Phan Smut

Wear A Warning

"Really," Phil scoffed, marching up to him and snatching the gun out of his hands. "Please. Don't embarrass yourself." Dan's eyes were the size of dinner plates as Phil easily plucked the weapon from his hands, expertly disassembling it and packing it into his backpack in a matter of seconds.

Sirens echoed from the streets below. Phil mentally kicked himself.

"Come on," he said without looking back, striding to the window and throwing it open.

"What?" Dan asked, hysteria creeping into his tone.

Phil pulled out the gun again.

"Can't risk you turning me in," he said, shrugging easily as if he was stating the weather. Dan's eye grew wider, if that was even possible.

"Come on." Phil motioned with his gun again, this time towards the window. His heart was racing, the idea of being caught poking at the forefront of his mind. It was not a fun idea.

Dan remained rooted to the floor.

"Why should I go with you?" he asked warily, eying the weapon in Phil's hand. Phil growled.

"Because this is your flat, and you are going to be number one on the suspect list without an airtight alibi. I'm offering you your life, motherfucker, I'd suggest you take it."

Dan stepped slowly towards the window. Phil cocked the rifle. Dan jumped at the click, scurrying to the window and lifting his leg out, straddling the windowsill before dropping down to the fire escape. Phil followed right behind him, turning to close the window behind him.

The trip down the metal stairs of the fire escape was painfully slow for Phil, whose every sense was on high alert. Dan stumbled gracelessly down the metal platforms, Phil following with uncanny cat-like agility. Dan eventually dropped to the pavement, landing with a heavy thud. Phil dropped silently behind him, grabbing Dan's wrist and pulling him against the side of the building. A police car passed and Phil tensed, finally exhaling when it passed the side alley without a hint of pausing.

Phil could feel Dan's breathy whimpers, taste Dan's pulse pounding through his veins. He squeezed Dan's wrist, hard. A warning.

The two inched along the side of the building, Phil glancing furtively both ways before turning the corner onto the main road. He maneuvered their hands so their fingers were laced together, appearing as nothing more than two men walking together holding hands. He gripped Dan's hand tight, almost daring him to try and run off.

Phil's breathing finally retuned to some semblance of normal as the distance between him and Dan's flat widened. He fished his mobile out of his pocket, scrolling through his contacts before pressing dial.

Chris picked up on the third ring. "Phil, old buddy old pal." Phil could hear the seductively sarcastic smirk Chris was wearing through the phone. "What can I do for you sweetheart?"

"Hey Chris. The feds'll be around some time tomorrow. I was there from about ten till one, and I took home a tall, brown haired thing. Guy, hair cut like mine, brown eyes and dimples. Doesn't look a day over eighteen."

"I'm nineteen," Dan muttered under his breath, Phil gripping his hand tight in warning.

"I'll text you a picture," Phil said. Chris giggled.

"You? Phil Lester, are providing safety to a guy you don't know? I'm surprised, people really do change."

"Suck a muzzle," Phil muttered down the line. Dan stumbled a bit. Phil growled.