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silver-wield · 5 years ago

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Okay, as requested a few days ago, a Cloud and Aerith analysis. I feel like I've spent a lot of time in chapter 8/9 today lol

Ok, spoiler warning for ppl who haven’t played – do I still need to do this? Eh ok, (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it’s gonna be reasonably long.

Also, this is one person’s interpretation of the scene, so if you disagree that’s cool and we’ll agree to disagree.

You’re also gonna have to excuse the janky quality on some of the screens, I’m grabbing them from Youtube and it’s frustrating af trying to get the exact moment I want.

Other analyses if anyone’s interested.

Shinra HQ vision scene (Cloti/plot analysis)

Chapter 3 (Cloti reblog)

Tifa character analysis

Aerith Resolution (plot analysis/theory – I should probably update this since I’ve had other ideas since then)

Train graveyard (not really an analysis, but I got some sweet screenshots of Cloti)

Clotiscrew tunnel analysis

Cloti reunion analysis

The Promise Analysis

Andrea’s approval (Cloti ask response)

Leslie analysis (not mine, but a good read)

Cloti action touching

Aerti friendship analysis

Cloti body language chapter 3

Cloti healthy disagreement

Cloti post heliboss battle (chapter 15)

Clerith playground scene

Cloti body language plate fall

Cloud and Barret friendship

Resolution scene analysis (A)

Barret character analysis (chapter 13)

Cloud character analysis (Honey Bee Inn)

Cloud character analysis (Barret's death)

Now, strap in and enjoy the ride.

Recap time!

Okay, our delightful heroine (I will rein in the sarcasm, but Aerith aggs me when Cloud says no and she ignores him. No means no.) and our moody af hero have finally got done with the flowery side quests, kiddos, Rude and the giant hands of crash crash boom oops there's an invisible wall there minigame trip through sector 6 to reach sector 7.

Aerith says “let's take a break.”

Cloud says, “No.”

They take a break anyway.

(I've already done the slide analysis, link above)

Back down from the slide and it's time to go. Aerith opens up the underground link into sector 7 and we're venturing into awkward goodbyes.

So, we're starting with Aerith being chipper and cute with the quips. Standard stuff. It's possible she's feeling regretful they're parting, but I've said plenty of times that of everyone in this, Aerith has the best poker face. There's very few times she lets that mask slip and lets us see what she's really feeling and it's usually in times of intense stress. This isn't stressful, although she was feeling down a few moments ago while talking about Zack, so maybe that'll make her a little easier to read. For now, though, she's fronting like a boss.

Hmm interesting. He's definitely thoughtful here. So, I'm gonna have to put together some possibilities.

He's clearly mellowed his attitude towards her – he was proper stroppy at her house the day before, shouting and so on – so this isn't negative. We could say he started feeling more positive towards her through their interactions over the day or maybe when he saw the whole Rude bit and realised she's not quite what he first thought. Or it might have been when he saw her looking downcast about not high fiving or it could've been their chat on the slide that finally thawed him out towards her.

And Aerith's the same. Her smile falters just a bit and she can't meet his eye. Maybe she knows they have no reason to meet again or that her mother told him not to see her. We don't know for sure, but it's possible, otherwise why is she disappointed? She could expect to see him again. They could make plans. It could be meta!Aerith knowing that Cloud is probably better off not getting to know her.

Eugh dammit. Does anyone know how hard it is to analyse people's motives when you can't see their faces clearly? I bet this was on purpose, thanks Square.

I mean, having to go by the above data I've mentioned, they could both be feeling the same lingering regret intuitively. You know like how you just get the sense how someone's feeling? That.

Their poses are identical, and coupled with the slightly awkward intonation on “so” I'd look at this and say this comes across like a couple of teenagers who kinda like each other and don't know how to take the next step. You know, that kind of immature I have no idea what I'm doing with my life kinda deal. That's not to say it's romantic, especially not from Cloud. He's an awkward introvert. Aerith has no social skills. They're not friends and up until five minutes ago Cloud was annoyed af at her. That'd make for an awkward goodbye.

Aerith laughs, Cloud doesn't, and she moves aside so he can leave. Looks like the moment’s over.

Before going, Cloud turns back to ask if Aerith can get home ok. This looks like polite concern, which I'd expect considering they just came through an area full of monsters, mech and bandits. If Cloud wasn't concerned, I'd call him a douchebag. His eyes widen a little as he speaks, but it's not that same kind of expression he pulls whenever we're suspecting a visit from real!Cloud. This is SOLDIER!Cloud asking.

(I've said that typically Cloud's eyes go very wide as a hint that his real self is reacting to things, but widening eyes on their own do not indicate real!Cloud. It's something about the way he does it that shows it's not quite right for the SOLDIER persona we usually see. I can't explain it properly, but it's likely something the devs have done to his microexpressions on purpose to differentiate between the two and without knowing exactly what I can't put a pin in it. All I can say is when it looks like real!Cloud is expressing himself and when it isn't because there’s a difference that I’ve picked up on.)

This is flirting. Plain and simple. Head tilted, little smile, crinkling eyes. She's amused and teasing him in a flirtatious manner and her dialogue backs that up, although at the same time the tone she puts it in also sounds quite matter of fact, like she's genuinely asking what if she wasn't ok? That likely does appeal to the protective SOLDIER side of Cloud. He wants to be known as the hero. Still not romantic.

That's what I like to call a shit-fuck-bollocks moment. The realisation he should take her back home and make sure she's safe, but then he's also got to get back to sector 7, and this is all SOLDIER!Cloud's debate. There's no sign of real!Cloud and there's a quick decisive result that he should do the right thing, which is why he says he’ll take her home.

This is nothing like in the honey bee inn later when you see the clear back and forth of his eyes darting around as he argues with real!Cloud about dancing to get Andrea's approval.

And Aerith laughs again because I think she's aware how ridiculous it is that he'll walk her back when he needs to get home. She was teasing the entire time, but it looks like it went over Cloud's head – colour me unsurprised.

I mean, there's no romantic undertone to her expression here. It's genuine amusement and I'd definitely say friendship towards Cloud.

Ah the image that certain people hang their hat on. Let's get this one done.

Aerith says she has a backup route for emergencies that's safer than the one they used. You can hear Cloud start to speak—- ask a question because the sound is a “W” -- then cuts himself off and smiles. That smile is a mix of bemused and amused.

For anyone who doesn't have a stupidly large vocabulary and thinks those two are the same thing:

Bemused

adjective: puzzled, confused, or bewildered.

Amused

adjective: finding something funny or entertaining.

Cloud's bemused because back at the start of the collapsed expressway he literally asked if there was a better way and she avoided answering. So, he's caught her in a lie and what can he do about it? Nothing. That's why he's all "of course there's a safer route".

And then we're back in control and moving onto the next part of the game.

Conclusion:

Well, they're awkward. Both of them. Cloud is an introvert with mental issues and Aerith has no social skills and a terrible personality flaw in which she bosses everyone around and doesn't listen.

I wouldn't say they're friends, more like comrades. Cloud's still very resistant to her company even after she helps him save Tifa.

#final fantasy 7 remake spoilers #final fantasy 7 remake analysis #Cloud Strife #Aerith Gainsborough #Character analysis

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lamentalia · 5 years ago

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Amelia - Ch 6. Pt.5

“First, we need to make sure no one will find out that you’re a molly.” He takes a deep breath. “This is going to be uncomfortable but… please trust me.”

--- Several Moments Later ---

Well. Lovino was not wrong, this is pretty, dang uncomfortable!

Amelia looks down at her new disguise and wonders if it will really be as convincing as Lovino says. As she waits for Lovino to get a change of clothes and finish his next, last-minute travel preparations in the Sanctuary, she feels like a bird sitting with all its feathers puffed up as far as they’ll go.

Lovino seemed to know what he was doing though. Kinda like he’s done this before, and more than once. In fact, when he had methodically begun to strip off his cloak, belts, sash, and shirt, it hardly registered as an unusual occurrence until he stood before her, bare chested, and politely asked if she would please take her coat off.

Yeah. She can’t put a pin on why exactly, but that’s when it started getting weird.

Having divested her coat, Lovino explained that he would wrap his wide sash around her torso to hide the curves on her body: tightly across her breast, loose around her waist. He then began to add layers. Her bulky coat followed by his blousy shirt, belted low on her hips. Then his cloak and pauldrons to top it off.

Amelia has no idea what she looks like in this bulky, restrictive get up, so she’ll just have to trust in Lovino’s sense, like he said.

The weirdest and most embarrassing characteristic of this disguise, though—and she hadn’t had the nerve to mention it in the moment— is that she most definitely smells like a travel-worn Lovino.

Amelia is no stranger to the smell of sweat and musk. In fact, she’s surprised to find that Lovino’s clothes don’t smell half as bad as she’d expected them to. What throws her is how extraordinarily… well— intimate a thing it is to be smothered in the scent of another cat so thoroughly. The only reason Amelia didn’t question this decision was that bringing attention to it would have just mortified the two of them into dust, right where they stood. She could tell by the way Lovino determinedly refused to look her in the eyes even once. Besides as far as disguises go, you really can’t do better than covering up your scent like this. Lovino’s choice to use his traveled-in clothes was deliberate.

Eugh. This is going to take some getting used to.

“Ah. I do not envy you, Amelia.” Says a cool voice with a hint of amusement from Amelia’s back. “But Lovino really is quite good at scheming up covert operations on the fly. I can hardly recognize you.”

Distracted as Amelia is by her predicament, Natalya had managed to sneak right up behind her, but Amelia can only turn to her and send her a pitiful look.

Natalya returns a very small, but reassuring smile and takes Amelia’s hands in hers.

“If anyone can do this, I believe you can do it.” Natalya says simply. Amelia feels her heart bursting with hope again, suddenly, and a prickle of tears threatens the corners of her eyes.

“Yeah??” Amelia asks, greedy for more reassurance.

Natalya nods once and placidly raises her hands to the top of her head. Amelia watches as Natalya pulls apart her customary bow and pulls the long, pale ribbon from her long, pale hair. She then lowers the hood covering Amelia’s head and ties the ribbon gently around her neck before carefully tucking it into the cloak under Lovino’s pauldrons.

“Sorry to burden you further, but I wanted to give you token of good luck.” Natalya says, returning the hood of Lovino’s cloak to its position over Amelia’s head. “I hope it will remind you of us.”

“Oh! It’s no burden at all, Nat! Thank you!” Amelia takes Natalya’s hands again and nods fervently. “I will definitely remember! And I’ll come to visit after I find Mattie!”

“Thank you.” Natalya repeats.

The sound of approaching footsteps catches Natalya’s attention. She turns her head smoothly to face source.

Lovino has returned! Sporting a fresh travel-pack and a fresh change of clothes, Lovino stands beside Amelia and gives Natalya a strange look. A look like he wouldn’t have expected her to be here.

“Natalya. Everything okay?” Lovino asks. He pulls a pair of dark, leather gloves out of his back pocket and begins to put them on. Wow, though, they are nicely made.

“Yes, of course.” Natalya nods coolly, as she often does. “I am only saying goodbye.”

Natalya faces Amelia again and squeezes her hands one last time before letting go.

“Katya sends her regards, as well. Travel safely.” Natalya says with a small wave. She then makes her way back toward the Sanctuary. Amelia waves and hollers back.

“Thanks, Nat! See ya!”

Smiling, Amelia turns her full attention back to Lovino. He has an eyebrow raised briefly, but his face settles into something a little more like relief. Perhaps to see that Amelia’s mood has improved.

“I see you’ve made friends.” He’s finished donning his second glove and leans a forearm against the rather fancily crafted hilt of a sword she’d never seen him wearing before. It’s quite long and has a very thin blade by the looks of its matching scabbard.

Now that she’s looking, Amelia can see that the two-tone leather jacket he’s changed into is also of fine quality and tailored to fit him perfectly. Having been the primary crafter of clothing back home, Amelia knows her way around textiles and a needle well enough, and the stitching and seamlines are very impressive! Is this the kind of nice stuff you can find in Achena? Lovino’s old clothes that she’s wearing aren’t necessarily shabby in comparison, but they certainly don’t stand out the way he does now.

Lovino notices Amelia checking out his new style and looks away grimacing.

“My other shirt is covered in mud… I ran out of options.”

“Haha! No, dude, I’m just impressed!” Amelia says. She laughs again and claps Lovino’s back amiably. It’s great that the awkwardness and tension from earlier have dissipated and Amelia’s keen to keep it that way. “Ready-- ??”

Lovino emits a strangled noise and stumbles forward from the force of her whacks. Oops.

“Ah-- ! …Haha! Sorry, Lovi. Sometimes I forget to hold back!”

★ END Ch. 6 ★

A/N:

What, what? What is this?? An update??

HI FOLKS. I had Lamentalia on the backburner for a while cause. Well. 2020. But in light of some good news, I managed to get some words down! Did a little reviewing (against my own advice), some more plotting, and even drew a thing that I’ll post up momentarily!

Speaking of which, Hetalia 2021, what??

#lametalia #aph romano #aph america #fem!america #nyo america #romerica #hetalia fanfic #hetalia au #hetalia

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feferipeixes · 5 years ago

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Jay’s Brother (4/?)

Jay has been working in the cobalt mines her entire life. Against all odds, she’s still alive when so many others have fallen. It’s been decades since she’s had anyone she could call family. And then, out of nowhere, a demon shows up and says he’s her brother.

Naturally, she’s upset.

Chapter 4: A Nice Day (link to chapter 1) (2) (3)

Thanks to the incredible @toothpastecanyon for beta reading this!

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

“Good morning Jay!”

“Ack!” Jay yelped. The shout had brought her right out of her dream, and she jolted upright in surprise. Her head slammed into something hard and she yelped again. “What’s happening?”

“Oh no, I’m sorry!” replied a familiar voice. “I didn’t mean to, I just…”

The voice dissolved into wordless gibbering. Jay grabbed blindly at her night table for her glasses, not taking her eyes off the blurry blob in front of her. When she put them on, she was startled to find Alcor crouching over her.

“Alcor, what are you doing?” she yelled. “This is not appropriate!”

“I was just waking you up! Heh, my sister -- well, my first sister -- used to do this to me all the time.” He stared off into the distance with a nostalgic look on his face, as if he’d forgotten that he was pinning someone to a bed with his body. “She’d glue googly-eyes to her chin and pretend there was an upside-down face on her face. It was… okay it wasn’t that funny, but in hindsight -”

“Alcor. This is weird and I don’t like it. Get off of me.”

“O-okay. Sorry!” He crawled off the bed and stood in the corner. “I’ll keep that in mind! No climbing on top of Jay in bed. Got it! What’s next?”

Jay rubbed her eyes. She glanced at the clock and groaned. “It’s only 9th trentile! Why did you wake me up?”

He drew farther back at the tone of her voice, and started fidgeting with the drawstring on the curtains. “Oh, uh, is that too early? Did you want to sleep longer?”

She sighed. “Yes. Yes, it’s too early. I don’t usually get up for another whole trentile. I’ve been losing so much sleep lately, and now I’m not going to be able to get back to sleep.”

He livened up. “No, wait, I can help with that actually! Just give me a second, uhh…”

Jay raised an eyebrow as Alcor attempted to untangle his claws from the drawstring he’d been playing with. There was a soft snip, and the string fell to the floor. He met her eyes and winced in embarrassment. “I’ll fix that. Uhh…” He snapped his fingers, and the drawstring lifted off the floor and repaired itself. “See? Good as new!”

“Alcor, what are you -”

He snapped again, much louder this time, louder than she thought it should be possible to snap. The room seemed to vibrate in tune with the sound, and then everything froze. The clock stopped blinking, the tree outside stopped shaking, the curtain drawstring stopped swaying. Then the very color drained out of the room like paint on a heat plate, leaving her and Alcor alone in a still, monochrome world.

“What the?” Jay squeaked. She pulled the covers off and leapt out of bed. “What’s going on? What did you do?”

“Welcome to the Mindscape!” Alcor did a little bow, then looked up at her with a big smile on his face. “This is kind of where I live. It’s complicated.”

“The Mindscape? What’s the big setup? I thought you were going to help me sleep!”

He gestured at the bed. “You are asleep!”

Jay turned around and gasped. There she was, lying in bed, motionless and colorless just like the rest of the world. “That’s… me!” she babbled. “But I’m right here! How the squick is this happening? Is this some of your magic man trickery? Is this an It’s a Wonderful Life situation?”

Alcor gaped at her. “How in the everloving hell do you know what It’s A Wonderful Life is?”

“Because it’s propaganda and the mining company makes us watch it every year?” At the flabbergasted look on his face, she crossed her arms and continued. “It’s about a man who wants to quit his job, but a ghost shows him visions of an alternate future where the entire planet’s devolved into anarchy because of his lost labor. It’s complete garbage but every year it makes me more and more hopeful that the anarchy part really will happen.”

“Okay, I can’t even start to explain how wrong that is, so I’m just going to move on. You’re dreaming right now. You’re really still lying in bed, we’re just in your mind right now.”

Jay’s mouth flapped open and shut wordlessly while his gleeful smile creased down into something more like concern. Eventually, she managed to get out, “You did this?”

“Yeah. I’m a dream demon. We’re really good at sleep magic. They don’t call me The Dreambender for nothing!” He chuckled like that was meaningful in any way. “But uh… yeah. This means we can chat and you can still get some rest. It’s a win-win!”

“Listen, Alcor…”

“Yeah?” he asked, perking up like an excited kitten.

She shook her head. “Is this… normal? Did you do this with your sister -- your other sister I mean?”

“Oh, yeah! We’d hang out while she was asleep all the time. Dreams are the best! There are way fewer limits to my powers here in the Mindscape -- and that’s really saying something! Not that I’m bragging or anything, although I guess I sort of am. I’ve got some great stories, seriously, like...”

Jay watched him pace around the room, waving his arms around emphatically, and pulling out of nowhere objects that carried neither familiarity nor meaning to her. Feeling her legs wobble, she sat back down on the bed, and bumped up against something soft but heavy. She looked over and flinched when she realized she was sitting on her own sleeping body. A picture of her in the real world, dreaming up this whole imaginary world.

She was still kind of freaked out by that. She wasn’t used to knowing that she was in a dream. Somehow, knowing only made the entire experience feel more real. Or maybe that feeling was all Alcor’s doing. She glanced back at the strange man dancing around in her mind -- pulling different voices as he spoke to himself, flapping his otherworldly wings, gnawing those razor sharp teeth on a cube with colored stickers on the sides -- and she held her head in her hands. What was going on? Was this really going to work?

“Can we talk about this a minute?” she asked.

Alcor paused in the middle of his story, and a creepy talking owl-like toy fell out of his hands. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“This is all just… a little much.” She sighed, and patted on the bed for him to sit down. “I haven’t had any family for a long time. I haven’t had any fun in a long time. I want to give this a try but I’m not sure I can just jump right into having magical goofabouts. I don’t- I don’t even really know you yet.”

“Oh, oh no, of course,” Alcor replied, eyes widening in understanding. He waved his hand, and the objects he’d been playing with vanished, although the room stayed monochrome, and he skipped over to sit beside her on the bed. “I’m sorry, I got carried away. I’m just so excited to have a sister again!”

“Heh. Yeah.” Jay heard decades-old screaming in her ear, saw the poison bubbling up and over the edges of the vat, felt the horrible chill on her skin when she realized there wasn’t enough of him left for them to bury. “I… I know the feeling. It’d be nice to have a brother again.”

Alcor nodded, and snapped his fingers again. The world seemed to warp strangely around her, and before she knew it, she was lying in bed. She opened her eyes and the room was in color again. Alcor was sitting in the same place as before, flashing her a massive smile. She couldn’t help but marvel how such a monstrous face could seem so innocent and cheerful.

“So,” he said, extending his hand to help her out of bed. “What should we do?”

Jay blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light, and then took his hand. “I don’t know. I could show you my daily routine, but it’s pretty boring and stupid and awful.” On her feet now, she shook her head to try to wake herself up more. “We could grab breakfast together before work. Do… do demons eat?”

“Oh yeah, we -- I -- eat all sorts of things.” His expression twisted, and that smile no longer seemed so playful. “But I’ll be fine, I don’t need to eat. I can just hang out with you. We’ll have a nice day!”

“Uh, okay. If you count working in a mine for ten trentiles to be ‘nice’.”

He waved her off. “Psshaw, we’ll make it fun. How bad could it be?”

---

“Jayyyyyyy, I’m sooooooo borrrrrrrrrreddddddddd.”

“Butts!” Jay shouted, dropping her axe in surprise. “Alcor, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been here the whole time,” Alcor replied calmly, as if a large, heavy object hadn’t just hit the ground loudly directly next to him.

“You’ve what?”

“Jay, are you alright?” called a voice from down the tunnel. “It sounds like something fell! Do you need some help?”

Jay’s mind raced at the thought of someone finding her talking to Alcor when she was supposed to be working. He looked like he was about to respond, so she clapped her hand to his mouth before he had the chance. “It’s fine, I just dropped my axe!” she yelled back. “Guess I’m just old -- haha! Always dropping things!”

There was a grunt. “Well, try to be more careful, I guess.”

Jay listened for the echoing footsteps indicating that the person had walked away, and then sighed. “If they catch me goofing off, I’ll get in trouble!” she hissed at Alcor. “What are you even -- eugh!” She cut herself off with a squeal as she felt something wet and slimy slide across her hand. She pulled it away from his face to see a transparent, yellow substance left behind, and a mischievous smile on the demon’s face. “Did you just lick my hand?”

“Sure did,” he said, clearly pleased with himself. “My sister used to do that to me all the time.”

“Really. Did your sister ever strangle you for almost getting her fired?”

“Yeah, she was working at a grocery store in college and I thought she wasn’t being fairly compensated, so I may have given her manager some weirdly specific nightmares, and -”

Jay facepalmed. “Missing! The! Point! What are you doing here? I thought you decided not to come to work with me!”

“No, I turned invisible and followed you in. We’re hanging out! Although I’ve gotta say that this is pretty awful. Is this all you do all day?”

“Yes. I work and I work and then I get paid and then I go home.” She stooped over to pick up her axe. “You see this? It’s a quantum axe. I use it to drill that stuff over there.” She pointed at the blue veins coating the cave wall. “That’s cobalt. It’s really important but I have no idea why. All that matters is that they’ll give me money for doing this.” She raised the axe above her head and pressed a button on its side. A laser shot out of it and blasted a chunk of the wall away without damaging the cobalt, a small amount of which fell into a basket on the floor. “Any questions?”

Alcor rested his chin on his hand and leaned forward to study the cobalt. Jay watched him with narrowed eyes, and then a moment later gurgled aloud when she realized that his feet weren’t touching the ground -- he simply floated forward as if gravity had no impact on him at all. It shouldn’t have surprised her after everything else she’d seen him do -- plus, his hat seemed to permanently sit a few inches above his head -- but it was going to take her a while to get used to him just casually performing feats of magic she’d only ever dreamed possible.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “You’re not getting paid enough to do this. Not because it’s hard or anything, because there’s a ton of health risks involved. It’s wild that you’re still alive after so many years of breathing in this stuff. Now come on,” he added, tugging on her arm, “let’s get out of here.”

Jay’s forehead creased in frustration. “Alcor. Are you listening to me? I. Need. To. Work.”

“This work is horrible. Come ditch it with me and we’ll get ice cream.”

“First of all, I have no idea what ice cream is. Second of all, if I leave now I’ll lose my job! Which would mean no money, and thus no food, and shortly after that no life!”

Alcor’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you don’t know what ice cream is. This is a travesty. We have to fix that.”

“You seriously need to leave right now -”

“No, Jay, listen.” He lifted his right hand, and a blue flame appeared in the palm. “Let’s make a deal.”

Jay jumped back -- her legs and back a symphony of cracks and pops. “What?”

“This work you have to do is terrible and it’s going to kill you,” he said, waving his hand around, trailing little blue wisps through the air. “But if you can promise to get me some tasty treats later, I can snap my fingers and all of your work for the day will be done. And, I’ll make it so that no one notices you’re missing.”

She eyed the flame in his hand suspiciously. There it was again, that casual magic like it was so second-nature to him that he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I- I don’t understand. Are you expecting me to know what you’re talking about?”

“I told you before. I can’t just do magic for you for free. You have to give me something in exchange. All I’m asking for is something sweet, like candy! That’s not unreasonable, right? Just agree to give me a few candy bars later, and then we shake hands to seal the deal -” (he reached out to her and the flame grew to cover his entire hand) “and voila! A fun day off with your new brother! How does that sound?”

“It sounds too good to be true,” she said carefully. “You can really do that? I’ll still get paid?”

“Yep!” He smiled wide, and it was such a warm and welcoming smile that it brought her back to when her real family would smile at her like that. “So, are you coming or not?”

Jay stared at the flame in his hand, then at the cobalt rubble in the bucket on the ground. She looked between the job that was working her to death, and the odd magic man who said he was her brother, and suddenly it didn’t seem like that difficult a decision to make.

“Okay.” She grabbed his hand and felt the flame spread to cover hers. She was expecting it to hurt, but to her surprise it felt like nothing more than a soft tickle. “Let’s get out of here.”

His grin grew even wider, starting to stretch the bounds of what a human face should be able to do. With his free hand, he snapped his fingers, and a large section of cave wall was carved out before her eyes, leaving behind a massive deposit of cobalt in the basket. She boggled at the sight, and he stuck his tongue out playfully in response.

“Now, hold on,” he said. “This part makes most people nauseous the first time.”

Before she could react, he jerked his hand back forcefully like when he had pulled her out of bed. This time, instead of ending up on her feet, she found herself wrenched out of space into a dark void. The cave fell away behind her, and in front of her was Alcor, soaring on wings that seemed much larger than they were only a minute ago. She felt perfectly still yet at the same time like she was moving at hyperspeed. It was like being in the Mindscape again, except her every sense was being overstimulated -- her heart was pounding, her ears were ringing, her hair was standing on end. She felt like she was going to scream.

And then it was over, and the two of them were standing on a brick road behind a building.

“Tada!” Alcor said, letting go of her hand and doing a little spin. “We’re here! How do you feel?”

Jay, bent over with her arms wrapped around her stomach, gave her best impression of a chuckle. “Oh, I’m just dandy. Never better, in fact.”

“Really? You’re looking a little green.”

Jay forced herself upright and pouted. “Not at all. Don’t know why anyone would have trouble with that.”

Alcor shrugged. “Well, I guess I usually meet up with Mizar when they’re pretty young. You’re tough, I like that.”

“Thanks.” Something he’d said prodded at her brain, but she ignored it. “Anyway, where are we?”

“Ooh, well, I haven’t been here before myself, but I consulted the ol’ omniscience and found a town that’s holding a fair today! We’ll make a day of it -- that’ll be fun, right? Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy to find a place that wasn’t dark and depressing. Don’t let the outfit fool you, I’m not obsessed with darkness just because I’m a demon, seriously…”

“Wait wait wait,” Jay cut in. “Where are we? I thought we were just going outside.”

“Nope! We’re about halfway across the Earth from your hometown.”

She stared at him blankly. “What’s the Earth?”

“Oh, duh. Sorry, that’s the planet I’m from. I meant we’re halfway across Bezsinova.” A shadow passed over his face, and he suddenly seemed very far away. “You’d think I’d have gotten used to the fact that humans have spread themselves across the universe by this point but nope, it keeps slipping through the cracks.”

“Uh, okay,” she responded, raising an eyebrow. When he didn’t respond -- only continued to stare into space -- she waved a hand in front of his face. “United Life to Alcor, hello! Are we still doing this or what?”

Alcor shook his head, and the gleeful expression returned. “Yeah. Come on!”

He took her hand and led her around the building. On the other side was a row of shops with fanciful window displays and which didn’t look like they weren’t about to fall into bankruptcy. There were plenty of people bustling about, even though it was a work day. Further down the road, she could see tents and stands where people in colorful outfits were dancing or handing out toys.

It was the strangest thing Jay had ever seen, and she’d spent a significant time in the library reading about outer space. At least out in space things made sense. Here, it didn’t make sense that these people all seemed so… happy. Maybe it was only because she herself hadn’t felt happy in a very long time.

And as Alcor led her down the road, it seemed like everyone else thought she was the strangest thing they’d ever seen. Every face Jay passed turned to stare at her. Children pointed. Adults cut off mid-sentence and gasped.

“Wow, tough crowd,” Alcor said, elbowing her and chuckling. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”

“They’re looking at me,” Jay replied flatly. She glanced at her reflection in a store window, at the wrinkles lining her skin. “They’ve never seen anyone this old before.”

Alcor cocked his head. “Really? You don’t think it’s the guy with the wings and the floating hat?” He shrugged and pulled her into a tent. “Anyway, come on. You’ve gotta try this game. They had something like this back when I was a kid and trust me, it’s totally not a rip off.”

He pulled a strange-looking coin out of nowhere and slapped it down onto the counter. Jay looked around while he bickered with the worker about “what is and isn’t considered legal currency in these parts”. Behind the counter were a few stacks of plastic cups arranged into pyramids. There were assorted plush toys of varying sizes lining the walls and ceiling. A small child hugging а plush deer stared at her until an adult picked them up and hurried out of the tent, possibly to avoid getting hit by the excitedly flapping wings of the strange man arguing at the counter.

“Okay, that guy’s being a dink,” Alcor said, turning around, “but I got him to see reason. Let’s do this!” He handed her a ball and pointed at the pile of cups. “You’re strong, I’ve seen you lift that axe at work. Throw the ball at that stack of cups. If you knock them all down in one hit, you’ll win a prize!”

Jay’s arm was already aching from work that morning. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea…”

“Come onnnnnn,” Alcor whined. He grabbed a blue toy from the wall. “You’ve gotta win me this… plush hunk of cobalt…? What is wrong with your planet?” He shook his head and put the toy back, then hunched over and started banging his fists on the counter. “Do it. Do it. Do it for me, Alcor. Win me the toy, Jay. Come on. Do it. Doitdoitdoit!”

Jay scowled. “Alright, alright, if it’ll make you quit your yapping.” He stood up straight with a big smile, and mimed zipping his lips shut. She looked at the ball and sighed. “Okay. Here goes.”

Taking a deep breath, she wound her arm back a few times, then threw the ball forward as hard as she could. It missed the stack of cups completely, instead bouncing off a pole, then off the ground, then out of the tent where it hit another pole, ricocheted back into the tent, bounced off the counter, and finally smacked Alcor right in the face.

“Augh, my eye!” Alcor howled in pain, curling up and clutching his hands over his face.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Jay yelped, panicking. She’d only been hanging out with her new brother for half a day and she’d already messed things up. “Alcor, are you okay?”

He didn’t respond at first -- only the labored wheezing of his breaths let her know that he hadn’t passed out. Then he unfolded and smiled at her again, a ball-shaped indent left in his face. “That. Was. Awesome!” he giggled. “Whoo, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt something like that! Pain is hilarious!”

Jay gaped at him. “What’s… going on here?”

“Heh, I’m fine, I’m fine. There’s not much that can actually hurt me.” He rubbed his face some more, and his ears started wiggling. “So most of the time it’s just fun! Does it look swollen?”

“It, uh, not really. Kind of the opposite actually.”

“Drat.” He closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and made a noise like he was straining himself to reach something on a high shelf. When he reopened his eyes, his right eye was dark and puffy. “How about now?”

Jay snorted. “Y-yeah, that’s much better. You're... ridiculous. And you’ve got a really weird array of powers.”

“And you’ve got great upper body strength!”

She punched him playfully on the shoulder, which made him grunt and murmur, “seriously ow.” He rubbed his arm and looked up at her with such a goofy look on his face that she burst into laughter.

“That was fun,” she said, and he smiled so wide she could almost swear his jaw was going to fall off. “What’s next?”

---

“You don’t have strawberry? You don’t have pistachio? What do you have? Mint chocolate chip? No?!?!”

Jay stared at the glass case in front of her. It was filled with buckets of something that looked like if someone took milk and made it solid. It didn’t look entirely appealing, but she could tell from the way Alcor was pounding his fists on the counter in frustration that it meant a lot to him.

“Okay, Jay,” he said, poking her on the shoulder. “They don’t have as much variety as I’d hoped but you should still pick out a flavor.”

“Uh…” The weird names in front of the buckets meant absolutely nothing to her. “Vanilla, I guess?”

“Classic. Okay,” he said, turning back to the person behind the counter who at this point seemed very intent on getting Alcor to go away, “can we also get a vanilla cone? Thank you!”

After a minute, Alcor handed her a brown cone that was filled with the white stuff from the bucket. He led her to a table in the store, sat down, and watched her with an expectant expression on his face. “Go ahead, try it! Oh, and don’t bite it or anything -- you’ve gotta lick it off.”

Cautiously, she did as he said and gave her food a lick. Her eyes widened, and she continued until half of it was gone. “Oh, zoinks, this is delicious!”

“That,” he replied with a mischievous grin, “is ice cream. It’s the best! I was so heartbroken when you said you’d never had it before.” He started ravenously licking away at his own ice cream, which was dark brown and covered in small multicolored circles, and she noticed that his tongue wasn’t forked like it has been when he healed her wound.

“You were right. I was missing out.” She scarfed down the rest of her cone and gave him a big smile. “This was really fun. I had a great day hanging out with you.”

“Me too! I didn’t expect you to be so good at competitive boat rowing. We really showed those pesky kids who’s boss!”

She chuckled. “Yeah, and everyone kept letting us skip ahead in lines because I’m so old.” She paused to try to reconcile what she knew about Alcor with the giggling person with ice cream on his face that she could see in front of her. “I guess if anyone knew how old you were, we’d never have to wait in line again.”

He stuck his tongue out. “Yeah, but they could also pass out. And if a single person on your planet knew what a demon was, they might try to arrest us too.”

“They really didn’t like demons where you come from, huh?”

“Nope, but to be fair, they had a pretty good reason. Demons are awful.”

His eyes glazed over, and Jay frowned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

He waved her off. “That’s alright. I’m used to it. I’m just happy you had a good time today. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a sister to hang out with.”

“Yeah. I never even dreamed I’d have a brother again. Today’s been so much better than any dream I’ve had in a long time.”

Alcor opened his mouth and let out a loud, warbling noise that Jay was pretty sure meant he was happy. She covered her ears in faux annoyance, but gave him another friendly punch on the shoulder when he stopped.

“So,” he said after a pause. “I got you to try ice cream. And I got some too, so our deal is fulfilled. I think it’s been a pretty good day. Want me to take you home now?”

Jay bit her lip. Oh yeah. She’d forgotten she had to go back home eventually -- back to a place that seemed so overwhelmingly despondent and futile now that she’d had a few trentiles of freedom from it. For once, she’d gotten to spend time in Prima’s rays instead of in a mine all day. For once, she’d been able to breathe freely without that awful tickle in the back of her throat from inhaling cobalt particles. For the first time in decades, she’d had fun, and she wanted to figure out something -- anything -- they could do to push off going home a little longer.

And then the perfect thing occurred to her.

“Come on,” she said, getting up and pulling Alcor out of the shop by his arm.

He yelped and almost fell over, but his legs caught up pretty quickly. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” They’d been at the fair for a long time, and Prima was starting to set over the horizon. There were far fewer people around than there had been when they’d arrived, although most of the tents seemed to be waiting for the star to completely set before they packed up and left. At the end of the row of tents, Jay spotted it. The first game they’d done that day -- the ball toss.

“What are you doing?” Alcor asked. “We already did this -”

“Give me a coin,” she said, cutting him off. “I’m gonna win you that toy. No brother of mine is going home toyless today.”

Wordlessly, he handed her a coin. She slapped it onto the counter, and the carnival worker glared at her. “You only get one chance,” they said, handing her a ball. “Then you’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. She flashed Alcor a thumbs up, before winding her arm up again to throw. “And a-one and a-two and a-three!”

Jay threw the ball, and knocked down an entire stack of cups. The ball then bounced off of a pole into the ground, then sprung up, got intercepted and deflected in mid-air by one of Alcor’s flapping wings, bounced off the counter itself, and finally hit the carnival worker smack in the head.

Alcor gasped as the worker passed out behind the counter. It took Jay a moment to even parse what had happened, but by that time, Alcor had rushed past her, jumped over the counter, and picked up the carnival worker.

“They’re okay,” Alcor said. “They’re gonna wake up with a killer headache, but they’ll be fine. Did you do that on purpose?”

“Honest to betsy, I swear I didn’t! It was a goof-up!” She stared at her hands, curling and uncurling her fingers. “I just wanted to win that toy.”

“My uncle taught me that the secret to these games was to aim for the carnie's head, and take the prize when they’re unconscious. Looks like that really works!” His chuckle fell away at Jay’s horrified expression. “Look, it’s fine. The worker is fine, and you won the toy. Nothing to worry about!”

Jay watched Alcor prop the worker up against the counter and pat them on their head. She smiled, and reached up to grab a large plush hunk of cobalt. When Alcor crossed the counter, she shoved it into his arms and elbowed him in the gut.

“Right, you jokester. Nothing to worry about.” Her smile faded as she thought about going back to her job. She watched Alcor hug the toy she’d won him before accidentally slicing it open with his claws, and she cleared her throat. “Hey. This was really fun. If it’s not too forward -- heck, I’ve never gained a sibling before -- do you think… we could hang out again tomorrow?”

Alcor dropped the now-shredded toy, and hugged Jay tight. “Course we can, as long as you get me more sugary treats tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” she said, and even though Prima had just dipped below the horizon, the world felt brighter. “I think I can handle that.”

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #mizar #jay rhysti-du #reincarnation #space arc #fic #my stuff #long post #jay's brother

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danfanciesphil · 7 years ago

Text

Give Me A Try (New Chapter)

Gay Instagram Model/Bartender Phan AU Part 6

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

(Read on Ao3)

The bar is empty, but the lights are swirling across the dancefloor. Britney Spears’ ‘Everytime’ is playing at a low volume, her deep, rough voice sliding chills up Dan’s bare arms. He is naked, and sprawled across the bar counter.

His face is turned towards the dancefloor, marvelling at how clean the floor is, for once. Somewhere at his navel, lips are pressing to his skin, over and over, like sweet butterflies landing on his abdomen. Dan sighs in contentment, eyes slipping closed. He opens them just in time to see Phil move over him, done with kissing his stomach now.

The shock of seeing Phil above him, also naked, their bodies pressed together on the bar, sends Dan into a flurry of panic. How did this happen? He is not prepared, not skilled enough to please such an immensity of a person. His hands ghost, trembling, over Phil’s shoulders, too reverent to actually touch.

“Do you want me?” Phil asks, absurdly.

All Dan can do is nod, vigorously, trying hard to convey how desperately he does without words. Phil sends him a wicked grin in return, sending Dan’s heart into palpitations. He sees Phil’s lips moving towards his, can feel the slide of Phil’s hips against his as their bodies move. He tries to ready himself for the onslaught of Phil’s mouth, but knows it will eviscerate him totally, the moment it happens. There’s no way to prepare.

He shuts his eyes, waiting for the missile of Phil’s kiss to strike him, when a voice permeates the air, grating and cold. “Knew he’d be shit in bed.”

Phil snaps his head to the side, annoyed. Dan turns too, blearily, to see Charlie Hickory standing in the shadows, sipping a Rainforest Cocktail with a nauseated expression, his lips blue from the liquid. He’s watching them with scorn, sneering in distaste. Dan tries to struggle from beneath Phil, to cover himself from Charlie’s stare, but he can barely move. Phil’s whole body covers him, and while it’s incredible, it’s also restrictive.

“Charlie, be nice,” Phil warns, then turns back to Dan. “Sorry about him.”

“What’s he doing here?” Dan hisses, feeling his cheeks heat.

“Oh, he’s just here to chill,” Phil shrugs, like it’s normal. “Ignore him.”

Dan tries to let Phil’s words placate him, but he can feel Charlie’s eyes burrowing into them, scrutinising their every movement. Phil tries to kiss him again, but Dan squirms from it, mortified by the third party watching.

“Can you get him to leave?”

Phil frowns. “Just pretend he’s not there.”

Dan wriggles again, glancing over at Charlie, who waggles his fingers. “Not sure I can do that.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I knew he wouldn’t have the balls,” Charlie sighs, tossing the Rainforest over his shoulder so that it smashes behind him. Dan tuts, knowing he’ll be the one that has to clean that up. Charlie stalks over to the bar then, seizing Phil’s face in his hands. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

He smashes his mouth into Phil’s, kissing fiercely, and the bar beneath Dan seems to fall away, he feels punched by the sight happening right above him, wants to drag Charlie off of Phil by his stupid quiff. Charlie pulls off, slightly breathless, and turns to Dan, still pinned to the bar by Phil on top of him.

“Give it up, Dan,” Charlie says, condescendingly. “He’s mine.”

At that second, Dan jerks awake, anguished and filled with fury. Charlie’s smug face lingers, ghostlike, in front of him. It churns his stomach, making him queasy and breathless. A minute or so passes, eyes closed against the sickness roiling within him as Charlie, and the bar, and the rest of the weird fever dream gently ebbs away. It’s around then that Dan realises his nausea is actually a product of what feels like a raging hangover, if his pounding head, raw throat, and bitter tongue are any indication.

He peels open his eyes, rather reluctantly. For a wild, slightly scary moment, he has no idea where he is. Then, the zig-zag blanket draped over his body catches his eye, and the feeling of immense comfort sparks a faint memory in his brain.

He’s been on this couch before.

Dan looks around for his phone, heart already thrumming as he tries to recall what happened last night, what day it is, and whether he needs to apologise to Phil or anyone else for his behaviour. He thinks today is Sunday, which is good, because the bar is closed. He’d never forgive himself for this hangover if he had to work later.

He finds his phone in his shoe beside the sofa, almost dead, but flooded with notifications. Too bleary to read any of them, Dan just checks the time.

It’s 11am.

“Crap,” Dan mutters, running a hand through his hair.

��Morning to you too, sunshine,” Phil says from a nearby armchair, making Dan leap out of his skin.

His eyes flick to the other man, who is slumped in the chair, nursing what looks like a much-needed coffee. His voice is rough and gravelly, his chest bare. He’s wearing pyjama pants with emojis on them, and slippers that look like loaves of bread.

“Morning,” Dan says. His voice comes out like sandpaper. “Um, what… what happened last night?”

Phil flicks his gaze across to Dan, eyebrow quirking. A smile spreads across his mouth. “You don’t remember?”

Remnants of memory snag across Dan’s mind: downing a shot as Tyler urged him on, dancing to ‘London Bridge’ by Fergie on the dancefloor (which, incidentally, Tyler refers to as Dan’s ‘stripper song’), Phil filming him with his phone…

“Bits and pieces,” Dan says unsurely. “Did I get drunk during my shift?”

Phil barks a laugh. “You could say that.”

“Ugh,” Dan grunts, rubbing his sleep-caked eyes. “Such a responsible adult. I’m blaming Tyler for allowing me to do that.”

“Might wanna check Instagram,” Phil says; he sounds suspiciously nonchalant about the suggestion. He pockets his phone, stands up, and heads for the kitchen beyond. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

As soon as Phil leaves, the chill of his words hangs in the air. Dan’s gaze falls, trepidatious, to the phone in his lap. It seems like a primed bomb, suddenly. He reaches for it with caution, not really wanting to know.

The moment he clicks onto Instagram, the notifications pour out in a stream, attacking him in their thousands. He goes to his own profile, and his jaw falls to the floor.

Followers 53,289

Dan stares at the number, uncomprehending. His notifications page is swarming with new followers, liking his photos, commenting beneath them.

He wonders, as he scrolls through them, whether he’s been hacked. Or if he drunkenly purchased a load of those fake follow accounts in a vain attempt to impress Phil. Then, he starts reading what these new followers are writing.

Who is he omg

Think I’ve found a new fave twink account :o

He’s cuuuute!

He might be cuter than Charlie…

The last comment snags his attention, mostly because of the name. Charlie.

“Any news?”

Dan starts, head whipping towards Phil so fast that it makes the room spin on its axis. “I… what’s going on?”

Phil titters, placing a cup of coffee in front of Dan. He reaches for it at once, taking a huge, scalding gulp. Eugh, he really needs to tell Phil at some point that he hates sugar in his coffee.

“I tagged you in my Instagram story last night,” Phil tells him. His tone is hesitant, as if he’s unsure whether this is good or bad news to relay. “People… reacted well to you.”

“I have fifty-three thousand followers as of this morning,” Dan says, blankly. He still can’t wrap his head around it.

“Congrats?” Phil offers, sinking back into his chair.

Dan places his coffee down, swallowing thickly, and types Phil’s name into the Instagram search bar. He goes to AmazingPhil’s account, thumb hovering over his icon, around which a think pink line pulsates, indicating that Phil has, indeed, updated his story.

He presses the icon.

Immediately, he recognises the bar where Phil is filming. It’s the bar Dan has worked at for the past four years of his life, Habanero, and it’s crammed with patrons, as it always is on a Saturday night. Nicki Minaj’s ‘Super Bass’ blares from the background as Phil films the crowds, ending with a close up of his own face, wide-eyed as he sips a cocktail Dan recognises as a ‘Habenero Hallmark’. It has a dash of chilli oil in it, after its namesake, which explains Phil’s subsequent wince and splutter after he takes a sip.

“Wait, what are you- are you watching my story?” Phil - the present-day Phil - asks from his chair, already standing up. Dan nods, barely hearing him. “Scoot over, I wanna watch with you.”

Dan turns to him, surprised, but obediently shuffles further into the sofa cushions in order to let Phil squeeze in next to him. To his mild despair, Phil slips his legs under the blanket as well, pressed against Dan’s. At least Phil has those stupid emoji pyjama pants on, Dan thinks, mercifully. Were he forced to be skin on skin with Phil beneath the blanket, he might self combust.

He turns back to his phone screen with some difficulty. Now, the Phil of last night is at the bar, filming a cocktail being prepared. With a sinking dread, Dan realises he already recognises the hands on-screen, but then the camera pans upwards, and Dan’s damp forehead is on show, his brow furrowed as he concentrates.

From off-camera, Phil shouts, “guys, this is Dan! He’s the best bartender in the world, and he’s making me a new cocktail ‘cause he’s a hero, and I didn’t like the last one.”

Dan watches his own face crinkle into a smile as he hears Phil’s compliment. He vaguely remembers this moment; he hadn’t been drunk at this point, he’s sure. Phil’s sweet words had felt like warm, melted honey drizzling down his chest.

He watches himself stare up at Phil’s face, off-screen, with a gooeyness that seems nauseatingly transparent. Is this why all those people followed him? Because he is obviously, hilariously smitten with someone so far out of his league?

“Phil’s a wimp and can’t handle a teeny bit of chilli,” Dan tells the camera, eyes glinting with mischief. Dan, on the sofa, huffs a laugh at his own cheeky response. Both the Phil beside him, and the Phil behind the camera, laugh as well, making Dan’s chest swell with pride.

“I’d like to see you try it, Dan,” off-screen-Phil shoots back, making the Dan on camera narrow his eyes.

“You’re on, Lester.”

He abandons the cocktail he’s making, wipes his hands on his jeans and grabs six shot glasses from underneath the bar. Ohhh, sofa-Dan realises, the memory washing over him as it unfolds on screen. Suddenly his hangover is starting to make a heck of a lot more sense.

He watches, dismayed, as he pours the Habenero-chilli infused tequila into the six shot glasses, and, as Phil films him, systematically downs each one.

“What the fuck was I thinking?” Dan asks aloud.

Phil points to a person Dan hadn’t noticed, behind Dan on the screen. It’s vaguely recognisable as Tyler, but only vaguely, as he’s moving about too much to be sure. He’s cheering loudly, chanting Dan’s name, and getting the customers around the bar to do the same.

A loud, triumphant cry rises from the crowd as Dan throws the last shot down, his hands shooting into the air. Phil is cheering too, and Dan cringes at the gleeful, smashed look on his own dumb face.

“Holy shit,” Dan breathes, shaking his head. “No wonder it feels like someone shoved a red hot poker down my throat. Those chilli shots are lethal.”

“I can’t believe you did six,” Phil says, beside him, chuckling. “It was seriously impressive.”

The story jumps to further along in the night, and Dan is obviously trashed. He’s on his knees on the bar, hips gyrating as he pours a cocktail into a martini glass, his hair curled at the temples with sweat, his light grey shirt covered in glitter. Phil is still filming him, laughing. There are several captions adorning the video that Phil must have added whilst a little tipsy himself:

Brighton’s Best Bartender XD

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

GO FOLLOW @DANISNOTONFIRE !!!

The hearts, in particular, make Dan flush bright red. “Oh my fucking God.”

He wants to click off the video, and tries to do just that, but Phil stops him, grabbing his phone and laughing. “Nooo, let’s watch the rest!”

“Phil, this is humiliating!”

“Tyler thought it was a great idea. He reckoned me filming you would get the bar loads of new customers.”

“Oh my God, you’ve teamed up with Tyler of all people,” Dan groans, burying his face in Phil’s shoulder. “I’m doomed.”

It occurs to him, belatedly, that Phil’s shoulder is bare, and that it’s probably very inappropriate for him to be doing this, so he jerks away, blushing more. For some reason, this seems to make Phil sling an arm around him, pulling him close, and bringing the phone back in front of his nose.

“Just watch this last bit,” Phil wheedles, squeezing Dan to his chest.

Obviously, Dan is helpless to speak in this position, let alone refuse, so he just nods, frozen as the steady, even beat of Phil’s heart resounds in his ears.

The story jumps to the next bit, which is a photo of he and Phil, their faces pressed against each other, cheek to cheek. Phil has covered the photo with pulsating pink hearts. Dan has a huge smile on his face, and his eyes squeezed shut. He does not remember this photo being taken, and it kills him a little inside. He looks so blissfully happy, smushed against his favourite person in the world.

Phil hums a fond little noise, then clicks to the next image. It’s a boomerang, of Phil and Dan slurping down a single Rainforest cocktail, one stripey straw each.

“Fuck,” Dan breathes, wincing. “No wonder I feel so horrendous. How much did I drink?”

“After you lit those shots on fire, everyone started buying you drinks,” Phil tells him.

“I lit shots on fire?!” Dan exclaims. “That’s against the safety regulations, I could’ve burned the bar down! Why the fuck did Tyler let me-”

Phil laughs, squeezing Dan again. “Dan, don’t freak out. You were brilliant last night. Tyler said you alone made twice the money you usually do on a Saturday night, not including tips.”

Dan is silent, processing that. He decides not to respond.

The story plays on, and now there’s a photo of he and Phil filling the screen again. A selfie, like the last one, but this time Phil’s lips are pressed to Dan’s cheek. The caption reads:

New OTP??? #Phan ;)

It makes Dan suck in a breath, which he tries to disguise as a cough, probably not very well. Phil chuckles again, and screenshots the photo, despite it being Dan’s phone. Dan is, in a way, glad for this, as now he won’t have to screenshot it himself, and risk the embarrassment of Phil seeing.

“So… I’m guessing Charlie wasn’t there last night?” Dan asks after his heart has settled back into a regular rhythm.

Like it’s allergic to the mention of Charlie’s name, Dan’s phone instantly dies. He plucks it from Phil’s hand and sits up straight, letting Phil’s arm slip from his shoulders.

Whilst he’d been enjoying the sensation of having Phil’s arm around him a lot, it had been a bit too much for his hungover state.

“Nah, he had to work.”

“So you just swung by on your own?”

“Thought I’d pop in and see you,” Phil says, smiling broadly. “I was on my way back home.”

“From?”

Phil sighs, draining the last of his coffee. “My agency in London.”

Dan nods, though he can’t begin to picture what that would even look like. “So you came in to grab some Dan-time, and I ended up getting hammered and crashing on your sofa.” Dan rolls his eyes at himself. “Sorry.”

“Hah, I think it was mostly my fault, to be honest,” Phil admits. “I was urging you on. It’s only fair that I let you stay with me instead of sending you off to try and cross town back to your place.”

“Well, you did get me a fuckton of Instagram followers,” Dan says. “So I guess we’re even.”

Phil smiles at him. “Glad you see it that way. But honestly Dan, I think you got yourself those followers.” Phil laughs, poking Dan in the side. “It was those dance moves, I reckon.”

Dan puts his head in his hands, cheeks warm. “Please don’t. I never want to see myself behaving like that again.”

“I wouldn’t mind a second show,” Phil quips. Dan lifts his head in surprise, but Phil is already moving off the sofa, throwing the blanket aside and standing. He stretches his arms above his head once he’s up, the long, tapered line of his back straightening in a smooth curve. “Anyway,” he says, yawning as Dan swallows a wave of longing to reach out and trail his fingers down the cord of his spine. “How about some breakfast, Coyote Ugly?”

Unable to help smiling, Dan shrugs his shoulders. “It’s okay, I’ll get out of your hair. I’ve already been enough of a nuisance, I imagine.”

He wishes he could remember the trip back to Phil’s flat after his shift, but that part of the night is a dark void. He hopes Phil didn’t have to help him walk or anything embarrassing. He’s pretty sure he’d remember if he’d thrown up, which is a mercy, at least. The last thing he recalls before waking up on the sofa, is upending a bottle of cherry bakewell vodka into the mouths of a few guys wearing pink cowboy hats. Then, nothing.

“Let me put it this way,” Phil says, throwing a smile over his shoulder at Dan. “I’m gonna make enough pancakes for two, so if you leave now then you’re responsible for me eating them all.”

Dan laughs, watching Phil walk towards the kitchen, empty coffee mug in hand. Perhaps he could stay for a short while. Maybe until his head has stopped throbbing. Or just until all the pancakes are gone.

He stays for pancakes.

He stays for pancakes on Monday morning too.

Dan spends all of Sunday, and most of Monday on the angelically soft island that is Phil’s purple sofa. They play endless games of Mario Kart, and Fallout 4, and Fortnite, which Phil tells him he’s obsessed with, and now Dan is obsessed with too.

They eat dozens of pancakes, they order pizza twice, they eat all the Pringles, marshmallows and chocolate in Phil’s cupboards, as well as any other junk food they can get their hands on. It’s hangover food, Phil assures Dan at one point. It doesn’t count. Dan’s not sure about this philosophy, but then again, one look at Phil’s abs is enough to make Dan believe anything he says about the matter.

When, somehow, it gets to midnight on Sunday, Dan tries to tell Phil he should head home, but Phil, who is slipping Season One of Buffy the Vampire Slayer into his DVD player, won’t hear of it.

“Just stay for one episode,” he pleads, pouting. Dan instantly relents, of course.

One episode becomes two, which becomes three, and a half… When he wakes up on Monday morning, he’s still on Phil’s sofa, but this time his head rests on Phil’s shoulder.

It’s torturous, to wake up next to Phil Lester - who never did bother to put on a shirt - and not be able to do anything but move swiftly away from him. To avoid the temptation of pressing himself against all those miles of perfection, Dan picks himself up, leaving Phil to sleep on, and jumps in his shower. Then, he goes to make pancakes, telling himself that he’s simply returning the favour.

As he flips each one, he stares, teeth clenched, into the sizzling batter, imagining Phil is the scalding hot surface of the pan, and he is the pancake, slowly cooking himself one side after another, willingly lowering his fragile batter to Phil’s torturous yet irresistible touch.

To be friends with Phil is depraved. It’s self-torture, whichever way Dan looks at it. He’d like to pretend he’s no longer obsessed, now that they’ve spent time together, now that he knows Phil as a person, and not just a distant star. But it’s not true.

‘Never meet your heroes’, Dan’s grandmother used to say from time to time. She would warn him that they’d never live up to the fantasy version Dan would construct in his mind. ‘People are always just people in the end’, she’d once said.

But she was wrong.

Every single thing Dan learns about Phil makes him more fascinating, not the other way around. Once, a year or so ago, Dan had stumbled upon the AmazingPhil account, and spent several hours scrolling through each photo, only to conclude that Phil Lester was the most beautiful person alive.

Then, in the subsequent months, Dan had seen his videos, and heard him talk to his audience about his clumsiness and his fondness for fluffy animals. He’d heard Phil sing off-key anime intros, and sip bright cocktails with a glint in his ice blue eyes.

And now, knowing Phil in person, Dan has only discovered more of the same wild, colourful vivacity in the man. It’s like ‘AmazingPhil’ is only a slice of him, a hint at the layers and layers of crazy, happy, hilarious, sweetness that make him up.

It’s so unfair, Dan can’t help thinking. If meeting Phil IRL had been a disappointment, this would all have been so much easier to handle. He might have been able to stop being so madly obsessed with the guy if he’d turned out to be vapid and ordinary - like Charlie comes across, for example. But Phil’s not like that, and Dan should have known that he wouldn’t be. He should’ve said no the first time Phil asked him round, or left when Phil asked him to stay. Because every moment, every second he spends in Phil’s presence only makes it worse.

He’s fucked, royally. Phil won’t want him back. He won’t consider Dan as anything other than a friend. He’s got Charlie, for a start. Successful, beautiful Charlie.

And even if he didn’t, there’s no way his next choice would be a socially-awkward bartender who humiliates himself publicly after a few tequila shots.

Dan sighs, switching off the stove, and shovels the pancakes onto two plates.

Phil’s smile is rose pink and glittering as Dan brings him a plate of syrup-drenched pancakes. He gazes at them with wonderment, as if he just watched Dan conjure them out of thin air, as if Dan didn’t just break into all of Phil’s food cupboards, use his stove without asking, and make a huge batter-y mess of his pristine kitchen.

“Oh,” Phil says, swallowing his last bite. They’re watching Buffy, kind of, but mostly chatting. “I forgot, I wanted to ask you something.”

Vaguely, Dan remembers Phil telling him this a few days ago, back on the beach. He’d gotten distracted and never found out what it was. Intrigued, Dan turns to him.

“Yeah?”

“So,” Phil begins, eyes dropping to his plate as he sweeps a fingertip through a puddle of syrup. He looks… vaguely embarrassed. Dan is even more intrigued. “I was wondering what you’re doing at the weekend.”

Dan’s heart stops.

He shakes any ridiculous thoughts of potential dates from his mind before they can properly form, irritated by his own stupidity. In what world would Phil Lester ask him on an actual date? He has a boyfriend. And he’s famous. The absurdity is actually laughable.

“Just working, as usual,” Dan says, twirling his fork against his own plate. “But only Saturday evening, obviously.”

Phil nods, sipping the tea Dan made him to go with his pancakes. “Cool.”

Dan waits for Phil to continue, confused. There’s definitely a dusting of pink along his cheekbones. It makes him look even more angelic than usual.

“...Why?”

Phil gnaws his lip, looking at Dan. “You can totally say no,” he says quickly, putting his plate down on the coffee table. “There’s no pressure, I just thought, maybe…”

It’s sweet, really, that Phil thinks there’s anything he could ask of Dan that he’d actually be able to refuse.

“What is it?”

“I’m going to the Maldives for a few days for a shoot,” Phil says, sounding way less happy about this than Dan is sure he would be were the situations reversed. “I leave on Friday. I was just gonna ask if maybe you’d want to… stay here?” The request hangs in the air, a tempting, plump fruit dangling above Dan’s head, ready for plucking. “Like, while I’m away. I wanted to have someone around to water the plants and get the mail and stuff. You don’t have to, obviously, but I just thought as it’s close to the bar, and I trust you, and I don’t really know anyone else here-”

“Phil,” Dan interrupts, realising that Phil is rambling from nerves. He tries not to let the smile he gives splinter with stupid disappointment, born of the idiotic hope he’d tried not to feel. “I’d love to help you out. It’s not like it’s a chore to stay in your enormous, sea-view apartment.”

A relieved grin spreads over Phil’s face, and his shoulders sag of tension. “Really? You’re the best, Dan.”

He reaches over and grabs Dan’s hand, lacing his fingers through it and squeezing them. Dan’s heart squeezes too, as if Phil had wrapped his syrup-sticky fist around that, as well. He looks down at their intertwined fingers, aching; does Phil have any idea that this one, simple action is going to play on a loop in Dan’s head every night for weeks?

“And you don’t have to stay on the sofa while I’m not here,” Phil starts to say, drawing his hand away before Dan can even get used to the feeling. His breath catches in his lungs as the touch of him slips away. “You can just take the bed.”

“Oh, right,” Dan says, his mind not catching up for a moment. Once he realises what Phil just said, he reddens, stammering, “oh, wait, no, I don’t know if- the sofa’s really comfy I don’t need-”

“Seriously!” Phil insists. “It’s totally fine. I won’t be using it, after all. Just… maybe don’t bring anybody back to share it with you.”

Dan snorts at the ludicrousness. “As if.”

“Hey, I’ve seen the way people look at you when you’re working,” Phil says, his tone serious, his face joking. “You could pull anyone in that place if you tried.”

“Says you,” Dan mutters, but he feels a warm, pulsating orb of happiness deep in his chest.

“Anyway, so I’ll give you more details later in the week,” Phil tells him, bright and happy again, all traces of the pink on his cheeks having evaporated. “Stuff like the code to the front door, and the names of my houseplants, and how to work the TV and stuff. But seriously, you’re a lifesaver, Dan.”

Winston, Susan, Katie, and Totoro, Dan thinks privately. Those are the houseplants’ names. If Phil wants, Dan could provide him with the names of all his family members too. Or the breed of dog he’s considering adopting one day.

“It’s really not a big deal,” Dan says before he does anything as stupid as revealing his ‘Phil Trash Number One’ status. He’s already thinking about how wonderful it will be to just walk up the road to Phil’s building after his long Saturday night shift, and fall into a comfortable King Sized bed. “Happy to do it.”

The next thing Dan knows, he’s being wrapped in two, ridiculously thick, big arms, and tackled to the cushions at his back. As he struggles to get free of Phil’s hold, Dan wonders whether his life is, at present, a dream or a nightmare.

Dan just about has enough time after leaving Phil’s to catch a bus to his place, change into some different clothes, then get the bus back to the bar. He’s ten minutes late, technically, but Tyler’s no better, so he gets away with it.

Technically speaking, Tyler is his boss, as he’s the bar manager, but they both know that they’re really a team. Dodie and Lara are the newbie staff, and they don’t see a difference in authority between Dan and Tyler. Most importantly, the jobs get done, and the money is made and counted up at the end of the night. Tyler and Dan have been doing this for years, so it’s rare that anything goes wrong. Sure, they bicker about who has to mop up the vomit, and who has to change the barrels, but most of the time they work well together, and get along.

As Tyler swans in to the bar this afternoon, Dan can tell that something is off with him. “Hey,” he calls out as he dusts the liquor bottles behind the bar.

Tyler doesn’t respond, he just stalks across to the staff room. He doesn’t even bother to go inside, he just opens the door, throws his coat and bag in there, and slams it shut behind him.

“All men are fucking dickshits!”

Dan raises his eyebrows. “Uh, not sure that’s the message we’re striving to convey at Habenero’s.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Tyler hisses, rolling up his silken shirt sleeves. The action is telling; Ty would never usually crease his designer shirt in such a way. “The gay community is toxic. I hate this bar, I hate Brighton, I hate my life.”

“Who's the poor lad you’re trying to hook your claws into this time?” Dan asks; it’s immediately evident that this is the wrong thing to say.

“Dan, do not project your lame little pining love drama with a D-List celebrity onto me just because you’re too dumb to see what’s actually going on.”

For a moment, Dan is thrown, not sure what to make of Tyler’s jibe. He’d expected Tyler to just tell him to piss off, but this seems oddly specific. He glances across at Dodie, who is watching Tyler with wide eyes, halfway through setting up the DJ booth.

If Dan didn’t know better, he’d think she was trying to send him a warning glance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dan asks.

Dodie casts her worried gaze at Dan, then quickly turns away. He watches her suspiciously, then turns to Tyler again. He’s messing around in the cupboard where they keep the stereo controls, hooking up his phone to the dock and skipping through various songs as they burst from the speakers overhead.

Dan steps down from the stool on which he’s standing, throws his cloth to the bar, and stalks over to where Tyler is.

He jabs Tyler in the shoulder. “Ty. What are you trying to say?”

Tyler whirls to face him, cheeks red. “Look, Dan, you have to wake up. You’re being taken advantage of.”

“What?”

Tyler sighs, eyes fluttering closed. “I was hoping you’d figure this out for yourself, honestly. I mean, it’s painfully obvious to everyone except you.”

“Nice to know I’m apparently the gossip of the bar at the moment,” Dan says, feeling his blood start to boil.

“Well what do you expect?” Tyler asks, rolling his eyes. “This is a gay club. All we do is bitch, you know that. And when one of the bartenders of the biggest gay club in Brighton starts hanging out with a fucking gay Instagram icon, we’re hardly going to be discussing the latest episode of RuPaul.”

“Right,” Dan huffs, getting even more annoyed now. “So what is it, then? What am I so apparently blind to?”

Tyler opens his mouth, but seems to catch himself before speaking. His eyes soften, regarding Dan in front of him, and he sighs. His shoulders slacken, and his fists unclench.

“Dan…” his voice has a pitying quality to it that sets Dan’s teeth on edge. “He’s stringing you along.”

“Who, Phil?” Dan asks, bewildered. “What do you mean? It’s not like that-”

“Yeah, it’s not like that,” Tyler interrupts, rolling his eyes like he’s heard it all before. “But he’s in here three times a week to keep you hoping that one day it might be.”

Dan snorts. “I’m not delusional, Ty. Okay yeah, I have a crush on him, but I don’t actually think he’s interested. Besides, weren’t you the one who told me I should be holding out hope?”

“At first I thought you should!” Ty exclaims. “I thought he liked you, that maybe he was playing a hard-to-get game or something. But it just keeps going on and on. Why isn’t he doing anything about it if he fancies you? You’re obviously into him, and he knows that. What’s the point in fucking you around?”

“I’m out of his league,” Dan says, because to him, this is obvious. Charlie had even said as much to him, not long ago. “He’d never go for someone like me.”

“That’s complete bullshit.” Tyler jabs a finger at him. “If you like someone, you like them. It doesn’t matter about their job, or how much money they have, or their age-”

Tyler breaks off, flushing. Dan’s brow furrows - their age? He and Phil are only four years apart in age. That’s honestly never seemed to matter in the slightest, to either one of them. What’s Tyler on about?

“Anyway, the point is,” Tyler presses on, the words falling from his mouth in a tumble. “Even if he does have a bit of a soft spot for you, he’s being a dick about it. He’s flirting non-stop, putting ideas in your mind. He invites you over to sleep on his couch for fuck’s sake. Would you do that to someone you knew had a big fat crush on you?”

The image from Phil’s Instagram Story bullets into his brain, suddenly. Phil’s lips pressed to his cheek. The caption ‘#PHAN’. When Dan had first seen it, it had sent shivers up his spine, it had made him glow with happiness. Now, it seems cruel. What could Phil’s reason have been to post it, especially if one factors Charlie into the equation.

“He’s using you,” Tyler says quietly. “It’s the same thing he does with that brainless pretty-boy dick he comes here with. Posting photos of them together, titillating his fans with an are-they-aren’t-they romance, riling them up to get more likes.”

“We’re friends,” Dan says, though he doesn’t manage to convince even himself.

“Maybe,” Tyler says. “But he knows you like him, and he’s still stringing you along, even though he arguably has a boyfriend. He’s just gonna keep you on edge, primed for the moment he turns round and ‘sees’ you for the first time, ‘She’s All That’-style. But it won’t happen, Dan. You need to see that it won’t happen, and that if you keep hanging out with him like this, staying at his house, letting him kiss you for his profile photos, buying you drinks… you’re just gonna be miserable.”

The words have left Dan’s mouth, indefinitely. His mind swirls with the lights across the floor and walls, dizzying. Tyler’s words reverberate around his mind, crashing into the walls of the secret, tiny shrine of hope he’d built, until they one by one crumble to dust on the floor.

He’s using you.

Crash.

You’re gonna be miserable.

Crash.

He’s stringing you along.

Crash, crash, crash

For some reason, there’s a stinging sensation in Dan’s eyes. He takes a step backwards, away from Tyler. “I… yeah. Cool. I have to go change the barrels.”

“I changed them after we closed on Saturday,” Tyler says, confused. Dan ignores him, heading for the cellar in a slow, dazed movement. “Dan, wait, I’m sorry. I’m pissed off, I shouldn’t have said any of that. You know what I’m like when I’m moody, don’t be upset. Phil’s a nice guy! I like him, I’m just concerned- Dan! Please?”

Vaguely, as he closes the cellar door behind himself, Dan hears Tyler cursing under his breath. In the cold, damp darkness of the cellar, Dan slides down the closed door, not caring that as his bum touches the concrete, the rivulets of beer escaping from the barrels soak into his jeans.

He feels so stupid. Everyone could see how ridiculous he was being, this whole time. Even Phil must have seen how desperately, how pathetically Dan pines for him. Tyler’s right, why else would Phil stick around him? Dan being a superfan is easy to manipulate into something that will get Phil a bigger audience. If Phil plays along, the fans will grab at it, will see Dan as an exciting new contender for Phil’s love interest. Perhaps they’ll turn it into some crazy three-way love triangle between him and Charlie, kind of like in Dan's warped sex dream.

He swallows down a lump in his throat, too angry at himself to cry. He’s a pawn in a professional fame-game he doesn’t know the rules for, unwittingly being used as a plot device in the AmazingPhil reality show. He digs his phone out of his pocket, and checks his Instagram profile.

Followers 123,455

The number glides over his skin, meaningless. “Welcome to the world of fake fame,” Dan mutters to himself, then forces himself to stand. He switches off his phone, grimacing.

No time to deal with any of this now, anyway. Over the next eight hours, Dan has to suspend his own drama-filled life, in favour of the hundreds of other gays, with their own squabbles and heartbreaks and drunk mistaken hookups.

He can deal with this alone, later, back in his bed across the city, far away from the bar, and the roaring sea, and Phil.

(Part 7!)

#phan #phanfic #give me a try #bartender au #phanfiction

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