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elleberquist6 · 6 years

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Play Upon Me Like This Piano - chapter one

Summary: In many ways, Phil's life is perfect: he loves his life in London, he has a wonderful brother and parents, and he has a great job as a radio DJ for BBC Radio One. There's only one thing missing in his life... A rumor reaches an executive at the BBC about a talented local piano player named Daniel. The executive decides that Daniel would be the perfect guest on Phil's radio show, so she send Phil to speak with the evasive and mysterious piano player.

When they finally meet, Phil starts to think that he has found the person who will make his life complete. Unfortunately, Dan has a secret that will make getting close to him difficult.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3777

Warnings: Smut

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Excerpt from “The Soul Cages” By T. Crofton Croker:

The Merrow, of if you write it in the Irish, Moruadh or Murúghach, from muir, sea, and oigh, a maid, is not uncommon, they say, on the wilder coasts. The fishermen do not like to see them, for it always means coming gales.

Jack Dogherty lived on the coast of the county Clare. Jack was a fisherman, as his father and grandfather before him had been. Like them, too, he lived all alone… Many a strange sight, it may well be supposed, did Jack see, and many a strange sound did he hear, but nothing daunted him. So far was he from being afraid of Merrows, or such beings, that the very first wish of his heart was to fairly meet with one.

Accordingly, one day when he had strolled a little farther than usual along the coast to the northward, just as he turned a point, he saw something perched upon a rock at a little distance out to sea. It looked green in the body, as well as he could discern at that distance. Jack stood for a good half-hour straining his eyes, and all the time the thing did not stir hand or foot. At last Jack’s patience was quite worn out, and he gave a loud whistle and a hail, when the Merrow (for such it was) started up, put the cocked hat on its head, and dived down, head foremost, from the rock.

Jack’s curiosity was now excited, and he constantly directed his steps towards the point; still he could never get a glimpse of the sea-gentleman with the cocked hat. One very rough day, however, when the sea was running mountains high, Jack Dogherty determined to give a look at the Merrow’s rock, and then he saw the strange thing cutting capers upon the top of the rock, and then diving down, and then coming up, and then diving down again. Jack he wished now to get acquainted with the Merrow, and even in this he succeeded.

One tremendous blustering day, before he got to the point whence he had a view of the Merrow’s rock, and there, to his astonishment, he saw sitting before him. It had a fish’s tail, legs with scales on them, and short arms like fins. It wore no clothes, but had the cocked hat under its arm, and seemed engaged thinking very seriously about something.

Jack, with all his courage, was a little daunted; but now or never, thought he. So up he went boldly to the cogitating fishman, took off his hat, and made his best bow. “Your servant, sir,” said Jack.

[http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/yeats/fip/fip21.htm]

CHAPTER ONE

It would have been any hole-in-the-wall bar, except there was something special about this place. That special thing was what had Phil Lester walking through the doors tonight, sent on an errand by his boss.

At first glance, the bar was much like any other small establishment of its sort in London. Even the fact that it was in a historic area was nothing to boast about – there were hundreds of bars in London that could brag that they had been sliding beers across their counters for hundreds of years. While the atmosphere of an old place could be charming at first glance, all polished wood and quirky decor, after lingering for a moment it quickly became apparent that the yellowed wallpaper had been discolored by the cigarette smoke of patrons from long before the laws had changed, and the smell wouldn’t quite fade, no matter how often it was scrubbed. And there was nothing charming about that.

Phil had arrived a bit earlier than he had intended, so he took a seat at the bar, which was mostly empty. He wasn’t much for going to places like this, but he was more accustomed to stereotypical pubs with a cluster of men shouting at a rugby game on a tv near the bar. However, this bar was different – it was classier. There were tables where couples could enjoy a meal, though only a few people were there at this early hour. Soft jazz music was playing from speakers mounted near the ceiling.

Phil smiled. This place might be a hole in the wall, but it was nice. He usually avoided bars because they were loud and packed with rowdy people, but this place was more his style. As the bartender arrived to serve him, Phil gave him a broad smile.

The bartender said, “Hi there, I’m Johnathan. What can I get you?”

“A cocktail. Um…” Phil looked around for a menu but didn’t see one nearby. “Something sweet.”

“I make a mean Hurricane.”

“I’ll take it,” Phil said with a grin. “Thanks, Johnathan.”

“I’ll pay for it,” said a man who slid into the barstool beside him.

Phil’s eyebrows rose, since he hadn’t been expecting that, and it took him a few seconds to recover from the shock. He was single, so there was no harm in accepting the drink and talking to this guy for a moment, so he composed his face and turned to the bold stranger with a smile.

The first thing that Phil noticed was that the stranger’s hair was styled in a similar way to his own. Well, it would have been similar, but Phil had recently started combing his black fringe back from his face in a quiff. The stranger had his brown fringe combed across his forehead, and Phil liked it, thinking that they might have a common emo past. Maybe they liked the same kind of music.

“Thanks for the drink,” Phil said.

“You’re welcome,” the brown-haired stranger said. He bit his lip, hesitating before saying, “I don’t want this to be weird, so I’ll just come out and say this: I know who you are.”

Phil stiffened. “Oh? Who am I?”

“You’re Phil Lester. You host a show for BBC Radio 1. I know you probably get people coming up to you all the time, but I hope the fact that I’m upfront about why I’m talking to you has earned me some points. Please? I’ll go away if I’m annoying you.”

Phil’s Hurricane arrived at this time, and the stranger stopped talking while the bartender was nearby, wiping a spot on the countertop. Phil took the opportunity to enjoy a sip of the cocktail, savoring the sweetness of the grenadine with the smooth rum. He turned back to the stranger with the smile. “You’re not annoying me. It’s okay. And I appreciate that you’re being honest – I thought you came over to flirt at first.”

The stranger’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I like women. You’re cute though. I’d be into you if I liked men.”

Things were a bit awkward now and Phil regretted mentioning it. So, he decided to change the subject, as he asked, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Okay, about that…” The brown-haired man took a deep breath as he tried to relax. Once he’d steadied himself, he said, “I just wanted to talk to you about my music.”

Phil kept his face carefully composed. This wasn’t the first time a hopeful musician had randomly approached him, and it wouldn’t be the last. Some people in his position would be annoyed and snap that they had no control over what was played on the radio, but Phil had resolved to be polite, listen, and then direct the man to where he could submit his music. So, he said, “What kind of instrument do you play?”

“Acoustic guitar. And I sing!” The man answered excitedly. “I do a lot of covers of songs, but original work as well. Actually, I recorded a single. I have it on a CD in my car. If you wait here, I can go get it and—”

This was where Phil drew the line, so he held up his hands, hoping that he wasn’t crushing this guy’s dreams. He hated disappointing people, but there was nothing he could do. “Um, actually… I’m sorry, but I don’t accept submissions. I’m sure your music is great, but I don’t have control over what is played on the radio. The BBC has a PO Box where they accept CDs. They also accept things online in MP3 format if you send in a form. I can give you the form, but there’s nothing else I can do.”

“Oh,” the man said as he sagged in his seat. “Yeah, that makes sense. I get that your job isn’t to find new talent.”

Phil bit his lip, since that wasn’t exactly true. His boss had heard about a piano player who regularly worked as an entertainer at this bar, and she had sent Phil here to listen. If the guy was as good as the rumors said, Phil was supposed to approach him to offer an appearance on his radio show. It was unlike anything he had ever done for the BBC before, and his boss wouldn’t be pleased if he brought her a CD from a stranger he met at a bar, so there was nothing he could do for this guitar player.

Phil rolled the cocktail between his palms. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help. I feel guilty drinking this now.”

“Oh, don’t be. Enjoy it. Accept it as payment for putting up with my annoying presence,” the man said with an awkward smile.

“You’re not annoying.”

“Seriously?” The man snorted. “Have you heard my voice?”

Phil laughed before enjoying another sip of the cocktail. “I like your accent. Are you Canadian?”

“Yup. Oh! I haven’t told you my name, have I?” He extended a hand to Phil. “I’m Robert. Thanks for being so nice.”

Phil shook his hand, feeling fingers calloused by the musician’s trade. “Nice to meet you, Robert.”

After he let go of Phil’s hand, Robert gestured to a stage across the room, near the tables and chairs that were slowly filling as the night crowd entered the bar. “Phil, I know you’re not here for the music, but I hope you’ll stick around. Just for the entertainment value of the evening. I’m planning to put on a good show tonight.”

Once more, this stranger had surprised him. Phil asked, “Oh, are you performing?”

“Yeah, I work here regularly as an entertainer. I’m opening tonight, so you wouldn’t have to stick around for long to hear me.”

“I’m going to stick around,” Phil reassured him with a smile. He was supposed to stay here to listen to the piano player anyway, so he might as well make this stranger happy at the same time. Robert was the kind of guy who he could see himself being friends with anyway – if this whole encounter hadn’t been so awkward. But maybe they could get past that.

“Great! I look forward to seeing you in the crowd.” Robert slid off the stool and then walked away, leaving Phil to enjoy the last of the Hurricane.

Until the live music started, Phil passed the time by sitting at the bar, playing Animal Crossing on his phone. It wasn’t long before he heard a microphone screech as it was turned on. Phil shifted on the barstool so that he could see the stage.

Robert was sitting on a wooden stool with a guitar resting on his knees. He was messing with the microphone to adjust its height, which made it screech again. He leaned in to say, “Sorry about that. Um, hi there. I’m Robert. I’m going to sing a cover for you tonight. This is an awesome song that I used to perform live a lot at my school. It’s a classic, really. This song was pretty much the song that would get the most audience interaction, so… yeah, I always enjoy that.”

After clearing his throat, Robert began strumming his guitar in the familiar rhythm and tune of I Would Walk 500 Miles, and Phil settled against the bar as he enjoyed Robert’s rendition of it. Robert did a good job of filling the room with energy, and soon the people watching were clapping to the beat of the music. As the crowd got into it, Robert relaxed and his awkwardness faded. Phil was enjoying it, so he applauded enthusiastically after the song.

Robert’s set continued for a few more covers, but then his time on the stage came to a close. He leaned into the microphone. “I want to thank you all. You’ve been a lovely audience and I’ve had a lot of fun tonight. I’m going to turn the stage over to my colleague, Daniel Howell. Be sure to give him a warm welcome.”

Recognizing the name of the piano player who his boss had sent him here to see, Phil sat up straighter in his seat as he focused on the stage. Robert stepped down from the stage and exited through a staff doorway to the left with his guitar. A moment later, another man stepped through the door.

Most of the people in the room like Phil were expectantly tracking the piano player’s entrance, but he didn’t look up as he walked up the steps. This was in stark contrast to Robert, who had entered with a nervous smile and an eager wave to the audience at the tables. The piano player just acted oblivious to it all. Without even glancing at the people in the room, he glided towards a piano near the back of the stage. The piano was angled so that he faced the audience when he sat on the stool behind it, and there was a microphone mounted on top of it.

Without a word, he started playing a tune that Phil didn’t recognize. The notes drifted softly through the room, just as noninvasive and unimposing as the man who had drifted into the room to play them. The music wove around the room until it transformed the atmosphere, softening it, and Phil found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Phil looked around the room, seeing other people relax. Unlike the guitar player who had perched on the edge of the stage, demanding the audience’s attention, this performer allowed his audience to listen passively as they returned to whispered dinner conversation. This made Phil frown as he focused on the piano player – Daniel Howell was talented, sure, but so far he hadn’t done anything extraordinary. Nothing that would stir a rumor prompting an executive at the BBC to send Phil here to investigate. It made him curious, so he looked closer for something he might have missed.

The man was dressed in black from head to toe, like he wanted to blend in with the shadows in the room, but that wasn’t likely to happen. His face was stunning, which Phil could note even at the considerable distance from the bar to the stage. He had dark eyes with long lashes that splayed across his cheeks as he looked down to focus on the keys which he worked with his elegant fingers. Daniel’s hair was lovely, too. It was a mass of tousled brown curls that was swept to the side across his forehead.

When Daniel looked up suddenly and his eyes scanned the crowd, Phil’s heart skipped a beat when the piano player’s eyes passed over his face. Maybe there was something to the rumors about this man? Phil had expected Daniel’s attention to return to the keys after a moment, but he continued playing without looking down. Instead, he leaned towards the microphone mounted on top of the piano. He started to sing.

For many hours after this moment, Phil would try to recall what Daniel had sung. He would never be able to remember a single word of it. If Daniel’s piano playing had drifted softly through the room, then the notes of his song sparked along the synapses of Phil’s brain. The music invaded his mind. His head felt funny, almost like he was drunk with the music.

Everything in the room was fuzzy – everything but the lovely man who was singing as he sat behind the piano. All Phil could see was Daniel’s beautiful face, glowing in the soft yellow lighting that was strung from the ceiling above the stage. His dark eyes were sparkling. The slight tan of his skin was radiant.

And his voice… Phil still couldn’t say what the words of the song were, but he found that his heart had started beating in time with the rhythm of the music. It felt like Daniel was holding his life in his hands – Daniel was his master, and Phil’s heart was only allowed to beat at a certain pace decided by the singer. And Phil couldn’t have been happier about that fact.

Time had ceased to have meaning, so it felt like both an instant and also a lifetime had passed when Daniel stopped singing and took his hands away from the keys. Phil’s heart stuttered in his chest before resuming its normal rhythm, and he blinked a few times before shaking his head to clear it. When he reopened his eyes, he saw several other people in the room trying to shake off the spell that Daniel had cast over them. Gradually, the normal noises of the bar resumed, which seemed obscene in comparison to the beautiful music that had filled the space a moment before.

As Phil shook his head once more and rubbed his eyes clarity finally arrived, and he remembered that he came here to talk to the piano player. When he looked up, he saw that the stage was now empty and Daniel had left the room. Phil rose from the bar stool and walked towards the staff door, thinking that since Robert had walked through it after his performance, perhaps Daniel went that way, too. As he approached the door, the bartender from earlier pushed through the door carrying a towel, and he blinked in surprise to see Phil standing outside.

“Um, hi again, Johnathan. Is Daniel Howell back there? Could I speak to him?”

The bartender shook his head. “Sorry, man. He left right after he got off the stage. Maybe you could catch him tomorrow? He’s performing again.”

“Thanks,” Phil said with a sigh. Then he headed for the door and started walking home.

When Phil turned on his laptop later that night, there was an email from his boss asking him if he went to see Mr. Howell’s performance tonight. Phil bit his lip as he contemplated emailing back now. While he had hoped to accomplish more before reporting back to his boss, the whole thing had been phrased as more of a friendly request than a job. Also, he had made some progress, so he had something to report. Phil typed:

Hi, Gina.

I saw the piano player, and he was everything you’d been hoping for. He’d be great to have on the show. I wanted to invite him on as soon as I heard him, but he left right after. Apparently he’s performing tomorrow, so I’m going to go back to try again. I’ll let you know how that goes.

-Phil

After a quick trip to the kitchen to microwave some popcorn for a late-night snack, Phil settled before the tv. He left it on a cooking show while he enjoyed his popcorn. His laptop was still open on the coffee table, and it pinged with a notification to let him know that he had a new email. He saw that his boss had responded to his email, and he pulled his laptop closer to read it:

Phil,

Thanks for doing this. I know that none of this is a part of your usual job duties, so I want you to know that I appreciate the fact that you’re going above and beyond. I hadn’t explained earlier why I sent you down there, when this isn’t our usual process. I’d like to explain now.

Daniel Howell has been very evasive. We have tried contacting him by phone, email, even snail mail, but no response. I’m hoping that Mr. Howell has a different reaction when the offer comes from the mouth of an actual radio show host.

So, he really was as good as I’d been told? What did he perform? Thanks again!

-Gina

Well, there was no avoiding that question, and putting off answering wouldn’t help. Phil’s face was flushed as he typed and sent his reply:

My memory is a bit hazy at the moment, but yes he was very good. Sorry I can’t give you any specifics.

-Phil

Gina’s response came in only a couple minutes later, but it took Phil a few more moments to find the courage to see what his boss said. Finally, he read:

You were a bit sloshed? :D I’m not going to judge you for having a drink – you were off the clock. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Good night. Don’t forget to drink some water.

-Gina

Phil exhaled in relief. Not that he had expected Gina to be upset with him. He tried to keep things professional with her, but Gina was a friendly boss who had always tested that barrier and assured Phil that he could be casual around her. In moments like this where he felt he hadn’t done his best at work – though her comment about being off the clock had been true – he appreciated that she was understanding. She was so understanding that she often pointed out to him that he was a workaholic.

Sighing, Phil closed his laptop and settled onto his sofa, intending to go to bed once he finished his popcorn. He was off work tomorrow and he had the whole day to himself until he had to go back to the bar tomorrow night. He’d sit on the sofa, try to relax on the internet, and not think about things that he could do to prepare for his radio show. He needed to remember how to have fun. Tonight had really shown him that.

Phil had forgotten how to do normal things like go to a bar, have a drink with a guy who might become a friend, and admire a beautiful face across a room. It had been a long time. And it had also been a long time since he looked forward to the plans he had tomorrow night; he could almost forget that it was sort of for work. All he could think about was the fact that he was going to finally talk to the captivating singer who he couldn’t get off his mind.

____

A/N:

Special thanks are especially in order, since this is the first time I've worked with betas. Thank you so much to:

- to @msdorebom for beta reading the first couple chapters, I was honored to be her first time beta-ing :)

- to @hydrangea-fireheart on tumblr for also reading the first couple chapters, and for having the discussion with me that led to chapter 3

- and to AmazingDandroid on AO3 for beta reading those chapters and the rest, and for being especially helpful with the stuff about music and listening to me whine about things like wanting to change the title for 2 weeks

Also to:

- to PastelSkysz on AO3 for having the discussion with me about mythology that led to me have this idea!

#phandom #phanfiction #phanfic #dan and phil #dan x phil #sirens #mermaid #merman

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