#I’m bi but like. precariously. I often feel like I don’t know if I really am and so I relate a lot to this possibility

[cas-poisoning]

I’m bi so I’m definitely not trying to undermine Dean as a bi character in a show like spn but I really am fascinated by the implications of Dean being gay.

[hale-13]

Syncope

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 18 Prompt - Collapse

Peter Parker was weirdly magnetic. He was also an absolute dumpster fire of a person much to Tony’s chagrin.

Words: 1552, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner

TW: Fainting

Read on AO3 of below the line break.

Tony would be the first to say that Howard Stark was a pretty shit parent. He would also be the first to say that, when he met Peter Parker and drug him off to Germany to fight the Avengers that he could be considered to be a pretty shit mentor. He was determined not to repeat the sins of his father if it was the last thing he did which is why, after Peter turned down his spot on the team, Tony groveled to May Parker and, finally, offered the kid a real, bonafide Stark Industries internship.

Tony tried to remain professional – just some tinkering with the Spidey suit, the chance to play with some cool tech – but Peter Parker was oddly magnetic and, well, could you really blame Tony for quasi-adopting the kid? Once their weekly meetings evolved to twice a week and then into movie nights May Parker set up what she coined ‘co-parenting lunches’ and gave Tony a very firm talking to on what his behavior better look like going forward.

He resolved to never introduce her to Pepper after that conversation – he’d never survive.

That was months ago, though, and things were going pretty swimmingly if Tony said so himself. Peter was over increasingly often and had his own room in the penthouse, May had started to warm up to him more due to their bi-weekly lunch dates and Ross was – for once – off his ass.

Yeah everything was coming up Tony.

“Hey kid,” he called as the music in his workshop cut down and the doors slid open to admit Peter. “Be with you in a sec!” He was so close to finishing this segment of his repulser – it had been a right pain in the ass the whole day and he was ready to just be through with it. Peter didn’t respond but he sometimes didn’t when he could tell that Tony was super busy so he just carried on, finishing about ten minutes later with Dum-E’s… assistance… and he dropped his precision tools with a sigh and a pop of his back.

“Sorry about that buddy,” Tony called as he turned around. “You wouldn’t believe how long that’s been – what’s wrong with you?”

Peter ducked his head quickly but not fast enough to keep Tony from seeing his bright red cheeks, pale features and gigantic eye bags. He was wearing the MIT hoodie Tony had given him (definitely a comfort item whether Peter wanted to admit it or not) but also subtly trembling. Peter let out a suppressed and hoarse cough and muttered a unconvincing ‘Nothing,” that had Tony rolling his eyes.

“Yeah sure,” Tony agreed, standing from his stool and coming to stand in front of Peter, reaching out with the back of one hand to feel the kid’s sweaty and clammy forehead – Peter failing spectacularly at dodging and nearly falling off his stool in the process – and grimacing at the clear fever he could feel. “Your brains melting a little there kiddo.”

“I’m fine,” Peter insisted, his voice cracking and nasally doing nothing to assuage Tony’s concern. “Seriously I am,” Peter said after shirking under Tony’s raised eyebrow. He followed this up by sneezing violently three times and then having the gall to try and paste an innocent look on his face.

Teenagers. Gremlins the lot of them.

“You’re really doing great work making me believe you,” Tony told him pointedly. “I mean look at me – totally convinced.”

Peter deflated a little and pouted, full on sulking now. “You don’t have to rub it in,” he groused and Tony chuckled at him.

“Want to actually tell me what’s going on? Or do you plan to just suffer? That’s a Gen-Z thing right? Suffering?” Peter ignored his jabs and coughed Welty into his elbow before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt making Tony crinkle his nose in disgust.

“Just a cold,” Peter tried, not even trying to meet Tony’s eyes. Guilty. Oh so guilty.

“Uh huh. A cold,” Tony nodded. “And how long have you had this cold that comes with a… uh fever check FRI?” He called out to his AI, making Peter whine in protest and drop his forehead down to rest on the lab table where he was seated.

“103.1 Boss,” FRIDAY called out in her soothing lilt and Tony winced a little in sympathy.

“Thanks dear. A 103.1 degree fever apparently. Jeez kid please tell me you didn’t go to school like this,” the set in Peter’s shoulders, however, told Tony all he needed to know and he let out a put upon sigh. “So you went to school like this. Great. You’re in luck – Bruce happens to be around today to take a look at you. Come on – up!”

“Noooo,” Peter griped, not picking his head up from the table or making any effort to stand at all. “I said I’m fine! I don’t need to go to the MedBay!”

“You’re resting temperature is usually around 96.5 so, yes, your fever alone qualifies you for an all expense paid visit. Don’t make me drag you – neither one of us wants that.” Tony said firmly, poking the side of Peter’s head insistently. Peter groaned again and clumsily batted Tony’s hand away before going to stand up. Halfway to his feet Peter’s eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped like a lead weight, Tony only barely able to catch him before he knocked his head on the side of the table.

“Should have expected this,” Tony grouched, lowering Peter carefully to the floor to rest with his head on Tony’s thigh. It wasn’t the first time the kid had fainted on him and Tony was regretful to say that he was old hat at it now. Tony cared about the kid but, Lordy, if Peter wasn’t an absolute magnet for danger and problems. “FRI?”

“Dr. Banner has been notified. He says to bring Peter up when he regains consciousness,” FRIDAY relayed and Tony nodded, expecting as much.

“Alrighty then. Time to wake up Pete, this isn’t a good look. You don’t want me to have to call May at work do you?” Tony threatened without heat, he would be texting May an update later but there was no need to pull her from work, rubbing the ridges of his fist against Peter’s sternum to stimulate a response.

“Ugh,” Peter groaned, pinching his eyes shut further and flinching away from Tony’s hand. “Stop,” he grunted, turning his face into Tony’s stomach to block out the light.

“No can do kid,” Tony told him, tapping the side of Peter’s face with a couple fingers to keep him awake and alert. “You just took a lovely little nose dive so no sleeping until Brucie looks at you comprende?”

“I passed out?” Peter asked, confused but cracking his eyes open to slits and looking more irritated than anything.

“Oh magnificently,” Tony confirmed, slipping an arm under Peter’s shoulders and lifting him up to sit, leaning, against the leg of the desk. “You feel dizzy or anything? Gonna faint again if you stand?”

“I’m good,” Peter said, swaying for a moment before listing into Tony’s side. It didn’t inspire much confidence.

“Sure you can,” Tony sarcastically mumbled with an eye roll before slipping one arm under Peter’s knees and the other under his back, lifting him into his arms with a grunt. Peter groaned out his displeasure but made no effort to try to escape, solidifying Tony’s decision to just carry him upstairs.

Bruce, to his credit, didn’t seem too surprised by this turn of events and was well aware that Peter was a little human disaster with no self-preservation instincts at all and was quick to get Peter situated on the exam bed much to the kid’s obvious displeasure. “How long have you felt sick and what are your symptoms?” Bruce asked brusquely, rolling a stool over to sit next to the bed, StarkPad perched precariously on his crossed legs.

“It’s just a cold,” Peter told him prompting yet another eye roll from Tony and a put upon sigh from Bruce. Peter rolled his shoulders inward and crossed his arms over his chest in submission. “Since yesterday,” he admitted.

“Symptoms?” Bruce prompted, typing something onto the screen of the tablet.

“Coughing and sneezing for sure and I’m assuming a headache as well. Obviously the fever and the fainting. Am I missing anything Pete?” Tony asked, answering for the kid when it was clear Peter wasn’t going to himself without them literally pulling teeth.

“That about covers it,” Peter said, staring into the corner with his arms still crossed over his chest.

Bruce nodded like it was all to be expected. “Probably some sort of virus then,” he said. “Not a cold but we’ll do the normal battery of bloodwork and cultures to be sure. I’ll send a nurse in to get everything in a few minutes.”

And with that the man bustled out of the room, leaving Tony to perch on the abandoned stool next to Peter’s bed. “Can we just agree to have you tell me the next time you’re sick instead of passing out on me?”

Peter just groaned and tried to smother himself with one of the pillows while Tony laughed – at least he wasn’t stabbed again.

[fancyemowolfbat]

Thoughts on Castlevania S3: Taka and Sumi’s abuse of Adrian

Season three spoilers below: and yes, this is plot heavy. So if you haven’t seen yet, read at your own risk.

But the TL;DR: I love Castlevania and this scene only made me love it more.

To start: This is entirely an opinion post. I don’t have enough energy to make it into a full analysis with resources and other things. So don’t take this as an essay with some deep meaning. This is entirely just an impressions post.

I love this scene. I love the writing and the visuals. And I love that it was handled in a very real manner. And I love that it represented abuse correctly, because make no mistake-- this scene was abuse--at the very least, and rape at worst. But I’m not saying that for the reasons others have given. But I’m going to get back to that in a moment.

I’m going to leave out the controversy that’s been spat about this scene, because honestly, I don’t feel like talking about it. Like I said, I’m tired. And I’m not gonna harass someone else over their opinions just because they’re different than mine. If you didn’t like this, that’s totally fine. Please don’t ask me to debate, I’m not interested in . I’m simply enjoying this show in my own little corner, and am sharing my own opinions and observations for those who might be curious.

1.) Adrian is confirmed canonically (as far as the Netflix series goes) Bisexual.

While the events that follow the scene absolutely make this scene abuse and manipulation, at the start, Adrian does consent to the sex initially (INITIALLY, I’m not forgetting what happens after). He willingly makes out with both Sumi and Taka, and he’s very obviously anally penetrated when Taka puts Adrian’s legs over his shoulders. It’s not subtle. This is probably the smallest thing to mention given what happens, but this did make me happy. Adrian is only the second character in my favorites list to be confirmed LGBTQIA+ (the other being Damien Bloodmarch from Dream Daddy: a Dad Dating Simulator). And I won’t lie, I cried for both instances.

This is a popular show, and Adrian is one of the main characters. This season had so many good examples of LGBT+ relationships-- including a very healthy partnership between two of the female villains which was openly discussed by them on screen. It’s treated as normal but not made the focus of the story, though it’s very obvious and not hidden. This was very impressive and respectful, showing a range of different orientations, and showing both healthy and unhealthy relationships.

I won’t address the games, because I haven’t finished playing them. I’ve heard some saying he’s always been bi, some saying it was never confirmed, and some saying he was confirmed straight. So I don’t know. I am of the opinion that a character’s sexuality does not affect the overall lore any more than their skin color or religion does. BUT, that is all I can say. I don’t know the games. And this scene certainly does include lore, as I will touch on in a bit...

2.) This scene was abuse, and the writing vilifies it as such.

As I said above, Adrian does seem to initially consent to the sex. He returns their kisses, he grips onto Sumi’s ass, and holds Taka’s shoulder as they make out. These are actions that imply he was enjoying this at the beginning. Although, it is possible he may have felt somewhat pressured to go further, as when they initially push him down, he does seem taken back, although that may have been mostly surprise.

However, as the scene goes on, it becomes clear that these two are attempting to make Adrian vulnerable. They continue with him until he is exhausted-- there are two of them and one of him. And given Adrian’s reactions, it’s very possible this may have been his first time. And I’m also not going to gloss over the fact that Adrian himself has said that he aged quickly. It is entirely possible that Adrian may still mentally be a child, in which case, this is also two young adults taking advantage of a younger teenager.

However, when this clearly becomes abuse and possibly rape is why they were having sex with him in the first place-- they wanted to make him vulnerable enough to kill him. They grew impatient with Adrian, wanting him to do things he could not do and teach them things he had not yet had the chance to. He gave them all he could, but their urge to return to Japan and free their people grew into a desire to kick out and replace the authority that abused them, to “make their own empire.” I also like that this makes this very real and tangible-- the abusers are not cartoonishly evil. They are real people with real motives who experienced abuse themselves. This hits a really sensitive topic many people aren’t willing to address-- that anyone is capable of abuse, villains aren’t alien, and people who may be otherwise trustworthy may commit grievous acts which can deeply hurt people.

What solidifies the idea in my mind is Adrian’s reaction after he kills them both and frees himself. We see him, having dragged himself to his childhood bedroom, laying on the floor in the spot where he killed his father, shaking and crying. He was violated. He was betrayed. The first time he’d been living a somewhat normal life in over a year, and the only two friends he had after Sypha and Trevor left stabbed him in the back. These humans, whom he killed his father to protect, took advantage of him and almost killed him, forcing him to kill them first.

I’m going to link to this post by @fandomwanderer​ and this post by @mega-ringsandthings-world​, because the sum up the idea better than I ever could. But this sets up Adrian’s character superbly. I will say, my wish for the next season is a bit different.

I hope that, eventually, Sypha and Trevor do come back, expecting Adrian to be waiting for them with open arms. And instead they find a very cold, very detached Adrian who is not acting like himself. I want tension between these three characters who used to be friends, until it builds up and eventually leads to a clash, possibly in the form of a physical fight. I want it to escalate until something happens and causes pause enough for Sypha and Trevor to talk Adrian down, at which point we finally see him start to crack, and eventually break down in his friends arms. I want them to ask about the scars, and prod and push until he snaps and attacks them, only to lead to him revealing everything that happened and clinging to them for comfort, while they wish they could’ve been the ones to kill the bastards. I truly do hope this happens. It’s been Three Seasons. Two of them have ended with Adrian sobbing. I want him to finally get some relief. But, even with this, I’m sure whatever the writers decide to do, it will be amazing. They’re in a very precarious place right now, but I’m excited to see where they go with it.

3.) Adrian’s reaction is perfectly justified.

This may just be an extension of point two, but Sumi and Taka’s abuse is not excused by the writing. All too often in fiction, rape and abuse are written off as not being that bad or even being desirable. What happens to Adrian is not painted as positive. It affects him extremely negatively, and it is not treated as his fault in any way. Even though he initially consented, these two betrayed his trust and hurt him. That is never treated as something he should be responsible for. Granted, with this being at the end of the series, there wasn’t much time for this to digest. I expect to see some characters see how he reacted by killing and spitting them, and initially assume that he did so because “he’s Dracula's son and of course.” But these characters will likely be doing so without context. The abuse also isn’t blamed on Adrian’s apparent orientation. Hector is abused in the same way by Lenore, in a heterosexual female-on-male abuse scene. And as stated above, there are healthy LGBT+ relationships in the show, as well.

Also, as the above linked post states, this also leads to us seeing Adrian slip slowly into the mindset his father once held-- perhaps not completely, but it is beginning. And all I’m left to think is, how much must this hurt? How much must Adrian hate seeing himself this way after everything he did for humans? But he’s so hurt by this betrayal that he can’t see things any other way right now. He is in pain, and he has had no real rest from that pain since his mother was killed.

“I gave you everything.” Adrian opened his home to Sumi and Taka, and he opened his heart to them, as well. He gave them his home, his weapons, his knowledge, his body. He is very young and very trusting, despite everything he’s been through. And that trust was taken and shoved right back in his face with insult and humiliation. He gave his all, not just for Sumi and Taka, but for humanity as a whole. He killed people, he killed his own kind, and he killed his own father-- his only remaining parent-- after his own mother was killed by the very people he was trying to protect. He gave everything, and humanity took it all and then shat on him in return. Adrian has every. right to feel betrayed. I don’t think he’ll be the new villain solely because I believe they will stick a bit closer to game lore, and may rather have him simply put himself to rest until the next major disaster hits humanity. But I do think this event caused his view of humanity to be less rose-tinted. He was forced to grow up fast, and much more painfully than he should’ve.

I truly hope, more than anything else, in future seasons Adrian does get some form of relief. Though, I doubt the world is done kinking him while he’s down. Hopefully, sooner rather than later, something truly good and unbastardized will come his way. Until then, I’ll be waiting with baited breath. I couldn’t be happier that this series is continuing.

P.S.: Please let me hug Adrian.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 21)

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: 12.5k story words: 167.5k (so far) chapter: 21/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: look we all owe @auroraphilealis a massive thank you because she stayed up until 1:30am her time editing with me because i’m a stubborn asshole of a nightowl who was determined to post tonight

Twenty minutes later, Phil stepped into the lobby of Dan’s building — or, at least, he hoped it was Dan’s building. There were apartment buildings to the right and left of Beans and Grind, and Dan hadn’t specified which. Phil had guessed purely based on the fact that he’d watched Dan turn left out of the shop more often than not.

The lobby was nice, fancy in a way that the miniscule entrance to Phil’s building wasn’t. It wasn’t ostentatious, though; it was sleek and modern and, really, looked exactly like the kind of building Dan would live in. In the center of the room, a man in a black suit was perched in a chair behind a tall desk.

“How can I help you?” he asked, setting his book down to address Phil.

“Um, I’m here to see Dan Howell?” Phil requested anxiously. The entire evening had wracked Phil’s nerves, and suddenly having to interact with a doorman was almost too much. “He said he’d tell the doorman to let me up?” Phil said, unsure of how this worked. He’d never been in an apartment building that was nice enough to have a doorman for security, much less one that could let guests in and out of residents’ flats.

The doorman pulled a book out from under the table and turned to a table entitled Howell. “ID?” he requested.

Phil fumbled in his wallet for his ID and nearly dropped it as he placed it on the desk. It seemed to take forever for the man to copy down his license number. Phil’s nerves were already shaken from the fight he’d just witnessed, from the anticipation of visiting Dan’s flat, from the excitement about what might happen there. He really didn’t need the added stress of not knowing how Dan’s fancy building worked.

The doorman slid the book across the desk, gesturing for to Phil to sign next to his name and license number. The page in book was labeled temporary guests, and contained list of names and signatures of other people that must have visited Dan’s flat over time. The neighboring page had a short list of permanent guests — it looked to only be Dan’s family (three different Howells, including Adaline), and Louise Pentland.

And a crossed out Isabella de la Renta.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Phil hoped that someday his name would get to fill in her spot on the list.

The doorman closed the book and handed Phil his ID back. “Right this way, sir,” he said, voice curt as he led Phil to the lift. Phil watched as the doorman inserted a key and pressed the seventh button, baffled that the doorman had to use a key just to let someone onto Dan’s floor.

Jesus, Phil knew that Dan was famous, but that seemed like an absurd amount of security.

However, when the doors opened, Phil realized that the security wasn’t to keep people out of Dan’s hallway, it was to keep people out of Dan’s flat. Rather than opening into a floor with several residences, like Phil had expected, the doors opened directly into Dan’s foyer.

Unsure of what the protocol was when you stepped off a lift and into someone’s apartment, Phil tentatively hollered, “Hello?”

From somewhere down the hallway, Dan yelled, “In the lounge!”

Phil shuffled forward, but hung awkwardly by the foyer door that led into the rest of Dan’s flat. ���Erm, I don’t know where your lounge is…”

There were a few loud, clumsy footsteps, followed by Dan’s head peeking around the corner. “Sorry, I’m a terrible host. Come this way.” Dan jerked his head to the right before spinning around and leading Phil through the door.

Obediently, Phil followed Dan into the next room, trying his best to take in his surroundings without loitering. The hallway had pictures hanging all the way down it, but Phil couldn’t tell what they were from here. There were doors, too, cracked open into rooms that Phil couldn’t quite see.

Not wanting Dan to think he was snooping, Phil hurried to catch up.

When Phil entered the lounge, Dan was already standing at a bar cart.

“I decided to be productive while I waited for you,” Dan said, gesturing to a pitcher of clear liquid. “Gin and tonic okay?” he asked, even though he was already pouring two drinks.

“Sounds great,” Phil agreed. He didn’t particularly care what they drank — in fact, he would almost prefer they abandoned the drinks all together, seeing as he was determined to have things happen with Dan when they were both sober.

And tonight, well… Phil had a feeling about tonight.

But Dan had had one hell of an evening, and Phil totally understood why he wanted a drink tonight. Hell, drinking together had been Phil’s idea, so it’s not like he could really protest.

“Let’s sit,” Dan suggested. He made his way over to the couch and sat the pitcher of alcohol down on the coffee table.

All day, they had been toeing a line, precariously teetering right on the edge of a cliff. And now that Phil was finally alone with Dan, now that they were in the privacy of Dan’s flat, Phil wasn’t sure how to push things along — or even if he should push things.

How much space was appropriate to leave between them?

Dan solved Phil’s problem, though, by sitting down right in the middle of the sofa, meaning that wherever Phil sat, he couldn’t possibly be very far from Dan.

That was just fine by him.

As Phil sat on the couch, he finally took in his surroundings.

Judging from the grand foyer, he’d expected the lounge to be lavish. However, this room was much more intimately decorated; the sofa was worn in and appeared to have a permanent crease on one end, and the bookshelves were stocked full of nerdy knickknacks and movies, all arranged in perfectly balanced clutter.

The room was mostly monochrome, with pops of color from the trinkets on the bookshelves and an abundance of plants. Unlike Phil’s television, Dan’s gaming consoles were arranged neatly, and he couldn’t see any of the wires or controllers. Everything hanging on the walls seamlessly tied into the rest of the decor.

“Your plants all look so much happier than mine, it’s not fair,” Phil whined. The was an oversized pot of cacti on the coffee table and they all looked like they were thriving — a sharp contrast to the pitiful, small cactus Phil had next to his kettle.

“Maybe that’s because I actually water mine,” Dan teased with a cheeky smile.

“Shut up,” Phil mumbled. He covered up his slight embarrassment by taking a sip of his drink.

In an attempt to shift the topic away from his inadvertently murderous tendencies towards houseplants, Phil nodded at his drink and said, “It’s great, thanks.”

His viewers gave him enough shit about killing plants; he didn’t need it from Dan, too.

As Phil took another sip, he looked closer at the bookshelves. By this point, Phil was well aware of the fact that Dan was a nerd, but it wasn’t until he actually got a good look at Dan’s bookshelf that Phil realized just how big of a nerd Dan was. There was an entire shelf dedicated to merchandise from Guild Wars, not to mention the plethora of anime figurines. The bottom row of shelves were all dedicated to movies, video games, and board games, several of which Phil owned himself, but some of which he’d never even heard of.

There would be time to dissect Dan’s possessions later, to look over every single item on the shelves and hear the stories behind all of the knickknacks. Right now, though, they needed to talk about everything that had happened with Isabella. Or not talk about that, and talk about them instead. Or not talk at all and fucking kiss already.

Or something. Anything but ruminating in this tense, expectant silence.

“So…” Phil started, but lost his nerve after only a word.

“So…” Dan responded, flashing Phil a soft smile. “Should we talk about what happened down there before we move on — like far, far away from that topic?”

Phil shrugged. He wanted to hear what Dan had to say — and desperately wanted Dan to put some of the things that Phil had heard into context — but he didn’t want to put any pressure on Dan. Phil only wanted Dan to talk if he wanted to talk, not because he thought he owed Phil anything.

“It’s up to you,” Phil said gently, offering Dan what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Dan pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, and flashed Phil a chagrined look — a look that softened all of Phil’s leftover anxiety from the fight.

Dan drew a deep breath, a bold determination in his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” Dan said, humble and genuine. “It wasn’t exactly my finest hour.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Phil assured him. “If I were in your place, I’m not sure I could have restrained myself any better.”

Phil cut himself off from saying anything else though — even though he was keen on the idea of going on a massive diatribe about how awful Isabella was now that he’d met her. But Phil wanted to give Dan the space to talk, to bring up whatever he wanted.

So Phil stopped talking, waiting in patient silence for Dan to continue.

Dan sighed, and shifted his attention to a loose thread in his ripped skinny jeans. His fingers tugged and pulled, and Phil was worried he was going to make the hole bigger.

“She brings out the worst in me,” Dan muttered, staring down at his lap. “I swear that’s not how I usually am.”

“I know,” Phil murmured sincerely.

Months of knowing Dan had proved that to Phil. Dan was kind and sweet and caring. The Dan that Phil had seen earlier that night, the Dan that screamed and fired shots at people, was nothing like the Dan that Phil knew. And Phil felt like he knew Dan very well by this point.

“Don’t feel like you have to talk about any of that just because she decided to share private stuff in front of me, though.” Phil reached out and stilled Dan’s hand, running his thumb over the back of Dan’s hand before pulling away.

“No, it’s fine,” Dan sighed. He brought a hand up and ruffled his hair, shifting so that he was fully facing Phil. Dan drew his legs up between them so they were criss-crossed, but it didn’t leave much room between him and Phil. As a result, Dan’s knees — and most of his shins — landed on top of Phil “We should probably talk about it. I mean, it’s kind of important I think.”

Phil opened his mouth – to say what, he wasn’t sure. But he wanted to say something to indicate to Dan that yes, downstairs is important to us. So, so much of it seemed relevant to them. Phil wanted to understand everything that was wrong with Isabella, wanted to know just how deeply Dan’s wounds ran. Phil wanted to make sure that he’d never hurt Dan in the same ways that she had.

And, secretly, Phil desperately wanted to know if there was any truth to Isabella’s claim that he had a part — no matter how big or small — in the end of Dan and Isabella’s relationship.

“I’m getting the sense I don’t know the whole story behind your breakup with Isabella,” Phil settled on after several seconds of silently gawking at Dan.

“Um, no,” Dan agreed sheepishly. “I guess I’ve brushed over a few of the details.”

“Why’s that?” Phil wanted to understand — to understand everything about Dan, everything about his past. Shifting a bit, Phil turned so that he was facing Dan, too, one leg sliding between them, still underneath Dan’s. This felt like a conversation they should be properly looking at each other for.

Dan took a long sip of his drink but he had a contemplative look on his face, and Phil knew he wasn’t avoiding the question. “Some of it I just wanted to let go, didn’t want to focus on it anymore.” The liquid in Dan’s mostly-full glass threatened to spill over as he spun it back and forth between his hands. “I was an idiot when it came to her, in a lot of ways. I guess I didn’t really want to admit the full extent of it.”

“How so?” Phil prompted, although he could imagine a few ways Dan had been idiotic when it came to Isabella.

Dan shook his head, and pursed his lips, his eyes flitting up to the ceiling for a second as he seemed to collect his thoughts.

“For the longest time, I told myself that it was fine that we were totally different people. That it was good that we had different ideas of a fun evening because it pushed me to do more.” Dan sighed deeply before continuing. “It took me a long time to see, but eventually I realized that she wasn’t really interested in me, just in Dan Howell and the fame and the perks and the money that came with it. The worst part is that everyone could see it before me.”

Phil frowned. After hearing some of the things that Isabella had said to Dan, Phil couldn’t say he was surprised that Isabella was interested in Dan for reasons that weren’t��� Dan, but he was a bit shocked that Dan hadn’t initially been aware of it.

“No one tried to warn you?”

A blush rose from Dan’s neck all the way to the tips of his ears and, oh, maybe people had.

“Not quite in those words,” Dan admitted. “But it was clear that no one liked her. Every time I saw Louise, she would complain about how awful Isabella was.” Dan shook his head and rolled his eyes — he at least looked a little amused at himself. “Hell, even my mum couldn’t stand her and she’s likes everyone.”

“Yikes,” Phil chuckled. “That’s never a good sign, is it?”

“Nope, not at all,” Dan conceded. He brought his glass up to his mouth, and fished an ice cube out with his tongue instead of taking a drink. The room was quiet for a moment as Dan thought, except for the soft crunch crunch crunch of Dan chewing.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t see it,” he finally continued. “I mean, she never wanted to just hang out. She was always pushing to go somewhere, somewhere we could be seen or get expensive dinners or jump the lines at clubs or whatever.” Dan’s hands waved wildly around him, his frustration evident. “It just… wasn’t me.”

The confession didn’t come as much of a surprise to Phil as he thought it should have — not with all of the clues he’d seen. Phil could still remember all of the pictures Isabella had posted online of her and Dan out doing things, the way Dan had made it clear over and over again that he was a massive introvert — two things that didn’t seem to fit together well.

And then there was the phone conversation that Phil had overheard the first time Dan had ever come to his flat, when Isabella demanded that Dan come out with her, and forced him to talk to the bouncer when he refused to leave Phil’s.

With each confession, Phil was able to piece together more and more of what Dan’s day to day relationship with Isabella must have been like, and it was looking worse by the second.

“I think I can count on my hands how many times she willingly came to my flat to just, like, relax,” Dan continued before Phil could say anything. “Fuck, you’ve already been here longer than she ever wanted to stay.”

Dan leaned forward and set his glass on the table — a glass that was still nearly half full, Phil noted.

Good.

As much as Phil knew he couldn’t police Dan’s behavior, Phil really, really wanted Dan to be sober tonight.

Phil took a deep breath and steeled himself to ask a question that he wasn’t sure he wanted — could stomach — the answer to. “Why did you stay with her, then?”

The blush that had previously calmed down on Dan’s face came back in full force. Dan’s sudden embarrassment put Phil on edge, already confirming what he’d suspected.

“I liked having the, um, you know, physical stuff.” Dan looked away and stared steadfastly somewhere behind Phil. “For a long time, I knew what we had wasn’t great, but I thought it was good enough.”

Phil scanned Dan’s face, trying to make sense of the masked emotions he saw. It was hard, though, because Dan still wasn’t looking at him.

He needed to see, he needed to know.

Phil set his drink on the table next to Dan’s and tentatively reached out to cup Dan’s cheek, guiding his head so that he looked more directly at Phil. Dan’s eyes flicked to meet Phil’s gaze, and his lips quirked up into the ghost of a smile. Phil couldn’t resist stroking his thumb over Dan’s cheek, dipping down to where he knew his deep dimple would form if Dan smiled just a bit wider.

Not wanting to push Dan’s limits too far right now — and not wanting to distract too much from the conversation they were having — Phil slowly, reluctantly, pulled his hand away from Dan.

“What changed?” Phil whispered.

Dan reached out and caught Phil’s hand in midair. Flipping his palm over, Dan intertwined their fingers, letting their hands fall to the sofa between them. Dan’s head followed the movement, his gaze fixating on where they were touching.

“I realized what it could be like.” Dan peered up at Phil through thick eyelashes. “That if just being around someone, without all of the physical stuff, was so fucking good, then —” Dan swallowed thickly, his eyes shifting away and back down again, “— then things with Isabella definitely weren’t good enough.”

“Oh,” Phil muttered, practically speechless at the implications of what Dan was saying. Or at least, what he thought Dan was implying — he wasn’t exactly speaking in the most concrete terms at the moment. Phil was pretty sure Dan was talking about him, but if Dan wasn’t… well, Phil didn’t want to make an idiot of himself because of a pretty sure assumption.

“So, did, um, someone in particular make you realize that, or…?” Phil trailed off, losing his courage to complete his already weak and ambiguous question.

To Phil’s surprise, Dan threw his head back in the loud, boisterous laughter that Phil had come to know and love, and sent Phil an incredulous look.

“Stupidity isn’t a good look on you, Phil,” Dan said, his voice dripping with fondness, a smile so wide that his dimples were canyons. There was no bite to the words, nothing but pure affection radiating from Dan.

Realizing how fucking obvious it was, how ridiculous of a question he’d really asked, Phil broke down into laughter as well. On instinct, his free hand flew up to shield his mouth — and the tongue he knew tended to poke out when he laughed too freely.

Dan’s other hand was right behind Phil’s though, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling it down, down, down, away from his mouth and all the way to the sofa. “Stop that,” Dan murmured softly, manhandling Phil ever so slightly so that both pairs of their hands were intertwined. “I like looking at your mouth.” Dan’s eyes flickered up from where he was looking at Phil’s lips, where Phil’s tongue was undoubtedly peeking out, up to his eyes. “And the rest of you.”

The smile on Phil’s face grew, and he lost all concern for how silly, how lovestruck, he must look. But he didn’t care if Dan realized how happy he was — fuck, he wanted Dan to know.

He wanted Dan to know that he made Phil the happiest he’d ever been.

“Cheesy isn’t a good look on you, Dan,” Phil quipped back, teasing.

Truthfully, cheesy was a great look on Dan — a look Phil wanted to see forever, if possible — but he wasn’t about to tell Dan that right now.

Dan rolled his eyes and softly tugged on Phil’s hands to pull him closer, the space between them growing smaller and smaller with every centimeter that Phil fell.

“Shut up,” Dan mumbled as he swooped in and finally closed the last bit of distance between them by capturing Phil’s lips with his own.

Phil melted, sinking into the sensation and letting himself get lost in the feeling of Dan’s lips on his. Phil leaned closer and pressed more firmly against Dan’s lips, their mouths moving in a slow rhythm. He was vaguely aware of the way that his stomach was flipping over, the way his heart was swooping, the way his breath was catching, but Phil was so fucking concentrated on the way that Dan’s lips felt against his that he could barely pay attention to anything else.

The only thought that Phil could register was finally.

With what was probably more fierceness than necessary, Phil ripped his hands from Dan’s, and reached up to cup his cheeks and hold him firmly in place, to pull his face impossibly closer.

A quiet groan tumbled out of Dan’s lips, almost completely muffled by Phil’s mouth.

Fuck, that was hot. The noise caused Dan’s lips to part slightly and Phil took advantage of the opportunity, slipping his tongue between Dan’s lips; Phil slowly worked Dan’s mouth open, exploring every bit of it.

Dan was fast to respond, clearly just as eager as Phil, and tangled his tongue with Phil’s, not necessarily fighting for dominance, but not quite yielding submission either. They gave and they took, taking turns caressing and exploring each other.

Warm hands pressed to Phil’s waist, almost immediately slipping just underneath his jumper. Ever since that day in the coffee shop when Phil had gotten to feel Dan’s hands on his bare skin — back when Dan had innocently helped untangle Phil from his sweater — Phil had obsessed over what it would feel like to be touched by Dan in the heat of the moment. What it would be like for Dan to run his hands over him, to kiss him, to caress him.

Right now, though, Dan’s hands weren’t exploring Phil’s body — they weren’t roaming up and down his chest or looping around his back and dipping below the hem of his jeans. But that was fine, because they were gripping Phil’s hips tightly, Dan’s fingernails digging so fiercely into Phil’s skin that they would certainly leave marks.

Marks that Phil would happily bare later. Marks that Phil would probably stare at and fantasize about when Dan wasn’t with him anymore.

Phil didn’t want to think about later, though. He wanted to focus on now. He wanted to focus on the way Dan’s lips were moving against his, and the way that Dan’s breath danced across Phil’s cheeks.

Above all, Phil wanted to focus on Dan.

Both of their breath was turning ragged, though. Kissing Dan couldn’t last forever. Phil could feel Dan gasping for air, and Phil knew he was losing the battle with his lungs.

He pulled back, but he didn’t go far.No sooner had Phil separated their lips than Dan’s forehead crashed into his, Dan’s breath coming in fast, hot pants across Phil’s cheeks.

Phil’s eyes flew open from the impact, and he was met with the serene sight of a blissed-out looking Dan. His eyes were still closed, his lips parted and twitching up at the corners. On Phil’s hips, Dan’s fingers relaxed, just slightly, his hands slipping down to rest in the crevice of Phil’s lap.

Dan’s breath slowed, finally returning to something that resembled a normal pace, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Holy shit,” Dan muttered.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed stupidly, his voice coming out breathless and weak. His hands fell from Dan’s cheeks, coming to rest on his shoulders.

“That was…” Dan trailed off, opting to close his eyes and tip his chin forward again instead of finishing his sentence. He pressed another tender kiss to Phil’s mouth and their lips melded together for a soft moment.

When Dan pulled back again, he only left a hair of distance between their lips. Phil could feel every one of Dan’s breaths, and he savored it, his eyes closed as he took in the tender moment. It took a moment before their eyes drifted open, almost at the same time, and met intensely.

“Yeah,” Phil repeatedly dumbly, his lips brushing against Dan’s when he spoke because they were still so close.

Dan’s hands slid up again, dipping back under Phil’s sweater and lightly brushing back and forth against the skin of Phil’s hips. The sudden sensation was a shock to Phil, and he squirmed, unable to help his reaction to Dan’s ticklish touch. A high pitched giggle escaped his lips without his permission, breaking the charged moment.

Dan’s hands stilled for a moment, his eyes flying open even wider in surprise at Phil’s reaction.

“Oh dear,” he giggled. His fingers tightened against Phil’s sides, and then dug in harder, beginning to tickle Phil with more intention.

Phil squeaked, squirming uncontrollably in an attempt to get away from the touch, while laughter bubbled up from his lips.

“Oh dear,” Dan repeated, a grin spreading wider and wider on his face, his dimples growing deeper. Phil could hear the childish, taunting delight that was laced in his voice, and almost, almost, forgave Dan for tickling him. “Someone’s ticklish, huh?” he teased, laughter interrupting his words and completely dissolving the sharp tension that had built between them just a moment before.

But it felt good. Despite the fact that Phil couldn’t stop laughing, and his sides were beginning to hurt from the overwhelming tickling, the moment felt good. In all of the people that Phil had dated, he’d never been with anyone that he could so easily bounce from exhilarating and hot, to silly and playful, and he absolutely adored it.

“Shut up!” Phil gasped around his laughter. “You already knew that! You figured this out when you were drunk! You don’t need to keep proving it,” Phil pleaded, reaching down to battle Dan’s hands.

Without warning, Dan’s fingers suddenly moved, right out from under Phil’s searching hands, until they were wiggling their way further into Phil, making him shriek with laughter.

“Stop, stop,” Phil cried through broken breaths. His face was flushed, and he couldn’t seem to open his eyes, he was laughing so hard. Thankfully, Dan’s movements finally came to a halt, and Phil’s body collapsed in relief.

“Oh my god,” Phil moaned, panting for breath. His hands fell to his sides as he worked to get himself back under control.

In front of him, Dan giggled, but didn’t say anything. Phil pouted, expecting an apology, but it never came — because in the next moment, Dan’s hands found Phil’s sides again, and returned to their assault. He grazed his fingers up and down, brushing Phil’s ribs and just shy of his armpits, digging his fingers in deep to get Phil going again.

“Fuck — Dan —” Phil gasped, struggling under Dan’s touch. Dan’s hands just kept going, and Phil could feel his abs beginning to hurt from the onslaught of laughter. Dan’s hands moved to Phil’s stomach, taking advantage of the moment, and Phil had finally had enough. Desperate to stop the onslaught of tickling on his sensitive stomach, Phil managed to place his hands on top of Dan’s, and force them to still against his skin.

He gulped in air as Dan laughed at him, his eyes crinkled up in amusement, and his dimple huge in his cheek.

“You’re the worst, Howell,” Phil complained, but despite being disgruntled about Dan laughing at him, Phil found himself grinning as well. He couldn’t help himself - not when Dan looked so happy being able to tease Phil.

“You’re cute, Philly,” Dan said quietly with a soft smile as Phil started to get his breath back. His eyes flitted over Phil’s face, and his fingers flexed back and forth against Phil’s body until Phil’s grip loosened and he let go.

Using his newfound leverage, Dan wrapped his hands more firmly around Phil, sliding around to his lower back and pulling him forwards, forcing them even closer on the sofa. “I like you a lot,” he murmured, the intensity from a few moments ago rushing back.

“Do you?” Phil asked with a smirk, no longer doubting Dan’s feelings for him.

“Yeah,” Dan said, his voice lower and huskier than it was seconds earlier. “I do,” he confirmed, leaning in and kissing Phil once more, lingering against his lips longer than necessary. “What are you going to do about it, Lester?” Dan teased, right up against Phil’s mouth.

Phil didn’t even have to think about it. After all of the flirting, the talking, the waiting, Phil didn’t have it in him to hold back for another second. Not if Dan was willing to go for it.

“This,” Phil whispered against Dan’s lips before closing the miniscule distance between them, and kissing Dan more passionately, more heatedly, than anything they’d shared yet.

Dan kissed back, matching passion with passion, heat with heat. It was slow at first, but it built and built, until suddenly their hands suddenly unable to stay still. Dan’s hands slid up from their spot on Phil’s lower back, tracing along his spine and pushing his jumper up as they made their way higher and higher. Cold air rushed over Phil’s skin, and Phil felt a violent shiver course down his spine — but he wasn’t sure if it was from sudden exposure to the air, or from Dan’s touch.

If Phil had to guess, though, he would reckon it was because of Dan.

Desperate to get more of Dan, too, Phil reached behind Dan’s head, cupping the back of his neck in one hand, pulling him impossibly closer, and tangling his other into Dan’s curly locks.

After all of the marathon nights of Buffy where Dan had encouraged Phil to play with his hair, Phil should have been prepared for Dan’s reaction, been prepared for the high pitched whimper Dan let out when Phil knotted his fingers in Dan’s curls.

But he wasn’t. Nothing could have prepared Phil for the satisfaction he felt from pulling those noises from Dan, from turning Dan on, from the way Dan quietly gasped Phil’s name. It all went straight to Phil’s groin.

The little amount of control that Phil had had over his impulses disappeared, and suddenly he felt himself pushing and pulling at Dan all at once. With a fervor that Phil hadn’t felt in years — had arguably never felt — he pulled at Dan’s shoulders, yanking him closer until their entire upper bodies were flush and Phil could feel Dan’s heart pounding in his chest. Almost simultaneously, though, Phil pushed, tipping Dan backwards, guiding him down, down, down, until his back crashed into the sofa and he gave a soft oomph.

Dan went without protest; his only response was to tighten his grip on Phil’s hips and pull him down, too — it wasn’t necessary, though, because Phil had every intention of chasing Dan into the cushions anyway.

Together, they tumbled into the sofa, Phil falling on top of Dan, his arms caging Dan’s head as Phil braced himself on his forearms. His hands returned to Dan’s hair, tugging just a bit. With what seemed like no thought at all, Dan’s legs spread apart, giving Phil room to settle between them. Suddenly, their hips were pressing together.

“Fuck,” Dan gasped. He tore his lips from Phil’s, and tipped his head far back, giving Phil a perfect, up close view of his long, beautiful neck.

Phil wanted to trace every bit of it with his tongue, to explore every piece of Dan’s body.

Unable to help himself, his body on tingling with desire, Phil leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dan’s exposed throat, kissing lightly from the base of his chin all the way to the jut of his collarbone. It wasn’t until Dan let out a long, mangled moan that Phil latched on properly, seeking out a pulse point on Dan’s neck and sucking.

Dan might have moaned before, but the noise he let out when Phil drew the skin of his throat into his mouth was downright pornographic. Beneath him, Phil felt Dan’s hips cant up, pressing into Phil’s forcefully. This time, they both moaned as their rapidly hardening cocks rubbed together through their clothes.

It felt good — more than good. The warmth of Dan’s body, the firmness of his cock, the vibrations of his moaning, they all felt positively delicious beneath Phil. And for a moment, Phil lost himself in the intoxicating pleasure of Dan.

The tight pressure on Phil’s hips dissipated as Dan loosened his grip and his hands slipped backwards, wrapping around Phil and drifting lower and lower until the tips of his fingers were dipping to Phil’s waistband, grazing the top of his arse, pulling his hips down more forcefully.

“Shit, fuck,” Phil gasped as their cocks collided again, the friction of their jeans and the grinding movement causing a burst of arousal to shoot through his entire body.

It felt great — sinfully great. Something that Phil wasn’t sure he could truly have yet, though. He needed to stop this before it got out of hand. He needed to give them both a chance to hold back, at least for a little bit longer. They deserved that — they deserved more than fast and sloppy on Dan’s sofa.

Phil tore his lips away from their place on Dan’s neck, and forced himself to pull his hips away from Dan’s.

The new position didn’t seem to suit Dan, though. His hips followed Phil’s up, seemingly chasing the heady feeling of grinding together.

“Wait, Dan,” Phil panted. “Fuck.” His hands flew from Dan’s shoulders to his hips, forcefully pressing them down into the sofa, restraining Dan’s movements and giving him no choice but to stay still.

Phil’s insistence must have registered with Dan, because he stopped fighting and his eyes shot open to look at Phil. “What?” Dan asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Phil rushed to assure him, his breath still coming out in sharp exhales. “I just — fuck,” Phil’s resolve waivered, and he let his head collapse forward onto Dan. He pressed a long, lingering kiss to Dan’s chest, right above his pounding heart. God, Phil really didn’t want to stop — not even for a second. But what he had with Dan was too precious, too new to risk. “I don’t want to go too fast.”

“Oh,” Dan murmured. He sounded shocked, almost disbelieving — something that made Phil’s heart hurt for Dan in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Phil pressed himself further upwards so that he could properly look at Dan. When Phil leaned back, he saw that Dan’s eyes were blown wide in lust, and his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

Phil’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. Dan was right there, so unbelievably close, and not kissing him was taking an immense amount of restraint. But Phil was determined to do it.

“You’re too important.” Phil whispered, his voice raw with emotion that he hadn’t had the chance to express to Dan yet.

Dan’s eyes widened.

“You think so?” he asked, sounding vulnerable and timid.

Not missing a beat, Phil dipped down and kissed Dan again, moving their lips languidly together. He kissed him thoroughly, trying to convey just how important Dan was to him through their kiss alone. He moved slowly, gently prying Dan’s mouth open and caressing Dan’s tongue with his own. Phil kissed him until they were both running out of breath again — something that didn’t take long since they were both already so close to being short of breath.

“I know so,” Phil promised when he pulled back.

Dan’s hands shot from their place in Phil’s waistband to cover his face, but Phil caught sight of Dan’s red cheeks and bashful smile before his face disappeared.

“Phiwww,” Dan whined, his voice coming out muffled through his hands. The tips of his ears were tinting red, too, and Phil wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity flattering Dan enough that he got this adorably flustered.

It was tempting to lean back down his elbows, to pry Dan’s hands away from his face, to surge forward and continue kissing Dan. But Phil was determined to start this relationship right, and that meant finishing the conversation they’d started earlier — and clarifying exactly what Dan wanted now that they had finally given into each other.

So instead, Phil pushed himself onto his hands, then his knees, and then dragged himself all the way into a sitting position. He glanced down and saw that his cock was still straining against his jeans — that would just have to calm down, because now wasn’t the moment.

“Come on, sit up,” Phil urged gently. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Dan’s wrists, pulling them back softly.

Dan gazed up at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks, a frown forming on his lips, his bottom one sticking out in a way that made Phil desperate to lean down and suck it into his mouth. It took every bit of Phil’s willpower to not give in.

“I don’t wanna,” Dan whined petulantly, pointedly staying horizontal.

If that boy wasn’t so fucking cute, Phil would probably murder him.

“Too bad,” Phil teased, using the leverage he had on Dan’s wrists to pull him into a seated position. They were close, closer than they had been when they initially sat down on the sofa — closer than when they’d first kissed, even.

Phil could feel Dan’s breath on his cheeks, and his eyes flickered down to Dan’s lips again. They were swollen from kissing, redder than they normally were. And fuck, he just looked downright kissable.

Forcing himself to behave, Phil pushed backwards and put just a few more centimeters of space between them.

“What do you want from me?” Dan pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Finish talking,” Phil murmured, giving into some of his desire to touch Dan by letting himself reach up and run his fingers through Dan’s hair. Dan’s eyes fluttered closed, and his pout twisted into a soft smile, his arms falling back to his sides

“Please,” Phil urged, when it seemed Dan wasn’t going to do as he’d requested.

Dan’s eyes opened, but he sighed, his face scrunching up in confusion. “About what?”

“The fight, Isabella.” Phil shrugged helplessly, not knowing exactly what to demand from Dan. “All of it.”

“I don’t know how much more there is to say.” Dan shrugged, his hand seeking out Phil’s and intertwining their fingers. “You’re amazing, Isabella sucks. The end.”

Phil frowned slightly at the way Dan had seemingly closed off since their earlier conversation. He didn’t like it. He knew it might not be fair, but he wanted a full explanation from Dan. He wanted Dan to tell him everything.

“What?” Dan asked, a note of defensiveness creeping into his voice when all Phil did was stare.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Phil implored, even though he very much wanted Dan to talk. “But you said it was important earlier and, well, I agree. I want to know what happened — all of it.”

“Why?” Dan asked, and it was clear that he really didn’t understand Phil’s motivation in getting Dan to talk. Phil sighed, and squeezed Dan’s hand.

“I want to be different,” he whispered, looking down at their hands, feeling vulnerable.

“You already are, Phil.” Dan squeezed tightly in return. Slowly, Phil looked up, taking in the sincerity on Dan’s face, and swallowed.

“Good.” Phil leaned forward and pressed a slow, tender kiss to Dan’s lips, trying to show Dan what he was feeling. Slowly, he pulled away, and sat all the way back up, after just a few seconds. Talking was important, and Phil didn’t want Dan — or himself — to get too caught up in kissing again. He still wanted more of an explanation.

Phil cleared his throat and tried to shift them back to their conversation. “You were planning to break up with Isabella before she cheated on you.” It wasn’t a question — Phil knew that much for certain.

“Right,” Dan confirmed. “I was going to do it the next morning.”

“Was it just because she was using you?” It wasn’t until the words were out of Phil’s mouth that he realized how minimizing it must have sounded. “Not that that wasn’t a good enough reason to break up with her!” Phil rushed to add. “I just — was that it?”

Staring downward, Dan silently shook his head.

Phil bit is lip. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to tell me?”

“The full truth feels too heavy,” Dan confessed, still addressing their laps.

Needing to see Dan’s face, his eyes, Phil cupped his chin and forced Dan to look up, but he refused to meet Phil’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

Dan sighed, but he relented, giving into Phil’s insistent pushing. “It felt easier to simplify everything down to the fact that Isabella cheated on me.” Dan gave a small shrug of his shoulders, biting his lip between his teeth.

“As opposed to what?” Phil pushed.

“It was easier than saying that she was a manipulative bitch who only dated me for money and fame.” Dan’s gaze flicked away, settling on the potted cacti on the table. “And that, in the end, there was some truth to all of her accusations.”

“What do you mean?” Phil’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Isabella had accused Dan of a lot — not really liking girls, cheating, breaking up with her because of Phil… But Phil couldn’t tell if any of it was true.

“All that biphobic bullshit she was spouting — she’s been going on about that bullshit since I came out her.”

“Wow,” Phil breathed, unintentionally interrupting Dan. “That must have been really difficult, being with someone who didn’t respect your sexuality,” Phil elaborated when Dan’s stared at him blankly, eyebrows raised.

“It’s whatever, and like, not true. I mean, obviously I wasn’t doomed to leave her for a man just because I like dick, too.” Dan forced an awkward laugh. “But she wasn’t entirely wrong about you.”

“About me?” Phil asked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected this to really come back to him.

“Yeah,” Dan said sheepishly. “About you being, like, part of the reason I broke up with her. And would never consider getting back together.”

“But we never…” Phil cocked his head and shrugged his shoulder, hoping Dan would get what Phil meant — that they never did anything.

“I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that the feelings were there. So like I said, in a way, she was right. I wasn’t any better to her than she was to me,” Dan said dejectedly.

The idea that Isabella had somehow convinced Dan that he was in the wrong churned in Phil’s stomach, making him feel uneasy.

“Are you kidding me? No. Absolutely not,” Phil fought back fiercely.

Dan looked up in shock at Phil’s raised voice.

“You’re so much better than her,” Phil insisted. “Sure, there were some feelings. That’s kinda shitty. But you didn’t act on them — fuck, you didn’t act on them for an entire month after you’d broken up! If that doesn’t make you a better person, Dan, I don’t know what does.” Phil’s voice was just shy of shouting by the time he was finished.

“I wanted to act on them, though,” Dan argued, defeated.

“Trust me, I did too.” Phil shook his head despondently. “But we didn’t. And that’s what counts.”

“I guess.” Dan grabbed his drink from the table, draining the remaining half of it. He looked exasperated and annoyed, a flicker of the heat from his fight with Isabella back in his eyes. “Jesus, I’m just so fucking — ugh.”

“What?” Phil couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at Dan’s sudden change in demeanor. Following Dan’s lead, Phil picked up his drink and finished it.

“She just sucked so fucking much,” Dan ranted.

Reaching up, Phil carded his fingers through Dan’s hair again, and sighed softly. “Complain as much as you want, I’ll listen,” Phil offered sincerely, although a bit of humor still seeped into his voice.

“She was just so fucking self-obsessed,” Dan groaned, the feeling of Phil’s hand in his hair not even enough to calm him down, and Phil let it fall away.

Before saying anything more, Dan refilled both of their drinks, and handed one to Phil. “All she ever did was talk about herself and push for doing things that would help her public image,” Dan groused. “She’s literally the most selfish person in the world. And you know the dumbest part?” Dan chuckled humorously. “She always tried to pretend it was to help my public image too, but she never seemed to care that I didn’t care about that. That wasn’t me.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed, trying to hold back his own anger at the woman. Dan didn’t need Phil chiming in about her being a bitch. But… well, Phil could at least say something. “Sounds like she was too busy loving herself to really love you.”

Dan froze, his glass halfway to his mouth. Phil watched as he stared, wide eyed, and could do nothing more than stare blankly back.

“What did you say?” Dan demanded.

“Er,” Phil stuttered, trying to remember exactly what he'd said because it seemed to important to Dan, for some unfathomable reason. “Something about her loving herself too much?”

“Fucking brilliant,” Dan muttered, more to himself than Phil. “Love yourself.”

Without saying anything else, Dan lunged forward and sweeped a small notebook from the shelf under the coffee table. It was a notebook that Phil recognized; he’d seen Dan scribble in it countless times — but never in direct response to something Phil had said.

Dan usually was pretty private with his notebook of lyrics, normally shielding the page from Phil’s view when he added to it. Tonight, though, the notebook was on full display; it was opened to the very first page, which only had two words on it.

album title????????????????

Beneath the series of question marks, Dan messily scratched two more words.

love yourself.

As if Phil wasn’t closely watching Dan’s movements, Dan flipped the notebook around so Phil could see it properly. Phil took in the words on the page for a second, before shifting his gaze up to Dan’s face. He was biting his lip so hard that it was turning white, and his brows were furrowed.

“Can I use that?” Dan sounded nervous.

Phil’s jaw actually dropped. “As an album title?”

“Yeah,” Dan answered meekly. “And maybe a song lyric, too.”

“O-of c-course,” Phil stuttered. He was having trouble processing the fact that Dan was inspired by anything Phil said, much less that Dan wanted to use it so prominently. “Why that, though?”

Dan’s gaze flickered down to the notebook. “Do you really want to hear me go on a full music rant right now?” Dan asked warily, looking back at Phil skeptically.

“Always,” Phil promised, smiling sweetly at Dan. He meant it — anytime that Dan shared his thoughts, his music, with Phil, Phil felt himself fall a little further.

Dan thumbed through the notebook, not stopping at any particular spot but skimming the pages. “It just seems appropriate. Like, on the one hand, I already can see writing a song with that as the chorus, and screaming that Isabella should go love herself is so much better than the two words I’ve been using recently. But also, I feel like it just… I dunno, captures the meaning of the album?”

Dan held up a finger, wordlessly telling Phil to wait, and took another drink from his glass before continuing. “This whole album, at its core, is really about being a little selfish, and doing what’s right for me, and love yourself really sums that up.”

For almost a full minute, Phil was struck silent. There was a certain kind of wisdom in what Dan had said that Phil hadn’t really thought about before. It seemed so obvious, and yet, was something that most of the world — Phil included — so often overlooked. The fact that Dan had grabbed that sentiment, and made an entire album around it? That was really something.

“I think you’re amazing, Dan,” he managed to mutter eventually. “And I think you should be as selfish as you want.”

“That’s good to hear.” Dan said, his smile twisting into a smirk, eyes twinkling. Phil’s brows furrowed, unsure what that expression could mean.

“Why’s that?” Phil asked, his head cocking to the side.

“Because if I’m really being selfish,” Dan said cheekily, “I just want you.”

All of Phil’s resolve to continue talking about Isabella, about everything that had gone wrong, about how Dan was feeling, drained away in an instant.

Words completely failed Phil.

He didn’t know how to properly communicate just how much everything Dan had said meant to him — the fact that Dan had sort of left Isabella for him, the fact that Dan was writing an album for him, the fact that Dan being selfish meant being with Phil.

So instead, Phil surged forward, insistently pressing his lips to Dan’s. He couldn’t help himself, kissing Dan deeply, his hands coming up to fist in Dan’s shirt.

“I just want you, too,” Phil murmured against his lips, barely pulling away to speak.

“We’re a good pair, then,” Dan mumbled back, slamming their mouths back together and effectively putting an end to any more talking.

There was nothing more that they needed to say with words, anyway. After so long of being so close, they just needed each other. They needed to feel and kiss and touch.

They’d talked for months. And they would have months and months to talk later.

But now, tonight wasn’t about talking. Not anymore. Tonight was about giving in, about finally letting themselves be everything that they’d wanted for so long.

Completely disregarding his earlier decision to not push too far, too fast, Phil let his hands fly from Dan’s shirt to his shoulders, because if Dan was going to be selfish, then Phil thought he might as well be too. The distance between them suddenly seemed unbearable, and Phil pushed Dan back, back, back, until he was laying down on the sofa again, his head landing with a soft thump near the armrest.

Dan didn’t miss a beat.

Mid-tumble, Dan’s hands found Phil’s waist again, wasting no time in slipping under his sweater and thumbing across the soft cushion of his sides.

“Fuck,” Dan muttered when their lips parted ever-so-slightly from the impact of their fall. His head tipped back, once again exposing his long neck, and Phil realized that this must be another hotspot for Dan.

Phil’s suspicions were confirmed when he shifted down, licking his way down Dan’s throat and fixating on the soft, fleshy spot where his neck met his shoulder. Phil sucked harshly, his teeth grazing Dan’s skin, and was rewarded with a deep, loud moan.

He wanted to find every single spot that elicited noises like that from Dan.

“Someone’s sensitive there, hmm?” Phil teased, echoing Dan’s words from when he’d tickled Phil earlier.

“Fuck—” Dan gasped in a shattered breath, “—off.”

The deep moan that accompanied Dan’s exhale made Phil think that Dan wanted anything but Phil to retreat.

Wanting more of Dan’s moans, Phil bit down, just hard enough to shock Dan’s senses, before licking and sucking at the sensitive skin again.

“Jesus on a fucking tricycle,” Dan muttered, his breath coming out in broken whimpers. “How do you fucking know already?”

Phil giggled into Dan’s neck, so unbelievably happy that he’d found someone that he could relax with, have fun with, even when they were in the middle of something so hot.

“Come back here,” Dan demanded, his words slurred and voice hushed. One of his hands slipped out from Phil’s sweater and landed in his hair, tugging roughly to redirect Phil’s lips to his own. “Kiss me, you spoon,” Dan muttered before he pulled Phil’s head down and crashed their lips together.

And so Phil kissed him. He opened himself up to Dan, brushed his tongue alongside his, and soaked in what he’d been missing for so long. Finally getting to kiss Dan was like heaven, and Phil couldn’t get enough.

Dan’s lips were plump and warm and just barely chapped; they moved in perfect synchrony with Phil’s, his tongue darting out and dancing at just the right moments.

Sometime while they were sinking into each other, kissing and just being, Dan’s hands made their way up to Phil’s back, pushing his sweater up along the way.

“Can I?” Dan asked breathily as he tugged the hem of Phil’s sweater further upwards.

It took a moment for Dan’s words to register, but when they did, Phil pulled his mouth away from Dan’s to breathe, “Wait, hang on.”

It took more effort than Phil wanted to admit, but he managed to at least get his mouth off of Dan’s, though he didn’t get very far. His lips found Dan’s throat as he said, “I want to take this at your pace.”

“Take — what — at my — pace?” Dan asked, his words coming out in short staccatos, matching the beat of Phil’s mouth against his skin.

“You,” Phil kissed Dan’s throat, unable to help himself. “Me,” kiss. “Us,” kiss.

For a moment, there was no response. And then Dan pushed his head into the sofa, forcing Phil’s mouth away from his skin, and stared up at Phil. Their gazes finally met again for the first time in what felt like ages.

“Phil, I’m in,” Dan said, his lips quirking up into a small smile. “I’m all in.”

Phil’s eyes went wide. For all of a second, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, wasn’t sure if Dan meant what he meant, but as he stared at Dan, stared at the way Dan’s body seemed to be giving in to him, Phil realized that he did.

“Fuck,” Phil cursed. “Me too, Dan,” he gasped, crashing their lips back together. He pushed into Dan’s mouth, kissing him fervently, suddenly desperate for more more more. But before Phil could really get into the kiss, Dan pushed him away again.

“Sweater,” he huffed as he tugged at the hem. “I want it gone. Please.”

Not missing a beat, Phil pushed off his elbows and extended his arms, balancing on his hands so that Dan had the freedom to push the sweater up and over his torso. The thick knitted material temporarily blinded Phil as it covered his head, but then Dan pulled some more, and Phil could see again. Phil lifted up one hand after another, letting the sweater fall from his arms, and watched as Dan shoved it off the sofa.

Beneath him, Dan was staring up, pupils dilated and lips swollen. “Come here,” Dan ordered, his fingers tangling in the fine hairs at the back of Phil’s neck and yanking him down. Phil’s eyes clamped shut, his lips slamming into Dan’s. He let himself kiss, just for a moment, before he remembered that he had a bigger priority at the moment.

“No,” Phil grumbled against Dan’s lips. With the little leverage he had, Phil tried to push himself back up.

When Phil opened his eyes and looked down, he saw Dan staring up with startled, wide doe eyes. A small smirk on his face, Phil shook his head and shifted his weight some so that his hands could slip down to Dan’s hips.

“Fair is fair,” Phil huffed, tugging on Dan’s jumper and trying to pull it up and away from his body.

Dan relented; his hands fell from Phil’s neck and pressed into the sofa beside his hips. His back arched up, letting Phil slide the soft knit jumper up his body. Seamlessly, Dan let his back fall and raised his shoulders when the jumper was high enough, letting Phil pull it free from his body entirely.

Spread beneath him, Dan looked radiant. His chest was soft and smooth, and just slightly tanned. Phil’s eyes were drawn down to Dan’s nipples, prominent nubs against the flat expanse of his chest. Every fiber of Phil wanted to touch, wanted to stroke up and down Dan’s chest, wanted to thumb over his nipples and feel the jut of his collarbone.

So Phil let himself.

He pushed himself upwards, balancing his weight on his knees and simultaneously forcing their hips together harder. His hands slunk up, landing on Dan’s chest and catching himself. Staring down in wonderment, Phil let his hands roam up and down, caressing every part of Dan’s bare skin that he could.

“You’re gorgeous,” Phil breathed.

Dan flushed bright red, only this time, Phil could see the way the blush spread all the way down his chest and reached the bottom of his ribcage.

“You’re prettier,” Dan argued, his hands rising up to Phil’s stomach, searching over Phil’s skin like he was trying to memorize the landscape of Phil’s torso. Dan’s touch was white hot, sending electric thrills up and down Phil’s spine that had him desperate to grind his hips down into Dan.

They’d come this far, they’d been so patient for so long, that Phil couldn’t resist just some inkling of the pleasure that he craved. He let his hips fall, let their crotches rub together, let their clothed cocks touch.

“Agree to disagree,” Phil panted in Dan’s ear.

A deep groan tumbled from Dan’s lips and Phil suddenly flashed back to that day in Beans and Grind when he’d called Dan a good boy, and the way that Dan had reacted.

Praise.

Dan clearly liked praise.

And Phil was more than happy to give it to him.

“You’re amazing, Dan,” Phil murmured, latching onto the tender skin beneath Dan’s ear and sucking, drawing the pliant skin into his mouth and nibbling at the soft flesh. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you.”

“Shit,” Dan gasped, hips arching into Phil’s at the praise.

Phil pulled back from his neck and took in the serene, euphoric look on Dan’s face. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back, spine arched enough to force his shoulders off the sofa. His soft, pink lips were parted, quivering, his tongue pushing against his front teeth.

Fuck going slowly. Fuck propriety. Fuck chivalry.

Phil wanted to worship every single centimeter of Dan that he could see.

With renewed determination, Phil slid himself down, letting his mouth finally fall beneath Dan’s collarbones, and dip below where his shirt normally hid.

“God,” Phil muttered as he kissed down Dan’s chest. “You look so fucking good beneath me.”

“Mmm,” Dan moaned incoherently. His hands stilled, his fingernails digging into the soft skin of Phil’s side.

Phil’s lips trailed farther down, landing on the erect nub of Dan’s nipple and biting lightly, just to see Dan’s reaction.

It was a good reaction — better than Phil ever could have ever imagined. Dan’s hips thrusted up, uncontrollably smashing into Phil’s, and a loud keen was ripped from his throat.

Dan was a loud person. His laugh was loud, his voice was loud, his personality was loud.

Phil should have known that his sex would be loud, too.

Suckling at one nipple wasn’t enough though — not for Phil and, based on Dan’s whimpers and tugging hands, not for Dan either. Eager to give Dan all that he could, Phil kissed his way over to Dan’s other nipple, giving it the same tender, biting attention.

Dan writhed under Phil, his hips wriggling against Phil’s crotch and causing their cocks to grind together.

Despite Phil’s best efforts to maintain his composure, the sudden assault of Dan’s hips on Phil’s had him collapsing against Dan, letting his hips crash down and his forehead fall to Dan’s chest.

A sharp tugging at the nape of Phil’s neck pulled his head upwards, making him look up at Dan’s face.

“The sofa—” Dan panted, “I can’t.” He raised up, kissing Phil heatedly, moving their lips together so hurriedly Phil thought they might be in a race. “Bed—” Dan gasped. “Now, please.”

Fuck.

There was no way Phil could refuse a request like that from Dan. Not when Dan looked this docile, this soft, this turned on.

Wordlessly, Phil pushed off of Dan and held his hand out, silently beckoning Dan off the sofa. Dan didn’t hesitate; his hand grasped onto Phil’s and he used the weight of Phil to pull himself to standing.

“Let’s go,” Dan muttered. He didn’t let go of Phil’s hand, instead opting to pull Phil behind him, dragging him down the hallway and through a darkened doorway.

Desperate to get to see Dan — whatever this night would let him see, anyway — Phil fumbled on the wall, searching for a light switch.

“Don’t,” Dan ordered. In the dark of the room, Phil could only feel the warm grasp of Dan’s hand linking around his wrist, pulling it from the wall and back to Dan’s waist. “Just come here.”

Dan’s hands were on top of Phil’s, holding them firmly to his waist, as he stepped backwards and guided them towards the bed.

At the last minute, Dan spun them around and forced Phil to fall backwards onto the bed. For a split second, Phil was disappointed that the weight of Dan didn’t immediately crash on top of him — until the soft light of a bedside lamp filled the room, that was. It casted a more subtle, intimate light than the overhead light that Phil had looked for, and he was grateful for it.

Standing between his legs and looking down at him, Dan looked so soft, so fragile, in the warm light of the lamp, and Phil wanted nothing more than to ravish him.

“Come here, beautiful,” Phil begged, his hands reaching out for the hem of Dan’s jeans. They found purchase, and he tugged Dan down. The sudden movement caused Dan to tumble forward and fall into Phil, their bare chests lining up, their hips crashing together.

“You’ve been so good for so long,” Phil whispered huskily, speaking right next to Dan’s ear. “What do you want, baby?”

Dan’s forehead fell forward, his mouth desperately nipping at Phil’s neck. “Anything,” he mumbled. “Whatever you’ll give me.” His voice was high pitched and desperate.

Phil’s cock twitched, heat pooling in his stomach.

“Let me up,” Phil urged. He pushed gently on Dan’s chest and forced him upwards until he was perched on top of Phil, straddling his hips.

Phil’s hands drifted down, coming to rest on Dan’s waist, and tipped him over. Dan went willingly, falling into the bed and wrapping his legs around Phil in the process, effectively forcing Phil to follow him down.

“Phil,” Dan moaned. Warm hands looped around Phil’s shoulders and pulled him closer — though Phil wasn’t sure how they could possibly be touching more than they already were. Dan’s head fell back again, and Phil dove in without further invitation.

Kissing down the side of Dan’s neck, Phil could feel Dan’s hurried pulse, could feel his fast breath, and it was all positively intoxicating. Phil was certain that there was nothing better than this, than having Dan squirming beneath him.

Or that was what Phil thought until Dan’s hand’s slipped from Phil’s back, at least.

Suddenly, Dan’s hands were tracing hot trails down Phil’s back. Trails that didn’t stop, trails that were unimpeded by the barrier of Phil’s jeans.

No, Dan’s hands kept going and going and going. They brushed over Phil’s lower back and dipped straight below the hem of his trousers, completely forgoing his pants and reaching straight for his bare arse.

Phil already didn’t have any resolve left, but the feeling of Dan’s hands on his naked butt absolutely drove him wild.

Abruptly, Phil pushed himself off of Dan, kneeling upright between his legs so that he had access to Dan’s entire body. Phil’s hands flew to Dan’s zipper, working the button between his fingers without pushing it through the hole.

“Can I?” Phil asked. Even to his own ears, his voice was deep and scratchy — he could only imagine what it sounded like to Dan.

Clearly, though, Dan wasn’t turned off by Phil’s voice. “Please,” he begged. His hand reached out, too, and landed on Phil’s trousers. His fingers slipped beneath the hem and toyed at the button. “But only if I can, too,” Dan teased with a smile, a weak attempt at banter during the heat of the moment.

“Whatever you want,” Phil promised shamelessly, slipping Dan’s button through the hole, and almost simultaneously feeling the relief of his own jeans loosening.

Before Phil could do anything else, Dan pushed him away by the hips, forcing him to stand up at the edge of the bed. Dan’s hips canted up as he slipped his hands beneath his own trousers and pulled them down, taking his pants with them. When they were far enough down Dan’s legs, Phil reached for them, tugged the tight fabric over Dan’s slender legs and away from his body entirely. With absolutely no regard for what were probably expensive jeans, Phil dropped Dan’s clothes to the bedroom floor and sought out Dan again.

“Off,” Dan commanded, his hands reaching for Phil’s trousers and sharply pulling down. Phil happily obliged, tugging his jeans and pants over his arse and down his thighs, all the way down to his ankles. Two kicks of his feet, and then Phil was entirely free of his clothing.

He stared down at Dan, finally realizing that this was it. That they were both completely naked together, that they were finally about to be able to explore each other in a way they’d never been able to before.

“Phiw,” Dan pleaded. His arms extended and he made grabby hands at Phil, urging him closer. “I need you.”

Phil was powerless to resist Dan’s pleas, equally desperate to have their bare bodies finally laying against each other. Phil fell forward and landed on top of Dan softly, his elbows just barely catching him before he knocked the wind out of Dan.

Dan’s hands immediately sought purchase on Phil’s hips, quickly roaming to Phil’s more private parts. One hand slid backwards, wrapping around to cup Phil’s arse, while the other slid forward, just barely grazing Phil’s inner thigh.

Phil’s cock throbbed with desire. If Dan’s hand was just a centimeter or two over, he’d be grasping onto Phil — something Phil wanted more than anything in this moment.

Well, almost anything.

Above all else, Phil wanted to touch Dan. He wanted to give Dan what he hadn’t gotten in months, what Isabella, hopefully, couldn’t ever really give him.

“Touch me,” Dan begged as his own hand reached down a little more, and settled firmly on Phil’s cock.

For a brief moment, Phil couldn’t breathe, much less concentrate on doing anything for Dan in return. Slowly and steadily, Dan’s hand dragged up Phi’s cock, squeezing lightly at the head before trailing back down. His grip was tight and rough, in the best possible way, and Phil had to fight to maintain his composure.

“Phil,” Dan desperately urged.

Phil’s eyes snapped back to Dan’s, took in the way his pupils had blown wide, the way he was biting his lip, pleading with Phil, and that was all it took to pull Phil back from his delirious bliss. Pushing up on one elbow, Phil reached down between them and took the base of Dan’s cock in his hand. His hand slid up, pulling the foreskin back and thumbing over Dan’s slit. A bead of precum leaked out, and Phil smeared it down, using it to smooth out his movements. Dan was long and heavy in Phil’s hand — better than Phil could have imagined.

In response to Phil’s touch, Dan’s hand began to pick up speed, gliding up and down Phil’s cock faster and faster as Dan seemed to become overwhelmed with pleasure. Phil could feel tension building in him, could feel the way his stomach was tightening and his balls were drawing up, but he wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

He was far too worked up from months of pining, of waiting, to be able to hold out the way he wanted to, so Dan needed to stop.

“Slow down,” Phil said, his breath coming out in sharp heaves. “I don’t — not yet,” he begged. “I have a better idea.”

Phil let go of Dan, and knocked Dan’s hand out of the way. Determined to hold out, to not give into pleasure quite yet, Phil grabbed Dan’s wrists and pulled them up and over his head, pinning them to the bed.

“Can you be good and keep your hands up here for me?” Phil asked, but it came out like more of a demand.

Apparently, Dan liked that, though. His eyes widened, his pupils growing even larger, his hands shaking in Phil’s firm grip.

“Yes,” Dan gasped, his hips thrusting up against Phil’s.

“Good boy,” Phil praised. He released Dan’s wrists and brushed his hands down down down Dan’s body, finally coming to rest at his hips. “You look amazing,” Phil murmured, taking in the sight of Dan’s long, leaking cock.

Now that Phil had touched, now that Phil had been touched, he couldn’t resist either feeling. So rather than picking — his cock or Dan’s — Phil seized both of their cocks in his hand. It was a good thing his fingers were long, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to wrap around both of them. As it was, his fingers didn’t meet his palm.

It was good enough, though. Tonight, Phil didn’t want to fuck Dan — well, he did, but this wasn’t the right moment. Tonight was about exploring, about finally being able to feel each other and indulge in the feeling of each other.

And the feeling of their cocks pressed together, the pressure from Phil’s hands squeezing them tighter, pulling up and down their shafts — it was sheer heaven.

Hands still above his head, Dan thrusted up into Phil’s grip. His movements were just slightly out of time with Phil’s strokes, creating even more friction on both of their cocks. Phil met Dan thrust for thrust, stroking them both as best as he could, even though they were both rapidly coming undone.

In just a few more strokes before Phil could feel himself reeling toward the edge again. Every graze of his hand against his cock, every twitch of Dan’s cock against his, pushed Phil closer and closer toward the precipice.

“Shit,” Phil gasped. His hand instinctively squeezed at his base, tightening around Dan too. “I’m — fucking — close.”

Hands still above his head, Dan’s hips thrusted up, jarring Phil’s hands back into movement, and he resumed a slower pace up and down their cocks.

“Me too,” Dan moaned. “Please, just — more.”

Dan’s head flew back, and Phil couldn’t help dropping down and sucking — sucking harder than he probably should. Maybe tomorrow he’d care, but right now he certainly didn’t.

“Phiiw,” Dan cried out, his hips stuttering. Phil groaned at the way his name sounded on Dan’s lips, nothing more than a deep moan, and felt his hips start to thrust harder into his fist. Phil couldn’t seem to help himself, but it didn’t matter, because Dan seemed to be enjoying it too. He arched his neck further into Phil’s mouth, and choked out, “Close.”

Dan seemed to lose control of his hands; they slipped down and grabbed Phil’s shoulders. His nails dug in, and the sharp pain only added to the white hot pleasure Phil felt.

With the hand he was bracing himself on, Phil shifted, tangling it in Dan’s hair and tugging sharply, stroking upwards on their cocks at the same time.

“Fuck,” Dan moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” His breath hitched, his face scrunched up, his body tensed under Phil’s. Phil could see it before it happened, he could see Dan letting go, and then he did. Phil could feel streaks of warm cum shooting over his hand, and splattering against both of their chests.

The moans and whimpers that tumbled from Dan’s mouth were intoxicating, and so loud that Phil would have been worried about the neighbors if Dan didn’t have the floor to himself. The look of euphoria on Dan’s face, and the throbbing of his cock against Phil’s, was all Phil needed to topple over the edge himself.

The orgasm that had been pulling at his stomach since Dan had first kissed him — fuck, since Dan had first smiled at him months ago — surged through him, wracking his body in quick, hot spurts.

Phil’s breath mingled with Dan’s, and he lunged forward, locking their lips together. They were both too far gone to properly kiss, but just the feel of Dan’s lips underneath his own intensified the feeling of his orgasm.

“So good,” Phil whimpered. “So fucking good.” He could feel his cock pulsing in his hand, shooting what felt like endless streaks of cum against Dan’s chest, and it was so good. Phil’s entire body shook with the feeling.

Dan’s fingers dug deeper into Phil’s shoulders, just for a second, before he relaxed entirely, going completely boneless under Phil. Phil watched through half lidded eyes as Dan collapsed. As a final streak of cum dribbled out of Phil’s cock, he fell forward, unable to hold himself up any longer.

They laid together, trying to catch their breath. Phil didn’t even have the energy to roll off of Dan, so he just sunk down, hoping that he wasn’t crushing Dan. Their chests moved up and down in synchrony, far faster than they normally would. Phil wiggled his hand from between them, carelessly wiping their mixed cum on the bedspread, before tangling his still-sticky fingers in the sweat-soaked, curly locks of Dan’s hair.

“Jesus fucking christ, Phil,” Dan murmured, his eyes still closed and body still completely lax. “How are you that good already?”

Chuckling quietly, Phil tucked his head into Dan’s neck, pressing a kiss into the hollow of his collarbone. “I guess that beat good enough, then.”

A/N: COME SCREAM AT ME.

[roxashighwind]

Mighty Deeds | Darcy Lewis/Mjolnir

Relationship: Darcy Lewis/Mjolnir

Characters: Darcy Lewis ; Mjolnir (Marvel) ; Jane Foster (Marvel) ; Sif (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Human Mjolnir (Marvel) ; Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence ; Fix-It ; Canon Divergence - Thor: Ragnarok (2017) ; Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Spoilers

Words: 4362

Summary:

When Mjolnir is destroyed (in Norway, she finds out later), Darcy isn’t even sure what’s going on. She’s in the lab with Jane (nowhere near Norway) and her vision goes weird. She doesn’t really have any other words for it, and she looks up from her laptop, frantically trying to spot Jane.

- Set in a world where Mjolnir can take an Asgardian shape, and has been involved with Darcy Lewis since the first Thor film. A fix-it of sorts for Mjolnir being destroyed, and also an answer for "Where's Sif?"

{also on ao3}

When Mjolnir is destroyed (in Norway, she finds out later), Darcy isn’t even sure what’s going on. She’s in the lab with Jane (nowhere near Norway) and her vision goes weird. She doesn’t really have any other words for it, and she looks up from her laptop, frantically trying to spot Jane.

“Darcy, do you have the -” Jane stops short as she turns away from one of her and Erik’s homemade devices. “D… Are you okay? Why are you crying?”

Her hands go to her face, laptop balanced precariously on her knees, and oh. Oh her face is really wet. “Oh.” Smart.

Jane grabs the box of tissue from the table nearest Darcy as she hurries over. “Hey. Hey. What’s going on? I’m the only one that’s supposed to be spontaneously crying in the lab.” She yanks out a few tissues, crumples them a little, and starts dabs at Darcy’s face.

“Thanks. I…” She takes the wad of tissues from Jane when she gets too close to poking her in the eye. “I don’t know. Everything just got really weird looking and then you told me I was crying.”

She frowns and awkwardly pats at Darcy’s shoulder. “Well that’s not weird at all.”

“You’re telling me! I’m not even sad.” Her words get caught in her throat and oh. Maybe she is sad. “That’s… weird.”

“So you are sad?”

Darcy shrugs, but the more she thinks about it the more it feels like something is really wrong. Her chest hurts, and her head is starting to hurt, and her eyes won’t stop leaking. “I think so? I think I read something online about this kind of thing.” She types one handed, and pulls up a blog post that someone had made.

“‘Randomly assigned to mourn someone,’” reads Jane. “I mean. I don’t think that’s true but stranger things have happened to us.” She grabs a few more tissues for Darcy, takes away the soaked ones and drops them into the trash.

“It feels like part of me is missing?” She’s not sure, and she keeps prodding at that ‘wrong’ feeling in her chest. “Like… like when Pop Pop died last year?” It’s the closest comparison she can make to the feeling that’s starting to really weigh on her, though it feels like she’s still in that denial ‘it hasn’t hit me yet’ stage from when she’d first gotten the call about Pop Pop.

Jane’s frown deepens, and she pulls up her rolly chair. She sits on it, and turns Darcy toward her, scooting forward until their knees are touching. “Hey. Whatever’s going on… We’ll figure it out.”

Darcy nods, and suddenly she’s sobbing. Well, that’s unfortunate. She manages to close her laptop and set it aside before it can slide off her lap and hit the floor, and then Jane is gathering her up into a tight hold as she falls apart.

--

Sif shows up nearly a week later, while Darcy sleeps off her latest round of crying.

“Lady Jane. I am sorry for showing up unannounced.” She looks harried, hair a mess (shorter than the last time Jane had seen her) and a frown creasing her brow. “Is the Lady Darcy here?”

Jane steps to the side to let the Asgardian in before Sif can push her way past. “She’s sleeping. What’s up?” She closes the door and follows Sif as she moves toward the hall to Darcy’s room.

The Asgardian stops and takes a deep breath. “Something happened.”

“I got that already.”

“The Allfather is dead. Mjolnir is destroyed. I have no contact with Asgard, nor any of the Warriors Three.” The words fall from her mouth in a rush. She pulls a pack from her shoulder and moves toward the living room table.

“Um… Oh my god, what?” Jane’s heart sinks. She didn’t like Odin, but he was Thor’s father and she can’t imagine how terrible he must feel. “Run that by me one more time?”

Sif drops the pack onto the living room table. It makes a lot of noise and she sighs before taking a seat on the couch. “The Allfather has died. We should have expected it. After Frigga... It was only a matter of time.” She starts to open the pack, releasing its drawstring and stretching the opening until it eventually lays flat on the table.

There are chunks of metal and a handle and it’s with dawning horror that Jane realizes that she’s looking at Mjolnir, shattered, on her coffee table. “Oh. My. God.”

“She can be repaired.” Sif touches the handle. “I think.”

It takes Jane almost a minute before she can say anything. She tears her eyes away from the table and looks at Sif. “And the rest of it? You can’t communicate with Asgard? Not even Heimdall?”

She nods. “That is right. Whatever is going on… There is nothing I can do to help my realm. I suspect that Loki is involved, but… I cannot prove it if I cannot contact anyone. And so I am here.” She takes a shaky breath. “It seems only right to bring her here,” she says with a nod to the shattered hammer.

“Jane?” Darcy’s voice is small. She sounds exhausted, and like she’s about to start crying again. It had been coming in waves since she started. “I heard… Sif!”

Sif pushes herself up from the couch and turns toward the mouth of the hallway, where Darcy is standing looking uncertain. In a few long strides she’s got Darcy wrapped in a tight hug. “Lady Darcy. I’m so sorry.”

The firm hold, the fact that it’s Sif that’s doing it, has her crying again. Her arms rest loosely around Sif, unable to hold tightly. She wants to sleep again, just for a break from the overwhelming sorrow that weighs on her like a bunch of blankets in winter.

Jane lets them hug, lets Darcy cry, and turns her attention to the pieces of hammer. What had caused the damage? The myths, and fights that Jane had seen with her own eyes, lead her to believe that the hammer was indestructible. Evidence in front of her contradicts that, obviously, and Jane wants to cover the chunks of metal to not have to look at them anymore.

Instead, she picks up a two pieces, each with a smooth side that would be one of the hammer’s faces if it was in one piece. “This has to suck for you,” she murmurs to the pieces. She turns them over in her hands, trying to find the way they slot together.

It takes nearly a minute to find the perfect way that the two pieces sit together. She makes a soft triumphant sound, pleased, and then frowns. How are they going to stay together? Something inside her jumps, as though reaching out to the pieces of Mjolnir in her hands. For a moment, Jane thinks that her vision goes red, but that’s silly.

“...Jane…”

“Lady Jane…” Sif echoes Darcy.

Jane looks up, startled at the voices so close. “Hmm? Oh… I was just…”

Darcy slides to her knees next to the table. She reaches for the handle and cradles it careful to her chest. “Myuh-myuh.”

Sif’s short sword is in her hand, and Jane’s not sure where she was hiding it when she came in. “Lady Jane. Are you well?”

She blinks up at Sif, then looks down at the pieces of hammer in her hands. Or… well, there is certainly a piece of hammer in her hands. There is no noticeable seam, and Jane nearly drops it. She’d been holding two pieces just a bit ago, hadn’t she? “I’m fine, Sif.”

“You got all glowy and red.” Her fingers stroke the handle absently. “Pretty weird.”

Jane looks between the metal in her hand, Darcy, and Sif, and chews on the inside of her cheek. “I… Weird, yeah.”

“Lady Jane,” repeats Sif. “Are you still affected by the aether?” She’s wary, sword still in hand but less aggressively held.

“I don’t… I don’t know?” But she does know, doesn’t she? Jane sets the piece of hammer with the rest and scrubs her hands against her thighs. “I mean…”

“She is,” Darcy replies, and she’s cradling the handle to her chest. “It doesn’t do anything very often, but sometimes when she’s really focused she moves things.”

“I do?” This is the first time Jane’s heard about it.

“Yeah, and that guy who tried to touch you on the train last week? You zapped him but really low-key.” Darcy shrugs, unbothered. “Thought you knew.”

“It’s not like it was when it… possessed me or whatever,” she assures Sif. “I don’t lose time or anything.”

Sif finally puts her sword down, but keeps it within easy reach. “I shall trust that you know yourself,” she says, and lets herself sink to the floor next to Jane. “Can you do it again?” she asks, gesturing to the pieces of Mjolnir on the table.

Jane sucks her lip into her mouth for a moment. “I think so.” She looks at the pile of metal chunks, then at Sif, then Darcy, and back to the table. “Help me find pieces that go together?”

Darcy is the first to pull more pieces from the pile, and compared to the others she has the best lucky at getting pieces to fit together quickly. She hands her snugged together pieces to Jane, and with a swirl of red energy the pieces fuse together. She and Sif trade off handing pieces to Jane, and Jane ends up with a lap full of hammer in a surprisingly short amount of time.

She has three pieces in her lap, and Darcy holds the last - the handle - protectively to her chest for a few long moments before slowly offering it to Jane.

“Do you need help holding her?” Darcy asks, scooting closer to Jane.

“Yeah.” She hands the largest chunk to Darcy, one almost complete half of the hammer. “Sif?” she offers one of the other pieces to the Asgardian, and shifts around to let her get close. “Okay. Hold everything steady.”

Jane positions the handle with one hand, fitting her other piece in against the handle and Darcy’s bit. “Okay. Okay.” She takes a deep breath as Sif pushes the remaining piece against the rest, and concentrates hard as she breathes out.

There’s a bright red flash, followed by a blue-white one, and a startled scream.

“Myuh-myuh!”

“Thank you, Lady Jane.” The voice rumbles through the apartment. A dark skinned woman, clad in a simple shift dress of pale blue, shimmery fabric, sits in Darcy’s lap; she smiles at Jane. “Being whole again… I owe you a debt.”

Darcy has her face buried against the woman’s shoulder, arms tight around her. “I missed you,” she murmurs like a mantra.

Jane shrugs. “I didn’t even know I could help until it happened,” she replies.

“Mjolnir.” Sif bows her head in greeting, and looks up again with a pleased - if watery - smile. “It is good to see you again.”

“Thank you for finding me, and bringing me here.” Mjolnir reaches out a hand, and smiles when Sif grabs it. She gives a gentle tug, pulling Sif to her for a tight embrace. “I did not think… Thank you.”

Awkwardly, Jane stands and makes to move in the direction of the kitchen. “Can I, um. Can I get anyone anything to drink? I’ve got water on tap, some questionably old soda in the fridge, booze...” She eyes the line of liquor bottles on the kitchen counter; she could really use a drink.

“Water please,” mumbles Darcy, face still smashed against Mjolnir’s shoulder.

“I would not be opposed to a glass of ‘booze.’” Sif separates herself from Mjolnir and takes a seat on the couch. She rubs her hands on her knees. “The recent days have been rough.”

Jane nods. “Mjolnir? Do you…?” She trails off, relatively certain that she’d never seen the Asgardian consume anything.

The hammer-woman shakes her head. “Thank you, but I am well.”

“Myuh-Myuh doesn’t really need to eat or drink unless she wants to,” adds Darcy.

She continues into the kitchen, busying herself with trying to find the higher proof alcohol she’d stashed away when she and Thor broke up; if she can find it, she can give it to Sif instead of the Midgardian booze that did nothing for her.

Mjolnir looks up at Sif. “Odin is -”

“Dead. I know,” Sif interrupts. “Whatever destroyed your form has also cut any communications with Asgard.”

Mjolnir’s shoulders slump. “That does not bode well.” She rubs a hand over her face before linking fingers with Darcy. She sighs. “Hela shattered me, and she seemed quite intent on taking up the throne with Odin passed.”

“Who’s Hela?” Darcy squeezes Mjolnir’s fingers between her own.

Jane stands from her crouched search of the cabinet next to the fridge so quickly that her head knocks against the edge of the counter. “Did you say Hela? Like Hel? The ruler of of the land of Asgard’s dead?”

“You’ve heard of her?” Mjolnir asks. “She is Odin’s first born, and wielded me before Thor was born.”

Jane makes a face. “Uh… That’s not what Erik and I read in the mythology books we could find, but… I mean, they’re not perfect reflections of Asgard. Obviously.”

Sif clenches her hands, fingers digging into the fabric of her pants. “Odin had a child before Thor? What other things were we not told?”

“The Valkyrior were sent to fight Hela back, after Odin banished her for being too bloodthirsty. It was only his life that kept her from being able to escape her imprisonment. If she’s made it to Asgard… The horrors she could unleash…” She swallows hard and leans more heavily on Darcy. “Hela wants to rule the universe, and she has the violent ambition to do it.”

“That’s…”

“Terrifying,” Darcy finishes for Jane. “So Thor’s got another sibling that wants to rule over a bunch of people? That sucks for him.”

“But explains why I cannot contact the Warriors Three,” sighs Sif. “I only hope that they are surviving.”

Mjolnir tips her head slightly to one side. “Have you attempted calling for Heimdall directly, Lady Sif?”

She nods, and forces herself to stretch her fingers. “He did not respond.”

Jane turns her attention back to the cabinet she where was sure she’d stashed the harder alcohol. Her chest hurts, and her head hurts from where she hit it, and all Jane wants to do is get smashed and pretend that she didn’t somehow magically repair her best friend’s hammer girlfriend. The others’ conversation fades into the background as she crouches to hunt through the cabinet.

It’s dusty, and she takes out a surprising number of pot lids that she is relatively certain she didn’t have the pots to match. With a triumphant noise, her fingers close around the neck of a dark glass bottle. “Yes!” She pulls it, and two more just like it, from the very back of the cabinet. Careful not to hit her head again, she stands with her prizes and sets them on the counter.

“-back. Ragnarok is likely to come to pass, and I do not think it wise to return only to lose your life.”

Jane blinks. “Who’s losing their life?” What had she missed? She pulls down glasses from their cupboard, but keeps looking over at the living room.

Mjolnir pulls one of Darcy’s hands up to her mouth, gently kissing her knuckles. “I am advising Sif that she should not ask Heimdall to return her to Asgard if he is able. Thor and I defeated Surtur, but I fear that the end of Asgard shall still come to pass, and I would prefer it if as few people lose their lives as possible.”

“Oh.” Jane pours from the dark glass bottle, filling a plastic cup with a Ninja Turtle on it nearly to the top. She takes a sip, and nearly gags; the burn is far worse than she remembers, and she muffles her coughing into the crook of her elbow.

“I am a sworn protector of -” Sif begins, only to be interrupted by Mjolnir.

“You were exiled.”

“By Loki!” she exclaims in return. “That hardly counts.”

“Loki exiled you?”

Darcy’s soft question cuts through Sif’s frustration. She sighs, and explains, “He stole the throne from Odin via trickery and deceit, and cast me out so that I would be unable to expose him.”

“How did you know?” Mjolnir asks the question, genuine confusion in her voice.

“Odin died on Midgard. Thor has been taking care of the nine realms for quite a while. Only Loki has the gall to pull off such a plan, and while I had suspected that it was the trickster and not the Allfather that cast me out, my suspicions were only confirmed with the Allfather’s passing.”

Jane carries two cups of the strong alcohol into the living room. She holds them out to Sif and Mjolnir. “Thor left this. I know you didn’t… but everyone needs a drink sometimes.”

Darcy pouts a little as Mjolnir separates their hands to take the glass. “That’s not healthy thinking, Jane,” she reprimands, though there’s no heat to it.

She rolls her eyes and heads back to the kitchen. “And yet, I’m going to have something to drink anyway.” She runs cold water through the tap until it nearly freezes her wrist, and fills a cup for Darcy. Before returning to the living room she snags a hard cider from the fridge for herself. “And I’m not drinking anything hard, even though I want to.”

“Proud of you,” Darcy murmurs, a touch sarcastic but mostly once again muffled against the back of Mjolnir’s shoulder.

She settles on the couch next to Sif after setting the water on the table next to Darcy. “What I’m getting from all of this is that bad things are happening and there’s nothing that we can do to stop it. Is that right?” She twists the cap off the cider and takes a swallow. “Well that sucks.”

“Unfortunately, that does seem to be the case,” Mjolnir says with a sigh. “I do not think that even the lingering aether in your body would allow you to send us back to Asgard.”

Sif’s fingers slacken on her cup, and it falls to the floor, splashing deep amber liquid on the carpet.

“Oh shit.” Darcy nudges Mjolnir and points to the roll of paper towels on the far end of the coffee table. She looks back at Sif, about to ask something  but she stops. Frowning, she nudges Mjolnir again as the woman leans forward with the paper towels. “Uhh… Sif?”

Jane slides off the couch, taking the paper towels from Mjolnir to begin mopping up the spilled liquor as best she can. She looks at Sif at Darcy’s unsure question. “Um… Her eyes aren’t normally that color, are they?”

Mjolnir heaves an annoyed sigh, not liking the way Sif’s eyes have gone Heimdall’s bright gold. “Heimdall is showing her what he is seeing on Asgard. I doubt it is good.”

“He can do that?” Jane and Darcy ask in unison.

“It is not a power he uses often.” She waits for Sif’s eyes to return to her usual hazel before asking, “What did you see?”

She gasps, and leans forward until she’s practically got her head between her knees. “Hela has raised an army of slain warriors. She seeks to rule Asgard and destroy anyone in her path. Heimdall is protecting those he can. I do not… He says that I am to stay safe on Midgard, that I am more needed here.” Her voice shakes, and when Jane looks closer she can see she’s crying.

It’s scary, because in the time that she’s known Sif - which admittedly isn’t a long time if compiled into consecutive in-person minutes - she had never seen her this distressed. “Sif…”

“Than stay on Midgard we shall. If Heimdall, the All-Seeing, has told you that you are needed here,” starts Mjolnir.

Sif groans. “For a weapon, you are very content to stay away from the fighting.”

“Hammers are not just tools of destruction, Lady Sif.” Mjolnir’s voice is hard, cold, and lightning sparks along her hairline. “While I could conceivably make my way back to Thor’s hand, the time and energy it would take to get so far across the cosmos is not worth it. If Heimdall has said that you are more useful here, than Midgard is where we shall remain, to be as useful as we are able.”

“‘So far across the cosmos...’” Darcy echoes. “What does that mean? Are the realms or whatever so spread out that it would take you ages to get anywhere without the rainbow bridge?”

The lightning dissipates as all eyes turn toward her. “Thor is not on Asgard. He is not in any of the nine realms.”

“You know where he is?” Jane asks, still attempting to get the liquor out of her carpet.

“Not by name, but by distance, yes.” Mjolnir looks at Sif. “We should offer our assistance to the Man of Iron and his team.”

“Anthony Stark…” Sif begins, but stops herself and finally moves to help Jane clean up the mess she’d made.

Darcy frowns. “Tony’s not that bad to work with, is he?”

“Thor is not entirely fond of him,” Mjolnir answers for Sif. “He is not a bad man, he is just… somewhat difficult. Yet I do believe that we should offer our assistance in any way he may need, as an authority in the protection of this realm.”

Sif sighs, and slowly nods as she presses a wad of paper towels against the carpet. “You are wise, Mjolnir. I just wish that I could do something for my people.”

Darcy wiggles out from under Mjolnir, presses a kiss to her shoulder in the process. She scrambles around the couch and down the hallway, and the others watch her go. She returns quickly, phone in her hands. “I knew I had Tony’s number!”

Jane stares at Darcy as though she’s grown a second head. “When’d you get that?”

“A lady never reveals her sources.”

“Darcy.”

She rolls her eyes. “Maria gave it to me in case anything ever happened, okay? It updates in my phone on its own. Which seems really sketchy, but…” Darcy trails off with a shrug, and folds herself down onto the floor next to Mjolnir. “Who wants to call him?”

Mjolnir and Sif exchange looks, and Jane has to admit that she shares their unease about actually going through with it. “Right now?”

“Now’s as good a time as any!” She leans into Mjolnir’s space, rubbing the side of her face against the woman’s shoulder. “I’m doing it.” After a quick swipe of her thumb, Darcy puts her phone to her ear and waits.

“Is that AC/DC?” Jane asks with a frown.

“Custom sound thing, yeah.” Darcy holds up a hand a moment later. “Hey Tony! This is Darc- Oh yeah, caller ID is cool, isn’t it. I know you’ve probably got like meetings or something going on but I’ve got two Asgardians here that want to meet with you.”

It takes Jane a surprising amount of restraint to keep from face palming. “Darcy,” she reprimands softly, but she’s already talking again.

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” She listens in silence for a few moments. “I mean, I’ve got access to Hill’s - No, we don’t need - Hey, let me talk! We can get there on our own, just. Let us stay in the tower or something.” She brightens. “I’ll let you know when we get in. And if you’re really so upset about me having your personal number, talk to Maria! Okay bye!”

“He was displeased by your call?” asks Sif.

“A little, but mostly because I interrupted a meeting and he didn’t know that there were any Asgardians here at the moment. I feel a little bad about interrupting, but the meeting was with Pepper - who totally says hi, Jane - so it wasn’t anything super major. Or at least he wasn’t completely upset about the interruption.”

Jane smiles; Pepper Potts is nice, and it’s really good to see Darcy back to her normal self after the last week. “I take it we’re going to New York?”

Darcy nods and nudges Mjolnir. “Yup!” She pops the ‘p’ and smiles. “Now I just have to text Maria and Sharon and see which of them can actually get us to New York. Otherwise I’m gonna have to dip into savings to get us flights.”

Mjolnir frowns. “I do not have Midgardian documents of identification.”

“Mjolnir.” Sif rests a hand on Mjolnir’s leg. “You can retake your hammer form.”

She shifts, but does not pull away from Sif’s touch. “I… would prefer to remain in this shape for a while.”

Darcy nudges her again. “I mean, I would too if I had been in pieces for a while.” She links her fingers with Mjolnir’s again, and taps out a text message with her other hand.

The others make noises of agreement, and Jane pushes herself up from the floor. “Anyone hungry?” she asks, leaning back down to scoop up the liquor soaked paper towels. “We’ll probably be waiting a while, and I know Asgardians need to eat.”

As Jane carries the mess to the kitchen trash, Sif manages a small smile. “Thank you, Lady Jane. I do believe a small feast is in order, to celebrate the returning of Mjolnir to one piece. It would be a pleasant distraction as we await word from Lady Maria or Lady Sharon.” A soft flush colors her cheeks as she says Sharon’s name.

Jan grabs the stack of takeout menus they keep on the counter near the fridge. “Then let’s pick dinner.” She smiles to the others and spreads the menus out on the coffee table.

Darcy sets her phone within reach and curls herself more firmly into Mjolnir’s side as the debate over food begins. She shares a smile with Jane before launching into a detailed explanation of the merits of one pizza place over another.

{if you like what i do here, consider buying me a coffee, and thank you so much for reading!}

[diagnosingdan]

Feeling Sentimental — Jan, 2015 

Over the past couple of days I’ve been back in contact with two of my oldest friends Bunny and Paul. I’ve known Bunny since I was born, or at least that’s how the story goes. We were virtually inseparable throughout primary school, junior school, high school and college. Bunny was the academic one so as you might expect I copied his work in maths, english, science, RE, IT, history and geography. In return I did his Art homework. In hindsight, it wasn’t really a fair trade-off.

I met Paul in high school. The three of us were put in the same class, 7B25 (year 7, blue tie, room 25). Paul could turn his hand to most things: he’s an exceptional musician, he was pretty handy with a brush and the school’s substandard poster paint and like Bunny he was academic. He was also, if it’s not too rude to say, pretty swift for a big guy!

Chatting with them both got ol’ soppy bollocks over here started feeling rather sentimental. It got me thinking about high school, which in my case wasn’t the horror story we’re so used to hearing. In fact I had a great time! I played Rugby inside and outside of school. I ran, a lot. I played golf. I swam. My drawing skills were probably better then than they are now and overall I was pretty popular — although I’m sure a few people would have a little something to say about that!

I got lucky, I wasn’t riddled with blemished skin — I had a few spots but nothing too drastic. I can’t even remember my voice breaking. And I had the pleasure of sharing my adolescence with some wonderful people, some of whom I keep in contact with, some I don’t (but wish I did) and of course there’s a handful that, frankly, are better left in the past.

After college Bunny moved to York and Paul to Leicester. We kept in contact, we still do, but we don’t speak or see one another half as much as we could/should. Now I’m in my mid twenties I’m determined to keep our friendships from petering out. That’s not just because Bunny and Paul are both wonderful people that I enjoy spending time with. It’s because we have history.

Here’s a little Diagnosing Dan fact: Bunny has witnessed more of my black-outs than anyone else. More than my closest friends at University, even more than my Mum, Dad, Brother and Sister. By now Becks and Bunny are probably level pegging but that’s quite an achievement when you consider that I’ve been in a relationship with Becks for nigh on eight years.

Throughout the first twelve to eighteen months of my illness, shortly before Becks and I became a couple, I was blacking out three to four times a week. And poor Bunny found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time, time and time again. Thankfully my blackouts have continued to reduce substantially since.

For the first year of my illness Bunny was my unofficial and slightly unconventional carer. I don’t recall Bunny making that decision consciously, I think it was just thrust upon him. That being so, I’m very grateful. He approached every situation with a level headedness well beyond our years, which is invaluable when you’re caught in a swarm of eighteen year olds. Over half a decade on and despite seeing Bunny no more than a handful of times each year, I will always appreciate everything he’s done for me.

Paul’s story takes us back to 2006-2007. I was in and out of hospital on a bi-weekly basis and like many of my friends Paul was off at University. He was living in Leicester, not too far from Luton and wasn’t back very often. We mainly interacted via text and MySpace (phones weren’t quite the walking, talking, internet surfing pocket computers that we have today). I was still on pay as you go, 10p a text, so communication with the outside world was limited.

It was a day much like any other in CCU. I was unceremoniously woken for breakfast by Cathy, one of the day nurses — and one of the most over-qualified, under-utilised nurses you’ll ever meet — who took great pleasure in tilting the top half of my electric hospital bed to its upright position (just short of a right angle) before moving the handset out of reach forcing me to get up. It became a battle of wills. I’d try powering through, ignoring my cricked neck and the pains shooting down my spine but she would invariably win in the end.

After breakfast and doctors rounds I’d spend hours getting ready. I quickly mastered the three hour, three S’s: shit, shower, shave. That’d leave me just enough time to get dressed and have a drink before lunch. Nap time was around two o’clock. I’d entertain myself by visiting the lovely, elderly female patients at the other end of the ward.  In my experience, there’s a lot of truth in the theory that women handle illness better than men. But that’s a topic for another day.

Between three and four o’clock my eyes would be glued to the clock hanging precariously over the toilet door. Four o’clock was the start of visiting hours. I was always excited even if I wasn’t expecting anyone, it was just nice to hear some different voices. However, this particular day played out slightly differently.

Around half past three my phone rang, it was Paul. “Are you in CCU?” he asked. Which of course I was. He continued, “Can you come and let me in?” Confused and excited in equal measure, I clambered out of my seat, stepped over a pyramid of cardboard urine bottles stacked next to my bed and walked out into the dimly lit corridor. Turning to face the entrance/exit (a pair of locked double doors) I instantly recognised that mass of dark, fluffy afro hair bobbing up and down through one of the door’s small, circular, reinforced windows.

The nurses were pretty strict on visiting hours so I began to panic. Would they let him in before four o’clock? I pushed the big green button against the wall and Paul slowly pushed his way through the door dragging an battered, black suitcase behind him. Before saying hello he announced, “Don’t worry I’ve spoken to one of the nurses, they said we can use the relatives room.” I turned round to see Mel, the sister on duty walking towards us with a smile from ear to ear. She guided us into the relatives room, flicked on the light, turned to Paul and said “You can stay as long as you like. Have fun!” And with that, she walked out and closed the door behind her.

Still confused I watched Paul unzip the suitcase, flick it open and pull out two foot long subways and a two litre bottle of coke. He gave one of the subways a sniff, “That’s yours.” he said. He continued to rummage through the suitcase and like a tech-savvy clown began pulling out a never-ending bundle of wires. Then the big guns started to appear: a TV, a remote, two controllers, a stack of games and a PS2.

Needless to say that was, without question, the best day I ever spent in hospital. Hell, it’s up there as one of my best days ever! Around nine/ten o'clock, long after visiting hours were over, Mel popped her head round the door and gave the knowing nod we’d both been expecting.

Paul stood up and before we had chance to say a thing Mel jumped in and announced that I was allowed to keep the PS2 in the ward on a few conditions:

I had to pack it up each evening.

I had to keep the room clean and tidy.

Visiting families had priority and I would have to leave the room as soon as I was asked.

I can’t remember exactly how long I kept the PS2 in CCU. I was waiting for a transfer so I can’t imagine much longer than a few days. But what a glorious few days they were!

A few posts back I asked everyone to raise a glass to my Mum, today I’m going to ask you to do the same but to good friends. Tonight I’ll be raising mine to Bunny and Paul.

[gelphie]

Hello! OMG! I love SM! ... well I have a question, and I'm not sure what to think... I think I have a crush on a teacher... I'm not sure of my sexuality, but, I don't know what to do :( What do you think?

Okay. My advice differs depending on your age and what kind of school you’re in, but all answers do fall back on this: A student cannot have a romantic relationship with a teacher. With university its a bit different, but highschool and lower is an obvious no-go.

Also, my first best advice before anything is: ask a professional! Ask the student counsellor at your school, look for official resources for young people online written by experts, ect. They will probably know better than me. But here are my thoughts also.

Before I get onto the school discussion, I want to address the sexuality remark. When it comes to exploring your sexual orientation and your sexuality in general, this is my best advice: Do it safely (if you havent learnt about safe sex and healthy relationships via your school, so some research yourself, stick to more official sources of info because people lie on the internet All The Time) do it slowly (there’s no need to rush to be sure you’re gay or bi or anything else) and only do what you really want to do. Do it with people you trust. If you’re a teenager: seriously, take your time. You don’t need to be doing stuff by a certain age. Lots of people don’t do anything until their 20′s or later. No pressure, yeah? BUT on the teacher crush thing. I’m going to break this into 2 sections, so refer to whichever applies:

Highschool or lower:

Getting crushes on teachers is very common. Its because teachers are guides; they’re often mature, knowledgeable, and if you like them they’re probably charismatic enough to hold a class’s attention. Sadly, your crush should not go beyond that for a lot of reasons. I would suggest turning your attention to your peers. Having crushes is fun, and good, and you can have a crush on whoever you want. But it’s more fun having a crush that could potentially be returned, and will not make you vulnerable to manipulation.

Reasons you probably shouldn’t crush on your teacher in highschool (or earlier) and certainly not try to act on it:

1. It’s illegal to act on it. Like, straight up. It’s illegal! Whether you’re 18 or not, teachers can’t have relationships with students in any form of schooling pre-university. 

2. They’re probably considerably older than you, and that gives them power. Having a relationship with someone who is more powerful than you in like, life-style ways, is almost never a good idea. I don’t mean physical strength when I say that, I mean other forms of power such as level of income, availability to a car, living independently, general experience and life knowledge, ect.

There are also certain powers that they have that are unique to teachers, such as the ability to control your grades, to treat you unfairly in class, to unfairly get you in trouble, or to pressure you to do things you don’t want to do using their authority as a teacher in public. Dating someone who has authority over you is not a good idea. While it would be nice to think people are simply too good to use that authority, it’s not worth the risk, and statistically people do that all the time. It’s the sad truth. :/

3. Whether you like it or not, they will be older than you, and that makes you vulnerable. This kind of ties into the last one, but its worth expanding on. Let’s say you’re 18 and they are 26. You both have a car, you both have jobs that somehow earn equal amounts of money, you’re both living out of home. What would be the imbalance there, other than the authority they have over you at school?

The imbalance is that you are 18 and they are 26, and your brain development is at different stages. That’s still too much an imbalance. When I was 18, I didn’t see a lot of differences between myself and the adults within 10 years of me. I was an adult now, I was a Whole Eighteen Years.

Now as a 21 year old, I can already see so much difference between myself and an 18 year old. In those early years from 13 - 25, you are ageing RAPIDLY. The difference between a 12 year old and 14 year old is a lot. the difference between a 14 year old and a 16 year old is a lot! it’s the same with an 18 and a 20 year old. There’s a lot of development that happens there. And from the perspective of a 21 year old, it’s really weird that a 26 year old would want to date an 18 year old. That seems very inappropriate and exploitative, especially if that 26 year old is that 18 year old’s teacher. It’s just creepy. Even though 18 is the legal age of consent, I would personally recommend you stay within 2 years of your own age until you’re a solid 22 or over. Obviously some people are just at different maturity levels and there might be someone you vibe with that’s 5 years older or something, that’s up to you to navigate (as long as you’re over 18), but if they’re a teacher they are defs Off Limits.

4. Probably the least important but still to be noted, it puts the teacher in an awkward position. Most teachers are not at all attracted to their students. When a student is coming onto them, (unless they are the sort of person you do not want to be in a relationship with) they are probably super uncomfortable with it. Teachers have a lot of restrictions on how they can talk to students and what they can talk about, so they’re put in a pretty precarious position.

I’m not saying this to be like “think about the teacher”, but more for this reason: if this is a teacher you respect that you want to be able to have a good, interesting conversation with, you want them to be comfortable enough to talk to you openly. I was friends with a bunch of my highschool teachers - if I didn’t have those relationships, I probably would have dropped out of school. If my teachers ever thought I was crushing on them, they would probably have felt less comfortable having those friendships, and they would have distanced themselves from me. Because as good teachers, they know not to encourage those feelings. 

TL;DR: You can’t have a romantic relationship with your teacher, you just can’t, but you can be friends and get support from those teachers. Those friendships will be way better if you aren’t nurturing feelings for them, because if they are a good teacher they will try to discourage those feelings as much as possible. Therefore, the best way to have a good highschool experience and get to know your teachers is to think of them as parents or role models rather than people you’re into.

University:

This is a more complicated situation. Relationships with faculty are not illegal in most countries/universities as far as I know. Either way, I wouldn’t recommend it for the following reasons:

1. The same point as 3. of the highschool reasons. They MIGHT be a similar age to you, but they are likely older than you, and you are likely 18 - 25 (if you’re older, its different, ofc.) You are a uni student, but you’re still young, and you’re definitely still maturing. The difference between me and the 18 year olds in my course, and me and the 30 year olds in my course is A Lot. We’re all in the same course! But there’s a distinction in maturity and experience that should not be ignored. It’s exactly the same with lecturers. 

2. They’re in a position of power. Whether they use that or not, they have that authority. It might seem like that power doesn’t come into a relationship setting, but dating someone who even has the possibility of wielding their authority against you changes the dynamic. Relationships MUST be equal. When that person has the power to potentially threaten you with lower grades, unfair treatment in-class, and other mistreatment as a form of manipulation (it can be unsaid or very subtly threatened) it is not a good idea. Again, it would be nice to think that’s unlikely, but statistics say otherwise.

3. Again, the same point as 4. of the highschool reasons. Not exactly the same, but similar. A lecturer is more likely to be attracted to you because you aren’t 18 or younger, but they still probably feel pretty uncomfortable with a student flirting with them. My lecturers are super cool, and i want to be friends with almost all of them, and I know it would kind of jeopardise that relationship (and our rapport in lectures and discussions during class) if I was coming onto them. It would just be awkward.

4. It could be really awkward, potentially dangerous. Can you imagine dating a lecturer and then breaking up? Can you imagine even just sleeping with a lecturer and then having to face them for the rest of that year? It would be weird! It would be super awkward. There would be a lot of forced contact with someone you’re probably not that keen to talk to, and in addition that person has a direct say on your grades, your school experience - perhaps your entire future. Wouldn’t recommend that.

Hope that’s helpful, buddy!