#and i just don’t think you can live with two nonces and not realise…

[secretagentsagainstwhatever]

i always believe the victims first and foremost and i won’t continue to watch/support someone if they’ve ever assaulted or harassed anyone let alone a minor, but i gotta say with all the Dan ranty & Lewis Buchan things coming out i will genuinely be so pissed if anything comes out about Cam Kirkham , because i have supported him so vehemently for so long

[talesofstyles]

Mates

Hello! What have we got here? A best friend!H. Does it have smut? Yes ma’am. Have I ever written smut before? Absolutely not. Do I want to run and hide in the darkest deepest part of the earth after writing this? YES. 

Bless @waitingfortwilight (+for proofreading it!) and @all-things-fic because they’re most likely sick of hearing me talking about this in our group chat for the past few weeks, but hey it’s done now ;) also to @harrysdimplles for being excited with me!

Hope you like it and tell me what you think! xx

It was around six thirty in the morning when Harry woke up. He is one of the ten percent of the global population who are morning larks. He absolutely loves waking up early in the morning and almost never stays in bed past eight.

Meanwhile, you are the complete opposite. You are truly, definitely, utterly, completely, absolutely not a morning person. You hate waking up in the morning. You always set your alarm ten minutes before the actual time you need to get up so that you’ve got time to be pissed in bed because you have to wake up. Poor Harry made the mistake of waking you up early in the morning, thinking you’d join him for a morning run a week after both of you had settled into your new shared flat, and boy did he regret that decision. You’d given him a right bollocking, and sulked around like a stroppy child for the rest of the day.

You were never a morning person, so that was why Harry was confused when he heard sounds coming from the kitchen as he walked through to make himself a cup of coffee. He was looking down, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes as he entered the kitchen, so he didn’t realise the tall figure stirring coffee in the mug next to him wasn’t you.

“Morning mate,” greeted the man before he took a sip of his coffee.

Harry mumbled in response before it was cut with a yawn. “Mor- whoa,” he raised his palm to make a stop sign, and continued after he finished yawning. “You don’t live here.”

“Uh,” awkward silence filled the kitchen. “I don’t.”

“What are you doing here?” He knew it was a stupid question, but that somehow didn’t stop him from asking.

“Er, uh,” the guy looked down at his mug for a second before he answered. “Visiting.”

“Visiting what? My roommate’s uterus?”

The guy took a big gulp of his coffee and sat the mug down in the sink. “Uh, I’ll get going. Nice seeing you again, Harry.”

“Alright, bye bye now,” Harry said as the other guy disappeared from the kitchen, before muttering, “what a nonce,” under his breath.

Harry wasn’t usually mean. He was all about treating people with kindness, but apparently the motto didn’t apply to his roommate’s exes. It had nearly been a month since you broke up with Jamie.

Boy, was he fit. He’s still fit. He’s so fit. Legit ten out of ten. Was that the reason you keep getting back together even though you knew for sure that the relationship was toxic? Probably. But hey, you were a young woman in your early twenties; as young as a spring chicken, still naïve—and shallow, apparently—so nobody can blame you.

Jamie was your first serious boyfriend, because no—we are not going to count that nerdy bloke with glasses who used to do your maths homework in year 6. You were together on and off for four years, but you decided that enough was enough. It was your decision to end things in the first place, but that didn’t mean that you were okay with it. You did it because you knew it was the right thing to do—but deep down you knew you didn’t want it to end. Because controlling and guilt-inducing aside, Jamie was a nice bloke. He’s got a great sense of humour (unlike your darling roommate whose jokes tend to give you physical pain), and good Lord those lips always seem to know what you want to hear every single time. He’s romantic; such a good cook, and goodness gracious glory you, those abs. That face. Those green eyes that twinkle every time he talks about something that he is passionate about. He was a dream. But again, you knew ending it was the right thing to do.

You’d barely left your flat during the first week after your break up. You were so miserable, and Harry tried everything he could to cheer you up, but he didn’t have a lot of experience in helping girls get through a break up. All he knew about break ups was the fact that there were three phases (thank you Chandler) - phase one: sweatpants, phase two: getting drunk and going to a strip club, and phase three: picturing themselves with other people. He did offer to accompany you to a strip club incase you wanted to, but you threw one of the pillows on the couch at him for suggesting such a thing. So he just let you be. He threw away your healthy—re: shit—ice cream and swapped it with Ben and Jerry’s because he knew that you like to eat ice cream whilst watching Sleepless In Seattle or You’ve Got Mail, or basically any rom-coms that you decided to watch that night. He did the washing up for seven days in a row without moaning, and he even did some of your laundry too. He didn’t press you to talk it out, but he made sure that you knew that he was there for you.

You were so much better during the second week. In fact, you were too much better. Harry was surprised that it only took you a week to get over a four year relationship, but he was pleased to have his happy, bubbly roommate back. He was a little suspicious, but he brushed it off. He thought maybe you didn’t really love Jamie and that was why you were quick to get back on your feet. Or maybe you just had the emotional equivalent of a scavenging sewer rat. He’d never know.

Third week? You were back to square one.

“Well, well, well, look who’s up,” Harry greeted you as you appeared in the kitchen whilst he was beating the eggs and watching Gordon Ramsay as he did the same thing on his iPad. “Morning, love. Late night, eh? Y/N and Jamie sitting in a tree, K I S S I N G~”

“Morning,” you answered plainly. It was way too early for you to be arsed about his teasing remarks.

“So,” He paused as he added some crème fraiche into the pan. “Are you gonna tell me what happened last night? How that happened? You two getting back together?”

You sighed as you made your way to the counter where your nespresso machine sat. You put a capsule into the machine and turned it on because you needed some caffeine in your system before you could talk about it. Although you had a feeling by looking at Harry’s smirk that you were going to need a much stronger drink.

“Nah,” you replied and let out a yawn before you continued. “Was just a booty call.”

“A booty call?” Harry looked up from the pan at you. “Are you cool enough?”

“I am cool. The coolest I’ve ever been. In fact, I’m so cool that I’m gonna text him again for another booty call tonight. And maybe this time we can go out and have a booty breakfast.”

“You, my friend, are the furthest thing from cool. As the President of the casual sex society, local chapter—I call bull on your booty.”

“What?” You frowned. “It’s just a booty call.”

“Not with you it isn’t. You think that booty breakfast will maybe lead to a booty dinner, then maybe booty engaged and booty married, and have a couple booty kids and a booty retirement home, and then booty die together.”

“That isn’t true!” You protested.

“Yes it is! You know it is.” He went on. “You two keep going on and off you’re like Rihanna and Chris Brown, minus the punching and the duet.” Harry insisted as he put the eggs on two plates for both of you. “You were already doing so good last week, don’t go back there again.”

“Well, girls gotta eat!” you grumbled like a three year old whose candy had just been taken away, and Harry let out a chuckle.

“Go eat!” he stressed. “But don’t eat at the same restaurant.”

You huffed. “I don’t do one night stands.”

“So don’t stand. Lay down.” He grinned as he caught the cherry tomato that you threw at him in response. “Seriously, love, you need to get over him. He was a bellend.”

“You’re a bellend.”

“Oi! I was just trying to help!” this time he scrunched up a kitchen towel and threw it your way. “Listen, we’re going out tonight, yeah? S’gonna be fun.”

“I don’t feel like going out.”

“Alright, then. But remember, you can’t call Jamie again. I know it’s really not my business but you’re my best friend and I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

“I won’t.” You reassured him.

Harry reached out his pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”

“Oh my God, what are you? Five?” You took a sip of your coffee before you gave in and reached out yours. “Fine, promise. Happy now?”

***

“Harry!”

He sighed at hearing his name being yelled again for the third time. You had been quite short with him somehow even though he did nothing wrong. You weren’t usually like that and he knew it was just because you were upset, so he gave you a dick pass.

“What?” Harry asked you as he stood up from the couch to find you. “What did I do now?”

“I just changed the toilet roll three days ago and it’s already gone! How dirty is your arse?!” You grumbled.

Harry looked at you in disbelief. “For fucks sake woman it’s three quid for nine bleeding rolls!”

“Aye! Sorry didn’t know we’re a Tory household now, splashing money around like we won the lottery.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “Alright that’s it. Let’s get you out of the house. You’re mean at home.”

“Hey!” You swat his arm in response to his remark. Then he ended up showing off the arm that you hit playfully and pointed at it to prove his point.

“See?! Come on, let’s go get changed. Spit spot. Move along now. You can go and get ready now voluntarily or I’ll just drag you out by force in your two days old pyjamas. The choice is yours.” He shrugged and opened his palms.

You huffed but you did what he told you to do anyway, because maybe he was right—you needed the change of scenery. You wanted to just get back in bed since it was Saturday and took a three hour nap, but you knew that pest of a roommate of yours wouldn’t let you, and you knew that what he said wasn’t an empty threat. So, you went to take a quick shower and get ready.

“Seriously, where are we going?” You asked Harry as you waited for him to start his orange Vespa scooter.

“Ah ah ah,” Harry shook his head. “What did I say before? No questions, just put your helmet on.”

“Are you gonna kidnap me?”

“We live together!”

“Yeah, but who knows? Maybe you’re after my kidney.”

“Oh my God woman just shush, put your helmet on and hop on so we can get going, yeah? S’gonna be fun, promise. No kidney stealing or some other dodgy stuff.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle for the first time in a while, and Harry grinned. “See? You’re better outside.”

After putting the helmet on, you hopped onto the scooter and you held his waist. But then you felt his hands reaching for your arms to wrap it around his tummy and rest it on his belly button, making you sit closer to him. Your front was nearly glued to his back, which you were sure they would be in a second when you hit the road because the slightest bump would shift you forward.

You weren’t sure what it was. You weren’t sure why you were feeling a little flustered being that close to Harry. For a second you thought maybe it was just because you had broken up recently and your emotions were out of whack. That wasn’t the closest you’d ever been with Harry. You were both—still are—massive cuddlers, so it wasn’t rare for you two to sit on the couch cuddling as you watched whatever it was on the telly. You tried to brush it off. Besides, Harry was fit—still is and forever will be—so you told yourself it’s normal and that you don’t need to fret about it.

After a million bumps and sudden brakes, you both arrived in Camden. You thought Harry was going to take you to the market, but he surprised you by stopping the scooter in front of a grey building.

“Alright, get down and wait for me here, I’ll be back in a tick, just gonna park there.” He said, and you hopped down immediately, handing him your helmet afterwards.

He was back with you shortly with a huge grin plastered across his face. “Ready t’av some fun?”

“Oh!” you exclaimed. “Is it one of those escape room thing? Oh my God Harry, we are both dumb—we’ll never get out!”

Harry protested. “Hey!”

You burst into laughter when you saw the look on his face. Neither of you had ever been to an escape room before, so you didn’t know what to expect. But you couldn’t deny that you were quite excited, although never in a million years would you admit that to Harry’s face.

It turned out that you were required to book the room beforehand, and obviously you hadn’t since it was pretty spontaneous. Fortunately, there was one room left available right away.

“We only have the Zen Room available for now, would that be alright with you?” The receptionist kindly offered you.

“Oh, what is it about?” Harry asked her.

“Basically your mission is to help an orphaned Japanese girl retrieve her priceless family heirlooms. Are you familiar with Asian culture? Also it’s not a requirement but if you can speak Japanese that would make it so much easier.” She explained.

“Well, I know a bit about the culture, yeah,” Harry nodded.

You lifted your eyebrow as you looked at him. “What do you know?”

“Well, I went to BLACKPINK concert once.” He gave a lopsided grin and the receptionist had a little chuckle.

“Oh my God.” You facepalmed. “We’re never getting out aren’t we?”

Harry insisted that it was going to be just fine and that it was going to be fun so you agreed to do it. The receptionist gave you a quick briefing before walking you to the end of the hall where the Zen Room was.

“There’s a screen inside and I will give you clues from time to time. Have fun!” she said as she opened the door for both of you. You thanked her and as soon as the door was closed, the light turned on and you scanned the room around you.

The room wasn’t big, but there was something like a sliding door that you were sure that would open at some point and there’s got to be another room behind that.

“Oh bollocks! Everything is in Japanese, I can’t read anything.” You grumbled as you began looking around for clues.

Harry mumbled nonchalantly. “I can speak Japanese.”

“What?! I didn’t know that.” You replied. Feeling a little relieved and for the first time you thought maybe you two were going to nail it.

He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “You never asked.”

“Alright, say something.” You requested, curious about what would he sound like speaking in foreign language. He was shit in French but you thought maybe he was good in Japanese?

“Uh, konnichiwa. Arigatou gozaimasu.”

You shook your head. “No, not just hi and thank you. Say a proper sentence.”

“I can’t. That’s the only words I know.”

“THAT’S IT?!” you hollered.

“Hey, it’s still Japanese!” he argued.

“Two words don’t count!”

“Knowledge is a knowledge no matter how small!” he insisted.

You could go on but you realised that you had a more important task. You wanted to solve the mystery before the time ran out because they gave free ice cream if you manage to get out in under an hour, and you were willing to fight for free ice cream, so you told Harry to find as much clues as he could in one part of the room whilst you searched the other part.

Harry jumped up in surprise and tumbled when the telly suddenly turned on and the receptionist’s face appeared on the screen. You cackled, and the receptionist failed to stifle her snigger. “Sorry, are you alright?” she asked.

“Well, physically I’m fine.” He replied. “Emotionally, I’m bruised.”

You howled at his response and the fact that he was looking down at the floor in embarrassment made it even harder for you to control your laughter. The girl gave you the first clue and told you to try to open the wooden box in the corner of the room. You tried to move things around before you heard Harry squeal when he found a bunch of keys.

“Hey, look at what I found!” he beamed proudly.

“What?” You asked curiously. “What is it?”

He showed you the keys that he found and shook it to make a rattling noise. “Keys!”

“Aaah! Open it! Open it!”

He struggled to get the key into the keyhole. He had tried five different keys and none of them seemed to work. “It doesn’t fit!” He grumbled, but then giggled not even two seconds afterwards. “Hehehe.”

You looked at him in confusion. “Why are you laughing?”

“If I got a penny for every time I said that.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t think any of those keys will work. That’s too easy. There’s got to be something else.”

It was safe to say that you both sucked at it. You had been in the room for twenty minutes and so far both of you had only found two little coins, a silk hand fan and a bunch of useless keys. You had tried to open every drawer and looked at underneath the tables but you found nothing. But then the sliding door suddenly opened and both of you looked at each other in horror.

“Did- what- how?!” you gasped.

“I’ve got no idea! Do you think this room is haunted?” he deadpanned. He knew you were a wimp and he found pleasure from the look of your face.

You scolded him. “HARRY!”

He giggled and walked behind you into the other room. Actually, he knew why the door opened—because he opened it. He was moving some paintings around and as soon as he moved that painting of a fish on the wall, the door opened, but there was no way on earth he would tell you that. And being the pest that he was, he made some creepy, breathy sound of your name to wind you up, making you shudder in fear.

“Harry I swear to God if you don’t stop, the first thing I’m going to do the second we get out of here is to kill you.” You threatened him, and he howled in response.

There was a giant sudoku on the wall, a table with some antiques on top of it and an empty aquarium. Great. You were shit at sudoku and you were sure that Harry was even worse.

“Oooh! Sudoku!” Harry clapped his hands excitedly.

You glanced at him. “Do you know how to play it?”

“Of course! I’m really good at it. I’m the best. I’m the king of sudoku!”

“Have you ever played it?”

He shook his head. “Not once in my whole life.”

“Oh God, we’re never getting out.”

“Come on, let’s just put those numbers in the slot.” He suggested as he began to take the wooden numbers out of the box.

“That’s not how it goes.” You folded your arms and Harry tilted his head at you, his forehead furrowed.

“That’s literally how it goes!”

“I mean,” you licked your lips for a second out of habit before you went on. “There’s got to be some rules. We can’t just put random num- ah! I remember we can’t put the same numbers in one region!”

“You’ll find me in the region of the summer stars~”

You smacked your forehead with your palm when he started to sing. After knowing him for a year and a half and lived together for about seven months, you knew that he sings 24/7. Most of the times it’s nice because you couldn’t deny that he’s got beautiful voice, but sometimes it makes you want to tape his mouth shut.

“Shut your trap and just put it in!”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He smirked at you as he put a nine and another nine but upside down next to each other in the slots.

You rolled your eyes. “That’s upside down you absolute spoon.”

You ended up doing the sudoku alone because Harry was shit at it. You weren’t much better, but you were better nonetheless. He decided to go and look for other clues. When you were done with the sudoku—re: gave up—you frowned when you looked around and couldn’t find Harry. You walked to the other room and you finally found the bloke sat on the floor in the corner of the room eating a Twix.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“I need to gain strength. You want a bite?” He replied as he took another bite of the chocolate bars. Yes, he always took a bite of both of them at once because he didn’t want one of the chocolates to get lonely in his tummy.

You chuckled. “Mate we’re shit at this we haven’t even done much.”

“But still fun, right? You’re having fun?” His eyebrows waggled as he licked his fingers after the last bite of the chocolate.

“I am. But I give up.”

He cackled. “We can still get ice cream after this if y’want? Screw free ice cream.”

“You’re buying?” You grinned at him, and he nodded.

“You know what? I’ve got a better idea. We’ll go to Shake Shack after this for some burgers and frozen custard cause daddy don’t skimp.”

“Great!” you cheered. “Am starving.”

“I swear you’re either starving, freezing or fuming.”

“I want to deny but you’re right.”

“What? Say tha’ again, can’t hear ya,” he teased.

You just sat together until the time ran out and the door opened, accepting the fact that you were just shit at it but hey at least you tried. After that, Harry fulfilled his promise of buying you a burger and frozen custard.

“Oh the cow in the meadow goes moo~” Harry started to sing again as soon as you sat down at the table with your food.

“……”

“Oh the cow in the meadow goes moo~”

“……”

“Then the farmer hits him on the head and grinds him up and that’s how we get hamburgers~”

***

“Y’alright ya wee cunt?” You greeted Harry, who had some random bird’s mouth attached to his neck. You were sure it would leave a mark or two. “How you been deein’?”

Harry pulled his neck away from the bird as soon as he heard you. “For God’s sake mate how much you’ve been drinking?!”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “Just a couple.”

“A couple my arse! C’mon let’s get you home, yeah?”

“What about your b- wait Harry, your bird’s gone!”

“S’alright. Not important. Let’s just get you home before you start calling people cunts again.”

“Hey! I don’t call people that.”

“You literally just called me that!”

“Well yeah that’s my pet name for you but I don’t call other people that.”

“What kind of pet name is that?!” Harry said as he held your hand and began walking towards the door. But just a couple steps away from the door, Rolling in the Deep came on and Harry gasped. “Oh fuck!”

“Wanna stay for this one song?” You smirked at him and you knew he wouldn’t say no.

***

The next morning you woke up feeling like you had just been hit by a truck. Your head was in bits and the rain outside sounded more like gunfire to you. You didn’t remember much from the night before and you surely didn’t know how you got home since you weren’t sure how pissed Harry was last night, but the fact that you woke up alone in your own bed made you sigh in relief.

“Morning, love. Coffee?” Harry greeted as he spotted you in the kitchen.

“Ssshh, why are you yelling?” You grumbled as you covered both of your ears with your hands.

Harry chuckled lightly and whispered. “I’m not? But alright. How are you feeling?”

“My head’s in bits. How much did I drink last night?”

“Well, the club’s gone because you drank it.” He teased. “Also you called me a cunt three times so you obviously had tequila.”

“Did I try to call him?”

“Yes. And you ran to the loo when I tried to take your phone away.”

“Did you manage to take it?”

“That I didn’t because I didn’t want people to think I was snooping in a ladies toilet. They’d kick me out.”

“Oh fuck! I called him didn’t I?”

“Nah, you didn’t. After you came in, I peeked inside and shouted so everyone could hear that you were about to call your ex. There were a couple girls inside and they talked you out of it.”

You couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle, and you wished you’d remembered it because that sounded funny. “What would I do without you, H.”

“Hey, s’nothing. What do you want to do today?” He asked you as he poured some muesli into the bowls.

“Sleep.”

And that was what you did for most of the day. After you had breakfast you took a nap and woke up around two in the afternoon. It was raining cats and dogs outside so you settled on the couch watching Friends because you spent the last few weeks watching rom-coms and if you watched another rom-com you swore you would lose your shit. You were snuggling up to Harry’s side, his left arm wrapped around you as you laughed at Joey and Rachel bickering. There were some slices of pizza left on the coffee table because none of you could be arsed to cook, along with two cans of coke.

“Do you want to finish that?” You asked Harry, tilting your head to the box of pizza.

Harry yawned before he answered. “I’m full.”

“Alright, I’ll clean that up.” You said as you rose from the couch.

“I’ll help.” Harry immediately picked up the box and you put the drinks on top of the box before you bent over to wipe the coffee table. “Watch out!” Harry warned you, but it was too late. Your back bumped the box of pizza, making the remaining coke spill all over his Rolling Stones shirt.

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” You panicked because you knew that was his favourite t-shirt. You grabbed a couple tissues right away and began rubbing the stained part of the shirt hoping it would help take away some of the liquid before it was stuck to the fabric. “Harry, I’m sor-“

You weren’t sure how it happened, but the next thing that happened surprised you. His lips were pressed against yours all of sudden, cutting you mid-sentence. He broke the kiss for two seconds to put the box of pizza and the cokes back on the table before leaning back to you and pressing his lips against yours again. You’d soften up this time around. You knew that was wrong. It was Harry and he was your best friend, not to mention that you live together and that would complicate the shit out of things. But it just felt so right. You never thought you would actually kiss him and you thought it would be awkward, but it wasn’t. You parted your lips when he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip subtly, his hands moved from your back to cup your jaw.

You couldn’t help but let out a little giggle against his lips when you felt something poking you in the stomach. Harry pulled his lips away instantly as soon as he realised what made you giggle. The look on his face made it harder for you to stifle your snigger.

“Shit,” his breaths quickened. “Sorry. I- I didn’t know what came over me. We’ve never- I shouldn’t have-“

You laughed as you dropped to your knees, and you swore Harry looked like he’d just seen a ghost. His pupils were dilated and he took in a sharp breath. “Y/N what are you doing?”

“Hunting elephants.”

“I’m serious.”

“What do you think? Is it not obvious?” You asked.

“It is. Fuck, I mean- you sure? You’re gonna-“ he blabbered.

“Suck you off, yes.” You cut him short and nodded.

He was less tense by then, a grin creeping up on his face “Such a dirty mouth.”

“Well I’m about to put your dick in my mouth so I’m not really concerned about oral hygiene right now.” You rolled your eyes.

“Hehehe.” He giggled, and you looked at him in confusion.

“What?”

“You’re gonna see my willy.”

“I know.”

“I’ve got some hair there.”

“Okay.”

“Not a lot because I still shave a little to keep it nice and pretty but-“

“Harry,”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, sorry.”

You didn’t know what came over you to make you want to do it, but it was a bit too late to chicken out, and frankly you wanted to do it. In four years of a relationship—yes, on and off but we’re going to round that up for dramatic purpose—you only gave Jamie head once so really, you didn’t know what came over you.

You knew he wasn’t small. You saw a glimpse of it a couple months prior when he forgot to lock the bathroom door, but you certainly didn’t get a good look of it. Little did you know that the next time you look at it, it’d nearly poke you in the eye.

His eyes widened when you looked up to him, muttering a series of profanities under his breath. You took a deep breath before taking it into your hand, and he choked on his breath as soon as your hand came into contact. He felt heavy in your hand. He was hard and you could see him already leaking from the tip.

“Give it a kiss, love. Please.” He begged, and you obliged. Kissing the tip lightly, before you began licking from the base to the tip. You weren’t really sure what to do, but the noises that he made egged you on so you thought maybe you were doing fine. His head lolled back when you gently sucked the tip.

The grunts and praises that kept flowing out of his mouth encouraged you to take it further into your mouth. It felt really heavy and you could just feel it weighing down on your tongue as he pushed past your lips. You took the rest of him in your hand and you began to work your hand and mouth around him in sync. You knew that there was a slight chance that both of you would regret what you were doing, but it didn’t matter in that moment.

You knew that he was close when he started whining. You let him go for a second to ask him before it was too late. “Where do you want it?”

You could hear his ragged breathing but he couldn’t form a sentence - that was how fucked up he was. You let him go again for a second. “Okay, aim wherever you like, just don’t get it in my ha- MATE YOU HAD ONE JOB!”

“Sor- sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He apologised as he fell down to the couch behind him, trying to even his breathing. “Love, that was, wow I- wow I can’t even speak.”

You chuckled. “S’alright. You’re welcome by the way.”

“You.” He shook his head in disbelief, still grinning from ear to ear. “Didn’t know you have it in you, babe.”

“I’m gonna take a shower then we’re gonna go out and play laser tag.” You smirked as you jumped to your feet.

“What?”

“What? You don’t want to play laser tag?”

“Well yeah of course I want to. S’fun seeing you curse at a bunch of eight year olds and make them cry.” He paused to take another deep breath before he went on. “But, uh, you don’t want me to reciprocate?”

“Nah, I’m fine. Maybe later.” You gave him a lopsided grin.

“Fine we’re going. But-“

“What?”

“Wanna snog again before we go and get ready?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Okay.”

-

bow chicka wow wow

[semper-legens]

48. The Gender Games, by Juno Dawson

Owned?: No, library Page count: 352 My summary: Gender: not just the bane of trans people’s lives, but everyone’s. In her memoir/manifesto on gender, Juno Dawson takes us through her relationship with Gender, from her childhood and young adulthood identifying as male, to the realisation that she is, in fact, a woman. My rating: 5/5 My commentary:

You know, the problem with lockdown is that I’m reading way less than I should be. You’d think it’d be the other way around! But alas, most of my reading was done on the bus to and from work, and while I still have to work I’m staying off public transport for the nonce, resulting in way less Read Time. Also, I have Animal Crossing. So that’s a factor.

Juno Dawson! Despite idolising her as a human, I don’t think I’ve read any of her work before? Maybe a short story or something, I don’t remember. I gotta say, I love her voice in this. She’s an incredibly witty and engaging writer, not afraid to show us her faults and failings along with her joys and triumphs. Some books feel like a lecture, some like a chat in a pub. Dawson’s feels like a 3am conversation with a good friend, and that’s a great vibe for a book to have!

For such a serious subject matter, Dawson’s tone is light and her voice witty. I particularly loved her chapter titles - ‘Terf wars’, ‘The Kids Aren’t Alt-Right’. Her narrative places intimate focus on small moments in her life, like her relationship with the Spice Girls and how that informed her later revelations about gender. It makes the reader really feel like they’re getting to know her. Her more serious passages about the effect that Gender has on people are well-researched, as evidenced by the mountain of footnotes citing her sources. 

One interesting thing Dawson does is to personify Gender. Gender is never an abstract concept; it’s a boogeyman, a false friend, a thief that stalks every person and steals their childhoods. She personifies other concepts later, in a lesser degree - Love I think is one, and also Sex. It’s a really cool way of visualising the damage that gender can do to people’s lives, to imagine it as being a sentient being shoving all of these harmful things down our throats - but also as a revelation, when one finds a relationship to gender that works well for them. That dichotomy, between Gender the shadowy being that only hurts and Gender the eventual salvation, the key to understanding a large part of your life and personality, is really interesting and subtly played throughout the book.

So, personal note. I didn’t know that Juno Dawson went to the same uni as me! Bangor University, in North Wales. She attended over a decade before I did, but there was one line in this book that was on my mind all day after I read it.  ‘At Bangor, in 2000, there were no other trans students that I knew of.’ 

As a trans person who attended Bangor from 2013-2016, that just. Got me. Because I didn’t know a whole lot of other trans people at Bangor - I knew one or two, but then again I’m not a social person. But I just got to thinking about how much can change over such a deceptively small amount of time. Sure, I was still largely closeted in uni, but I was still attending with my desired appearance, having figured out I was trans age 17. A lot of people, and particularly people older than me, didn’t have that privilege, because they didn’t have tools like the internet to show them that being trans was an option, or because people were more judgemental/bigoted about appearances, or things like that. Thirteen years, but I was able to draw around me a group of largely LGBT+ friends, while Dawson was, as far as she knew, alone.

That’s a weirdly melancholy note to end it on? This is a fantastic book, and I’d really recommend it to anyone who likes Dawson, or who is curious about gender theory. 

[danfanciesphil]

Give Me A Try (New Chapter)

Gay Instagram Model/Bartender Phan AU Part 2 

(Part One)

Also up on Ao3!

The Habenero bar is closed on Sundays, thank God. 

The owner of the establishment is, surprisingly, a devout Catholic that believes in resting on the Sabbath. Dan is not all for this Catholic tradition (ignoring, for now, all the oppression and homophobia) because after Saturday night’s hell shifts, he’s usually in need of some recuperation. 

He wakes up at 2pm on Sunday afternoon on his sofa in a shirt that doesn’t belong to him. His phone is stuck to his cheek, and there are crisp crumbs in his hair. There’s a fug of stale, smoky, sweat in the air, like the smell of the soaked dancefloor of the bar at the end of each night. Belatedly, Dan realises that he’s fallen asleep in what he was wearing when he got back last night, meaning that he’s still soaked in alcohol. 

Grimacing at his own grossness, Dan hauls himself up from the sofa and staggers into the bathroom to shower. It’s only as he peers up at his reflection in the mirror above the sink that he remembers the shirt. At first, it confuses him, as it’s far too nice of a garment to be his. It’s clearly fitted, tailored probably, with a subtly cinched waist, and neat, complex stitching around the hem and sleeves. 

He peers closer at his reflection to read the little label on the pocket. 

Givenchy

Dan jumps backwards, hands held aloft as if he’s about to mark the thing with his grubby paws. He needs to get this thing off him right now, it’s far too expensive to be on his body. How had he let himself fall asleep in this last night? It’s probably all crumpled, he’ll have to get it dry cleaned-

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he scrambles for it, heart pounding as he catches sight again of his snappily dressed reflection. It’s a text from Tyler, the last of several by the looks of things. He swipes to view them.

From: Tyler omg CANNOT believe what happened last night

From: Tyler can we get brunch today?? lots to discuss..

From: Tyler hellooo?? earth to dan?

From: Tyler did u die from overstimulation of the brain after giving ur all time celeb crush ur fREAKING NUMBER

From: Tyler message me when ur awake bitch x

The blood drains from Dan’s face as he reads through the messages, all of which confirm that the events of last night weren’t a dream, and that, yes, Phil Lester did saunter into the bar, flirt with him, and hand over his designer shirt so that Dan wouldn’t have to finish work in a soaked one. 

Not knowing how to respond to Tyler, Dan chooses to just ignore it for now. He places the phone down and begins carefully unbuttoning the shirt, fingers practically trembling when he thinks of how expensive it would be if he were to accidentally rip a button off. As his fingers open the lapels, his mind flashes up a helpful image of Phil doing the exact same in front of him last night, his methodical, pale fingers working to reveal his bare chest inch by inch, right in the middle of the god damn bar. 

Dan’s face flames, and he tries hard to think of something else. Once the shirt is off, he folds it as carefully as he can and places it on the counter beside the sink. He then shucks off his beer-soaked jeans, which do not get anywhere near the same treatment, and jumps into the shower. 

It’s only as the warm, comforting stream of water cascades over him that Dan’s frantic mind relaxes enough to slip back into the memory of the previous evening, and all that transpired. Phil Lester. Right there before him. 

The slow, flirtatious smile spreading across his broad, full lips. The familiar sweep of his jet black hair. The pulse of his glinting blue eyes in the swirl of coloured lights. 

‘I got distracted by the cute bartender, and forgot to order him another one...’

‘I could save you as cute bartender when you text me...’

Cute. Phil had called him cute. Twice.

The water seems scalding hot, suddenly. Dan’s body temperature rises by at least two degrees, he’s sure. He swallows down some saliva, and runs his hands through his wet curls. How on earth had any of this happened? Situations like this are so unlikely that they’re almost never heard of. 

He feels how he imagines Katie Holmes must have felt when Tom Cruise sidled up to her, all flirtatious smiles and pick-up lines, after she’d been staring at his poster for all her childhood, tacked onto her bedroom wall. 

Again, the thick, treacly gaze Phil cast across to him over the bar seeps into Dan’s mind. The memory of it covers Dan's whole body, as if it were pouring out of the shower head, slathering him in its intensity. The amount of time Dan has spent staring into those eyes on his phone screen is insurmountable, but having experienced them in real life, he now knows that he may as well not have bothered. Those eyes will haunt him for the rest of time. 

He feels the familiar scratch of arousal start to drag at his thighs, tingling at the tips of his fingers, so he turns the temperature down, trying to divert it. Now that he’s spoken with Phil, so recently, it would seem odd to jerk off to the thought of him. 

...Not that AmazingPhil is anything like a stranger in Dan’s mental storage of wanking material. 

It’s just as Dan is rinsing the shampoo out of his hair that he remembers the one, tiny hiccup in the exchange with his crush. Phil had stolen Dan’s phone to type in his number, and had seen that Dan had been stalking his Instagram. 

As he freezes, remembering this mortifying scene, the shampoo trickles down into Dan’s eyes, blinding him. 

“Fuck!” Dan shouts, loud enough that he’s sure the neighbours heard. 

*

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyler shovels a slice of avocado toast into his mouth. He chews a bit, noisily, then continues speaking with his mouth full. “I trawl the billions of nasty vintage shops in the Laines for a designer shirt, and you get one handed to you for free?! And by a dazzling, incredibly hot model? Hand over your fucking magic lamp, Dan. Some of us need it more than others.”

Dan watches with a slightly downturned mouth as Tyler talks around his mouthful of food. “Err, I think I was due some good luck, actually.”

Tyler looks like he’s about to argue, but then shuts his mouth, staring down at his plate in reluctant acceptance. “Yeah, okay, true. But still. Can I at least touch it?”

Dan shakes his head, drawing the bag containing the shirt closer to his side of the table. He’s taking it to the local dry cleaning company after this, as well as giving the staff there a long, terrifying warning that if they do so much as snag a stitch, there will be hell to pay. 

“No way,” Dan replies. “You’ll nick the thing if I let you too close to it.” 

Tyler sighs. “You know me too well.” He bites his lip, staring longingly at the bag, and sighs again. “So, when is Mister Delavigne retrieving his garment?” 

Dan shrugs, poking at the poached egg on his plate with a fork. He has no idea why he ordered this, he doesn’t really eat eggs. But brunch is such a specific meal, he feels like he needs to order something aesthetically ‘brunch-like’. 

“Wait, you mean you haven’t set up a time to give it back to him yet?” Tyler asks, horrified. 

“It hasn’t even been a day,” Dan says. “Besides, he said he might stop in on Thursday for Bingo-”

“No no no!” Tyler cries, sounding scandalised. “Dan, are you this clueless? The man gave you his number!” 

Dan’s cheeks heat, remembering the incident that occurred during this scenario. “Yeah, to text him about getting the shirt back.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “No, you nonce, the shirt is irrelevant! It’s an excuse for you to get in touch with him.” 

This time, Dan rolls his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. It’s a fucking designer shirt, he just wants to make sure he’ll get it back.” 

“He was flirting with you!” 

“He’s a flirty guy. Trust me, I know everything about him. I’m like... a big fan.” 

A sigh of pity gusts across the table towards him. Tyler places a hand atop his, and leans forwards. “Dan, listen to me. Text that hunk of delicious, geek-chic muscle, and watch how he responds. I guarantee he will try and flirt more.” 

“I guarantee he will just say he wants his shirt back.” 

Tyler smirks. “You’re on, dumbo.” 

*

It takes Dan two and a half beers to summon the courage to text Phil. He spends Sunday evening scrolling through the photos on the AmazingPhil Instagram page, studying each one in great detail so that he can remember each minute feature of Phil’s perfect, Adonis-like face. 

He’s had the text message screen up for some time, the word ‘Phil’ at the top where he’d saved his number, as if he were just any ‘Phil’, rather than the Amazing Phil that has haunted Dan’s daydreams ever since he first stumbled on a photo of him years prior. 

For maybe the sixth time that night, Dan types out a potential message. 

From: Dan To: Phil Hey, this is Dan from Habeneros bar. I have your shirt. Would you like me to  send it back to you?

He doesn’t send it yet. Instead, he copies the message, and pastes it into his chat with Tyler. The response is practically instantaneous. Dan wonders, not for the first time, if Tyler actually has any semblance of a life outside of the bar. 

From: Tyler To: Dan wtf is that shit????

From: Tyler To: Dan r u trying to turn him off

From: Dan To: Tyler ?? what do u mean

From: Tyler To: Dan u sound like a bot

From: Dan To: Tyler im being polite!!!

From: Tyler To: Dan polite is not going to get you in his pants

Instantly, Dan’s cheeks catch aflame, and he feels his heart squeeze. Even the idea of such a thing is too much for Dan’s poor, wrung out brain to comprehend. He could never, in a billion years, be that lucky. After last night, where one of the most absurd of his sexual fantasies came true - Phil stripping off in front of him in public - he’s sure his luck has run dry. 

From: Dan To: Tyler shut up. tell me what to say then

From: Tyler To: Dan ‘hey sexy, still shirtless? i live nearby if u want some help with that...’

Dan splutters and chokes on his beer. 

From: Dan To: Tyler NO!!

From: Tyler To: Dan fine fine. prude. how about...

Teeth gritted as he wills his heart rate to settle back into a reasonable rhythm, Dan waits for Tyler’s next message. His fingernails tap on the edge of his beer bottle. Trit, trit, trit. 

From: Tyler To: Dan ‘hey! not sure if u remember me but u heroically clothed me in ur Givenchy at a bar on Sat. the lanky bartender covered in blue sugary liquid? i know, i know, super hot.  anyway :’) i have your shirt. you  should swing by the bar again! or i  can send it back. up to you dude!  but bingo nights are off the fuckin chain js. let me know :) x’

Dan reads the message through, only cringing slightly. Honestly, he was sure it would be way worse. It’s actually kind of funny, and weirdly sounds like him. Tyler has clearly been subjected to Dan’s lame sense of humour for far too long. 

Without thinking, Dan drains the rest of his beer, copies the message Tyler gave him, and pastes it into the text box he’s opened with Phil. He presses send before his alcohol laced mind can catch up, wanting to be rid of this conundrum. 

From: Dan To: Tyler ok, sent it. 

From: Tyler To: Dan omg what :O

From: Tyler To: Dan did you really?? :’’’D

From: Tyler To: Dan i thought you’d want to edit it a bit first!! wow ok looool

From: Dan To: Tyler dont say that! you’ll make me anxious

From: Dan To: Tyler besides you made it sound like me its fine

From: Tyler To: Dan uh huh... let me know what he says :’D

From: Dan To: Tyler i fucking hate u

From: Tyler To: Dan xxx

The corner of Dan’s mouth quirks traitorously. His relationship with Tyler is complicated. Never before has he been able to hate someone and love them at the same time. Just as he’s about to pocket the phone again, it buzzes in his hand. He glances at the screen to see that Phil has - oh, God - already texted him back. 

He almost drops the damn thing.

From: Phil To: Dan hey dan! yeah of course i remember you ;D surprisingly i dont strip off in the middle of a bar that often. or  for just anyone ;) omg id forgotten about bingo!! super excited. i’ll be there! what time should i swing by? xx

His hand grows clammy, and he can feel his heart picking up speed. It’s mental that just reading Phil’s words can have him so agitated. He wonders if Phil has already saved his name into his phone. Probably not. Dan’s still a complete stranger, just one that happens to have a very expensive item of his clothing. 

From: Dan To: Phil awesome. you wont be disappointed! bingo starts at 7 on thursdays :) ur  shirt and i will see you there! x

Dan dithers about the kiss. He deletes it and retypes it three times, wondering what sort of message it transforms into when it’s added. In the end, after careful analysis of Phil’s initial message (in which there are not one, but two kisses attached) he decides to leave it on. 

Dan more or less expects that to be the end of the conversation, and he breathes a sigh of relief as the text swoops out of his control, but the sight of the three pulsating dots on the left bottom corner of his screen stop him from closing the text window. 

He waits, heart palpitating, for Phil’s reply. 

From: Phil To: Dan are u feeding her well? i hope ur  taking her for a walk twice a day.  tell her i love and miss her, and will see her soon. xx

Dan snorts with laughter, realising that Phil is referring to the shirt. 

From: Dan To: Phil she just pooped on my carpet :/ buttons everywhere x

From: Phil To: Dan :o so sorry. will be sure to give her no treats when i get her back xx

From: Dan To: Phil what kind of treats does she like? x

From: Phil To: Dan moth balls, tide pods... she’s fussy  :/ xx

Dan’s sniggers into his jumper sleeve, eyes crinkling at Phil’s silly responses. Is this flirting, he wonders? Could Tyler have been right about this? 

From: Phil To: Dan gotta run! im sitting in makeup for a shoot and they just finished  prettifying me :’D see u thurs ;) xx

‘You’re already pretty’ is Dan’s instant thought for a response, but he deletes it as soon as his fingers begin typing the words. He shakes his head at himself, berating his brain for being so gooey and idiotic. 

From: Dan To: Phil cool :) see u! x

Much more appropriate, Dan thinks, then locks his phone. It hits him like a freight train as he sits on the edge of his bed, blank phone in hand, that he just arranged a follow up meeting with AmazingPhil. 

He remains perfectly still, sure that the second he moves, the impact of what he’s just done will send him into a full blown panic attack. He invited Phil to Bingo night of all nights. 

He drops his head into his hands, groaning. As he looks up through the slats between his fingers, he notices the Givenchy shirt, hanging proudly on the door of his wardrobe. 

“This is all your fault,” Dan tells it. It doesn’t respond. 

*

Bingo nights are one of the Habenero bar’s busiest. Tyler first came up with the idea around two years ago, being a self-declared Bingo-hoe, but filled with criticism of Brighton’s few and far between Bingo events. 

“Bingo should be about booze, glitter, and loud, obnoxious screaming,” Tyler used to say. “Brighton needs to up its Bingo game.” 

Finally, after months of pleading to Habenero's owner, Tyler managed to wrangle an opportunity to host an experimental Bingo evening, run on his terms. He spared no expense of the meagre budget he was permitted, and created Brighton's, and maybe the world's, first Gay Rave Bingo Extravaganza. 

There are several rounds to the game. The first is the ‘classic’ round, to get everyone into the swing of things. Players are in teams of up to five, they get a Bingo board between them with a selection of random numbers. Tyler, the charismatic host, hops up on the stage to crack a few jokes and welcome everyone. He then goes back to serve drinks whilst Dan calls out the numbers. 

Teams receive ten points per round if they win, five if they come second, one if they come third. 

The following rounds get a little... messier. There’s a ‘drag race’ round, where new boards are handed out, and photos of the RuPaul’s Drag Race contestants are projected onto a screen. Players must correctly identify the contestants in order to be able to cross them all off on their boards. 

This is followed by Dan’s favourite, the ‘closet smash’ round, where clips of famous ‘gay’ scenes from movies, TV shows, webseries’ or any other kind of media are shown on mute, and players must cross the unheard lines of dialogue off on their board. 

There’s a ‘guess the ballad’ round, where LGBT+ friendly songs are played that must be guessed, and finally one last round of just numbers, this time while everyone is significantly more drunk (drinking a sip or a shot each time a correct answer is guessed is highly encouraged, but not necessarily advised by the bar staff, due to the lawsuit that could ensue) and there are loud, booming Madonna hits playing. 

The team with the most points at the end of the night gets a £50 bar tab, along with a shower of glitter, confetti and applause. The losing team has to forfeit. 

Phil arrives in the nick of time, flanked by one intimidatingly attractive man, and a slightly older straight couple. Dan spots them straight away, and hops down from the stage, pink-cheeked, as Tyler continues welcoming the various patrons that have shown up. 

There is no shortage of teams this evening. Dan sincerely hopes Phil is prepared for what’s about to unfold here, although if he has ever been to a different Bingo night, he probably has a very different idea of what to expect. As Dan approaches, he can see the flicker of surprise that is so often found on first-timers' faces, flickering across Phil's gorgeous features.  

“Hey,” Dan manages, heart already clawing itself up his throat. 

Phil turns to him, a bright smile sweeping across his face at once. “Dan!”

A bright, white flash of electricity shoots down Dan’s spine; hearing his name on Phil’s lips is a little too much to handle, at present. He manages not to swoon on the spot, just. 

“You made it!” 

“Of course!” Phil grins. “How could I resist Bingo night?”

Dan smiles, melting under the pleasant, crackling campfire of Phil's warm greeting. Tonight, Phil is wearing contacts, and his eyes seem even bluer than they had the first time. As he stares into them, Dan thinks he can spot glimmers of gold, of violet, of lime. 

“Not sure this is quite the sort of Bingo night I pictured when you dragged me here, Phil,” the attractive man on Phil’s left says, breaking Dan out of his trance. 

Phil laughs, nodding in agreement. "Me neither. But I'm excited. This is PJ by the way, Dan." Phil jabs a thumb at the man. "And this is my brother, Martyn, and his girlfriend, Cornelia." 

Biting back a stab of jealousy, Dan shakes waves to each of them, ending on PJ, for whom he finds himself needing to bite back a stab of jealousy. How many attractive men does Phil just cart around with him, day to day?

"Oh don't get me wrong, Dan, I'm excited too," PJ says. "Anything glittery brings out the craft-wizard in me."

"Sophie's going to be so pissed that she missed this," Phil says, eyes still sweeping around the gaudily decorated bar. Tyler spares no expense for Bingo nights. Everything is covered in banners, in balloons, in... glitter. Lots and lots of glitter. It's a nightmare to clean up at the end of the night, every time. 

"Not sure it's acceptable to have two straight couples in a gay bar," PJ mutters in response. 

Ah, Dan notes, his jealous monster retracting its claws. PJ is perhaps not as much of a threat as he'd thought. Not that there's anything about Dan which would need threatening. His chances with someone like Phil are laughably non-existent, whether or not Phil's handsome friends are straight. 

"Oh, you're all very welcome," Dan assures PJ. "Bingo is a non-discriminatory sport."

"Sport?" Martyn asks, looking a little more on the concerned side than some of the others.

Dan chuckles. "Yeah, uh, our take on Bingo is a bit more... energetic, than you might be used to."

Phil raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, obviously intrigued. Dan just smiles back enigmatically. “So, do you have a spare table for us?” 

“Hmm, we might,” Dan says, trying with all his might to look nonchalant as he sweeps a vague gaze across the room. 

By no means can Phil know that Dan has spent the last two hours in which he and his co-workers set up being relentlessly teased for insisting on saving the best table for AmazingPhil. He'd gotten to work early, in fact, and reserved Phil the table right near the front, not too close to the speakers, but with a fantastic view of the ball cage and the screen. 

As breezily as he can, Dan leads Phil and his friends to this table, and gets them seated with pens, a Bingo board, and some drinks menus. It’s at this moment that Tyler, who has been buffeting the audience about on the breeze of his easy, clever humour, decides to introduce him. 

“And this yummy little twink over here is Dan,” Tyler says into the mic he’s holding. He gestures down at where Dan hovers, near to Phil’s table. The audience all turn to him, spreading a warm, gradual blush over his cheeks. “Dan will be fondling all your balls this evening, so do please keep an eye on him. Tip him well, ladies. Fellas. Folks in between.”

The audience laugh heartily, including all of Phil's table, so Dan just glares at Tyler, then scurries onto the stage in preparation for the first round. As he draws the first few numbers from the ball cage, Tyler wanders through the tables, taking drinks orders and greeting some regulars. Dan watches him hawkishly as he goes, hardly concentrating as he calls out the numbers. Eventually, Tyler saunters over to Phil's table, which is a frightening thing to behold. Dan stutters as he calls out the number in his hand, too intent on trying to lip-read Tyler's words as he converses with Phil and his friends. 

Whatever Tyler is saying seems to be making Phil laugh, which is hardly a good sign. 

After a minute or so, Tyler moves away, and Dan relaxes into his routine, cracking jokes each time a vaguely sexual number is called out - everyone loses their goddamn shit as usual when he reads out 69 - and things pass without issue. He keeps an eye on Phil's table as subtly as he can, and from what he can make out, the four of them seem to be having a good time. 

It catches Dan off guard when a table near the back shout out "Bingo!", distracted as he is by Phil's presence tonight. He blinks at the winning table for a moment before remembering his duty, and calls them up on stage to check their board. 

"Alright, winner of the first round, table 22!"

"Our team name is actually Cougar Chasers," one glittery young man informs him. 

Dan just smiles awkwardly, not wanting to explain that team names have never been part of the Bingo rules. As the team leave the stage, Dan glances back down towards Phil's table just in time to see Phil mouth "this round?" to PJ. 

He smirks to himself, wondering how the infamous AmazingPhil will cope under the intensity of the next few hours. 

*

Phil does not cope well. 

His team struggles the most by a long way, which is perfectly normal for first time Bingo players at Habenero. They get some points, but only a few, and are often seen scribbling frantically, or having heated discussions amongst themselves, eyes wide, hands gesticulating, stirring the confetti that's gathered on the table. 

Despite his poor performance, however, Phil seems to be enjoying his experience thoroughly. His glasses may be steamed from the dry ice Tyler pumps out in excess, and his clothes and hair might be smothered in an inch of glitter, but he's grinning widely, and is clearly trying his hardest. His forté seems to be the drag race round, for which his team actually manages to place second due to Phil's apparent extensive knowledge of the show. 

He throws the board up in the air when he shouts "Bingo!", but unfortunately it's a fraction of a second too late, and another team snags first place. 

At the end of the final round, it becomes clear to Dan, with a slow sense of dread, that Phil's team has lost. The losing team gets a forfeit, and it's almost always the same thing. Tyler swans over to the stage to announce the winners, and Dan falls back, eyeing Phil's table with a prickling fear. 

"...so big round of applause once more for our winners, everyone!" Tyler shouts once he's announced everyone. The crowd cheer and whistle for the winning teams, who bow theatrically, blowing kisses to the audience. "Bring your sparkly asses up to the bar to claim your £50 worth of drinks. But, come on now folks. I know what you dramatic little hoes are really excited for." Tyler winks and they all laugh, cheering happily. "Our big losers tonight... I am most scintillated to announce, are..." 

Dan bites his lip. 

"Table 34! Otherwise known as our smoking celebrity presence this evening, Instagram's AmazingPhil," Tyler announces. "And friends." 

Phil's eyebrows shoot up in unmistakeable shock. The crowd cheers, bewildering him and the others at the table even further. To Dan's surprise, Phil looks to him, questioningly, as if he's asking Dan to explain. Dan sends him a pitying glance, wondering if there's any way to warn Phil of what's about to happen. It's usually fairly pointless to try and stop Tyler, however. And besides, the idiot is already speaking again. 

"So, I'm sure you all know by now what happens to our losing team each week," Tyler says, grinning down at them all. "Table thirty-four, please kindly follow me to the bar." 

A loud 'whoop' of excitement resounds around the room, and there's a scrape of chairs as people hurry over towards the bar, wanting to secure the best spots for the spectacle about to unfold. Dan reluctantly begins climbing down from the stage as well, at which point he feels someone grab his arm. He turns, surprised to find himself face to face with Phil, and stumbles on his way down. Phil, who still has hold of his arm, manages to stop Dan from landing smack down on the sticky floor, hauling him upright. 

Dan, mortified, stammers out some sort of thank you, much to Phil's amusement. "Don't worry," Phil tells him. "I surprised you, it's my fault. Though I have a feeling I'm not going to be feeling as chivalrous towards you in a few minutes." 

Phil raises an eyebrow at him, still questioning, and Dan just attempts an enigmatic smile. He's so flustered that he's sure it comes off as more of a grimace, but at least he tries. 

"Hey, mate, it's not my fault you suck at Bingo," Dan says, his daring comment scrounged up from a reserve of courage he wasn't aware existed. "The Habenero staff accept no responsibility for you not reading the rules of the event before participating." 

Phil huffs a laugh, and releases him. "Perhaps a certain bartender should have given me a list of these rules before allowing me to sign up?"

Dan throws his hands up in front of him, already backing away from the conversation. "Hey, all the rules are listed on our website. Now, sir, if you would kindly step up to the bar to accept your forfeit."

Just as Dan is about to turn from him and sprint off, Phil steps forwards, penetrating Dan's personal bubble with his intimidating presence. Dan stops breathing instantly, caught in a sudden limbo as the world slows around him, the movements of the crowd crawling to a snail's pace, the pumping music becoming a distorted drawl. Phil leans towards him, a smirk on his lips, which he brings to Dan's ear. 

"Kind of like it when you call me Sir." 

He leans away, and the world falls back into its rhythm, the music blaring, the lights swirling in a cacophony of colour. Dan blinks, or so it seems, and Phil has moved from him, is back with his friends, headed for the bar. Dan lets out the breath he's been holding in a sudden rush, his lungs screaming with relief. He takes a moment to gather himself as best he can, heart palpitating wildly, and shakily makes his way over as well. 

*

"So, Dan, tell me," Phil says, wiping his sodden fringe from his brow. "How is it that whenever I come within ten feet of you, I seem to have an overwhelming urge to remove my shirt?" 

Dan, who is having a great deal of trouble averting his gaze from the miles of smooth, glittery skin covering Phil's bare chest, shrugs, mouth moving without making a noise. Phil is dripping wet, covered in beads of moisture, his damp shirt slung over one shoulder. He looks delicious, like a cold, dewy, fresh apple, just begging Dan to sink his teeth in. Just then, Tyler wanders over, placing two shots down on the bar between Dan and Phil. 

"Don't worry, hot stuff," Tyler tells Phil, winking. "Dan's pretty, but his charms wear off eventually." 

"I doubt that," Phil replies smoothly. Dan splutters, reddening. Phil glances down at the shots Tyler handed over, frowning. "What's this?"

"Thought you deserved a drink after all we put you through this evening," Tyler says. "And I thought Dan might like to join you."

Dan glares at Tyler, who just beams back, happily, before sauntering away. Shyly, Dan turns back to Phil, who has picked up the shot glass between his thumb and forefinger, and is rotating it in the space between them, gazing into the clear liquid. 

"Sorry about him," Dan says, surprised that he's able to force the words out, croaky as they are. "And sorry about... y'know. Everything else." 

Glancing over the rim of the shot glass, Phil grins, eyes crinkling. "Are you kidding? This is the best Bingo night I've ever been to." 

"Even though we sprayed you and your friends with the soda hoses for losing?" 

Phil nods. "Which means you must be an excellent Bingo host." 

"I'm just the guy who reads the numbers," Dan says, dismissive. 

He refuses to take credit for the Bingo nights. They're Tyler's baby, he just helps out. 

"You clearly know your way around the balls," Phil jokes, winking as Dan splutters again. His cheeks feel like they're about to burst into flames, at this point.

"Hah, well..." Dan shifts awkwardly, adjusting his jeans - they have a tendency to slip down his hips without permission. "Good to know I have at least one talent, I guess." 

"So, are you going to drink with me, Dan?" 

Dan hesitates, looking down at the shot Tyler poured for him. The milky yellow colour suggests tequila, perhaps the strongest thing he could have given them. Dan has over an hour left of his shift still, and technically he's not supposed to ingest any alcohol whatsoever during working hours. However, that doesn't mean he never does. Customers buy him drinks all the time, and while he sometimes declines, or pretends to drink them... there have often been instances where he's given into temptation. 

As he stares across the counter at his all time crush, shirtless and dripping from where he'd been sprayed with lemonade and soda water, Dan kind of gets the feeling that this is going to be one of the times where his resistance falls through. 

Not trusting himself to speak, Dan just picks up the shot, and watches in quiet awe as Phil smiles, clinks his own against it, and throws it back, expertly. Caught on the tantalising bob of Phil's stubbled Adam's apple as he swallows the spirit, Dan almost forgets to drink his. He remembers just as Phil's eyes fall back to his, and downs it swiftly. 

Purely to show off, Dan reaches below the bar to grab some lemon wedges, and hands one to Phil, blushing. "Here, it's practically blasphemous to do a tequila shot without a chaser." 

"Well, I'm no stranger to sin," Phil says, but accepts the lemon anyway, grinning. 

Dan bites into his lemon wedge, cursing himself internally when he realises how unattractive his face becomes as he does so. Luckily, Phil just chuckles, and does the same, wincing. "Ugh, that was awful. Tell your friend I said thanks." 

Dan laughs. "I will."

"Well, I'd better get back to my friends," Phil says, scanning the immediate vicinity for them. "Not looking forward to another shirtless walk home though, I must admit. I got some... peculiar reactions from people last time." 

"Sorry about that," Dan says, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Oh, wait, what am I saying? I have your shirt from last time, you can wear that." 

"Oh, right," Phil says, laughing to himself. "I completely forgot that's why I came tonight."

"Having too much fun, clearly," Dan jokes, already scooting out from behind the bar. "Come with me, I left it in the staff room." 

Dan weaves through the thinning crowd of people. People tend to leave pretty quickly after Bingo night ends on Thursdays. He and Tyler will probably be able to close early tonight. Dan can feel Phil following behind, as if he's attuned to Phil Lester's movement, tapped into the heat of his body. He feels he'd be able to just sense if Phil was in a room, even if it was packed with people. Phil's presence pours out a specific, viscous aura, clogging Dan's pores, seeping into the workings of his brain and slowing them down, smearing a haze across his sight. 

They reach the door of the staff room, marked 'private', and Dan pushes inside, heading straight for the lockers on the far wall. His skin prickles, sensing that Phil has followed him in here. It only now occurs to Dan how strange this might seem, luring Phil into an empty, secret room under the premise of returning him something. He decidedly does not turn around, instead choosing to fumble with his locker key in the door. 

"I, uh, got it dry cleaned," Dan babbles, drawing the garment out of his locker. It's still on its hanger, as uncreased and pristine as Dan could manage. "I don't know if it was supposed to have any special treatment, but I told them to be extra careful-" 

As Dan turns, he realises that Phil has moved extremely close. Neither of them hit the light switch, so the room remains dark, only lit dimly by the coloured lights pouring in through the ajar door. Dan can hear Phil breathe, can hear the thump of someone's heart - probably his own. He's pretty sure the song playing in the bar outside is Britney's 'Toxic', but he can't be sure. The sound of his own desperate, roiling desire is deafening. 

"Thanks, Dan," Phil says softly, reaching for the shirt. "Wish I could've seen you in it." There's a pause; Dan can hear his own cells fizzing through his body. "Or not in it." 

In that second, Dan is sure he's about to be kissed. Every sign is there: Phil inching closer, leaning in, the flutter of his eyes, as if they're about to fall shut. Dan tries to brace himself for it, to prepare his frantic brain for something so miraculous, so improbably, so utterly wild as being kissed by AmazingPhil-

The door swings open. Blinding, fluorescent light floods the room, and Phil steps backwards, cringing from it. 

"Shit, sorry..." Lara says from the doorway. Her round, pretty face is filled with apologies. "My shift is over, Tyler said I could head home... fuck, did I interrupt-"

"Hey, it's okay," Phil says brightly, sending her a soft, reassuring smile. "Dan was just returning my shirt. I need to head home as well, anyway. Great night, guys! Thanks again for the shirt, Dan!" 

In the next second, he's gone, and Dan, a mess of emotions, is somehow on the floor, back against the lockers, mind utterly blank. He vaguely notes, in the background, Lara jabbering at him, a thousand apologies falling from her lips. 

*

For two agonising days, Dan hears nothing else. Aside from Tyler bringing the topic up every few milliseconds, Dan's life trundles on devoid of AmazingPhil. Even his Instagram is dry. The day after Bingo night, Phil posts an apology note on his Instagram story that reads:

overdid it at Bingo last night (dont laugh) - having a much needed hangover day in bed with sweet potato fries & a Buffy marathon. Posts will resume ASAP! xx

The day after that, Phil posts nothing. It's unusual. Instagram is Phil's job, so he posts at least once a day, normally. Of course, there are exceptions, like when he goes up North to visit his family, or is too busy and forgets. There's far from a regular upload schedule, but AmazingPhil can normally be relied upon to post at least once a day, and often more. 

Then, on Sunday, just as Dan is getting in from his shift at around six in the morning, his phone buzzes. Dan reaches for it as he's peering into his fridge. He's bone tired, but his stomach is not going to let him go straight to sleep. 

He checks his notification, and freezes, under the judgemental eye of the courgettes on the shelf in front of him. 

amazingphil just posted a photo

Dan swipes the screen carefully, his heart in his mouth. How is he going to handle seeing this man, again, after everything that's occurred? He holds his breath, picturing the slow steps Phil made towards him, the gradual descent of his plush, pink mouth, the glimmer in his round, blue eyes...

The photo flashes up, and Dan's stomach twists in shock. His heart plunges to his knees, and he has to cling onto the fridge door for support. The photo is of Phil, and someone else. That someone else is recognisably Charlie Hickory, the man Phil had brought with him the first time they met. 

They're kissing. 

Hey guys! Sorry for the lack of posts, as you can see I've been kind of busy ;) back to normal uploads now, I promise!! xx

As his eyes sting with white hot jealousy, Dan realises just how deeply he's stupidly, ignorantly allowed himself to wade into this swamp of yearning for a guy he could never, in a thousand years, hope to get. 

"Well, I'm a fucking twat," Dan sighs, and slams the fridge door. 

(Part 3!) 

[makku-ruko]

I really feel the need to express this now. Um.

WHAT IS UP WITH SHIZU(Mariya) BEING SO SWEET????

I mean! She practically hasn’t changed! She’s just as angelic in her brother’s shoes. The only difference is the boyish exterior. She clasps her hands sweetly, is so polite and genuinely worried about people.

Now look at Mariya(Shizu💙). LEGIT what does this anime show it’s viewers??? He’s sadistic and mean-spirited. Narcissistic and vulgar. Not saying that that’s what boys are but that’s what HE is. (Not all there is to him either, he’s actually pretty nice (〃ω〃) )).

The angel and devil schtick clearly suits them.

Also Rindoh is always 👌🏽😤. And uuuh Kanae is practically a nonce =^=‘ I’m just realising it now as I’m rewatching...used to feel real bad for him.

BACK TO WHAT I WAS SAYING:

Yeah. But then, with all Mariya’s good acting skills, it’s possible that to everyone else, he’s just as sweet as Shizu portrays him.

What I don’t understand is the bullying. Shizu still gets her clothes stolen and such— she’s having such a rough time, I just have to wonder if Mariya suffered that too.. BUT LOOK AT HIM. Does this boy literally seem like the sort of person you could get away with bullying?? He’d bury you first before you could even touch him.

That said, there’s the backstory. How long have the twins been swapping for? Has it been long enough that they can conceal their identities just by acting a little off? Do people not really notice at all? I can understand in Mariya’s case- he practically doppels his sister but Shizu.. especially the voice...Mariya’s voice is way deeper. When they switch back, I wonder if he says he has a cold..

Speaking of! Excuse me- how come there’s so much on Ame no Kisaki and not enough on the other school?? I think there was only like one spinoff episode on Maria Holic Alive where you could kinda see what went on in there.. But I wanted to see how Shizu actually played her part. It’s so one-sided on how the girls live. I mean, alright, we got Kanako’s love interests (many many interests)... but like...the boys... is their life really not good enough for a comedy skit or two? =_=;

Don’t even get to see what Mariya looks like as himself. It’s the constant fanservice thing -3- I NEED TO KNOW IF WIG OR EXTENSIONS! And why couldn’t they end off the series with one scene to show who actually won the bet in the end! Ò0ó if it’s Mariya, I wanna see him all proud and grown up as the chairman of both schools- at least grant me that! >0<

[danfanciesphil]

L’Histoire Française (New Chapter)

Teacher AU (Part 10)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

(Part Six)

(Part Seven)

(Part Eight)

(Part Nine)

(Now Available on Ao3!)

“Sir, can you tell me how to conjugate verbs?”

“Hm?” Dan says, distracted.

He’s crouched beside a Year Eight student named Anna, a sweet young girl with a few learning disabilities. This period, he’s helping out in the Rainbow Rooms - a section of the school reserved for providing extra support to students that might need it. Anna suffers from Down Syndrome, and has dyslexia, so she’s somewhat of a regular here. Usually, aside from Phil’s classes, Dan’s absolute favourite lessons to assist in are these.

The kids here are all at different levels of progress, so their teacher is more of a supervisor than anything else. The students are told to get on with the work provided by teachers from their actual classes, and Dan and the other TA’s are asked to wander around the class and help with whatever they might need.

Soft, classical music is played to help concentration, and the classroom is decorated in soothing pastel colours, making it very aesthetically pleasing. Usually, these lessons pass by in a calm, tranquil breeze. Today however, Dan does not feel particularly relaxed. The Chopin playing is weaving under his skin, the sharp violin creeping beneath his fingernails, putting him on edge.

There’s a coloured-glass windchime rattling beside the open window, and the sound of the tinkling is making him cringe. He turns his attention to Anna’s workbook, trying to force himself to concentrate.

“I thought I’d remembered how to do it, but it’s confusing,” Anna says, sighing.

“Oh, right,” Dan says, refocusing. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

He reads over the page, not taking anything in, and then reads it again, tutting at himself.

“Right, so verbs - that’s just the term we use for ‘doing words’.”

Anna scoffs at him. “I know that. I’m not stupid, Mr Howell.”

Dan laughs, glancing at her annoyed expression. “I know, Anna, I’m sorry. I’m the nonce here, not you. I just need to spell it out for myself sometimes.”

“We’re gonna be here all day at this rate,” Anna says.

Dan laughs again. “Hopefully not. So, um, conjugating… well, I bet you’re doing it without even realising. Think of a verb.”

“Break,” Anna says, unexpectedly.

Dan blinks at her. “Break?”

“Yeah,” she giggles. “It’s break-time soon. It’s the first thing I thought of.”

“Well, break-time is a noun…” Dan says, mind already slipping back into a panic as he considers how close break-time really is, and all that it might entail.

“Yes,” Anna says, exasperated. “But break is a verb, too. To break a glass. To break into dance. To break a heart.”

Dan swallows. “Yep, um… okay. You’re right. As usual.”

Anna beams proudly. “It’s like I’m teaching you today, sir.”

“So, how would you conjugate the verb ‘break’ if you put the pronoun ‘he’ in front of it?”

“He breaks,” Anna says at once. “Ohhh, I get it.”

Dan nods, smiling weakly. “Try and put it in a sentence.”

“He breaks your heart.”

It’s like a slap to the face.

“Great,” Dan grits out. “Try and write a few sentences down.”

*

Dan thinks about getting coffee again, but he knows he’d just be stalling for time. He doesn’t need to be any more caffeinated for this, anyway. He walks slowly through the halls, urging a teacher to spot him and force him to do some menial task for the next twenty minutes.

He doesn’t even know what it is that he’s wanting to avoid, but his gut is telling him it’s nothing good.

As if fate specifically told everyone to leave Dan alone today, no teachers even spare him a glance. He’s left with the full twenty minutes of free time, which has not happened in days.

He finds himself outside of Phil’s classroom door far too soon.

He knocks out of politeness, and hears a familiar voice call, “Come in!”

He pushes open the door. Phil is sat at his desk, frowning at his sticker-covered laptop, open before him. There are no cat whiskers on his face, today. There’s nothing zany on the whiteboard. The classroom is actually rather mess-free, unusually.

“Hey,” Dan says. His voice is smaller than he means it to be.

Phil looks up at him, closing the lid of his laptop. “Hey.”

Dan shifts from foot to foot, feeling awkward. How is it that just yesterday he strolled in here full of pep and happiness, and let Phil kiss him against the closed classroom door?

“You wanted to talk-”

“How are you today?” Phil interrupts, voice strained. “I didn’t get to ask, earlier.”

“Um,” Dan says, thrown. “Fine. Well, I’m a bit…” Dan flaps his hand in the air, a demonstration of his inner turmoil. “Can you just tell me what John said to you this morning? Before I came in.”

Phil’s eyes are pained, as if he’s begging Dan not to ask. Dan kind of wants to listen to those eyes, to just stall for time and exchange pleasantries until the bell rings again and they have to postpone this talk until lunch.

But he can’t live with the anxiety, so he stares Phil down.

Phil sighs, relenting.

“Can you… sit down?”

Dan takes a deep breath, and closes the door behind him. He takes one of the student chairs and pulls it up to the desk, opposite Phil. It feels strange, to sit this way. It reminds him, weirdly, that Phil is technically his boss, which is a bizarre thought, considering he’s never really acted as superior to Dan.

Dan sits straight and tense, waiting for Phil to speak. He doesn’t, so Dan jumps in for him.

“We’re not going out tonight, are we?”

Phil reaches up and removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes. He slides them back on, and clears his throat, looking very much like he doesn’t want to reply.

He drags his eyes back up to Dan, tortured. It’s unexpected, when Phil reaches across the desk for his hand, but he slips his own into it anyway, helpless to refuse.

“We can’t,” Phil says at last. “I-I’m so sorry, Dan. This is all my fault.”

He trails off, eyes fixed on their joined hands.

“What did John say?” Dan asks again, though he thinks, deep down, he already knows.

Phil sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “He said… apparently there’s a rumour going around amongst the students. Specifically the ones that were on the Paris trip.”

“Lemme guess, one student in particular?” Dan says, bitterness infiltrating his words.

He really will have to kill Jonah Frank at this rate.

“He didn’t say,” Phil says. “I don’t think it’s fair to blame any of them, though. They’re just kids.”

“So what’s the rumour?” Dan asks, tilting his chin up in defiance.

Phil looks at him, one eyebrow raised. “You know what it is, Dan.”

Dan just holds his gaze, needing this spelled out if he’s expected to accept it.

Phil sighs. “The rumour is that two of the teachers on that trip were… fraternising, let’s say.”

“Okay,” Dan says, brows knitting. “But why does it even matter? It wouldn’t affect anything. And we didn’t even-”

“It’s against school policy,” Phil interrupts, his cheeks a little pink. “That’s what John came to tell me this morning.”

Dan just stares at him, speechless. “It’s…”

“Yeah,” Phil says. He releases his hold on Dan’s hand, leaning back in his chair. He combs a hand through his hair. Dan flexes his fingers, feeling the absence of Phil’s at once. “There’s a rule about it. No romantic relationships between faculty members.”

“But I’m… I’m just a TA, I mean-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phil cuts in. “John made it clear. It could affect our performance, and the kids’ safety, apparently, if it were true.”

Dan swallows hard, tears of frustration leaping into his ducts. He feels helpless, like a child being disciplined for something he hasn’t even done wrong. How can it be fair that the Universe gave him Phil on a beautiful, gilded platter… and then snatched him back again, before they’d even gotten a chance to be together, properly?

“What do you mean, ‘if it were true’?”

“That’s the thing,” Phil says. “At the moment it’s just a rumour. Student claims can’t be substantiated without evidence. If they could, we wouldn’t have jobs anymore.”

“What?!” Dan exclaims. “We’d be fired over this? But… that’s not fair! We didn’t even know-”

“I knew.”

There’s a pause as Dan tries to comprehend this.

“You knew,” he repeats.

Phil puts his head in his hands. He peers at Dan through his fingers. “Yes.”

Dan scrapes his chair backwards, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. He wants to run out of here, to find some fresh air and gulp down lungfuls of it, but at the same time he doesn’t want to be away from Phil.

“Dan, please understand,” Phil begs, leaning across the desk towards him. “I knew about the rule, but I didn’t think… at first I just thought it was harmless flirting, and that I wouldn’t let it go any further, but then you came to my house, and you kept being so sweet… and then you said all that stuff to me on the boat, and I just… I snapped. I couldn’t take it, I had to kiss you, to show you that it wasn’t just you, y’know?”

Dan stares at him, shell-shocked. How can something as simple as an unrequited crush have suddenly become so horribly complicated?

“You could’ve told me,” Dan says after a minute, his mind whirling. “At the very least, you could have told me the risk. Maybe then we’d have hidden it better.”

“It’s no use, Dan,” Phil says, his voice desperately sad. He’s probably been over this in his mind a hundred times already. “By the time we… y’know… it was already too late. The kids had already made up their minds about what they wanted to think. After that night on the boat, I woke up in your bed, and you were still sleeping next to me. You had this sweet little smile on your face. And I just lay next to you and tried and tried to think of how we could make it work. I thought maybe John might overlook it because we’re friends, or that you being a TA rather than a teacher might change things, but it didn’t.”

“So that’s it, then,” Dan surmises, nodding blankly. A numbness is spreading across his skin, ice cold. “There are no options for us. Apart from one.”

“I’ve been racking my brain ever since we got home,” Phil confesses. “I thought maybe I could….” he sighs, shaking his head. “John isn’t sure of anything yet. He’s just suspicious because of what the kids are saying. We can still keep our jobs, as long as we…”

His sentence trails off, but it’s all too clear what he means.

As long as we end it now.

Whatever it was.

“I’ll quit my job,” Dan declares, eyes shining with defiance. “I never wanted it anyway, I only applied here as a last resort-”

Phil is already shaking his head. “You can’t do that, Dan. You don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s the middle of the school year, no other schools will take you. And you need the money. Not to mention, the kids need you.”

Dan scoffs at this last objection, but slumps in his chair, knowing the rest to be true. If he quit this job, he’d be penniless and jobless. His rent is due soon, and he’s only just going to be able to scrape by as it is. Paris, whilst free on travel and accommodation, was not cheap.

“This isn’t fair,” Dan whispers, looking up at the ceiling to try and prevent the tears from coming. “I just got you.”

Phil presses his lips together. “If I could do something to change it, I would.” He draws his hands to his lap. “Anything. I’d do anything.”

“I almost wish you’d never kissed me at all,” Dan says.

Phil looks at him like he’s been punched, and Dan wants to hoover the words back up.

“Almost,” Dan reiterates, his voice weak.

*

For once, Dan is glad he doesn’t have any classes with Phil on Wednesdays. He spends the rest of his day in a daze, barely able to function, let alone assist classes particularly well. In his fourth period he has Jonah for IT, but he avoids him, sticking by a student struggling with Excel on the other side of the class.

As the class files out, Jonah approaches him.

“Are you pissed at me or somethin’, sir?”

“Don’t be silly, Jonah,” Dan says, not looking him in the eye.

I don’t think it’s fair to blame any of them, Phil had said. They’re just kids.

“You usually say hello to me,” Jonah points out. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“I have to go, actually,” Dan says. It probably isn’t the best way to handle the situation, but he can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him break down in tears. “See you next class.”

He can feel Jonah staring after him as he hurries out of the classroom.

*

There is one staff bathroom in the school, located just off the staffroom itself. It’s unisex, with three cubicles and three sinks. There is hardly ever anyone in it, and Dan doesn’t really know why. He thinks it might be because the caretakers only restock the soap and toilet paper infrequently. More likely though, it’s just because the staff tend to forget it’s there. The school has four other sets of student toilets, two on each floor. Most of them are probably a lot nearer to teachers’ classrooms, so they don’t need to trek down to the staffroom to relieve themselves.

Dan has a lot of time to think about all this, huddled in the farthest stall of the empty staffroom toilet for a full hour at lunch time. Nobody comes in for the entire time he’s there, and he’s incredibly thankful, because if they did, he’d have to explain why he’s been curled up in here all this time, not to mention his red, splotchy face.

He just needed to let it out, he’d told himself when he first snuck in here, one hour ago. Just a quick cry, and then back to work.

As it turns out, this was a foolish decision on his part. As soon as the cubicle door shut, Dan had burst into noisy sobs. His knees jellified beneath him, and he’d slipped to the ground.

The thoughts attacked him in their thousands. Every single naive little fantasy he’d conjured up over the past couple of days wormed its way into Dan’s head, only to be smashed to pieces by the reverberating gong-noise of Phil’s voice saying: ‘We can’t do this.’

He and Phil, walking Buffy through the park on a summer afternoon, holding hands as she skipped around their feet.

He and Phil, snuggled on his sofa, watching old anime classics and kissing in the bits they’ve seen a thousand times.

He and Phil, hot and feverish, tangled in the sheets of Dan’s bed, trying to be quiet and failing miserably.

He and Phil, sending each other silly texts during their work days, sappy messages about how much they miss each other, even though they’re right down the hall.

All of these scenarios, the thousands that Dan has created in his head since he met Phil - they’re all gone. Shattered into a million shards by a stupid rumour, an even stupider rule, and then blown away in a gust of wind.

It’s crazy, Dan thinks, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He’s reacting as if they’d been together for years. In reality, Phil was never even his to start with.

What did they have, that’s lost, really? A stolen kiss on a riverboat, fumbling and cold. A gropey make out session on a hard single bed. Some flirting and blushing, acting like the schoolkids they were supposed to be looking after. Another kiss, pressed against a closed classroom door.

Fragments of something that turned into nothing. A fleeting romance, killed by the bureaucratic system within which they both found one another. It’s nonsensical, to be so upset by something that never even was.

Not bothered with sense in the slightest, his heart aches.

The worst part is that Dan is going to have to find a way to carry on. He will have to walk the same halls as Phil, every day. He’ll have to help Phil in class twice a week, and let the cheeky comments the students make slide off his back like it doesn’t affect him. He’ll see Phil making coffee in the staffroom, or buying secret cookies at lunch.  

Even thinking of Phil is enough to make Dan’s heart pang. It’s enough to bring more tears to his eyes. How can he be expected to cope, seeing him so often, for real, in the weeks, months ahead?

It occurs to Dan, as the bell rings, that one lunch hour is simply not enough time to deal with the emotions rampaging in his poor, stricken head.

*

“Dan, do you want in on the Dominos order?”

Teddy’s voice is muffled through the closed door of Dan’s bedroom, and even more so by the covers pulled over Dan’s head. He lifts them off briefly, pausing his episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“No, thanks.”

There’s silence then, so Dan turns back to his laptop, un-pausing it.

“Are you alright in there?” Teddy calls, forcing Dan to pause Buffy again. “You’re not sick are you?”

“I’m fine, Teddy.”

“I could bring you some soup, or-”

“I said I’m fine,” Dan shouts, hurling a pillow at the door.

“Alright, jeez.” Teddy says. “And I thought Ty was the drama queen in this house.”

He hears footsteps retreating, and he sighs. Buffy stares at him out of the screen, fearsome and beautiful. Her wooden stake is raised at shoulder height, ready to strike and kill.

“Must be nice to have something to stab whenever you need it,” Dan mutters to himself, and presses the space-bar.

He’s watched seven episodes already since he got in. That must be some kind of record. It’s been an okay distraction, as things go, but he can’t help being reminded of Phil, just because it’s his favourite.

He hasn’t eaten anything since this morning, but the thought of food is making him queasy, so he’s ignoring the fact he probably should. Even Dominos isn’t enough to tempt him.

Just as Buffy drives her stake into the heart of the third vampire this episode, Dan’s phone buzzes, lost somewhere in his duvet cocoon. He roots around for it, and brings it up to his face to see.

Phil *video file*

Dan frowns at his screen, his heart skipping when he reads the name. He opens his messages.

The video Phil has sent him is a link to a Vine, uploaded onto YouTube. He clicks it, curious, and watches a six second clip of a corgi twerking to Snoop Dogg’s ‘Wiggle’. He snorts with laughter, not expecting it, and clicks back onto his messages with Phil.

Dan r u looking at dog vines when u should be lesson planning again

Just before he hits send, his thumb hovers above the screen, his mind catching him. Exchanging witty banter with Phil over text is not going to make this situation any easier. Perhaps the best thing to do is just ignore it and move on.

He hits send.

“I have no self control,” Dan says aloud, groaning.

Phil ...no

Phil *video file*

This time it’s a baby sloth falling out of a tree. It lands in a pile of moss, unhurt, blinking in surprise. Dan giggles to himself beneath the darkness of his duvet.

Dan Stop texting me and get back to work

Phil but i miss you

The smile slips off Dan’s face.

Dan u cant say that to me

Phil sorry

Not knowing how to respond, Dan just locks his phone, placing it to one side as Willow and Xander flip through some ancient lore. The phone whispers to him, begging him to text again, but he stays strong, though it kills him a little.

Phil what are you doing? o.o

Dan srsly phil if u wanna break this off u cant send me cute texts

Dan its too hard as it is

Dan im already gonna have to see you every day and pretend like im not miserable

Phil you’re miserable?

Dan of course i am

Phil me too.

Phil *video file*

Phil that might be the actual reason im looking at cute animal vines

Dan is it working?

Phil no :(

Dan clicks the link Phil sent him with a sigh. It’s a video of a Pomeranian in a party hat, scoffing a cake with the words ‘Happy Birthday Pom Pom’ written on the top. Its cute little face is covered in white frosting.

Dan tht dog looks a bit like Buffy

Dan mayb u should turn her into a vine star

Phil vine is dead dan

Phil and buffy says she’s too good for vine anyway

Dan hahaha. tell buffy i miss her

Phil buffy misses you too.

There’s a stinging sensation in Dan’s left eye. He can feel a lump positioning itself in the middle of his throat. Dan rolls onto his back then, his right hand coming up to ghost over the bruise at the base of his neck.

It’s all he has left of Phil now. In a few weeks, it’ll have faded, and then what will he have to remind himself that this was real? A few half-faded memories? A couple of texts?

It’s not enough, he thinks, a tear leaking out of his duct. It slides down his temple, splashing onto the pillow behind his skull.

His phone buzzes again.

Phil *picture message*

Dan opens it warily. As the image flashes up, he lets out a pained little noise.

The photo is of Phil, in his muppet pyjama trousers and a black Pink Floyd t-shirt. He’s got Buffy under one arm, and she’s licking his face, making him laugh. His other hand is taking the photo.

He looks so soft, so homely. He looks just as Dan dreamed he would, in the fantasies where he and Phil lounge around his pretty, colourful house together, in casual clothes or pyjamas, Buffy clambering over their laps.

Dan a low blow phil

Phil Buffy insisted on sending u a selfie

Phil i just helped her

Dan buffy is such a tease

Dan she looks very cute in that photo

Dan i really really wish she was here

Phil she wishes that too.

*

On Thursday morning, Dan is sitting at his own kitchen table, sipping coffee and debating whether to call in sick to work. He’s got around fifteen minutes still, before he has to walk to catch his bus. It’s not very often that he isn’t rushing to get out of the door, but he woke up early and his anxious mind wouldn’t let him get back to sleep.

He takes another sip of coffee, staring at his phone.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be that suspicious, if he were ‘sick’ suddenly. John might be a little annoyed, as he didn’t work Monday either, because they were coming back from Paris.

At that moment, Tyler strolls into the room, immaculate and pristine in his navy suit. He looks at Dan in surprise, walking to the fruit bowl to grab an apple.

“Dan!” He says brightly. “You’re up early.”

Dan just nods slowly, still thinking.

Tyler takes a bite of the apple, leaning against the counter. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Dan says distractedly.

“It’s just, usually you’re tearing around the house at this time, looking for your other sock, or a tie, screaming at me that you’re gonna miss your-”

“Look, I’m up on time for once, okay?” Dan snaps. “No need to alert the media, I’m not always a total fucking mess, you know.”

Tyler stops chewing, eyes wide. He lets out a low whistle. “Fucking hell, no need to bite my head off.”

Dan shuts his eyes, breathing out slowly. He can feel the irritation sitting beneath his skin, but he shoves it down as best he can.

“Sorry,” he grits out, scraping his chair backwards. “We can’t all be morning people.”

He throws the remainder of his coffee down the sink, splashing it everywhere. Tyler jumps back from the spray, looking at his suit jacket in alarm.

“What’s up with you, Dan?” Tyler asks, sounding a little annoyed. “I thought you were on cloud fucking nine at the moment. Why are you being such a twat to us?”

Dan just grabs a cloth, wiping up the coffee he just splashed everywhere, his teeth clamped shut.

“Dan, if you don’t tell me what’s up your ass, I’ll-”

“What?” Dan asks, spinning round to glare at him. “You’ll annoy me to death? You do that just fine anyway.”

Tyler looks momentarily angry, but it passes quickly. He places the apple to one side, his expression melting into one of sympathy.

“It’s hot teacher, isn’t it,” he surmises, his voice filled with pity. “Did something happen?”

Dan wants to shout at him. He wants to yell that it’s none of his fucking business, and that he should butt his big head out of it. Instead, he opens his mouth to scream, and instead starts to cry.

He takes one step and falls straight into Tyler’s chest, sniffling. Tyler holds him readily, not hesitating for a moment, his arms coming round Dan’s back.

“Aw, Dan, love,” Tyler says softly. “You’re gonna get my suit all damp.”

“You can stand one day of looking not-perfect, Ty,” Dan says, sniffling.

“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dan sighs, leaning away from him. Tyler’s arm stays on his back, rubbing lightly. “It’s over, that’s all.”

“I don’t understand,” Tyler says. “I thought you were so into one another?”

Dan shrugs, checking his watch. “Things got in the way.”

“Things?” Tyler asks, confused. “I don’t-”

“Look, Ty, thanks for being nice, but I have to go.”

“Sweetie, if you need to talk about this-”

“Yeah, um, later,” Dan says vaguely. “I’ve got to catch my bus.”

“Wait,” Tyler calls, just as Dan is about to bolt out of the door. He pauses, turning back, despite really wanting to flee this conversation. “Don’t you have a class with him today?”

Dan nods dejectedly. “Third period.”

“Shit,” Tyler says, pitying. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

*

The one time Dan wants his lessons to stretch on, they go double speed. Mercifully, he’s given a load of copying to do for Mr Richstein during break-time, so he doesn’t see Phil all morning. But all too soon, it’s 10:55am, and he has nothing to do except make his way down the corridors to Classroom Nine.

He drags his feet and dawdles, but it doesn’t make any difference. He ends up there in no time, hovering outside the partly open door. This time, he doesn’t even bother knocking.

Phil is, for some reason, rolling out an enormous sheet of white paper across the length of the floor. It reaches from wall to wall, covering the entire classroom. He’s pushed all the tables and chairs to the edges of the room, leaving a huge gap in the middle for it.

As Dan edges inside, Phil looks up, his glasses slipped a little way down his nose. “Oh,” he says. “Hi.”

“I’m scheduled to be here,” Dan blurts out. “Today. At eleven. To assist.”

Phil smiles at him. “I know.”

Dan swallows, nodding. “Cool.”

Phil stands up then, stepping on tiptoes to the edge of the paper. “Um, maybe we should take our shoes off.”

“Right,” Dan says, obeying immediately. It’s only as he’s untying his second pair of laces, one hand braced against the wall, that he thinks to ask why. “Uh, any reason I’m getting my feet out?”

Phil chuckles at him, pulling off his own shoes. “So we don’t make any marks on the paper.”

“Right,” Dan says again. “God forbid.”

Phil laughs again. “I’d tell you what we’re doing today, but-”

“But you want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh no,” Phil says, standing up in just his socks. “I’m becoming predictable.”

“Never,” Dan replies, honestly.

There’s an awkward pause, and Dan uses it to find somewhere to stow his shoes for the next hour.

“By the way,” Phil tells him conversationally. “The timetable’s changed a little. We’ve got the Year Nine’s today.”

Dan looks up in shock. “What?”

“Yeah,” Phil shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Because they missed their History class on Monday due to the trip. So I switched with Mr Hawkins. He’s taking the Year Eight’s for Religious Studies, and I’m getting the Year Nine lot for this period. Just for this week, obviously.”

“But… but why?” Dan asks, a swell of panic rising in his chest as he considers the idea that they students from the Paris trip - the very students that blew up a very promising budding relationship with their cruel gossip - are going to be here in less than two minutes.

“Well, we just thought it was more important that they have the lesson today,” Phil shrugs, eyeing Dan confusedly. “They’ve got their mock GCSE’s coming up after all… and… Dan, are you okay?”

Dan is not okay. He’s struggling to remain calm.

“I just… didn’t realise.”

Phil watches him carefully, then steps onto the paper on the floor, as if he’s about to walk over.

“They won’t say anything, Dan,” Phil says quietly, dithering in the middle of the paper. “It will be okay.”

Dan meets his gaze, badly wanting to believe that. “How do you know?”

Before Phil can reply, three girls - Savannah, Caoibhe, and Gaeul all walk in, giggling about something. They stop short at the sight of the paper across the floor, looking at Phil for guidance.

“Shoes off, girls!” Phil cries, all seriousness wiped from his expression. “We’re having a socks-only lesson today.”

The girls laugh, slipping off their ankle boots and ballet pumps, then walking carefully across the paper to place them neatly at the side of the room with their bags. As the others file through the door, they follow suit, each bringing another bubble of excitement to the atmosphere.

Dan, perched up on one of the tables at the side of the class, just watches anxiously, waving and smiling as best he can at the familiar faces.

“Hi, sir!” They call brightly, sensing nothing amiss.

“Hey, Mr Howell, how’re you?”

“Bonjour, Mr Howell!”

Finally, Jonah bowls through, grinning and calling his greeting to Mr Lester, like nothing is wrong, like he hasn’t destroyed everything with his carelessness.

Dan hides a scowl, and tries to tell himself to remain professional.

Once everyone is inside, their shoes removed, they sit cross-legged on the large blank canvas beneath them, and Phil introduces the class. They’re going to be creating a mural, based around the Paris trip. Everyone will draw their favourite memory, and relate it to a piece of Parisian history from the time period they’ve been focusing on. They can draw anything, as long as it’s relevant and appropriate.

Penises, Phil reminds the class, are not permitted.

The class get to work at once, grabbing the coloured pencils, chalks, and pens Phil hands out in big tubs. They talk amongst themselves, busy creating their masterpieces, so Dan hops down to wander through them all, peering at their drawings.

“Sir, you’ll smudge my design!” Katie complains, batting at Dan’s socked foot as he walks by her.

“Oops, sorry,” he says, stepping backwards.

“Sir, you’re walking on my Eiffel Tower!” Matthew cries.

Dan apologises profusely, and makes his way quickly to the edge of the class, where Phil’s desk is, trying to avoid any more disasters. Phil giggles at him, perched on the edge of his desk like a deity overlooking his Kingdom.

“Perhaps you should design something for the mural too, Mr Howell,” Phil suggests, holding out an array of pencils to him.

Dan gives him a withering look. “I knew this was all a ploy to get me to draw again.”

Phil chuckles. “Told you I’m becoming predictable.”

Dan sighs, rolling his eyes, and takes a few of the pencils from his hand, trying not to focus on the way his fingers drag over Phil’s.

“What do I draw, then?”

“What’s your favourite memory from the trip?” Phil asks.

Seconds after the question leaves his mouth, he seems to realise how loaded it is, and blushes, looking away.

Dan doesn’t look at him either, trying to focus on coming up with literally anything remotely appropriate to draw.

“As if you need to ask him that, sir,” Jonah calls to Phil, smirking.

Dan fixes him with a glare. “That’s enough, Jonah.”

“Aw, lay off, sir,” Jonah replies, glaring right back at him. “I’m only sayin’ what everyone already knows. Your favourite memory of Paris isn’t gonna be the fuckin’ Champs-Elysee is it?”

“I mean it, Jonah,” Dan says, standing up straighter. “Pipe down.”

“How exactly are you gonna draw you and Lester suckin’ face, anyway?” Jonah asks, chin jutting out defiantly. “Chalk and charcoal?”

“I said that’s enough!” Dan shouts.

“Dan,” Phil says softly, his voice a warning. Dan ignores him.

“For God’s sake, Jonah, it’s not appropriate for you to make those kind of comments!”

A slow smirk spreads over Jonah’s face. “Struck a nerve did I, sir?”

“Jonah, I am warning you-”

“Oh go blub to your boyfriend about it,” Jonah says, rolling his eyes.

The rest of the class have stopped drawing now. They’ve stopped their chattering too, nineteen pairs of eyes fixed on Dan and Jonah, their mouths open in shock.

Dan grits his teeth. He can already feel the anger rushing through his bloodstream, churned up by Jonah’s insolent behaviour. He’s not going to be able to choke it down this time.

“Get out,” he snarls. Jonah stares in surprise.

“What?”

“I said get out of this classroom, Jonah Frank.”

“Dan,” Phil hisses at him, one hand on Dan’s arm. Dan pulls free of him, furious. “Dan, you can’t just-”

Dan stalks over to the door then, stamping over several students’ drawings as he goes, though nobody says a word. He pulls open the door, fixes Jonah with a hard stare, and gestures to the hall outside.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“Sir, can he do this?” Jonah asks, turning his attention to Phil.

Phil swallows, turning to Jonah. “Mr Howell is just as much of a superior to you as I am, Jonah. If he feels you are misbehaving, he can discipline you however he sees fit.”

“So, you agree wiv’im?” Jonah asks, cross now. He gets to his feet, throwing a piece of chalk down in anger.

“Yes,” Phil says, though he doesn’t seem happy about it. “Do as he says, Jonah.”

“This is bullshit, an’ all,” Jonah growls, but stalks through the open door into the hallway, pulling it closed behind him.

“Wait out there, Jonah!” Dan calls.

“Alright everyone,” Phil says weakly. “Back to work.”

Reluctantly, the kids return to their drawings, whispering quietly. Dan doesn’t need to wonder what they’re all saying. He passes a hand over his face, wondering what the fuck he’s doing.

As Dan looks up, he notices Phil starting to pick his way through the kids towards him, and swallows, sensing the incoming storm. Phil is calm, aiming strained smiles and encouraging comments at the students, but as soon as he gets close enough, he takes Dan by the arm. Dan just lets it happen, allowing himself to be led without a struggle to the very edge of the classroom, as far from the students’ earshot as possible.

He tries to brace himself for a telling off, and has a quiet word with his own body that no matter how stern and teacher-y Phil gets with him, he is by no means allowed to get aroused by it.

“Look, Phil, he was being disrespectful,” Dan says immediately, wanting to try to get his word in first. “He’s been saying that shit for way too long, it’s not appropriate-”

“Dan, do not even try to tell me that this wasn’t a personal vendetta against one individual.”

Dan shuts up, sighing. “He had it coming.”

Phil groans in exasperation. “Dan, you have to see how bad this is. You can’t just send students out of my class without telling me.”

“You said you agreed!”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Phil asks, his voice low so the others won’t hear. “Say you were wrong? Undermine you in front of the whole class?”

“But I’m not wrong!” Dan fires back, frustrated. “You know his behaviour is inappropriate, I’m only doing what you should have done weeks ago-”

“Do not tell me how to do my job, Dan.”

Dan blinks at him, taken aback by the harshness of his tone. Phil has never spoken to him so sternly before. His serious expression is gone in a flash, but it doesn’t matter. It will stick in Dan’s mind forever, probably.

“Fine, whatever, I’ll go and get him back in.”

Phil sighs, catching Dan’s wrist as he starts to head for the door. He drops it quickly, remembering where they are. Dan feels the fingers slip over his skin, and winces.

“No, look,” Phil starts. “It’s fine. It’s done now. I’ll go and speak to him, tell him not to say that stuff anymore.” Phil looks heavenward. “Not that I have any idea how to begin that conversation…”

“I’ll do it,” Dan says softly. “This is my mess. I’ll clear it up.”

Phil pauses, considering. He chews his lip. “Okay. But… can you do me a favour?”

“Anything,” Dan says, too quickly. He curses himself for saying it, eyes slipping shut.

“Just… don’t be too harsh on him,” Phil says, his voice a little croaky again. “He’s not a bad kid. He just teases people. But it’s a sign of affection.”

Dan looks at Phil, a realisation dawning over him. “I screwed up the rapport you’ve built with the most troubled kid in school, didn’t I?”

Phil shrugs, tiredly. “I hope not.”

(Part 11!)