#anymore. not to mention that this keyboard drawer is a little broken; and actually falls out a little if I move it wrong

[neganium]

you know, I kind of miss my neo-atom ask blog. you know, the one based off of that one arc in the manga that was never fully translated into English, but was set after Atom flew into the sun at the end of the original series. unfortunately I don't really remember all of the lore for that premise, or even for the blog itself; I never got to finish the last ask on it bc the file was on the laptop, and idk if it's recoverable, or if it even still exists after what I tried to do to fix it (which was a reset to before I updated the OS, p much; ig it doesn't work the same way on Kubuntu, or maybe even the laptop itself). I had vague ideas of what I wanted to do with it, plot-wise; since time travel was a core component to the original story, and both interplanetary and interdimensional travel are not only canon to the original series as a whole, but conceptually can tie into time-travel pretty well if something fucks up bad enough (space-time continuum, I believe they call it), it was going to heavily revolve around crossover plots. basically, it was not unlike my Cobalt isekai concept, except with fewer constant companions (or at least, I think so, anyways), and with an actual, concrete reason as to why this was happening, and to what end.

unfortunately, as I said, I can't remember all of the more salient plot points for that arc (I'd probably change some of them, anyways, but I still gotta know them first), nor can I remember the canonical appearances of the relevant characters (Atom's canon colorscheme, tho much as in the old posts of the blog I'd probably tweak or alter some of that anyhow; and Spica's, which I feel like was drastically different from what I was originally expecting for some reason- I learned these from images of rare vinyl toys I found a picture of online once, which also featured a third character that I'm not sure is related to their story or not, but was, I think, a grey anthro rabbit-like character in a spacesuit sort of getup). I think I might have some of these pictures buried on my blog somewhere, tho, either the main or the sideblog, so I might go looking for it some time.

part of this is relevant bc I was asked to draw a portrait of Atom, but I didn't like what I initially put down. I might still finish him, anyways, since I did still put in a lot of work; but I was thinking of ideas to make a better one, and this version of Atom came to mind. the problem is that Atom is not a terribly detailed character, and I'm not very good at adding detail to his design, like some people are. also, I'm kind of bad at drawing human-shaped characters, anyways...

[lovemesomesurveys]

Don’t you just love the smell of Hollister and Abercrombie and Fitch? I actually did used to like it. 

When a bee is coming close to you, do you stand still or run away? I back away somewhat quickly, but try not to make a big show of it because I know it’s advised to be calm, but I see a bee and I freak. 

Are you self conscious about wearing a bathing suit? Absolutely, so I don’t wear one. 

Do you make reminders for important things you need to remember? Yeah, I make great use of the calendar, notes, and reminder apps on my phone.

If you had to play one sport for a living, what would it be? Gah, that would not work for me. I’m not athletic at all and I have zero interest in sports.

Was the last person you texted single? No, he’s with my mom.

Do you get jealous easily? No. I haven’t felt jealous in a long time.  What are you currently waiting for? Nothing at the moment.

Do you think more about the past, present, or future? I dwell in the past too much and I’m always stressing and worrying about present stuff. 

Is there anybody you wish you could be spending time with right now? No.

Who were the last people you saw besides family? Other patients at my doctor’s office, the receptionist, the nurses, and my doctor.

Which of your friends lives closest to you? No friends.

How do you feel about Diet Dr Pepper? I like it.

Do you ever work out? No. I should be lifting a light weight at least everyday. My upper body strength is so bad now.

Do you go to the tanning bed on a regular basis? I’ve never been to a tanning salon and have no interest in doing so.

Does your bedroom need cleaning? I need to organize some stuff and put some things away.

Vanilla or chocolate? Vanilla.

Pretty Woman or Sixteen Candles? Sixteen Candles.

Do you ever hang out with someone of the opposite sex? My dad and brother.

Are you comfortable with your height? I wish I was a little taller. 

Anything on your walls? Yeah, a few giraffe paintings, a a couple beach ones, a couple calendars, a bulletin board, a marker board, and a huge Swedish flag.

What do you bite more, your tongue, lip, or cheek? I’m constantly biting and picking at my lips. :/

What was the last non-alcoholic beverage you had? Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink.

Do you have a box where you keep all your important things? I have boxes and drawers with stuff like that. 

How many times have you dyed your hair? Numerous times since I was 13.

Are any of your friends taller than you? Everyone is taller than me except for small children. 

Ever liked someone whose name started with a B? I don’t think so.

Have you ever been on a motorcycle? I’ve ridden on the back of one with my dad when I was a kid.

Do you have feelings for anyone? Not the romantic kind.

Name something great that happened today: It’s only 530AM, nothing much has happened. 

How did you feel when you woke up today? I haven’t gone to bed yet, but I’m willing to bet I’ll wake up feeling like a zombie like I always do.

Do you use Twitter? I do.

What did you have for dinner yesterday? Wingstop.

What kind of position are you in at the moment? I’m sitting on my bed.

Furthest away from home you have ever been? When I went to Atlanta, Georgia.

What colour pants/skirt/etc are you currently wearing? I’m wearing blue Adidas leggings. 

When was the last time you drank water? Like an hour ago.

Have you ever fallen asleep with the last person you kissed? No.

Do you answer the phones at your job? I don’t have a job.

What’s your ring tone? One of the ones that come with the phone.

What were you doing at 12 AM last night? I was doing surveys.

Do you want to fix anything with anyone? Not at this time.

Do you have trust issues? No really. I have a hard time with expressing myself and opening up to others, but it’s not so much a matter of trust.

Do you believe everything happens for a reason? Yes.

Are you going to have a good night? My night has been okay.

Have you ever given up on someone and then went back to them? Yes.

Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night? Well no, cause I don’t even go to bed until like 7 or 8AM.

What shows do you watch? I watch a lot of different shows.

What’s wrong with you right now? Just blah as usual.

Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? Absolutely. 

What’s your relationship with the person you last texted? He’s my dad.

Are you looking forward to anything? No.

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? My first ex told me I did.

Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes? Yes.

Does anyone disgust you? Myself.

Did you enjoy your weekend? It’s just starting.

Have you argued with anyone today? No.

Your enemy is at your doorstep begging for forgiveness, what would you do? I don’t have any enemies, thankfully.

Has someone had their arms around you in the past 7 days? To give me a hug, yeah.

Dare you to detail why you kissed the last person you kissed? We just wanted to? I never understand this question.

Are you afraid of losing the last person you talked to? One of my biggest fears is my loved ones passing away. Which is obviously inevitable, but still. 

What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? I don’t remember. My mind wanders off and thinks about random things.

When’s the last time you had a headache? A few days ago.

Is anyone else in the room with you? Nope.

Who was the last person you had a conversation with on the phone? My mom.

Does anyone call you babe? No.

Is there anything you are craving right now? Not at this moment.

What was the first thing you thought of this morning? I haven’t gone to bed yet, but I always check the time when I first get up.

Are you satisfied with what you currently have in life? I am appreciative of the good things, but there’s so much I’d like to change and I’m unhappy with. 

What were you doing at 7:00 AM? It’s 5:56AM, so I’m sure I’ll still be awake in like an hour. Sigh.

How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Like 4ish. 

Do you know anyone who has been arrested? Yes.

Think back to the last person you kissed, how many times have you laughed with them? Uhh, countless times. How do you even count that? Not to mention, he was always making me laugh.

How do you feel about your hair right now? I hate it. It needs to be dyed so bad, it could use a trim, and a style would be nice. I don’t do anything with it besides throw it up in a messy bun. 

When you were in elementary school, did you change best friends a lot? Yeah. When I was a kid “best friend” was a term thrown around quite loosely.  

Last thing you touched not computer-related? My phone.

Have you ever suspected anyone of cheating on you? No.

Does the song you’re currently listening to remind you of anyone specific? I’m not listening to music.

Who was the last person to give you a ride somewhere? My mom.

When and where was the last time you took a picture of yourself? A few weeks ago in the car.

Have you ever been scolded by a mall cop? No.

How often do you catch yourself daydreaming? A lot.

What’s your favorite thing to think about as you’re falling asleep? I don’t get much say in that.

Is there anything that you want to do, but won’t because you’re too afraid? There’s a lot of things.

Who gets up the earliest in your household? The latest? My dad gets up the earliest. He’s off on the weekends and he still gets up at like 5AM for some reason. The latest is definitely me. 

Have you ever had a pet walk across your keyboard while you were typing? No, my doggos have always been too big to do that.

You’re going to your favorite foreign country; what landmarks do you go see? I just want to see everything and really experience Sweden.

What is the longest amount of time that you have spent away from your home? A few months during hospital stays.

Did the last movie you watched have any emotional effect on you? No.

What motivates you to go to school? I’m done with school, thankfully. I’ve been so unmotivated and without energy the past few years and I’m glad I finished school before that happened and I sunk into the hole I’ve been stuck in.

Are you more hyper and uptight, or laid back and relaxed? I’m never hyper and I definitely haven’t felt relaxed in a long time. I think to some people I’d appear laid back, but oh boy if they only knew. And honestly what appears be laid is me just feeling... flat. 

When was the last time you heard someone talking about you? I don’t know.

How did you pick out your last outfit? I just grabbed whatever.

When buying shoes, what do you look for in the product? For me it’s just about how they look. Comfort isn’t a factor for me as someone who has no feeling in their legs and feet. 

What happened to cause the last mess you made? I let some stuff build up. 

Are you embarrassed to bring people into your bedroom? I would be right now.

When was the last children’s birthday party you attended? A few years ago for one of my cousins. 

Are you good at reading other people’s body language? I think I am.

If you’re sick, do you go to school or do you stay home (usually)? I’m not in school anymore, but I mean for me it depended on how sick I felt. Of course now in the days of COVID you’re advised to stay home if you feel sick at all. Most schools, at least where I am, are all on Zoom now anyway, though.

Does chicken noodle soup really make you feel any better? I don’t feel it ever did anything for me.

What is one meal that you like to eat whilst sick? If I’m sick I usually don’t have much of an appetite, if one at all depending on how sick I am. I don’t eat much, but I’ll try to eat a little at least of something.

Think of the last survey you filled out; did you enjoy it? Sure.

Have you ever fed bread to ducks or geese? I did when I was a kid. I didn’t know you shouldn’t do that at the time.

Is it hard to imagine you were ever as small as a 1-2 year old? Yeah, that is weird to think about.

What set the tone for your mood today? It’s 6:22AM and right now I just feel tired.

Have you ever set out to ruin someone else’s day? No, that’s definitely not something I’d want to do.

The name of the last board game that you played? I don’t remember.

What was the last thing that you told yourself? That I would try to go to sleep a little earlier. ha.

Do you remember your D.A.R.E. officer’s name? I actually do.

Someone throws hot coffee on you; how do you react? Uh, wtf? Firstly, I’d react to the HOT coffee that I had thrown at me. That would be excruciatingly painful. I’ve accidentally spilled really hot coffee on myself before so I would know. So yeah, I’d feel the pain and shock from that and then I’d just be like wtf??? I’d be so confused and upset and most of all, furious. 

Is there a high school or college that you would rather be attending? I graduated college, I’m doneee.

Have you ever lived in an apartment or duplex home? A duplex.

Has anyone ever commented on your weight? Yes, I get comments a lot about how I’m too thin.

Where do you stand when it comes to sexual intercourse? Well, I’m a virgin, so.

Name a show from the 90’s that you miss? I still watch a lot of them to be honest.

Have you ever thought about joining the military? No. I couldn’t anyway even if I wanted to because of my physical disability.

When you were little, did you ever stare at disabled or “different” people? I was and am a disabled person and I’ve had to deal with people staring all my life because I’m in a wheelchair and hear kids ask their parents, “what’s wrong with her?”

Could the contents of your bedroom get you in any trouble? No.

Do weather patterns sometimes have an effect on your health? The heat definitely does. Ugh, I hate the summer. I do not do well with the heat.

If it snows a lot where you live, do you experience cabin fever? It doesn’t snow here. :(

How good are you at getting along with other people? I don’t have a problem with getting along with others.

Have you ever felt like you were going out of your mind? Oh yes.

Has anyone ever suggested that you might need “help”? Yes. And I agree. 

How do you respond to cheesy pick-up lines? No one has used a cheesy pickup line on me.

How was the service at the last restaurant you visited? I’m gonna answer this with takeout because ever since the pandemic hit last year I haven’t gone out to eat anywhere, but I get takeout all the time. Anyway, last night I got Wingstop and my brother realized when he got home they gave him the wrong order, so he had to drive back and it’s like a 15 minute drive there and back on the highway, so it’s not a quick, easy trip. He gets back and I realize they forgot my extra side of the lemon pepper sauce that I like to get, which wasn’t as big of a deal of course, but still annoying. I didn’t say anything about a small thing like that, but I was just annoyed with the whole situation and that I didn’t have that extra side of sauce to dip my wings in. It adds to what makes it good, ya know? I like my ranch and my extra sauce. I would have been even more upset if they forgot the ranch because their ranch is the best.

Are you ever jealous of happy couples? I feel a little envious sometimes cause I’d like to experience that. 

Describe a thought that is sticking with you today? My mind is a jumbled mess.

Lately, who has spent the most time on your mind? No one in particular. I’m more occupied with thoughts of things I’m dealing with, things I’m feeling, and things that are going on.

In a car: air conditioning, or roll the windows down? AC, for sure. Especially during the summer when it’s hot and miserable because rolling the windows down doesn’t do shit.

When was the last time you did anything to your playlist? I added songs to it like a month ago.

Is there a new song or band you’ve discovered? Not recently. I haven’t been listening to music recently.

What teacher gives you the most homework? --

Are you punctual? Yes. I hate being late.

Have you ever howled at the full moon? Uh, no.

Do you give any consideration to what’s said in your horoscope? I don’t even read it. I don’t believe in astrology.

[huphilpuffs]

flares

chapter: 31/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 4k (103k total) rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: As always, immense thanks to @obsessivelymoody for beta’ing!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

They settle into bed that night with no intention of going to sleep.

Dan’s laptop is open, resting on his thighs. Phil propped up two pillows against the wall for him to lean against, his back and neck still tender from the pressure point test Dr. Kissel performed. The duvet is draped across his lap, his toes sticking out from the end of it. 

Phil stares at the screen over his shoulder. Dan can feel the warm puffs of air from his breathing against his skin.

He types fibro mialgia into Google. 

Its response is Did you mean: Fibromyalgia, just enough to have a quiet breath rumbling between Dan’s ribs. 

He clicks on the first link, a webpage from the Mayo Clinic. He’s pretty sure that’s in America somewhere. It probably doesn’t much matter. The top of the page tells him it’s believed to amplify painful sensations by changing the way the brain processes pain. He thinks that’s what Dr. Kissel said. 

Dan’s not entirely sure what fucked up pain processing is supposed to feel like, but he thinks this is probably it.

The next paragraph is about trauma, about how it sometimes triggers fibromyalgia. Dan tries not to let the fact that he doesn’t relate make his insides twist too much. 

Phil must be able to tell, because he leans in close and whispers, “It says ‘sometimes’.”

The one after that includes a list of other conditions that may be related. Dan reads it once, twice, three times before his gaze lingers on the last two. His stomach goes tight. He doesn’t realize his fingertip’s tapping his computer until Phil reaches over to grab it, snagging one of Dan’s hands and drawing it into his lap.

He doesn’t ask what Dan’s staring at. It’s probably obvious. 

Dan’s spent years trying to convince himself he definitely wasn’t depressed, that definitely wasn’t his problem, and now it’s splashed across the page again in the clearest of sans serif fonts. Dr. Kissel didn’t mention that one. He wonders how much of his chart she’s read, if she knew it would make him feel like this.

He almost shuts the laptop and gives up on research. Maybe he doesn’t want to know after all.

But then Phil reaches over and scrolls down for him, leaving the list of symptoms lighting up Dan’s screen.

Everything after that is overwhelming in a different way. There’s a lot of symptoms. A lot of possible treatments. Dan’s never considered most of them. Massage therapy sounds incredibly unpleasant. Acupuncture, too. Getting enough sleep sounds so implausible that Dan actually laughs, too loud, too sharp. 

The next page on Google is a lot of the same. So is the third, and the fourth. 

Exercise is mentioned a lot. Dan’s joints ache at just the thought of trying to go out for a run, at the memory of how painful it was just to walk to class back at uni, of how sick he used to feel after gym class back in school.

There’s a lot they don’t know about fibromyalgia, he learns. There’s no cure, no definitive answer on why things hurt. There’s a bunch of studies that show little abnormalities that might cause it but none of them agree and none are conclusive and Dan doesn’t much care.

He knows, finally. And there’s some stuff they do know.

It’s not fatal. It’s never fatal. Dan reads that bit out loud, because Phil’s sitting next to him, gaze tripping across the page just a bit slower than Dan’s. Dr. Kissel already told them that more than once. The extra layer of reassurance makes Phil lean in close, his body pressed against Dan’s side.

He dusts a kiss to Dan’s bare shoulder, soft, loving. 

There was a time when Dan might have been terrified by the prospect of a lifelong condition with no cure and no potential to be let out of his misery. It’s still scary now, not knowing what to expect for any of his future. But giving this up isn’t really an option anymore.

Phil lets go of his hand to wrap his arm around Dan’s shoulders instead, leaning in close so his head rests right above Dan’s collarbone. 

“I’m glad you have an answer,” he says. His voice has gone low and gravelly. 

He sounds tired. And he has to work in the morning. And Dan suddenly feels bad for keeping him up for so long with a cycle of redundant articles that say the same little bit of information in slightly different ways. He closes his laptop, scrolled only halfway down the page. 

“You’re not gonna keep reading?”

“I can read tomorrow,” he says. “Apparently I need to focus on getting enough sleep.”

Phil chuckles. He pulls away just enough slip down the mattress until he’s lying down. Dan tosses the extra pillow onto the floor and rests his laptop precariously on the corner of his bedside table before doing the same. He reaches out, draping his arm across Phil’s stomach, cuddling up against his side.

He can’t handle the pressure against his back tonight. Phil doesn’t seem to mind.

His palm settles flat against Dan’s ribcage, head dipping down. Dan looks up to meet his mouth in a quick kiss goodnight.

When he pulls away, he’s smiling.

---

Dan dreams of being old that night. 

He’s sitting in a mostly empty room with white walls and a sofa. There’s a blanket draped over him and an ice pack sitting uselessly atop his head. It’s just like his life now, except when he looks down, his hands are wrinkled and spotted with age. 

He wakes up. The room is still dark, hardly a touch of light filtering through Phil’s curtains. Phil’s still sound asleep, snoring softly.

Dan’s brain is echoing his nan’s complaints about how achy her knees were, the ones he could relate to when he was only fourteen. 

He swallows, presses himself tighter against Phil’s side, and stares at the window until he falls back asleep.

---

His chest is tight when he wakes up in the morning.

Phil’s not in bed anymore. There’s a note on Dan’s bedside table telling him Phil’s already gone to work. It has a silly little smiley face drawn in the corner. Dan’s laptop has been moved to sit on the chest of drawers instead, more stable there than where he placed it last night.

He sinks back against his pillow once he’s spotted it. His breath comes out as a sigh, his hand coming up to rub hard at the line of his sternum, as though that will ease the pressure there.

His knees crack when his climbs out of bed. There’s still a tingling, radiating sort of pain where Dr. Kissel pressed against his body, all down his legs and up along his spine. Some of them feel swollen, but when he rubs at the back of his neck, there’s nothing there.

Dan grabs his laptop and changes his pants before moving to the lounge.

He turns to look back before he leaves, hand gripping the door frame to steady him. The duvet is ruppled on both sides, a giant ball of fluff where Dan’s feet were. There’s a pillow on the floor and two pressed close together at the head of the mattress. Dan’s phone charger rests on his bedside table, plugged into nothing. 

Something spasms in Dan’s chest.

It takes him a moment to realize it’s anxiety.

---

The kettle is half full of water on the kitchen counter. There’s a smoothie in the fridge with a straw already sticking out of it. Phil left the cereal box out, plastic bag half poking out the top of it, and the cupboard door open overhead. Dan closes it as he sips at his breakfast.

He doesn’t turn the TV on this morning.

He drags his computer onto his lap and opens the article he’d left half read last night. He doesn’t finish it. There’s other things on his mind this morning than symptom lists he’s already read and collections of advice that only seems half effective.

Working with fibromyalgia, is what he types into Google today.

The first link is to a WebMD article. Dan clicks it without thinking much.

People can work with this, is the first thing Dan learns. It makes his chest feel funny, something half relief and half not blooming there. Keep working, is what the article says, and Dan tries not to think about the day he handed his resignation to Sue, body aching so much just getting there had been a hassle.

He fails. 

He thinks about it for so long that his vision goes out of focus, the article sliding into double. It snaps back into place when he blinks and scrolls down to the next part, too many lists of too many questions to address way too many problems. 

The advice is … a lot. It’s flexible work hours and working from home, extra equipment at work and less tasks. It’s finding a job that’s not too stressful and lets you sleep in, and one where you don’t need to do manual labour but can also survive when your brain isn’t working right.

Right in the middle of it, there’s an ad for some pill that starts with, Does your penis curve when erect?

Dan laughs. It’s only then that he realizes his throat’s gone tight and his eyes are stinging. His fingers are shaking over the keyboard when he jams the down arrow to read the rest of the page. It takes him too many tries to stay steady enough to click the arrow bringing him to the next one. 

Can I get disability with fibromyalgia? is its header. 

Dan almost forgets how to breathe. He doesn’t read it. He doesn’t go back to Google. He closes Chrome entirely and slams his laptop shut and tells himself it’s because the advice was about American law and not because his stomach suddenly really doesn’t like the smoothie Phil made more him.

A tear rolls down his cheek.

He stares at the blank TV screen until it falls off the bottom of his chin.

---

The lounge is full of both their stuff.

There’s a PlayStation and a Wii on the TV cabinet, above neat shelves lined with a shared collection of games. There’s two DS chargers plugged into the wall. There’s a stack of DVDs by the door to the balcony, Dan’s piled on top of Phil’s from when he first moved in.

The blanket Phil got him is draped over the sofa. Decorations he had before Dan moved in are all laid out on the furniture and hanging on the walls. There’s a throw pillow that used to live on the sofa that now sits in the corner of the room.

Dan thinks too much about how none of his A-levels or GCSCs will ever be enough to get him a job that would give him any of the things on WebMD’s list. 

And then even more about all the horror stories he’s heard about people living on benefits.

And then, once his chest hurts and pressure is welling at his temples, about how he doesn’t really have a choice but to need one of them if his body’s not going to be fixed.

It’s not. Dan expected that. He tries not to care. Part of him doesn’t.  

But the other part of him reminds him that Phil’s parents are still paying his part of the rent, echoes his mum’s warnings about leeching off Phil until tears are welling in his eyes once again. It pictures the people back in Wokingham who told him he’d never go anywhere if Dan didn’t learn to deal with a little bit of pain.

His brain flashes a quick image of being back there.

He reaches for his phone, just to distract himself. He ends up texting Taylor instead.

Dan: can you come over? i have news

Taylor: already on my way out the door

---

“You look less shit today,” is what she says when she opens the door. There’s a smile on her face, wavering just enough to let Dan know it’s her attempt to act normal. 

He doesn’t feel less shit. The post-appointment high has settled into something just as heavy and insecure feeling as before, just tainted with different memories, weighted with different fears.

“Yeah,” he says, “Well, stuff happened.”

He leads her to the lounge without explaining first. His body is achy and she knows he needs to be sitting down. When she settles down next to him, it’s with her whole body turned towards him, legs tucked under her and arm draped across the back of the cushions, like she’s waiting for something.

She doesn’t ask for it.

Dan takes a moment to steady his breath before saying, “I’m not dying.”

She chuckles, breathy and uncertain. “That’s good,” she says. “You better think it’s good.”

There was a day, back in at uni, when she’d tossed her textbook aside and said killing me would be less painful. And Dan, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t try to send him to a therapist, lest the advice be turned back on her, had admitted sometimes I wish I was dying just so I’d know the pain would end.

“It’s good,” says Dan. He turns towards her, offering a smile that actually feels genuine. “I have a diagnosis.”

“Oh!” She bounces on her knees. “And?”

“It’s fibromyalgia.”

She nods, just once, brows going a little furrowed. “Is it bad that I don’t know what that means?” 

Dan laughs. “Neither did I,” he says. “I reckon most scientists don't either, if Google is a reliable source.”

“Sounds accurate, if my quarter of a bio degree is anything to go off,” says Taylor. A smile quirks at the corners of her mouth. 

Dan’s not sure he’s ever seen her smiling when talking about those classes. It’s nice.

“Yeah, most of my old doctors confirm the theory,” he says, smiling too. “Dr. Kissel’s actually good, though.”

“Yeah?” says Taylor. “And this fibromyalgia thing, is it good?”

He shrugs. The anxiety from before burns in his chest again. His head tilts back against the sofa, and he watches Taylor’s brows furrow in concern. 

“Probably shouldn’t be. The symptoms are royal shit and there’s no cure and I don’t really know where to go from here,” he admits. “But having an answer? That’s good.”

A smile spreads slowly across her face, close-lipped and content. Dan watches her eyes flick between both of his, her head falling to rest against her open palm as she stares.

“I’m not gonna pretend to understand,” she says. “My diagnosis– I knew what was wrong, I just didn’t want to admit it, you know?”

Dan nods. He wonders if that’s one of the things she learned about herself in therapy, wonders how he never really saw it that way. Maybe because he couldn’t relate. He never felt like he knew what was wrong with him. Until now.

His heart clenches at that, eyes falling closed against the rush of anxiety-tainted relief that floods the already too-full space between his ribs. 

Taylor reaches over, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her voice is quiet as a whisper when she says, “I’m so happy for you.”

He laughs. It comes out as a puff of air that sounds half like a sob, but it’s the best he can muster without actually breaking into tears. 

She must be able to tell, because she pulls away and settles back against the sofa. Dan counts his breath for a moment afterwards, until the steady rise and fall of his chest feels less fragile. When he opens his eyes again, Taylor’s staring up at the ceiling with him, lips still quirked up.

“You get to join me in the arduous process that is recovery now, you know,” she says. “Welcome to the dark side.”

Dan smiles. “Shouldn’t it be the brighter side?” 

“Hush,” she turns to him. Her smile’s reaching her eyes, like it rarely used to before. “I’ve been rehearsing that in my head for the last, like, two minutes, let me have this.”

When Dan laughs that time, it actually feels genuine.

---

Taylor stays for dinner. Phil invited her.

They eat around the coffee table. Taylor lets Phil have his usual spot next to Dan with a joke about how she’s pretty sure it’s morphed to their spines by now, and drags over a chair from the dining table instead. She tells Phil all about her new courses as they eat, a grin wide on both their faces.

Afterwards, they play a round of Mario Kart, because they can. Dan wins. Taylor comes in second this time, and Phil complains about how she’s never allowed to play with them again because, even if he can’t beat Dan, he can beat the computers. Usually.

Dan teases him with that last bit. He points out how often Phil ends up stuck in the item clusterfuck and, when he pouts in response, presses a quick kiss to his cheek. Because he can.

It feels normal. As normal as it can when, a few months ago, he and Taylor were playing this game on their DS’, miserable in Dan’s uni bedroom. 

So, not normal at all. 

Taylor’s laughs so much happy tears leak from the corners of her eyes. Dan has an answer for why his chest aches when he laughs too much. Phil reaches around him, and flattens a hand against Dan’s ribs when his breath catches around an exhale. 

He whispers a quiet one, two, three, against the round of Dan’s shoulder.

Dan leans his head back against the cushions again, and enjoys the company of the two people who will give him a second to steady the broken parts of his body without making him feel bad.

When he looks back up, he smirks at them both, and starts a round of Rainbow Road without warning.

---

The anxiety starts to come back when darkness falls. 

Phil leads him to the bedroom without a word. Taylor’s just left, the sky’s just starting to go dark. It’s been a long time since they last sat up and watched a movie late into the night, Dan realizes, but he doesn’t much mind. It means he gets to wrap himself in cozy blankets and rest his head on a fluffed up pillow and feel Phil’s arms around him.

He gets to reach up and chase away the tedium of the day with soft kisses pressed to Phil’s lips. 

Tonight, though, he doesn’t. His mind is too preoccupied by the time he slips under the covers. He stares up at the ceiling and tries not to think of all the long nights he spent with just his pain and his questions to keep him company. Days when the brush of his duvet was too much against his skin, when his pillow pressed too much against the back of his neck.

It’s because there’s tender points there. Dan knows that now. 

It doesn’t feel like he should.

He reaches out into the space between them and catches Phil’s hand over the mattress, squeezing once. 

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“‘Course,” says Phil. He rolls over, so he’s curled up on his side facing Dan, head resting against the crook of his elbow.

Dan doesn’t look back at him. He feels weird when he asks, “You know that thing you made me do the other day? To get my thoughts out of my head? With my webcam?”

“Yeah,” says Phil. “Why?”

Dan swallows. Phil must be able to hear it, because he squeezes Dan’s hand, just for a second.

“Would you find it weird if I wanted to do it again?”

“Why would I find that weird?” asks Phil. He lets go of Dan’s hand, only to reach out and clumsily search for his fringe in the darkness. He swipes some curls away from his eyes. “I told you I used to do it, didn’t I?”

Dan shrugs. It’s awkward, with his pillow tucked right above his shoulders. “Yeah. Just feels weird.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to, if it helps,” says Phil. “Do you want me to set it up for you?”

Dan considers it. There’s comfort in the idea, a weird kind that soothes his mind into thinking Phil actually can’t find it weird if he’s willing to help Dan do it. But it’s getting late, late enough that Dan’s pretty sure if he peeked outside he could see the the flashing trails of airplanes over the city, and Phil worked all day.

“I think I can manage,” he says. “Pretty sure I haven’t forgotten how to use my laptop just yet.”

Phil laughs. His hand trails across Dan’s chest as he slips out of bed. When Dan turns to look back from the doorframe, the hallway light lets him see just enough to tell that Phil’s still curled up on his side, smiling.

---

He sets his laptop up on his pillows, with the grainy window of his webcam app filling the screen. 

The room stays silent for long seconds after he hits record. Dan adjusts his hair, all curly in the way he hates but can never spare the energy to fix. He fidgets around on his bed until his too-bony knees are out of shot and you can see the waistline of his pants so he doesn’t look naked.

Part of him wants to laugh at himself. It doesn’t matter. No one will ever see this. Dan doesn’t even think he’ll ever look back at it. 

He takes a deep breath, brings his fingers to his head, and says, “Hello internet,” just like last time.

And then he rants into the camera until he’s lost track of what he’s already said and isn’t sure any of it is making sense and the anxiety in his brain fades into some sort of mental fatigue. He’s lying down on his side because he lost the energy to sit up and his laptop clock is telling him it’s been over half an hour.

His hands are shaking when he reaches over to shut the recording off. Dan’s not sure when that started.

He’s not sure about a lot of things, he realizes.

Dan rolls onto his back, and stares up a ceiling that’s just like Phil’s but feels way less familiar until he musters the energy to hold his body upright again.

---

Phil’s still awake when Dan goes back to their room.

He looks up from his phone as Dan closes the door behind him and walks over to crawl into bed. He pulls the duvet over his body, right up to his chin, and curls up on his side. There’s a headache welling in his temples, and a heaviness lingering in his chest.

“Were you listening?” he whispers.

“No,” says Phil. He reaches behind him to set his phone down, sending the room dark, and then reaches out to tuck a strand of Dan’s hair behind his ear. “I don’t want to intrude.”

Dan hums. His eyes drift closed as Phil’s thumb traces small circles on his cheek. 

Part of him wishes Phil had overheard, so he could soothe Dan’s anxieties without him needing to ask any scary questions. Most of him just wants to hold Phil close and pretend he isn’t suddenly questioning the stability of his entire fucking life, of all the wonderful things in it.

So he does. He grabs Phil’s hand, and dusts a soft kiss to his palm, and then presses closer until Phil’s arms are wrapped all the way around him, holding him tucked against his shoulder in an awkward horizontal hug.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Phil doesn’t respond with words. He just brushes a kiss to the top of Dan’s head and then, when Dan looks up, a second to his lips. 

And a third and a fourth and a fifth until they actually settle in to sleep.

[g0dblessthefandom]

Brittana Valentine’s Semi AU (Updated Daily Unt-bwhahahahahaha) February 14, 2017

February 14, 2017

“I’m not going.”

“Santana-”

“Mercedes, it’s Valentine’s Day. I may have just broken up with the love of my life, and you want me to spend it with you and Sugar and her girlfriend on a boat? Yeah, I’m going to give that a pass.”

“Well, Rachel will be there too.”

“Hard pass.”

As she sat on the phone in her new office, Santana was doing her best to keep her cool. Between trainings, meetings and getting her email set up, she’d finally been able to think about something other than the disappointment in Brittany’s eyes in the library two nights before. It was working, just barely. But Valentine’s Day was upon her, and every day there were flower deliveries, cupcakes and boxes of chocolates filling her office. Every time Santana saw a stuffed bear holding a heart, she wanted to rip it’s head off.

And now Mercedes was calling to in an attempt to drag her out of the house, and she couldn’t think of anything else that she would like to do less.

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I’m going to pick up some ice cream on the way home, curl up under the covers, and watch Golden Girls on Hulu.”

“Santana, do I ever ask you for anything?”

Santana tried to make the pause she took to roll her eyes a little less noticeable. “No, Mercedes, you don’t.”

“So, can you do me this little favor, please?”

To be honest, Mercedes asked her for stuff all the time, but saying that would lead to an even bigger guilt trip that would make Santana’s own mother uncomfortable. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with Mercedes and Sugar, but today of all days… Santana scrambled to try and come up with an excuse that might work, when Mercedes interrupted her thoughts.

“Are you there, Santana?”

Dammit. She was screwed.

“Yeah, Mercedes, I’m here. I’ll come along. But Sugar and Jane start humping on the couch, or Rachel decides to turn things into an impromptu musical performance, I am so out of there.”

“Great!” Santana could hear Mercedes’ smile through the phone. “We’ll leave from my place, so just come right home after work and we’ll leave from here.”

“Fine.” Santana tried to take the whine out of her voice, but Mercedes was satisfied.

“Ok, see you then.”

“See you, Mercedes.”

Santana hung up the phone and sat back in chair with a sigh. As much as she’d tried to spend the last two days not thinking about Brittany, it was easier said than done. It wasn’t really a matter of trying to figure out where she and Brittany went wrong. That was a Gordian knot that she couldn’t even begin to untangle. There were so many broken promises and harsh words. Maybe it was a matter of talking it out or maybe it couldn’t ever be solved.

Santana picked up her cell phone, and scrolled down to Brittany’s name. She opened a blank text and sat for a moment watching the cursor blink back at her.

You were right, I was wrong. I can’t ever make up how I let you down and I-

Santana couldn’t continue. There was too much to say than she could say in a text message. But sometimes she felt like she was all talked out. . Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. If she were smart, she’d delete the whole thing, and go do some work. She could do a couple of rounds in the office, start introducing herself to people, and munch on an one of those fruit baskets where the fruit is cut into shapes for you. But there were so many things that she wanted to say to Brittany. She wanted to tell her everything, but she wasn’t sure where to start.

She deleted the message and tried again.

I’m sorry.

She deleted that almost immediately. She had stuff to be sorry for, sure, but what would more apologies do? She typed another short message.

Happy Valentine’s Day

She took a deep breath and pressed send. She put her phone on silent, and stood up from her desk. Then, thinking better of it, she opened her desk drawer and stuck the phone in, slamming the drawer closed.

“Whoa, Lopez, getting fed up with the rat race already?”

One of her colleagues, Bridget peeked into her office with a grin.

“Yeah, no, sorry. I’m good, where are you off to?”

“Word is Penny in HR got a box of chocolates from an ex and she’s sharing, so, you want to get over there before all the ones with coconut inside are gone?”

“Ew, gross, coconut?”

“More for me, then.” Bridget laughed, but she soon became serious. “Is everything okay, Santana?”

Santana wasn't one to open up on a whim. Bridget was nice enough and had volunteered to show her around the office but she wasn't sure she wanted to tell everything about her relationship with Brittany to a virtual stranger.

She shook her head. “I'm fine. Just still getting used to being back in the 9 to 5, you know?”

“Yeah, I hear that.” Bridget said agreeably. “You want to go snack your troubles away?”

Santana heard a rumbling from her desk and stood up quickly, plastering on a fake smile for effect. “You know what? I'm actually going to go out for a late lunch. See what grazing options we’ve got around here.”

Bridget didn’t look convinced by the smile, but knew enough not to ask too many question. She returned a more authentic smile of her own, and turned towards the door.

“Well, have fun, Santana. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Santana’s smile slipped a little, and she reattached it tightly. “Thanks.”

Bridget was out the door, and Santana slipped on her coat, and grabbed her wallet, stuffing in it in her pocket. Her desk rumbled again, but she ignored it, sending one last glance towards the drawer that held her phone, before shaking herself, and heading out the door.

\

Classes were over for the day, but it had mostly been a waste. For all of her precautions, Brittany’s classes kept getting interrupted by singing telegrams, candygrams and balloon-a-grams, or whatever else proclamations of love her students could come up with. It had been difficult to ignore at first, but as the day wore on, each of the interruptions reminded her more and more of her single condition, and made her more and more surly. Finally, after Jane had left after lunch (to pretty herself up for date night with Sugar), Brittany couldn’t take it anymore, and emailed her students telling them class was cancelled for the day. She got on her bike thinking she’d head home, the day was unseasonably warm so she took a left when she’d normally would have made a right, and headed into Central Park.

The sun shining down on her shoulders, and the wind at her back as she watched parents push their kids around the park perked her up a little. She tried to ignore the couples nuzzling on benches, and smiling teens holding bunches of red, heart shaped balloons.

Being unsure about Santana was a feeling she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to. It wasn’t something that she had to grapple with much before. From the time they first met, they’d barely spent any time apart. When they were in high school together, Santana was her refuge and her best friend. When Santana had finally come out and accepted herself, Brittany had been right there, standing proud. And when Santana had finally had the courage to tell Brittany that she loved her, Brittany was ready again to show the feelings she’d always felt. All of those moments, all of those memories came crashing over here. She thought she’d done a good job repressing them, but she lived them in a million new ways every day.

Brittany sighed, getting off the bike and walking it over a hill. She had just reached the top of the rise when her breath was caught in her throat. The jet black hair, the smooth, pale russet skin, the strong, supple legs poking out from underneath a navy pencil skirt.

It was Santana.

Brittany had to laugh at herself. Of all the parks, in all the city, of course (of course) she would bump into Santana. She could be in Antarctica, and she’d run into Santana there; her nose rosy from the cold, offering her a big warm cup of hot chocolate. Yet, there she was. Her former fiancee, her former girlfriend, her former everything, sitting on a bench, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. Brittany hesitated a moment, not sure if she should approach. Suddenly, the decision was made for her, and almost as though pulled by magic, Santana’s eyes met hers.

Brittany was seized by a momentary panic. Should she run? Slowly back away? Fall down and pretend to be a rock? Her mind was made up for her again when she saw the small smile on Santana’s face. She began to walk forward.

Brittany approached slowly, not sure if we was a welcome sight. She waved as she got closer, and saw Santana waved in return.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

The echoes of the children playing nearby swirled around them. Brittany gestured to the bench.

“Mind if I sit down?”

“Of course not.”

Brittany sat and there was a moment of silence. Only, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but there was a familiarity in it. It was something that she missed. She sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Santana asked, not turning to face her.

“I, um, I broke up with Clark.”

“Hm.”

It was a little sound, and to anyone else it would have been a completely neutral one. But Brittany knew better.

“I supposed I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“And why’s that?” Santana still didn’t turn.

“I guess- Well, I guess I don’t want you to think I expect anything.”

“Expect anything? Like what?”

Brittany sighed again. “I don’t know, some grand pronouncement. Some declaration of love, or remorse or whatever. I don’t think we’re about that anymore.”

“We’re not?”

There was a bit of a grin in Santana’s voice, but Brittany pressed on.

“No. I mean, we’re older and wiser now, I guess. At least I should hope so.”

“Well, we’re definitely older.”

“Yep.”

The moment hung on a bit longer, and Santana cleared her throat.

“Sugar convince you to go on her dad’s boat tonight?”

Brittany laughed. “How did you know?”

“Because Mercedes did the same thing to me. Only she guilted me into it.”

“Sugar might have mentioned fondue.”

This elicited an actual laugh from Santana who glanced at Brittany out of the corner of her eye.

“Your only weakness.”

“I imagine it’s all a part of some cockamamie scheme to get us out in the harbor, stuck out there until we resolve our differences.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“But, for some reason, I don’t think it’ll work.”

This time Brittany turned, more than a little shocked. “What do you mean? Do you think-?”

She let her voice trail off. Too afraid to finish the thought. There were implications in Santana’s words that she didn’t want to think about.

“I just mean-” Santana started, almost as if she were reading Brittany’s mind. “I think we need more than a long conversation trapped on Al Motta’s boat to figure all this out. But, I’m willing to try if you are.”

The panic in Brittany’s mind seemed to dissipate as quickly as it gathered, and she nodded slowly.

“It’s just-” Brittany continued after a while. “It’s just that for the first time in a long time. I don’t know what I want.”

Santana let the statement settle. She felt the stress, uncertainty and fear that had clouded her judgement the past few weeks fade away. Of course, it would have been perfect if Brittany had jumped into her arms, covering her with kisses, and begging to be with her forever, but this was something different altogether, but no less welcome. This was someone who could be truly happy again, and that’s all that Santana could ask for.

She smiled, patting Brittany’s leg gently. “That’s okay, Britt. I’m just glad to be here with you.”

Brittany put a hand on top of Santana’s, relishing the touch for a moment longer.

\

“Heard anything yet, Sug?”

“Nope, but I know Brittana. If they were coming, they’d have been here already.”

Mercedes and Sugar stood up on the bow of a gorgeous boat, gazing out on harbor, where lights shined onto the water, dancing with the waves. The last tendrils of sunlight had faded away, and though the stars weren’t visible, the sky was crisp and clear. The last of winter was still holding on, but spring was on it’s way, and the world was still turning.

Mercedes pulled her shawl a bit closer around her shoulders. “What do you think?”

“I think we should shove off. I’ve got a special gift for Jane, and I’m kind of nervous in giving it to her.”

“It’s not that bright pink dildo you had delivered to my house, was it?”

Sugar laughed. “Well, that’s part of it, but I couldn’t send it to my house, could I? She would have seen it and asked about it.”

“Okay, but you also put my name on it, and I opened it! I could have had a heart attack.”

“I put your name on it because we’re at your house all the time too, and if it’d had my name on it, it would have been even more suspicious. Anyway, don’t act like you’ve never seen one of those before.” Sugar said, waggling her eyebrows.

“I don’t see how that’s any-” Mercedes rolled her eyes. “Anyway, if it’s not that, then what is it?”

Sugar dug around in her pocket for a moment, bringing out a small white box. She opened it with a flourish and presented it to Mercedes, who looked inside curiously.

“It’s a key.”

“Well, yeah, it’s my key. My house key. I’m asking her to move in with me.” Sugar grinned.

“Oh wow, that’s terrific, Sugar! It’s kind of a big step. Have you ever lived with anyone before?”

“Nah, but we practically live together now. I’m either at her place or she’s at mine. I don’t really know if she’ll want to live in my building, but we can always get something in between our places. For some reason, she loves living out in Brooklyn. It’s just a gesture, you know? Like, ‘hi, I’m awkward, and weird, but I’ve also never felt like this about anyone before, and I really like you.’”

“That’s really nice. I’m actually surprised you didn’t give her something extravagant, like a pony or something.”

“Jane doesn’t like horses. I mean, she doesn’t not like them, but she says there’s something about their faces that she doesn’t quite trust. Anyway, she’s told me a million times she’s not interested in her own private helicopter, or a gold plated guitar, or a orca named for her. It’s not about the money, it’s, like, about the thought behind it.”

“That’s a very profound realization you’re making there, Sugar.”

“Yeah, it’s super weird. But, I guess she’s worth it.”

Mercedes watched the wistful smile on Sugar’s face for a moment, and couldn’t help the one that crept onto her own. Things weren’t perfect with her Troubletones, but they were getting better everyday, and she was happy for that.

Suddenly, there was a commotion behind them, and they turned to see Jane stumbling up the steps. Sugar fumbled with the box for a moment, shoving it into her purse, and attempting to look as nonchalant as possible.

“What are you two doing up here? It’s cold.” Jane approached, and wrapped her arms around Sugar.

Sugar melted into the embrace, and snuggled a bit against Jane’s shoulder.

“Sugar was just saying that she’s pretty sure that Brittany and Santana will not be joining us.” Mercedes said.

“Oh no. Wait, what do you think that means?”

“I’m not really sure, honestly.”

Just then Mercedes’ phone rang, with Sugar’s going a moment later, and then another loud ringing from in the hold.

Curious, Mercedes pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“It’s from Brittany.”

“Yeah, I know, I got the same thing.” Jane said, studying her phone.

There was a crash as the door as Rachel clambered up from below decks. “Did you guys SEE this text from Brittany?”

A mile spread slowly across Mercedes face as she studied the picture message. It was a selfie with Brittany and Santana smiling over a pizza placed on a checkered tablecloth with text that read:

Thanks for the invite, but we’d rather skip the boat ride for now. See you guys later. P.S. -- Santana says hi.

“I guess that means they’re not coming.”

“Well, yeah, Sugar, but they’re together. That’s what we wanted, right?” Mercedes said, good naturedly.

“I guess.” Sugar pouted. “But, I was kind of looking forward to having everybody here on the boat tonight.”

“Don’t you have something you wanted to give to Jane anyway? I thought you were getting antsy.”

This piqued Jane’s interest, and she dislodged herself from Sugar, looking at her square on. “What did you get me?”

“Um, nothing! I mean, something. But, I mean, anyway, we’d better head off, I’ll let the captain know. Captain Davies? Um, Captain Davies?”

Sugar scurried downstairs and with a laugh, they all followed.