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antiadvil · 5 years

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We’re Getting Married!

PG13, 2.8k

video title: We’re Getting Married! uploaded: December 8, 2019 by AmazingPhil Description: We talk about our relationship with each other, our audience, and appropriate creator/audience boundaries. Sorry we couldn’t find a wedding venue that would fit three million people!

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A/N: *** indicates a jump cut. this is filmed in Phil’s bedroom bc in an imagined universe with joint content I can fulfill all my nostalgic fantasies oh also warning for discussion of the vday video if you're not into that

“Hey guys! Today I’m here with a very special surprise guest-”

Dan’s voice interrupted Phil from off camera. "Are you not going to put me in the thumbnail?"

Phil laughed. "I mean, probably."

"So I'm not much of a surprise."

"I guess not. Anyway, we have a special announcement-"

"Phil. They read the title. Why do your video intros always assume no one reads your titles?"

"Hey! I haven't decided what I’m going to title it yet."

Dan came into frame and flopped onto the bed with him. "Sure you haven't. You know exactly what will get this video the maximum number of clicks, you goddamn-"

Phil threw his hand over Dan’s mouth. “Stop.”

He yanked it back almost immediately. “Did you just lick me?”

Dan smiled. “Maybe.”

“You’re disgusting. I’m going to go wash my hands with bleach,” Phil said, climbing off of his bed.

“Can you bring me a glass of water?” Dan called after him. “I’m thirsty.”

Phil called something back. It was entirely bleeped out.

***

“Count of three,” Phil said. “One, two, three-”

“We’re getting married!” Dan’s normally large hand gestures were carefully constrained by the glass of water in his right hand.

“Some of you are probably confused-” Phil said.

“Some of you are probably hyperventilating,” Dan interrupted, “And I’d like to say that while you’re valid, get a life that is not vicariously lived through our relationship. Please.”

“So let’s do a bit of background first,” Phil finished. “So I think most of you who follow us know that Dan and I met on the internet in 2009 and then we met up later the same year, which is when we filmed the first Phil is not on fire.”

“What you probably know if you watched my coming out video is that the whole time, we were super gay for each other,” Dan added. “What I didn’t really get into is that we’re still super gay for each other.”

“Wait, we are?”

Dan shrugged, setting his water on Phil’s nightstand. “I mean, I’m still super gay for you.”

Phil frowned. “I don’t know if I’d describe it that way.”

“Well, this is awkward,” Dan muttered.

“Anyway, we’ve been dating ever since then, and we thought we’d give a quick little recap of our relationship for those of you who just got here. So, I already mentioned that we met in 2009-”

“Obligatory disclaimer, we don’t endorse travelling a hundred and fifty miles to meet a guy who’s four years older than you that you met on the internet, even if you were the one who stalked him first.”

“Hey!” Phil laughed.

“But anyway,” Dan continued, “Phil and I met in a public place before going to his house and it turned out he wasn’t an axe murderer, so everything was fine.”

“What would you have done if I was?” Phil asked.

“You know, that’s a really great question. I maybe should have thought a little bit more about that.”

“So, we’re not even five minutes into the video and the biggest takeaway is that you should never have come to meet me?”

Dan nodded. “Our entire relationship was a mistake. I’m sorry, everyone, time to go home.”

“So poor life choices aside, we met in 2009, filmed Phil is not on fire, and just generally hung out a lot.”

“Hung out is one word for what we spent most of our time doing, but since this is Phil’s channel, let’s leave it at that.” Dan winked.

“Hey!”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Look me in the eye and tell me that is not what we spent most of our time together doing.”

“That is not what we spent most of our time doing.”

“Okay then, if you say so-”

“I do-” Phil insisted.

“Then we’ll leave it at that. We visited a lot, but, full disclosure, long distance sucks, which was a big factor in my decision to attend uni in Manchester. You probably already know how that went down.” Dan rolled his eyes.

“Apart from the uni part, though, it was really nice being so close by, so we moved in together in 2011.”

“And then there was what you will probably know as the Valentine’s day video,” Dan said with a grimace.

“Dan and I don’t really feel comfortable discussing the details of that whole thing because that video was very personal to us.”

Dan smiled in Phil’s direction. “I still have a copy.”

“But seriously, if you’re not me or Dan, I’d really appreciate it if you’d remove any copies you’ve posted on the internet and delete any copies you may have saved, out of respect for our privacy.”

“Believe me, I know nothing I can say will make that video disappear. My entire life is just proof that anything you put on the internet is permanent. And there’s nothing anyone can do about it now, but I want people to understand that all the speculation about my sexuality that came up when that video resurfaced really hurt me. Don’t do that. Seriously. If you think a celebrity or a YouTuber or whoever is hiding their sexuality, just let them. You don’t know what’s happening in their lives, and honestly, you’re not entitled to, either.”

Phil nodded. “Also, that was a really hard time for us as a couple as well as personally. I don’t think a lot of people realize the pressure being constantly under a microscope has on a relationship, which is one of the reasons we chose not to share our relationship and why we still don’t feel comfortable sharing everything about it.”

“Which is fine! Neither of us are ashamed of our relationship. We’re not hiding anything. We just aren’t really looking forward to reading newspaper headlines about our relationship, which really doesn’t seem like it should be news. Like, it’s our relationship, not the entire world’s relationship,” Dan explained.

“Really, it seems so weird to us that people even care about it. Like, it’s flattering and all, don’t get me wrong, but it was also a bit scary at first when we weren’t out.”

“It’s like, remember in my coming out video how I mentioned that when that guy said I gave off a bi vibe it really scared me? Having strangers on the internet tell me that my relationship with Phil was obvious was scary when even my parents didn’t know. The shipping was fine. It was mostly the speculation that was scary.”

“But we made it.” Phil put his hand on Dan’s leg and smiled.

Dan smiled back, almost forgetting the camera in the room. “God, there were some days I thought we wouldn’t. But we did. And I love you.”

Phil smiled even wider and swiped at his eyes.

Dan’s smile grew to a smirk. “Are you crying? Oh my god, you are such a dork.”

“Your mum’s a dork,” Phil muttered.

Dan reached for his phone. “I’m telling her you said that.”

“No!” Phil threw his shoulder into Dan’s chest, sending him sprawling against Phil’s bed.

Dan laughed. “Ow. Hey, Siri, call Mu-”

Phil put his hand over Dan’s mouth. “Stop.”

Dan’s phone chirped from the other side of the bed. “Okay. Calling Mum.”

Dan scrambled to reach it. “Oh shit, oh fuck, should I hang up?”

“Dan! You can’t call your mum and then hang up on her.”

“Shut up, rat, this is your fau- Oh, hey, Mum!”

“Hi!” Phil said.

“Oh, hello, Dan! And Phil. Is everything alright?”

“You need to call your mum more often, Dan, if every time she picks up she asks if something’s wrong,” Phil said.

Dan’s mum laughed.

“Shut up, Phil. No, Mum, nothing’s wrong, just wanted to catch up.”

***

“So, I’m never jokingly asking Siri to call anyone ever again,” Dan said.

“Why? Was calling your mum that horrible?” Phil laughed.

“Shut up, Phil. That was your fault.”

“Does your mum watch your videos?” Phil asked.

“Not really.”

“I’m sending her a link to this one.”

“I hate you,” Dan said quietly.

“You too.”

***

"Now, Phil, we've been dating for a pretty long time."

Phil shrugged. "Only like ten years.”

"So, Phil, why did we wait so long for this?"

Phil nodded. "Well, first of all, it wasn't legal for a pretty long time."

"Right. Civil partnerships were a thing in 2004, but I'm lame and traditional, and same sex marriage was only legalized in 2014. That's half of our relationship, for some perspective."

"And, fun fact," Phil added, "Same sex marriage is still illegal in Northern Ireland."

Dan frowned. "That was not a fun fact. That was a very sad fact."

"But it's a true fact," Phil protested.

"Moving on, again!" Dan said. "I also wanted my family to be there, and, well, I'm a mess who didn't even come out to them until like six months ago."

Phil patted Dan's shoulder comfortingly. "You're not a mess."

Dan stared at the camera. "I'm a mess."

"Okay, fine. You're a little bit of a mess."

Dan turned to Phil in mock outrage. “You think I’m a mess?”

“No! I-”

Dan turned back to the camera. “You heard it here, folks. Phil is judging me because I took my time coming out. Phil hates closeted people.”

Phil glared at him. “I’m never agreeing with you ever again.”

“This relationship is off to a great start!”

***

“So back to the original question! Why now, Dan?”

“Well, Phil, now that I’m out to my family we can have a proper wedding, and now that we’re out to our viewers we don’t have to worry about one of our own personal stalkers finding our marriage records.”

“Also, marriage does come with a lot of cool perks,” Phil added.

“Gotta get those sweet, sweet tax benefits.”

“And that sweet, sweet, societal recognition of our relationship.”

“Also, it makes buying a house and general joint property ownership way simpler, which will make it a lot easier to take all of Phil’s subscribers in the inevitable divorce.”

Phil laughed. “What?”

Dan blinked. “Sorry, I didn’t say anything. Did you hear something?”

“Well, I thought I heard you say you were going to divorce me and take my subscribers.”

Dan shook his head, his expression deeply offended. “Why would I say that? Who would do such a thing?”

Phil stared solemnly at the camera. “Gaslighting is a form of abuse.”

“Thank you for the PSA, Phil.”

“Just documenting the abuse I’m currently suffering under so that I can take all your subscribers in the divorce,” Phil said.

Dan frowned. “Okay, I wasn’t going to say anything, but you sounded really serious just then so I now feel the need to clarify that I am not abusing Phil and also, domestic violence is not funny.”

Phil laughed. “No actual abuse.”

Dan sighed. “We’re terrible people, aren’t we?”

“I mean, we’re not terrible people.”

Dan laughed. “We’re just bad people, with terrible senses of humor. That’s so much better.”

“We can edit it out if-” Phil started.

“I mean, it’s your channel-” Dan said.

They stared at each other for a moment before shrugging in unison. “Whatever,” they said, still in unison.

***

“So, Phil, what’s changing for our viewers?” Dan asked.

“Literally nothing. We’ll be taking a short break from uploading-”

“Which I do all the time! So I doubt you’ll even notice.”

“But we’re not going to change the types of videos we upload. This isn’t a relationship channel.”

Dan winked. “As much as you might want it to be.”

“Seriously, though. We’re not even changing our names. Nothing’s changing,” Phil assured the camera.

“But in case it wasn’t clear, here are some FAQs.”

Phil pulled out a stack of notecards and put on his best announcer voice. “Are we invited?”

Dan smiled. “No.”

Phil flipped to the next card. “Kiss!”

“That’s not a question, but somehow, the answer is still no.”

Phil laughed. “I think a photo of us kissing would actually break the internet.”

Dan shrugged. “Really, we’re just being kind to your internet providers.”

“Lester-Howell or Howell-Lester?”

“We already answered that, Phil. You really need to screen these questions better, especially since you wrote them.”

“Answer it anyway,” Phil pleaded.

Dan sighed heavily. “Neither. I would never saddle my child with two last names.”

“Child?” Phil turned to the camera with an exaggerated gasp.

Dan smiled. “That’s all you’re getting. Let the fanfiction writing begin.”

Phil paused. “Wait, so whose last name-”

“Honestly, I was just joking because neither of us are changing our names, but if you want to have a Dan versus Phil to see who gets to name our child-”

“I’m good.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Phil turned to the next card. “Wedding photos?”

“Is that a question or a demand? Please don’t hack my hard drive.”

“Top or bottom?”

“There is no way anyone actually thinks we’ll answer that.”

“Probably not.” Phil flipped again. “And last, but definitely not least, why are we telling our viewers?”

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that we’re telling a lot more people than our viewers. But I never had any healthy models for queer relationships when I was a kid, and if I can provide that, I don’t see why not.” Dan’s voice was surprisingly serious.

“Think of us like your parents,” Phil added. “We’re here to show you how healthy relationships work, but we’re not here to show you everything. Partly because we need some privacy and partly because that would be gross.”

Dan was wincing as soon as he heard the word “parents.” “Phil, Phil, please stop. Do not encourage our audience to think of us as their parents. Did you learn nothing from our tumblr tag? Please never say those words again.”

“Fine, I’ll edit them out.”

Dan shook his head. “You said it, Phil. You can’t escape it.”

“Okay, well, at least give another response so I can decide if I want to keep it in,” Phil persuaded, in the soft, natural, voice he normally saved for off camera.

Dan gave an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, hiding a relationship is just so much work. Especially a marriage. And you guys are total stalkers. Like seriously. Get a life. Please.”

“That’s better! And much more fitting with who our audience is.”

“Phil, I’m the one who gets to insult our fans. You’re the one who says we love them and appreciate them.”

“We do!” Phil insisted.

“Do we?” Dan asked skeptically.

“Yes.” Phil laughed, staring at Dan in disbelief.

“Kidding,” Dan muttered, flashing a smile at the camera. “Please buy my merch.”

Phil sighed. “Danielhowellshop.com?”

Dan smiled. “Also, while you’re at it, check out my good friend Phil’s merch at amazingphilshop.com!”

Phil stared straight at the camera. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You know what, we’re such close friends that we also have a joint merch shop, danandphilshop.com. You could begin there, Phil.”

“Is it too early for a divorce?” Phil asked.

“Yes. You’re stuck with me.”

“Am I really?”

“Just think about the tax benefits. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and remember how much money you’re going to save by marrying me.”

Phil shook his head. “It’s not worth it.”

Dan pouted.

***

“For more videos like this-”

“Phil. We’re never making another video like this again.”

“For more videos not like this, click on my face to subscribe to my channel, click on Dan’s face to subscribe to his channel-”

“I have plans to actually upload a video this year-”

“And for our joint channel, click here.” Phil raised their joined hands.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to edit this video, upload it, and disconnect my internet for at least a month.”

Dan turned to Phil. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. I’m not sure I want to open tumblr for the next six years.”

Phil cringed. “Me neither. Guys, please try not to go too crazy. I lost friends over the protip incident of 2016.”

Dan shuddered. “So many people refuse to talk to us now. I’m not even joking.”

“We appreciate the support!” Phil insisted.

“Just like, maybe on our videos instead of completely random ones,” Dan suggested.

Phil nodded. “Anyway, if you liked this video, please give it a thumbs up, or leave a comment. Like I said, Dan and I will be taking a short break from YouTube and social media for the wedding and honeymoon, but we’ll be back soon with plenty of content.”

“I don’t want to see any of your conspiracy theories about how we’re leaving YouTube out there, I promise it’ll only be like a month.”

“And that’s the normal amount of time between two Dan videos,” Phil interjected, “So-”

“Hey! I said I would upload this year.”

Phil smiled. “Never said you wouldn’t.”

***

“Count of three again?” Dan asked.

Phil nodded. “Three, two, one-”

“Goodbye!”

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan fluff #i feel awkward tagging fics on tumblr #bc obviously i can't use the d*n or ph*l tags #so it's just 10 variants of phan #oops #my writing

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nebulous-frog · 5 years

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Not-So-Straight Best Friends

Summary: Based off this post from @pseudophan. Basically, what if Dan and Phil really were queerbaiting us this whole time but suddenly they realized they were in love?

Word Count: 1832

Genre: Getting Together, AU, crack!fic (ish? idek man)

Warnings: Vague descriptions of queerbaiting, swearing, dumbassery, first kiss... honestly idek

Author’s Note: I literally just wrote this in like. An hour or something? Hour and a half? on my phone and then found my laptop to post it. Not entirely sure what this is, pretty sure I was possessed when I started writing, but now we’re here I guess lmao

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

When Dan and Phil first started talking, it was because Dan genuinely wanted editing tips from Phil.

They pretended they became friends after that from a shared interest in Muse, but it really wasn’t anything like that. Instead, their friendship formed from a shared love of sports. The first time they met each other in person, they went out for beers at a pub in Manchester and then kicked a football around at Phil’s place. They didn’t hug, they didn’t have an emotional moment. They did a manly handshake and carried on. That night, Dan slept on the floor, a respectful, definitely-straight, no-homo-possible distance from Phil.

Years down the line, they wouldn’t remember whose idea it was. Dan would suggest it was Phil’s, since Phil was the one who knew about publicity already, but Phil would suggest it was Dan’s, since he was so keen on being friends in the first place. Whoever started it, they had long ago decided to pretend to be in a relationship that they were intentionally hiding from their audiences.

They created imaginary stories and scenarios and sent them out to the public, watching as their fans ate up every last bit of the fake relationship.

It was all an elaborate ruse to keep fans invested and draw in a wider audience. They even made their personas intentionally nerdy to really grasp the attention of a specific demographic.

To really sell it, they went on a few holidays together and tweeted about each other all the time. Eventually, they moved in together, partly maintain the shady lie.

But it wasn’t all a lie. They really were best friends and did everything together, just as any other guy best friends would do. They knew each other’s favorite athletes, attended sporting events together, played wingman for each other (whenever possible, that is; they had to be careful so no fan would see them dating or flirting with someone else).

And so it went for years. Dan and Phil hid their true sports-loving lad personalities from the internet successfully, even going so far as to act differently around friends so they wouldn’t accidentally let it slip. They were content with this, too. It made them money and people looked up to them, respected them, loved them. It was everything they’d ever wanted.

Except it wasn’t.

Dan was totally straight, of course. Of course. But he couldn’t help but admire Phil’s physique. He’d stopped exercising quite so much a long time ago to help with the nerdy image, but his arms were toned in just the right way for a camera not to notice. Plus, it wasn’t like Phil ever took his shirt off on camera. His abs were killer. The only reason they made Dan feel weak was because he literally wasn’t as strong as Phil. Right? Right.

And then Phil started asking Dan to play wingman more often.

“Come on,” he’d whine. “I haven’t gotten laid in ages and you’re such a good wingman.”

And Dan would feel his jaw clench, his hands twitch. “No,” he’d say. “I don’t want to.”

“I’ll buy your drinks, though,” Phil would promise.

Dan would scoff and shake his head.

“Why are you being such a dick?” Phil would accuse with a glare.

And so it went, over and over until Dan finally agreed to just do it already so Phil would quit bothering him.

They went out to a higher-end bar to avoid fans. The lighting was dim and the music was loud to encourage closeness, but Dan just found it annoying. He wanted to go home.

Not long after they arrived and got their beers, Phil bumped Dan’s arm with his own.

“Look at her, over by the loo. Wavy brown hair.”

Rolling his eyes, Dan turned his head to find the girl in question. He could see why Phil had noticed her. Her crop top showed off a flat stomach and her short shorts showed off long legs stuffed into knee-high stiletto boots. Her pale skin shone through the darkness of the bar. Dan turned back to his drink.

“You gonna go talk to her or do I have to?” Dan asked, voice betraying no emotion as he raised his beer to his lips.

“Well, obviously you have to. You’re my wingman, remember? Go talk me up.”

Dan sighed through his nose, too quiet for Phil to hear, and downed the rest of his drink in one.

“Here goes,” he said with a nod at Phil. He crossed the room to stand in front of the girl Phil fancied, thoughts racing with every step. The closer he got, the more repulsed he was by this whole plan. All he had to do was talk to her but that was supposed to get Phil laid and Dan suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of Phil sleeping with some strange girl. Come to think of it, he didn’t like the idea of Phil sleeping with anybody. Well. Anyone but one specific person…

Dan stopped a few feet from the girl, eyes wide. He didn’t want to do this. He wouldn’t do this, he couldn’t possibly. It would break his heart, right as he’d finally discovered how it beat. He sized the girl up once more, then turned to look at Phil, who was nonchalantly leaning up against the bar and pretending not to pay attention. Phil would be so pissed, but Dan couldn’t help it. He had to do what had to be done.

He crossed the last few steps towards the girl.

“Hey, that guy over there? Black hair, quiff?”

The girl looked disinterestedly over his shoulder at Phil. “Yeah, what about him?” she asked, clearly suspicious.

“He’s got…” Dan grasped for an excuse- “he’s got chlamydia.”

The girl wrinkled her nose. “Sucks to be him, then.” Then she stalked away, boots clicking on the tiled floor as she walked out the door.

Moments later, Phil appeared at Dan’s elbow.

“The hell was that? You’re usually so good!” he asked, perplexed.

Dan fought the blush threatening to creep onto his cheeks at the compliment and scrambled for an explanation. “She- uh- she said she’s a lesbian.”

Phil frowned. “Oh. Guess it wasn’t meant to be, then.”

“Guess not,” Dan agreed with a pitying nod. “Alright, let’s go home, then. We’ll try another night.”

Phil’s brow scrunched up and Dan had to fight the desperate urge to rub away the wrinkles on his forehead.

“Give up after only one failure? No way, Howell, we’re not going home tonight until one of us gets fucked.”

Dan sighed again. He wasn’t really in the mood for getting fucked, at least, not by anyone who wasn’t Phil.

The realization hit him like a train again, but he had no time to recover as Phil grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bar so they could scout their options once more.

Phil sent Dan out to try three more girls, and each time Dan purposefully botched the interactions.

Finally, a defeated Phil agreed to give up for the night.

Life continued on as normal for the two of them for a while as Dan desperately tied to figure out what to do with himself. His jealousy had awakened feelings inside himself that he’d never expected to feel and suddenly he wasn’t quite as straight as he thought he was and being around Phil was simultaneously too much and not enough.

He was in love with his best friend. His straight best friend, who he half-pretended to be in love with.

God, it was complicated.

Every little thing Phil did would send butterflies racing through Dan’s digestive system or blood rushing to places it ought not be rushing to and Dan was having a very hard time coping with his body doing all of that all at once and could Phil be a little less sexy for two minutes?

He was a goddamn mess, basically.

And then there came a day when he just couldn’t take it anymore.

They were playing FIFA together and nothing in particular caused it but Phil laughed at something Dan said and he looked so pretty and suddenly there it was.

“I love you.”

Dan’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud to Phil, not ever, and here he had. Shit, what could he do? What should he do? Play it off as a joke? The thought of turning something so serious, so heartfelt, so real into a joke was almost too much to bear-

Phil snorted. “Yeah, of course, I love you, too.”

In a split second, Dan realized he couldn’t keep living like this. He had to come clean.

“No, really.” He paused the game, ignoring Phil’s protests but refusing to meet his eyes. “I love you but, like, not work-related.”

He was met with a deafening silence. The tension was killing him, so he forced himself to look up at Phil.

Shock, confusion, and something unnameable played in his expression, his jaw dropped open and eyes searching Dan’s face. Dan had expected anger, disgust, betrayal maybe, but this was very different. He thought he’d known every possible expression Phil could make after being friends and living together for so long, but this was something new and unexpected and frightening but the tiniest bit exciting, as well.

The seconds crawled by until finally Phil shut his mouth with a soft clop and his eyes stopped their searching, landing on Dan’s mouth. Time stopped then, and then suddenly Phil’s lips were on Dan’s and hands were grabbing and feeling and wandering and Dan felt dizzy with it all when Phil pulled back a few seconds later, eyes wide again and his hands still buried in Dan’s curls.

“I’ve never done that before,” he blurted. “Kissed a guy, I mean. I’ve never felt like this before, either, though, so I guess it makes sense that it would make me do things I’d never done. What the hell is wrong with me? This is insane-“

Dan’s heart sank. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, I understand you don’t feel the same-“

Phil’s lips were on his again and Dan let out a squeak and then a moan as Phil took his bottom lip between his teeth and pulled.

“Sorry, you were getting the wrong idea,” Phil hurried to say when he properly pulled back, hands still in Dan’s curls and holding him in place so he couldn’t chase after Phil’s lips like he so desperately wanted to. “I love you, too, not work-related. Well, I mean, sort of work-related because that’s how I fell in love with you and why I thought this would never happen and wanted a distraction and-“

Now it was Dan’s turn to interrupt Phil.

“We’ve wasted enough time already, don’t you think?” Dan gasped when he broke the kiss.

“I guess you’re right,” Phil replied. “Carry on, then.”

And “carry on” they did.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #crackfic #fluff #getting together #food mention #first kiss #friends to lovers #my brain just yeeted this into existence i apologize lmao

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maybeformepersonally · 5 years

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Fic: One golden glance of what should be

Title: One golden glance of what should be Author: maybeformepersonally Rating: G / General Audiences Summary: Hogwarts AU where inter-house friendship blooms, Dan plays Quidditch, Phil cheers for him, and realisations are acted upon. Word Count: 2752 Author’s Note: I wrote this fic for @unhawkeye for the Phanfic Events Spring Fic Exchange. I’d like to thank the kind folks at Phanfic Events for organising this fest and @unhawkeye for submitting this prompt and for the lovely comment they left, I’m glad you enjoyed it! Warnings: None

Read on AO3

Sometimes, not often but sometimes, Dan regretted talking the Sorting Hat into putting him in Gryffindor. Oh, do not get the wrong idea, he liked his house. For the most part. His housemates may be a loud and boisterous bunch more often than not, but that worked well enough for Dan in group settings, since he could be involved without exhausting himself emotionally; all he had to do was make the occasional comment and laugh when someone said something funny and he was considered part of the group. He was proud of being a Gryffindor. He liked the warm, glowy feeling he got whenever he caught himself being particularly courageous, and there was nothing like seeing hundreds upon hundreds of other students, even from other houses, wearing his house colours and cheering for him when his fingers closed around the ever so elusive golden snitch. He liked earning house points, and he liked being the non-threatening, easy-going upperclassman that first years felt confident asking for help. And if he sometimes felt adrift and trapped in the stifling exuberance of his housemates, if he sometimes needed to get away from the aggressively extroverted energy of his house’s Common Room, well. There's nothing wrong with wanting some time to himself to recharge.

Dan liked his house. He was thankful he had managed to sway the Hat’s first ‘suggestion’. But being in Gryffindor meant he had to share class time with not only Phil Lester, but also Charlie Casey, who was apparently physically incapable of not flirting with Phil for more than 5 continuous minutes.

Here was the thing about Dan: he was a helplessly, desperately, poisonously jealous person by nature. It didn't matter that he had no claim over Phil, except maybe a tenuous one as a situational kind-of-friend who was happy to chat when they were both passing time and no one more interesting was around. It didn't matter that Charlie was getting nowhere with his overt flirting and only slightly more covert near-stalking. It didn't even matter that Phil was clearly not interested, because Phil was also painfully nice, and so as long as Charlie didn't cross a line, he'd put up with his annoying housemate making eyes at him and babbling at him and trying to sit close to him in class and, and, and.

Dan may have been biased, but it still grinded his gears, every single time.

“Any questions? No? Alright then! Split into pairs and start practising the spell. Remember to make that a light swish, we don’t want to have to make any unplanned visits to the Hospital Wing today!”

Dan was distracted enough sneaking looks at Phil and Charlie that the professor’s words caught him a bit off-guard. On the flip side, however, sneaking looks at Phil seemed to have paid off this time, for as soon as the instructions were uttered, Phil had turned to him with one of those bright smiles that always made a nervous wriggly feeling burst inside Dan’s chest. Is he… he is, Dan thinks wildly. Dan had, of course, noticed that Phil’s usual class partner hadn’t been present in either of their shared classes that day, but with Charlie right there he’d figured Phil would just partner with him. Then again, Charlie could be a bit too enthusiastic with his wand movements, so Phil was making the right strategic choice, really.

“Hey,” Phil said once he reached him. He even did that cute little hand gesture he did sometimes when greeting people, that movement that looked like it half wanted to be a wave if only it could gather enough motivation. The wriggly feeling intensified in Dan's chest. “Wanna partner?”

“Yeah,” Dan answered lamely. “Sure.”

The smile he got made him think being awkward was worth it, if it got him that reaction from Phil Lester of all people.

Phil walked down the moving staircase excitedly, moving slightly ahead of his mates every couple of minutes before noticing that his longer stride and bubbling enthusiasm were propelling him too far ahead, and forcing himself to slow down. It was 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday, and by all intents and purposes he should have been shuffling his feet and groaning under his breath at being out of bed so early on a weekend. But today was different. Because his efforts were for a cause. A good and just cause. And that cause was Daniel Howell, expertly flying all over the pitch and flaunting his frankly spectacular skills with a broomstick.

Today was the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and the whole school was vibrating with anticipation, with the sheer drama of it, the two rivals clashing in the pitch for their one and only yearly match, fighting to one-up each other at every turn, risking life and limb with gravity-defying moves for the unparalleled glory of coming out the other side victorious. Phil had the passing thought that if he was an animated character, his eyes would be shining. Possibly they’d be shaped like stars.

The overall scores so far were tilted slightly in favour of Slytherin, but the Gryffindors had a more well-rounded team, and the best Seeker in the school (Phil was adamant, despite his own housemates' protests), so the odds were looking pretty good for Gryffindor supporters. Which Phil was, today. He’d always cheered for Gryffindor when his own House wasn’t playing, but his support had become more… ardent since Dan joined the team in their fifth year. Coincidentally, fifth year was the year when Phil… noticed him.

Phil had a habit of spending more time inside his head than in the outside world with all his peers, and so it wasn’t unusual for him not to know the students from the other houses very well. Still, how he managed to overlook Dan Howell for so long was a mystery that evaded him. (Puberty might have had something to do with the ‘revelation’. Maybe. Possibly.)

Dan was just… so nice? Always, even with people who didn’t deserve it. And he was so smart, he always did well in their shared classes, but it wasn’t even that. Anyone who studied would do reasonably good in class, but Dan always asked the most insightful questions, and gave the most thoughtful answers, not like learning by rote would do, but like he had all these thought and ideas about what magic was, how magic worked, how magic affected magical people, about the implied tenets of magical society and what their implications were. Seriously, Phil didn’t know how he’d managed to escape being a Ravenclaw.

And he was beautiful, yeah, that was also a factor, but it wasn’t the only one, Phil had standards.

Dan met all of his standards, and then he went on to create a few new ones just for the sake of it. Like how Phil didn’t use to think about Hogwarts’ expectations that muggleborn children basically cut all ties with the culture they were born in to fully immerse themselves in the magical word, but ever since Dan had brought it up in class, he’d started noticing more and more the completely non-existent efforts purebloods made to learn about their mates’ culture, how most muggle references earned the speaker blank stares at best and a sneer at worst. How there was no muggle history taught at Hogwarts, to the detriment of all students, who would go on to graduate missing the history of the grand majority of humans, much of which is directly relevant to wizardkind. Like how muggle-raised first years have to quietly struggle with learning to write with a quill, since apparently that’s not used by muggles anymore? (Dan had something called a “gel pen” that could write in sparkly pink without any need to dip it into ink at all!)

The point of the matter was, Dan was on Phil’s mind all the time these days, but Phil wasn’t sure where he stood in Dan's. He always acted friendly towards Phil, even happy to talk to him, but he wasn’t normally the one to seek him out. Phil had decided to try talking to him more (it was his number one New Year’s resolution), and so far it was looking promising.

Phil doubted he’d get to talk to Dan the day of a match, let alone the most awaited match of the year for half the school at least, but he didn't really mind. He was going to get to see Dan playing Quidditch today. He was going to get to experience Dan in his element. Phil could have sworn Dan was made to be an athlete, the way he moved on a broom. It was stunning.

He was stunning.

Phil had been wrong, as it turned out. Later in the day, once the Gryffindor festivities had died down, Phil ran into Dan on his way to the library. Almost literally.

“Oh, hey, are you okay?” Dan asked, way too concerned and way too close, one hand still on Phil’s shoulder where he’d grabbed him to avoid a full-on collision.

“Oh. Hi. Yeah. Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I’m bad at keeping tabs on my surroundings. Thanks,” Phil spewed out with no intervention of his brain whatsoever.

Dan gave him one of those sweet, soft smiles with the dimples and squeezed his shoulder lightly before letting go. “It’s fine. Just try to pay better attention next time. We wouldn’t want to have to scrape you off the dungeon floors because you were too distracted to notice the staircase had changed directions.”

Phil threw him an exaggeratedly suspicious look, “What do you know? Whatever they told you, it’s not true and they’re trying to throw off suspicion by telling you made up stories about my early days of being a perfectly balanced first year genius. Don’t let them throw you off the scent, whoever told you that clearly has something to hide.”

Dan’s laugh made his heart do a wild flip in his chest, and all Phil could do was grin really wide.

They ended up going to the library together and sitting down in one of the alcoves to read their respective selection of books, turning to each other every now and then with a comment or a question sparked by their reading. Dan has blushed and ducked his head a little when Phil had congratulated him, and they'd made plans to revise for their Charms exam together later that week.

It had been a really good day, Phil decided as he laid down to sleep that night. A really good day, indeed.

They talked a bit more often after that, then started spending more and more time together. Dan was the funniest person he’d ever met, he could always make Phil laugh, even when he was fighting down anxiety or when he’d had a really bad day. Phil felt blessed to get to know him at all.

They were brewing Amortentia, Professor Winkledge had said. It made Phil nervous.

He already knew what a correctly brewed Amortentia would smell like to him. Or at least, he knew who it would smell like. Still, when Dan turned to him with a little smile and a questioning look, Phil nodded. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to brew with Dan just because he had a little crush. He did take a few deep breaths in the potions ingredients cabinet to release all that nervous energy once he was out of sight, though.

Dan was diligent, and precise. He was really good at potions, and Phil was really good at spacing out watching how gracefully his hands sliced the asphodel roots. They prevailed, however, and ended up with a near-perfect potion by the end of the class that Phil had actually helped make, distractions and all. Phil was a little overwhelmed by the earthly oak scent, tinged with a hint of citrus and something sweet he couldn’t quite identify that was coming from their cauldron once they reached the final stage. But it wasn’t too bad, just a little distracting. It made him want to hug Dan, which made perfect sense, but would also be supremely weird, so he just settled for shifting his weight from one foot to another and putting his hands in the pockets of his robe in that backwards way his body naturally settled into. Some people thought it was weird, but Phil knew Dan wouldn’t mind it or ever tease him about it, except maybe good-naturedly.

Dan didn’t say what the potion smelled like to him, other than muttering “fresh”, and, oddly enough, “alive” when prompted. It had made Phil laugh.

The thing to break the mounting tension between them is, surprisingly, Charlie.

Phil was hanging out with Dan out in the grounds, close to the lake, as they sometimes did when the weather was nice, when Dan abruptly cut off his explanation on why he thought muggle technology should be incorporated to the Hogwarts curriculum and how magical folk could benefit from it. It only took Phil a moment to figure out why: Charlie was striding purposefully towards them, stopping right in front of Phil and ignoring Dan completely.

“Phil,” he declared, to Phil’s bewilderment and slight annoyance. He’d been fascinated by Dan’s commentary, and Dan was never annoyed or patronising when Phil asked questions about the muggle world, which meant Phil had already derailed Dan’s explanation half a dozen times, out of a deep curiosity for the subject matter. For all of Dan’s patience with him, he seemed significantly more short-tempered about this interruption.

Charlie cleared his throat and, continuing to ignore Dan standing right there, stared straight into Phil. “Phil, would you like to go to tomorrow’s Hogsmeade visit with me?”

Phil stared, incomprehensive.

“He’s already agreed to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow,” Dan jumped in to his rescue.

Charlie frowned, but didn’t turn to look at Dan when he spoke. “A date takes precedence over friends hanging out. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

Well, now that was rude, and uncomfortable. “No,” Phil said without meaning to. Or rather, he did mean it, but he’d rather have said it less bluntly. “I mean, that’s not-Dan and me are going-it’s a date. We’re going as a date. I’m sorry,” Phil blurted out.

“Oh,” Charlie finally turned to look at Dan as he said it. “Oh.” After another two or three long seconds that felt more like an hour to Phil, Charlie said, “Okay,” and promptly left.

Phil waited until he was out of sight, then cast a sound barrier, just in case.

“Um. Sorry, I didn’t-I shouldn’t have dragged you into that without asking first.”

Dan shook his head, dismissing Phil’s worries. But he looked thoughtful, so Phil braced for one of Dan’s sharp, insightful realisations.

“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?”

“Yeah?” Phil ventured, confused. “We’d already made plans to...”

“No, I mean…” Dan was blushing, dear Merlin, really blushing, his entire face was a light pink and one of his dimples was showing even though he wasn't even smiling, and it was the cutest thing Phil had ever seen in his life. “I mean, like a date. If you want. A real date, not just... to fool Charlie...” he trailed off.

Phil thought this is what a deer in the headlights must feel, except opposite. Like, the same feeling but with opposite tension. In that deer probably weren't eagerly looking forward to being run over.

“Yes?”

“Is that a question?” Dan was looking straight at him, despite his bright blush, head held high. Brave, a Gryffindor through and through.

“Yes.” Before Dan can ask if he means ‘yes, that was a question’, he barrelled on. “Yes, I’d really like to go on a date with you tomorrow, and also today, if you want. Like tonight. Or right now. Right now is good, we’re already here and this is a good place for a date, I think… Maybe I think any place is a good place for a date with you” Phil ended in a quiet voice, heart pounding with adrenaline and nerves, even as he could see the tension drain out of Dan like a physical presence, and the gorgeous smile he got in response made him smile back instinctively.

“Yeah?” Dan asked breathlessly, but it was rhetorical. When Dan reached out and took one of his hands in his, lacing their fingers and squeezing them lightly, Phil thought this was a whole new kind of magic he had never known before.

#phanfic #phan #hogwarts au #gryffindor!dan #hufflepuff!phil #am i writing now #Phanfic Events Spring Fic Exchange #amortentia smells a lot like plants to dan that's why he said 'alive'#also uh the dannie in me really jumped out in this fic huh #tbh at least 80% of my phanfic writing is just me raving about how much i love dnp so

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phanlight · 6 years

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The Boy on the Blue Moon Dreams of Sun

prompt: dan is a theatre kid who hasn't had his first kiss but has to kiss someone for a show. he doesn't want his first kiss to be wasted so he tries to get it done properly beforehand & he meets phil and w/e you can take it from there!!!

““Tell you what,” Phil leans into him, and Dan can smell his cologne. “We’re gonna come back up here again, okay? And you’re gonna tell me about yourself. Properly, this time.

Dan frowns. “Isn’t that what we’ve spent the past ten minutes doing?”

“Yeah,” Phil says. “The only difference being next time we do this, I’m going to ban you from saying the word ‘acting’. So I can hear about you, the real you, and not whoever you pretend to be for a living.”

GUESS WHICH BITCH IS BACK AND WRITING AGAIN (spoiler: IT ME)

I thought it was about time I branched out a bit and tried my hand at a theatre au. This was so much fun to write (albeit kinda hard as despite being a literature student my Romeo and Juliet knowledge is a little subpar lmao lets hope I at least sort of did it justice tho) and deffo has more than ur daily dosage of angsty teenage actor!dan so look forward to that. thank u to the lovely anon who prompted me with this! (also yes i’m still relying on ptv lyrics for my song titles after 3 years sh)

Also I’m sorry if the writing in this is a lil inconsistent. I started this fic literally over a year ago and abandoned it for ages before finding and continuing it again. The first half was written in literally like mid 2016 (from which point my writing has obv improved a lot) and since then I’ve been working on it sporadically so if it feels like halfway through my writing style suddenly changes then that’s why OOPS soz

This was not supposed to be this long im so sorry wtf 13k ??? fuks sake

It’s the first time Dan’s ever been pissed off with being cast a lead role in a play.

He usually loves it – he loves the attention, loves having a ripped up script full of highlighted lines and more soliloquies to memorise than he can even keep count of. He shines under the warmth of the spotlight, lapping up the attention like a hungry cat, and when the applause ripples throughout the audience at the end, he can’t get enough of the sound.

It’s just- well, there’s one problem with his part.

It’s nothing he has against Romeo, not necessarily, and the piece itself is okay – Dan’s copy of the popular play in question is already crumpled with annotations; small post-it notes spilling fluorescent colours out of every crease (studying English literature alongside Drama always comes in handy as far as Shakespeare is concerned) and Romeo has a decent amount to say.

The problem is, he’s going to have to kiss someone.

Dan Howell, the one who snaps up almost every single role he auditions for, the one with a clay personality that can be moulded perfectly into whatever role he’s going for next, the one who lives the stage and breathes the lights, who was once described as ‘the heart and soul’ of the local theatre, is going to have to kiss someone.

And believe it or not, Dan Howell, the same seventeen-year-old who breezes through auditions leaving a flutter of girls at his feet, the same guy who was once rumoured to have made out with three people at the Les Miserables afterparty and the same guy who once had to reject two people in one night, has never actually kissed anyone before. Not properly, anyway.

Granted, he’s been extremely close to it a fair few times – having been in and out of auditions and callbacks since the age of about five, he’s come into contact with a considerable number of roles that involve love interests; only last month was his character Eddie supposed to kiss the love of his life, Alexandra, in the back of a car at a drive-in cinema. It was a play that one of the drama students had written; set in the fifties, all red-and-white ice cream parlours and hand jives and high school dances and Marilyn Monroe posters. Dan had enjoyed playing his part, and not just because it was the only opportunity he’d get to sport a black leather jacket (though he did decide leather looked really quite hot on him after that play. It’s almost a shame he’s vegetarian), but because the minor obstacle could, like every single other time, be solved with a stage kiss. Just a few seconds of his back to the audience, being agonisingly close to someone else’s lips, before pulling away and raking though his mind to try and remember the next line. It’s always worked for him, every time.

Except for this. Because the director, a Lucy Howcroft with a loud voice and a bossy personality, has only gone and booked them the Round at the Old Vic theatre. Which would be fine, of course it would; it’s one of the most popular theatres in the city and the theatre group is going to get a huge reputation for this afterwards, but it’s not so handy as far as stage-kissing is concerned. When you’re being stared at from every angle three-hundred-and-sixty degrees around, there’s no way you can get away with only partially leaning in to kiss.

“Are you sure there’s no way around this?” Dan had insisted when he’d stolen a moment after rehearsal to talk to Lucy. She’d been clearing her desk – a papery mountain range, and had looked a bit too busy to talk, but Dan would rather discuss this with her one-on-one instead of having to voice his feelings with twenty other pairs of eyes staring at him.

“For someone who just bagged yet another lead role, I would’ve thought you’d be a little more gracious than this,” Lucy had muttered, snapping a file shut. “I didn’t have to cast you, y’know.”

“It’s not- I am grateful, you know I am, it’s just-“

“Is there a problem with the casting of Juliet?” she’d offered, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Dan had insisted. “She’s fine.”

“The costume, then?” she’d tried. “I’m not a bloody mind reader, Dan. Help me out a bit here.”

Dan had shut his eyes and taken a deep breath, trying to comb the tangle of words in his head into some kind of coherent sentence.

“I mean- I just- the venue,” he gulped. “It’s- there’s a bit of a problem.”

“What about it?” Lucy sighed, irritation tracing the edges of her tone. “I fail to see what’s so problematic about getting a slot at the Old Vic of all places, but if you have any objections, then do enlighten me.”

“It’s not that, it’s just-“ Dan gulped, not really too sure how far he’s going to get with this. The bitterness already in her tone didn’t sound at all promising. “I don’t know. Do we have to perform in the round?”

“Christ, is performing in one of the most popular theatres in London that much of a chore?”

“No, no, I just-“ he gulped, trying to work out how the hell he’d word this without sounding like a twat. “I’ve never really… you know. Performed in an environment like that before.”

“You’ve been acting for twelve years,” she said bluntly. “I’m sure you have enough experience to be able to deal with a round stage instead of a rectangular one.”

“But- like, isn’t the round meant for- like… you know, Greek plays and shit?”

“It used to be,” she’d said, taking care to apply extra emphasis on the past tense. “Since when were you so hung up on the traditions of theatre, anyway?” she’d added after a pause. “Only last week were you totally in favour of the idea of having a rap battle in the middle of Othello.”

Dan had frowned, because that wasn’t really fair – sure, a rap battle isn’t exactly a common feature of Shakespeare’s plays, but no one could deny that Louis, playing Iago, was pretty good at freestyling whenever a mic was thrown in his direction. Despite not adhering to the conventions of traditional English theatre, it certainly made the play more entertaining.

“It’s just gonna be- you know. It’s gonna take some getting used to,” he’d mumbled instead.

“You have three months to get used to it,” she’d pointed out. “I’m sure you and the rest of the cast will have familiarised yourself with it by the time the production comes around.”

“But- the round is traditionally meant for-“

“Look, if you’re going to get so archaic about it, I can always build a time machine, book the open-air Globe for, like, sometime four-hundred years ago, and you can spend the next three days picking rotten tomatoes out of your hair,” she said. “Does that sound better?”

“They only did that to bad actors,” Dan had pointed out. Lucy rolled her eyes.

“And you know what makes a good actor, Dan?” she retorted. “Flexibility. The willingness to branch out of your comfort zone.”

Dan had sighed. He’s not going to get anywhere with this, is he?

“You know what?” he’d finally shaken his head, defeated. “Forget it.”

She watched him turn on his heel with a raised eyebrow. “See you Tuesday, then? First read-through of the script is at eleven in the morning.”

“See you then,” Dan muttered, not even bothering to turn around.

He let the door slam behind him.

It’s not that Dan doesn’t want to kiss anyone – (quite the contrary, really. He loves the idea of it, loves the thought of someone’s lips pressed up against his, the world slowing down around them and his heart feeling like fire. He’s always tried to incorporate that feeling into his acting, letting his passion leak into every character he’s cast, but when the stage lights are off and the curtain is down, his attraction to his colleagues ends there) – it’s just- well, he doesn’t really think he’s found the right person to share the real experience with, yet. His fellow actors and actresses aren’t unattractive by any means, but he doesn’t look at any of them and find himself struck by the desire to taste their lips and whisper incoherence into their ears like Eddie was supposed to do in the back of that car.

Seventeen, and still hasn’t had his first kiss. Still doesn’t want to waste it, at that.

Pathetic.

Technicians don’t get paid enough, Phil thinks.

He’s spent the day holed up in the trap room, devouring what was left in the back of the fridge (including a half-opened pack of Doritos that tasted like they expired about five years ago) and puzzling over this fucking broken light board that everyone had very kindly left him to take care of. It had already taken him over half an hour to get one of the chunky old Mac laptops up and running again (seriously, who in this day and age is still using an iBook?) and even then it only really half-functions – a handful of keys are missing, the trackpad only ever seems to work when it feels like it, and there’s a huge hairline crack right across the screen. Phil’s spent so long cursing through gritted teeth and smacking the table in frustration every time the damn thing freezes that it wouldn’t come as a surprise if he ended up contributing to those cracks by the end of the day. Maybe that’s how they ended up there in the first place.

“You alright?” the door suddenly opens and a voice – Nick, Phil presumes, breaks the aching silence that the room has been blanketed in for the past four hours. Finally, Phil sighs, feeling a pinch of anger melt away. Human company.

“Been better,” Phil mumbles, popping a couple of grapes into his mouth. Been better, he scoffs to himself. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t been worse.

“Chuck me a coke, will you?” he pulls up a chair and puts his feet on it, perching on the edge of the table. Phil heaves out a sigh – that involves getting up – but musters up enough energy to lean over and yank the fridge open. He tosses him a can, and Nick catches it expertly.

“Nice of you to show up,” Phil rolls his eyes. “Only four hours late this time. That’s an hour and a half off your personal best.”

“They said they didn’t need me here ‘till three,” he protests, popping the can open and taking a few gulps. “They said you had it all under control.”

His sentence is punctuated by a burp. Phil grimaces.

“Under control,” Phil snorts. That’ll be the fucking day.

“What did they leave you here to do?” he frowns.

“Only fix this entire fucking thing,” Phil nods over to the stupid light board. God, he’s sick of the sight of it. “Beats me what’s wrong with it. I’ve only just managed to get this dinosaur up and running,” he gestures to the corpse of a laptop in front of him, “let alone look at that.”

“Fuck me, man,” Nick sighs out a heavy breath. “If I knew, I could have come in earlier to help you out a bit. You should have texted me.”

“It’s fine,” Phil sighs even though- well, it’s not, really. There’s only so many hours of broken technology and out-of-date food one can take. “It’s not your fault,” he adds truthfully.

“They’re twats sometimes, aren’t they?” Nick lowers his voice, despite the fact they’re literally underground here, beneath the earshot of everyone.

“I’ll say,” Phil widens his eyes, trying to click something and- nope, it’s fucking frozen again. “For fuck’s sake. They’re all bloody loaded, too. You would have thought with the money they have, they could fork out a little for equipment that at least half-functions, right?”

“Yup,” Nick sighs. “Guess bookings for overpriced fancy-ass theatres are higher up on their agenda, though.”

Phil can’t argue with that. Apparently they’re going to have to wire up something in the Old Vic, of all places, next week. Phil dreads to think how much hiring that place out for even a few hours is going to cost, let alone booking it for three nights.

Probably more than enough to buy a better fucking laptop.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.

Be not her maid since she is envious.

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but-“

“No- no,” Lucy holds up her hand. “Come on, Dan. More emotion than that. You’re telling the love of your life that even the moon is envious of her beauty. At least pretend to put some passion into it.”

Dan rolls his eyes – only the fourth time he’s had to repeat this fucking soliloquy in the past fifteen minutes. He’s pretty sure he’s only one “no, no, it’s too (insert adjective here)” away from giving up with this whole thing altogether. He’d rather have played Benvolio anyway.

“Come on,” Lucy continues. “We’ll take it from Be not her maid…”

Dan shuts his eyes, scrapes up the remaining traces of his sanity, and takes another breath.

“Be not her maid since she is envious.

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off!

It is my lady. Oh, it is my love.

Oh, that she knew she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?

Her eye discourses. I will answer it.—

I am too bold. 'Tis not to me she speaks.

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

Having some business, do entreat her eyes

To twinkle in their spheres till they retur-“

“No, no-“ she interrupts him again and for fuck’s sake, at this rate, Dan won’t even need to spend any time in his bedroom going over his lines. He’s pretty sure he’s memorised half of the monologues already just from recapping in rehearsals alone.

“Come on, really feel it,” she pleads. “You can’t say something as romantic as that with a face like yours – you’re literally saying that two stars in the sky have gone away and they’re asking Juliet’s eyes to shine in their place until they return.”

Dan balls his fists, ready to snap back that yes, he’s fully fucking aware of what’s going on in the play thank you very much, in case she hadn’t forgotten he did actually study it for three separate exams and subsequent exposure to the text in question has made him rather familiar with the occurrences currently taking place, but they’re all interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Lucy huffs, mildly irritated.

The door knob jitters, then twists.

“Hiya,” a black-haired boy nods tiredly, pushing through the crack in the door. Dan immediately recognises him – one of the tech guys, he thinks, but he isn’t entirely certain. He’s never really spoken to any of the crew before; they tend to keep well out of the limelight (they’d rather control it instead).

“Everything okay?” Lucy asks, before turning to Dan and Alexandra (his Juliet). “You two, take five. Be ready to take it from the top.”

They both relax and take a seat on one of the upturned wooden boxes. It isn’t until Dan takes the weight off of his legs he realises how much they’ve been aching – fuck, he really needs to get back to that gym.

“Any luck?” she says to Mr. Black-Hair. He’s holding a laptop that looks as if it’s seen better years, never mind days, and a long cord of wire that snakes around his fist.

“Nothing at all,” he sighs, flicking a strand of his fringe out of his eyes. His hair looks as if it hasn’t seen a hairbrush for days, but there’s something about the way it sits shaggily on his head that kind-of suits him (Dan wishes he could pull off messy hair – he only attempted ditching the straighteners once and spent the rest of the day wondering if any birds had mistaken his head for a nest).

He doesn’t realise he’s been staring until he catches the tail end of Alexandra’s sentence and realises he hasn’t actually been listening for the past minute or so.

“What was that, sorry?”

“I asked you how you were finding Romeo so far,” she repeats.

“Hm? Oh yeah, yeah- he’s fine,” Dan says, not taking his eyes off of Mr. Black-Hair. He’s lost the thread of their conversation (he’s no lip reader) but by the looks of it, it seems as if there’s a problem with one of the laptops.

“Are you sure?” Alexandra frowns. Dan looks at her, but his glance is soon pulled back to the technician.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugs. “You don’t really- I don’t know, you just don’t seem to be… you know. That into it, y’know?”

“Wait-“ Dan shakes his head, trying to focus on their conversation instead of the one a few metres away from. “Hang on- what? What makes you say that?”

She raises her eyebrows, as if to say ‘really?’. Dan’s expression remains carefully blank.

“Come on, Dan. We wouldn’t have had to repeat this stupid scene like, five times if you were actually into it. I’ve seen you do way better than this.”

“Oh, not you as well,” Dan groans, deflating. He’s pretty sure that exact sentence had fallen from Lucy’s lips not so long ago. He’s sick of hearing it, sick of having to sit and listen to people tell him that he ‘can do way better’ and ask ‘is everything all right, Dan? Nothing bothering you, is there?’ because he’s just ‘not himself’ at the moment.

That’s the most ridiculous one, he thinks, because for Christ’s sake, he’s an actor. He’s never himself.

“No, I don’t mean it like that,” Alexandra says, backtracking. “You know I don’t. I just- I think I overheard Lucy say you had a problem with something or other last week?”

“Did you,” Dan mumbles, unable to keep the bitter sarcasm out of his town. Alexandra remains unfazed.

“What was that about, though?” she remains unfazed. “Nothing to do with the casting, is it?”

“You really think it’s to do with the casting?” Dan stares at her in disbelief, before scoffing. “Yeah, like, I’m gutted to have bagged the lead role alongside you at one of the best theatres in the country. How am I going to cope?”

Not entirely truthful, but not a complete lie either.

“Just making sure,” a grin tugs at her lips, and she flicks a curl of red hair behind her shoulders. “I don’t have much of a problem with it myself, to be honest.”

“That’s reassuring,” Dan smirks sarcastically, but his tone is fairly benign. There’s certainly no denying she’s fucking gorgeous and it’s really no wonder she’s Juliet – she has hair the colour of a sunset falling down her back in ruby curls, emerald eyes framed by a curl of long eyelashes and cherry red lips that stretch into a wide smile whenever Dan cracks a joke, giving way to a small dimple on the side of her cheek. Her skin is pale, the colour of moonlight, almost, and he idly thinks, just for a fleeting second, that the moon probably would be jealous of her. She’s beautiful.

“Certainly don’t have a problem with getting to snog you in front of a thousand people, I must be honest,” she adds, and Dan’s stomach drops and his grin vanishes. Shit.

He wrings out a laugh, internally wincing at how false it sounds. “Yeah, I- um-“

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” someone mutters a few footsteps away from them. He snaps his head up, and Lucy plus Mr. Black-Hair are hunched over the desk, clearly getting nowhere with the absolute disaster they call an iBook.

“Wait- what’s the problem?” Dan suddenly gets up. He feels a little bad for leaving Alexandra so abruptly so he throws her a little apologetic ‘be right back’ glance, but he can’t help it – he might actually be able to help, here.

He shoves down the other voice in the back of his mind, the ‘or rather you’re just grabbing at any opportunity to avoid any potential conversation about the kiss you fucking wimp’

“It’s okay, Dan, sit back down. I’ll be with you both in a second,” Lucy calls over her shoulder.

“No, really,” Dan insists. “I know a thing or two about Macs. I have one myself, and-“ he catches Lucy drawing in a breath, ready to protest, and he regrets the spill of words almost as soon as they come out – fuck, why can’t he just keep his mouth shut? – but Mr. Black-Hair turns around, an eyebrow quirked upwards.

“Really?” his stare is the colour of ice, the sky on a December morning, but it’s weirdly warm at the same time.

“I- uh, yeah,” Dan stutters when he remembers how to talk again. “I’ve always had Macs. They’re great when they decide to work, but they can be a bitch when they begin to act up, and-“ he cuts himself off with an awkward shrug, “yeah.”

“Tell me about it,” the technician smirks. “This bastard-” he nods to the chunky white rectangle in his arms, “took me like, half an hour to boot up alone. And now it’s been frozen for like- twice as long as that. I’ve only had chance to type in my password so far.”

Lucy’s still standing in the middle of them and it’s getting a bit difficult to ignore the stony glare burning into Dan’s peripheral vision right now and even harder to avoid eye contact with her, but it doesn’t stop him from offering some help, albeit rather inappropriately timed.

“I- um, have my MacBook with me if that helps?” Dan offers, trying not to feel the heat of his blush when Mr. Black-Hair looks straight at him. “I mean- if you don’t need it that’s fine, but like- it’ll function a bit better than that thing,” he shrugs. “I dunno. It would probably save you a lot of time.”

“Really?” he raises an eyebrow. “Like, with you right now?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “I mean – I haven’t got my charger on me, but it’s on, like, eighty percent. Should be fine.”

“I mean-“ he throws a permission-seeking glance, towards Lucy, who Dan is pretty sure would be having steam coming out of her ears would it be humanly possible. She fixes Dan with a hard stare, a real ‘go on; be my guest’ look that’s always comes across as more of a dare than permission, a challenge for his conscience, but he can’t help an apologetic smile tugging at his lips.

“It’s cool with you, right?” his lips say before his mind catches up.

Lucy rolls her eyes in defeat. “If you absolutely must. But only- only because I could do with the extra time to independently go over one of Alexandra’s soliloquy.”

His face breaks out into a grin, and he’s not that sure why. “Thanks, Luce. I owe you one.”

“Don’t you make a habit of this, though. Remember; this is your own rehearsal time you’re sacrificing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dan calls over his shoulder, trailing off. Mr. Black-Hair holds the door open behind him, and suddenly they’re out of the rehearsal studio and walking in a weird mutual silence sitting in a strange middle ground between comfortable and uncomfortable, across the car park and over to the actual theatre.

“Are you alright to do this, yeah?” Mr. Black-Hair (Dan seriously needs to come up with more imaginative mental nicknames for people) breaks the silence on their walk down to the trap room.

“It’s no problem at all,” he smirks as another wooden step groans under his foot. “Anything to get out of rehearsal.”

Dan’s never really been here before, never touched the underground territory where the technicians lurked, but there’s something about the atmosphere of this place that grips him.

Half an hour passes, and Dan couldn’t really tell you why he’s still sitting down here, still sitting on a revolving chair with a rip in the upholstery, under half-broken beams, tables that look like they’re seconds away from collapsing, and a lot of weird technology that he’d never even attempt to get his head around (seriously – do they even need this many buttons?). He’d given his laptop to Black Hair to receive a very emphatic ‘thank you, like seriously you’re a fucking lifesaver if I spent a second longer with that piece of shit I really don’t know what I would have done’ and the job had been done in seconds. Since then, a casual conversation had been struck up and Dan finds he doesn’t actually want to go back upstairs just yet.

“You two sounded really good in there,” Black Hair comments. They’d been talking about the play. “From what I heard, anyway.”

“Thanks,” Dan says, trying to ignore the quiet blush that warms his cheeks. There’s nothing quite like someone complimenting his acting. “Clearly not good enough for Lucy, though.”

“Few things are, Dan,” he sighs, and Dan only finds it half-weird that this guy knows his name, but Dan doesn’t actually know his. It’s unnerving, sure, but nothing he’s a stranger to. “She’s been on at you all morning.”

“Yeah,” Dan pauses, before adding an apologetic “sorry, I- um, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“It’s fine. I’m Phil,” he grins, and Dan thanks his lucky stars there’s finally a name to put to the face.

Dan studies him briefly, and frowns. “You do look familiar, actually.”

“Yeah – I do all the donkey work downstairs,” he grins. “You may have seen me emerge from the cave every now and then.”

Dan chuckles, deciding there and then that he likes Phil.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” Dan asks, studying the square lights looming above them, one of which he notices is stuttering slightly, flickering on and off every now and then.

Phil shrugs, not taking his eyes off of the screen. “Kinda. But I mean – I have my little crew down here, y’know? There’s five of us. We just like- keep each other company. Help each other whenever we need to,” he glances at Dan. “Oh, and sneak up to the theatre and watch you guys every now and then.”

Dan giggles. “Brilliant. Must be a nice little community, though.”

“Yeah, it is,” Phil hesitates. “Or perhaps ‘support group’ might be a more appropriate term. For the poor sods who have to put up with shitty laptops and gross food.”

Dan laughs, and helps himself to another Dorito.

“Okay, right- Dan, sorry if this sounds a bit weird because- like, we’ve pretty much only just met, but like- um- I was wondering if you wanted to-“

“Phil,” Dan cuts him off. As an actor, there’s something about hearing people stutter and ramble without really saying anything that tends to grate on him. “I’d love to.”

“Really? Well, I-“ Phil stops and frowns. “Hang on a second. How did you know I was gonna ask you to hang out?”

Dan shrugs like he hasn’t spent the last thirteen years mastering the sciences of body language and speech and how they can be applied to the acting world. “Lucky guess, I suppose.”

Phil smiles. “I mean- would you? Like, really?”

“Of course,” Dan says.

“Well yeah, like- I don’t have to be home for a while yet, and I have a car so we could just like- drive around for a bit? Go to town if you want?”

Dan smiles, and repeats what he said before he even knew what Phil was going to say.

“Yeah. I’d love to.”

It’s a bit of a weird result to come out of lending his laptop to a stranger for a while, but it’s how Dan finds himself spending the evening sat in the passenger seat on the top of a car park roof, blasting some weird indie song from the depth of Phil’s Spotify and watching the sun sink further behind the buildings, painting the sky warmer with every slow minute that passes on the dashboard clock.

They’d had a drive around the city together, sometimes talking, sometimes letting lulls in the conversation give way to thoughtful silences, both of them tapping away to Phil’s music taste, but Dan thinks it’s been about fifteen minutes since either of them last said anything.

“So,” Phil is the first to break the silence. He flicks the last of his cigarette out of the window (Dan had insisted on rolling down the windows before he did that – there’s no way he’s going home stinking of an ashtray). “Tell me about yourself.”

Dan looks up from his phone at that, his heart thudding.

“You what?”

“You know,” Phil’s gaze doesn’t move, his eyes fixed on the view in front of the windscreen. They’d picked a spot at the very top of a multi-storey car park overlooking everything, leaving the city a pool of lights and colours and life far beneath them. “I don’t really know you. So tell me about yourself.”

“I- um-“ Dan gulps. This wasn’t really a question he came prepared for. He shrugs. “I don’t really know what there is to tell, if I’m honest.”

“Oh, now come on,” Phil presses. “Just- anything. Your hobbies. Your life. Your dreams. What you want to be when you’re older.”

“I feel like I’m in a bloody job interview,” Dan chuckles. Phil’s lips quirk upwards in response.

“You are. I’m interviewing you to see if you’re fit for the job of being mates with me.”

“The ‘job’?” Dan frowns. “Like it’s a chore?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Phil grins. “Now, come on. I wanna hear about you.”

Dan gulps, silence falling for the first time in a while.

“I- um, well I think my hobby is probably pretty obvious, for a start,” Dan begins. Phil rolls his eyes. “And what I wanna be when I’m older, too. I’m gonna do a degree in Drama, I reckon.”

“What else are you into, then?”

Dan stops for a second. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Phil presses, flicking his lighter and sparking up another cigarette. “You must have other interests besides acting. You got a girlfriend?”

Dan clams up. “Um- no.”

“Oh. Boyfriend, then?” he quirks his eyebrows, and Dan shakes his head miserably.

“Afraid not.”

“Glad we established that,” Phil smirks, but Dan doesn’t really smile back.

He chews on the inside of his lip, having a staring contest with a pair of headlights sliding across one of the roads beneath them.

“What music are you into, then?”

Dan swallows, trying to think. It’s like someone’s scraped over his mind with an eraser, rubbing out his interests and his life and his personality, all pencilled in with weak lines.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs. “This and that. I like whatever this is,” he nods to the Spotify track on Phil’s phone. “Bit of Indie, it’s good. Oh, and I love- what are they called? Pink Floyd?”

“Floyd’s good,” Phil agrees. “And Nirvana.”

“Yeah,” Dan gulps, feeling another silence probe the conversation.

“You into the Smashing Pumpkins?”

Dan shakes his head.

“Oh, okay. Slaves?”

Dan shakes his head again.

“Genesis?”

“Never even heard of them.”

“Cobalt Night?”

Dan shakes his head again

Phil cackles. “Oh Christ. You do realise I made that last band up?”

“Oh god,” Dan can feel his cheeks burn peony. “I’m not doing myself any favours here, am I?”

“Don’t worry, I’m only messing with you,” Phil says. “I think it would be more embarrassing if you said yes, to be honest.”

“True,” Dan shrugs, feeling Phil’s stare burn into his side profile. He sits back further in his seat, keeping his stare.

“You’re not really into much, are you?

Dan shrugs.

“I’m more into Musical Theatre, really. Ever since we did a production of Hamilton I haven’t really been able to get that rap out of my head,” he chuckles.

“Right,” Phil sits up a little bit and clears his throat. “Well we’ve established your music taste and your hobby. Who are your favourite actors, then?”

It’s like someone’s flicked a switch inside Dan. His eyes light up.

“-and Leonardo DiCaprio, oh my God, don’t even get me started on him. I mean- who wouldn’t fuck young Leo? Have you even seen him in Titanic? And Romeo and Juliet too, Jesus Christ he’s gorgeous. He’s so fucking gorgeous. I’m not gonna do Romeo’s role any justice when he’s my competition, am I?”

Phil just nods and says the odd ‘hm’, listening to Dan’s stream of consciousness.

“-and Helena Bonham-Carter, what a fucking legend, man. She’s just- her character is just so versatile, you know? I mean- there’s a good reason she’s in literally everything, and that’s because she’s fucking amazing- have you seen Fight Club? You must have seen it, it’s incredible. She’s incredible. It’s a bit of a mind fuck if I’m honest, what with the split personality thing and everything, but- oh God, Brad Pitt is so good in it too. And he’s pretty hot, I’m not gonna lie. Well, until he grew out his hair and looked a bit like a farmer. But- where was I? Oh yeah, Helena Bonham Carter-”

“She was good in Sweeney Todd, too,” Phil comments, and he’s off again.

“-like, that was the first time I ever saw Johnny Depp act, and by Christ that film creeped me out. I mean- I was only like, seven when I watched it so of course it was gross, like, what seven year old watches people do- you know, that, to paying customers? I feel sorry for the poor sods who just went in there wanting to give their beards a trim. But- yeah, they were both really good in Sweeney Todd. I had a bit of a crush on Helena- and Johnny too, for that matter, I mean come on, who didn’t? But then I found out Johnny Depp is a bit of a dick in real life so I went off him after that. But Helena’s still cool, obviously.”

“She’s good, yeah,” Phil nibbles at a protruding hangnail on his thumb.

“And- oh god, who’s another good actor? Oh, don’t even get me started on Morgan Freeman. Absolute fucking legend. Like, oh my god. Him and that other one- god, what’s his name? The guy from Donnie Darko?”

Dan’s brain is moving far too quickly for Phil to keep up and he has no idea what the correlation between Morgan Freeman and Donnie Darko is, but he gives it a shot anyway.

“Jake Gyllenhaal?”

“Yes. Yes, oh my god, that’s the one,” Dan’s face breaks out into a grin. “Fuck, Donnie Darko. What a film, man. My friend has a tattoo of it, and-“

It continues like this, Dan chatting nineteen-to-the-dozen and Phil counting the glitters of passion in his eyes, before they’re both interrupted by a buzzing on Dan’s lap.

“Oh shit,” he grabs his phone. “It’s my mum.”

Phil doesn’t know what she’s saying on the other end of the line, but judging by Dan’s apologies it sounds like he’s stayed out here for a little too long.

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles, tugging on his seatbelt. “Lost track of time a bit, there.”

“Clearly,” Phil grins.

“This was good, though,” Dan says. “Like, really good. Thanks for, you know. Suggesting this.”

“Tell you what,” Phil leans into him, and Dan can smell his cologne. “We’re gonna come back up here again soon, okay? And you’re gonna tell me about yourself. Properly, this time.

Dan frowns. “Isn’t that what I’ve spent the past like- hour doing?” he glances at the clock and shit, has it really been that long? It’s pitch black outside, the only light coming from the glitter of the city beneath them (shit, it really is beautiful from up here) and he was supposed to be home forty-five minutes ago.

“Yeah,” Phil says, starting up the engine. “The only difference being next time we do this, I’m going to ban you from saying the word ‘acting’. So I can hear about you, the real you, and not whoever you pretend to be for a living.”

The next few days pass in a blur of line-learning, enduring Lucy’s lectures about how he just ‘isn’t putting enough ‘oomph’ into it, come on now, we’ll take it from the top one more time’ and Dan has to act like he actually gives more of a shit about what Romeo’s saying right now than what Phil had said in that car a few days ago. He has to act like it isn’t what he’d been reciting over and over in his mind, the words digging grooves into the back of his mind and making themselves at home.

He has to act like there’s more to his fucking life than acting.

The next time Dan sees Phil, they’re both cooped up in a control room eating lunch in a companionable silence; Dan going over his lines and Phil puzzling over these two wires that are, according to him, sly bastards that won’t fucking go in these holes Jesus Christ, to which Dan had shut his eyes and prayed to god no-one outside the room had caught that out of context. There’s a huge control panel, rows and rows of buttons and sound mixers and, as Dan had very accurately christened them, “slidey-things” in front of them. He has no idea what any of this stuff is, no idea what a “cross-fader” is or what the hell a “submaster” is supposed to do, but every now and then Phil will casually lean over and flick a switch or press a button and a stage light beneath them will change.

“What’s up?”

Dan looks up from his script. He’s been poring over his lines for so long he’s pretty sure stripes of yellow highlighter are now permanently inked into the back of his mind, now.

“What? Nothing.”

Phil swings his legs off of the bar they’d been resting against. They’re halfway through sharing a KitKat (Dan had taken a trip down to the Co-op at the beginning of the lunch break and returned with a bag so heavy with food it had left a dent in his hand, insisting Phil can’t be living on stale crisps his entire life) and watching a rehearsal, one Dan doesn’t have to be in for once, through a pane of glass.

“You’re going to have to do better if you want to convince me, Mr. Theatre Kid,” Phil reaches over to the bowl in front of them and plucks a grape from the stem. “I thought you were good at acting.”

“What do you want me to do; leap up and perform a jig?” Dan turns a page, the paper rustling a bit too loudly. “I’m fine, Phil. Stop reading into things too much.”

Phil stares at him. “You’re sat there with a face as long as my leg, and I’m reading into things?” he quirks an eyebrow. “Be careful. If you stare at that page any longer it’ll probably burst into flames.”

“Shut up,” Dan mutters, the edge in his voice a little too sharp for it to slip by as a joke.

Phil does.

Dan sighs. “Sorry, I just-“

“Rehearsals getting to you?” he suggests softly. Dan doesn’t plan on letting the real problem slip; Christ, he can only imagine the havoc that would ensue if it got around that as well as obsessing over acting he’s also never actually kissed anyone, so he quickly takes Phil up on that.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I mean- Romeo’s a good character to play, I guess, but he does have an awful lot to say.”

“You’ll be okay,” Phil reassures him. “You still have months of time left to memorise your lines. When’s the play?”

“Seventh of February,” Dan says. Two months from now.

“There we go,” Phil says. “You have plenty of time yet.”

“I guess so,” Dan shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve done this millions of times before,” Phil says. “You’ll be fine; I know you will. You’re a natural.”

Dan wishes he knew the half, he really does, but there’s just something about Phil’s smile that makes him almost want to believe him.

Dan manages to tell Phil a little bit more about himself next time they’re on the roof together, and in return, he learns a bit about Phil too.

“Well, when I was acti-“

“Nuh-uh,” Phil interrupts him. “No acting talk, remember?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “It’s relevant to what I was gonna say. It’s an important part of the story.”

“Wherever the hell you can fit acting into a story about you and your friends getting drunk and stealing a supermarket trolley because you couldn’t afford a taxi, I’d be very impressed.”

“You’d be surprised,” Dan grins, and that was the only time acting came into conversation that night.

Dan learns Phil is eighteen, that he’d failed his driving test three times before passing because he was driving on the wrong side of the dual carriageway, and swears he’s going to give up smoking next year, he promises. He learns that his favourite colour is blue because he likes the way the colour skates across the ocean water in the summer, and that he used to be scared of dogs before his parents got him a puppy for Christmas, a bouncy Labrador called Daisy with a love for the sun and walks down to the beach.

“I fucking love dogs,” Dan beams.

“So do I, now. Took me long enough,” Phil agrees, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Daisy’s so cute, oh my god. You will love her.”

Dan doesn’t say anything, but there’s something about the definite use of ‘you will’ that he likes.

He, in turn, finds that he does have some thoughts and feelings and dreams hidden away in there, beneath the façade of scripts and stage lights and acting. He finds he does have stuff to say, stuff that isn’t always attached to a web stringing back to the theatre. He tells Phil all about his cat, Ozzy (a little shit who takes great pleasure in knocking all his belongings off of his desk and sleeping on his laptop, but he loves him anyway) his annoying next-door neighbours who don’t seem to see any problem with blasting ABBA at three in the morning, and they manage to find common bands they both like. Oasis is playing when the sun sinks, the sky darkens, and the city lights up beneath them.

“God, I love this one,” Phil mumbles, his speech obscured by the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Don’t Look Back In Anger. It’s one of their best.”

“Oh god, yeah,” Dan agrees, tapping along to the chorus. “That and Stand By Me. Oh god, and Champagne Supernova, too.”

Phil grins at that, and leans forward, picking his phone up from the dashboard. Before Dan has a chance to question him, the chorus stops dead in its tracks, and an acoustic softness follows the sudden silence, a series of guitar chords that are just that bit too familiar. He grins.

“I always think the intro sounds a bit like Wonderwall,” Phil comments, putting his phone down and leaning back in the seat.

“Yeah,” Dan sighs, leaning back in his own seat and turning his gaze to the city beneath them, staring at lights and roads and buildings until they pool into a hazy amber blur in his vision.

How many special people change,

How many lives are living strange,

Where were you while we were getting high?

Slowly walking down the hall,

Faster than a cannonball

Where were you while we were getting high?

Someday you will find me,

Caught beneath the landslide,

In a champagne supernova in the sky.

Someday you will find me,

Caught beneath the landslide,

In a champagne supernova;

A champagne supernova in the sky.

They don’t say anything, instead letting Liam Gallagher do the talking, but sly glances are exchanged from under brown fringes and black eyelashes.

“Nice up here, isn’t it?”

It’s only until Phil breaks the silence they’ve lapsed into that Dan realises the song has drawn to a close. He slides his gaze from the city and over to Phil, over to his thoughtful stare skating along the skyline, the ruffled sweep of black hair coating his fringe, and the orange glow of a cigarette tip poking out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes flicker over to Dan’s.

Dan looks back over to the city.

“Yeah.”

“I always come up here.”

“I can see why.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes a little look over the city is just what you need to clear your head. It just puts everything in perspective, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dan swallows. “It really does.”

There’s a litter of thoughts and worries in his mind, buried deep and multiplying with every day that drags past, every day that pulls him closer and closer to the production, to the hundreds of burning stares in the audience seats, to his colleague’s lips. He’s been longing for a break from it. Just a few hours of silence, a few quiet moments that don’t have to be spent combing over every single thought in his head, thinking and thinking until it inflates into anxiety, spilling into the pit of his stomach and clawing at the edges as it goes.

And the more he counts the city lights, the more he feels the cold night air stroke his cheeks and the engines reverberating around the car park levels beneath them, the more he reckons a more few nights up here. It’s the remedy he needs; just him, Phil and the lights.

Their eyes meet seconds after, and Dan can feel the question he’s vowed to ask Phil before the end of the night already beginning to rest on his lips, on the cusp of speech.

“When can we do this again?”

The late nights begin to pass more frequently in a spinning blur of city nights, passenger seats and conversations, all whispers and cold air and stolen glances. Dan can feel himself unravelling like a threadbare blanket, his carefully constructed personas and characters fraying at the edges with every hour spent up on the top of the city with a boy whose lips spill truths like water, and it isn’t long until Dan finds cracks in his paper personalities and begins to feel more and more honesty begin to seep through. He finds that no, he doesn’t have to spin false anecdotes like cotton and lie about his interests and find a way of linking everything back to acting, hooking every little quirk and element to his personality back to the stage. He doesn’t have to impress Phil with his knowledge of Hollywood throughout the years and he doesn’t have to act like he loves things he’s never actually heard of and he doesn’t have to lock his feelings away and throw away the key.

He doesn’t have to pretend.

It’s all okay until they fall onto the topic of previous relationships.

It’s been a good night. They’d visited the car park again, but this time without the car (it was warm enough to leave it in the driveway and make their own way up the concrete staircases, glass bottles in plastic bags clinking around their legs). They’d situated themselves in the very same parking space, the one second to the right and next to a beacon, but they’d traded car seats for a picnic blanket, headlights for phone torches and gear sticks for bottle openers.

“Yeah, like- fuck, she wasn’t a good kisser at all, was Mary. I mean- we were in year nine and she tried, bless her, and God knows so did I. But you know, with that as my first impression of kissing, when it was over I was like ‘what the fuck is all the fuss about?’” Phil chuckles, and Dan pretends to grin.

“Yeah, I mean-“ he shrugs, staring down at his lap. “I’ve had my fair share of bad kisses in my time.”

The ease with which the lie rolls off of his tongue almost takes him by surprise. It’s been a while since he’s lied about himself to Phil, and it feels strange.

“I can imagine,” Phil says, before frowning. “But you’re an actor. So you must be an excellent kisser, right? What with all the practice you guys have.”

Dan frowns, looking up from his bottle. “You what?”

“Oh come on. I saw what went on in the back of that car last term. Eddie and Alexandra. That play involved more lip-on-lip action than the fucking Notebook.”

Dan smiles at that, remembering the play adaptation they actually did of that when he was in year ten. He doesn’t quite know whether to laugh or cry over the sheer amount of starring roles he’s had that are heavily eloped in some kind of romantic storyline.

“Us actors have our techniques,” he says carefully.

Phil’s eyes widen at that. “You do? Like what?”

Dan shrugs, taking another sip of beer. “Oh, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Phil shuffles closer, a flicker of eagerness in his cerulean stare and shit, Dan’s beginning to regret opening his mouth now. “Come on. What techniques do you have? I could use a few tips myself.”

Dan raises an eyebrow, his eyes firmly locked onto the spread of amber lights in front of them.

“I doubt you’d ever want to use these kinds of techniques on anyone,” he says, a hint of humour drying his speech. “I imagine stage-kissing on a real date would be quite a deal-breaker.”

“Stage kissing, huh?” Phil widens his eyes. “How does that differentiate from a real kiss, then?”

“Well,” Dan takes another sip of his drink, his vision beginning to slow down. “First of all, it’s not really a kiss at all.”

“Huh?” Phil frowns.

“I mean- not usually. There are different kinds of stage-kisses, but most of them don’t involve, you know,” he smirks, reusing Phil’s rather vulgar term of “lip-on-lip action”.

“So you guys don’t actually kiss?” Phil asks.

Dan shakes his head. “Nope.”

“But-… how does that work?”

Alcoholic courage swims through Dan’s veins at that. He glances at Phil.

The words are a whisper, a dare almost, and it isn’t until Phil nods that Dan realises he’s actually said it out loud.

“Want me to show you?”

“Yeah, go on,” Phil’s tone is casual, soft almost, but his eyes are glittering.

“Okay, well- come over here,” he beckons.

Phil does as he’s told, shuffling up on his knees until he’s facing Dan.

“One of the actors needs to have their back to the audience,” Dan says. “So, let’s say the wall over there is the audience,” he nods over Phil’s shoulder to the stretch of concrete watching them.

“Alright. The wall’s the audience. Now what?”

“Now,” Dan gulps, feeling his heart begin to pick up the pace because shit, this is really happening now. “So, what you do is, like, just lean in normally for a kiss, but stop just as your lips are about to touch.”

Phil scoffs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Look, do you want me to show you or not?”

“Nah, nah, I’m kidding,” Phil says. “C’mon, then. Show me how it’s done in Hollywood.”

“You dick,” Dan mumbles, but he’s leaning in.

Phil gets closer, his face begins to crawl up to Dan’s until their noses are brushing and his fringe is a tickle on Dan’s cheek and his breath mixes with Dan’s own, warm and languid through parted lips and fuck, Dan’s heart is really thudding now. His legs feel like jelly and his lungs feel like fire and there’s something warm and fiery swirling in the pit of his stomach, something alien, something that he’s certainly never felt before with any other colleague he’s come this agonisingly close to kissing.

They stay there for what feels like minutes, lips hovering, warmth tingling and the city still thundering beneath them, and it’s Phil who pulls away first.

“Impressive,” he smiles, eyes glittering with nonchalance. “Frustrating, but impressive. Is that your go-to one, then?”

It takes three swigs of beer to calm Dan down before he can speak again.

“I mean- um, yeah. Though sometimes if you’re, like, sitting really far over to the side in the audience you might be able to tell that they’re not actually kissing, so,” he shrugs. “It just depends on the stage, I guess.”

“Right,” Phil nods, swigging from his own bottle. “You, er- you mentioned a few other types, right?”

The thought of coming that close to Phil’s lips again sends the strange flame of warmth flooding back into Dan’s stomach. He all but chokes on his mouthful of drink.

“Er- yeah,” he stutters. “There are a few others,” he gulps again and shit, what’s up with him?

Dan doesn’t really know what’s happening, doesn’t know why being within a metre radius of this guy is already making him feel far more than he’d ever felt with any colleague, kissing or not, but it doesn’t stop him from beckoning the older boy over and showing him kiss number two, their lips locked together with nothing except Dan’s thumb in between them. He can feel the warmth of Phil’s mouth against his skin, the hot movement of Phil’s breath through his nose and the tickle of his hair against his cheek again. When he parts his mouth, Dan feels the tiniest touch of lip against his. It’s only the very corner and can’t have lasted for longer than a millisecond, but the feeling comes back like a spark to a flame and he’s beginning to find it difficult to balance and oh, shit.

They break apart, eyes searching each other’s, and it’s the first time Dan’s feeling like this post-‘kiss’ without having to throw on a character like an old shirt. He doesn’t have to follow anything up with someone else’s speech, with a fake accent and a stupid costume and a mannerism that doesn’t quite fit.

For once, he doesn’t feel like he has to act.

Phil narrows his eyes after a few silent seconds, fighting back a smirk.

Dan frowns, the post-stage kiss high beginning to melt away.

“What?”

“Is that seriously it?” Phil says.

“Yeah,” Dan moves away, trying to ignore the surge of electricity he had felt upon edging within a few millimetres of the other boy’s lips, the city a roar beneath them.

“I don’t know why I feel so disappointed,” Phil smirks. “From where I sit, looking at you lot doing all your stuff down on the stage, it looks a whole sight more realistic than that.”

Dan looks back out to the city.

“Yeah, well,” he says, feeling his heart slow down. “Acting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“So. You and Alexandra, eh?”

Dan glares at him. Dawn is beginning to throw pastel colours into the blackness of the sky. It’s still dark enough to see the stars, fainter twinkles against the sweep of indigo above them, but it’s light enough for them to see each other, to make out feint outlines of faces in the low pre-sunrise light, eyes half-lidded and shadowed from the sleepless hours. It must be pushing four in the morning, and they’ve been here since eleven o’clock, leaving their parents with promises that they’re spending the night round each other’s houses to make a few preparations for the play.

(If reciting Romeo’s Balcony Scene soliloquy through giggles and slightly drunken slurs counts as preparation, then at least half of that promise is true).

“We’re not an item,” Dan mumbles, taking a drag from his cigarette. It tastes strange, kind-of like dirt and ash and tar and he’s not a smoker and probably never will be, but Phil had offered him one and- well, fuck it.

“I know,” Phil says. “But you guys are performing in the round, aren’t you?” Phil narrows his eyes, and Dan swears he leans an inch or two closer before whispering, “your stage kisses won’t work from that angle, I’m telling you.”

“Don’t remind me,” Dan shuts his eyes. So far he’d been doing quite a grand job of pushing that worry to the back of his mind, burying it deep into his consciousness. The whole reason he’s up here altogether is to escape it.

Phil hesitates.

“What?” he asks. “Don’t you want to kiss Alexandra?”

Dan gulps, the taste of alcohol souring on his tongue a little.

“It’s not that,” he says. “I mean- a kiss is a kiss, right? It’s all part of the job, and-“

“But you don’t fancy her,” Phil says.

Dan frowns. “Well- no, of course not. She’s a colleague.”

“I know,” Phil says. “It makes a difference though, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Kissing someone you don’t fancy. It’s weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Dan mumbles. It’s getting harder and harder to maintain this lie. “I- er, yeah. I usually stick to stage-kissing on the job, to be honest,” he shrugs. “It’s just easier than kissing someone you don’t really have feelings for.”

“Have you never, you know, properly kissed anyone before, then?”

Dan takes a deep breath. Lies can flow like water when he wants them to; he’s a master at concealing the truth behind a blanket of fabrication and deception, but there’s something about talking to Phil that makes falsehood sour on his tongue.

He lets it out in a deep sigh, feeling his chest deflate and his heart thud. Fuck it.

“You know what?,” he begins. “No. I haven’t. I don’t know if you can tell, but- yeah. I dunno, I guess that’s why I’m so stressed about this shit with Alexandra. And like- I know that probably makes me a fucking loser for never having kissed anyone at the age I am now, and probably even more of a loser that I want my first one to be with someone special, but- fuck, I don’t know,” he swallows, feeling the knot of anxiety in his chest loosen a little. “No. I haven’t. Okay?”

Phil doesn’t say anything. He bites his lip and averts his eyes down to the neck of his bottle. He fiddles with the loose cap, letting it fall through the spaces between his fingers with a sharp clink.

Dan doesn’t like that, doesn’t like the silence. The knot returns.

“What?”

“I- er- that wasn’t really what I meant,” Phil finally says.

The knot tightens.

“What do you mean it’s not what you meant?”

“I meant have you properly kissed anyone on stage before,” Phil glances up. “Not in general.”

Dan’s stomach drops. Oh fuck.

He open his mouth, but no speech follows. No amount of words can haul himself out of his hole now. Shit.

“I mean-“ he finally speaks again after a silence, and there’s a tremor in his voice that he desperately tries to smooth over. “Oh, shit,” he deflates, feeling the pit of his stomach begin to churn due to the abundance of the night’s alcohol. There’s no point trying to clamber out of the hole he’s just dug himself. He’ll only deepen it.

“Have you really never kissed anyone?” Phil asks in a quieter voice, but he doesn’t sound surprised. Or humoured. Or any other emotion Dan had feared. Just… curious. “Like, at all?”

Dan gulps, the beer a sour swirl in the pit of his stomach. Maybe the sixth bottle was a mistake.

“Well there’s no point denying it now, is there?” Dan finally mumbles, his eyes fixed on a dent in the concrete not far from where they’re sitting. “No. I haven’t.”

The gentle thrum of city engines fills the silence between them, and the three seconds Phil doesn’t say anything for might as well have been days.

“Yep,” Dan breaks the quietness once it borders on unbearable. “There you go. You think I’m a fucking weirdo now, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” Phil replies, and his voice is unusually calm. Dan looks up, his eyes meeting a soft expression, and for some reason he really didn’t expect Phil to react like this.

“So-“ Dan shakes his head. “What? You’re not gonna take the piss? Laugh at me? Say I’m a fucking weirdo that only lied to you to try and look cool?”

The truth scratches his heart, but it needs to be said.

“Why the fuck would I laugh at you?” Phil frowns, and there’s something about the sincerity in his voice that, beneath the turmoil, Dan finds weirdly comforting.

“I mean,” Phil begins. “I’m surprised, don’t get me wrong. Only because you’re an actor and- well, let’s face it, you’re fucking gorgeous too, but-“ he shakes his head. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m the first to say I’d much rather make sure my first kiss means something. If anything, I agree with you on that.”

“You’re not pissed off that I lied to you?” Dan gulps down another mouthful of lukewarm alcohol.

“Of course not, you twat,” Phil says. “I mean, I get why you did, but there was no need to. Really.”

“I know,” Dan sighs, picking at the label on his glass bottle until the paper frays at the edges.

“Wanna know something?” Phil says, his eyes not moving from the soft sweep of stars above them, dimmed by the early morning light.

Dan takes his eyes away from the sky. “What?”

“If you’re a liar, then so am I,” Phil tells the stars.

Dan frowns. “You what?”

Phil’s eyes flick back down to earth, meeting Dan’s gaze. “I lied too.”

Dan gulps, his heart thudding. “About what?”

Phil forces a chuckle, but it’s drained of humour. “Do I have to spell it out to you? I haven’t kissed anyone either.”

The words ring in Dan’s ears moments after, Phil’s voice an echo above the roar of the city below.

“Wait-…” is the only word that passes Dan’s lips in the next passing minute or so. “But-…”

“Yeah,” Phil shrugs. “Turns out you’re not the only one, are you?”

“But-…” Dan shakes his head. “Why did you lie about it too?”

Phil just shrugs and says, “same reasons you did.”

Dan tries, he really tries, to comb through the tangle of confusion in his mind right now, but the best response he can come up with after a moment or two of silence isn’t the most articulate.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Phil agrees, and they descend into quietness again.

“Shame, isn’t it?” Phil is the first to break the silence. “That we feel the need to lie about that.”

“It’s society’s fault for making us feel as if being over the age of about fifteen without having shoved a tongue down anyone’s throat is a failure.”

Phil grimaces. “I’ve never understood the attraction of that, you know. Like, I get making out and stuff, but why would you want to literally devour the person next to you? When I saw kissing scenes as a kid I thought they were actually trying to eat each other.”

“I know,” Dan takes a sip of beer, the alcohol slipping down with a little more ease now. “It sounds grim. I don’t know how people do it. At least with acting on stage you don’t have that problem.”

“True,” Phil mirrors his actions, pulling his drink away from his lips and tracing the rim of the bottle with the tip of his thumb, staring down the tube-shaped glass into the remains of the flat beer, swimming lukewarm and flat at the bottom of the bottle. Only when he glances up a few seconds later does Dan realise he’s been staring.

Dan smirks.

“What are you grinning at?”

“Just-…” he shakes his head and shit, he’s definitely had enough to drink tonight. He can feel the alcohol-induced honesty begin leaking through his parted lips and he knows he’ll probably end up saying something he’ll regret tomorrow morning but- oh, fuck it. “The thought of you having never kissed anyone. It just- doesn’t make sense to me like- look at you. How?”

He’s not really sure where the line between a compliment and a very sorry attempt at flirting is drawn but he’s pretty sure he’s fallen somewhere in the middle.

Phil’s gaze lingers a few seconds too long. “I could ask you the same thing. I mean- come on, look at you. A guy like you must have been drowned in opportunities.”

They’re both a bit too drunk, a bit too cold and there’s something about the atmosphere of an empty car park at fuck-knows-o’clock that warps reality just a little. Dan blinks and the city lights don’t unblur and he feels a bit like he’s in a dream.

“Yeah, I-…” he shrugs. “I’ve had my fair share of offers, I won’t lie.”

“I’ll bet,” Phil interjects, and Dan rolls his eyes.

“Oh, don’t act like you haven’t either,” Dan rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking. “I just-… yeah, I dunno. I didn’t really wanna waste it, but I never really found someone I liked enough.”

“That’s nice, that is,” Phil says, and though Dan scours his tone of voice for a trace of sarcasm or mockery, but Phil’s eyes glitter earnestly. “No, like, really. Most teenagers just, you know, dive straight into it. Slam their face against anything with a pulse that crosses their path. But the fact you care enough to wait,” he glances up, eyeing the boy beside him carefully. “That’s rare. Kinda admirable in a way.”

“Were you the same, then?”

Phil nods without any hesitation. “A hundred percent.”

Dan nods understandingly, taking another sip of beer, and the two of them watch the town sleep for a quiet moment before Phil speaks up again.

“Oh, come here,” he stretches out his arms. “You look like you’re seconds away from hypothermia, for Christ’s sake.”

Dan leans into his chest, closing his eyes and snuggling into the Topman denim of Phil’s jacket. “I don’t really think a car park roof is the most suitable drinking spot,” he mumbles, his speech slightly obscured by his rattling jaw.

“Not at five a.m. in December at least,” Phil says. “It’s a lot nicer in summer, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Dan says, and the indirect promise that they’ll come out here and do this again makes Phil smile.

It’s quiet, serene and blue, and Dan loses count of the minutes that drip by until he hears Phil’s voice again, shattering his trance dancing on the fragile edge of drunken consciousness.

“Dan?” it’s only a half-whisper, but it still makes him jump.

The younger boy turns his head, his brown hair tousling against Phil’s denim chest until they’re eye-to-eye.

Phil lowers his gaze, but this time his eyes don’t flicker back up to Dan’s. Dan parts his mouth in response, but before he can say anything, there’s a surge forward and a soft pair of lips on his.

A jolt of adrenaline, shock, and a general ‘holy-fucking-shit-this-can’t-be-happening’ feeling shimmers through his body as he kisses back, and despite his embarrassing inexperience when it comes to anything remotely romantic, his lips move perfectly in time with Phil’s, their mouths melting together in flawless harmony.

Phil’s the one to break away, and Dan misses his lips the second the cold morning air touches his mouth. He frowns, studying Phil’s expression half-hidden by his mop of black hair, but the older boy refuses eye contact.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came ov-“

“Don’t apologise,” Dan cuts him off immediately, his hand hovering over Phil’s arm in quiet protest. “Just-…” he gulps. “Do it again,”

Phil’s head snaps up, his eyes boring into the brown stare in mild confusion.

“Please,” Dan mouths, and Phil doesn’t need to be told twice.

They kiss for longer, deeper, slightly parted lips and slow breathing and the teal glow of 5am light and shit, this was certainly worth a seventeen year wait. Phil’s lips feel like warmth and taste like tobacco and he feels a gentle comb of shy fingertips through his hair and yep, he can definitely see what all the fuss is about now.

When they break apart for the second time, all blushes and broken breaths, they’re both grinning. Phil drops his gaze with a bashful chuckle.

“Well,” Dan breathes. He’s still sitting close, their upper arms touching but neither of them really wanting to move away.

“Well,” Phil says, almost in agreement. They’re bathed in silence once again, but this time it’s comfortable.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Dan begins, looking out over the city. “That was definitely worth the wait.”

Phil tilts his head down, their noses almost touching. “Yeah?”

“For sure,” Dan cranes his neck up a little and pecks Phil’s lips again. The other boy grins, pulling his jacket further over Dan’s shoulders.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime then, won’t we?” Phil’s eyes glitter.

Dan grins, glancing at the view spread in front of them. The sun is beginning to awaken and there are fewer streetlights illuminating the land below and it’s cold and wow, they should really think about heading home soon. Dan hasn’t checked his phone in hours and he’s sure it can’t be running on anything much more than a measly four percent.

“Definitely,” he says, then hesitates. “Although, well.”

“Well what?”

Dan flicks his eyes up at the boy above him, tired brown against weary blue.

“Perhaps next time we should choose somewhere a little warmer than a car park,” he says in a soft voice, before adding, “I can barely feel my arse right now.”

Phil bursts out laughing, and then a pair of lips are on his for the third time.

The next couple of weeks rush by in a flurry of rehearsals, meetings, crumpled scripts and weird costumes that itch around the collar. Dan and Phil spend most of their time three storeys apart, meaning secret rendezvous up in the control room or down in the trap room are often necessary. The closer the big day creeps, the hotter the atmosphere becomes with stress, so it’s nice to leave the tension with the stage and the equally tense co-workers and escape for a bit.

“For fear of that, I still will stay with thee, and never from this palace of dim night depart aga- oh for fuck’s sake, you’re not even listening.”

Phil looks up from his phone, a giggling smirk still lingering on his face. “Huh?”

“Come on, Phil. You said you’d go through this with me and you’re sat there playing around with bloody Snapchat filters.”

“Sorry, sorry – I am listening, it’s just-“ his eyes flicker back down to the screen in front of him. “That’s hideous. Who even makes these filters? I look like a toe.”

“Can unflattering photos of you not wait five minutes until I’ve finished this? We’re literally nearly done anyway. We only have, like, one more paragraph to g-” Phil interrupts him by flipping the phone around to face the other boy. A bald, rather unsightly version of Phil with weird eyes stares back. Dan’s eyes widen in horror. “Fuck, that really is hideous.”

“I know,” Phil shudders. “I didn’t even know my face could do that,” he glances back at the screen and pulls a couple of experimental faces. “Would you still be with me if I looked like that?”

“Nope,” Dan replies semi-seriously, rolling his eyes when Phil pouts.

“What about if I looked like this?” Phil turns the phone around. He looks a lot better this time, but a little bit too much like an animal. Dan’s never really understood the national attraction towards ‘dog filters’.

“Probably. The ears might get in the way a bit, though,” he chuckles, before urging, “now come on. We haven’t got long left now.”

Phil agrees, albeit reluctantly. He swings his legs off the table, grabs Dan’s battered highlighted mess of a script sitting in front of him and they pick up from where they left off, something about ‘worms that are thy chamber maids’, ‘everlasting rest’ and ‘inauspicious stars’ (whatever the fuck that adjective means). They last a grand total of fifteen seconds before Dan’s voice is interrupted by a shriek of laughter.

“Oh, fucking hell that’s bad!” Phil cackles. Dan groans, wondering for a fleeting second where the best place to launch Phil’s phone might be.

“That’s it,” he loses it, suddenly leaping across the table and swiping the irritating rectangle of interest straight from Phil’s hand. His smile vanishes in seconds.

“Aw, what?!”

“You have five seconds to put this stupid fucking thing away, or else it’s going out there,” he points to the window behind them. Phil follows his gaze, his eyes widening. They can see the majority of the town from up here. That’s a long drop.

He turns his head back around. They’re nose-to-nose, eye-to-eye.

“Fine,” Phil smiles, the tips of their noses brushing together. “But just so you know, seeing you angry just makes me want to kiss you more.”

Dan rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide his smirk. “Are you still gonna want to kiss me when your phone ends up on the ground?”

“What do you mean ‘when’? I’ve put it away now,” he points to the bulge in his back pocket.

Dan fixes him with a glare.

“Come on,” Phil leans forward as Dan leans back. “Just one?” he pleads, his eyes big and blue.

He shakes his head and pulls away, a grin curling at his lips. His eyes flicker back to Phil, a brown gaze that lingers too long.

“Afterwards,” he says in a voice like velvet.

Phil rolls his eyes, flopping back onto the chair. “Fine. Bloody hell, it’s like being back at school.”

Dan pretends not to hear that last comment. “Come on, we’ll take it from “world-wearied flesh…”

Phil’s phone doesn’t move once from his pocket after that. The promise of Dan’s lips after rehearsal is more tempting than any filter some dumb app has to offer.

“How do I look?”

Phil eyes him up and down, a smirk playing at his lips. “Hot.”

The comment receives a soft punch to his upper arm.

“Behave,” Dan turns back to the mirror, twining a lock of perfectly sprayed hair that he was specifically instructed not to touch around his fingers. “Are you sure? I feel like I look like a-“

He’s interrupted by a pair of soft lips for a few seconds.

“That’s really not helping the nerves,” Dan breathes once they break away.

Phil grins. “You look fine. You know you do. Now quit playing with your hair before Alexa sees.”

Dan doesn’t think Alexa, the make-up artist, is capable of seeing anything that isn’t within a thirty-centimetre radius of her own face right now. She’s been hurrying around backstage all evening; powdering this, curling that, flitting from actor-to-actor so quickly it makes Dan out of breath to even watch her. She certainly hasn’t done a bad job though, he thinks, as he inspects his reflection. A slightly dishevelled, 15th-century version of himself stares back, all weird leather and burgundy velvet and wow, perhaps he should sport an Elizabethan tunic more often.

“Suits you,” Phil smiles as if he’d read his mind. Dan adjusts the collar accordingly.

“D’you reckon?”

“Yeah,” Phil eyes him up and down again. “Most people here kinda look like twats in their costume, but you really actually pull that off.”

“Um- thanks? I think?” Dan smirks, frowning at his reflection. He doesn’t mention it has anything to do with his long-standing ability to morph into literally anyone he likes (he’d often been described by many make-up artists as having a “chameleon face” which he hopes is a reference to his adaptability to blend into multiple characters as opposed to resembling a lizard), and instead accepts the ever-so-slightly backhanded compliment.

“What are you doing down here?” someone with an updo the size of Jupiter asks Phil, sauntering past in something that really rather resembles a cupcake. Phil was right, Dan thinks. They do look a bit ridiculous. “They need you upstairs in five minutes.”

“Oh shit,” Phil glances at his watch. “Okay. Gotta go before Nick kills me.”

“Alright,” Dan smiles, pulling him in for a quick hug.

“Good luck,” he whispers into his shoulder. “You’ll fucking kill it.”

Dan tightens his grip around his arms. “Thank you.”

The word has multiple other meanings, and judging by the glitter in Phil’s eye when he pulls away, he thinks he understands every single one.

That night, Dan lavishes in warm spotlights and painted wooden sets resembling palaces and balconies, and he feels alive.

That night, the finest Elizabethan literature spills from his lips, flowing as easily as water, his voice shaping every monologue, soliloquy and duologue perfectly.

That night, there are another pair of lips on his; only this time painted red and totally professional. It feels strange, alien, and not a single trace of the spark in his heart that Phil’s lips ignite can be found, but it’s work. It’s courage.

And that night, someone up in the control booth watches through the pane of glass over all the light boards and buttons and wires, and smiles.

As if it’s been almost a year since my last oneshot??? Wtf this must CHANGE I’m getting back into writing (properly this time I swear) so there’s a lot more where this came from. Feedback is always appreciated whether it be good or bad so pls let me know how you found this! Feels so good to be doing this again u have nooo idea holy shit <3

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phan au #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #dan and phil #i really hope this is ok i'm so nervous about posting lol #pls pls pls let me know what you think #it's been a while since i've written fic properly i rllly wanna get back into it

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thereisnobearonthisisland-arc · 6 years

Text

anocht, beidh muid (tonight, we will)

a/n: this was written for @phanfichallenge‘s language challenge and i’m actually really proud of it. it would not have been possible without the magical beta touch of @auroraphilealis, so thank you thank you thank you for making me break up my paragraphs, they were a mess! i love you, boo <3

summary: when phil walks into a dingy bar on the outskirts of galway, he's not sure what to expect - least of all, a beautiful, irish-speaking fiddle player named dan.

3.6k words

read on ao3

warnings: alcohol, homophobia, homophobic slurs, a language you will more than likely not be able to pronounce, let alone understand

If there’s one thing that Phil Lester is sure of, it’s that Guinness is the worst drink ever invented. And unfortunately for him, there’s a lot of it in this pub because the tourists love it. (Okay, so maybe Phil is also technically, maybe, sort of a tourist as well, but at least he doesn’t see Guinness as the epitome of Irishness.) Every time a pint passes beneath his nose and into the hands of whichever tourist has ordered it, Phil wrinkles his nose a bit. It smells like a pile of dirt that’s had just a little bit of yeast sprinkled on top of it. He’s actually feeling kind of queasy.

This pub he’s in smells like oak and piss, and the rickety wooden stool he’s sat on isn’t doing anything to help his poor, aching arse. Phil is uncomfortable, and all the tourists are ordering Guinness. He should really just leave, he knows that, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, he can’t bring himself to slip off of his stool and walk out the front door.

Phil can’t really pinpoint what it is that drew him here in the first place. The pub is tiny, situated on the corner of two streets with names he can’t pronounce. It’s made of stone that’s been pissed on thousands of times by drunkards who don’t even remember where they are - which would probably explain why it smells like piss in here. The staff is friendly enough, although the bartender gave him a hell of a time for asking for a mixed drink when he’d walked in. If Phil’s being honest, this isn’t the kind of place he usually finds himself gravitating towards. But here he is.

He thinks it probably has something to do with the fiddle player.

To be fair, he hadn’t actually seen the fiddle player before he came in earlier this evening. In fact, the warm brown eyes and rose-gold cheeks on the frontman of the band playing in the corner hadn’t actually had any influence on Phil’s decision to wander in. The fiddle he was playing had, though, had drawn Phil in with the promise of a tune he could tap his foot along to while he drank the night away.

No, the fiddle player was just an added bonus, something pretty for Phil to look at as he listens to pretty music. So, maybe it wasn’t the fiddle player that brought him in here after all, but his instrument and the way he played it.

Blindly, he reaches for his glass and takes another sip of his margarita, licking at his lip to catch the bit of salt stuck there from the rim of his glass. His drink is almost gone by now, but he’s been too busy staring at the gorgeous fiddle player from his stool at the bar to notice it’s gradual depletion.

There’s no way he’ll be able to convince the barman to make him another one. Getting him to make Phil a margarita in the first place hadn’t been an easy task. He’d had to promise the bartender, who was already low on tequila, that he’d only drink one and then he’d find something to drink from the tap, so he’s been trying to savour it.

Here he is, though, with only a couple more sips sitting in the bottom of his glass. With a sigh, he downs the rest of his drink. Maybe if he chooses a cider from the tap and finishes it quick enough, he won’t have to think about how bad it tastes. Phil prefers his drinks made with ninety percent more sugar.

The music is loud. Not so loud that he can’t hear the buzz of conversation around him or hear himself think, but he can feel it thrumming in his veins, drawing a rhythm out of him he never knew he had. His foot taps softly against the bar on the underside of his bar stool, and his shoulders sway from side to side without his consent. This is the kind of music Phil thinks he might find on a soundtrack about him falling in love.

Phil really needs another drink. He needs one, but the fiddle player with the big brown eyes is still on stage, and those eyes seem to have found Phil’s, and he’s set down his instrument to sing some lyrics that Phil can’t understand from a song he’s never heard, and Phil can’t bring himself to look away.

O gairim gairim é,

Agus gairim é, mo stór;

Míle grá le m'anam é

'Sé Pádraig Leitir Móir!

There’s a roar from a small group of people sitting closer to the stage, and Phil can’t decide if it’s friendly or not. The fiddle player doesn’t seem to care either way. He picks up his instrument and begins to play again, closing his eyes as the rhythm picks up in the next verse.

Phil closes his eyes, letting the sounds of the fiddle and its player’s husky voice sweep over him. Except for the particularly rowdy group of people sitting up near this stage, it’s actually quite soothing. If it weren’t for the way his nerves catch fire every time the fiddle player’s eyes land on him, Phil thinks he could probably fall asleep to the music alone.

There’s a crescendo as the song comes to an end, and Phil’s eyes fly open. The fiddle player is looking right at him with dimples carved into round cheeks and a sheen of sweat spread over his forehead.

“Bhí sin Pádraig Leitir Móir.” The fiddle player speaks into the microphone, his voice low and rumbling, washing over Phil like warm rain in a thunderstorm. He’s still not entirely sure what’s being said, but that doesn’t keep Phil from wanting to hear this voice as much as he possibly can.

There’s a shout from up near the stage, and Phil feels his muscles tense up. He hates when people yell.

“Peigín Leitir Móir is ainm do do an amhrán. Cén fáth a bhfuil tú a rá ‘Pádraig’?”

Phil doesn’t have to understand the language to know that whoever these people are, they’re currently heckling the fiddle player. Bile rises in his throat. He wishes he knew what they were saying so he could tell them to fuck off in their own language, but he doesn’t know, so he settles for glaring instead.

The fiddle player’s face flushes, and he sets his instrument down roughly onto its stand before turning to glare at whoever’s heckling him right now. “Tá mé aerach. Má a bhíonn mé ag iarraidh Peigín go dtí Pádraig a athrú, beidh mé. Focáil leat. Ní bheidh aon duine eile sásta a fhocáil leat.”

Phil can’t quite see exactly what’s going on, but there’s another roar from the crowd, and he feels his heart skipping rope in his chest. He wishes he could run up there and put a stop to whatever this is.

One of the people up front yells, “A Deaglan, an bhfuil tú ag ligean cigirí anseo anois?”

The fiddle player swipes his hand over his forehead and combs his hair back. “Dia ár sábháil. Tá deoch uaim.”

The bartender, who’s stopped in front of Phil to watch, unimpressed, as the scene unfolds before them, scoffs. “A Máirtín, faigh thairis nó imigh.” He rolls his eyes as he spins back around to wipe down the bar with an old rag, and Phil thinks somewhere in the back of his mind that if heroes wore aprons and yielded dirty rags, this barman would be one of the greatest heroes in Galway.

With a sigh, Phil casts a glance to his empty glass. Now he really needs another drink. The band members are slowly making their way down from the short platform they’ve been stationed on for the past forty-five minutes or so, but Phil’s already lost track of the fiddle player. Actually, it’s not even until now that the fiddle player is out of site and the other musicians are making their way off the stage that Phil even acknowledges their presence.

Fuck, that makes him seem like an asshole. It’s not like he’s had no idea they’ve been here this entire time. He’s heard them playing, listened to the bellows of the accordion and the strums of the acoustic guitar. But he hasn’t really seen them, not really. Not when the whole room is lit up by chocolate curls framing hazelnut eyes. Not when the fiddle player is so breathtakingly beautiful.

The rest of the band, Phil decides here and now, is also beautiful; although he’s not sure that anyone could hold a candle to this complete stranger who seems to have swept away with his heart without a single interaction. God, he wishes he could lay his eyes on that face again. Drink, he needs another drink.

Phil swivels back around to get the bartender's attention, only for his knee to clack against the knee of some other person sat right next to him.

Why is there someone sat right next to him? There are plenty of open seats along the bar. Even more important: How did he not notice someone sitting down and ordering something directly beside him?

The new figure doesn't even look up from where he's staring moodily into his pint of lager, but Phil still feels a swoop low in his stomach. He's not drunk enough for a conversation yet, but he also doesn't want to be rude and leave his accidental assault unacknowledged.

Taking a deep breath, he turns to face the man on the stool next to him. Right next to him. "Sorry," Phil murmurs softly. "I didn't see you there."

The man doesn't turn his head, not fully, but his eyes slide sideways to look at Phil, and Phil's breath catches in his throat. They're big and brown and warm and set deeply into the cherubic face of the fiddle player from the band, and Phil reckons he'd really like to stare into them for a while if he could. No, scratch that, Phil reckons he’d really like to stare into them for the rest of his life if he could.

All too quickly, they're gone again, and the man just lets out a gruff grunt before knocking back the rest of his lager and waving the bartender over their way.

The barman gives them a tight smile. "What can I get for ye, lads?"

"An feidir liom lager eile agus pionta Guinness do mo chara anseo?"

Phil's barmate has a softer voice than he expected. It had been low and husky onstage, but the fiddle player had been speaking into a microphone then. This, though, this is completely natural, free from the speakers that warp it until it’s no longer soft and sweet. It’s smooth like satin, and Phil wishes he could listen to it play over and over again like a record.

Phil blinks stupidly, not even registering the twenty euros the fiddle player's sliding over to the barman or even that the barman is turning away before Phil can even place his drink order. How can anyone speak so softly? Granted, Phil has no idea what he actually said; he could have been cussing Phil out for all he knows, but at least the man sounded good while doing it.

It's probably a bit creepy, Phil knows that, but he can't bring himself to look away from the stranger beside him.

His hair is tousled from all of the tugging he’d given it at the end of the first part of their set. It’s been pushed back up off of his shiny forehead, but the body heat in this room is so overwhelming that it’s already started to flop forward to cover his eyes again. His skin is lightly golden, cheeks turned slightly pink from the warmth in the room, and Phil wishes that this rose-gold beauty would turn to look at him again.

When a glass thunks onto the bar in front of him, Phil startles, shifting his gaze to look anywhere but where it's been focused for the past few minutes. It settles on a tall glass of some dark, thick-looking liquid.

Phil looks up at the bartender. "Erm, sorry," he says slowly, "but I didn't order anything yet."

The bartender nods to the beautiful specimen who is somehow sitting beside Phil. "Your man's getting this round."

Phil frowns, glancing over to the fiddle player beside him again. He certainly isn't "Phil's man," although that doesn't necessarily sound unappealing. Actually it sounds quite appealing, but no one else needs to know that. If nothing else, Phil can just pretend for tonight just to keep any awkward conversations with the barman away. He lets his eyes rest on the pint in front of him again, glaring at it suspiciously.

The barman sighs. "I've had my eyes on it the whole time. He hasn't slipped anything in there, and it's all yours. For free. I'd take it if I were you."

Phil picks it up warily and sniffs it. He vaguely remembers the man beside him saying "Guinness" when he spoke to the bartender a few minutes ago, but he'd just assumed that the man had been ordering one for himself. This drink in front of him, though, it looks a lot like Guinness. Phil hates Guinness.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, but lifts the pint to his lips anyways and takes a big gulp of it, trying to swallow it all before it can leave any lingering taste on his tongue. It doesn't work. The drink somehow still manages to taste exactly as it smells - like yeast and dirt and piss, but Phil can't bring himself to put it down politely. Instead, he does the only rational thing he can do in this situation. He takes a few more gulps, trying to empty his glass as quickly as possible, squeezing his eyes shut and wrinkling his nose all the while.

The soft voice from the man next to Phil returns a moment later, making him jump. He sets down his glass.

"Mise Dan," the man says, and Phil's mouth forms a small "o". Dan sounds like a name. That doesn't necessarily mean that it's this man's name, but it would make more sense than anything else. It's not likely his neighbor would be trying to introduce Phil to the bartender.

Phil turns to look at Dan, whose eyes are still fixed on the drink in front of him, but whose lips have turned up slightly at the corners. "Phil," he says, as way of introducing himself.

"A Phil, ól liom." Dan picks up his glass and turns to look at Phil head-on for the first time tonight. He raises the pint, and even though Phil’s not entirely sure what Dan just said, the message is clear enough. He casts his own pint a brief, disdainful glance before grabbing it and turning to face Dan again.

Warily, he lifts it up to around the same level as Dan’s and sweeps his hand forward to clink their glasses together.

“Sláinte,” Dan says with a small, dimpled smile.

Phil can’t help but grin back. Without even making a conscious decision, he throws back the rest of his drink and drops the pint back onto the bar.

The fiddle player’s eyes blow wide with surprise, and he slides his hand over to cover Phil’s. “Woah,” he says softly. His thumb brushes gently over Phil’s knuckles. “Moilligh. Tá mé ag iarraidh anocht a chuimhneamh.”

Phil gulps. God, he wishes he were a native speaker because Dan’s eyes are fully on his for the first time tonight, not focused anywhere slightly to the left, not drifting to pass over the entire crowd. They’re just two orbs of molten caramel...fixed on Phil like he’s the most beautiful person in the room, but Phil knows that it’s a farce. No one is as beautiful as the man sat beside him.

Dan slips his hand off of Phil’s, and Phil almost whines, but it doesn’t go far. It’s still right there beside his, close enough for Phil to hook his pinky over Dan’s if he wanted to. He does want to, but he’s not sure he’s brave enough.

Like he’s read Phil’s mind, Dan takes another large gulp of his own drink and then hooks their pinkies together. Phil watches, mesmerised as Dan’s lips start moving. They’re plump and pink and smirking slightly as they form words Phil’s never heard before. “Tá súile álainn agat.”

Phil feels his cheeks catch fire. “I don’t know what you just said, but you have the loveliest lips I’ve ever seen,” he blurts, slamming a hand over his mouth as soon as the words have slipped out. He doesn’t know what came over him. It’s not like he’s had too much to drink - it usually takes a lot more than two to loosen his tongue. Maybe it’s just Dan. Dan and his soft voice and his tousled curls and his soft hands and his plump lips that Phil really wants to cover with his own right now. Everything about him is intoxicating. Phil reckons he probably wouldn’t ever need to drink again if he had Dan around all the time.

“Well, in that case…” Dan speaks in English for the first time tonight, and Phil’s mouth drops open in surprise. It’s not a surprise that Dan speaks English; most people in Ireland, Phil’s found, do. What is surprising, however, is the post British accent Dan has in place of an Irish one.

Phil doesn’t have much time to dwell on this, though, because one second he’s lost in his own head, and the next second Dan’s warm mouth is pressing gently into the corner of Phil’s, causing his mind to short-circuit.

Dan pulls away, but only just. “I have to go get ready for the second half, but wait for me? My lovely lips have a few tricks they’d like to show you.” He winks, and Phil can feel his soul leave his body. It’s one of the worst pick-up lines he’s ever heard, but fuck it if he’s not about to fall for it anyway.

Phil opens his mouth, preparing to agree right then and there, but all that comes out is, “You’re English?”

Dan chuckles. “Yeah, I’m actually heading back to London in a few weeks. We’re just playing in a few Galway bars for now. Eoghan’s from here, and he was feeling a little homesick, so we thought why the hell not?”

Phil can hear his own heartbeat. He hasn’t actually registered anything that Dan just said besides I’m heading back to London in a few weeks, and he wants to bottle up that sentence and stick it on a shelf. “I’m from London,” he breathes, relishing in the way he makes Dan laugh again. There’s nothing really funny about what he’s said, but maybe Dan’s just the kind of person who finds everything funny. Maybe he’s as drunk off of Phil as Phil is off of him.

“Well then maybe we’ll see each other around there, too.”

Phil’s heart skips a beat, and then the wires in his brain reconnect. “Wait. If you’re English, how do you know how to speak...Gaelic? Is that what that language is?”

Dan beams. “Irish, actually, but you wouldn’t be the first person to not know the difference. My grandma was from Galway originally, actually. She taught me how to speak her native language when I was really young, and it just...stuck, I guess.”

“That’s amazing,” Phil says softly.

“Thank you. Maybe I can teach you sometime.” Dan’s eyes crinkle at the corners. There’s a shout from the stage, someone calling his name, and he swings around to look at them. For the first time, Phil notices a small patch of skin on Dan’s jaw that’s a bit redder than the rest of his face. He wishes they had more time right, time for him to brush his thumb over that spot on Dan’s jaw, to press his lips to it, but he can already see the resigned look on Dan’s face that says he has to get back onstage.

Phil’s heart aches for that look, but he smiles in spite of it. “I’ll still be here when the show’s over. Maybe then you can show me your nifty lip tricks.” That is by far the worst sentence Phil’s ever said in his life, but Dan doesn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he looks rather pleased by it.

“I’d like that,” Dan says softly, lifting Phil’s hand up to brush his lips over Phil’s knuckles. “I’d like that a lot.”

“O gairim gairim é,

Agus gairim é, mo stór;

Míle grá le m'anam é

'Sé Pádraig Leitir Móir!”

“O welcome and acclaimed

is he, my love!

Dear to my soul, a thousand told,

is Patrick Lettermore.”

“Bhí sin Pádraig Leitir Móir.” - “That was Patrick Lettermore.”

“Peigín Leitir Móir is ainm do do an amhrán. Cén fáth a bhfuil tú a rá ‘Pádraig’?” - “The song is calle Peggy Lettermore. Why are you saying ‘Patrick’?”

“Tá mé aerach. Má a bhíonn mé ag iarraidh Peigín go dtí Pádraig a athrú, beidh mé. Focáil leat.” - “I’m gay. If I want to change Peggy to Patrick, I will. Go fuck yourself. No one else will fuck you.”

“A Deaglan, an bhfuil tú ag ligean cigirí anseo anois?” - “Declan, you’re letting f*gs here now?”

“Dia ár sábháil. Tá deoch uaim.” - “Fucking hell. I need a drink.”

“A Máirtín, faigh thairis nó imigh.” - “Martin, get over it or get out.”

"An feidir liom lager eile agus pionta Guinness do mo chara anseo?" - “Can I have another lager and a pint of Guinness for my friend here?”

"Mise Dan." - “My name is Dan.”

"A Phil, ól liom." - “Phil, drink with me.”

“Sláinte.” - “Cheers.”

“Moilligh. Tá mé ag iarraidh anocht a chuimhneamh.” - “Slow down. I want you to remember tonight.”

“Tá súile álainn agat.” - “You have beautiful eyes.”

#phanfiction #phanfic #my fics #phanfic writing challenge #language challenge #phan #phandom

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blissedoutphil · 6 years

Text

Post-Tour Agenda

I haven’t written a new fic in 4 months?? smh. Had a nice break from my WIPs tlic and jat by writing this fic! Thank you for the prompt @ticktockondabloc :) And the (**) leads to a nsfw link so be careful if you wanna click it!!

3551 words of switch!phan (who’s top/bottom here?? idek both have their moments), sybian (it’s like a fuck machine that you sit on), nipple play, blowjob, fluff

or read on ao3!

The first item on their post-tour agenda: Sleep. They don’t miss much from back home while on tour, but the one thing they can agree on was that they miss their bed dearly. They did have fun sleeping in their tour bus, especially after their crew decorated their bunks for them. The hotels, however, weren’t as fun. And after five months of sleeping in random hotels and tiny bunks, Dan and Phil craved nothing more than their big bed at home, where they could stretch out comfortably and in familiar sheets. And despite being together for almost nine years, five months of sleeping in separate beds was too long; they’d missed being tangled up in each other and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

So that’s exactly what they did first thing when they reached home. They each took a quick shower then hurriedly plopped into bed. Phil hummed happily as he squished his cheek against Dan’s shoulder, he’d missed being engulfed by the warmth of his boyfriend. Dan hooked his leg over Phil’s and they drifted off to a peaceful sleep listening to each other’s heartbeats.

They spent the next few days mostly in bed, sleeping off the jetlag and lazing around. Catching up on all their shows and only getting out of bed when absolutely necessary. There was nothing to stress over, no rush to go anywhere or deadlines to meet. They enjoyed being able to just lay cuddled with each other - something they rarely got to do during tour.

When they finally filled up their quota of sleep and cuddles, it was time to move on to the next item on their post-tour agenda: Sex.

“Remember what we bought before we started tour?” Phil recalled in amusement, looking up from where he was resting on Dan’s chest.

“Oh my god I still can’t believe we did that!”

Phil’s loved feeling Dan’s chest rumble from laughter as much as he loved the sound of his laugh itself.

“Do you wanna...?” Dan trailed off, looking at Phil inquisitively.

“Ready whenever you are babe,” Phil answered, silently hoping that they could try out their new toys right then.

“Alright, so how we gonna do this?” Dan smirked knowingly.

“Don’t pretend you forgot the plan,” Phil poked at Dan’s chest before he sat up, getting excited already.

Almost nine years together and they’re still as competitive as ever, they could still turn every little activity into a game. This game was conjured when they were packing before tour and realising the amount of things they had to bring for being away from home for so many months. It was simple - whoever came first on their newly bought sybians(**) loses and would have to unpack and do the laundry. The winner would get to use the loser in whatever way he pleases to come.

Phil scrambled out of bed and retrieved their new toys, still tucked away in their boxes under the bed. Dan looked on in amusement. Of course he remembered their little plan.

“You better not cheat!!” he warned as he watched Phil set up the two sybians to face each other on the floor.

“Hey I’m a fair player!” Phil said indignantly.

They both quickly undressed, all the while teasing each other about how they’re going to win and the other would have so much work to do.

The sybians were machines that had a dildo that could move at the seat, and a ridge in front of the dildo that would vibrate when turned on. The machines were controlled by remotes. The catch of the game? They’d have each other’s remotes, so they’d be controlling how soon their boyfriend would get to come.

They hastily fingered themselves, not trusting each other to help lest they purposely prod on each other’s prostate. They stopped as soon as they felt ready, not wanting it to get too pleasurable too soon.

“Ready?” Dan asked, hovering above his lubed up dildo.

“Yeah,” Phil nodded eagerly.

After a quick countdown, they both sat down on their sybians, shins flat against the floor.

Dan groaned as he bottomed out on the dildo. His balls rested perfectly on the ridge. He looked over to Phil whose eyes was scrunched shut as he adjusted himself on the toy. He grinned, an idea to catch Phil off guard crossing his mind.

He turned Phil’s machine on at the lowest setting. Phil squealed as he felt the dildo in him start to move slowly. The ridge also started vibrating lowly, stimulating his balls. Phil glared at Dan for starting even though he wasn’t ready yet. He clutched onto Dan’s remote and raised his eyebrows in a challenging way.

Dan merely smirked, prepared to win. He honestly had no idea what Phil was thinking by suggesting this game, he should’ve known by now that Dan was good at controlling his orgasms when he had to.

Phil turned Dan’s machine on, vibrations much higher than his. Dan’s composure broke only for a few seconds before he caught his breath. The vibrations on the ridge spread through his balls, quickly getting him hard.

“Hey I’m playing nice here, building you up and making you feel good. You’re just gonna go straight to the higher settings for me?” Dan questioned.

“It shouldn’t bother you since you think you have such good control, right?” Phil retorted, pressing a button so the dildo inside Dan started moving.

Dan moaned as the dildo started thrusting into him. His cock was already harder than Phil’s, the vibrations on the ridge felt so good on the base of his cock. But he wasn’t going to let Phil off so easily, so he quickly turned up the settings of Phil’s sybian. He watched in amusement as Phil gripped the front of his machine to steady himself as his dildo started thrusting faster.

When Phil regained composure, he fiddled with the remote to turn up the settings on Dan’s machine more. Dan bit his lip to stifle his moan, and Phil looked on in satisfaction as Dan’s cock leaked the first drop of precum.

Dan panted a little. Phil wasn’t going easy on him at all. But honestly, two can play at that. He turned the vibrations of the ridges on Phil’s sybian to maximum, smirking when Phil moaned loud.

The vibrations against Phil’s balls spread through his whole cock, and he started grinding against the machine on impulse. He curled his toes in pleasure, gripping the sides of the machine tightly as he moved his hips.

Dan chuckled, confident that he’d win. Once Phil started grinding his hips involuntarily, there was no way he could control himself.

Phil wasn’t about to lose himself in the pleasure, though. He made sure to match Dan’s vibrations to his, and he stared at Dan full of lust as Dan moaned out loud. He watched Dan’s dick quiver along with the vibrations on the ridge. But Dan was still composed enough to sit still as the dildo fucked him. Phil cursed under his breath, afraid that he was going to lose this game.

“Aww is it getting too much for you, baby?” Dan asked teasingly.

“Shut up,” Phil huffed, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“You look gorgeous grinding down on that thing though, can’t wait to replace your dildo with my dick,” Dan added cheekily.

Phil groaned, he doesn’t know how Dan can sound so hot even when he wasn’t attempting to dirty talk properly. Phil wasn’t good at dirty talk himself, so he had no chance to turn Dan into a flustered mess like Dan was doing to him.

“N-no, it’s gonna be my dick replacing your dildo,” he countered weakly, grabbing the remote and turning Dan’s dildo to the highest setting too.

Dan braced himself on the machine, he knew that if he moved the dildo might hit his prostate and his orgasm would approach sooner. So he stayed as still as he could and gulped as the intense vibrations spread through his crotch. He tried focusing his attention on his boyfriend instead.

“Look at your poor cock leaking precum, bet you wanna come so bad already,” he continued speaking in the low voice he knew Phil couldn’t resist.

“Could say the same for you!” Phil panted when precum dripped down Dan’s cock not long after.

“Aww c’mon, if you come you’ll get my dick and to be honest I think that’s more of a win isn’t it?”

Phil huffed, it did sound tempting but he was absolutely not going to do all the laundry. He pressed a button that made the ridges on Dan’s sybian vibrate in pulses that matched the movement of the dildo. Finally, Dan lost his composure and couldn’t help himself as he started to bounce lightly on his dildo.

Phil would laugh triumphantly if he wasn’t already bouncing desperately on his own dildo. He was so overwhelmed with the combined pleasure from the vibrations on his balls and the dildo fucking him. He angled himself such that the dildo wouldn’t hit his prostate even though he desperately wanted it to. He would not let himself lose like that.

“Please,” Phil uttered under his breath, so quiet but Dan didn’t miss it.

“Hm please what babe? You want it up even higher?” the vibrations on the ridge were already the highest, but the dildo wasn’t. So Dan turned it up all the way til it was thrusting into Phil as fast as the dildo in his own ass was.

Phil moaned brokenly, his hips grinding down onto the dildo as it thrusted right into his prostate.

“Nooo slow down please,” he whined, not caring how desperate he sounded.

“Aw why would I do that when you look like you’re having so much fun,” Dan teased, albeit with a bit of difficulty as he kept breathing heavily between his words.

“Daaan,” Phil moaned out, feeling his orgasm approaching already.

He briefly wondered if unpacking and laundry was that bad. He needed release so badly, why’s he letting that stop him? But then Phil thought about Dan’s smug winner face, and that was certainly enough to bring back his A game. He didn’t care so much about the forfeit, but he did care about his dignity and desire to win.

“Mmm Phil, wish this was your cock I’m riding, don’t you wish it was my cock you’re riding too?” Dan continued, knowing that his words pushed Phil closer to the edge just as much as the machine did.

Phil groaned and lifted his hand to wipe off the sweat on his forehead. He was really tempted to bring his hand to wrap around his dick. It was achingly hard and in desperate need to be touched, but he knew that if he so much as laid a finger on it he would be done for.

Dan was also getting dangerously close to his orgasm with every grind of his hips down onto the machine. He continuously rubbed his full balls against the vibrating ridge, exhaling shakily as the pleasure spread all the way to the tip of his cock. The noises his boyfriend was making weren’t helping him either; he so badly wanted to fuck Phil’s ass, or his mouth. He didn’t even know or care which he wanted to do more. He just needed Phil to come already so he could get himself in him one way or another.

“C’mon Phil, I know you need to come, don’t hold yourself back,” Dan encouraged.

“Why don’t you come first? If you do I’d let you suck me off,” Phil tried to sound hot but he just sounded desperate.

“That sounds tempting,” Dan managed to laugh, “but I’d rather have you on my cock. I know that’s what you want more too, don’t you?”

“Fuck,” Phil swore as the thought of sucking Dan’s cock crossed his mind and aroused him even more.

Dan’s cock was fully hard, standing right against his stomach and smearing precum all over his lower stomach. Phil was a liar if he said he didn’t want it in his mouth.

“If I give you a blowjob then you’re doing the laundry,” Phil tried to negotiate, already on the verge of coming.

“That wasn’t the plan, baby,” Dan just knew Phil would pull some shit like this, but he wasn’t angry. In fact, it somehow made him more fond of Phil.

Phil whined as he smacked his ass down onto the sybian with the force of his thrusts. Heat was pooling in his abdomen, his full balls feeling like they were going to burst any time soon.

Dan watched intently as his boyfriend struggled to keep his composure, watched the way his thighs trembled at the sides of the sybian, the way his head was down and eyes scrunched shut, mouth open as he elicited nonstop strings of moans. Any moment now, he thought.

He really needed Phil to come already before he does; he could feel his own orgasm pooling deep in his groin. With a lot of effort, he managed to slow down the movement of his hips on the sybian, smirking when Phil glared at him. He knew Phil wished he could slow down too, but Phil was too far gone to control himself.

Dan realised there was one thing his sybian was doing that Phil’s wasn’t, and his smirk morphed into a grin. Phil’s glare turned into wide eyes, afraid of whatever it was that Dan just thought of. He bit his lip, accepting his inevitable defeat coming soon.

Dan made a show of pressing the remote; holding it out, pretending to examine it and showing Phil what he was about to press before he did anything. Phil groaned and rolled his eyes, if Dan wanted to win he could just get on with it already!

Finally Dan pressed the button that made the vibrations of the ridge on Phil’s sybian pulse in time to the dildo thrusting into him, exactly how Dan’s sybian was working.

Phil threw his head back, thighs and hands clutching onto the sybian for dear life as he finally came all over the machine and his lower stomach.

“Yes!” Dan squealed the moment Phil ejaculated the first string of come.

Dan quickly got off of the machine, not risking coming. He definitely wanted his reward.

Phil ignored Dan’s cry of victory and enjoyed his orgasm as best as he could, vigorously riding the dildo as he came. He closed his eyes as he wasn’t prepared to face Dan the Sore Winner yet. But at least Dan had the decency to slowly turn the vibrations of his sybian down and to a stop when he was done coming.

He panted as he came down from his high, hands braced on the sybian as he attempted to catch his breath. He felt a hand on his shoulder and forced himself to look up at his boyfriend.

“Aww didn’t that feel good?” Dan cooed at him.

Phil sighed and pouted, “I can’t believe I lost.”

“Ohhh dear, who would’ve thought,” Dan teased, and laughed when Phil scowled at him.

Phil couldn’t be mad at his boyfriend for long even though Dan was still having fun teasing him. Dan looked so silly swaying his hips about while mocking Phil since he was still rock hard, Phil couldn’t help but giggle.

“Whatever, how do you want me?” Phil asked as he got up from the sybian, wobbling a little.

“Would that frown disappear if I let you decide how you want to get me off?” Dan asked without any hint of being a tease this time.

Phil squinted his eyes, disbelieving that Dan was done gloating at first. But Dan only smiled at him sincerely. Phil bit his lip as his eyes flicked down to Dan’s erection. His ass felt thoroughly fucked by the sybian already, so he decided to give that a rest.

Dan didn’t miss the glint of mischief in Phil’s eyes as Phil pounced on him, sending him tumbling backwards to the floor. Dan’s squeal of surprise was cut off by a kiss so fervent it knocked the breath out of his chest.

He didn’t get a verbal answer to his question, but from the way Phil started to kiss down his jaw and neck, he could guess where it was going. He moaned and wrapped his arms around Phil’s back as Phil started sucking a hickey on his neck.

Another thing Phil had missed doing during the tour was marking his boyfriend up. Now that the tour was over, they wouldn’t have to go outside for a while and he could finally bite down on his boyfriend’s perfect pale neck, could finally relish in the breathy moans Dan would let out when his sensitive skin was caught between Phil’s teeth.

Phil took his time lapping and nipping, leaving sloppy kisses and tasting the saltiness from Dan’s sweat slicked skin. He felt Dan’s cock twitch against his thigh when he breathed over Dan’s nipple and smirked. He might not be good at dirty talk like Dan was, but he didn’t need to be. His mouth can also reduce Dan to a needy mess just like this.

Phil licked over Dan’s nipple and nipped on it, tweaking the other nipple at the same time. Dan whimpered at that and his hand moved to the back of Phil’s head, fingers tangling in his hair to keep him in place there. Phil continued sucking on his nipple and pinching the other for a bit before switching, making sure both nipples received the same attention. He only stopped once both nubs were fully erect and Dan couldn’t stop whining and writhing under him.

“Aww is it getting too much for you, baby?” Phil mimicked Dan’s voice from earlier.

Dan couldn’t even think of a good comeback, he was already desperate to come. So he just replied sincerely, “You’re way better than the sybian.”

“Of course I am,” Phil proclaimed proudly before going to kiss down Dan’s tummy.

He licked his way down Dan’s happy trail, carefully avoiding Dan’s dick that was lying hard on his lower tummy. Dan was breathing heavily as he peered down himself to see what Phil was doing.

Phil gave teasing licks on Dan’s dick, tasting precum on his slit and licking down a protruding vein. He smiled when Dan started moaning his name urgently. He was determined to make Dan as desperate to come as he was on the sybian earlier.

“I know I said I’d let you decide but can my reward not have so much teasing oh my god,” Dan said desperately.

“That’s what you get for being such a sore winner,” Phil answered.

“Am not-ahh,” Dan’s answer was cut off into a moan as Phil swiftly went down on him.

Phil got Dan’s whole dick in his mouth, his lips wrapped tightly around Dan’s base. After Dan recovered from the initial sensation, he sat up a little to be able to look at Phil properly.

Phil let his boyfriend adjust above him, he was satisfied lying on his stomach with Dan’s dick pulsing in his mouth. He propped himself on his elbows and started bobbing his head when Dan fully sat up and had his legs bracketing either side of his body.

“So good, Phil,” Dan moaned, and Phil hummed happily at the praise.

He sucked on Dan harder, and they both knew that Dan wasn’t going to last long. He’d been needing release since he was on the sybian, and Phil’s talented mouth was only helping him chase his orgasm even faster.

Phil fondled Dan’s heavy balls while he licked the underside of Dan’s shaft, his other hand grasping the base of Dan’s dick that wasn’t in his mouth. Dan was gripping onto his hair and moaning loud above him. Phil had missed hearing how loud he could make his boyfriend moan, missed all the beautiful sounds that couldn’t be made at all during tour.

“I’m close, Ph-,” Dan tried warning, his hand in Phil’s hair pushing Phil’s head down on him more.

Phil sucked even harder, and one hand snaked up Dan’s body to twist his nipple. Dan moaned, and another tweak of his nipple finally sent him over the edge.

Phil swallowed around Dan as he came, bobbing his head and not coming off until he couldn’t feel anymore come spurting down the back of his throat.

When he heard Dan exhale a sigh of contentment, he finally pulled off with a pop. Phil sat up and Dan immediately pulled him into a kiss, tasting himself as he licked into Phil’s mouth.

They broke the kiss only when they needed air, and Dan collapsed onto Phil similar to how Phil pounced on him earlier. They laid on the floor tangled in each other as they caught their breaths.

“Third post-tour agenda: you’ve got lots of unpacking and laundry to do,” Dan cheekily said after a while, poking Phil in the ribs.

Phil groaned and shoved at Dan a little, his signature pout returning to his lips.

Dan wouldn’t tell Phil now, but of course he’d help him with the laundry later. Sure he’d won their silly little game, but how could he resist the need to wipe that pout off his boyfriend’s face?

#phan #Smut #phanfic #phansmut #My fic #phan fic #phan smut #post-tour agenda

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ineverhadmyinternetphase · 6 years

Note

12 and/or 30 for dnp ( but if you are in the mood for another otp its okay too)

I’m going to do both of these because they made me smile, and I’ll do dnp :D

12. Just waking up

Phil woke up to an elbow in the face.

He screwed his face up, scrunching his nose, and moved his head out of the way. It was still early - he could tell by the angle of the light spilling into their room. He watched it lazily for a moment, eyes tracing the random floating of dust in the sunlight, before the elbow in his face moved again and he got hit on the nose.

“Dan.” It came out muffled. Phil reached up and gently extricated himself from the elbow, glancing to his left at where Dan was sprawled out across their bed, still asleep.

“Dan,” Phil called again, and lightly poked his cheek, where there was the hint of a dimple.

“Mrph,” was all he got in response.

Phil rolled his eyes, blinking out the last of the sleep clinging to his lashes. He pushed himself up on his elbows and turned to properly face Dan, taking him in - the long expanse of his body, the way his arms were spread out on either side of him, one hanging off the edge of the bed, the other crowding in Phil’s space.

Phil gently took his elbow and moved his arm so it was tucked into his side.

Dan made a disgruntled sound and blinked open one eye, looking up to catch Phil looking fondly down at him. He screwed his face up. “Ew. You’re gross. It’s early.”

“Go back to sleep,” Phil told him. “Just don’t put your limbs in my face.”

Dan had already closed his eyes again. He stilled reached out with both his arms, rolling so he was on his side, and opened and closed his hands a couple of times to beckon Phil in close.

Phil let out a little huff. “Sometimes it feels like you just use me for cuddles.”

“No,” Dan said, and opened and closed his hands once more. “Shut up. C’mere. It’s early.” He was whining now.

Phil rolled in with another fond, if exasperated, sigh, and tucked himself into Dan’s side, winding his arm around Dan’s waist. Both of Dan’s arms came to wrap around Phil, cradling him close, and Dan let out a content sigh, exhaling against the skin of Phil’s neck.

Phil had to admit, the warmth was nice as he closed his eyes and drifted back into sleep.

30. Out of necessity (trapped in a small space, etc.)

The nook in PJ’s house was cosy and adorable. It had fairy lights littered all around it, tucked away up near the ceiling, the white-painted edges keeping whoever was inside from falling out. It was also something of a novelty, to be sleeping up so high near the ceiling, the ladder that led up to it sturdy.

But it was also far, far too small.

No matter which way they twisted, Dan and Phil did not fit in it. They were very grateful to be staying with PJ, catching up with a friend they hadn’t seen in a while, but Phil was beginning to remember why they didn’t come and stay often.

He grunted as Dan elbowed him in the back for the sixth time in a row, twisting sharply away. But when he turned, his back pressed uncomfortably against the wooden edges of the nook. The ceiling was so close above their heads that neither of them could sit up to properly re-situate themselves, so they’d ended up in a heap of limbs, not quite sure where one ended and the other one started.

“You know what?” Dan grunted, “Fuck this.”

Phil’s eyes widened when Dan rolled over, clearly attempting to turn. He yelped. “Ouch, don’t just do that--”

Dan only turned for a moment, though, before he lifted himself onto his hands - narrowly avoiding the ceiling - and simply collapsed right on top of Phil.

The air all left Phil’s chest in a soft oof.

Dan shuffled around for a moment, tucking his legs around Phil’s and winding his arms around Phil’s middle. He propped his chin up on Phil’s chest and grinned at him. “Better. Right?”

“I don’t know I’d necessarily call it better,” Phil grumbled. “You’re squishing me.”

“Better than you kneeing me in the rib every five seconds,” Dan shrugged, his eyes glinting in glow from the fairy lights.

“You were the one elbowing me,” Phil huffed.

“Well, now I’m not,” Dan said blithely, smirking. “Problem solved.”

Phil would have complained further, but Dan looked particularly pleased with himself, and his warm weight pressing into Phil wasn’t totally unwelcome.

So he just grumbled under his breath and wrapped his arms around Dan to hold him in his place.

(the nook, for anyone who hasn’t seen it)

Send me a number and a pairing and I’ll write you something!

#promptfill #askfics #these are so fun #go ahead and keep sending in #any fandom is ok (bts or dnp) just specify which pairing you want ^_^#crazyjojo

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phanfictioncatalogue · 6 years

Text

(TW) Manipulation Masterlist

Links Last Checked: May 15th, 2022

All In Vain (ao3) - ohlesterno

Summary: "For the first time in his life he had to deal with an emptiness and a kind of pain and loneliness even Phil couldn’t fill up. And that was going to take some getting used to for the both of them. But there was something Phil could do, there was something Phil would always be able to do. It wasn't about making him forget. It was about making him feel something else."

Bad Things (ao3) - EmrysBeard

Summary: Dan's an easy target- young, weak, starved of love, and Phil's been watching him for a while anyways. Taking on Dan's case may prove to be a fatal flaw.

Birthday Sex (ao3) - danfanciesphil (thejigsawtimess)

Summary:

The rules are pretty simple. Whoever’s birthday it is gets whatever they want, no questions asked. A bi-annual sex treaty. It’s the perfect answer to getting rid of all of that pent up angst, leftover desire and sexual frustration they feel for each other. And seriously, it’ll be fine. There’s no way anyone can be manipulated or end up with their feelings hurt or anything like that. Granted, friends-with-benefits has a bad rep, but how could this possibly go wrong? They’ve got it all planned out.

Derelict - wishicouldunreadthat

Summary: Dan is in love with a bad boy called Phil Lester, and he’s too easily roped in. It’s too late when he realises that Phil is a monster who abuses him in every possible way. Dan can’t escape on his own, but maybe a stranger named Chris can help.

Fool with Feelings (ao3) - cockwhoredan

Summary: Cam boy Dan has never been this obedient for a guest who hasn’t tipped. Businessman Phil has never been this happy with a misclick.

If Only I Could Love You - phantasising

Summary: Dan Howell is one of the most popular kids in school, with a badboy reputation to uphold. On the day that he meets the new boy, Phil Lester, who seems just as bad as himself, he wants to get to know him better…

I'll Always Love You (fanfiction.net) - Lonewritersclub

Summary: A very smutty phanfiction featuring a dominant Phil and a submissive Dan, strange domesticity and all around weirdness and manipulation.

In Paradise (ao3) - yoongioss

Summary: “Uhm.. Hi. Who are you?” Phil finally spoke, reaching up to rub his eyes with his fists.

“Oh, Gosh, I’m Dan. I’m the pool boy, maid, groundskeeper, basically whatever you don’t want to do, I’m here for it.” He smiled and his cheek sunk in slightly with the biggest dimple Phil’s ever seen.

Love is Just An Empty Word You Say (ao3) - starrywrite

Summary: Phil had gotten so used to being single, but that didn’t mean he wanted it that way forever. Insert Leo, who sweeps Phil off of his feet and steals his heart, and it doesn’t take long for Phil to come to the conclusion that his new boyfriend is an angel. But Leo’s halo and wings aren’t a good enough disguise for the devil inside.

Love Through A Lens (ao3) - bakingphaninmymind

Summary: Dan is a poor barman and Phil is a student of photography. Entranced by Dan's punk style and desperate to change his own perfectionism, Phil offers Dan a good payment for modelling. Dan hates perfectionism as it doesn't exist in his eyes but he has no other choice but say yes. After all, he has someone else he needs to take care of except for himself and money isn't that easy to find.

Rescuing Baby Howell (ao3) - Alphalester (alphalester)

Summary: Baby Howell is the youngest exotic dancer here at Blue Feather. Baby is abused and mistreated except he doesn’t know any different. Baby can’t even remember his own name.

Phil Lester is a policeman who is desperate to be a detective. When he gets the chance to go undercover and prove himself, Phil has to find out where exactly the dancers came from after having a tip-off that one was being held captive and being made to work. Phil was going to get that Dancer safe if it were the last thing he ever do.

Secrets Are the Sweetest Things (ao3) - Eavans

Summary: Actor!Dan AU – When contract-ridden, “clean cut” Dan Howell is moved out to L.A. for his last movie shoot, the last thing he expects is to enter a relationship with a poor, drug dealing waiter. Be it from the tabloids, his controlling agent, or the authorities – the two must hide their secrets, especially if fate – if you even believe in that stuff – has other plans.

Soft and Safe (ao3) - MadameShay

Summary: Dan is stressed and so is Phil...so Phil asks if Dan wants to turn the apartment into a "safe space".

Starring Role (ao3) - MUSEPHIL

Summary: Phil's falling for the charming Marcus King, who's got eyes that sparkle and a laugh that can light up an entire room.

But he also finds himself drawn to the loveable awkward Dan Howell who's just started working at his office.

As time goes by he realises his little love triangle is the last of his problems.

Swing Life Away (ao3) - wallflowerchronicles

Summary: Dan looks back on his relationship with Phil throughout the years. It's not the pretty picture that many of their fans imagine.

The Academy for Gifted Individuals (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: The Academy for Gifted Individuals is a school built by the government with the intentions of allow people with unique and powerful abilities to learn how to control their powers. Dan Howell, one of the most powerful people to ever attend the academy to date, is an antisocial loner who prefers to spend all the time that he can on his own. Phil Lester, a new student at the academy, is assigned to be this reclusive boy’s roommate.

What He Wants (ao3) - bestelitecouple

Summary: Dan Howell always gets what he wants.

From the car he was given on his sixteenth birthday, to the job as president of the Drama Society in Year Ten, Dan has everyone wrapped around his finger. He likes to do things a very specific way, his way, and he’ll do anything to keep it that way. Even if it means fucking Phil Lester until his ass falls off in order to keep the auditorium for the Drama Society. At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. (Or in which Dan and Phil are both presidents of different honors societies that have to share the school’s auditorium and work together for the production of the spring musical. Dan, being a brat, comes up with a dumb plan to get it back, which works fine, until his feelings come into the mix.)

When We Were Young (ao3) - wekingsandprettythings

Summary: Dan's always been told that the soulmate tattoo on his wrist matched a girl who passed away when he was a young child, little does he know that it's actually a match to a man who lives 300 miles away who is desperately trying to find him again.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #tw #angst #manipulation #manipulation masterlist

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god-whispers · 2 years

Text

sep 21

... but if not

"our God whom we serve is able to deliver us ... but if not, let it be known to you, o king, that we do not serve your gods, nor will we worship the gold image which you have set up." dan 3:17-18

the book of daniel is a very important book, especially to those who are researchers of the end times. daniel was gifted by God to see far beyond his own times into the ends of time itself. i remember the famous quote by martin luther king, jr - "i've seen the promised land. i may not get there with you. but i want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land." (for those wishing to review the whole speech, see here: http://www.edchange.org/multicultural/speeches/mlk_promised_land.html)

yes, we as christians will get there. daniel, as well as prophets through the ages foresaw it and witnessed to us about it. i wish i remembered the percent of prophecies made in the bible that have already been fulfilled, but it's accuracy is unmatched. that alone should serve as our witness to God's faithfulness. "that your faith should not be in the wisdom of men but in the power of God." 1 cor 2:5

i believe in the God i serve and shall never be dissuaded otherwise. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever." heb 13:8 there is no "passing away" of the gifts and promises of God. there are those who would try to convince us that we now have the completed bible text and now we're "on our own," so to speak. yes, they may say "God can do anything," all the while doubting that He will. my scriptures say, "according to your faith let it be to you." matt 9:29

i believe my "my God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus." (phil 4:19) and yet i see all around me so much need.

i believe He "heals all your diseases ... redeems your life from destruction." (psa 103:3-4) and yet i watch cancer and other diseases as they destroy the lives of loved ones.

i believe "whoever says to this mountain, ‘be removed and be cast into the sea," (mark 11:23) shall have it. and yet i see mountains of fear, finances and fruitlessness in so many lives.

i believe "when a man’s ways please the Lord, He makes even his enemies to be at peace with him." (pro 1:7) and yet i see warring factions in countries and the hearts of people all around.

i believe i shall "shall run and not be weary ... walk and not faint." (isa 40:31) and yet here i sit in my wheelchair unable to walk across the room without falling.

it doesn't matter if i pray and believe for healings and deliverances a million times and never see a single result, i will still cling to the truth of scripture ... "the same yesterday, today, and forever." my faith - our faith - is not dependent upon the performance of God but the person of God.

He is the great "I AM" and sees much further than we can. there is always a purpose for good in His plan. i may be detoured on my pilgrimmage of faith to direct another on their path or offer aid to one in need. these are not stop signs. they are just speed zones, perhaps to teach us endurance, perhaps a sacrifice for another.

there are many who have stood on His promises for years upon years. what is our wait next to theirs? for years my confession has been "we don't have to leave this world sickly and decrepit (broken down and worn out)." i still believe that, even as i am now confined in my movements. "did I not say to you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?" john 11:40 don't stop believing no matter what ... but if not?

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years

Text

Love Yourself (Chapter 11)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 6.8k story words: 66.1k (so far) chapter: 11/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thank you very much to @auroraphilealis for reading and editing this chapter, especially today when she was feeling overwhelmed from work. this chapter took a little longer to publish because i got wrapped up in the oneshot i posted (read here if you want!). also, you’ll notice that i included a link -- it’s not *technically* nsfw but it’s close, just fyi lol (you don’t have to look at it, just included it for those who were curious)

The next morning, Dan woke up with a start. Faintly, he thought he heard the ding of his lift door, but he was almost certain that he’d dreamt it until —

“Oh, Dannnniel!”

A cheery, high voice trilled throughout the flat, echoing in the early morning silence. Dan’s eyes flew open in surprise, just for a moment, before stubbornly fluttering shut again. He’d been up well past four in the morning the night before. Whoever was here would just have to kindly fuck off.

Dan rolled onto his stomach in defiance, burying his face in his pillow in a hazy attempt to hide from whoever had shown up completely uninvited. In his half asleep stupor, Dan tried to muddle through his thoughts long enough to try to figure out who was here, if he had plans that he’d forgotten about, what time it even was. Dan peeked a reluctant eye out of the darkness of his pillow and was greeted by the sun drifting in through his curtains, so it must not be that early. It felt like the blasted sunlight was trying to cajole him into facing the day, but Dan was pretty adamant about doing the exact opposite.

Especially after last night’s epiphany.

And the subsequent hours spent worrying about it.

Nope. For now, Dan would hide in bed. As long. As humanly. Possible.

“Daniel, dearest? Where arrrrrre you?” The singsong voice drifted closer as whoever it was moved further into the apartment.

Dan bit back a groan, not wanting to give away his location before he hand to. Why hadn’t he locked his bedroom door last night? Oh right, he lived alone and that was a stupid thing to do.

It’s not like he was expecting someone to show up at — he glanced at the clock — ten in the morning.

Well, on second thought, it wasn’t that early. At least not to the rest of the world. It felt like it might as well have been daybreak for how tired Dan felt, but most people didn’t share his affinity for staying up well into the night to contemplate life, its meaning, his place in the world… Jesus, there he went again.

Blearily, Dan tried to remember if he had any morning plans, other than going to Beans and Grind. He was fairly certain that he didn’t technically have anything scheduled until his dinner with Isabella that night.

Oh fuck.

That’d better not be Isabella.

Realistically, Dan knew that there were only a small handful of his friends and family that even had access to his apartment, so the intruder could really only be a small number of people — unfortunately, one of whom was his dearly beloved.

And he really didn’t want to see her right now.

Dan groaned quietly and pulled the covers over his head, as if practically suffocating himself in his own pillow wasn’t enough. He listened for the telltale click clack of heels that always accompanied Isabella, but the flat was shockingly quiet.

He couldn’t cope with seeing her right now. Not half-awake, not before coffee, not before he’d figured out how he was going to handle things. He’d tried to come up with a solution all fucking night, but he just couldn’t. Why had he waited to come to such a strong realization the night before Valentine’s Day? He couldn’t have waited one more fucking day to finally get his head on straight?

(Or, well, maybe straight was the wrong word, all things considered).

Valentine’s Day was the one day of the year that absolutely everyone agreed that dumping someone was completely unacceptable.

And, yet, here Dan was, unable to stomach thinking about spending another five bloody minutes in his girlfriend’s company. It was just his luck that Isabella had planned a big fucking romantic dinner for them tonight.

Dan sunk deeper into his bedsheets, dreading the thought of Isabella appearing in his room.

The flat was still silent, though — peaceful, even. Not a mood he usually associated with Isabella. Whoever it was, they’d stopped screaming for him. He didn’t hear any heels clacking, or even anyone moving around outside of his door. Despite the low hum of panic coursing through his body, sleep pulled at Dan, lulling him into the false sense of security that maybe, just maybe he might have dreamed the intruder. He let his eyes flutter closed again, blissfully choosing to ignore the world.

“Lazy boy, there are you!”

Jesus.

Dan tensed up in reaction. The bed gave a quiet squeak as someone sat down, causing him to slip towards them. Refusing to look up and finally face today just yet, Dan took in a deep breath of air, air tinged with roses and lilacs and lilies — Louise.

He let out a sigh of relief, body going boneless against his sheets. He could handle Louise. Of all of the people who could have been in his apartment at ten in the morning on Valentine’s Day — especially when he was this fucking tired still — Louise was by far the best option. He smiled into his pillow, and relaxed against her thigh, where he’d shifted when she’d slid into bed with him.

“Morning, Lou,” Dan murmured, face still muffled by the pillow. He felt her hand land in his hair, petting softly.

“Morning, Danny Boy. Wakey, wakey. It’s Valentine’s Day!” Louise still sounded annoyingly chipper for so early in the morning.

“Valentine’s Day is cancelled. Can it just be tomorrow already?” Dan moaned, rolling over, accidentally knocking Louise’s hand from his head. Too distressed about his own predicament to be upset at losing Louise’s comfort, Dan stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Nope! We have a best friends brunch date that you’re not getting out of, and while we’re eating, you can tell me why you’re being a grumpy goose,” Louise chastised.

“Brunch?” Finally, something good for today. Dan perked up in interest, raising himself onto his elbows to better see her. “We had brunch plans?”

“Not that you knew about, love,” Louise reassured him camly. “I just figured it would be nice to do something for breakfast since I’m sure we both have plans tonight.”

Louise was a good friend. No matter what was going on in their lives — professionally or personally — she always deliberately made time for just the two of them to spend together. He should have known she’d have something up her sleeve for Valentine’s Day.

Dan smiled, unabashedly pushing back the covers, finally feeling like today might be a day worth facing after all. The chilly apartment air hit his bare chest, and he was tempted to pull the duvet back over himself, curl up in bed, and never get up. But Louise was beaming at him, dressed in a pink sweater with a matching pink bow in her hair, looking excited, and against all odds, Dan was looking forward to their morning, too.

Apparently, though, Dan was too slow at getting out of bed because she started swatting at his shoulders with one hand, bundling the blankets towards her with her other.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” Dan whined petulantly, sending Louise a grateful smile so she knew he was kidding (mostly). He pushed himself out of bed and made his way to his closet before realizing he had no idea what to put on because he was missing a key piece of information. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!”

Rolling his eyes, Dan turned back around to face Louise. “Can I get a dress code, at least? Otherwise I’m just wearing this,” Dan motioned down to the tight black Calvin Klein’s he was wearing.

“I’m sure plenty of the world would be excited about that, but I’d prefer you put something else on.” Louise’s eyes were twinkling, and she reached down to grab something resting out of Dan’s site on the floor. When she straightened back up, Dan saw that it was a shopping bag, and it looked fancy.

“Lou...” Dan warned warily. He’d had plenty of experience with Louise buying him things. To be fair, he always ended up loving them, but she had a tendency to… push his style comfort sometimes.

“For you!” Louise cooed, passing him the bag. “Black jeans are fine to wear with it. I’ll be in the lounge. Don’t take too long!”

Before Dan could protest, Louise was jumping down from his bed, and walking briskly from his room.

Half expecting Louise to poke her head back around the doorway to see his reaction, Dan waited until Louise’s footsteps faded out of site to open the bag. Pink. Everything he saw was pink. Warily, Dan pulled the garment out of the bag and held it up, assessing just how bad whatever he’d apparently agreed to was.

Truthfully, it wasn’t hideous. It was just… pink. A muted, light pink sweater edged with blocky black trim. Looking more closely, Dan saw that it was almost sheer and had a very faint pixelated heart pattern. If it weren’t for the fact that it wasn’t black, Dan would almost concede that it was very much his style.

If he was going to wear something outside of the monochrome rainbow, it seemed fitting for it to be something soft, but a little bit ostentatious. But even if he did hate it, he’d probably still wear it without a fight, just to make Louise happy.

Dan pulled the bright garment over his head, and searched for his nearest pair of trousers. Strewn across the armchair were his black jeans, the ones with massive rips across the thighs and knees. They might be cold but they kind of leaned into the slightly-edgy aesthetic of the pink sweater, so it felt like a good choice. Once they were on, Dan paused in front of the mirror and ruffled his hair, quickly rubbing a bit of product in it to tame the curls ever so slightly.

Good enough.

Deciding he didn’t care to try any harder to look nice, Dan shoved his wallet and keys into his pocket, grabbed his coat off the back of his bedroom door, and headed into the lounge to find Louise.

“There you are, my handsome best friend.”

“Shut up, Louise. You’re lucky I love you,” Dan grumbled, making an effort to sound more annoyed than he really was. His mock-annoyance couldn’t last long though; Louise had placed black and white flowers on his bar cart. She’d allowed him to keep some part of his dark aesthetic today and, really, the flowers looked lovely. He really loved flowers — enough so that he bought them for himself sometimes. But there was something about having someone else buy them for him that made the flowers feel extra special. .

He smiled, washing away the exaggeratedly bitter grimace. “No Darcy today?”

“Nope!” Louise stood up and pulled on a dark pink trench coat that she’d must of tossed over Dan’s sofa when she’d first got in. Dan spotted his notebook on the armrest, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket on a whim. Just in case. “Tom is being a good boyfriend and taking care of her so that you and I can do something together.”

“Oh that’s nice of him,” Dan agreed. “Who’s watching her tonight, then?”

Dan crossed his fingers, praying that perfect mother Louise had forgotten to hire a sitter that night, that she would need someone — Dan, for example — to last minute take care of Darcy.

“Tom’s sister. She’s single, so the poor dear didn’t have anything to do tonight anyway. It was actually rather nice of her to offer.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

Louise gave him a confused look over her shoulder as she pushed the button to call the lift. “I assumed you had plans with… your girlfriend.” Louise’s voice was forcefully chipper, but there was a tinge of confusion to it, as if she didn’t quite understand why Dan was so offended.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Dan nodded his head. “Oh, right. Yeah, Isabella.”

Louise looked downright confused, now, and she stared suspiciously at Dan while they waited for the lift to arrive.

“You do have plans with her tonight, right?” Louise asked, sounding a bit outraged.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Dan reassured her. ”She’s flying in from Turks and Caicos specially for dinner,” he continued, unable to keep the dread out of his voice as he realized just how much of a mess he was actually in.

Louise’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at his tone.

“Someone sounds excited,” she teased .

“Shut up, Lou. No one asked your opinion,” Dan grumbled,

Louise rolled her eyes as the lift doors opened, and the two of them stepped inside. “Right, because if you had asked for my opinion, you would have broken up with her ages ago.”

Dan grimaced — Louise had hit a little too close to home with that jab — and his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. He’d planned to talk to Louise about his revelation about Isabella at some point, but he hadn’t exactly meant to make his distaste for tonight’s plan quite so clear. At least not this early ino brunch.

Apparently, his expression wasn’t missed by Louise, however.

“Daniel. James. Howell.” She gasped. “What is that look about?” she asked, sounding entirely too happy for someone who was speculating about the demise of Dan’s nearly year-long relationship. But then again, she had never taken any efforts to hide her hatred for Isabella in the past, so her gleeful attitude now shouldn’t be that surprising.

Groaning as he realized he wasn’t quite awake enough to deal with this just yet , Dan stabbed the ground floor button, and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “Can this wait until brunch please?” he begged.

Louise narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But you are telling me everything as soon as we have mimosas.”

“And coffee,” Dan added. Fuck, he really needed coffee.

************

Louise kept her promise. The entire walk to the mysterious brunch place, she chatted about Darcy and what she’d been doing in school lately, how cute it was to see her making friends with the new boy, and ‘experimenting with fashion’. Dan laughed and, just for a moment, let himself forget his own problems. The lives of Louise and Darcy caused Dan a lot less stress to think about, and he relished the distraction. The moment the waiter left from delivering mimosas and coffee, however, Louise abandoned her topics and turned on Dan.

“Okay, spill. What’s going on with you and what’s her face?”

“You know her name,” Dan said, rolling his eyes and giving Louise an exasperated look.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered, not bothering to hide her distaste. “Now, talk. Because it sounds like you’re finally fed up with her after months of me telling you she wasn’t worth your time— or anyone’s, really — and if that’s not the case, I’d rather you crush my dreams sooner than later.”

Dan sighed, and picked up his coffee, savoring a sip as he tried to decide where to start. He hadn’t exactly been anticipating talking about this any time soon, and he’d only just realized himself last night. Louise wasn’t wrong though, not by any means. Dan just had no idea how to tell her that she was right.

He huffed a sigh, rubbing his hands down his face. No better place to begin than with the whole root of the epiphany, he supposed.

“Well, I was incredibly productive last night. I wrote the entire instrumental part of a song, and have a mess of lyrics to go with it.”

“That’s great, but focus please.” Louise snapped her fingers in front of his face, trying to get him to stay on topic.

“No—” Dan cut himself off, struggling to figure out how to vocalize everything he was feeling and thinking. This was why he was a musician. So that he could express himself with something more than just talking.

Music. Right. Dan twisted around in his chair and groped the breast pocket of his coat — good, his song notebook was there. Maybe just showing Louise would be easier. Dan dug the notebook out of his jacket, flinging it onto the table in between them in lieu of a proper response.

“Isabella first, music second,” Louise warned sternly.

“I promise it all connects. Just read read what I wrote,” Dan pleaded.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Louise picked up the notebook and flipped to the last page.

Dan averted his gaze, studiously reading the menu while Louise read. Doing his best to ignore his anxiety at Louise reading what, essentially, amounted to a confession, Dan did his best to focus on brunch.

Did he want something sweet or savory for breakfast this morning? If he was having dinner with anyone but Isabella tonight, he’d assume that they’d have dessert then, but, well. He wasn’t.

Pancakes, then.

Dan snuck a glance up at Louise. She was still engrossed in the notebook.

Secretly, Dan was a little self-satisfied that Louise — Louise, the most talkative person he knew — was rendered completely silent for three full minutes.

Finally, finally she pulled her eyes from the page and looked up at Dan.

“This is some heavy shit.”

“I know.” Dan agreed.

“What’s it about?”

Dan gave her an incredulous look. “What do you think it’s about?”

Louise was silent for another moment, contemplating the notebook again. Her perfectly pink lip was drawn into her mouth; knowing Louise’s luck, she was probably getting lipstick on her teeth. Eventually, Louise turned her attention back to Dan

“Wanting someone you can’t have.” Louise’s tone was neutral, guarded even. Dan shrugged, silently telling her that she was close enough. “And you wrote this last night?”

Dan nodded again.

Louise didn’t ask any more follow up questions. Apparently, she was waiting for Dan to explain on his own. The problem was, Dan didn’t know how to explain. He didn’t know how to admit that he was wrong, that he’d finally fucking seen what his mother, his sister, Louise had all seen from the get go. He hated being wrong. He didn’t want to say it. Not out loud.

So he didn’t.

“Phil,” Dan said instead.

“...Phil?” Louise repeated flatly, looking flabbergasted by the seeming shift in the conversation.

“Phil,” Dan confirmed.

Louise nodded slightly, looking back down at the lyrics. When she looked up again, there was a smile threatening to break across her face. “And Isabella?”

“Ugh,” Dan groaned. “Isabella can go fuck herself.”

The smile that was tugging at Louise’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Thank fuck, Daniel!”

“I know. I know. I haven’t —” Dan was cut off by their waiter arriving.

“May I take your orders?”

Dan nudged Louise’s menu at her because he suspected she hadn’t made a decision yet. “I’ll have the mixed berry pancakes, please.” He glanced at his coffee cup. “And some more coffee when you have a moment.”

“Of course, sir.” The waiter turned to Louise. “And for you, miss?”

“Oh!” Louise exclaimed, eyes still roaming the page. “I’ll have pancakes as well. These ones here with the chocolate, please.” She glanced at Dan, pointing at their nearly empty mimosas. Dan nodded emphatically. “And another round of mimosas. Actually, whenever you see that we’re out of mimosas, we’d like another round. We’re celebrating!”

“Yes,” The waiter smiled fakely. “Today is the celebration of love.”

Dan waited until the waiter had taken their menus and was out of earshot before he added, “More like the celebration of love dying, mate.”

Louise giggled. “So love dying, eh? Tell me more. How did you finally get to this realization?”

“God, I don’t even know honestly. I haven’t felt like myself in months and I’ve just been so fucking busy that I haven’t figured out why and... Izzy’s been out of town for almost two weeks, which has been… great, to say the least.”

“You mean distance doesn’t make the heart grow strong when the only thing you’re interested in is sex?” Louise asked sarcastically.

“I know, I know. Shocking isn’t it?” Dan joked back. “But anyways, so last night I was skyping with Phil —” Dan brushed over Louise’s attempt to interrupt and ask about that “— and I felt so fucking comfortable and myself again. And I wrote that whole song in like an hour. I haven’t written that way in years.”

“I know you haven’t.” Louise agreed consolingly.

“And I just — fuck.” Dan smacked his head on the table, wallowing for a moment before pulling back up and starting to take a drink of his mimosa, only to remember that it was empty. His hand shifted over, grabbing his coffee mug, only to disappointedly realize that was empty, too. Luckily, he saw the waiter approaching.

As the man brought over a tray with two more mimosas and another cup of coffee, Dan fleetingly wondered how things might have been different this past year if he hadn’t been dating Isabella. Would he have written more music? Done more of the things he liked to do? Been able to enjoy his new flat more?

“God,” Dan continued. “She’s so fucking self-obsessed, and so fucking concentrated on fame and being in the spotlight and going out all the fucking time, and I just hate all of those things so fucking much. I just want to focus on music.”

Louise bit back a giggle. Dan could tell that she was feeling incredibly smug, but he appreciated her restraint from being patronizing.

“I know,” Louise sympathized. “I’ve been watching you struggle to balance focusing on yourself and your music with managing all of Isabella’s demands since you got together. It’s looked… tiring.”

“Yes! And I’m fucking exhausted of it now. How the fuck am I supposed to —” the end of Dan’s sentence was interrupted by the waiter arriving once again, this time with their food.

There was a silent agreement to drop the conversation for a moment so that they could focus on their food. Taking turns, Dan and Louise tried each of their pancakes, exchanging tastes of each other’s meals. They both agreed that Dan’s mixed berry topping was good, but it wasn’t nearly as amazing as the chocolate streusel on Louise’s

“So now what?” Louise asked as she popped another bite into her mouth.

Dan looked at her, a bit lost. Still chewing, Louise raised her eyebrows, nudging her head at Dan imploringly.

Right. His conundrum.

“So now I dump her,” Dan said simply, shrugging his shoulders and stealing another bite off of Louise’s plate. Louise didn’t react, just as Dan knew she wouldn’t. She was far too used to Dan stealing her food.

“Yes!” Louise cheered. “I’ll happily pay for your uber to her flat after brunch!”

Dan choked on the food in his mouth. He fumbled for his drink, downing half of his mimosa in one swallow. When he finally had control of his breath again, he turned back to Louise, affronted. “What the fuck, Lou?”

Louise looked taken aback by his outburst, her eyebrows high on her forehead and her eyes wide. “What? What?”

“Are you insane? I can’t break up with her today!”

Louise’s shock turned incredulous. “And why, pray tell, not?”

“That’s such a dick move! Valentine’s Day is the one day of the year that the entire fucking world agrees is supposed to be about romance. You know, the opposite of breaking up. You can’t dump someone on Valentine’s Day! Or at least not without a really, really good reason.”

“Um, she’s a massive bitch and has treated you like crap for almost a year. I think that’s a really, really good reason.”

“I said no, Lou,” Dan snapped. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll ask her to breakfast before she flies off to… wherever she’s supposed to go tomorrow night and… just do it then.” Dan said apathetically as he swirled the contents of his mimosa around. “I have no idea how I’m going to stomach tonight’s date. God, it’s going to suck.”

“Good luck with that, love.” Louise said rather facetiously and not quite as sympathetically as Dan was hoping for. “Do you want to —”

“Oh fuck,” Dan cut her off, suddenly remembering something. “I haven’t gotten her a present.”

“Good?” Louise responded, confused.

“No! Not good!” Dan exclaimed indignantly. “That means I have to get her something now. Today! I have to buy her something when I know I’m breaking up with her tomorrow. I can’t buy her anything too nice because one, I refuse to spend that kind of money on her and two, that will only get her hopes up. But if it’s too shitty, she’ll get mad and it will be a whole thing.”

“Dan, sweetie.” Louise said slowly, as if she were trying to explain something to a child. Her eyes twinkled with mirth. “Maybe you should take the fact that you even procrastinated buying a present until today as a sign that you shouldn’t be postponing breaking up with her until tomorrow morning.”

“No.” Dan’s voice came out harsher, tenser, than he intended. He tried to soften it. “It’s… I can’t do that. Okay? I’ve done my own share of shitty things to her. I don’t need to add to it.” Dan tapped his unused spoon on the table rapidly.

When Louise just looked at him blankly, perplexed, Dan continued.

“She’s mad about how much time I spend with Phil, about how we interact on twitter — I’ve told you that,” Dan tried to explain, his words rushed. “How do you think she’d react if she knew what we’re like in person? How flirty we are? The fact that we’ve both somehow seen each other shirtless? The fact that I’ve sat in his lap?”

Dan hung his head, defeated. His voice grew meeker and less heated. “But she’s right. She has every right to be mad. I’m no better than her. I don’t get to stand on some moral high ground and use her shitty behavior as an excuse for breaking up with her on the most romantic day of the year, not when I’ve been just as shitty.”

“I…” Louise floundered for a moment. “I didn’t realize things had gone that far with Phil.”

“I told you Louise,” Dan said tightly.

“I know you did. I didn’t know your feelings were that serious, though. I thought, hoped even, that they might be. But I didn’t know.” Louise reached out and covered Dan’s hands with her own, effectively stilling the tapping of the spoon.

Did it matter? Did it matter what Dan’s feelings or intentions had been? His behavior was the same: shitty.

“What?” Dan snapped, picking up his glass with the hand Louise was holding. “And all the flirting was okay when I didn’t think I was head over fucking heels for the guy, but the second I realize I might fucking love him, suddenly the behavior is unacceptable? I don’t think so, Louise. I think it was always toeing the line of something very, very dangerous. Even when I just thought it was a schoolgirl crush.”

“I guess you’re right,” Louise relented, briefly thumbing his cheek. “I’m just biased when it comes to you. I know that you have a heart of gold and wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt anyone.”

Dan shrugged but didn’t respond.

Louise was silent for a moment, staring at Dan like she was trying to read his soul. Self consciously, Dan averted his gaze, flitting his eyes around the room and taking in all of the nauseatingly heart-themed decor. It wasn’t exactly the reminder that Dan was looking for at this moment in time.

“Those are some big words, Daniel.”

Dan was tempted to play dumb, to pretend that he didn’t know what Louise was referring to. But his own words were bouncing around his head, echoing loudly in the vast numbness of his current mind. Crush. Head over heels. Love.

“I know,” Dan acquiesced, knowing he couldn’t avoid this conversation any more than he could the one about Isabella.

“So what about him?” Louise asked gently, more tender than she’d been thus far.

Dan chewed on his lip, pulling his gaze away from Louise and poking his fork at the remnants of his pancakes.

“What about Phil?” Louise repeated.

“I don’t know.” Dan huffed, still staring downward and fiddling with his cutlery.

Louise slapped Dan’s notebook against the table, effectively startling Dan into attention. “What do you mean you don’t know about Phil?” she asked fiercely. “According to this song, you very much know about Phil.”

“Look, Louise. You know I’m not great at dating. I’m either too distant and aloof, or I dive all in. And I dove all in with Isabella and it went to shit.”

“It went to shit because Isabella is shit.” Louise pointed out.

“I get that, but also I trusted her. I believed her when she said she loved me — when she said that she loved me for me, regardless of me being famous. Which, in hindsight, was not true.”

“How is this all connecting to Phil?”

Dan hesitated, shifting his sight back down to the table and running his cloth napkin through his hands. When he spoke, his voice came out smaller than he anticipated. “What if I’m wrong again?”

“Love,” Louise cooed, “it sounds like that boy is the sweetest, most genuine person on the planet. You really think he’d try to use you like Isabella did?”

“I mean, no. Not really. Not deep down anyway. But there’s still this gnawing fear about it.” Dan shoved his plate back some and drank the last bit of his coffee. Louise waited patiently for him to go on. “Besides, I don’t think I’m good enough for him.”

“Dan, you have made a lot of bad choices with relationships recently, but you deserve to be happy.”

“It’s not that — I mean, maybe it is a little. I was so fucking vulnerable in this relationship and it backfired and... Mostly it’s that I don’t think I’m in a good mindset to be anyone’s anything right this moment. And Phil — Phil could be the real fucking deal and I’m terrified of messing that up because I jump in too quickly.”

“So do you think you just need to take a little time to yourself first?”

“Maybe,” Dan hummed. “I mean. Yes. Definitely.” Dan nodded, more sure of his choice. “I just feel like I need to be on my own for a little bit, maybe work on myself.”

“I thought you hated being single, Mr. I Love Sex and Affection?” Louise sounded genuinely impressed beneath the teasing.

“I do,” Dan said with a smirk.

“But you’re willing to wait?”

“I want to, need to do this right.” Dan steeled himself, decision made. “And the right way to do it is to fucking figure my own shit out and deal with all this mess from Isabella before I just dive into Phil.”

Louise smiled, looking proud. “When did you get to be so emotionally mature, Daniel?”

“Shut up,” Dan muttered bashfully. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Whatever you say.” Louise swallowed the last bit of her mimosa.

Feeling a bit better about his shit situation, Dan leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply. Everything was going to be okay.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“One last thing, and then I swear we can move on, okay?”

Dan sighed. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Just don’t wait too long? He seems like a good egg, and I don’t want you to lose him because you’re scared.”

Dan blanched. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t keep Phil on the line forever. He didn’t want to do that either. He just needed to… to… sort himself out.

“I won’t, I promise.”

True to her word, Louise dropped the subject for the rest of brunch, letting their conversation drift to only the fun and salacious parts of their lives. Dan filled Louise in on his sister’s most recent boyfriend (the consensus was that he sounded okay), and Louise turned a shade of deep red while describing the failed position she and Tom had tried in the bedroom (why either of them looked at a position called the butter churner and decided to try it was beyond Dan).

It wasn’t until they paid their check and finished the last drops of their fourth — or fifth? — mimosa that Dan’s love life came up again — this time by his own doing.

“Louise, I hate to ask this, but can you please please please come to a jewelry shop with me? I have no idea what you’re supposed to get your girlfriend for Valentine’s Day when you’re planning to break up with her the next day,” Dan whined.

“How about nothing?” Louise suggested bitterly.

Dan shot her a stern look as he pulled his coat on and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

“Fine, fine. Maybe Tiffany’s sells a necklace that you can engrave with we’re over.” Louise snickered.

“Hilarious.” Dan said through his teeth, pulling her down the street towards the shops. He was thankful that Louise had picked a brunch place on high street. “Like fuck are we going to somewhere as expensive as Tiffany’s. You have a fifty pound budget and it has to be returnable, just in case.”

“Someone’s feeling generous,” Louise muttered sarcastically.

“I’m doing the best I can, okay?” Dan stuck his tongue out at Louise, happy to at least be able to do such a shitty task with his best friend.

“Fine, fine,” Louise conceded, starting to look around more seriously for a place they could shop. “How about this one?” she asked, tugging Dan into a jeweller that was packed with desperate looking men and women, staring down at the cases like they were a life raft in the middle of the ocean. Louise dragged Dan over to the clearance counter, waving her hand politely at the saleswoman.

She finished up with the man she’d just finished ringing up, and headed over to Dan and Louise.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Hi!” Louise smiled brightly. “He’d like to buy the nicest thing you have under fifty pounds that isn’t final sale, please.”

The woman’s eyes widened a little, but her tone remained that token customer-service cheerful. “We have a few options, I’m sure. What are you looking for sir? A necklace? Perhaps some earrings or a ring?”

“No!” Dan almost shouted. “Definitely not a ring. Literally anything but a ring.”

Dan looked at Louise and muttered under his breath, “I’d buy her a fucking broach before I bought her a ring.” Louise muffled her laughter into Dan’s shoulder and he had to cover his hand to quiet his own giggles.

The woman gave them a suspicious look but bent down to unlock the counter anyway, selected a few pieces of jewelry with her gloved hands, and placed them on a velvet tray.

“Here you are, sir. I hope one of these will be to your liking.” The saleswoman sat the tray down on the table for Dan to look at.

Unsurprisingly, there weren’t too many options. Dan knew that fifty pounds was an incredibly low budget, especially for a proper jewelry store, he just… didn’t care. He didn’t want to spend a single pence more than he had to on this.

Dan pulled the tray down the table some, moving away from the clearance rack, where it seemed a few people were competing to look. Louise moved with him, hovering over the options the woman had pulled out for them, and contemplating each piece.

“The earrings are nice and delicate, but the necklace is a bit gaudy,” Louise hummed.

Dan eyed the two pieces. The earrings were nice — they were simple gold studs with tiny pearls. The necklace, on the other hand, was a large, round, black onyx pendant on a chunky gold chain. The color of the chain clashed horrendously with the pendant, even Dan knew enough about women’s jewelry to know that.

“Great,” Dan pushed the tray back towards the saleswoman. “We’ll take the necklace, then.”

Both the saleswoman and Louise looked at Dan in shock. Louise sputtered, but the saleswoman tried to regain her composure, and finally said, “Wonderful! We’ve had this… special piece for a while now. Would you like me to gift wrap it for you?”

“Please,” Dan smiled, fluttering his eyes and pretending not to catch on to the woman’s subtle implications that the necklace was, in fact, hideous.

She wasn’t wrong. Dan just didn’t care. In fact, that was kind of the point.

While the saleswoman wrapped up the atrocious necklace, Louise poured over the cases and Dan fiddled on his phone. He noticed that Phil had DM’d him on twitter earlier.

Phil Lester: Hey! I thought you were coming by today?

Dan smiled, happy to discover that Phil still wanted to see him today. On Valentine’s Day of all days. Dan was quick to type a message back, not even bothering to censor his enthusiasm.

Daniel Howell: i will! Louise showed up for surprise brunch though, so i’ll be there on my way back from the shops

The saleswoman came back, setting the wrapped box on the counter in front of Dan with a forced smile. “Anything else, sir?”

“Sorry, do you mind if I see those earrings?” Louise interrupted, pointing to a pair of pretty flower earrings with diamonds for petals.

“Of course, miss.”

The earrings were even more beautiful up close. The center of the flower was a delicate, dimpled gold. They were earrings that Dan would easily consider buying for his mother or sister — he could see why Louise liked them.

“Dan, Dan, look how lovely they are,” Louise cooed.

“They are nice. I like the diamonds.”

“They’re actually part of our Mommy & Me collection,” the saleswoman said as she pulled out a pair of earrings from a neighboring case that neither of them had noticed. The earrings were similar to the first pair, but were smaller and had green stones instead of diamonds.

“Oh my gosh!” Louise gushed. “That’s so precious. Can you imagine Darcy and I running about in matching earrings?”

Dan smiled. “You both would look so adorable.”

“How much are they?” Louise asked.

“The Mommy ones are two-fifty and the daughter ones are one-fifty.”

Louise physically recoiled. “That’s too much,” she murmured. Dan looked over at Louise, who was still eyeing the beautiful pairs of earrings with a wistful smile.

“We’ll take them,” Dan said, pushing both pairs towards the sales woman.

The saleswoman’s eyebrows shot up, undoubtedly surprised that the customer who stomped in demanding something less than fifty pounds and bought the world’s ugliest necklace would impulse buy two pairs of earrings, each at least triple the price of his original budget.

“No no no no no, Dan.” Louise insisted. “Four hundred pounds for earrings for Darcy and I is ridiculous.”

Dan nodded to the saleswoman, signaling her to wrap up the earrings as well, and motioning to the cute “Mothers need Valentines, too!” bags next to the register.

“Lou, you put up with more of my shit than anyone should ever have to, and we all know Darcy is my favorite human being on the planet. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m short-changing my girlfriend, let me spoil my favorite ladies.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan could see the saleswoman’s jaw drop, but he didn’t respond. There was no point in trying to explain to her that his relationship was going to hell and he was breaking up with his girlfriend as soon as it was socially acceptable.

“Dan, really, we both know you love us. You don’t need to buy us expensive gifts.”

As Louise pleaded with Dan, the saleswoman motioned him down the counter, pointing to the register in front of her.

“Hush, I’m buying them.” Dan handed his credit card to the woman, smiling softly at Louise, who shook her head but didn’t say anything. When the saleswoman passed him back his card and the two bags, Dan handed the Mother! bag to Louise with a sheepish grin.

“Thank you,” Louise said softly, pressing a small kiss to Dan’s cheek. Dan looped his arm through Louise’s, gently pulling her towards the exit of the shop.

For a few minutes, Louise was content to walk in quiet peace. Dan should have known, though, that it wouldn’t last.

“So, when do I get to meet Phil?”

Dan blanched, tossing Louise a wary look.

“If you don’t introduce me to him, I’ll just stop by Beans and Grind to meet him myself.”

“Ugh, Louise. Soon, alright? Soon. I promise.”

Soon, Dan elaborated in his head, when maybe I can introduce him as something other than a friend.

a/n: and to think some of yall actually thought dan was gonna dump her on valentines day smh. looks, here’s just some friendly, good bants. see, he’s a good boy :)

[[next chapter]]

#slow burn #singer!dan #barista!phil #phan au #coffee shop au #iminclinedtowriting #phan #phanfic #phanfiction #love yourself #ly

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lillianwrites · 6 years

Text

Sad Hearts And Black Eyes

A/n: honestly I’ve been working on this for close or probably longer than a year, and I’m so scared to post it, but I hope someone enjoys this🖤 I’m going to try updating every Monday and Wednesday after today🖤All triggers in the tags, please check beforehand.

Words: 1,756

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Black tires screeched to a stop as the old light guarding the town turned straight from green to red. Phil groaned, as this added just another minute to his trip, and he was so ready to just get to the Kingston police station, and start working, he had travelled over 600 miles for this case, and he needed to stretch his legs and kill some ghosts.

Phil Lester was a hunter, no, not a bambi hunter, those who believe their tough because they took down a defenseless animal, but a hunter of the things that go bump in the night. His father had been a hunter, and he had taken after his footsteps after he had died sixteen years ago, relying on his “uncle” Bobby Singer, to show him the ropes, and to go on hunts with him, as he had been fourteen at the time.

He had travelled all the way to kingston, after he had read the paper, and saw the pastor had been brutally murdered in his own home, ripped literally form shred to shred. Phil had almost looked past it, usually spirits that angry had a personal feud with the deceased, meaning no one else would be in harm's way, and most likely it would be gone, until he saw the pastor had an eighteen year old son, who had been away when it had happened.

Phil had never heard of a personal spirit leaving close family alone, and the pastor's wife died in childbirth, so most likely, this kid was in danger, and Phil couldn't just let it happen when he saw the picture of the pastor and his son, who had brilliant, innocent brown eyes. So here he was, now taking off once the light was green, and travelling into kingston.

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The first thing Phil noticed, was the sidewalks were empty. Every single picture Phil had ever seen of Kingston, people were walking to their destinations, enjoying the sun, it was august, so it wasn’t cold, so most likely, people were too afraid to walk, too afraid of to them, who might have done this.

The police station was small only fifteen or so cars all together in the parking lot. It was a white and grey building, with steps leading up to it. Phil sighed looking out of his car, and then grabbing the secret box of fake badges out of the storage compartment, and placing it in his coat pocket.

He walked up to the door, and pulled it open, immediately getting hit with the smell of cinnamon and coffee. A tall lady sat at the desk, flipping through files, until she heard the bell ring and looked up. She had long brown hair, and what appeared to be grey eyes, and stood at at least 6’0. She had a kind smile on her face as he walked up to the desk, and he couldn't help but give her a grin as he pulled out the badge.

“I'm here with the fbi to handle the pastor case.” he said, looking at her before putting his badge away.

She grew a sad smile on her face, before nodding. “The chief's office is right through that door to the left, last door, let me know if you need anything.” She said, before looking back down to her papers, as Phil walked to the office door, heaving a sigh before knocking a few times.

“Come in.” Called a woman's voice, and Phil slowly turned the handle, walking in, to be met with a shorter lady, with a blonde ponytail, and green eyes. She wore a smile, but it seemed tense, and her eyes did not match the light in her smile.

“what can i do for you?” She asked, looking over Phil before sitting down in her chair, and crossing her arms.

Phil once again pulled out his badge, showing it to her, before putting it away and saying “My name is Garrett O'brien, i'm with the FBI, I've been sent to work on the pastor case.”

Just as the other woman at the desk, her smile turned sad as he mentioned the case, like they were close friends, and judging the size of the town, they probably were. It seemed like everyone around this place was in a sour and sad mood.

“I see, well, what do you need?” She asked, looking at him. She appeared content that someone else would be taking over on the dirty parts of the case, and maybe he felt the smallest hint of regret.

“I need the original file case, and a pass to the scene, alone.” He said looking at her. Hopefully she wouldn't question it, and he would be granted both.

The lady nodded, writing something on a sticky note, before placing it on a huge file of papers, and handing him a privilege badge. She then held out her hand.

“My name is deputy Garden, come to me if you need anything, or the lady who took you in the front. And please,” she cut off with a short break, an Phil prepared himself for a sob story, before she surprised him, her eyes a sad grey as she finished. “-find whoever did this, whatever did this, please bring this case justice. We’ll be here to help in anyway you need.” Before she sat down, giving him a final nod as a farewell.

Phil walked out of her office, exiting the station before walking to his car, his prized possession, his 1970, Pontiac GTO. It was a classic two door, matte black. He called her Baby, and whoever dared to talk down to his car was sure to receive a few broken ribs. He got in, not bothering to put on his seatbelt as he started the car and began driving to the pastors house.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Mrs. Garden had called him two miles into the drive to warn him the pastors eighteen year old son was at the house, and was willing to answer questions, but asked that he wouldn't be showed a picture of the body, his son had been the one to find him, and he couldn't unsee it.

When he pulled into the driveway, he noticed this was the picket fence house, a white fence around a big front yard, with an oak tree in the front yard, and a white and gold front door, with a wreath with a scripture engrave into the log in the center.

“Wow, this is what i was missing.” he mumbled to himself, as he got out of the car and went to knock on the door. He honestly felt very unholy surrounded by the garden Angels glaring at him beside the garden of Lilys in the front.

He stood on the doorstep for a minute, before the door was opening, and the son stood in front of him. Phils first thought was that pictures do not give him justice.

He stood probably around 5’6, short for a dude but nothing drastic. He had brown hair, that was in a curly mess upon his head, like he couldn't be bothered to brush it, and Phil didn't blame him. His eyes were a bit of a darker brown than his hair, and the sadness in them made Phil feel a little sick, he knew this was how Bobby must have seen him, why he said it hurt so much to watch him grow without his father.

The boy looked up at Phil's 6’2 frame with distrust, before most likely remembering that Mrs. Garden had told him he was stopping by.

“Are you Mr. O'brien?” The boy asked, shyly standing in the doorway.

Phil nodded “That's me, you must be..” cmon Phil, you read it. “Daniel.” He finished looking at the boy to make sure that he was correct.

Daniel nodded, before stepping back and opening the door farther so that Phil could step inside.

“I found him in his bedroom.” He spoke softly, like as if saying it loud and clearly made it real. Phil could understand that. “His, his insides were, well, outside.. and he was still warm, which really scared me, whoever could have still been here, i could have been killed the same way. But i wasn't?” he said, before shaking his head and making his way up the stairs, looking back to make sure that Phil was following him.

He led him to the upstairs level, and down the hallway, before stopping on the second door to the right. He then took a deep breath, before opening it up.

Inside the walls were a beige coffee creme kind of color, perhaps with more yellow undertones, there was a large bed in the middle of the room, with a brown comforter and three or four white and red pillows. A nightstand stood on the left side, and a dresser ln the right of the room. A huge white sliding door stood in the corner, obviously the closet door, and the room slowly turned into a thin hallway, leading into a bathroom that appeared to be the same color.

In the middle of the room, a huge red stain laid across the white carpet, clearly the police haven't finished reviewing it yet.

He heard Daniels breath hitch, and he turned to him. “Hey, if this gets too much, just tell me kid, don't worry about staying here just to help.”

Daniel nodded, but didn't leave, heading to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Phil looked around the room, usually if it was a spirit, something would have emf.

he turned to Daniel again “Would you mind getting me some water?” He asked turning back. Daniel nodded looking happy to leave this room, as he stepped out and went downstairs.

Phil hurriedly pulled out the small contraption, before he turned it toward the wall, peeking through the room. Just as he was about to lose hope that this was a spirit, a pissed off one at that, the machine spiked setting of a loud beeping sound, as he passed the closet.

He heard Dan rummaging inside the kitchen, so he figured it was safe as he opened up the closet door. It smelled of cinnamon, and the clothes all looked ironed and clean.

He rummaged around, passing things with the device before itg spiked yet again, over a box hidden at the back of the closet, he was beginning to lift up the lid and peek inside, when Dan's voice sounded from behind him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

#phan #phanfic #phan prompt #phanfic au #phanfiction #supernatural #angst #fluff #smut #mentions of blood and gore #character death (not a main character)#possessed dan

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nebulous-frog · 6 years

Text

The Next Night Ch. 3

Summary: Germany in 1937 was a hard place for anyone “different”. Dan just wanted to live his life, fall in love, and die surrounded by family, but his particular community was too “different”. Dan found himself hiding, wishing for a better world, maybe even finding it in the eyes of an unlikely savior.

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings (this chapter): Homophobia, Panic Attacks, Holocaust, Nazis

Word Count: 3715 (This chapter, 10,336 overall)

Challenge: 20k History Challenge

Genre: Holocaust, Slow Burn, Angst

Author’s Note: Sorry it's been literally over a month since I updated! Life got crazy but I'm still dedicated to finishing this fic, I promise lol Thank you again to @auroraphilealis for betaing!

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

I was anxious and afraid, as I had been for so long already, but now I was also venturing out alone into the perilous night for the first time since the raid began. There was nowhere to hide until I got to the alley. I was in the open, exposed, liable to arrest at any moment for any reason an officer could think of. It still astounds me to think of how lucky I was that night...

In the poorer quarter of the city, the government never bothered to use taxes to pay for street lamps, especially when that money could be used for the rich, or for the military, or really anyone but the people who needed it the most. As a result, there was very little light on the street. Only a few lamps were lit, but they were old and far-between, the burning kerosene providing no resistance against the blanket of darkness. Pockets of shadows remained nearly entirely unbroken, and it made it nearly impossible to see a threat before it was too late.

It made Dan walk slowly, his eyes darting around anxiously for any signs of trouble.

He vaguely saw what he assumed was a police officer (surely no one else would be out here this late) walking towards the bar on the opposite side of the street and felt his hands tremble violently in his pockets, but he kept his head down and tried to maintain an indifferent air.

Just keep walking, Dan. Don’t look him in the eyes because then he’ll really notice you. Remember what Phil said- no one will know you were in the bar unless you’re captured, so don’t do anything to get yourself captured.

The officer turned the corner to enter the bar, and Dan let out a shaky breath, some of the tension in his shoulders releasing.

See? You’re fine. Keep going. This is the second street here, I think.

Dan carefully looked back the way he’d come to confirm how far he’d gone.

Definitely the second street. Only two more after this, and then you’ll see the alley where you can wait for Phil. You can do this.

The farther he walked, the closer Dan got to a chance to hide again.The farther he walked, the closer Dan got to whatever the next step in his journey was.

Would he go home? Return to his life as if nothing had happened? Would that even be possible?

But hiding was almost a comforting thought. It had worked well enough for him so far tonight, after all. On the other hand, it was still just as terrifying as the rest of the night had been. When he hid in the alley, he would have nothing to do but sit and wait for some cop to come save him yet again.

How long has it been? Three minutes? Five? When Phil said it would be fifteen minutes, did he mean from the time I get to the alley, or from the time I left? What do I do if he’s not there in fifteen minutes?

What do I do if he is there?

As Dan crossed the third street, he felt himself begin to dread arriving at the alley. He wanted to slow his pace so he would arrive as late as possible, but he also knew that the longer he was out in the open, the more likely he was to be caught. But the alley meant there was nothing he could do but wait. It meant he was at the mercy of Phil’s schedule, which didn’t seem all that stable at the moment.

Why should I even trust him? He got me out of the bar, sure, but what will he do with me next? He knows my face and my first name, but nothing else, so maybe I should just go home. But he must know something I don’t. Maybe there are officers sweeping this area of the city and they arrest anyone they see.

Dan had seen raids before. Usually they happened during the day, and it was usually a raid on the Jews, but the police always seemed to set up a perimeter to question anyone who left the area during the raid. It was obvious they were looking for anyone who might try and sneak away. Dan was terrified that without Phil, he’d be caught at one of these perimeters. At least with Phil, there would be that extra level of protection for him.

Dan felt the frustration and fear building in him again. There was nothing he could do to save himself without following the instructions of a police officer, of all people. Someone who was supposed to arrest him was somehow the only man that Dan could trust right now, but there was no evidence that Dan should trust him. And if Dan didn’t trust this officer, he was likely to be arrested, anyway. Surely, no one would believe he hadn’t been at the bar if they caught him in the perimeter alone.

Nothing felt like a good option, but Dan had to stick with the one that had proven reliable so far.

He crossed the fourth street, and began looking for an alley.

A few meters away from the curb, an opening appeared to Dan’s right.

The alley was narrow, only about a meter wide, and almost no light was going into the space. There were no gas lamps to keep away the darkness, so what little light could be found came from the sky.

Dan glanced back the way he’d come, but saw no one.

Back to hiding, now. Phil should be here soon.

He stepped into the alley and immediately gagged at the stench.

He did say to hide behind some rubbish. I suppose I found it.

A few careful steps later and Dan found the source of the smell: a huge, rotting pile of garbage blocking the path to the end of the alley. Flies buzzed around food wrappers and glass bottles, and Dan was fairly certain he could faintly see a puddle of liquid oozing out of the bottom of the pile that smelled suspiciously like vomit.

Lovely, he thought sarcastically, gagging again. He covered his nose and began breathing through his mouth to try to protect himself from the smell.

Glancing back at the opening of the alley, Dan decided he’d gone far enough to stay hidden, since he hadn’t been able to see the rubbish from the entrance, so he crouched down to wait for Phil.

How long has it been now? It must have been at least ten minutes since I left the bar, I’m sure. But I still don’t know if that means Phil will be here in five, or if I still need to wait the full fifteen. If he’s not here in fifteen minutes, what do I do? Is it the same as when he left me in the closet and he told me to just keep waiting? And when he gets here, what will happen then? He said something about taking me to his flat for the night, but what about after that? The officers that saw my face might recognize me if I try to go back to my life, even if I can make it to my own flat.

Dan sighed quietly.

If only I hadn’t come to this awful bar.

The wait for Phil passed by agonizingly slowly. The minutes crawled by as Dan worried and wondered, leaving him with no sense of how long had really passed. It could have been five minutes, ten minutes, a full half hour, but it felt never-ending.

Dan worried that the smell from the rubbish would attach to his clothes and make him suspicious when Phil took him away. He worried that Phil wouldn’t come back, or that Phil would lead him somewhere just as horrible as if he’d been arrested.

He worried what his life was about to become.

Maybe I’ll be alright. I have to avoid a few police officers, but they have no proof of my behavior. I haven’t actually been sleeping around, and nobody saw me kissing Grant, so they’d have no reason to arrest me. I have to make it through tonight, then I can return to my own flat and my own life and pretend women hold my interest like men do, just like a good German man would. I’ll be alright, if I can just avoid the-

A soft sound broke through Dan’s thoughts.

Scuff-click, scuff-click, scuff-click…

Dan felt his heart start to race again.

Those footsteps sound like they’re from the boots of the police, but do they belong to Phil, or some man who’s going to find me and drag me away to die?

Dan glanced around himself, trying to find something to pick up to be able to fight should the need arise, but there was nothing. His only hope would come from his own fists and the darkness of the alleyway.

The footsteps got louder as they approached, and Dan felt himself tensing, coiling into himself like a spring ready to jump at whoever might find him.

Scuff-click, scuff-click, scuff-

“Dan?” whispered a voice as a vague figure appeared in the entrance to the alley.

Dan held his breath. He thought it was Phil, finally here to take him somewhere safe, but he couldn’t be sure; Dan had only heard Phil talk a few times, and he had been under a substantial amount of stress every time he’d heard Phil’s voice so far.

So Dan waited for further proof that it really was Phil rather than someone trying to arrest him.

But what if Phil still is trying to arrest me? He could look like a hero if he catches a stray that ran away, even if he technically let me go at first. Maybe this is all just a ruse for Phil to get a promotion.

The figure’s head turned slightly, checking both sides of the street once more, then shuffled into the alley.

“It’s alright, it’s Phil.”

The figure finally got close enough for Dan to make out the pale skin reflecting off the face just well enough for him to confirm that it was, in fact, Phil.

Dan heaved a deep breath, partially in relief and partially to prepare himself for the next stage in his journey.

“What now?” Dan asked, slowly standing up from next to the rubbish.

Now that Phil could tell where Dan was, he walked more purposefully to stand in front of Dan.

Dan took an involuntary step backwards because of Phil’s pace and sudden proximity, feeling the pressure of a wall pressing into his back.

“I’ve completed the work assigned to me, so I’m free to go home. There are still officers patrolling the perimeter to catch anyone who might have run away before we arrived, so it would be safest for you to come with me. I know how to avoid them.” Phil glanced back down the alley as if to make sure no one was about to enter at the other end. “I’ll take you to my flat, at least for the night, because I don’t want you to walk anywhere else alone tonight. Alright?”

Dan nodded carefully, eyes shifting between Phil’s face, nightstick, and the entrance of the alley.

I really don’t have a choice. I just have to hope that this will end up in my favor.

“Good.” Phil nodded once. He took a step back towards the entrance of the alley, looking around for signs of life on the street. Apparently he found none, as he turned back to Dan and waved him forward.

“Come on, then. The sooner we get moving, the better.”

The sooner we get moving, the sooner I can put this all behind me.

Dan took a deep breath, and walked towards Phil, the street, and freedom.

The street was empty when they stepped out together, side by side, although that wasn’t really a surprise. It must have been the early hours of morning by now, for one, and the raid of the bar would have chased away any remaining traffic.

Dan still found himself relieved that they were alone.

Should I be relieved? This man could still do anything he wants to me.

“Stop looking around so much. Keep your head facing forward or tilted towards me like we’re having a conversation,” Phil instructed.

Dan’s head snapped forward.

Have I been looking around? I hadn’t noticed…

“Glancing around like that is suspicious. You’re clearly checking to see if anyone else is around constantly, and you look paranoid. I know you’re anxious and afraid, but you have to trust me. I will get you through the night.”

Dan could feel Phil’s eyes on his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet them.

Trust. “Trust me,” he says. I don’t even know him.

Dan’s anxiety couldn’t be contained. He managed to keep his head facing forward rather than on a constant swivel, managed to keep his shaking hands hidden in his pockets as casually as possible, managed not to break out into a run as his brain screamed at him to get out.

But his brain would not be quieted.

With every step, Dan was reminded of where he was and who he was with. The sound of his own footsteps next to the constant scuff-click scuff-click he had begun to associate with police officers, danger, and an unknown, horrible death filled his ears and fueled the anxiety, the panic.

Eyes forward, keep walking, he thought to himself. It can’t be that much farther.

They walked in silence, not wanting to alert anyone in the area of their presence.

Dan so wished that this wasn’t his life. That he hadn’t decided to go to The Bird’s Nest tonight, that he hadn’t been born a defect, an outcast, an abomination. That he had fallen in love with an Aryan woman. That he could be a good German, just like everyone expected, demanded, of him.

That he didn’t have to live in fear of the unknown, facing the consequences of his own decisions and actions at the side of a man who still might arrest him.

That he didn’t have to walk silently down a street next to a dangerous stranger, trembling in fear and running from his own identity.

His heart ached for a better world, a better life. A simpler life.

Why couldn’t I have just been normal?

The silence beat down heavily on Dan’s mind, forcing him to keep worrying, worrying, worrying as they walked by street after street.

Time seemed to have disappeared somewhere between when Dan had arrived at The Bird’s Nest and now. Dan had no way of knowing how long he and Phil walked, how long he’d hid, or how long since the raid had begun, but it felt like he’d walked into the bar days ago. The Dan that had walked into The Bird’s Nest earlier that night already seemed a lifetime away from the Dan trudging along, the stench of garbage practically attached to his skin, desperate for a redo.

“Keep your head down; you’re crying again,” muttered Phil.

Dan flinched at the sound, but did as he was told and trained his eyes on the ground. He pulled a shaky hand from the pocket of his trousers and wiped at his cheeks, frustrated to find the wetness there.

Stop crying, dammit, it won’t help! It will only make things worse for you if you’re spotted!

Berating himself only served to cause more tears to fall, although Dan was conscious of them this time.

No, Dan, stop! They’ll find you! They’ll know! Stop crying, you piece of shit, this is going to get you killed!

When a sob bubbled its way out of Dan’s throat, he felt a hand latch onto his arm and pull, dragging him to the side. Another hand slapped over Dan’s mouth, muffling his instinctive cry of fear.

His back met the wall at the corner of a dark building, and he whimpered.

Phil’s eyes burned into Dan’s own, a slight panic flaring up in Phil’s expression.

Dan felt himself cringing backwards, trying to put as much distance between him and the officer as he could. He flailed his arms and legs in an attempt to break free, but there was no escaping the man’s grasp.

No, no, no, this is it. This is what I was afraid of, what I knew would happen if I came with him! I should have let them arrest me. I need to get away-

Dan thrashed violently, cries and shouts rising up in his throat again.

Phil roughly caught both of Dan’s wrists and pinned them to the wall above Dan’s head with one hand, then slapped his other back across Dan’s mouth.

“Dan, I need you to stop fighting me, and I need you to calm down,” Phil whispered frantically.

Stop fighting? Calm down? Like fucking hell, you lying, evil bastard! Dan thought, jerking his arms again. He remained pinned to the wall, but glared defiantly into the officer’s eyes.

Phil stared back with wide, honest eyes. Dan couldn’t tell if the colorful irises comforted him or disturbed him. Phil’s brows were wrinkled in concern, and he spoke in an earnest whisper.

“I will not hurt you. I know you’re scared, and I know you don’t think you can trust me. There’s nothing I can do to make you feel better right now, and there’s nothing I can do to make you trust me beyond what I’ve already tried to do for you. But if you let your emotions run wild, this will not end well for either of us. We’re almost to my flat. It’s only two streets away, alright? Please let me help you,” Phil pleaded desperately.

Dan stopped thrashing, realizing it would do him no good anyway, but stood firm, his muscles taut. He scanned Phil’s face skeptically in an attempt to determine the man’s true intentions.

He hasn’t hurt me yet. He was rough, but he hasn’t hurt me.

Dan stared into Phil’s eyes, but still only found sincerity.

I don’t know him well enough to know for certain, but he might be telling the truth. He might really want to help me, after all of this. Either way, I can’t get home without running the risk of getting caught, so I have to calm down.

The tears were still streaming out of Dan’s eyes, worsened by the stress Phil had just added by pulling him aside so suddenly, but Dan made an effort to steady his breathing. He closed his eyes and focused on clearing his mind, only thinking about the immediate future.

He would indicate to Phil that he was calm, then they would continue walking. They’d arrive at Phil’s flat, Dan would stay for one night, and then leave for his own flat the next morning.

But then what? What about the officers who saw your face?

Dan shook his head to himself, clearing the doubts and concerns.

Walk to the flat. Get out of the open. Walk to the flat. Get out of the open.

Finally, Dan opened his eyes and nodded at Phil.

Tentatively, Phil released Dan and slowly backed away.

Dan wiped the remaining moisture from his face, then let his arms fall to his sides.

Walk to the flat. Get out of the open.

He nodded again, then made eye contact with Phil again.

“Let’s go,” Dan mumbled, voice shaking.

Phil’s eyes scanned his face as if to make sure Dan wouldn’t have another outburst, then gave a curt nod, features hard and determined. He turned and continued walking down the street. Dan took a deep breath, and followed close behind.

Walk to the flat. Get out of the open. They’ll have a harder time catching you if you’re hiding.

Dan trained his eyes on the ground and counted his steps in the hopes that it would distract him from the flurry of thoughts threatening to overpower him yet again.

Don’t think about it. Stop thinking about the bar. Stop thinking about the screams, and the waiting, and the fear, and the unknown-

Stop it. Find a distraction. Dan closed his eyes and breathed for a moment, still walking.

One, two, three, four, …

He made it to 23 before his thoughts crept back in.

What will happen next? Will I sleep at his flat and go home in the morning? What if it’s still not safe? How will I know when it’s safe?

Dan shook his head.

Walk to the flat.

One, two, three, four, …

Scuff-click, scuff-click, scuff-click, …

Phil’s footsteps echoed in Dan’s brain, and Dan shuddered.

Get out of the open.

Nine, ten, eleven, twelve, …

Dan forced himself to focus on his own footsteps, since anything else would send him spiraling into a fear-induced panic again. He kept his head bent and his hands stuffed into his pockets, creating as few distractions from his count as possible.

Within a few short strides, he was so engaged in counting his steps that he almost didn’t realize that Phil had stopped walking.

“We’re here,” Phil muttered, pulling out a key from his pocket.

Dan jumped, then turned to his right to see the building Phil had led him to.

In the darkness of the night, it was hard to see much of the architecture, but Dan could tell that the building was worn and run-down. The brick seemed to be crumbling in more places than not, and the windows above were cracked.

Despite its uninviting exterior, Dan found himself itching to get inside.

Inside would be hidden, private, and maybe even safe - at least for a short time.

Phil unlocked the door, then stepped aside, gesturing for Dan to enter.

“Go on,” Phil whispered tiredly. “We can talk inside.”

Dan swallowed heavily, hesitating. He still wasn’t sure he could trust Phil.

Go inside. Get out of the open. You don’t know what he might do to you, but he’s taken you this far. You have to trust him.

With one last glance up and down the street, Dan nodded once to himself in determination, then carefully stepped past Phil and into the flat.

#phan #phanfic #holocaust au #angst #panic attacks #the next night

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