Enid Blyton Adventure Series Slash!

[omar-love.livejournal.com]

(A/N) This is slash for Enid Blyton’s Adventure series (i.e. The Island of Adventure, The Castle of Adventure, The Valley of Adventure etc) which are the only Enid Blyton books I ever truly loved as a child, save for the Naughtiest Girl in school books.

Anyway, for some strange reason I have been mulling over writing this for some time, so here I go;

Philip/Jack slash.

R

 

......... 

Philip Mannering, age twenty-three and a bit, stood by the payphones in London Kings Cross, searching his pocket for change. “Blast!” he cried, finding nothing but lint and some rather old rabbit biscuits.

He was going home to visit his mother for Christmas and had planned to give the key to his flat to his neighbour, Charlie. In his flat were several animals; a cat, two rabbits, three rats and a hamster, that needed to be fed and adored. He would have taken them home with him but his sister, Dinah, had confirmed her own visit at the same time. It was only because of the fact that, as he had grown into an adult, he had learned to be tolerant of her fear of animals (though he still thought her ridiculous) that he had reluctantly agreed to leave them behind.

But, in his haste to catch the train after waking late, he had forgotten to give Charlie the key. Which was why he was trying to phone him now, to tell him how to pick the lock. But he had no change, only notes, and if he went to get change the train would leave without him.

“Blast, bugger, blast!” Philip picked up his bags and dashed for the train, sliding into a compartment just as the doors closed and the whistle blew.

There was no one else in the compartment he had chosen and, after the ticket collector had been, no one else came. Philip sighed in contentment as the scenery changed from the drab urban landscape to rolling green fields and thatched houses. He was studying to be a vet in London and, though he loved the subject, he often longed for the countryside, for the adventures he had had as a child.

That train of thought led him back to his sister; fiery, quick-tempered Dinah. He missed her more than he would ever admit to. She had always been the one he could play pranks on, the one who would give as good as he gave in a shouting match, who would say she hated him but mean that she loved him underneath.

She was getting married to a journalist named Freddie March. Philip had only met him once before and he had seemed a good sort; eternally patient and understanding, which was just what Dinah needed really. She was bringing him home this Christmas to meet their mother and Jack and Lucy-Ann were coming too.

Jack and Lucy-Ann Trent. The red haired, freckled brother and sister that Philip had befriended so many years ago. They had become a part of his family, welcomed by his mother and Bill with open arms. Dinah too, after an initial wariness, had warmed to them and loved them. Philip had gone to school with Jack and Dinah with Lucy-Ann but every summer they had met up and, along with Bill, had gone on the most dangerously wonderful adventures. Adventures that seemed like a dream now.

Philip had seen Lucy-Ann a few times in London. They had met for tea and she had taken him to several art exhibits, telling him more than he ever needed to know about painters and sculptors and things.

Jack he hadn’t seen, not for years. Not since they were nineteen. He thought about him often enough, remembered they way he looked, the way he smelled; the way his face would light up when he smiled. Jack had become a rather well known wildlife photographer, specialising (of course) in birds.

Every time Philip found one of Jack’s pictures in a magazine or newspaper he cut it out and stuck it on his wall, creating a shrine to Jack without there actually being a picture of Jack there.

Philip thought about the first time he had met him, when they were both fourteen. Kiki, Jack’s beloved talking parrot, had scared the life of him while he was lying beneath a tree, trying to study. He had met Lucy-Ann at the same time but it was Jack who had really captured his attention.

“Hallo Freckles,” he had said, referring to the millions of little freckles that dotted Jack’s pale skin.

“Hallo Tufty,” Jack had replied, referring to Philip’s unruly brown hair which would never, ever stop sticking up in a tuft, no matter how much he brushed it.

Five years later, when they were both nineteen, Kiki died. Bill, their mother and Dinah and Lucy-Ann had gone out to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet and would be staying overnight in the city. Philip and Jack had declined on account of the fact that they would rather have seen Hamlet or Titus Andronicus. They had spent the evening playing cards over the dining room table, their legs and feet tangled together beneath it.

When the clock struck ten Jack realised he hadn’t seen Kiki in over four hours. They hadn’t even heard her. Jack wandered off to his room and Philip had let him go, thinking that Kiki had probably got stuck inside a wardrobe or something, as usual. But when he heard Jack’s cry; agonised and heart-breaking, he ran up the stairs after him and found his friend standing over the terribly still body of his beloved parrot.

There had been no words, they weren’t needed. Perhaps no one else would have ever understood how much Jack had loved Kiki. Only Philip knew, as he had always known, and he took his friend in his arms. Jack trembled against him, his tears wetting Philip’s shirt.

“I feel like such an awful girl,” he sobbed, “But Kiki, Tufty…I…”

“It’s alright,” Philip said. “I understand.”

Later, when Jack had calmed down, they buried her in the back garden beneath a rose tree and discussed all the silly things she had ever done and how much they had loved her.

They hadn’t resumed their card game. They had simply sat together, curled up on the sofa. Jack’s face had been drawn and his eyes downcast and Philip had felt such a need to take away his pain. He hadn’t realised, when he moved closer, exactly what he was about to do. But suddenly he felt soft lips under his, the salt of tears and heard Jack’s quiet gasp.

“Philip!” his friend had said, startled green eyes searching his face. He could feel Jack’s heart beating under his hand, underneath his favourite navy jumper.

Philip had had no words, no way to explain what he had just done. They had always been close, had never shied away from touching each other. Friendly hugs, nudges. The sort of constant reassurance of the other person that was needed when you got into as many life threatening situations as they had. But it had never been a kiss before. It had never been…something else.

Philip had been ready to apologise when Jack had kissed him back, his lips firm and sure. It had then been Philip’s turn to gasp as Jack had pulled his shirt out of his trousers and put cold hands on his skin. Philip followed suit, still not quite connected to what was happening.

Somehow Philip’s shirt ended up on the floor along with Jack’s jumper and Jack’s mouth found his neck, his collarbone. With a surprising show of strength Jack had pulled Philip down to lie on his back beneath him. In that position they had stared at each other for what had seemed like years, breath coming in harsh, sharp pants. Then Jack had lifted his hand and placed it over the bulge in Philip’s trousers. Philip bucked up and cried out his friend’s name.

Jack had unzipped Philip’s fly and then his own, pulling off the rest of their clothes until they were both naked. Philip could remember being scared. Scared but sure that he wanted it. All his childhood fantasies of Jack marrying Dinah so they could really, truly be brothers had flown out of the window. He no longer wanted to only be jack’s brother, he wanted more…something he couldn’t yet articulate.

Jack had positioned himself just right and pressed down and Philip had pushed back and they had moved together. It had been too much and too little all at the same time. He had cried Jack’s name as he came and Jack had answered him seconds later. Then they had slept, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Philip had awoken first the next morning, when the cold light of day was streaming in from behind badly drawn curtains. He had gently disentangled himself, taken a shower, looked in the mirror and had what could be called a minor panic attack. Jack was his friend, his brother. He had been so distraught over Kiki that he hadn’t known what he was doing. Philip had initiated it. He had pushed his friend into it. When Jack woke up he would hate him. There had been nothing else to do. Philip had dressed, packed his bag and left, leaving Jack to tell of Kiki’s death alone.

Now Philip stared out of the window of the train, remembering that night and cringing at the thought of finally facing Jack again.

When the train arrived at his station and he saw Bill’s car waiting for him he took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face. “Hallo!” he cried, shoving his bags in the boot and clambering in the front seat. “Am I the last to arrive?”

Bill grinned at him, his face as familiar as Philip’s own hand.
“Everyone‘s there,” he confirmed. “Little Lucy-Ann even brought a male friend of her own.”

“What about Jack?” Philip asked before he could stop himself, “did he…bring anyone?”

“Some damn bird,” Bill growled while still smiling. “Doesn’t shut up I tell you!”

Philip’s heart fell to his boots, “Well…” he fumbled for words, “What’s her name?”

“Effy,” Bill answered. Philip was quiet after that. As they neared the house he felt his palms grow sweaty and he found himself reliving the same sort of nervousness he had felt going back to school after summer as a child. The worry that everything will have changed, that he would no longer fit in.

When they arrived Bill informed him that everyone was in the living room. Philip nodded and chose to take his bags up to his room and breathe for a moment before facing everyone.

While upstairs he went into his mother’s room and used the phone to call Charlie. When he was certain that his animals would not be neglected he went back to his own room, took off his jacket and stared moodily out the window.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and, before he could pretend he was getting changed and would be out momentarily, the door opened and Jack stepped in. There was a parrot on his shoulder.

“How many times have I told you to wipe your feet!” It squawked, flying off Jack’s shoulder and landing on the windowsill.

“Hallo Tufty,” Jack said, his voice hesitant. “That’s Effy, she doesn’t shut up you know.”

Philip felt relief flood through him and he smiled. “Hallo Freckles,” he said softly. Jack moved closer to where Philip sat at the edge of the bed.

“They sent me up here to tell you to hurry up,” the red haired man confided. His green eyes searched Philip’s face. “But I’d rather stay up here with you.”

“Jack…” Philip’s voice broke, he couldn’t read the expression in his friend’s eyes.

“Why did you run away?” Jack asked, “All these years Philip. Did you ever think or consider how I felt?”

Philip shook his head, “I though…I was afraid…it was wrong Jack.”

Jack nodded, “Wrong, right. It didn’t seem wrong to me. Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because it was you Philip. Since the moment we met nothing has felt wrong with you. Everything we’ve been through together, that time I had to hide with Gussy in the circus. I was so afraid but I knew, I knew you would come for me. I knew you would never leave me. I don’t care how the rest of the world views what we did. I only care how I see it and how you see it. Do you understand? I trust you to save my life, but you can’t trust me not to hate you after something we both wanted and were both responsible for!”

Philip took a deep breath, he understood that Jack was angry but the only thing his mind could focus on was that Jack had wanted it! Jack had never hated him and he had wasted so many years being cold and distant and pushing away the best friend he had ever had.

“Twit!” Effy squawked suddenly and Philip was inclined to agree with her. He reached up and slid his fingers behind Jack’s neck, tangling them in the soft hair at the nape.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered.

The look on Jack’s face softened and he allowed Philip to pull him down; further and further until their mouths met in a kiss. It was like coming home again and Philip didn’t understand how he could have ever lived without it, without Jack.

Then there was a knock at the door. “Hurry up!” Dinah called from the hallway, “Mother won’t serve tea until you two are at the table you know! And Philip if you start talking about how you put spiders in my shoes in front of Freddie I shall rip your hair out, I don’t care how old we are!”

Philip and Jack listened to her footsteps on the stairs and then, when they had faded, they smiled at each other. Their mouths meeting once more.

“Spiders in my shoes!” Effy squawked, sounding almost indignant.

Philip and Jack laughed; their misunderstanding, their argument, forgotten in an instant. Nothing, not even the space of four years, could part them.

Comments

[eva-rosen.livejournal.com]

I've never heard of those books, but I will nontheless comment to support the Omar-love, and let you know your icon is the hottest thing ever.

[(Anonymous)]

lol, thank you!

[lolabobs.livejournal.com]

I read this out of some desire to torture myself and readyto be apalled... instead I read a rather sweet story. I love that Jack's dream of a famous photographer of birds came true, and Phillip maintained his love of animals - and sweet that they could be together - but poor Kiki!!

[zoi-no-miko.livejournal.com]

This is one childhood memory I definitely DO NOT MIND having rule 34'd. :D

You're awesome. Do you have more?

[(Anonymous)]

You just fulfilled a secet little wish of mine ("wish" sounds better than "kink").

Anyway, loved it.