Phillip Gray | Phone Guy [AU] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
voiceinthephone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ridedatdiscostick2016-06-08 12:09 am
voiceinthephone) wrote in ridedatdiscostick2016-06-08 12:09 am
Panem PSL with leiche & weaintashes
Phil discovered there were a few perks to being a mentor in Panem: the main one currently being the bigger suite and the rather small but significant privacy measures. It was no secret that he remained close to friends and loved ones but these two were more than that. Maybe Celebrus was onto something when Gray began to allow Daryl and Jeremy come into his room. He claimed it was for counselling: neither had someone to talk to and they mutually knew each other. But they were getting closer than that, a sweet undercurrent of bonding. They were damaged, their worlds and their actions in Panem tore invisible scars onto their minds and bodies. Maybe Phil missed physical contact a lot more than he thought but he kept his own stirring feelings down for not one but both of his now-regular suitemates. Hell, the press had a field day today, Phil let the two stay as long as they wanted, and was that hand-holding?
"My place is your place," Gray chirped up as soon as the door closed, "Thought I couldn't lose them. Are you guys okay?"
"My place is your place," Gray chirped up as soon as the door closed, "Thought I couldn't lose them. Are you guys okay?"
let me know if I need to change anything!
Several of them had been getting uncomfortably close and one had nearly been pawing, grabbing at Jeremy, and that was a whole world of hell no. That was when Daryl had taken his friend by the arm as they made their way back to the Training Center and up to the suite they'd been sharing with Phil. Along the way his protective grip had gradually relaxed, his fingers moving from Jeremy's wrist to his hand, which he'd been unthinkingly holding for the last several minutes.
Being a Mentor hardly seemed any better or easier than life as a Tribute, and he was all too aware of that as his eyes trailed up Phil's form, his concern apparent. "You look like hell," he noted, but there was subtle affection behind his words — he genuinely cared for Phil in the same way he did for Jeremy, and wished he could ever truly protect both of them from the horrors of this world. Casting a sideways glance at Jeremy, he said, "They've been getting real aggressive out there. More'n usual..."
everything looks wonderful to me c:
After that, it all became much, much worse. Mentors and advisors would always tell him to just roll with it, pretend it was a secret but tease it every so often, because the audience just ate that shit up. Jeremy tries his best to go along with it, but it was hard to deal with swarms of reporters and photographers all at once, and much less so when they started grabbing and pulling at his arm to try and get "exclusive" interviews. He's pretty sure Daryl saw the panick-stricken look on his face and was about ready to deck the guy in the face.
Jeremy's more than relieved to be pulled away from the situation that quickly, before he could make things worse by freaking out in public. The journey back to the training center is a bit of a blur, and he doesn't realize he's holding onto Daryl's hand a little tighter than he should be until the suite door opens where Phil greets them as warmly as ever.
He's quiet, and still unsettled by the whole experience, but Phil's suite is a place he's grown fond of. It makes him feel safe and secure, and the outside world is shut out while he can just focus on breathing, relaxing, and the two men keeping him company. Even if it wasn't a larger and more private suite, he knows he'd feel the same wherever they'd be, as long as they were both with him. Words didn't have to be shared.
Still, it wasn't a pleasant experience just know, and Jeremy can't shake the feeling that he's still being followed and watched, ready to be dragged off at a moment's notice. His grip on Daryl's hand tightens and he steps closer between the two of them, eyes still trained on the door as if waiting for it to be knocked down at any moment.
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But this is not the time to dwell on this, not with how silent Jeremy was and how haggard Daryl looked after escaping the paparazzi. It's instinct how they could read each other's body language and immediately tell what was happening. The reliance on touch helped them even more as Phil reached out to trace his fingertips along Jeremy's jawline before turning to Daryl, welcoming him into this close moment just as much. He doesn't know what this is, but Phil has grown to need these two to be okay, and to be happy.
"But you guys are okay and you got out of there. They're getting desperate for ratings since the Arena's finale, they'll take what they can get. But you didn't hear it from me," the former manager exhaled a held breath, "But they know they can't get into this suite." He led them both towards the nearby couch, with a view of Panem that would've been beautiful if one were to be ignorant of the truth. One of the seats was destroyed with the many scratches and bites Foxy, Alby and Charlie ravaged upon it. It made the space lived in and shared between the three men in equal ways.
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And so rather than dropping Jeremy's hand in discomfort as he once might have, he gave a reassuring squeeze and kept hold of him while also reaching for Phil. A bit hesitantly but with clear intent, he touched Phil's shoulder and brushed his free hand along his arm, both offering and seeking reassurance from him as well. Oddly this shared moment put him in mind of reuniting wolves, the way they'd nuzzle and paw at packmates, just happy to be together again. Well... maybe it wasn't such an odd comparison after all. Without letting go of Jeremy, he gave a light tug on Phil's wrist, an unneeded invitation to join them on the couch.
This was the one place where they could let down their guards, take off their masks, and simply be themselves for a while. The tension was visibly melting from Daryl's stiff posture as he settled into the plush cushions, leaning his head back until he was staring at the ceiling and undoing the Stylists' efforts to tame his hair.
"M'just glad to be back here," he said, tilting his head to the side and giving Phil and Jeremy both a look heavy with meaning. Glad to be with you. He couldn't imagine how much more nightmarish life in Panem would be if he didn't have this sanctuary or these friends to help him regroup. To give him a reason to hold on and hope for a better future. They made it all worthwhile.
"I could pick up food. Drinks. Just gotta wait for the reporters to clear out. Either'a you want anything?" While it was technically Phil's suite, he wasn't expected to play host when they all shared the space. Daryl was always willing to do whatever he could to make things easier for the other two, and would far rather take care of things himself than treat the Avoxes like servants.
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But there's reassurance from both Daryl and Phil, with one hand giving his own a squeeze in return and another hand gently drawing his attention away from the door with a touch to his chin. Both startle him for a brief second, but when he turns to look at Phil, and then back at Daryl, it begins to settle in. Yeah, this is their safe haven, nothing and no one can get to them here.
Then, it feels like he's finally able to breathe. He lets himself be guided toward the couch, kicking his shoes off and keeping an eye out for little (and slightly bigger) critters running around along the way. One shoe's nearer the door and the other in the middle of the room, brightly polished and at least half a size too small, so he's glad to be rid of them and to be off his feet once they reach the couch. He sits between the two men, keeping close though he feels like an annoyance (he should've handled that situation better, instead of making Daryl drag him away like a child,) and starts working on tugging his tie loose with his free hand. He doesn't particularly want to let go of Daryl's until the other man does it first, and he's even more reluctant to when he mentions leaving.
"Don't--" Jeremy knows Daryl can handle idiot paparazzi, cameras in his face and asinine questions every other second, but that doesn't mean he should go back out there anyway and he ignores his tie for the time being. None of them need their personal lives pried into like that, rumours were circulating enough as it was. And he would just sit there worrying about him the entire time, just as he's sure Phil would as well. Phil worries about them both more than anyone. "D-Don't go. I'm n-not hungry."
It clicks right then and there when he glances at the thing again that his stylist gave him a grey-coloured tie just for that reason: sparking more rumours.
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Though he's going to have a few words with the District 1 Stylist: there's only one reason they would've chosen that color and it's not part of the spring season.
Phillip laid his head on Jeremy's shoulders while wandering fingertips sought Dixon's before he realized what he was doing. He was seeking them both, as if he had been longing for their touches too. "W-We can just stay here, just let the day melt away." He can reconcile with his feelings later, he needed this far more than resolution.
Wait, he actually said that out loud. Fantastic, might as well alienate them too but at least he was honest with himself.
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He was watching them both with a look of undisguised fondness, the corners of his eyes creasing with his tentative smile when he felt the brush of Phil's fingers. Hell, he was already holding Jeremy's hand, what was one more? Before Phil could withdraw, Daryl linked their fingers together, with Jeremy's, and gave both their hands a gentle squeeze. Trying to convey through his actions what he'd never been able to put into words, and far from being alienated.
"Least I get a break tomorrow. Back to the garage, gotta make sure Ellis hasn't burned the place down yet." His work as a mechanic definitely counted as a 'break' compared to what he'd had to spend the last day doing — he'd take getting filthy beneath the hood of a car over having to deal with sponsors and the press any day of the week. Unfortunately the press still had a presence within the garage, but it was nothing like how he and Jeremy had been hassled earlier. "What about you two?"
Having some idea of where Jeremy and Phil would be helped prevent him from brooding and worrying quite as much, plus he enjoyed spending his lunch breaks with them whenever possible... and not just because Phil seemed to like cooking for them. (But it was a bonus.)
There was soon the tell-tale pattering of several sets of paws across the carpet, Foxy and Alby's quick and light scampering distinct from Charlie's much heavier, lumbering gait. Daryl's smile only grew at the appearance of the trio and he held out his free hand, letting them each smell and lick him as much as they wanted as they crowded around their humans. Now their reunion was complete.
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He can't really explain it, but he feels safer when they're both here with him. Jeremy still doesn't know exactly how it happened - he'd met Daryl in the arenas but was certain he'd been an annoyance with his inexperience and frequent panicking, and his initial run-ins with Phil hadn't exactly gone over well. Even now that they're together and accustomed to each other, he doesn't know how exactly it got to this point, but he does know that this is where he'd much rather be. If the alternative was being alone in his room or surrounded by cameras all by himself, he certainly can't complain.
It's right about that moment when Jeremy realizes they're both holding his hand now. While there's that same sense of security at the thought, a different sort of uncertainty starts to well up in his chest - they're both holding his hand. That's when a hundred other thoughts start to run through his head, everything from what a gesture could possibly mean to why they were even bothering with him to feeling like he was getting in the way of something. The questions consume him to the point where he almost doesn't hear Daryl's question or their animal companions enter the room.
At least, not until Alby distracts him by hopping up onto his lap and surprises him (sudden foxes in his face haven't exactly been a good experience for him,) startled enough to let go of Daryl and Phil's hands for the moment. But the smaller white kit is just being playful and affectionate, nuzzling under Jeremy's chin and making happy noises, and Jeremy eventually relents with a sigh and starts scratching the animal's ears.
"Brat."
-- right, there was a question. "Uh ... n-not sure. Don't feel like goin' a-anywhere, though."
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Foxy is a little calmer than Alby, and waited for his master's attention to be on him before he could unleash his storm of squeaks and purring. They were a...a family, yes. Phil simply chuckled at the thought of a day off, his life was now a series of meetings to talk about human lives like statistics and death like a celebration of Snow's power.
"I'm pretty sure my District's reports haven't come in and I really doubt your friend would destroy a garage shop." No, but Phil underestimates what a bored Ellis can do if given enough tools and materials. "Come on, I hear stomachs growling and it's not just the pups."
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The moment may have passed, but the feeling of closeness remained as their furred companions let them know how neglected they'd been all day by demanding attention. Charlie climbed partway onto the couch and was burrowing his broad head underneath one of his owner's arms, and Daryl made sure to give Alby and Foxy each some good ear scratches too when he could, enjoying the sense of contentment. Come what may in this fucked up world, he hoped they could always find a way to stay together, critters and all.
"Hope you do get to avoid the lunacy out there, maybe catch up on sleep..." If it were possible. He knew how rare a restful night's sleep could be, much less being able to sleep in. "Either'a you want me to bring home lunch tomorrow, you let me know."
Charlie was undergoing some kind of identity crisis and seemed to think he was also a lap fox, attempting to squeeze himself onto Daryl's lap and succeeding only in pinning him to the couch and making it difficult to breathe.
"Then you don't know El," he mumbled mostly to himself, a lilt of humour in his voice. "What you got in mind? I can help," he offered, struggling for several moments before finally freeing himself from suffocation by dog-hug and stood up. Phil was easily the better cook, no question, but Daryl wasn't completely useless in a kitchen — he could follow directions well if nothing else. He shrugged out of his now thoroughly fur-coated suit jacket, loosened and tugged off his tie, and tossed them onto the back of a chair. His dress shoes, belt, and trousers were left in a trail down the hallway (over which the District 9 Stylists would undoubtedly have fits later) as he went to change into more comfortable clothes.
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Even that much does wonders. And their animal companions are certainly doing their best to liven up the atmosphere, with Alby doing everything in his power to burrow into Jeremy's dress coat and the other two following along to the kitchen where they would obviously be given their well-deserved treats. Jeremy finds he's content to simply sit and watch for a while, listening to Phil and Daryl chat amongst themselves about dinner and whatever else happened to come up, as well as Alby's chattering noises every time his ears were scratched just right.
It definitely helps distract from the fact that he'd been killed in the arenas not too long ago. Though while he knows it'll haunt his dreams, at least when he's here, it's not so bad. If he's startled awake in the middle of the night, or suddenly finding himself awake and wandering the middle of the halls like he's been known to do lately (a concern, but only to himself as he's never told anyone else about it,) reminding himself where he is and who's there with him helps him find his way back.
Eventually, he does decide to get up off the couch and let Alby perch on his shoulders, because there's a pile of clothes on the floor and they really shouldn't be there. Since Daryl's off getting changed and Phil's making himself busy in the kitchen, he shouldn't be so lazy himself. Jeremy stays fairly quiet in order to keep listening as he starts gathering everything up, the coat and tie on the chair first, then the laundry trail down the hallway where he crouches down - and practically bumps nose-first into Charlie, wondering what he's up to with a curious tail wag. It's only after the briefest of pauses that Jeremy picks up Daryl's discarded tie and puts it around the large dog's neck instead, loose enough to be tugged off should the mutt prefer.
"There," he says quietly, giving the dog a pat on his head, "v-very handsome."
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No, it's time to think about a sort-of happy present. He can either keep himself in the endless loop of self-loathing or make progress towards a better day for each of them. Heck, he's already got the ball rolling by letting both men know his true thoughts about their appearances.
Foxy was a little scamp, gently tugging at Daryl's pant legs and ruining what was probably a very expensive suit. Ah well, that's what the Stylists can work on.
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He's glad to be out of the room when Phil makes the comment about him and Jeremy, so neither can see his reaction. It's kind of funny — the media can fawn over his appearance and it doesn't mean a thing to him, but one offhand comment from his friend and he feels his face flooding with heat, like he's some kind of awkward teenager being complimented by his crush. That thought only makes it worse.
"You don't have to say that kinda stuff when it's just us, ain't no sponsors listening," he says gruffly in an attempt to mask his embarrassment, but it's a futile endeavour with how red his face still is when he reappears from the bedroom. Noticing a distinct lack of clothing on the floor as well as Charlie now proudly wearing his tie, he can't help but smile. "And you," he says, reaching to take the gathered clothing from Jeremy, "don't have to do that neither. But thanks."
Charlie gets another good rub between the ears from him before he touches Jeremy's shoulder, then the nape of his neck in a slightly apologetic gesture meant to offer comfort as well. Jeremy shouldn't feel obligated to pick up after him any more than the Avoxes should, though it's kind of him. With Foxy in tow still nibbling on the suit, Daryl deposits his discarded clothing on the bed to be sorted out later. He figures Charlie can keep the tie, maybe have a tug-o'-war with the foxes.
In the kitchen, he pulls himself up onto a clear counter space and takes a seat there, looking expectantly to Phil as though awaiting instruction. "You know I got asked today— of all the shit they could come up with, they asked whose hair I prefer petting. They're never gonna let me live that down..." Getting drunk at Crownings has perhaps not been the wisest decision, since it tends to lead to him becoming overly friendly with Phil and Jeremy both, but the disturbing ceremonies are too much to handle sober.
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Maybe Daryl's still a little drunk. And Phil ... just doesn't know when not to say something. Perfectly logical reasons there.
"... s-sorry." But Daryl's gone into the kitchen and already started talking to Phil, so his awkward apology is unheard in the otherwise empty hallway. He takes his time then to think about all the other, better ways that could've been handled - he could've told Daryl that he didn't mind helping out, or he could've teasingly scolded him about leaving laundry on the floor - but everything required a confidence he didn't have, and it's simply just his lot in life to be the quiet, helpless and annoying one everyone had to watch over.
It wasn't exactly helping that he was getting a headache already as is, and he hated complaining about something he was already accustomed to dealing with on a regular basis. But Alby approaches and paws at his pant leg, his usual sign of concern, and Jeremy lifts the white fox up in one arm as he joins the other two in the kitchen. He leans against the counter, using his free hand to rub at his forehead, only just catching the last bit of conversation between the two. Hair-petting ...?
"... Charlie's?"
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He turned his gaze towards Fitzgerald, his cheeks just a little red what came next, "I met Daryl during Tony Stark's crowning way back in a while, I think a year now. He thought my hair was, uh, pettable so it happened. The Capitolites took it as proof of...well, just don't look up the words pizza on an unsecured internet browser."
The pizza fornication fanfics have at least slowed down since then. Now what has replaced is best left to the imagination.
"...Just as my fainting...we're a fan writer's dream."
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"Thought he kinda looked like this guy my brother knew and decided I'd chat him up." A guy who had once made an extremely awkward proposition to him in exchange for cancelling the debt his brother owed, but that part's better left out of this story. Phil's nothing like him, looks aside. "Was shitfaced, mind you. Phil gave me water, told me to sit down, fussin' like a damn mother hen. And..."
The gesture he makes isn't the typical sort of uncoordinated, rough patting one might expect from a drunk. It's more along the lines of literal petting, as though he's petting an invisible cat; an innate gentleness that has always surprised the people who judge him by his looks alone.
"...That happened. Now they wanna know whose hair I like feelin' up more, Phil's or yours," he concludes, glancing up to eye Jeremy's hair with an appraising look that's meant in jest. It actually has occurred to him before, in another context — thoughts of pulling Jeremy in and holding him against his chest during one of those particularly bad episodes, and stroking his hair to calm him. Not knowing whether Jeremy would appreciate it or be insulted has prevented him from acting on those thoughts. "They seem to assume I spend my time here pettin' you guys. In one way or another," he says before covering his face with a hand, shoulders shaking a little with suppressed, embarrassed laughter.
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It's probably not the most appropriate time to be thinking of it, but he is very briefly reminded of a time when he was a much younger child asking his parents how they first met. He wasn't allowed to hear that story until much later, and had promptly been shooed off to his room because that question had apparently caused trouble. But there's still that feeling lingering there when he imagines what it must've been like, Daryl's hand affectionately brushing through Phil's hair at a fancy Capitolite party, that just seems like it's the sort of story someone tells someone else about special first meetings.
Jeremy almost asks why his name would even be brought up in the first place. He knows his memory is unreliable at best, but Daryl's never been like that with him, or at least he's fairly certain he'd remember something that important. Hell, the first time they met, he was in the middle of a panic attack in the Arena and doing everything imagineable to make a bad first impression. Where Phil's concerned, the guy's so worried about setting him off that it's like he's walking on eggshells around him, friendly and encouraging but keeping his distance.
He realizes he'd spoken a moment too late, regretting that single word slipping past him and sounding disappointed, of all things. Maybe it was quiet enough they didn't hear? Maybe he could explain with a little fib that he thought the story would've been funnier if he'd answered with one of the pets instead?
Bailing out ends up being the right response.
"... u-uhm, save some for m-me, yeah?" he gestures quickly to the dinner before his hand returns to his head, rubbing his temples. The headache is starting to get worse, so Jeremy takes it as his cue to step away for now. "I-I'm going to lay down f-for a bit."
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"Have you been taking your medicines?" he asked, a tell that he had been in chats with Jeremy's District 1 mentor. The man had a competitive streak the size of Texas and it was no secret that neither Phil and Daryl dislike his ways of treating his Tributes. It took a bribe and a bid for Phil to even get access to Jeremy's medical files, well worth what he had to do for his two close roommates. No, they were more than that.
Was this was love felt? Phone Guy had only had flings and short-lived disasters in his past, but this was different. This felt like gravity, all-encompassing and drawing them all in.
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"I got you," he says when it occurs to him there is something he can do, however small it may be. "Hold up a minute."
He heads back to the bedroom area to collect some pillows and blankets, carrying them out to the main room. Tossing off the throw pillows from the couch (to their pets' confusion, and they scamper over to investigate), he arranges the bedding into a more comfortable nest of sorts. It'll be easier to keep an eye on Jeremy out here. Kneeling to quickly put the final touches on the makeshift bed, he stays there on the floor once he's finished and looks back to Phil and Jeremy.
"Come lie down," he says as he pats the pillows, and catches Foxy in mid-leap before he can appropriate the nest for himself. He boops the fox's nose with his own in 'reprimand'. "What else would help? You sure it's a good idea to be takin' meds from the doctors here? Stuff they keep tryin' to feed me just makes me sick." It's difficult, knowing he's all but useless in these kinds of situations: taking care of people outside of wilderness survival, where his skills as a hunter and tracker serve no purpose. This is more Phil's area of expertise.
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Jeremy's not expecting Daryl to approach him as well, and once his hand's started running through his hair, he's at a loss and frozen in place. It's too much all at once, but he can't bring himself to pull away or ask them to stop. His eyes close, tense at first, and conflicted over whether he should tell them about about his medication, or just stay quiet, or push them away and not deal with it at all. All those thoughts run quickly through his head, but when he lifts a hand to start pushing away, he hesitates. The feeling of being crowded and cornered he was expecting isn't there, and instead there's a sense of comfort and care that he finds himself almost longing for. His headache doesn't seem so bad.
So it's understandable that he feels a little disappointed when it stops, looking around and wondering where Daryl went off to and why. He meets Phil's worried gaze for a moment, but ends up staring down at his feet after, still reluctant to say anything. They both worry about him enough, he didn't need to make that worse.
The blanket nest Daryl sets up is also completely unexpected, a surprise and a kind gesture that Jeremy feels wholly undeserving of. The two of them were so concerned about him, going out of their way to look after him and make sure he was okay and felt safe with them. The thought that they'd be much happier without him being such a burden crosses his mind, and he almost voices that thought, but he keeps it to himself as he makes his way over, a hand tugging on Phil's sleeve to bring him along. He only lets go after a long moment of staring at the pile of pillows and blankets set up for him, before crouching down and crawling in, tugging a blanket over his head and curling up as small as he could make himself. There's a miserable-sounding whimper that leaves him as he closes his eyes, before he quietly admits to it.
"... I s-stopped taking 'em. Couple w-weeks ago."
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"They were meant to stop the seizures and deal with the hallucinations but..." he spoke as he let Foxy have a round or two with a destroyed plush. Fat load of good the medicine did when Jeremy was faced with survival. But whatever self loathing was about come around, Phil tapered it with a caring smile towards the hunter. "Thank you for knowing the signs over at the Arena..." Daryl could help Jeremy in ways that Phil couldn't, in ways that mattered for the former Phone Guy.
Did their mutual affection, spanning three districts, undermine the purpose of the Hunger Games? Of course. Did Phil believe himself to be above his friends because he was out? Not at all. He felt human when he was around these two, as seen by the way he ran his fingertips along Jeremy's hair and the way he looked at Daryl.
"We'll just move onto therapy, you know? Can't rely on outsiders to, uh, do regular drops..." Choice words to Jeremy's mentor and escort will be unleashed tonight if Phil had his way.