#What IS it with me getting obsessed over characters with a small(er) fanbase

[artisticxlly]

I can feel myself growing more and more fixated on Sachirou... Someone save me omg

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 8)

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: 9.8k story words: 44k (so far) chapter: 8/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

Dan had a long, difficult day in the studio. While his producer had really liked the new song that he’d spent the past two weeks writing, he was having immense difficulty teaching the song to his guitarist and pianist.

It was partially his fault.

Growing up, Dan had been a self-taught musican. After a few awkward lessons, himself the piano, and really, he didn't have tons more formal training with the guitar. As a result, the songs he wrote on the instruments often had a bit more... character than those composed by a more classically trained musician. While Dan felt that he had gotten extremely lucky with the people the record company had paired him with, he sometimes felt that they were a bit too rigid for his rebellious nature. This song in particular had some chord pairings that Dan knew were a bit dubious, but he hoped that if everyone just trusted him, they would come together in a complementary and interesting fashion.

Dan had sat down with the musicians individually earlier in the week to teach them their pieces. Independently, both pieces were coming along well. Today, however, was the first day that Dan, the guitarist, and the pianist had started practicing together and it had been… rocky. Dan had also realized halfway through the day that he needed to start thinking about the drums for this song. He knew creating new music would be so much easier — and faster — if he was just willing to let other people have some input, to take over some aspects of of his music. But Dan was incapable of giving up creative control. He wasn’t willing to sign his name on music that he hadn’t created from start to finish, that he wasn’t completely happy with. It was the one criterion that Dan had refused to budge on when negotiating his contract: he was allowed full control over his music and would never be required to sing anything he hadn’t written himself.

By the time Dan and his team wrapped up their day at eight, Dan wasn't sure what he wanted more: a steaming cup of coffee, or a strong mixed drink. He debated between the options right up until he passed the liquor store on his way home. That’s when he realized he could have the best of both worlds: spiked coffee.

He had coffee at home, right? He was pretty sure he had a bit of beans left that morning.

Altering course slightly, Dan turned and dipped into the liquor store to pick up a bottle of Baileys. It was an alcohol he hadn't had in a long time — growing up, his parents had both really liked it, and he’d snuck it out of their liquor cabinet more than a time or two. But Isabella hated how many calories it had, so he'd slowly stopped keeping it on hand. It was a shame — Baileys made a really good nightcap.

As Dan was ringing up the Baileys, he realised he’d used his last cup of coffee beans that morning. Trying not to feel too disappointed, Dan contemplated stopping by Tesco to buy more, but was genuinely too lazy to walk the block and a half out of the way. The liquor store had been on the way, but Tesco? Dan usually just ordered groceries in.

Glancing at the time on his phone, Dan noticed that Beans and Grind was still open for another twenty minutes, and decided to just pick up a cup (or two) on his way to his flat.

He knew Phil wouldn’t be in, but he wasn’t looking for his companionship tonight. Right now, Dan was just looking for something he could pour his alcohol into.

"Hi Emmalee," Dan smiled and greeted the employee as he walked into the shop. Ever since Phil had started working at the coffee shop and Dan had started talking his ear off, Dan had tried to make more of an effort to be friendlier with the other employees there too.

Emmalee was Dan’s favorite aside from Phil, and the only other worker Dan actually saw on a regular basis.

The first few times that he’d found her during the day, not Phil, Dan had asked after him. Every time, though, she smiled and gave him this playfully smug knowing look and he found himself trying to pretend he wasn’t missing Phil.

So far, Dan had learned that Emmalee was the unofficial manager, of sorts. Her grandmother had been the one to open the coffee shop and was mostly retired, which was why Dan never saw her. Jake, the guy who smoked a lot, was probably on the verge of being fired because he had a tendency to call out of his shifts at last minute, which was something Dan had mostly overheard Emmalee complaining about to Phil.

Dan had been coming to the coffee shop so long know that he knew Phil normally worked the morning shifts, partially because no one else wanted to and partially because they fit best around his filming and BBC schedule, and Emmalee worked the night shifts. Dan was pretty happy about that, since most of his trips to Beans and Grind were in the mornings, which meant he got to spend more time with Phil. Emmalee preferred the closing shifts, mainly because she (according to Phil, at least) was a bit obsessive about counting the money and closing the register right. Jake worked... well, whenever the fuck they could get him to work, really.

Emmalee smiled at Dan when he got to the register. "What do you want tonight, Dan?"

Dan contemplated at the menu, not used to ordering anything more exciting that some amount of plain, black espresso. "Um... what usually goes best with Baileys do you think?"

Emmalee laughed. "Like the irish creme, you mean?"

"Yeah." Dan waved the brown paper bag at her. "It's been a day, okay?"

"I don't know, I don't drink much, sorry. Hang on — Phil! Come here!"

Dan's eyebrows raised in surprise.

Not only did Phil rarely work evenings, he very rarely worked at the same time as Emmalee since there were so few employees. Dan usually only saw them together when the shifts crossed over, which was rare enough as it was. True to Emmalee's words, though, Phil trotted out of the kitchen. There was a muffin half shoved in his mouth and he was trailing crumbs behind him. When he saw Dan, his eyes grew wide and his free hand reached up to brush the muffin bits away from his mouth. Dan's reaction wasn't too much more composed, really. His hand immediately rushed up to his hair, trying to arrange his mess of curls into something slightly neater after an entire day of tugging at them in frustration.

Emmalee glanced between the two of them, her eyebrows slightly raised and a smirk pulling at her lips.

In hindsight, Dan could have tried harder to convince Emmalee that he wasn’t interested in Phil.

"Phil," she said, breaking the weird tension that had built. "Dan here is wondering what coffee might go best with Baileys and, well, I figure you drink more than me, so you might know."

"Oh!" Phil nodded, waving at Dan. "Hey. Um, maybe a latte or macchiato? Since they both already have milk in them?"

"Yeah, you're right." He sounded awkward, even to his own ears. And then, against Dan's will, the question he'd been wondering since Emmalee had called for Phil tumbled out of his mouth. "Why are you working tonight?"

Jesus, why was he so socially awkward?

Phil and Emmalee both laughed, but they were different laughs. Phil's laugh was giggly and unsure, while Emmalee's sounded far too knowing and suspicious for Dan's taste.

"Just helping out with some inventory stuff for a little bit, thought I'd save Emmalee from having to do it after hours." Phil shrugged.

"Oh, that's nice." Dan shifted his brown bag from one hand to the other. "Um, I'll have a caramel macchiato then. That sounds like it'd go alright."

“I think that’s Phil’s favorite drink too. Maybe while I finish counting the register, you could make yourself and Dan one?”

Phil raised his eyebrows at her. "Er, yeah."

"You know, a treat, since you came in to help me when you aren't normally scheduled and all."

"Okay..." Phil smiled at Emmalee, but Dan could see the confusion in his eyes. With a small shrug, Phil set to work making their coffees.

Dan dropped a tenner next to the register, knowing he didn't technically have to pay for Phil's coffee since Emmalee had told him to make himself one, but feeling like it was the nice thing to do anyway, and slid down the counter to hover across from Phil at the espresso machine.

"So, Phil, how's your day been? You weren't here this morning."

“Yeah, I had a meeting with the BBC at ten, so I didn’t work here. I missed seeing you though. I know you’ve been busy at the studio and everything, but I feel like we haven’t had the chance to hang out the past couple of days.”

“I know, it doesn’t seem right that I’ve been working every time I’ve been here this week.”

"Actually, Phil —" Emmalee cut in. "Thanks again for coming in, but you can head out when you're done making the drinks if you want. I think I'm good to close up alone."

Dan’s gaze flickered over to Emmalee. There was a mischievous spark in her eyes and Dan wasn’t quite sure what she thought she was playing at.

“Are you sure you don’t need help closing up? I can mop the floors so you don’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it. Jake’s supposed to close with me tomorrow and I’ll make him do it. He deserves it.”

“Okay, um, thanks.” Phil smiled gratefully at Emmalee before turning his attention back to Dan and their drinks. “So how has life in the studio been?”

Dan shrugged, plopping his brown bag of alcohol down on the counter. “So great that I’m planning to go home and drink alone.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m kidding, mostly. It’s been good. Productive. Just long days. I’m looking forward to relaxing with a drink.”

Phil nodded like he understood what Dan was getting at. And maybe he did. He was in the entertainment business, after all, and could relate to the pressures of creating and perfecting new content.

“Drinking alone? Louise or… Isabella aren’t around to drink with you?”

“Uh,” Dan hesitated. Isabella had been a weird subject for him to talk about with Phil since she’d accused Dan of flirting with Phil on twitter and spending too much time with him. Dan just felt… shitty about the whole thing, and he hated that Isabella was making him feel shitty about making a new friend, but he’d decided to just ignore the whole thing as best as he could and hope it would go away.

It was working.

For the most part.

Well, somewhat. A little. Oh well.

“Louise is at home with Darcy and I’ve already crashed at her house a few too many times after Darcy’s bedtime this week. I feel like she might want to see her actual boyfriend at some point. I know I would if I was her.”

“What, you don’t want to see your actual girlfriend then?”

Phil’s eyes grew wide the second the words were out of his mouth, as if he was surprised that he’d actually said them. Dan couldn’t blame him really — somehow, Phil seemed to have caught on to Dan’s reluctance to discuss Izzy with him and only acknowledged that she existed when Dan mentioned her, so it was a surprise to him too that Phil had brought her up first.

“Er…” Dan spun his phone around in between his fingers. “Not tonight. I guess I just need to destress a bit? Sometimes that’s… hard, um, with some people.”

Phil’s expression was unreadable as he sat Dan’s to-go cup of coffee in front of him. “So you’re wanting to be alone tonight then?”

Dan grabbed the cup, pushing the coffee sleeve up and down anxiously. “Not exactly, I guess I just wanted some to chill with friends, but it’s a weeknight, so it’s not like I can make Addie come hang out with me.”

"I mean, Phil doesn't have anything to do tonight either," Emmalee interrupted, her voice saccharine. "I think he said he was just gonna go home and watch Netflix."

That little shit.

“Um,” Phil’s eyes darted back and forth between Emmalee and Dan. “Yeah, actually. I don’t have much going on tonight…”

Dan and Phil made eye contact, a bit more awkward than should have been the case for two guys that Dan thought were pretty good friends. A full minute went by before Emmalee broke the silence.

“Philip, since you and Dan both have coffee and nothing to do, I bet Dan would be willing to share his Baileys with you if you invited him over to keep him company.”

Her comment seemed to startle Phil into action. “Right, yeah, I mean, I wasn’t really planning on much. We could hang out at my place if you wanted? But it’s fine if you’d prefer to just go home, I know you’ve had a really long we—”

“Hanging out at your place sounds lovely, Phil,” Dan interrupted.

Before Phil could respond, Emmalee jumped in again. “Great. Well, you lads have fun then. Phil, I’ll see you soon. I’m working the morning shift tomorrow, remember, so have a good night.”

Phil made a face and kind of shrugged before setting his coffee cup down on the counter. “Give me a second, I just need to grab my coat from the back room.”

Dan fumbled with their coffee cups, trying to figure out if he wanted to say anything about what had just happened to Emmalee. Instead, he shook the brown bag and one of the coffee cups at her. “Do you mind if I…” He mimed tipping the bottle into the cup.

“Go for it. You lads have a good night.” Emmalee sent him a wink.

For a minute, Dan debated if it was worth trying to explain to her that it wasn’t like that. That him and Phil were just friends. That he had a girlfriend and really, didn’t know anything about Phil’s love life.

In the end, though, he decided it wasn’t worth the effort to explain any of that, and set about dumping their drinks into larger cups that he nicked from behind the counter, and topping the rest of the cup off with liquor. He’d just gotten the lids secured onto the larger cups when Phil popped out of the employee’s only door, all bundled up in his coat. Smiling, Dan met him halfway across the coffee shop and handed Phil his new cup.

“Ready?” Dan asked.

“Let’s go,” Phil responded, taking a sip of his drink. His eyebrows shot up and he flashed Dan a mischievous smirk. “Oh! I see you were busy while I was gone.”

Dan chuckled. “I figured I’d make use of my time. Now, how are we getting to your flat?”

“It’s a ten minute tube ride, twenty minute walk. But at this time of night they even out to the same amount of time when you consider waiting for the tube. Or we can take an uber. Up to you.”

Dan zipped his coat up the rest of the way. “Walking sounds good. Not to break my extreme-introvert image, but I haven’t been outside all day today, and I’m feeling a bit restless. We have our drinks, it’ll be fine.”

Phil quickly agreed, and motioned Dan toward the exit, holding the door open for him. Dan hovered on the pavement once outside, unsure which direction Phil lived in.

“This way,” Phil said with a nod.

Together, Dan and Phil set off down the street, heading in the opposite direction from Dan’s flat. Briefly, Dan considered suggesting they go to his place instead — it was only half a block away after all — but he quickly remembered the mess of dishes (and laundry) that were currently strewn across his flat and aborted that idea.

The first few minutes of their walk were spent in silence. A compatible, comfortable silence. Or, at least, Dan thought it was. He hoped Phil found it comfortable and not awkward, too. Dan risked a quick glance at Phil’s face to find him smiling softly, sipping at his liquor infused coffee. The expression was comforting to Dan.

As they walked to Phil’s, Dan contemplated their… friendship.

The past week or so had been a bit of a change of dynamic for them — not in a bad way. They still talked and joked around every chance they got, but Dan had also spent a couple of mornings actually doing work at Beans and Grind and they’d learned how to just… coexist. It was nice.

It was nice having someone that Dan felt like he didn’t have to try around, or fish for conversation to fill the silence.

While he had worked, Phil had kept himself busy with his own stuff, particularly when the store went dead in the mid-mornings. At one point, Phil’d edited a video, propped up on the employee’s stool behind the counter. Dan had begged him for a sneak peek at new AmazingPhil content, but it wasn’t until Dan reminded Phil that he’d sent him an unedited, shitty clip of a song that he’d only half composed that Phil relented.

Rather than showing Dan any of the proper, edited video though, Phil had queued up a few of the outtakes for Dan to watch. Phil had smiled mischievously when he’d done this, as though he was playing an evil trick on Dan. But what Phil didn’t realize was that Dan would much rather see the silly behind-the-scenes bloopers than a proper preview anyway.

Things were good between them.

Phil took a long sip of his coffee before finally speaking. “So, Daniel, how has your time in the studio been this week? Or do you not want to talk about work?”

Dan snuck a glance at Phil. He looked interested, in a different way than Louise or Isabella ever did.

Louise cared about how his days were — obviously she did, they were best friends — but when she asked him about work, there were always the I’m your manager undertones, and Dan felt a bit of pressure to make his days sounded as productive as possible. Isabella, on the other hand, didn’t really seem to care about his answer half the time. Recently, Dan had gotten the impression that she cared more and more about whether or not whatever he was doing was something public that she could potentially be a part of, than if he was enjoying whatever he was filling his days with.

But maybe he was just being oversensitive.

Whatever it was though, he decided to ignore it. He’d rather just enjoy this moment, this cold, brisk walk, this (hopefully) drunken evening with Phil.

“I’d rather not talk about it right now, honestly. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed today and would rather just… relax.”

“Relaxing sounds good, I can do that.” Phil bumped his shoulder into Dan’s lightly. “Come on, this way.”

Phil led Dan down a side street. The traffic had dissipated and the street lights were less bright here. Everything felt calmer. Dan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Maybe he really could relax tonight. Phil seemed to notice the shift in Dan’s attitude — maybe he even understood that Dan needed a few minutes of silence. Studio days were always so loud.

The rest of the walk was spent in an easy silence. Dan occupied his mind by taking in his surroundings. Every time he looked over to Phil, their gazes caught and they exchanged soft smiles.

When they got to Phil’s flat, Phil shoved his key into his lock, jostling the door until it opened.

“Sorry, it’s not very neat. I wasn’t planning on having company over today.” Phil pushed the door open, motioning for Dan to enter ahead of him. Always the perfect gentlemen.

“Don’t worry, I was going to suggest my flat because it was closer until I remembered how much of a mess it is. Trust me, yours can’t be any worse than mine.”

“Oh, thanks, let me be the one that’s humiliated then,” Phil laughed.

Inside, Dan followed Phil’s lead and kicked his shoes off by the door. Phil sat his coffee down on the entryway table; Dan started to set his down too before realizing that the table was too small to hold both cups. As a result, he was left trying to tuck his cup between his neck and shoulder, and the bottle of alcohol between his elbow and side in attempt to be able to use both hands to work at his zipper.

Phil’s hands reached out towards Dan. Dan expected Phil to take the precarious coffee cup or bottle from his grip, but instead Phil’s hands landed on Dan’s zipper.

“Hold on to your belongings, silly,” Phil said with a lopsided grin. His tongue peeked out slightly, tucked between his teeth. Dan’s hands scrambled for a more secure purchase on the drinks. Luckily, he secured them seconds before Phil’s hands grazed his neck as he grasped Dan’s zipper.

It took every ounce of self control Dan possesed for him to bite back his gasp.

His neck had always been his most sensitive area — enough so that he usually made it an off-limits zone with his partners. But Phil’s fingers brushing against it —

Jesus christ, it had been too long since Dan had gotten laid.

For better or worse, Dan functioned best with sex in his life. It was one of the things that made him happy — both physically and emotionally. But in the two weeks since his fight with Isabella, they’d only seen each other for dinner or drinks, always out at restaurants or bars.

If he’d wanted to, if he’d tried, he probably could have gone out with Isabella. If he put in the effort, treated her to whatever she wanted tonight, she’d probably have finally let him come home with her. He’d thought about it, earlier that day when she’d texted him. It had just seemed… like a lot of effort.

So instead, here he was in Phil’s flat. Isabella would probably murder him if she knew he’d ignored her text messages and come here, but. Oh well.

Phil’s hands were steady as they pulled Dan’s zipper down his front slowly. When his jacket was fully unzipped, Phil shifted his coffee to Dan’s other hand, and helped him shimmy his arm out of the sleeve. Once Dan’s arm was free, Phil passed the objects back, and worked to take his other hand out of the coat.

The entire time, Dan wasn’t sure where to look. Despite Phil’s goofy smile, his gaze was intense, and Dan found himself needing to avert his eyes. He looked downward, watching Phil’s hands dance across his upper body as he took his coat off for him.

He wasn’t used to people taking care of him like this. Not even something as simple as helping him out of his jacket.

For lack of something better to do with himself, Dan drank a long swig of his coffee while Phil first hung up Dan’s coat, then his own. He took advantage of Phil’s distracted attention by taking a few deep steadying breaths.

Why the hell had that affected him so much?

“There you go. Your coffee almost empty too?”

Phil’s question pulled Dan out of his thoughts. He shook his cup. “Yeah, just a few drops left.”

Phil nodded, unzipping his own coat. “Lounge is the first door on the right, make yourself comfortable. I’ll put a pot of coffee on for us so we can have another round?”

“Sounds great.” Dan trotted in the direction that Phil had pointed, finding his way into the lounge. Just like Phil, the room was loud and vibrant. It seemed to perfectly capture everything that Dan knew Phil loved. Beneath the tv was a complete mess of wires, all running to different gaming systems. The bookcases were overflowing with boxed collections, board games, and knick knacks.

Dan knew it was probably rude to rifle through someone else’s possessions, but, well, Phil had told him to make himself comfortable. Without questioning his actions any further, Dan sat his nearly-empty cup on the coffee table and made his way to the bookcase, wanting to get a closer look at what Phil owned.

From all the long conversations at Beans and Grind, Dan knew that he and Phil had similar interests in movies and tv, but it wasn’t until he was looking at Phil’s collection that he realized just how similar their tastes were. He’d seen almost everything that Phil owned. The one’s he hadn’t see, were on his mental to-watch list. There were only a handful of movies and shows that Phil owned that Dan had never heard of.

He turned his attention to the other objects on the bookcase. The cute knick knacks were all very Phil, a fun combination of nerdy and grown-up-child. He liked it. It was a lot different than Dan’s own monochrome aesthetic. The bookcase was also littered with pictures, some in frames, some just simple polaroids leaned up against other objects. Dan was just bending over to get a closer look at the pictures when he heard Phil enter the room behind him. Dan shot up straight, trying to look like he hadn’t been snooping.

Even though he totally had been.

If Phil cared, he didn’t show it.

“Whatcha looking at?” he asked.

“I thought I’d see if you had any really embarrassing guilty pleasures.”

Phil laughed, setting a bowl of popcorn down on the table and picking up Dan’s cup. “I know better than to keep anything I’d be embarrassed about out in my lounge. As you know, I do liveshows in here.” Phil sent him an awkward attempt at a wink. It looked silly, and in no way should a squinty, forced blink with both eyes be attractive.

But it was.

“The coffee will be ready in a minute. I made some popcorn — I wasn’t sure if you’d had dinner yet?”

“I had a late lunch. Popcorn sounds great, thanks.” Dan was acutely aware that he should probably have something more substantial than popcorn, but he didn’t want to put Phil out. He’d already crashed his evening, he didn’t need to eat his food too.

Slightly self conscious at being caught going through Phil’s belongings, Dan migrated to the couch. As soon as he was seated, he realized just how great it was to be off his feet. He always spent most of his day standing up when he was at the studio. It was harder to properly sing sitting down.

Without any consideration for what Phil’s household rules might be, Dan swung his legs onto the couch, back against the armrest, effectively taking up the full length of it. The back of the couch was soft and plush against his temple. He let his eyes drift close as he waited for Phil. He wasn’t tipsy — not yet — but he could feel the warmth of the alcohol enveloping his body, the slight blurring of the sharp edges of his mind. It was nice.

He heard Phil plod into the room, heard the thump of cups being sat on the table, but he let his eyes stay closed for another moment, relishing the moment of peace.

“Tired already, Howell?”

Dan lifted his head at Phil’s teasing tone. He had a cheeky smile on his face and was holding out a mug to Dan.

“Just relaxing,” Dan responding, taking the mug from Phil’s outstretched hand.

“Well relax in a position that lets me sit on the couch, too.” Phil nudged at Dan’s ankles.

With a needlessly dramatic huff, Dan pulled his legs in towards his body, curling them in front of himself so that Phil had room to sit. Phil sat down almost in the middle of the couch, just inches away from Dan’s toes. He was tempted to kick his foot out and poke Phil in the thigh, but fought the urge. Instead, he brought the mug up to his lips and tested the temperature of the drink with the tip of his tongue.

Dan perked up, taking a full taste of the drink in curiosity. “What’s this, Philip?”

Phil chuckled, taking a drink from his own mug. “I had some whiskey on hand so I added a splash. Seemed like the right thing to do.”

“You’re a good lad. Cheers,” Dan raised his cup up, clinking it against Phil’s.

“So, do you always make yourself so comfortable in people’s homes the first time you visit?”

A warm heat spread up through Dan’s cheeks. “What do you mean?”

Phil nodded back to his bookcase and then motioned towards Dan on the couch. “First I catch you going through my stuff, and now you’re curled up on my couch like it’s yours. What if I was against feet on the couch, hmm?”

For a split second, Dan panicked and thought Phil was serious — that he was actually annoyed that Dan was looking at his things, that it was actually not okay for him to be in this casual of a position on Phil’s couch. But Phil’s tone was light, his mouth pulled into a wide smile, and his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Fuck off, you spoon. I didn’t realize I was being awkward, okay?” Dan teased back, taking another long drink from his mug. Despite being crappier, store bought coffee, this drink was better — stronger. The combination of Baileys and whiskey was delicious, electrifying his body and soothing his mind.

“So what? Did you find anything interesting?” Phil cocked an eyebrow.

“Actually,” Dan said, intentionally taunting, “I know you said you kept the embarrassing stuff out of site, but I couldn’t help but noticing you owned The Notebook. Care to explain, Philip?”

Phil sputtered, swallowing just in time to not dribble coffee out of his mouth. “Look, sometimes you just need a good cry, okay? I’m sure you own something just as bad. Come on, Howell, what’s the worst thing on your bookshelf?”

Dan narrowed his eyes, stalling by taking another drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lester.”

Phil held his gaze of the brim of his cup. “Bullshit, Howell. Tell me.”

Dan tucked his mug between his knees, letting his legs slip further across the couch a bit until his toes made contact with Phil’s leg. “Look, I would like to say in my defense that some movies are automatically less shit when they have pretty people in them, okay?”

“Oh my god,” Phil’s hand reached out and shook Dan’s knee. “What it is? What do you own?”

“Um,” Dan swirled the contents of his cup. “All of the High School Musical movies.”

Phil’s hand tightened on his knee, accidentally tickling Dan and causing him to let out a high-pitched squeal. Dan batted at Phil’s hand on impulse, but was disappointed when his movement made Phil withdraw his hand from Dan’s knee entirely.

Shit.

Was he tipsy?

Phil’s hand fell onto the sofa, brushing close to the underside of Dan’s ankle. It wasn’t the same as his knee, but it was still a soft and gentle touch. Reassuring. Warm.

Relaxing.

“All of them? Really? They were all babies when those movies were filmed!”

“So was I!” Dan batted at Phil’s shoulder indignantly.

“Oh, did little Dan have a crush? There are a lot of pretty faces to gawk at there. Who was cute baby Dan into?”

Dan downed the rest of his drink. “Leave cute baby Dan’s sexual awakening alone, okay?”

Without warning, Dan swung his feet off the couch, accidentally slightly kicking Phil in the process. He stood up abruptly and could feel the alcohol making him slightly unsteady on his feet. That didn’t stop him from holding his hand out towards Phil.

“Finish your drink. I’ll refill us, yeah?”

Obediently, Phil chugged the remaining few swallows from his cup, handing his mug over to Dan. Dan took the cup, turning on his heel and leaving the room to find Phil’s kitchen on his own.

“Add a spoonful of sugar to mine!” Phil yelled from the lounge.

“OKAY!” Dan yelled back.

On the walk to Phil’s, Dan had briefly feared that their friendship, their easy banter, their common interests might not hold up outside the confines of Beans and Grind, but five minutes on Phil’s couch proved that to be a foolish worry. Everything about being with Phil, about being in his space was easy. The only person he’d ever felt a similar kind of efortlessness with before was Louise — but the atmosphere was different with Phil. Dan didn’t want to focus too much on how it was different. He wasn’t allowed to think about that.

He found his way to the kitchen and poured more coffee into each of their mugs. He wasn’t sure what the ratio of booze to coffee Phil had used earlier was, so he filled the mugs half full, leaving the rest of the room free for alcohol. Glancing around, Dan looked for a shot glass, but gave up almost immediately. Instead, he split the remaining half of the glass between the Baileys and the Jameson, which Phil had fortunately left on the counter. Tentatively, Dan brought one of the mugs to his lips to taste the concoction.

Holy fuck that was strong.

Somewhat desperately, Dan dumped a bit more than a spoonful of sugar into each of their drinks, hoping to disguise the potent taste of the whiskey.

It’s fine. Whatever.

Dan was looking to let loose tonight anyways.

Dan teetered back into the living room, thrusting Phil’s mug at him with a bit more momentum than strictly necessary. Hesitantly, Dan stared at the couch for a moment before shoving his mug in Phil’s direction, too, hoping he’d catch on. Luckily, he did. Phil reached out and grasped Dan’s mug, holding it high in the air so Dan could settle into the couch.

With absolutely no grace, Dan collapsed onto the sofa, letting his back rest against the armrest like he was earlier. For a split second, he mentally debated what to do about his legs, but let them swing up, resting in Phil’s lap before he could overthink it.

If Phil was caught off guard by his actions, his face didn’t show it. He waited until Dan was situated before handing back his drink.

Dan reached out and grasped his mug, his fingers briefly overlapping with Phil’s. Again, Phil didn’t react to their contact, but his hand fell from the handle of Dan’s mug to his ankle. His ankle that was spread all the way across Phil’s lap.

Was this okay?

Maybe. Maybe not.

At this point, Dan wasn’t sure where the lines fell.

Well, maybe he had an idea where lines were supposed to fall.

The scary part was, he wasn’t sure how much he cared.

Instead, Dan let his upper body fall forward slightly. Not completely into Phil’s space — not touching his shoulder or anything — but a little bit. Dan was crouched forward, leaning away from the armrest, his head only a few inches from Phil’s shoulder. Without anything better to do, Dan took a long sip from his mug.

“How about you? How’s your week been?” Dan poked his chin at Phil’s shoulder. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you the past couple of days.”

Phil cocked his head slightly. “You were in the coffeeshop for an hour and a half yesterday,” he said over the brim of his cup before he took another drink.

“I know,” Dan whined. “But you were working and I was trying to fucking finalize the details of my trip to Germany. Tell me how you’ve been.”

Phil chuckled, his arm coming up to rest across the length of his couch as he drank more of his coffee. The tips of his fingers grazed Dan’s shoulder. Despite being hyper aware of the sensation, Dan pretended not to notice. He shoved his mug into his face and took a long drink to cover up the shock that the touch had sent up his spine.

“I’ve been fine. I filmed two collabs this week, which means I’m set with uploading for a while.”

Dan slipped his chin off Phil’s shoulder blade, letting his temple rest on the boney limb instead, allowing himself to take another drink. “Who did you collab with?”

“My friend PJ and his girlfriend. They live down in Brighton but they came to visit for a few days. I filmed a video with each of them for my channel and a video with PJ for his.”

“That’s nice. How long have you known PJ?”

“God,” Phil’s head tipped backwards, and Dan was graced with a perfect view of the long, pale expanse of his neck. ”I think since I was… eighteen, maybe? We met during the first days of youtube and have been best friends ever since.”

“That’s amazing, that youtube brought you good friends.” Unwittingly, Dan’s eyes fell from Phil’s eyes further down his face, landing on his lips. He let himself hover there for a moment before tearing his eyes away, looking everywhere, anywhere, but there.

Fuck.

He could definitely feel the alcohol loosening his bones, his mind, his inhibitions at this point.

He knew he should care. He knew he should straighten up, brush Phil’s fingertips away from his shoulder, put some proper distance between them.

Instead, he looked for a reason for them to fall closer together.

His eyes fell on the fancy looking camera on the coffee table in front of him. He lunged forward, sweeping it off the table and falling back onto the couch, his shoulder tucking into the crook of Phil’s arm.

Inspecting the camera, Dan asked, “so is this it? Is this how the magic happens?”

“You make it sound gross when you say it that way, but, yes, that’s what I film with.”

Dan punched a few buttons, trying to figure out how to power it up. The screen lit up after four or five random jabs. Clumsily, Dan held it out in front of them, trying to take a selfie. The camera was heavier than he’d anticipated, though, and he was fairly certain that he ended up taking a picture of their laps, not their faces.

With a high pitched laugh, Phil grabbed the camera from Dan’s hands, using his free hand to pull Dan closer into his side. “If you want a picture, Dan, you just have to ask. Not take a picture of our crotches.”

Against his will, Dan’s cheeks blushed pink. “Shut up. I tried my best, okay?”

Phil laughed again. “Yeah, and this is why I’m the one that works with cameras and you’re the one that works with music.”

Dan poked Phil in the side of his ribs. “Come on, teach me me how it works then.”

The camera made a few clicking noises as Phil played with the buttons. “Here, I put it on auto mode, so really all you have to do is aim and —” Phil placed Dan’s hands on the camera properly, wrapping his large hand over Dan’s fingers. Together, Phil made their fingers press the shutter, camera aimed nowhere in particular.

Click.

The picture flashed up on his screen. It was their laps again, but it wasn’t the awkward shot of their folded hips that Dan had likely accidentally taken earlier.

It looked more intentional, even though Phil hadn’t put any effort into the camera angle. Dan’s legs had shifted so that now it was his thighs that were splayed across Phil’s. In the corner of the picture, Dan could see the soft curve of his lower torso leaning in towards Phil. It was a nice picture. Gentle.

Relaxed.

“Come here, then,” Dan urged Phil, even though they were plenty close already. “Let’s take a proper photo.” Phil’s arm returned to the back of the couch, his hand landing on Dan’s back. Like earlier, he pulled Dan in close. Now, Dan’s side was nearly flush with Phil’s front.

Smiling, Dan smushed his cheek against Phil’s and held the camera out in front of him.

Click.

He brought the camera back down, turning it so they could both see the picture.

It was cute.

They were close. So close. Their smiles were wide, pulling at the corners of their mouths. Dan’s dimple was out, a deep canyon in his cheek.

It had been awhile since he’d seen it so prominently.

Contently, Dan relaxed further into Phil, letting his chin drop back onto Phil’s bony shoulder. He studied the picture.

“It’s good. You should send it to me.” Dan murmured.

“I will, I’ll upload it later.”

“To twitter?” Dan asked.

“No silly, to the computer. I’m not sure if you want… that on twitter, yeah?”

In the picture, Dan’s legs were clearly draped across Phil, their bodies noticeably as close as possible.

“I guess. I like it though. We look… happy.”

“We do,” Phil agreed, his voice soft. Phil’s hand traced up and down Dan’s spine, so lightly that Dan wondered if he was imagining it. “Are you?”

“Happy?” Dan hummed, chewing over the word. “Yeah. I’m glad we’re actually hanging out. You know, for real.”

“Me too,” A small smile graced Phil’s lips. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

For a moment, Phil didn’t speak and Dan didn’t elaborate. Instead, Dan let his head slip so his forehead laid on Phil’s shoulder, sinking further into his body.

“Well?” Phil prompted eventually.

Dan sighed.

“In some ways.”

“Hmm.” Phil’s fingers were on his back again. Gentle. Affectionate. “How so?”

“This week has been okay. The first few days of working on a song with the whole team are always the hardest. I think I probably annoy everyone with my control freak tendencies, but, I don’t know.”

“I’m sure you don’t. It’s nice — that you’re so passionate about what you do.”

“I suppose. Sometimes I feel like I’m a burden for the record company. I’m like this weird eccentric musician who comes in after weeks of disappearing and freaks out if anyone tries to mess with their music and won’t let anyone change anything. And god tomorrow I have to sit down with the drummer to talk about what I want for the song. And I just — it’s always my least favorite part because it’s the only instrument I don’t know well enough to just do what I want and show him, so it’s just hours of no, faster, no, slower, now louder and it’s infuriating. For all of us.”

Phil was quiet for a moment, seeming to actually contemplate what Dan had said. That was nice — Louise was usually quick to try to resolve his work complaints. Do you want me to speak with the company? Are they putting too much pressure on you to do what they want? Are you sure the drummer is a good fit? And Isabella — well, he rarely talked for this long about himself with Isabella and held her attention.

“I’m sure you’re not a burden. The company — they signed you, yeah? They let you negotiate a contract that gave you complete creative freedom? So sure, maybe things don’t happen the way they are used to them happening, maybe not as fast or exactly their way, but you’ve got such a great track record of creating amazing, unique music and I’m sure whatever you’re working on won’t be an exception.”

Dan’s fingers played with the hole in his jeans. “I’ll feel better about it when everyone knows their piece at least. Then we can play it together for real and — well, I can prove that I’ve done something worthwhile this month.”

Sometime during Dan’s speech, the camera screen had turned dark. He tapped at it and the screen jumped back to life, their faces smiling up brightly at Dan again.

“How about outside of work?” Phil asked, drawing Dan back to the present. He wanted to live inside the fairy tale of the picture.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you happy, outside of work?”

Dan’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. He ignored it.

“In some ways.”

Beneath his cheek, Dan could feel Phil huff a small laugh. “Is that just your stock answer?”

“Well, it’s true.”

Phil hummed. “Maybe I’m asking the wrong question then. What’s making you not happy?”

“I don’t know.” The words were out of Dan’s mouth immediately, a quick defense. The truth was, Dan had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what the problem in his life was.

“I doubt that,” Phil whispered knowingly.

“How do you know me so well, Phil Lester?”

“That’s beside the point, Dan Howell. Now, what’s making you not happy?”

Dan’s fingers started picking at the fabric of his jeans. He felt his phone vibrate again. “Do I have to say it?” His voice was small, pleading.

Phil was quiet a long moment. “I guess not.”

Dan looked up, wanting to thank Phil for listening, for letting him talk, for letting him not talk.

Phil’s face — it was right there. His eyes were tender, his hair pushed up off his forehead.

Dan could imagine leaning in. He could imagine closing the distance between them, pressing his own chapped lips against Phil’s soft looking ones. He could imagine what Phil might be like to kiss — he would probably be just as slow and patient of a kisser as he was a person. Dan could imagine other things, too. He could imagine spending more nights like this, maybe even on his own couch. He could imagine finding the courage to get here, to exist in this moment without the aid of alcohol.

But he coudn’t.

He couldn’t let himself give into those imaginations.

His love life — it was in shambles. He knew it. Louise had pointed it out enough, and he’d finally felt just how much of a wreck it was. But still.

The only way it could get worse was if he leaned in and pressed his lips to Phil’s.

Instead, he reached his hand out, carding it through Phil’s hair. It wasn’t the touch he was craving in that moment, but it was a touch all the same.

“I like your hair like this, brushed up off your face. You should do it more often.” Dan suggested quietly, fiddling with the soft black hair, sweeping further up and back.

“Yeah?” Phil’s voice was as hushed as Dan’s, not breaking the maudlin mood. “I’ve been thinking about it, giving in to the quiff.”

“You should. Not that you don’t look cute with the fringe. But, with your hair pulled back like this — it brings out your eyes. You look more… mature. In a good way.”

“Maybe I will,” Phil agreed. Dan’s phone went off again, the vibration a loud contrast to how quiet it had become between them. Phil’s eyes flickered down to Dan’s arse, where his phone was tucked, and back up to Dan, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you going to get that?”

“Not right now,” Dan replied, resting his head back on Phil’s shoulder. Dan’s hand fell from Phil’s hair, landing in his lap.

Whoever was texting him, wanting him, needing him — they could wait. He wanted a bit more of this moment.

Louise was right about a lot of things. She was right when she’d told him he shouldn’t go to law school and should give music a shot. She was right when she’d told him that he’d never be happy singing songs that someone else had written and he needed to do it himself. She was right when she’d told him that he’d needed to quit working shitty jobs and focus on what made him happy.

And she was right now.

She was right that intimacy felt better with someone… good. She was right, because just sitting here, relaxing in Phil’s armsl was better, more satisfying than anything — even sex — was with Isabella.

Dan felt like he was standing at the end of a long, narrow, one way street and he didn’t really know how he’d got there. He knew it was the wrong street, he could even imagine the street he wanted to be on.

He just didn’t know how to leave.

The buzzing in Dan’s pocket returned, pulsing in the steady rhythm of a phone call. Reluctantly, he leaned forward a bit, forcing himself to dig it out of the tight pocket of his jeans.

“Sorry, hang on, jesus,” Dan said, answering the phone call without processing who was ringing.

“There you are Danny!” Isabella’s shrill voice was dripping with forced niceness.

“Izzy — hi,” Dan stammered.

The calm, warm atmosphere that had settled in the room snapped.

Fuck.

“I’m at Nitro and I was hoping you could come meet me, babe.”

Dan’s eyes flickered up to meet Phil’s. They were both a little tipsy — well, okay maybe Dan was more than a little tipsy — but everything about this moment had been perfect. He wasn’t keen to give it up to go to a club. This night, this easy evening in with Phil, was exactly what he needed after two weeks of long days in the studio.

“Thanks for asking, but not tonight.”

“Why not, Danny?” Izzy whined.

“I’m just tired from work, that’s all.” Dan stared down at his drink, not wanting to meet Phil’s eyes. It wasn’t a lie per say — he was tired from work. It just wasn’t so much a physical tired as an emotional tired. And, well, recently he’d started realizing how much emotional energy being around Isabella took sometimes.

“That’s the third time this week that you’ve blown me off! I can’t —”

“I didn’t blow you off, we didn’t have plans!”

“I am your girlfriend, Danny, you’re supposed to do things with me!”

“We’ve gone to dinner twice this this week already.” Dan could sense where this was going — exactly where half of their conversations since their blow up had gone — another fight. “Can you hang on a sec, Iz?” He didn’t wait for her to respond before pulling the phone away and muttering to Phil, “I’ll be right back, sorry.”

He clambered off of Phil and stepped out of the lounge, toward the kitchen where he’d gotten the drinks earlier in the evening. When he put the phone back to his ear, Isabella was on the edge of screaming.

“Wait, are you seriously telling me you’re out somewhere right now? You’re awake enough to be doing something with someone else but you won’t come meet me at Nitro?”

Dan let his head thump into the wall of Phil’s hallway. Fuck, he should have been more careful and not let her overhear what he’d said to Phil.

“I’m just having a lazy night in, okay, Izzy? I’m really not in the mood to go out tonight.”

“Danny,” Isabella shrieked, “you’re a famous musician, it’s basically part of your job to be seen out at night, being a part of the music scene. Just like it’s part of my job, as a model, to be seen out at clubs. So whatever the fuck you’re doing, you can do it later.”

“NO!” Dan was startled by the ferocity of his own voice. “I’m not coming out tonight, okay?”

“Where are you, Danny?”

“What?” Dan asked, perplexed.

“I asked where you are. Where are you that you can’t come here, pendejo?

“I’m, um… at…” Dan debated whether or not he should lie.

Apparently his hesitation was enough to make Isabella suspicious.

“Daniel James Howell, where are you?” Her voice was venomous.

“I’m not doing anything, I swear.” He tried his best to articulate his words perfectly, to sound as innocent as possible. But he was just sober enough to realize that even over the phone, even when he was trying, he still probably sounded drunk. “I’m just at Phil’s. It’s fine.”

“Phil’s! You’re at Phil’s? I thought I told you that you need to spend less time with that carajo!”

“He’s not a dick, Isabella! Can you leave him out of this?” His words were definitely slurring now. “Look, I’m not coming out tonight, okay?”

Isabella huffed. Dan could tell she had more to say — there was a full Isabella de la Renta rant brewing. But when she spoke next, the rage had surprisingly dissipated.

“Fine, Danny. If you aren’t going to come out tonight, then the least you can do is talk to the bouncer so he’ll let me into Nitro.”

What?

Dan was shocked. Was that why she was so adamant about him coming out tonight? She wanted to use his name to get into a fucking club?

Dan took a deep breath in and out. He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of that. For the moment, though, all he wanted was to stop this… small argument from turning into a heated fight.

“Fine, Izzy. If that’s what will make you happy. Just had the phone over.”

Isabella didn’t respond.

“Who is this?” A gruff voice barked at Dan.

“Hi, um, this is Dan — Daniel Howell? The musician? I think my girlfriend is there and, well, I can’t make it tonight, but um, do you think you could let her in?”

“Huh,” the bouncer grunted. “Manager says I’m not supposed to let people not on the list in. At least, not if the aren’t famous on their own.”

Dan sighed. Undoubtedly Isabella heard that, and it was only pissing her off more. “Look, you may not know her very well, but she is, um, famous. She’s a model? I’m sure if you let her in she’ll be happy to post a picture on instagram or something.”

The bouncer laughed without any real humor. “I don't think that’s good enough.” The man seemed to recognize the power he had in this situation. Isabella must be giving him disgusted looks.

Dan rolled around so his back was to the wall, and slid down onto his bum. “What will be good enough?”

“You can post a picture online from here. This weekend. And you’d better look like you’re having fun, too.”

“Fine! Fine. Sure, I’ll be there Friday night, okay? You can put me on the list. Now can you please just let my girlfriend in?”

The bouncer didn’t respond to him, but he heard a faint you’re in, sweetcheeks.

Dan’s head fell forward between his knees. When did things get this fucked up?

Spending time with Phil was easy. Particularly with new people, Dan always felt like he was fending off questions about his job or his music or what it was like being famous. He’d gotten accustomed to having to dance around details of upcoming music releases. He’d developed stock answers for questions about being famous that were mostly honest but didn’t make him seem like an ungrateful ass (Being famous has its drawbacks, but I’m so lucky to be able to make the music I want to for a living. Or, alternatively, my fans are all so amazing and they make all the hard work worth it. I couldn’t do it without them.).

But Phil. Phil never asked which famous people he knew, or if he had any hot parties on the horizon. He never tried to get Dan to give him a private performance or write a song for him, just with my name, please? Phil didn’t hint that he wanted to meet his famous friends or fish for an invitation to events. Phil never slipped Dan a homemade cd and begged him to ask his record label to listen to it.

Instead, Phil asked about what he liked to do in his free time (scroll through tumblr on his couch) and how he found inspiration for his music (currently, there wasn’t as much as Dan wanted there to be). Phil bonded with him over Studio Ghibli and anime. Phil traded tv and music recommendations and always insisted on fully discussing their impressions the next time Dan came for coffee.

Talking to Phil was different than talking to Louise. Dan had been best friends with Louise as long as he could remember. She could tell within five seconds if Dan was having a bad day and could see through every lie he’d ever tried to tell her. But also, Louise wouldn’t geek out with him over the newest video game or episode of a show. And since she’d become his manager, they actually had to have conversations (and sometimes disagreements) about work. Louise would always be Dan’s best friend, but something about Phil made Dan hope that he could be that close with another person.

Even though Phil encouraged Dan to bring Louise by the coffee shop, Dan hesitated. Phil wanted to meet her because he thought she sounded hilarious from the stories Dan had told him about their shenanigans. Dan knew the two of them would get along great. Louise would adore Phil’s random knowledge about animals and Phil would love Louise’s blunt and humorous personality. But still, Dan never invited her. Right now, time with Phil was like time spent in a whole separate world — and Dan wasn’t sure he was ready to give that up yet. He knew that Phil would inevitably learn infinitely new, embarrassing stories about him when he met Louise, and he knew that when Louise met Phil —

Well, he’d rather not think about how Louise would react to their fast, close friendship. She’d rarely been wrong about his relationships with other people, and now wasn’t really a moment he could afford for her to be right.

So, instead, Dan just kept going to the coffee shop for his caffeine fix. He started waking up earlier on Saturdays so he could see Phil before his shift ended. He started coming a bit later on Mondays because Phil tended to come in later on those days because he had morning meetings at the BBC. Catching up with Phil, whether it was for five minutes or two hours, was always the highlight of Dan’s day. So he ignored Louise’s teasing and Isabella’s annoyed complaints and spent enough money and time at Beans and Grind that the owner should build him a statue.

a/n: apparently my chapters just keep getting longer and longer oops

i love @auroraphilealis with everything in my heart. she completely put her evening on hold because i really really wanted to upload tonight but was in a weird mindset and literally just followed behind me on my google doc and encouraged me and helped me stay on track.

she's the best writing buddy and friend that a girl could ask for <3

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