he gave himself to think, he decided to speak up. "What's going on? What've you got against Dan?"

His dad looked like his eyes were about to drop out of his face. "Oh he's Dan to you is he? This Daniel that's been vandalizing buildings and stirring up trouble for the past year?"

Dan mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "ten months" before Phi's dad spoke up again.

"I'd have thought you'd be a better judge of character than this, Phil," he said in a softer voice, acting as if Dan was not sitting right next to where he was standing.

"Now wait a minute," challenged Phil, turning around in his chair to face his dad, "I'd like to think I'm a very good judge of character, thank you very much, and Dan's been nothing but kind to me for the past three weeks. He's helping me with trig, for goodness sake, it's not exactly as if he's some illiterate delinquent." Dan wasn't quite sure whether to be offended or touched.

"Well as long as this boy is still tagging buildings and causing his mother trouble, I do not want him in my house," Phil's dad stated sternly, staring pointedly at Dan.

Dan could feel Phil's dad's gaze boring holes in his back, so he stood up, grabbed his leather jacket from the back of his chair and his backpack from the floor, and headed for the door.

"Dan, wait," Phil called attempting to follow Dan out of the house, "It's just come as a shock- they're just being unreasonable!" He was nearly out the door before his parents spoke up.

"Phil Lester, you are not to go out that door. You are coming back here, and we're going to have a good chat about the kind of company you keep."

It took but a moment's deliberation before he was closing the door in front of him and walking back towards his kitchen, his head hung low. He wasn't like Dan, and he knew that. He wasn't the kind of guy that could take shit from people more powerful than him and not want to burst into tears, because the fact of the matter was that he cared what other people thought, possibly too much. He wished he could be as carefree and layed back as Dan, but he just wasn't. So, he trudged into the range of his parents' disappointed gazes, and he waited for what was coming to him. He still ha a lot to learn from Dan, though, and a talk from his parents was by no means going to lessen the amount of time he spent with him.

~

9:13 TO Dan: I'm sorry about my parents. Did you get home okay? Did you get food? Did you get in trouble? Oh gods, I didn't mean you to get in trouble.

9:13 FROM Dan: I got home, and I got food, and I'm not in trouble. I'm more worried about you, though. Your parents seemed super pissed. Did they chew you out?

9:14 TO Dan: I'm fine, I guess. My parents tried to give me an "educational talk on keeping good company," but under all the airy tones, I could tell that they were trying not to yell at me.

9:15 FROM Dan: Hey, at least your parents try not to yell at you. My mom just let's it rip.

9:15 TO Dan: you make it seem like she farts on you.

9:15 FROM Dan: you can't prove she doesn't.

Phil giggled, then slapped a hand over his mouth. He was meant to be sulking in his bedroom and not texting Dan. He smiled with satisfaction as it dawned on him that, for once in his life, he was breaking some rules.

He texted Dan until late into the night, having finished his trigonometry homework when Dan was over. He fell asleep midway through typing out a response and ended up sending a long line of 'z's. Dan smiled and clicked his phone off, and not even the fact that Phil's parents hated his guts or the sound of his brother wailing in the other room could dullen his luminescent mood.

~

Phil let out a huff as he plunked down in his too-small plastic chair, having just had to rush from homeroom to his English class at the other end of the school in under four minutes. He was leaning to the side, drawing his binder and pencil case from his backpack when someone sat down beside him. He looked up quickly, having usually been the only one in the class to voluntarily sit in the front row, to see Dan smiling widely at him.

"Dan!" he smiled back, "What are you doing here?"

Dan kept his eyes on Phil as he unpacked the contents of his shool bag onto his desk. "Well, mum felt as if she was too preoccupied to continue to homeschool me, what with my little brother being a giant crybaby all the time, so I suggested she enroll me here and here I am."

Phil smiled as the teacher adressed the class, already excited for the day ahead.

Dan wasn't in Phil's next class, which meant he was double disappointed upon arriving in Economics. He was craving cheeseburgers hardcore by the time he got to the cafeteria, and he was very happy to see Dan waiting for him by the lunchlines with a nervous smile on his face. At least four girls had come up to Dan already, entranced by his leather jacket and their own desire to rebel against their dads and date the bad boy, and oh so politely mentioned that he could totally sit at their table anytime he wanted. He politely declined, though he was positive all of them were probably just fine human beings. It's not like he had a crush on Phil of course, he just wasn't interested in talking to any human beings besides Phil. Not a crush though. Definitely not that.

Dan entered the lunch line after Phil, Phil pointing out the crisps rack and soda machine. Dan had, of course, been to public school before, but he'd never been to this public school, and he was constantly anxious that he was going to say the wrong thing to the lunch lady and offend everyone. Better to not make a fool of himself on the first day, after all.

When they got to their table, Jack raised an eyebrow. "Jack this is Dan, Dan this is Jack," said Phil, placing his lunch tray on the round, grey table in front of him. Dan shot Jack a small wave and placed his tray on the side of Phil that wasn't occupied, sitting himself down.

"So this is the Dan you won't shut the fuck up abou-" Phil kicked him under the table- "I mean, that you speak highly of only every once in a while." Dan blushed at Jack's words, shoving a forkful of chicken alfredo into his mouth with curiosity.

"We don't generally eat here, by the way," Phil stated, throwing Jack a dirty look. "We usually eat out by the garden at the back." Dan looked slightly surprised. "Well I mean, we have fifty minutes to eat, so we're like, why not make the most of it, you know?"

Dan swallowed his mouthful of pasta. "That sounds cool, actually. Could we go there now?"

"Sure," enthused Phil, picking up his tray with one hand and beckoning to a begrudging Jack to come along.

"I mean, I just sat down," he grumbled, packing his stuff back into his lunch box before following Dan and Phil out the door.

They were halfway to the garden when Cinthia Carter, probably the most attractive person in the entire universe, rounded the corner with a group of friends, laying her eyes on Dan. He was a bit seperated from Phil and Jack, what with them being engaged in a conversation about something nerdy, and she took that as an opportunity to saunter up to him.

"Hey new guy, what's your name?"

"Uh, I'm Dan," he responded, noticing that Phil and Jack had stopped their conversationto stare at the interaction. Truth be told, in their two years of knowing her, not once had they had any opportunity to talk to her, and Jack was practically bawling seeing her conversing with Dan and not him.

"Well Dan, if you need a place to sit, we've got an open seat in the science room," she offered.

"Um, thanks, but I was just about to go out to the garden with Phil and Jack." Jack looked about ready to slap him in the face.

"Oh, alright then. Welcome to the school!" Dan smiled at her as she walked off.

He turned back around and Jack was positively glaring. "What'd you do that for? Cynthia is like, the hottest person in our grade. I would trade Phil's left eyeball to have a conversation with her."

Dan looked affronted. "I don't know, I'm friends with Phil, and I didn't know her, and plus she's not even that hot."

Jack looked at Dan as if he had just kicked a small puppy. There was that anger at his audacity, that bit of disgust, and just the tiniest smidge of hoping he went to prison. "'Not that hot?' 'Not that hot?' She is the face of Heaven! She's practically Hell, she's so hot! Except she's nice! She's nice Hell!" Dan and Phil made eye contact during Jack's little rant, and behind the raging boy, Phil was making funny faces and mocking his friend's speech. Dan had to try his hardest not to laugh.

"I don't know, she's just not my type," said Dan, shrugging after Jack finished his rant.

Jack scoffed. "Boys," he mumbled, leading the way to the garden where they'd be eating.

Dan compared his schedule with Phi's as they were sitting by the pea pods, and they were excited to find that they also had gym together, which would make PE that much less of a living Hell. Jack turned out to share only Physics, but it was three classes more than Dan had ever expected to have with these friends, so he was happy.

~

Dan's next week passed in a haze of newfound homework and Phil induced happiness. It was tuesday, and they were sitting side-by-side in English once again, prtending to pay rapt attention to the teacher whilst secretly tapping out morse code messages on each other's feet- a trick Dan had taught Phi one day up on the big rock. Phil had to hold in a giggle when Dan tapped out something particularly obscene, just as their teacher, who looked oddly similar to an egg, picked up speaking again.

"So I want these projects to be neat," he explained, holding up a poster board from one of his past classes, "but they should be creative as well. No one wants to look at a black and white poster board droning on about King Arthur's bravery. I'm looking for something others wouldn't have thought of yet. Now, I'm giving you a bit of a leash on this one because I'll be letting you pick your partners," everyone in the room turned with bright eyes towards their obvious partner of choice, "but only if you prove to me during this class period that you can handle it. Find a partner and start brainstorming."

Phil turned and began talking animatedly to Dan, who was looking at him with a blank expression. Around a minute into his speech about the character trait they should prove Arthur to have, Phil stopped.

"What is it?" He asked, setting the pencil, which he had previously been waving around excitedly, on the table.

Dan sighed, "it's just, well, I mean I just got here last week so I mean I haven't actually read the book."

Phil blushed. "Oh that would be true wouldn't it? Wow great going, me. You could borrow mine if you wanted? Just for the rest of the class, so you can get the gist."

Dan shrugged and Phil slid the book over to him, and the rest of the class was spent with Dan reading and Phil spitballing random ideas. By the time the bell has rung for third period, Dan had finished half the book, and Phil had an entire paper, front and back, of ideas. The project was due next week, and they already had that much done. Surely, they would be fine.

~

It was Thursday before they were faced with a problem. Dan and Phil couldn't meet up. Phil's parents didn't want Dan over, and they would certainly ask questions about where he was going and who he was meeting if Phil were to go over to Dan's, and he wasn't exactly the best liar. Nonetheless, Dan assured him that they'd find a way to complete the project.

Phil arrived home to fierce whispering and high tempers. With his entry into the house came a sudden halt in the whispers, but the tension was still stretched across the room, waiting to snap if Phil opened his mouth. He decided against talking and brushed past them, straight up to his room.

Of course it wasn't his homework that he immediatly set out to start the second he plopped down on his bed, but a text to Dan.

4:37 TO Dan: We need to formulate a plan on how to meet up tomorrow. Thoughts?

4: 38 FROM Dan: I'm thinking dynamite.

4:38 TO Dan: Okay but how are you going to hook it up? You not being allowed in my house is, like, the entire obstacle.

4:39 FROM Dan: Fine, bumblehead. I'll ride in on a galliant steed and gallop straight up the walls to your room. I will wear metal plates so blinding that your parents will not be able to tell it's me. I will be a hero.

4:39 TO Dan: You suggesting you'll be my knight in shining armor?

4:40 TO Dan: :P

4:42 TO Dan: I was joking btw

4:45 TO Dan oh frick did I scare you off

4:47 FROM Dan: sorry, I went to get a banana.

4:47 FROM Dan: yes. I am your knight and shining armor. You are my princess. I expect you to be in the Princess Peach dress at five o'clock sharp on Friday.

4:48 TO Dan: Idk man, sounds kinda kinky. Didn't know you were one for Princesses.

4:48 FROM Dan: I'm not generally. Aladdin's pretty rad. Araddin. AlASSin. Oh man. I'm getting off topic. Have you seen Aladdin's ass though? Damn. Anyway, I'm always down for kinky stuff with you ;P

4:49 TO Dan: *wiggles eyebrows suggestively*

Dinner was spent in hushed silence. He was just scrubbing the gumbo remnants off of his plate when his mom cleared her throat. "So, sweetie, you know I have that yoga thing with Babs tomorrow, and that karate class after" Phil nodded. This wan't new news, "and now your dad has this case to finish up, so you're going to be home alone until at least nine or ten. We're sorry to dump this on you, sweetie, but we've both comitted ourselves to our causes."

Phil was almost done rolling his eyes at his mom's apparent failure to recognize that he'd grown past age five when he realized that this was it. This was his ticket to see Dan. Admittedly, it wasn't as rebellious as he'd hoped, seeing as he was meeting in secret to do a school project, but it was cool nonetheless. The urge to throw on a leather jacket (preferably Dan's) was stronger now than ever before. Phil felt like the coolest kid on the block. Of course, thinking those words made him realize he maybe wasn't as cool as he thought. Keeping his face slack and nonplussed was a struggle, but he thought he'd managed it without looking like he was about to fart, and he coupled it with a nonchalant shrug. He was nailing this badass teenager thing.

The minute he was permitted, he ran upstairs to tell Dan the good news.

TO Dan: gUESS WHOSE PARENTS ARE LEAVING HIM WITH HIS HOUSE TO HIMSELF THIS FRIDAY???

FROM Dan: Leonardo DiVinci's?

TO Dan: don't be a buttclot, Dan. MINE (!!) we can do the project and be super rebellious and stuff😎

FROM Dan: i'm yELLIN

TO Dan: g OOD

FROM Dan: i gtg but I'll get down to business on that "super rebellious" thing...

TO Dan: oo like what

FROM Dan: B) bye princess peach

~

Phil slung his backpack to the side and tucked his key back into his pocket, yelling out to the quiet house, "anyone home?" When he was met with no reply, he smiled mischievously and bolted up to his room.

4:35 TO Dan: alright, you can head on over

4:36 FROM Dan: already halfway there, princess peach.

It was another seven minutes before Dan arrived at his door, as he'd had to traipse through the woods on foot. His backpack clinked suspiciously loudly as he trotted into Phil's foyer, but Phil discarded any thought about it. They wandered up to Phil's room, chatting animatedly about Howl's moving castle and how it related to their project. Dan suggested they include something about it, but Phil dismissed the idea with a shake of his head.

Dan splayed himself across Phil's bed the minute they got there, the backpack he'd brought resting against the foot of it.

"So," said Phil, nudging Dan's arm to the side to make room for himself, "where should we start?"

Dan huffed. "I don't know. We could type up some of the ideas we have and see how much of the board it covers?"

They got Phil's thesis typed up along with some random statements that Dan pulled out of his ass about courage in everyday life. They were just planning the layout of their board, Dan running the pads of his fingers absentmindedly over the smooth cardboard when he said, "What if we cut it into the shape of King Arthur?"

Phil rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, beacuse that'll go over real well. The teacher'll be all 'oh, what a nice generic person shape you've cut there!' and then I'll go 'oh thanks, it was Dan's idea.'" Phil laughed when Dan flipped him off.

Phil went back to typing and Dan, having finished all he knew enough about to do, had taken to whining. "Phhill I'm bored," he groaned, his head resting on Phil's leg as he twirled a sharpie between his fingers.

"Work on something then," said Phil, his eyes not leaving the screen.

Dan shook his head and found entertainment in the marker he was holding, uncapping and capping it repeatedly.

Phil found it increasingly hard to concentrate as Dan doodled on his arms, all light touches and softly drawn lines. He finally gave in when Dan started drawing looping lines on his neck. Dan's tongue poked out of his lips in concentration as he doodled a leaf onto the vine, and Phil trained his eyes intently on the clock to avoid looking at Dan's tongue and Dan's mouth and Dan's face as a whole. Dan's breath was on his neck and he felt like he was physically going to explode.

Dan finished his doodle in expert time, and Phil walked off to the bathroom to see what it looked like. There was a swirling intricate pattern that Phil knew he couldn't do if he took three hours, but he supposed it was Dan's practice with street art that had gotten him so quick at it. He walked smiling back into his room, where Dan was rummaging through his bag.

"Have you got stuffs for the project in there?" asked Phil as he hopped onto his bed, knocking into Dan's shoulder as he did.

"You could say that," Dan smiled micheiviously as he clanked around in the bag some more before pulling out a light blue bottle full of something clear.

Phil stared at him. "Vodka? Seriously? We have a project to work on, Dan. Plus, I'm not a college sorority girl."

Dan bumped Phil's shoulder with his elbow. "Come on, it'll be great. Just like, one shot each time you call me an asswipe?"

It took all Phil had to refrain from calling Dan an asswipe then and there.

"Seriously, Phil, it'll be fine. You're not going to die of alcohol poisoning from one shot." When Phil still looked like he was unsure, Dan spoke up again, "I've done this my fair share of times and I'm still a lean, mean, sexy machine. You'll be fiiine."

Phil lightened up at his words. Dan'd had drinks plenty of times and he was still Dan. He was still fun and nice and, if Phil was being honest with himself, kind of hot. Plus, Dan was right, he was hardly going to kick the can from one little cup.

"Fine," he decided, scooting closer to Dan and the bottle, "but I'll have you know that this is peer pressure and I do not condone it. Plus I'm blaming you if I wake up with a hangover."

Dan grinned, his leather jacket shining nearly as bright as his eyes. "Perfect."

He poured a bit into the cap of the bottle, letting it spill over a bit before handing it to Phil. "Okay, so I tried to get vanilla so it'd taste less like literal shit, but it'll still probably taste like a horse that guzzled hot sauce is peeing in your mouth."

Phil halted the cap halfway to his mouth to stare at it dubiously. Dan raised his eyebrow, challenging him. Phil looked him dead in the eyes and knocked back the cap, trying for his dignity's sake to not hack horribly like he urgently needed to do, but alas, his dignity was apparently as nonexistent as his ability to pretend he didn't want to make out with Dan. He coughed horribly as Dan laughed his hardest, and the exact reason his face was red could not be pinpointed.

Once he finished trying to eject his lungs from his face, he sat back, feeling slightly disappointed. He'd expected that kind of buzzing that was always described in stories, or a sudden sense of boldness. All he felt like was that his lungs were dying. By the time Phil had finished pondering, Dan had just finished his capful, letting out a small cough but seeming otherwise unaffected.

He grinned brilliantly, looking at Phil as if he was a star.

Phil didn't quite know when he'd taken his second and third shots, but suddenly he found himself smiling more than he remembered doing before. He still didn't feel drunk, or buzzing, but had he been paying attention, he'd have noticed the way the edges of his vision blurred. Maybe, though, Dan was always the only thing in focus.

It's not that Phil wasn't drunk, it was more that he refused to notice the way he didn't mind scooting closer to Dan in the way he would've been too scared to before. It wasn't that he heard the slight slur in Dan's words, but more that he was glaringly aware of Dan's legs draped across his thighs and Dan's hand on his shoulder and Dan Dan Dan Dan Dan.

"I swear to God, I have no idea how it even happened! I was just sitting there and then boom, red wine on my white pants. I swear I didn't touch it. I mean it, it was the ghost of a girl who bled through her shorts." Phil giggled at Dan's story, and when Dan leant on Phil's shoulder in a fit of laughter himself, Phil was struck with a warmth that spread from his shoulder down through his body, and he hoped to God that Dan couldn't hear the butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach.

"I bet it was just you being a dumbsquat," giggled Phil, and suddenly the head that had been resting under his shot up.

"You wanna go?" Dan asked, slapping on a mock northern accent and raising his fists in a way that made him look like an angry butterfly.

"Could you throw a punch without missing and knocking over a lamp?" Phil teased back, leaning on his palms on the bed.

"You want to test it out?" Said Dan, now closely mimicking a kangaroo.

Phil laughed, "No."

"Good. Neither do I," Dan huffed, sitting back on the bed to rest his head back on Phil's shoulder, apparently tired out by the jumping and fake swinging of fists.

Phil laughed endearingly, staring down at Dan's nose, which was the only thing he could see over Dan's brown mop of hair.

Their breathing steadied increasingly. Dan eventually cut the silence. "Hey, Phil? Do you wanna build a fort?"

Phil shrugged, a hard task with Dan's head on his shoulder. "Sure."

A fort turned out to be Phil's bed turned sideways with a sheet draped from its side to the floor. They were sat under it, telling stories ranging from embarrassing moments to close encounters with less innocent things thrown in the mix.

"So he leaned in really close and creepy like," Dan moved so that his face was but a few centimetres away from Phil's, his hands on either side of his thighs, "this, and he goes 'you wanna make out' and I was like 'I would if you weren't gross and creepy and your breath didn't smell like crusty asshole' and his face, Phil, I swear it was hilarious." They fell into laughter side by side, Phil's more of a relieved giggle having resisted the urge to make out with Dan when he was so close.

Or at least, he could have sworn that he hadn't made out with Dan, but then, he found himself with his lips on Dan's lips and his hands on Dan's waist, and no explanation as to how they'd gotten there. The back of Phil's brain reasoned that Dan must have done it, as he sure as hell didn't have the guts, but the rest of his brain and practically his entire body was a little too preoccupied to deal with such petty things as logic. Phil's mind was yelling Dan and his arms, which were resting at that very boy's hips, were screaming Dan, and his closed eyes were screaming Dan and his hair, which was scrunched in Dan's hands, was screaming it too. His fingers and his legs and his toes and his neck and every fiber of his being was yelling for more Dan.

Who was Phil to deny so much to so many? He pulled Dan closer to him using the hand on his hip so that he could feel the fabric of Dan's shirt and yes, it seemed, this was what his body had been tellings him. He could feel himself being pushed back against the leg of the bed and he kind of wished he had a softer carpet but he also kind of didn't care. He was aware of his hand moving down to rest at the side of Dan's neck, though his sober mind wouldn't have known to do that. It made everything better somehow, with the soft curve of Dan's cheek resting against the top of his palm and Dan's breath rolling past his hand.

"Fuck," murmured Dan, pressing his lips more forcefully against Phil's. Maybe, had Phil's hand not been playing with Dan's hair, nor Dan's with Phil's shirt, they may have heard the footsteps in the hallway. Had they not been distracted by each other's lips and each other's hair and each other as wholes, they may have heard the soft knock on the door. But alas.

"Hiya, Sport," whispered Phil's dad, as if there was any possibility that he would have been asleep, "what're you-?" but even with eyes intent upon believeing that their son was six, it was not hard to figure out what was going on. Two pairs of legs stuck out from under a sheet, two lumps he could only assume were heads having halted suspiciously close together.

Phil pulled the sheet guiltily away from his face, and he was very, very glad that Dan had set the bottle on the other side of his bed, out of sight from the door.

Mr. Lester was gifted the sight of two messy-haired, puffy-lipped boys looking as if they were equally terrified and ready to laugh their asses off. His eyes widened when he recognized the face of the second.

"I can't believe this. I can't. You, Phil I trusted you with the house for a few hours, and you find the nearest delinquent and make out with him? In my house?" His volume was rising steadily, and Phil didn't trust himself to speak.

Dan squirmed. "I think I'm just gonna..." he made a move as if to break for the door, or the window, or something, but Phil's dad held a hand up.

"Oh no you dont," he challenged, his eyes wide with ferocity, and what could only be defined as betrayal. He was yelling at his son, and yet he felt betrayed. "Phil, you let this boy manipulate you? You let this... this felon convince you to dirty my household?"

Phil felt his ears go red, but he spoke up nonetheless, because there was a line, and he had crossed it. "He didn't manipulate me, Dad. You're just too stuck in your own little bubble to realize that this is how I spin."

Phil's dad turned on Dan. "Get your foul, vile little..." Dan didn't have to be told twice. He grabbed his bag and bolted, brushing past a startled-looking Mrs. Lester on his way out the door.

He could hear the muffled yells even outside in the frog-croak night, and he didn't know whether to cry or pass out as he stumbled through the woods.

~

Phil awoke with a pounding headache and a strong urge to punch something in the throat. His father's yells came flodding back to him until it was one long, fluid chant of "abomination," and he couln't stand it anymore. He felt as if he were physically wading through his thoughts as he made his way to his bathroom. The white tablet in his palm shook with his hand in anger, and he knocked it back forcefully, hoping against hope that his headache would clear up soon.

He didn't trust himself to finish the board, and he didn't trust himself to text Dan. He knew he could trust himself to stare at words, so he did just that, trying his best to take in the novel that he was in the middle of for the fourth time.

When did his life get so chaotic?

He thought he knew the answer.

~

School on Monday was furtive glances to the left in both desire to and hope not to see Dan in the hallways. Phil didn't know whether he looked forward to gym or not. Did he want to see Dan? He didn't know.

Eventually, despite his anxiety, the time for PE arrived, and though their lockers were right next to each other, all either of them managed was "hey."

The class was spent with one of them staring at the other when he thought the other wasn't looking. The roles switched now and again. They'd managed to get all the way back to the locker rooms without saying another word to each other before Dan took action.

He looked around the locker room and walked around the row of red lockers where the rest of the class was dressing, beckoning Phil to follow. They turned around the corner where the other class generally changed, which was deserted. Dan breathed out a huff. "Look," he sighed, running a hand through his hair before placing it on the wall just above Phil's head, "I'm sorry for... doing what I did on Friday. I was drunk and I wasn't thinking and it was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it."

Phil cast his gaze, which had previously been trained on Dan's features, to the ground. Dan's close proximity to his face, the heat of the room, and the strong scent of cologne was making him dizzy, and Dan's words popped a bubble that had been raising in his stomach. Of course Dan hadn't meant it. Why he had thought anyone as attractive as Dan would like him was beyond Phil, and he felt like his throat was made of sand when he tried to speak.

"Oh," was all he managed, fighting the strong urge to lean in and kiss him here in the locker room. Why did Dan have to be so goddamn close? Didn't Dan know that his breath on Phil's face was making him want to explode?

"Unless you....?" Dan trailed off, inspecting Phil's face, seemingly realizing just how few air particles were separating him from Phil's lips.

"Oh fuck it," Phil breathed, closing the distance between him and Dan with a hand on the back of Dan's neck. Spontaneity was not generally Phil's strongsuit, but he was quite glad for it as Dan's lips worked against his, and there was a tongue in his mouth and a hand at his waist and neither belonged to him. He could hear the laughs of other boys just around the wall of lockers they were hidden behind, but he didn't care because Dan was pushing him against a locker and damn having a lock dig into his back had never been this favorable. He was faintly aware that the dull tin of his back hitting the nearly hollow lockers would warrant some attention from the people around the corner, but fuck it. Let them see that a hot boy was tugging lightly at his hair in a way that made him wish he hadn't gotten fully dressed, and let them see that Dan's hips were against his, he dared them. Phil pulled away to catch a breath and Dan kissed down his neck and when two boys came out from around the corner with ruffled hair and reddened lips, goddammit, the world could suspect whatever it wanted, but Phil was ecstatic.