Possession (COMPLETED) (South Park) {DamienxPip}

Chapter 10| Damien

As soon as the door to Pip's house is open, he's dragging me inside. Past the living room and study, past the kitchen and straight upstairs, presumingly to the bathroom. My thoughts are correct as he opens the door, almost pushing me inside as he searches through the cabinet above the sink, tap running.

I point to the tap while leaning on the bath. "That's a waste of water."

"And phone chargers are a waste of electricity, but you don't seem to complain." He replies, taking out cotton wool pads.

"That's actually.. quite an intelligent and logical comeback Phillip."

Pip smiles, cheeks dusting pink at the compliment. "Come here."

As I approach Pip, I decide to hide the fact that I don't actually need caring for. Not because I don't want it, oh how I do want Pip to care for me, it's that I literally don't need it.

I could easily heal myself, easily fix the broken skin without any need of tender loving care. But I want the TLC, so I'll get it.

Pip gently takes my left hand, his hold soft, gentle. He lets the warm water splash against the cuts, and the feel is oddly satisfying. Then he wipes the cuts with the cotton pad, cleaning them of blood and drying them of water.

He continues with the other hand, which isn't as badly cut up.

Throughout the whole ordeal, I can't help but want to hit someone again. The only reason being to have Pip hold and care for me like he is right now.

"Are you okay now?" Pip asks, wiping my knuckles one last time before binning the cotton pad. He turns off the tap and looks at me.

"I was okay before hand," I begin, holding out my hands before me and staring at the now clean cuts. "But now you've been giving me some TLC, I feel even better."

Pip scoffs, and flushes. I grin, then decide to heal myself. I stand beside Pip, nudging him to look at my hands. He does, and then I begin to heal. The skin closes, becomes a thin, white scar before returning to the natural colour of my human form.

"What.." Pip's eyebrows knit in confusion.

"I can heal Pip. I'm a demon." I smirk at the blond as he groans in annoyance, nudging me.

"You let me wash your cuts for no reason." He complains, throwing his hands up and walking out of the room.

I laugh and follow him, deciding to not voice the fact that I wanted him to wash the cuts.

"Of course I did Pip. I thought you knew me by now." I follow him into his bedroom as he falls down onto his bed.

"Because a demon is so predictable." Pip replies. I sit down beside him.

"One can be if you know them enough." 

"Well I certainly don't know you enough then," Pip pauses, and locks eyes with me. Only then I notice how close we're sat, with our thighs pressed against one and another's. "Usually I would've instantly classed that as a good thing, but now I'm not so sure."

"How flattering." I smile at Pip, wanting so badly to lean forward and brush my lips against his.

It would be such a perfect moment, just to whisper as I cup his cheek 'would it be predictable for me to kiss you?' Yet, I don't want to push my luck. It's as if Pip is finally liking me, and I really don't want to mess that up.

"You know," Pip begins, placing his hand on my knee. My gaze darts to his hand, then back to his eyes. "I actually had fun today." He smiles, brightly. A dazzlingly smile which only makes me smile back.

****

The next day, I possess Pip once more. However, I try to behave myself. I've grown so attached to Phillip Pirrup, that I don't want to ruin his life anymore. Technically, I never did in the first place, but now I almost want to act as he would.

Although I can't help myself from talking back to a few teachers. A few teachers that either laughed at my comeback, or simply sent me outside the room with no other consequence.

Currently, I'm leant against a random locker. I'm bored. There's practically no one interesting around, only Gregory who keeps staring at me. Maybe it's because he's hardcore crushing on Pip, or maybe I'm leaning against his locker?

Not sure who's locker it is, so it could be a possibility.

I decide to shoot Gregory a flirty smile, and he blushes a deep red. There's someone beside him, a male with bags under his eyes, dirt streaked skin and short brown hair. The brunette elbows Gregory, a scowl on his face.

Still bored, I decide to walk over to the two.

As soon as I'm beside Gregory, I touch his arms. My fingertips stroke the material of his orange shirt, and he shivers.

"Hello Gregory," I greet, and spare the brunette only a glance. He raises his eyebrow, but I ignore him. "I noticed your staring."

"Who said I was staring?" Gregory replies, noticeably uncomfortable.

"No one said anyzing," his friend, who has an extremely thick French accent, "zey didn't have to. You're staring is painfully obvious."

"He's correct," I nod towards the Frenchman. Then, lean closer to Gregory. So close, my lips almost brush his ear. "Not that I'm complaining."

Then, slowly but surely, I press my lips to his rouged cheek.

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Cough