#anyway all that classroom politics summary aside to say. i hope she shuts the fuck up on thursday for once in her life

[pleckthaniel]

I believe my climate change class, as a collective, is slowly starting to turn on the one girl who's been the (annoying, disruptive) classroom ringleader all semester, and I am very very happy.

[itsmyusualphannie]

something wrong in the village

Chapter 1/5: genesis Beta: @candanandphilnot Rating: T Warnings: None Read on ao3

Summary: Fiona Lester has a secret. Dan Howell thinks they hate each other. Dan meets an online friend and comes to realize something important about himself while juggling a changing relationship with his parents, friends, and Fiona.

Author’s notes: this was written for the phandom writer discord server’s gift fic exchange! happy holidays @sudden-sky you’d better enjoy your present

~~~ next chapter ~~~

"Mr Howell, are you with us today?"

The voice broke through Dan's concentration on his sketchbook and he glanced up, meeting the cool gaze of his English teacher. "Uh," he said. He didn't set down the pencil gripped in one hand. "Yeah."

His seat juddered as the person sitting behind him kicked it. Dan's pencil, the tip still set to the sketchbook, skidded across the paper and left an angry scrawl across his rough sketch of a drum set. Dan could feel the smirk of the person sitting behind him. He fumed, but had to do so silently as his teacher cast him one last glance before turning back toward the board.

"As I mentioned, Dan, we're reviewing parenthetical citation today, since everyone's essay is due next week. Can anyone tell me how in-text citation for MLA format is used in research essays…?" Her voice faded into the background as Dan focused back onto his sketchbook.

He scribbled ineffectively with his eraser at the deep gash carved into the paper for a few long moments, then pursed his lips and stared down at the ruined sketch. Finally, he let out a slow breath and reached for the corner of the page. This barely-begun sketch was completely ruined now. His fingers rustled against the edge of the paper and he lifted it, trying his best to avoid any more attention from his teacher, but his chair was kicked again, and Dan almost ripped the paper as he jumped. He hastily flipped the paper over to a new page and hissed over his shoulder, "Stop it, you dick."

There was no response, but it was a smug silence. Dan was almost at the back of the classroom, so the person sitting behind him was in the very back and had little regard for the teacher, anyway.

Dan held still for a good minute, but no other kicks jarred him. Cautiously, he lowered his pencil to the blank, full-of-potential paper, and outlined a swift cylinder. He had just begun to add a matching cylinder, the next drum in the set, when another kick, the most ferocious all day, shook his seat. Dan dropped his pencil and clenched a fist. "Cut it out," he snarled.

This time, the person just laughed, a quiet, mocking thing.

Dan considered his options. He could, a) Raise his hand, politely tell the teacher, politely be told off because Dan was disturbing the class, and be sent to the principal when he inevitably snapped at the teacher; or he could, b) Very carefully place his sketchbook, pencil, and various class materials into his backpack so he wouldn't get them mussed, very carefully slide out of his seat, and then very carefully place a well-aimed punch to the cheek of the asshole behind him, and then be sent to the principal, but with a much more fulfilled feeling in his chest.

Dan did take his time weighing these options, but the second option was ultimately decided for him when said asshole's shoe thudded into his chair again. Dan very carefully collected his materials and slipped them into his backpack, and then he very carefully slid out of his seat, and then he very carefully aimed a punch at the cheek of the asshole behind him.

Well, that last part didn't end so well. The asshole had evidently been expecting this, as Dan's fist was neatly avoided and Dan was instead caught by the elbow and slammed face-first into the hardwood floor.

Thud, went Dan's body.

Thud, went the asshole's body only a second later when Dan grabbed the nearest ankle and yanked.

“DANIEL HOWELL,” went the teacher, which Dan found quite unfair, as he was clearly not the only one sprawled across the floor at the moment.

~~~

They were both sent to the principal's office. 

Dan had miscalculated feeling any fulfilment in his chest, as the only feeling he had right now was a dull ache where his breastbone had cracked unceremoniously into his desk leg upon a furious kick from the asshole. Their flailing on the floor had taken a full two minutes for the teacher to break up, and Dan had gained his share of throbbing injuries. He'd done his fair share, though, as the other was nursing a tender eye that was sure to bloom into a beautiful black eye.

They glared at each other in the secretary's area until the principal called them in.

"Why am I not surprised to see you two again?" was all she said upon seeing them. She rubbed the space between her perfectly-plucked eyebrows and then raised both eyebrows at them. "What happened now?"

A mutinous silence reigned.

"Sit down," she sighed.

They sat mutinously.

"Daniel Howell," she began.

"Louise," started Dan, in the same tone.

"It's Dr Pentland," she continued in the exact same intonation, "and I'd like to know what, exactly, persuaded you to attack the lovely Miss Fiona Lester?"

The asshole seated beside Dan cringed back into the seat. Dan refused to look over, just stared at the principal with a carefully bored expression plastered across his face.

Dr Pentland kept his gaze for a moment, and then she sighed deeply and turned to Fiona. "And you? You're both troublemakers. You’re constantly on your phone in class and Dan is always drawing and not paying attention to his teachers. I'm sure that Dan didn't decide, out of the kindness of his heart, to paint your face instead of his sketchbook."

As if she hadn't remembered until just then, Fiona touched careful fingertips to the bruise slowly blooming beneath her eye. She winced, then tossed a long, wavy lock of dark hair over her shoulder and stared ahead with uncanny amusement. A deliberate shrug, then a sly glance sideways at Dan.

Dan ripped his gaze away from her and glowered at the floor. He definitely had not been watching her.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Dr Pentland buried her face in her hands. The words were almost indecipherable, muffled. "Oh, god. Are my kids going to be like this when they get to sixth form?"

Dan and Fiona took the chance while she wasn't looking to exchange mutual sneers. Fiona's was considerably more impressive, Dan noted, but that didn't damper his resolve. They hastily looked back at Dr Pentland when she lifted her head.

"Alright," she said, and then nodded, firmly. "Alright. I've had enough of this. Ever since you two began this year, you've been at each others' throats. It's quite time for this to end."

Incorrect, Dan thought with glee. He and Fiona had been at each others' throats since they were twelve and thirteen, respectively. They just hadn't physically tussled in school until sixth form. It was a perfect, mutual hatred. Dan didn't think many other 16-year-olds could say that they had a real-life, mortal enemy.

At least Dr Pentland was one of the few who didn't insist that it was just sexual tension and that they would get over it soon enough. She took their mortal hatred seriously. Well, if her almost-weekly exasperation was serious.

Besides, Dan would never be attracted to someone like Fiona. He may only be sixteen, but he knew what he liked, and that was not Fiona. Well, Dan maybe knew what he liked. He thought he knew what he liked. He didn't know what he liked, but it was not Fiona.

" - and you're going to take a note to your parents, too," finished Dr Pentland, which was just about where Dan tuned back in, having heard nothing she had said in the past two minutes. She regarded them both sternly. "Understand?"

Fiona nodded. Dan nodded more apathetically, never one to be outdone even if he definitely did not understand.

"Great. Get your notes from the secretary. I expect you both to behave once you come back to school. I hope your time off will give you some time to think about your actions."

There was a pause, wherein Dr Pentland traded suspicious stares with both Dan and Fiona. "You're dismissed," she said finally.

Dan scrambled to his feet and for the door, but Fiona beat him. She yanked it open and waved him through with a wide, obnoxious smile. "Ladies first," she said, teeth bared. Her eyes were ferociously beautiful.

Dan threw himself through the door with aplomb and snapped back at her, "I'm a fucking queen, thanks."

~~~

They were suspended.

Dan wasn't exactly surprised when the secretary had scribbled something onto a note and handed it to him. "I already emailed it to your parents," she told him with a too-smug expression as if to tell him that Yeah you can't get out of talking to them. Dan had just yanked the paper from her hand and shoved it in his pocket with no regard for its carefully-folded lines. 

Fiona had elbowed him aside and the secretary had begun to rise from her seat, alarmed at the prospect of another fight, but Dan just scoffed and turned his back, grabbing his backpack from the seat he'd been waiting in earlier. He'd left much less dramatically than he'd hoped, as the door slid shut with a quiet hush instead of slamming.

He'd stood defiantly on the kerb for a good ten minutes before giving in and dialling his mum. Fiona had passed him with an air of disinterest, but when she'd peeled out of the parking lot in her old, rumbling car, she'd waved two very specific fingers out of the window at him and just laughed when he returned them. Dan had only been left with the superimposed image of her open, crooked grin and sleek hair whipping around her face. He hated her.

"Dan?" said his mum when she answered, but it was more resigned than anything else. She already knew why he would be calling at nine in the morning on a school day.

"I'm suspended," he said, voice still brittle from the hoarse memory of screeching when Fiona had yanked on his hair during the fight.

She sighed. "I'll call your dad. He'll get there sooner."

"Thanks," he said reluctantly. He kicked the kerb with the tip of his worn Vans. They scuffed a little more than they already were.

"We'll talk when I get home from work," she promised, "just...do your homework, okay? Don't let it be like last time."

Last time meant the one-day suspension a few months ago. Dan had walked the three miles from his house to Fiona's and hurled tiny rocks at her bedroom window until she'd yanked it open. He'd generously exchanged the rocks for eggs, gratified immediately by her shrill screams.

No one seemed to remember that Fiona had returned the favour when she slipped a rotten egg in Dan's bag a few days later. No one remembered her part of anything.

Dan hung up without saying good-bye to his mum. His phone chimed a moment later with a text from her. Stay out front & text me when yr dad gets there.

Fine, he texted back, then shoved the phone deep into his pocket and glared at the empty parking space that Fiona's car had vacated until his dad arrived.

~~~

"Homework," his dad reminded him one more time before rolling up his window and peeling away from the kerb in front of their house, on his way back to work. Dan glowered after him and whirled to make his way into the house. Their front door slammed, at least, which left Dan with a burning fragment of pleasure as he stormed toward his room. He hurled his backpack onto his bed, then made his way back to the front room and into the kitchen. Raiding the pantry and the fridge yielded a chunk of cheese, a bag of crackers, and a chilled half-bottle of Ribena.

Dan had mostly calmed down by the time he'd eaten most of the cheese and crackers and the Ribena bottle was empty. He'd sprawled on the chair in his room, slumped over the spoils he laid out across his desk. Brushing the crumbs off his open laptop, he apathetically watched them bounce to the floor and nestle between the curls of carpet. Future Dan could deal with it.

Sometimes, Dan wished he had even one real friend. He didn't think a gaggle of casual acquaintances who didn't even really know him counted as friends. His self-named mortal enemy certainly didn't, although sometimes it felt like she knew him better than his friends did.

A good two hours passed as Dan lazily scrolled through his Tumblr dashboard, occasionally reblogging or liking a post. He briefly considered doing his homework, but he had three full days to do that now. He briefly considered collecting some eggs and going for a walk but decided he was in enough trouble as it was. Fiona might not even be home, too.

It was only when the clock above Dan's desk clicked as it hit noon that Dan glanced up and noticed how much time had passed. He scowled at the clock and rebelliously continued scrolling through Tumblr.

Need Freinds? 

Dan stopped scrolling.

He didn't know if it was the typo, the horrific bouncing image of two generic white girls smiling brightly at each other, or even the advertisement itself that made him do a double-take.

"Who the hell wants to make friends?" he said aloud. "And especially on Tumblr. These advertisers should know better."

He rolled his eyes and resolutely continued scrolling.

Two minutes and twelve posts passed, and then Dan scrolled back up to the advertisement. The two girls were still grinning at each other, their falsely-white teeth gleaming. One was curling her hands in the shape of a heart.

It was disgusting, Dan resolved, and he clicked on the ad. It was purely for the irony of such a decision, of course.

The ad popped open a new tab, which rapidly cycled through a few sponsored links and subsequently, briefly panicking Dan as he thought frantically that it must have been a virus and oh, he'd fucked up now. Finally, the link settled on the homepage of a website that declared 'FRIENDS on Fleek - Find the FRIEND For You!' It was suitably themed, with overly bright colours and cheerful anecdotes from people who had supposedly used the website and found 'friend' matches.

We're location-based! declared the 'About' section about halfway down the homepage. We guarantee that your BFF won't be halfway across the world, so you can eventually meet them in person with no problems! Find your FRIEND match now!'

Definitely disgusting, Dan decided.

He clicked on the 'Sign Up' button in the top right corner. Just for the irony, of course.

He filled out the forum that asked for a username and password, his name, which he simply put as 'Bear,' age, gender options - She/Her, Him/His, They/Theirs, and a personalized option made some small part of Dan a little more interested in the website - and a brief biography. Dan put "lol rawr xD" in the biography and laughed for a solid two minutes before clicking to the next page. This one asked for his favourite songs and bands, favourite foods, and about fifty other random questions that Dan mostly skimmed. This probably-a-scam website had a considerable amount of effort put into it. Dan wasn't sure whether to be worried or impressed at the detail they'd invested.

The last page asked him for a profile picture and to reveal his location.

This information is secure, promised the website, as any scam website would likely promise, but to make sure no one lies about their location, you must activate the location tracker on your device. This is similar to location-based dating apps such as Tinder but is much vaguer. Your location will be in a general 50-mile area. 

However, continued the cheerful, almost blindingly-bright font a few lines down, you do not need to share a profile picture if you do not feel comfortable! Please check 'Decline' to decline this option.

Dan considered the warnings his parents had given him for the past sixteen years of his life about revealing his location and picture to strangers. He considered the talking to he was going to get tonight about his suspension, and decided to - ironically, he insisted to himself - only obey half of the warnings.

He revealed his location, but he clicked the Decline button for the profile picture.

Congratulations! chimed a message as soon as the screen had finished loading, absorbing his personal information into the Matrix, probably. You're in our system to find a FRIEND! Please be safe when meeting all new FRIENDS.

"Gross," said Dan. 

The new personalized page showed his profile and a few options in the website page bar to 'Upgrade' his account. There was a notification bar in the upper-right corner and a tiny envelope icon, which Dan assumed was for messages from "FRIENDS," he announced, loud in the silent house.

0 New Matches, said the notification bar when he clicked on it.

Dan scoffed. Of course there were zero matches. Even a scam website couldn't find a fake friend for Dan. Then again, it probably wanted him to 'Upgrade' his account.

"Nice try," Dan told the website. "I have exactly enough money for the music festival in three weeks, and I doubt I'll be getting anymore for another month or two because my parents are mad at me now. I'm not upgrading shit."

The website automatically refreshed.

Dan just blinked at it. "The fuck? Are you trying to communicate with me?"

The website unhelpfully did not do anything else. Dan squinted at it and slowly moused over to click on the notification bar.

1 New Matches, announced the notification bar.

"Sure," said Dan. He flicked the mouse, ready to exit out of the entire website, but his gaze caught on the notification again.

It taunted him.

"Fuck you," said Dan, and he clicked on it.

The page reloaded again, revealing a profile that was fully-fleshed out other than the profile picture, just like Dan's.

85% FRIEND match! declared the banner above the profile.

Dan rolled his eyes generously and skimmed it. Hi my name's Phil, said the biography, and since you're probably a creepy stalker I'm not putting personal information in this, other than my favourite TV show because you need to watch it. Stranger Things is the best and oh I'm running out of space ok. 

Name: Phil. Age: 17. Gender: Male (He/Him). Location: Within 25 miles. Inbox: Open to matches. Message "Phil"!

Dan scoffed, but he could feel interest stirring in his chest. He ruthlessly attempted to squash it, but the interest had no plans of letting go anytime soon. It persistently clung to the edges of his heart. He ignored the tiny envelope icon next to Phil's name which prompted him to initiate a conversation, and scrolled further down the page, taking note of the areas where they had 'Matched' up.

Mutual favourite bands? Muse was the only band they had both listed, but Phil's list also said Like 500 more I'm not naming them all.

Mutual favourite TV shows? Great British Bake-Off Show, Breaking Bad, Sherlock, Queer Eye, Bojack Horseman.

Mutual books? None. Phil had listed a few but Dan hadn't put down any of his. At this point where he'd been answering the questions, he'd just been trying to finish the form.

Mutual favourite foods? Pizza. Dan's had also said Pizza dips, but he figured he'd let that one slide. Phil's also said Sweets, in general, at which Dan crinkled his nose.

Mutual…

Phil had apparently given up on the other fifty or so various questions, as all of these were blank. Dan had filled out only a few of them, but he was disgruntled suddenly, that his lack of effort had been beaten by this guy.

Ah, Dan reminded himself, this bot, probably.

He stared at the screen for another few minutes. He was waiting, although he didn't want to admit it to himself, for a message - even if it was automated - from the match. The minutes passed, and none came. The page stubbornly did not auto-refresh, so Dan did it himself a few times, eyeing the little envelope icon each time.

Finally, he heaved a deep sigh. Irony, he reminded himself. "Do I have to do everything myself?" he muttered at the computer, and then he clicked on the envelope icon next to Phil's name.

A new page loaded. An inbox this time, apparently. It was empty, but a new message opened, automatically addressed to 'amazingphil' and titled "To my new FRIEND match Phil!"

Ask your new match about one of your shared interests! prompted faded text inside the message box. Or tell a funny joke!

"Gross," Dan said again. He deleted the message title and replaced it with "wtf is stranger things?" A few moments of rapid tapping against the keys, and he had 'lol wtf is stranger things & why is it your favourite TV show? & whose fave food is just sweets and pizza?' in the body of the message.

"There," Dan decided. It was just rude enough to put off any actual humans that might be on the other end but random enough that a computer response would find it difficult to decipher. He hoped, at least.

He clicked the send button. Immediately, another prompt from the website popped up, glaring neon colours as it informed him that Once your new FRIEND match responds, you can open the chat and talk with more ease! Until then, you are restricted to one message a day.

Dan scowled heavily at it. This website was obnoxious and far, far too extra. He'd probably been ironic for long enough. It was time to shut this down...unless...well, surely it wouldn't hurt to ironically get a reply from a bot?

As if summoned, his inbox chimed with a new message. Dan stared wide-eyed for a long moment, but then he opened it, fingers trembling subconsciously as he clicked.

'Stranger Things is the best TV show ever!!' declared the message, sender listed as 'amazingphil.' Dan blinked widely. 'tbh you're missing out if you haven't seen it. And sweets are a perfectly normal food! whose favourite foods are just pizza and pizza dips? I'm concerned for your safety'

Dan heaved in a breath. He heaved another. He reached for the keyboard, but his hands disobeyed him and instead yanked the laptop screen down. It thudded shut with a resounding bang!

"I'm going to get murdered," he announced to the empty room.

~~~ next chapter ~~~