Terror Twin [Def Leppard] #Wattys2016

XI: Stand Up, Kick Love Into Motion

December, 1984.

Def Leppard had released three more singles after the success of Photograph; them being Rock Of Ages in May, Foolin' in September, and Too Late For Love in November. Amongst the past year, they had conducted a tour as well, The "Pyromania World Tour", and had played 178 shows to mostly sold-out audiences. Phil had celebrated his birthday just a week or so ago, and Steve had his in April. And on top of all that, a more personal win for Phil: Steve had finally moved in.

You could almost say they were living the dream, but life at the top at the top ain't always what it seems.

You'd best be careful of what you dream.

It was a week before Christmas, and Phil was tearing his hair out, desperately scraping together money.

He had to buy Steve a new guitar.

There was no question about it, and Phil knew exactly what guitar to buy.

He'd seen it in the guitar shop near his home before. The instrument was almost as beautiful as Steve, which would compliment him nicely.

The Gibson EDS-1275, raised high on the wall above the others.

Phil felt the intense need to run his fingers across its flawless mahogany body; but not only was he afraid of being kicked out of the store, he was worried Steve would count it as cheating since the guitar was almost as sexy as Steve himself.

But nothing could ever beat out Steve in his eyes, not even the most beautiful guitar Phil had ever laid eyes on.

A shimmering, angelic alpine white double-necked electric guitar. It was hefty; weighing in at 13 pounds, but Phil knew Steve could handle it. After all, he was able to deal with Phil's entire weight clasped to his front.

One neck a six-string, the other twelve, with two gorgeous Rosewood fretboards.

Phil had to get it for Steve.

Even with their rising popularity (to Phil's surprise), scraping together £1700 was a struggle. It was a hell of a lot of pounds, and Phil knew he'd have to do it alone. Between paying the roadies, manager, the venues they played, and all the other shit, they were barely doing any better than they were before the tour.

It broke his heart not being able to tell Steve why he was out constantly, doing small temporary jobs for extra cash whenever possible, but he knew Steve would understand after.

Phil was leaving Steve alone more often, and finding him sober when he got home more often. It was strengthening his trust in his boyfriend.

If only Phil knew Steve was taking his drug in small doses; tiding himself over until the next sip, savoring each drop on his lips the same he'd do with Phil's kisses.

Steve was getting sloppier with hiding the evidence, but Phil simply didn't have time to check Steve's trails anymore. Six days until Christmas and Phil had £1650. He was so close to his goal he could already feel the guitar in his hands.

Steve was cutting back purposely. It was making him jittery, but he had to finish.

Sneaking into Joe's garage while Phil was out, he uncovered the canvas his friend had let him harbor there. He plopped down on the makeshift stool, taking out his paints and his brushes from his "guitar" case, the instrument left at home.

Steve was no real artist, but he felt he could get his point across to Phil better through a painting. He didn't even know what the painting was of; all he had was a sunset of oranges and lavenders and an lake of sorts on a portrait orientated canvas. He had started to add in trees around the lake yesterday, and continued to do so. With soft strokes of the brush, he created reflections in the water, adding in quiet ripples and smiling softly to himself. Phil would love a peaceful scene like this.

Steve painted the hours away, biting his lip and furrowing his brow.

The piece of art was done.

But something was missing.

He realized. Slowly, the blonde added two tiny silhouettes sitting next to the lake. He grinned at his work. Steve gently put the cover back over the stand, the smile unable to be wiped off his face.

Three days to Christmas.

Phil bundled up, his wallet shoved deep in his pocket. He made the trek down to the music store, feeling higher than the sky as he pushed the doors open.

"Hello, sir. May I help you with anything?" A worker grinned, and Phil glanced at his name tag. Jimmy.

"Yes, actually.." Phil grinned, pointing up at the wall full of guitars. "I'd like to buy that Gibson Double-Neck."

•

Phil trotted as quickly as he could to Joe's, knocking on the door twice.

"Hey, Phil. What's that box?" Joe questioned, motioning for him to come in.

"Steve's Christmas gift. I need a place to hide it. Can I leave it in the garage and pick it up tomorrow evening?" Phil asked quickly, relieving his arm by placing the guitar-filled box on the ground. At least the wallet in his pocket was lighter.

"Sure, mate. C'mon." Joe patted his guitarist on the back, walking back outside and opening up the garage.

Phil shivered, wishing he had a warmer coat. Or just Steve to cuddle into.

"Here, put it back there." Joe pointed to a corner in the back of the garage, where a shelf and some miscellaneous objects were placed. Phil did as his friend said, pausing at a tall stand, covered by a sheet. It almost looked like a canvas stand.

"What's this, Joe?" Phil questioned, tempted to lift the sheet and take a peek.

"Oh- oh! Don't touch that, it's my mother's - she'd be brassed." Joe quickly lied, completely forgetting he had let Steve keep his painting there.

Phil nodded, leaving the stand alone and placing his box down.

"Thanks so much, mate. You have no idea how much this means to me." Phil grinned.

"I could take a guess." Joe laughed, remembering when Steve said those exact words to him when he agreed to let him paint in the garage.

Phil waved goodbye to Joe, skipping off down the sidewalk. He took no time to enjoy the sights of his neighborhood, his only priority getting home to Steve.

Phil unlocked the door to their house with ease, strutting inside. He removed his jacket from his body, hanging it up on their coat rack. With a puzzled expression, he realized his boyfriend wasn't downstairs. Phil trotted upstairs, finding Steve sprawled out on the bed, naked spare for a pair of boxers.

"Oh, hey babe. Didn't think you'd be home so soon." Steve grinned, not moving from his spot on the bed.

"You knew, you cheeky bastard." Phil laughed, quickly stripping himself down to just his underwear and climbing onto the bed with his lover, situating himself above Steve, being greeted with a hungry kiss.