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under-the-blue-sun · 5 years ago

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blankets, coffees and afternoon naps

summary: Blankets, coffee and afternoon naps have become the new normal.

word count: 1217

rating: general audiences

warnings: profanity

note: just a collection of domestic moments between dan and phil during quarantine written for @stupidity-to-the-max for phandomgives. enjoy ♡

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Blankets, coffee and afternoon naps have become the new normal.

Dan sighed fondly as he looked down at Phil sprawled across the couch. He had a bet with Dan that he would stay awake, but he was already fast asleep and fully relaxed, head resting on Dan’s lap, a thousand pillows burying him into the couch. He smiled faintly as he noticed Phil was wearing the mismatching socks he had given him for his 29th birthday.

As if awoken by Dan’s thoughts, Phil blinked, slowly opening his eyes.

“Hey.” Dan whispered softly.

“Hey.” Phil murmured, rubbing his eyes as he sat up from Dan’s lap, almost knocking over his half-full coffee mug. “How long was I out?”

“Only half an hour.” Dan said, suddenly shivering as Phil quickly left his legs, grasping his lukewarm coffee cup to conjure some warmth. “Now you have to take the garbage out.”

Phil groaned. “But Mellie is taking it out today, and I already had to deal with her two weeks ago.”

“You shouldn’t have bet on it.” Dan said, smirking arrogantly.

Phil buried his face in Dan’s lap again.

“Bitch.” he called out, muffled.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go back to sleep.”

“How do you deal with blocks?”

Phil frowned in confusion and looked up from his laptop, observing the source of the noise across him who was slamming his head on the table. “Blocks?”

“Yes!” Dan called out, exasperated. “Blocks.”

“Like chocolate blocks?” Phil joked, enjoying the annoyance continuing to write all over Dan’s face.

Dan sighed. “I meant like writer’s block.”

“Oh.” Phil said, shrugging and returning to type. “I don’t know. Write about...your mum.”

Dan squinted at him. “You write. How do you cure writer’s block?”

“Well, it’s gonna sound cheesy.”

“Tell me.” Dan said immediately.

Phil stopped typing and looked up, smiling softly. “I write about you.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“It’s true!” Phil exclaimed. “You always give me inspiration to write. there’s so much to write about you.”

“Like what?”

“Well, how you’re kind and soft, even if you pretend not to be, and that you give the best advice, and the best kisses, and you make the best Indian food on this apartment floor, and- you’re just fishing for compliments now.”

“Yup.” Dan said, grinning widely. “I know just what to write about now.”

“I think Norman hates me.”

Dan sighed. “You said that five minutes ago, Phil. He is literally a fish. He does not hate you.”

“Yeah, but...seriously. What if he does?” Phil asked.

Dan shook his head. “It’s 3am, Phil. You’re going delusional.”

“I know, but still.” Phil said. “What if I’m feeding him and caring about him and having anxiety dreams about him and he doesn’t care about me at all?”

“Go to sleep.” Dan said.

“But you’re awake!” Phil exclaimed.

“I’m turning the lamp off now.” Dan said, and he did. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.

“Good night.” Phil whispered softly.

Dan smiled slightly. “Good night. Norman loves you.”

---

“See? I told you! I fucking told you!”

Phil slammed his head on the cards. “This game is too complicated.”

“No, look at me! Look at me!” Dan shouted, grabbing Phil’s event card and waving it around. “I told you that this was too easy! You can’t just fucking airlift people and send them to different countries! It’s not how the game works! It’s not how any game works!”

“Who cares?” Phil yelled. “I saved the world anyway!”

“Illegally, you dingbat!” Dan said. “We’re playing it again.”

“This is the fifth time.” Phil said.

“I don’t care how many times we’re playing this, we need to get it right.” Dan seethed, already setting up the board again.

“Well, this isn’t perfect, but…”

“I love it.” Dan said, eyes shining.

“Yeah?” Phil said hopefully.

“Yeah.” Dan affirmed, smiling brightly and looking around the dark room filled with candles. He smelt the air.

“You even put my favourite scented candles. I thought we were out of them.”

“I ordered some online.” Phil said.

Dan put his hand over his heart. “Oh my god, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Phil beamed. “You look good tonight.”

“You too.” Dan said, taking a seat. “So, Mr Lester, what do we have tonight?”

“I have made three courses for you - appetizers, main and dessert. And bread, if that counts as a course.” Phil said. He hesitated before continuing, glancing at Dan’s lightly lit face.

“Go on.” Dan whispered, urging him to go on.

“Okay, so for the entree I made a beef carpaccio with avocado and walnuts, seasoned with salt and pepper. For main we have polish pork and cabbage stew with fresh marjoram with a side of fava bean salad with goat's cheese. Lastly, for dessert I made rhubarb tart with pistachio ice cream, and an attempt of Japanese mochi. All of this is with the non-burnt homemade sourdough bread I made last week, and butter from Sainsbury.” Phil said. “I hope you like it.”

“God, Phil. You did so much.” Dan said. “You didn’t have to do that much.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to. You’re worth it.” Phil said.

“I don’t know what to say.” Dan breathed.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Phil said, smiling softly. “It was nothing.”

Dan looked at Phil directly. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Phil grinned. “I love you too. I’ll bring out the food now.”

“Chef, waiter and boyfriend. How much do I have to tip you tonight?” Dan teased.

“You’re my tip for tonight.” Phil said, kissing Dan’s forehead.

“We’re gross, aren’t we?” Dan called out as Phil got their appetizers and bread.

“Definitely.” Phil shouted back. “It’s great.”

“In summary, if you try to rap one more time, I will literally cry.” Phil finished.

“What are you talking about?” Dan said, still speaking into the faux microphone. “I sounded great.”

“I rate that performance a -8/10.” Phil said.

Dan pouted. “You’re so mean.”

“You barely said one quarter of the words in that song.”

“A for effort?”

“F for failure.”

“Fine, I rate your Britney a 0.”

“You already rated an 11! You’re not allowed to change it!”

“Since when? Hit Me Baby One More Time? More like “Hit Me Baby Zero More Times Because Phil Is So Bad At Singing It”.” Dan said, changing the song already.

Phil rolled his eyes. “You think you’re so funny.”

“Oh, you love me, shut up.” Dan said, getting read to rap into the microphone.

“You left your coffee in the microwave.” Phil yelled.

“Just heat it up again and give it back to me.” Dan yelled back, eyes refusing to leave the computer and fingers fervently glued to the keyboard.

“Here you go.” Phil said, smiling as he put the lukewarm cup on the counter next to Dan. “How’s your writing going?”

“Good.” Dan said, continuing to type.

“Fixed your block?” Phil asked, sitting on the couch next to him.

“Yep.” Dan said, shutting his laptop. “Thanks for the advice.”

“What advice?” Phil asked.

“You.” Dan replied, adjusting the blanket hanging over his legs to share with the very confused Phil. “Let’s see if you manage to stay awake through this episode.”

Blankets, coffee and afternoon naps, they decided, were the best kind of normal.

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antiadvil · 5 years ago

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I Don’t Care

~1k, PG13

Summary: Youtube parties suck, but at least they're not alone. Title after the song by Ed Sheeran.

A/N: It’s also part of the @phanworkschallenge advent calendar thing. It’s v cool, go check it out. Thanks to @sudden-sky for the beta!

read more or on ao3

YouTube parties were so boring. All of the lights and cameras and networking, and other YouTubers trying to get him in their vlogs. It wasn’t that bad when he had friends there. Unfortunately, he only vaguely recognized a few faces in the crowd that night, and those he did recognize he was mostly trying to avoid.

And then Phil returned to the corner Dan had claimed as theirs, slipping a drink into Dan’s hand, and everything was okay again. “Thought you might need this,” Phil said.

“Oh thank god, the one person who makes these things bearable,” Dan said. “Alcohol.”

Phil bumped Dan’s shoulder. It was the only physical contact he was willing to risk in a room with so many cameras. “Just be careful. We don't want a repeat of last year."

Dan squinted. "What happened last year?"

Phil laughed. "Exactly."

"I did not get that drunk."

Phil shrugged. "I'm just saying, you might want to be careful. There are a lot more cameras this year."

Dan sighed and downed his drink. "Should we separate then? Divide and conquer?"

Phil scanned the room. "For a bit, maybe. Meet you back here in fifteen?"

"Only if you buy me more drinks."

"Deal. Later, though, okay? You need to be able to navigate these things while legally sober. For both of our sakes."

Dan sighed. Phil took things so seriously sometimes. "I was joking," he called as Phil walked away.

Phil turned back for just a moment. "Good," he said before turning away again.

Dan, who had only half been joking, spent the next half hour ducking into as many vlogs as he could, carefully guarding his drink and trying to make it seem as if he had been socializing all night. He fielded what felt like a thousand questions about where Phil was, all too aware that he was answering most of them on camera.

“Oh, he’s around somewhere,” he had just finished shouting at a camera (the music at these things really didn’t need to be so loud), when Phil appeared over his shoulder.

“Hey guys!” He waved at the camera.

Dan turned towards Phil, but not too much. “Hey, Phil!”

“Hey, Dan!”

“Where’d you go? I missed you.”

Phil smiled. “Aww, you missed me?”

“I’m only saying it once.”

Phil pouted.

“You whiny little-”

Phil interrupted. “Stop! Don’t finish that sentence.”

“We’re not on your channel anymore. You can’t censor me.”

They had drifted away from the camera and closer together, without even noticing.

“I’ll censor you whenever I want, Howell.”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try, Lester.”

They were standing less than six inches apart.

Dan pulled himself away, regretfully.

“See you in another fifteen?”

Phil nodded. “Yeah.”

The next circuit seemed to go badly for Phil. When they met again, Phil scowled and pulled Dan’s drink out of his hands, downing it in a gulp.

“Hey,” Dan said mildly.

“Shut up, rat. I bought that drink.”

“With a credit card that connects to our joint bank account? How generous.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Go buy your own drink.”

“Oh, Phil.” Dan couldn’t help teasing him. “You need to be able to navigate these events while legally sober. For both of our sakes.”

Phil looked at Dan, his expression dark.

“Fine, fine,” said Dan, softening. “You’re an adult and I trust you to drink responsibly.”

Phil’s expression softened in return. Dan resisted the urge to kiss his forehead.

“Meet again in another fifteen minutes?” Dan asked.

“The fans are going to think you dumped me and moved out,” Phil said.

“You’re the one who dumped me, remember? For your wife and kids.”

Phil pouted.

Dan’s heart melted into a sticky mess inside his chest. “Fine. We can stick together.”

“Wanna leave?” Phil asked, standing close enough that Dan could have brushed their fingers together if they weren’t in public.

Dan shrugged.

“What happened to just getting this over with?”

Dan smiled wistfully. “Separate hotel rooms.”

Phil sighed. “Why did we do that again?”

“We’re stupid, YouTube said they would pay for them, we underestimated how much we would miss each other, and we correctly estimated the number of cameras that would be here.”

Phil let their pinkies brush together for real this time. “Would anyone really notice?”

“You want to risk it?”

Phil’s response was so immediate, so sure, that it startled Dan. “Yes.”

Dan paused. Keeping their relationship status secret had been a joint decision, mostly for Dan’s benefit, but Phil had always been so careful, so cautious. “You really mean that?”

“You don’t?” Phil asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Dan said automatically. “It’s just… it’s a lot of things. It’s a risk, careerwise. And there’s my family. They can’t find out through some headline. We don’t always get along, but I owe them that, at least.” They weren’t talking about going back to their rooms anymore.

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything. I just meant… when you’re ready, I’m ready. I always have been. I always will be.”

“I know,” Dan said. He paused. “Thank you,” Dan added softly.

“Course,” Phil said.

They were silent for a moment.

Dan sighed. “Do you think anyone here gives a shit about me?”

Phil surveyed the room. “Other than me? Probably not.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Great.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s just how it is.” How show business would always be, how any business that depended so much on appearance would be.

“I don’t like how it is,” Dan complained, a petulant note creeping into his voice.

“Then we’ll change it,” Phil said.

“You say that like it’s easy.”

Phil smiled. “With you it is.”

“That’s the cheesiest thing you’ve said all evening,” Dan said, but his cheeks were warm and hurt from smiling.

“Come on. Let’s go to my room. No one’s watching,” Phil said softly.

Dan looked around. No one was. “Let’s go.”

#phan #phanfic #phanworkschallenge #my writing

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et-in-cinerem-reverteris · 5 years ago

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Class of 1953 - Chapters 4/4.5 - Louder Than Bombs/Rubber Ring

“Phil, I think you are the strangest person that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Hey, you’re equally weird,” he teases.

“I know. That’s why I think you’re so wonderful.”

I’m back with my 1950s historical Oxford university AU fic-cum-novella-thing. Sorry I haven’t been posting the chapters to Tumblr! Here are chapters 4 and 4.5 - soon I will be posting chapter 5 (possibly the last chapter!)

Click me to read on Ao3!

Or keep reading under the cut...

Chapter 4 - Louder Than Bombs

The passing of time, and all of its sickening crimes, is making Phil nervous again.

Sitting sideways at the top of his bed with his feet swinging off the edge like a bored schoolboy, he idly fumbles with the pages of an open book as he stares into space, waiting.

Last Sunday he had promised Dan that he could use his room as a space to get homework done. Tonight, the gravity of the situation has only just begun to dawn on him. He imagines the scene with a quickened heartbeat; Dan sitting only a foot away, using his chair, working at his desk and writing with his pens, Dan pacing around his room, scrutinising his photographs, flicking through his records and reading the titles of his books. Phil doesn’t know how to prepare himself. Meeting up in public is one thing, but a private visit to his room feels like quite another.

He laughs out loud at himself. Private visit? Dan’s only coming to study for Christ’s sake.

Speaking of studying, he has his own work to attend to. Lying on his lap is a copy of Beowulf, deliberately planted there to create the impression of a student deeply engaged in a spot of serious reading. Unfortunately for Phil Beowulf has been unable to capture his imagination, and so instead he has spent the last ten minutes or so staring at the contents of his hastily tidied room. His desk is decluttered, his bed has been made, and all the odd pairs of socks have been picked off the floor and put away in preparation for Dan’s visit.

All is silent bar the low hum of his desk lamp. It’s a quiet Friday evening, and the normally raucous quad now only echoes sporadic bursts of hushed chatter. Tonight’s sky is peppered with clouds that pass the moon at random intervals, periodically obscuring a strange halo that encircles the bright rock in a mysterious reddish glow. The curtains lie wide open, and a streak of moonlight falls on the pinboard opposite his bed. Littered with cinema tickets, clippings from environmental magazines, ripped out pages and uncashed cheques, the most recent addition to the board is a cluster of pictures he took of the photography club on an impromptu walk by the River Cherwell. The top photograph shows Bill squinting at the sun while Mary gives Beth a precarious looking piggyback ride, both of them smiling as John holds his palms up to the toppling ensemble and posing as tourists do next to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Phil remembers how the group of them skimmed stones across the muddy water, competing to see who could get the furthest, until Beth had beat Bill’s expert hand with a fluke stone that skipped so far into the distance that none of them could tell where it had landed. He thinks of that day with a smile. Good times.

*rat-tat-tat*

At last! Springing off his mattress he dashes towards the mirror, spruces up his quiff, takes in a deep breath and opens the door.

“Hallo! Ho-”

Phil is interrupted as Dan comes crashing into the room, stumbling past him and lurching towards the desk as a large pile of books, folders and papers fall from his arms and scatter across the surface in a heap. He releases a long sigh, and then turns around to face his host with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry for bursting in here like that. My arms were starting to get cramped under the weight of all these books, and I had to put them down. Anyway, how are you?”

“I’m fine but err, quick question,” Phil starts. “Why didn’t you just use a bag?”

Dan’s smile fades and his eyes glaze over, mouth opening and closing as his brows furrow in confusion. “Now that you mention it, I um, don’t know why on earth I didn’t think of that.” He throws his hands into the air. “God knows what’s up with me.” Embarrassed, he turns around and begins to organise the jumbled papers.

“What’s all this you’ve got here then?” Phil asks, flopping down onto the bed and leaning his back against the wall as he watches Dan.

“It’s mostly some notes about Schubert. We have to study the last few decades of his life, so I bought a few books from home with me that I thought I’d be able to flick through. And um,” he picks up a piece of paper, “I’ve also got to work towards a portfolio of compositions, so really I’ve got a mountain of stuff to do.”

“Sounds daunting.”

“Mmmm.” He sits down in the chair next to Phil’s desk, adjusting the angle of the lamp as he kicks off his shoes. “So,” he continues, turning around, “what are you up to then?”

Phil nonchalantly waves his book in the air. “Just Beowulf.”

Dan scoffs. “Just Beowulf? Come on, Phil! It’s only one of the most important pieces of English literature of all time!” Shaking his head in disbelief, he turns back around. “‘Just Beowulf’... Jesus.”

After a couple of minutes of silence Phil suddenly realises that Dan has started working. As in actually working. In the past they had both joked about being chronic procrastinators, and so Phil had predicted that the night would end up with them talking about books, politics or musicals instead of doing homework. He’s a bit surprised that Dan was serious about wanting to use his room just to study in, and to be truthful, he’s also a little disappointed.

To make matters worse, as the other boy works away Phil finds himself unable to concentrate on the book in front of him; no matter how hard he tries to focus, all thoughts invariably trace back to his companion. He examines the back of his neck, the collar of his shirt, the knit of his jumper and how it falls on his lanky build. Dan will occasionally sing or hum a tune to himself, scribble something down and then repeat that same harmony with a few added notes, moving the fingers on his right hand as if he were in front of a piano. It’s a peaceful sight, captivatingly peaceful, and his concentration trickles down the drain. To hell with reading anyway.

His thoughts meander back to a familiar daydream; Dan’s life in Wokingham. Phil’s imagination frequently returns to a scene of Dan sitting in a lavish study, playing the piano as golden sun leaks through an open window, balmy air wafting inside on a sweet summer evening. In tonight’s incarnation Phil envisions himself there sitting on the wooden floor, pondering over verses of romantic poetry, reading aloud a particularly pleasant stanza to Dan who would glance up from the piano and give him one of those warm, glowing smiles where his dimples make him look utterly angeli-

It’s a silly dream really, very silly indeed, and Phil feels ashamed for ever having dreamt it. With a glum sense of self-restraint, he turns back to his homework and tries extra-hard to concentrate on it.

An hour or so passes in the little room on staircase nine, and after a while Phil finds himself lulled into the lethargic contentment that only rewards avid readers, and to his amazement he realises that Anglo-Saxon poetry about Danish kings and mythical beasts isn’t as tedious as he had previously dreaded.

Satisfied with his progress, he bookmarks his page and closes the book with a thump. Dan’s neck twitches at the sound, and, as if abruptly reminded of the existence of the outside world, he drops his pen, massages his hands, and stretches his long, slender arms out into the air behind him.

“Right, I’m throwing in the towel or else I shall die of a Schu-verload,” he exhales, leaning backwards and cracking his spine on the back of the chair.

“Schu...verload?”

Dan swivels around to give him a dry scowl. “Schubert-overload, you fool.”

“Oh!” Phil exclaims, and the pair of them erupt into laughter. “Sorry, my brain has just been fried by one-thousand year old poetry. I’m feeling a bit,” he yawns, “a bit sleepy.”

Getting up from his chair and stretching some more, Dan paces over to the window and peers out of it before unhinging the lock and propping it open. Cold air sails through the room, ruffling his curls as he stares out into the dark night.

“Nice view you’ve got from up here.”

“Thanks,” Phil quips, fully aware of the fact that his room faces into a fairly dull courtyard.

“I’m serious. I think it’s grand that you’ve got a view of the chapel. It’s terribly romantic.” He steps away from the window, attention turning to a nearby shelf which houses a small record collection that appears to spark his enthusiasm. “You’ve got some superb albums here. Handel, Tchaikovsky, Chopin…” He looks over to where Phil has propped himself up against his headboard. “I respect those choices.”

“Thanks, although I mainly put them on for background noise. I’m not a major classical geek or anything.”

The other boy guffaws. “Like me?”

“No, not like you,” Phil tuts, and his pretend frown turns into another yawn.

“Busy day?” Dan grins.

“Busy day, busy week, busy month. Hectic month, in fact.”

Nodding in solidarity Dan sits down at the bottom of Phil’s bed and reclines with his back against the wall, closing his eyes with a faint smile still on his face. As the pair of them sit in silence Phil's own eyelids get heavier, and budding in his chest is a drowsy desire to snuggle up into a cosy cocoon and burrow into the bedcovers, falling deeper and deeper into the comfort of his soft, warm sheets...

When he awakes, Dan is staring straight at him.

“Hmmm, what? Did I fall asleep?”

“Quite possibly. God, I know I’m about to.” Dan’s eyelids flicker downwards as his smile fades. He looks exhausted, really exhausted, and Phil feels like there’s something he should do about it.

“Hey.”

Dan’s shoots up. Phil shuffles across his narrow bed and moves closer to the wall, patting the small space next to him in invitation. The other boy’s eyes widen for a moment before he melts into a soft, sleepy smile, then gets up slowly and gingerly sits on the bed, lies down next to Phil, then shuffles around so that he’s facing...facing him...and then closes his eyes as if it’s nothing.

Phil blinks in confusion. His more logical side knows that sleeping on the same bed as a friend is something that people do without batting an eyelid, but next to Dan it feels different - symbolic, even. Regardless, or perhaps because of that feeling, he shuffles round to face the other man and observes his sleeping face, his pale skin, his dark freckles, his thick brown eyebrows and long brown eyelashes.

Suddenly, the eyelashes open.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me use your room to study in, you doofus,” he teases, words coming out slightly sluggish.

“Mmmm, that’s alright. It’s the least I can do considering how you spoiled me last Saturday. I think I should be the one thanking you.”

Dan shifts slightly, and Phil feels their shins are now pressed up against each other. His soul sings. If he were more awake his heart might be racing in an exhilarated panic, but in his tired state all he can do is feel strangely happy. Happy...and cold.

“Why on earth is it so freezing in here?” he asks, confused and a little dazed, and as he props himself up on his elbow he sees that the window has been left open. “Da-an!”

“What?” he whines through the pillow.

“You didn’t close the window!”

“Close it then.”

Phil groans, flopping back down onto the bed. “I can’t be bothered!”

“Well in that case we’ll just have to huddle together like penguins then,” and with his eyes still closed Dan moves across the bed until their faces are centimetres apart. Now Phil’s heart starts to quicken.

“I can’t, it’s too much.”

Dan’s eyes fly open as Phil gets up from the bed and walks over to the window. Worried that he’s made a deadly mistake he buries his head into the pillow and waits for Phil to order him out of his room, out into the cold, out into the darkness for a long, lonely walk back to his own miserable dormitory.

The window clunks shut, and then the bed becomes a lot heavier. Dan removes his face from the pillow to see Phil gazing down at him.

“I thought…I thought you were about to abandon me.”

“What? Abandon you? Where would I go?” He chuckles. “I was cold, that’s all. I wouldn’t leave you here like that.”

Dan beams up at him with flushed cheeks. “You still cold?”

A smirk lets itself out. “Maybe.”

Dan unfurls his right arm across the width of the bed and lifts his left arm into the air. Phil slowly begins to panic. A hug? Is he pulling him in for a hug? A hug with Dan and his arms wrapped around him holding him lying there together on his bed a-

Okay.

Enough.

Phil looks back at Dan. His stare is dark and strong, profound and meaningful, and it makes him feel safe. He takes the plunge and lowers himself down. Dan pulls him into a hug, arms wrapping around his back and drawing him close to his chest. Phil can hear the low thump of Dan’s heartbeat and smell the warm, musky scent that lingers on his jumper. He places his arms on Dan’s ribcage, fingers fiddling with the cable knit patterns. The pair adjust themselves slightly, moving shoulders, moving heads, moving their legs and intertwining them together, drifting off to the wide, sleepy sea in a boat built for two.

Chapter 4.5 - Rubber Ring

Phil had been asleep.

Phil had been asleep, until somebody had knocked on his door.

Phil had been planning on going back to sleep, until through the still of night he had heard a familiar voice whispering his name.

Shaking the sleep from his bones, Phil opens his curtains, stumbles towards the door, turns the key in the lock and prepares himself for whatever lies waiting for him in the hallway.

“Dan?”

“G’d evening”

“W...what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Fancy a stroll?”

“A stroll? Are you insane?” Phil repeats mockingly, shivering from the cool air in the hallway. “Dan, it’s...” He checks his wrist, and frowns when he sees that it’s naked.

“1 a.m. on a Wednesday night? I know. So, what d’you say?”

Really, he should say no. He really should. It’s one in the morning, it’s a weeknight, he’s got lectures tomorrow and the weather outside is probably cold enough to freeze him to his core within five minutes. He should say no, he really should, but there’s something about roaming the shadowy streets at midnight with Dan that’s far too exciting to turn down.

“Give me thirty seconds and I’ll be right with you.”

Diving back into his room to grab the first items of clothing that he sees, Phil can’t help but feel slightly frenzied. When Dan was in his room last it had ended with the pair of them falling asleep entangled in each other’s arms. Phil hadn’t forgotten that. He had far from forgotten that. Memories of that night had floated through the air ever since, landing on him with the delicate wings of a wistful daydream that left him blushing as it flew away. Now, to both his surprise and his delight, this same boy is knocking on his door and asking for his accompaniment on a ridiculous small-hour escapade.

As he wraps his scarf around his collar, he looks across the room to the moonlit part of his pinboard. One particular piece of paper stands out, and he moves in closer to read it - it’s a quote scribbled onto a scrap of blue paper.

“I looked up at the mass of signs and stars in the night sky and laid myself open for the first time to the benign indifference of the world."

How strange. He’s had that Albert Camus line scribbled onto a piece of paper for years now, and yet never in his life has it seemed so appropriate as it does right this moment. With a peculiar feeling of rebirth he thrusts his feet into the nearest pair of shoes he can find, and opens the door into the corridor.

Dan is leaning against the wall of the hallway. The pose strikes him as familiar, and with a shock of nostalgia Phil is transported back to the night when the two of them first met. He remembers how Dan stood in the doorway to the photography club - arms folded, ankles crossed, sly smirk plastered to his mischievous face. How things have changed between them since then.

Phil locks the door, pockets the key, and when he turns around Dan is staring absentmindedly at the floor with his eyes boring holes into nothingness. Suddenly he blinks, looks up, and his eyes instantly meet Phil’s with a vivid, bittersweet gaze that makes everything else in the world feel like it’s falling away.

It feels like the passing touch of a stranger’s hand on the small of his back at a lavish party. It feels like the shock of a cherry liqueur that stuns the taste buds and leaves behind a decadent, sumptuous and moreish aftertaste. It feels like the sight of a full moon from the balcony of his Grecian holiday home, wind rustling through the leaves as the waves whisper beneath him. Phil’s heart melts... and then he realises.

He just might be in love.

“What are you thinking about?” Dan asks, breaking the silence as his eyelids hang low. Phil looks at those dark, pretty eyelashes on those dark, pretty eyes, rolls his shoulders back, and sighs.

“Mmmm, nothing.”

He turns to walk down the narrow hallway with Dan following close behind. They push through the heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway and descend onto the staircase, making their way down the steps that lead out of the building.

“So tell me then, how did you manage to get up to my room?” Phil inquires. “Did Rapunzel let her hair down over the Fellow’s Garden wall for you to use as a rope to climb up?”

Dan laughs. “No, not quite.”

“Well go on then, how did you do it? Surely the main college door would have been locked?”

“Not tonight apparently, I pushed it, and lo and behold it was open. There wasn’t a porter there either. Poor sod’s probably raiding the college’s wine cellar,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Dan! The porters aren’t drunkards.”

“I know I know, but it must be bloody boring just sitting there all night. I know I’d raid the stash if I were them.”

“What, and allow unruly boys who can’t settle down to come and break in to the college grounds? You’d make a great porter.”

“That is why I am not a porter, but a devilish, wicked boy who breaks into colleges so he can sneak into other boys’ bedrooms,” he smiles.

Phil’s mind almost shuts down at that latter part. Out of sheer bewilderment his brain decides to respond by bellowing out “you are a saucy boy” in his best Lord Capulet impression, which has the effect of making Dan double over into a fit of laughter, tears streaming down his face as he wheezes the word “saucy” through silent giggles.

As they exit the building they’re struck by the biting December cold. Careful to tread lightly across the echoing stone slabs, they stealth across the smaller quad that Phil’s bedroom faces into, creep past the chapel, and step through to the larger quad wherein lies a perfectly-maintained square lawn.

“Hey!” Dan whispers.

“What?”

“Shall we walk across the grass?”

“What? Dan! We can’t do that!” Phil hisses. “We’ll get caught and fined and-”

“Oh stop it! We’re already breaking the rules by sneaking out past 10 p.m. Tarnishing an overly-pampered lawn isn’t any worse.”

Before Phil has time to protest, Dan has already set foot on the forbidden pasture.

“Dan stop! For fuc-”

“Catch me if you can!”

The boy runs around in circles as Phil loiters on the edge, deliberating on whether or not he should join in, until he looks around the quad and, upon seeing nobody, finally decides to indulge in Dan’s game. They race around the turf, skidding and slipping and ripping up the grass. Phil tries to reach Dan, but no matter how hard he struggles he never seems to be able to catch up.

“What’s that Lester? Too slow are we?” Dan taunts, placing a hand on his hip.

That’s it, Phil thinks.

Time to put Dan in his place.

With a final burst of energy Phil lunges forward, hurtling himself towards the other man in a push that sends them crashing to the floor, foreheads colliding with a knock that’ll have both of them bruised by the time the sun shines.

“Ow, shit! My head!”

“You alright?”

Phil rolls off onto the cold lawn, swiftly disentangling himself from the mess of limbs as Dan pushes himself off the ground with a grunt of effort.

“Jesus Christ Phil! What are you, some sort of juggernaut?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

Dan breathes in deeply, eyes flitting over Phil’s body before travelling back up to meet him.

“Evidently not.”

There’s a moment of silence as they recover, and Phil notices that a few blades of grass are stuck to Dan’s face. Without thinking he reaches out a hand to brush them off, fingers briefly skimming across the surface of the boy’s cheek. Dan’s eyes are wide, and his breath is hot against Phil’s hand, lips parted as his eyes lock with Phil’s. There’s a presence in those eyes that Phil has seen before. Inspecting. Asking. Phil wants to trace his thumb across the surface of Dan’s panting mouth with those big, blinking, innocent eyes staring up at him, maybe slip in a finger and feel that soft, wet tongue...but the flare of uncertainty in his chest tells him to remove his hand, stand up from the ground, and say “shall we get going then?” in the steadiest voice he can muster.

After hoisting Dan up from the ground they creep across the quad towards the lodge where the porter sits. Or rather, where the porter normally sits.

“Hmmm. Still nobody here,” Dan confirms, crooking his head around the front desk.

Phil opens the latch of the small door and steps out. “Quickly then. We don’t want to get caught.” Dan hurries across the cobbled entrance, following him through the exit as it shuts behind them with a soft click.

As soon as they’re out the college gates Dan reaches into his coat and pulls out a small bottle of alcohol. Ah. That would explain a lot. He offers it to Phil, who nods in gratitude and takes a sip.

“Eurgh!”

Dan laughs. “You don’t like whiskey?” Phil screws his eyes shut, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the taste. “Ah well - more for me!”

On second thoughts, if Dan’s already drunk Phil doesn’t want to be the only one who’s sober, and so he reaches for the bottle with grabbing hands as Dan takes a healthy swig. Although he raises his eyebrows at Phil’s unexplained change of opinion, he hands it over regardless. As they amble through the streets Dan takes the drink back, downing it at an alarming rate, and by the time they’ve made their way to the highroad the vessel is as good as gone.

“Ah, here we are,” Dan cries, “the theatre!” Phil winces - he’s a little on the loud side.

“I saw a fan-tastic production here the other week. The Phantom of the Opera it was. Bloody blil..bloody brilliant,” he slurs, waving the empty bottle around in his hand. “Very fine chap playing Erik, very fine...” He sighs. “I wanted to be an opera singer, y’know. Dunno know what ‘appened to that.”

Phil frowns. “What d’you mean ‘dunno what happened to that’? You can still have a shot at it.”

“You know, that’s very true,” he mutters, “very true...”

As they walk down the deserted road the only sound to be heard is the clacking of their heeled shoes, until they turn down an ill-lit side-street and Dan begins to hum a tune that sounds familiar.

“Is that-”

“The Phantom of the Opera? You didn’t say you’d seen it!”

Before Phil can gush about his love of musicals, Dan unexpectedly bursts into song.

“Beneath the opera house,

I know he’s there,

He’s with me on the stage,

He’s everywhere.”

For a moment, Phil forgets how to think. He hadn’t expected Dan’s voice to be so high pitched, so silky and delicate and feminine.

“And when my song begins,

I always find,

The phantom of the opera is there,

Inside my mind.”

Dan nods his head as if expecting a reaction. Ah. The next part of the song is sung by The Phantom. Hesitant to embarrass himself but too tipsy to care, Phil takes in a deep breath and attempts to remember the lyrics.

“Since once again with me,

A strange duet.

I power over you,

Grow stronger yet.

You give your love to me,

For love is blind.

The phantom of the opera is now,

Your mastermind.”

He looks back at Dan, whose gawk transforms into a grin.

“Those who have seen your face,

Draw back in fear.

I am the mask you wear.”

Another expectant look from Dan. Oh!

“It’s me they hear!”

If he’s correct, they sing the next part together.

“My spirit and my voice,

In one command.

The Phantom of The Opera is there,

Inside your mind.”

Phil could have died on the spot - their voices sound amazing together. He turns around to beam at Dan, but Dan’s too busy acting to notice.

“The Phantom of the Opera,

He’s there.

The Phantom of the Opera.”

He waltzes out into the road, obviously getting into it. Phil follows, and their voices combine more.

“Sing once again with me,

A strange duet.”

“My power over you

Grows stronger yet.”

“You give your love to me ,

For love is blind.

The Phantom of The Opera is now,

My mastermind.”

“Sing my angel of music!” Phil cries.

“He’s there,

The Phan-tom of the O-per-aaaaa”

“Sing once again with me,

For a strange duet.”

Dan finishes off the song with the highest note Phil has ever heard come from a man. Bursting into laughter, he bows to a one-man audience as Phil claps and shouts “bravo!”, throwing invisible roses onto an invisible stage before turning to walk down the street.

“Thank you, thank you,” Dan giggles, buzzing with adrenaline as he looks at Phil, who responds with equal spirit. He isn’t quite sure what just happened, but something about their voices combining together like that felt spectacular. It felt special. As their smiles fade, Dan looks as though he wants to speak.

“Phil,” he begins, “can I...can I compliment you?”

“Of course.”

“You have the most incredible voice. Seriously.”

Phil is stupefied. Really? His voice, “incredible”?

Something wells up inside his chest, something wild and fleeting and frantic that makes him want to sprint and shout and bowl Dan over with a tackle or a hug or just give in to his long-restrained yearning and just grab his charming, boyish face and just kiss it-

Instead, he reaches out a hand, and lightly taps Dan on the nose with his finger.

“Phil, I think you are the strangest person that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Hey, you’re equally weird,” he teases.

“I know. That’s why I think you’re so wonderful.”

It’s his shy smile that tips Phil over the edge. He reaches out and pulls Dan into a hug that’s forceful and rough, throwing his arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tight as Dan instantly wraps his arms around him, gripping with equal vigour until they can’t get any closer.

“Thank you for agreeing to go on this mad walk with me. It’s just that I...I couldn’t sleep. This stupid performance is in two days and I’ve got so much work to do and I-” His voice cracks. Phil says nothing but rubs Dan’s back in consolation. After a while, the other boy pulls away.

“Sorry,” he mutters, avoiding Phil’s eye.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re stressed, it’s understandable. I don’t mind anyway, it was my pleasure.” They begin walking. “Don’t worry about all this school work, you’ve got enough time to sort it out before the performance. If you don’t finish it, who cares - you can do it over the holidays.”

With a big sniff, Dan nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“As for Friday, I’m sure it’ll go smoothly. If you fluff a line just get your sword out and start duelling the audience with your fencing skills. They won’t know what hit them. Literally.”

“Let's hope I don’t fluff anything then, because I don’t want to have to kill you in a sword fight.”

“Aha! How bold you are to assume that I would lose! In fact, I, Philip Michael Lester, otherwise known as... Lance Lester, am a master of sword fighting, known throughout the land for my trusty steel and quick foot.” He snatches at the bottle in Dan’s hand, holding it by its neck. “This was my father's poniard, do you see? I'd be loth to see 't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his.”

Dan cackles, high pitched and loud. “Oh Phil, you’re such a geek, you know that right?”

“Oi - that’s Lance Lester to you!”

“Oh yeah? More like Feeble Phil,” he teases, jabbing at the other boy’s stomach. It doesn’t take long before they start to pretend-fight, scuffling in the street and tussling with each other all the way back home, gradually getting louder and more competitive until they circle back to Turl Street.

“Hey, hey, shhh!” Phil hisses. “We’re back at my college.”

Dan unclences Phil from a headlock and looks up. “We are indeed. Let’s hope the door’s still unlocked.”

Phil gives it a gentle push, and it opens with a creak. Wriggling free from Dan’s grasp he slips into the entrance, standing with one foot it and one foot out, propping the door open with his chest.

“Well, good luck for rehearsals then. I’ll be at the chapel for…”

“For eight o’clock.”

“Eight o’clock. Right.”

Dan’s face falls.

“My God.”

“What? What’s the matter?”

“I nearly forgot. Oh, what a disaster that would have been.”

Phil raises an eyebrow.

“On the night of the performance the chap I share a room with is going out, so I’m inviting a handful of people back to my room for a little party afterwards. I kept meaning to invite you but I never got round to it. Please say you can make it!”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

Dan beams. “Perfect, I’ll see you there.”

He turns away and walks up the street, hands thrust into his trouser pockets as he hurries back to his room. Phil stands at the door, watching. When Dan reaches the corner of the road he turns his head to face backwards, and, although he’s too far away to be sure, Phil is certain that he can feel the warmth of a smile shooting through the air and landing on his breast like the golden tip of Cupid’s pointed arrow, spreading through his body with a tender warmth.

#my writing #phanfic #phandom #phan #phannie #Dan and Phil #dan howell #phil lester

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art-by-rozzai · 5 years ago

Text

had a bad day so more band au headcannons

anyone who wants to write a fic for this is absolutely allowed if they tag me, i’m not gonna make any full length ones but i might post some one shots eventually

anyway i had a really shitty day so here’s me self projecting and creating more band headcannons

check out the first here~

check out the second here~

tag list~

@athenashipsthings @thelesbianspoon @flowersheep @insert--self--hatred @nafsbluebery @sunflowerss0 @nerdiegurlie @stars-and-rose

okays lets do this✨

so last when we left the boys, it’s the day before they release their album “death of a bachelor”

to celebrate, roman suggests they get dinner out and maybe go see a movie??

logan is suprisingly the first to agree, saying that if he doesn’t get to watch the “scary stories to tell in the dark” movie soon he will explode. plus there’s no food in the fridge

virgil is also down to go see the movie, but is more reluctant to get dinner. he hates formal things, so to make him feel more comfortable roman offers they go to the local diner that he knows has virgil’s favorite chicken parm dish and virgil can’t say no to that

patton doesn’t want to see the movie at first-he really doesn’t like scary movies. but he wants dinner with his friends and he might be able to latch onto logan during the scary parts so he goes with it

so patton offers go help virgil with his hair and they end up getting ready together! they talk about everything they can think of as patton does hair and virgil does makeup and they both do each other’s nails and then they’re ready to go out whooooppp

meanwhile roman collapsed on logan’s bed an hour ago and began complaining about how he needed to impress virgil to get him to fall in love with him and has been talking ever since

logan doesn’t mind tho, roman helps him pick out a nice outfit and gives tips on how to woo patt

even though it’s not a date

yet

anyways they get to the diner and they all have an incredible time! by the end of the meal they’re in tears laughing at each other, from roman’s hysterical stories to virgil’s banter to logan’s fun facts and spilt tea to patton’s enthusiastic impressions

they love each over like family :)

and the movie is top notch. virgil is in love with it, him and logan spend the whole time guessing what’s going to happen while roman hides behind virgil and patton shoves his face full of popcorn and squish himself into logan’s arm

and yes virgil can’t stop laughing and logan’s immediate tensing up and blushing

after the movie they just don’t want to go to bed quite yet, so the friends head to the park and enjoy lying in the grass, talking and letting logan point out the stars while roman makes up stories of the aliens and space princesses that protect the galaxy

virgil makes everyone his famous hot chocolate and they stay up until midnight to release their songs

and then the clock strikes 12 and death of a bachelor is available to download

the boys decide that staying up and watching the comments flood in is a terrible idea and instead they put on some disney films and fall asleep on the couch

it’s nice

they wake up to millions of notifications

everyone is freaking the fuck out

this album ??? is beautiful ???

all of the fans are in love but also have a lot of questions-so the fab four start doing monthly live-streams to just chat and answer questions and catch up with their fans

“are y’all single?”

well yes

but uh

this question is not goOD ROMAN WHAT THE FU-

anyway virgil comes to patton one day, slams the door, puts his face in a pillow and screams “PATT IM SO GAY HELP”

because roman called his hair pretty this morning and yes it’s stupid and it happens all the time but this time was different

don’t worry tho they won’t admit their feelings to one and other for another three months

death of a bachelor does really well-all of the songs end up going either gold or platinum

their song “victorious” is played on the radio all of the time

so november rolls around and the friends decide it’s time to go on tour! starting with just north america, they post a video on the youtube channel that gives all the locations and dates

it’s to start in april:

virgil is extremely nervous. being on the road for so long and preforming live in front of thousands of people and will anyone even show up and-

logan is slightly nervous but honestly he really enjoys preforming-once he ties the tie around his head like a bandanna he almost transforms into the punk rock bassist he is known by the fans to be

patton!!! is!!! bouncy!!!!!!!! he wants to meet all these people!!!! and he can’t wait to give back to all of them by preforming and meet and greets and social interaction makes him really happy!!

roman is so excited-preforming is his thing. when he’s on a stage, he’s in his element! he can’t wait to show off and travel and be with his friends for even longer :)

but they can’t go on tour with their boring old instruments sooooo

roman and patton team up to paint and decorate all of the instruments

virgil’s piano matches his jacket, lots of purple and swirls and patton paints the classic nightmare before christmas scene on the front (u know, this one but stationary)

and they decorate the microphone stand purple and silver and black

logan gets a dope space themed bass-the outside is dark blue and the inside is painted like a galaxy, with a plain silver pick

roman paints his gutair with a castle and sunset in the back, with a bright red pick to play

patton’s drums have clouds on them nowww like a sunny day with blue puffy clouds

they’re ready to go! but it’s still only december so u kNoW whAt ThaT mEaNs

CHRISTMAS!!!!!

since none of the squad are jewish, (although technically patton is half jew since his mom is, but he just really loves christmas and always celebrated that growing up so)

they decide to celebrate at their house

they invite all of their close family to the apartment and have a lovely dinner

and yeah virgil doesn’t invite anyone cuz he was adopted by a shitty family who he doesn’t talk to anymore, bcuz all they did was try and get money out of him

and yeah he has a panic attack when all of his best friends are excitedly talking about their family coming over

and y e a h roman helps him calm down and swears that he will always b there to protect virgil bcuz he’s never met anyone quite like him and it’s not easy to explain but he just wants virgil to know he’s safe with roman

and yeah virgil wishes he could stop falling for roman but the ground keeps disappearing beneath him

so time skip a bit closer to christmas and logan bursts into romans room with an idea

“i can rap”

“we know”

“you can rap”

“kind of but okay”

“christmas rap song for fun”

“yeS”

so they write “gonna kill santa claus” (look it up) and decide to post it on the youtube channel on christmas eve

they film a music video for it where they jokingly set up different traps for santa like poison cookies and fire cracker chimneys and more

virgil sings the chorus, logan raps the rap parts, roman does the bridge, and patton lays down a pretty sick beat

it comes out really nice and honestly really fucking funny

so after a delightful family dinner with everyone over, the friends release that video and the internet fucking dies it’s so funny and logan can rap (??????) and ohmygod all of them are so cute what the fuck

anyway back to christmas dinner

roman has like 6 little sisters, and his mom and dad and papa and nana over

(he’s latino, his mom and dad are both from the dominican republic)

patton invites his mom and dad and little brothers, thomas and dee

and logan invites his two moms

everyone comes over for lunch and gets along reallyyyyyy well

logan’s got the punk mom and soft mom dynamic whereas, patton’s family is all super kind and like homey and boisterous and romans family is wild and crazy and funny and they all instantly click

presents are passed around, lots of money and books and movies and stickers and jewelry

really sweet stuff

and then everyone goes home and the friends have their own little gift exchange

virgil got logan the stephen king book “insomnia” and a (sort of) joke blanket with benedict cumberbatch’s face on it that he can use when he goes stargazing at night

logan gets virgil some noise cancelling headphones and a framed picture of a wedding with virgil’s face cropped on one and gerard ways face on the other

they both can’t stop laughing at the fact they attacked each other’s celeb crush

virgil gets patton a cute little cat stuffed animal that when u push the hand it’s a recording of all of them saying “we love you!!!” and a really sweet card

patton gets virgil a eyore necklace that was super expensive but matches patton’s winnie the pooh one and a itunes card for him to buy more music (and yes a really sweet card)

virgil gets roman two tickets to see mean girls on broadway and a framed picture of the two of them

yeah roman tears up a bit fuck u

roman gets virgil a collage of him and roman and a handmade hoodie that virgil is never going to take off oh and also meet and greet passes to see dan and phil at their interactive introverts tour

and maybe virge gets a little teary too

roman gets patton a recipie book and an apron that says “you BAKE my day”

patton gets roman a new ukelele and a printed out pamphlete of theatre song chords that he can play

roman gets logan the sherlock script and an empty box just to fuck with him

logan gets roman the entire grimm fairytale series and tapes a note to the front that says “bcuz u are an illiterate fool😜”

patton gets logan a phone case with the stars that were out on the day they met, hand painted framed picture of him and logan, and comic con tickets for this spring

logan gets patton tickets to the art museum downtown, a gift card to the coffee shop next to it, and two gold hoop earrings with a note that says “next week, friday at 7. it’s a date ;)”

so christmas is pretty good for all :))))))

and that’s the end of this one i’ll make a part four soon lmao

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philiie · 6 years ago

Text

I found this incredibly demon post in my notes from a couple months back that I wrote at 1am and I’m posting it now because why not

So many people ask how do we know that Dan and Phil are together? The short answer is, well we don't. There's nothing explicitly out there that says yes they are dating but to an extent, there's more.

It's more of a they know that we know that they know we know situation, where they do or say things were you could blink and miss it; where if you weren't really paying attention it's not overt enough to make a statement but it's still enough.

It's them moving into their third home together.

It's them planning their future with a 'we' and never an 'I'.

It's Phil calling Dan up onstage at the Boncas for an award he won himself in front of thousands of people just because he couldn't have done it without Dan.

It's someone asking Dan whether or not they're getting a dog and him saying that 'Phil wants a corgi, so we'll see'.

It's them saying that their current home isn't a 'forever home' assuming that any home they have will be together, even their final one.

It's Dan saying that he's going to have 'something else in and out of his mouth' and alluding to his active sex life when he doesn't go outside and happens to live with Phil.

It's Phil's mirror and shoes and straighteners in 'Dan's' room when he did his liveshow, even though he knew people would be able to pick up on it.

It's Dan himself proclaiming them 'best friends and soulmates' on their world tour.

It's Phil's jokes about how someone said 'do it with Dan. I think he meant something different' as a silent nod to yes we are going to make sex jokes about ourselves now because we ignored it for years and it clearly didn't work, and you know what we're fine with that now.

It's a video made 8 years ago where Phil bared his heart to the camera and it's a lie to say that we haven't all committed the entire thing to memory because you can't deny the sincerity.

It's the fact that even in public they're constantly touching be it shoulder nudges or just standing unnecessarily close to one another.

It's the flirty tweets and suggestive comments before they met, after they met, and arguably to this day.

It's Phil taking pretty candids of Dan and thinking they are cute enough to post on his own Instagram for no reason other than ‘stop being so damn pretty dan howell’.

It's their holidays together just the two of them even though they spend all their time together.

It's the looks™ where the meaning is pretty damn clear.

It's the fact that they haven't spent longer than 2 weeks apart in years.

It's Dan going on Lester family holidays because honestly, he is family.

It's Phil leaving to the North for a couple days and Dan sad tweeting their emoji text conversations and face timing just because he misses him.

It's how Phil went from 'AmazingPhil' to 'my flatmate Phil' to 'my friend Phil' to 'Phil who some of you may know' to just 'Phil' with no clarification whatsoever.

It’s the shoulder touches and the face touches and the freaking leg touches that we get to see on camera, let alone whatever’s off camera.

It's how it's not Dan and Phil, it's DanandPhil and there's a difference.

But who are we kidding, they are definitely just bros™

#phan #shut up sadiyah #phanfic #(their entire life basically is one so thats a valid tag leaf me alone)#proof #100 #200 #300 #400 #500

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thelamppoststation · 6 years ago

Text

Future’s Past by TheLampPost

In 2008, a year after James managed to get off that godforsaken rock, he receives a visit from a young woman with blue eyes and blonde hair. She hands him a locket and a letter, then demands answers to questions that he didn't even know existed. Post season 6 (Suliet) - This story is also partly set during the DHARMA days.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: Wonder

DHARMA Initiative: Motor Pool, July 1975

"I'm pretty sure it's the engine. It's been giving me trouble for the past week and a half. There's this odd ticking sound," Phil jerked his index-finger back and forth, "that just won't let up."

"Uhu."

"I'm pretty sure I saw some smoke in my rear-view the other day as well."

"Uhu."

"And the backlight is busted."

"Uhu."

"Look, I would have brought it in sooner, but you know how LaFleur gets."

Danny snorted.

"I do, do I?"

"He's been up my ass all week about clocking in late. I told him, 'listen, I can't help it, sleep paralysis is a real thing, you know?' But he's just not been in a very sympathetic mood, lately."

"Uhu."

Danny stepped around back and unlocked the latch on the blue VW T2. He groaned, scratched the back of his head, reaching for a non-existing itch that was easier to define than the inside of this particular engine. That was a lie. He understood perfectly well. Trouble was, he didn't care to understand. Good American vans were easy to come by nowadays. In fact, just the other day he heard Mitchell talk about the latest Chevrolets, how they're taking the market by storm, and yet folks here imported German vans. German. Vans. It was irritating, not up to par, and he should have objected to this detail when they first assigned it to him. After all, his skill lay in engineering, not fixing Nazi cars.

He closed the latch and sighed; Phil was still babbling away in his left ear, something about sleep apnoea and narcolepsy. Where did the Initiative find this guy, anyway?

"I'll have Juliet take a look at it."

"Juliet?"

Phil's thick brows shot up, not quite disappearing beneath his thinning hairline.

"She's s'posed to start her shift at one."

"Juliet Carlson?"

"Uhu."

"You hiring women these days?"

Danny shrugged.

"Many of them emancipated ones want to grease up, try out some real jobs; I ain't complaining, the view's been much improved since she started tinkering away," he winked and motioned for Phil to step closer. "Nimble fingers, that one's got," Phil's eyes widened and Danny playfully punched him in the arm.

"You and her?"

"Ha! I wish. Pretty sure she's got a thing for your boss."

"LaFleur?!" Phil frowned. "How'd you figure that?"

"He comes 'round here lookin' for them blonde locks more often than Linus beats up his kid in a drunken frenzy."

"Danny!" Phil exclaimed, then dropped his voice to a low whisper. "We don't talk about that."

"We ain't talkin' 'bout lotsa things that's goin' on 'round here. Don't mean it don't happen, Phil."

"It's none of our business."

"Yeah? You gone say that to his kid if ever he come knockin' on ya door for help? 'Ain't none of my business, kid. Scram?' Or what about them recruits we buried last week? I ain't seen a single letter went out to them families. We also just gone pretend that ain't our business?"

The truth of the matter was, Danny wasn't wrong, he knew he wasn't; too many things were happening on the island that consistently and conveniently escaped members' attention. Just the other day, after he'd caught Linus beating the shit out of his sad puppy of a kid again, it occurred to him that he just couldn't be the only one who'd ever been witness to such a plain show of domestic abuse. How could he be? What a farce! The D.I. endlessly prattled on about life and death, war and peace, love and hate; they talked about everything that went above and beyond mere mortal comprehension; yet, when it really came down to it – whenever, Roger would turn up drunk for his shift again, or Ben showed up to class with a black eye and busted glasses – well, if anyone'd ask him, he'd say the DHARMA folk just didn't want to see. 'Them things that truly need fixin', them things that matter in the here and now; them such things don't matter to the DHARMA fuckin' Initiative.'

"It ain't! - I mean, it isn't!" Phil nervously pulled at his sleeves.

"Uhu," Danny sniffed. "Guess it ain't, then."

"Hi boys!"

Phil jumped, unprepared for the sudden intrusion. Danny jerked around, a genuine 100-watt smile gracing his face. At least the island provided him with some distractions; them nice blue eyes surely gave him palpitations from time to time.

"Well, well, if it ain't Jules. You early, doll. Your shift don't start 'til one."

"Hi Phil."

"Juliet," Phil gave her a curt nod, his eyes darting off to the side.

"I left early yesterday, figured I'd make up for the time today."

"Well, you're in luck. Phil here says his van needs some lovin'; told him you're just the gal he's lookin' for."

She grinned and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Suppose she's not your type, eh?"

"Nah, you know how I like 'em, big and busty. None of that angular, wide eyed crap" he winked.

Juliet shook her head, unable to hide the amusement that tugged at the corners of her lips.

She should be more outraged by such sexual innuendos, but this was Danny, and Danny was about as threatening as a baby hippopotamus. Ever since she'd signed up for the motor pool detail she'd expected backlash, ridicule, jokes about her inability to hold a screwdriver the right way up. But instead of huffing and puffing about her true place being in the kitchen, Danny had surprised her. His open-mindedness about her abilities made her feel welcome, and as a result she embraced his testing and teasing with a smile rather than a grimace. Also, she was capable of making some pretty sharp remarks of her own keeping Danny on his toes plenty.

"What seems to be the problem?"

She stepped closer to the van, and turned her attention back to Phil. He gave her an odd look and a quick once over before spewing forth an incomprehensible string off words.

"I – uh," a twitch tugged at his eye.

"I – eh," he scraped his throat.

"The engine is ticking and – uh– I."

He pulled at his collar.

"Uh, backlight –."

Danny sniggered, and put an arm around Phil's shoulder.

"The engine is givin' 'im some hiccups, and you're gonna wanna replace the backlight," he said.

"Right," Phil nodded. "That."

"Okay, no problem. I'll see what I can do," she moved towards the work station and slipped her gloves on. "Check back in at the end of the afternoon."

Phil gave her another curt nod.

"Anything else?"

"No," he said, his eyes sliding up and down her jumpsuit once more, then he turned to Danny, pursed his lips and said:

"See you later, Dan."

"later, Phil."

Juliet tilted her head to the side as she watched Phil stalk off in the direction of the barracks.

"What's with Phil?"

"What ain't with Phil?" he snorted.

She laughed.

" 'S got his panties all tied up in a knot when he heard his boss and you are sweet on each other."

She froze; the look in Danny's eyes imparting far more than she was willing to acknowledge. How in the hell did that rumor spread about?

"Where'd you hear that?" she asked, leaping back into movement. She opened the van's front latch, and propped the hood up.

"You ain't foolin' anyone, doll. He's up here more often than he's out 'n 'bout checkin' perimeters. Always somethin' "broke" on his VW. Uhu," he winked.

"It's not like that, Danny. You know that."

"I'm just tellin' 'em how I see 'em, doll. And I sure seen lotsa ogling happenin' 'round these parts lately."

"I'm telling you, you're seeing it wrong."

"I am, am I?"

He tapped his nose, then shrugged and slammed his hand against the side of the van.

"Don't forget to freshen the oil, doll," He turned away. "I'll be in my office. Say hi to LaFleur when he stops by."

He walked away.

"Shit," she whispered under her breath.

He wasn't wrong, James had been stopping by a lot, lately. In fact, his van would randomly break down at least twice a week, and whenever he wasn't able to make it to the motor pool he'd find some way to lure her out into the jungle. Not Mitchell, not Tom, not Danny; he always requested her. Stolen moments between noon and night time, where the undergrowth, vines and muddy soil created noisy friction and impossibly to wash out stains. To think that they were getting away with it, she snorted. So much for keeping the "un" out of the "complicated".

"Shit, shit, shit," she pulled off her gloves, and threw them back onto the work station.

"What ya cursin' at the world for, Blondie?"

And there he was, just like Danny said he would be; a dimpled smirk plastered onto the side of his face. She felt a flutter pull at her insides as he leaned against Phil's van and crossed his arms in front of his chest. There was a slight spark in his eyes today, burning holes into carefully constructed resolutions; just by looking at him she was already breaking promises that she'd only just made.

Fuck.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped.

"Thought you might wa–… you in some kind of trouble, or somethin'?"

She huffed.

"Danny thinks he's got us all figured out," she motioned between them.

"Oh…"

"Yeah, oh."

She shook her head and turned away from the station, but before she could brush by him he caught her arm in mid-stride. Another wave of flutters raced through her body, tripling her heartbeat; a thousand tiny wings flapping in the darkness, tying her to the present. This was crazy. What they'd been doing was crazy. There was a time, not too long ago, that these exact same eyes had looked at her with disgust. When he'd banded together with Sayid, had watched her from the corners of narrowed eyes. Nothing would have pleased him more than to have put a bullet through her head when she'd walked away with Claire's medicine, having revealed more about his life than she should have been able to know. But now? His hand pulled her back searing dark marks of desire into her skin. Now, he wanted her.

"It don't have to matter," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"We don't have to keep hidin'. Maybe, we should just try the whole out-in-the-open thing."

"The out-in-the-open thing?" she rolled her eyes.

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't actually. What do you mean, James?"

He smirked, his eyes sparkling with unleashed mischief; a second later he'd turned her to him and pushed her back against the side of the van, knocking the wind clean out of her.

She gasped, within seconds he had two, three, four buttons undone on her jumpsuit.

"You startin' to comprehend, doctor Burke?" he whispered into her ear as one of his hands disappeared down her jumpsuit. A shiver ran across her spine, and his lips curved against her throat; his slight kisses travelling upward, only momentarily halting to nip at her skin here, then there. This wasn't exactly the answer she'd been looking for, but as his lips found hers, his intentions read loud and clear. She responded without protest, not even wanting to resist, caught up in the lure of their game, she almost didn't hear…

"Ehum, ehum."

Her eyes flew open; the unmistakable cough of an accidental voyeur.

"James," she pushed at his shoulders, his grip tightened.

"James," she repeated.

He let out a low grunt but pulled back.

She coaxed her head in the direction of the sound; James half-turned, then a sly smile spread across his face and she mentally rolled her eyes. Of course, he would be excited about getting caught red-handed, he practically lived for the thrill of forbidden moments like these; out in the open, yet, far enough away from prying eyes.

"Goodmornin' Doctor Long," he said, his hands leisurely sliding out of her jumpsuit.

"Mr. LaFleur. Miss Carlson."

Juliet's cheeks flushed a brighter shade of red, but Long hardly seemed to notice. If anything, he looked rather blasé about the matter, as though he'd just taken a sip of a particularly bitter cup of coffee and had decided that nothing could possibly ruin his day more.

"What brings ya to this neck of the woods?"

"I was hoping to have a word with miss Carlson, here" Long said, studying the undone buttons on her jumpsuit with a raised eyebrow.

James inclined his head.

"Don't let me stop ya."

"In private," he added.

Juliet looked up in surprise; what could possibly be so important that it demanded her immediate attention? He could hardly be here about a van. Long did everything on foot; good for the lungs, he said. Suppose he didn't consider chain smoking his way through DHARMA meetings a tad more hazardous to his health than a sedentary lifestyle. Not for the first time since they'd arrived she'd marvelled at the general attitude of the 70s; 'the era of the wilfully ignorant and the blissfully blind', Miles had said at some point. He might be onto something there.

"You OK?" James asked, pulling her attention back to the present.

"Yeah," she nodded, finishing buttoning up her jumpsuit. "I'll finish up here; I'll see you tonight."

"OK, then," he shrugged, the subtle shift in his demeanour conveying that he was anything but OK with the abrupt brush off, but he would let it go for now.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Don't forget to bring the tacos."

"As long as you bring the game."

He laughed and winked.

"Count on it, Blondie."

With a knot in her stomach she watched him go. He'd soon realize that the stars in his eyes weren't truly meant for her. He longed for green emeralds, and lush brown curls. She knew; her name had slipped from his lips in his sleep on more than one occasion. It hurt. It hurt a lot. But neither time travel nor distance could make him want her. He had to come to that conclusion on his own. He might never, and that was OK too. It wasn't supposed to mean anything anyway.

She shook the thoughts from her head.

"What can I do for you, Doctor?"

"I'd rather we talk some place private. I do not usually discuss topics of a delicate nature out in the open like this."

"Delicate?"

Didn't he just clear her last week?

"Should I be worried?"

The way he stood there, chin up in full on doctor mode; it gave her pause. It was familiar. Too familiar. She used to approach women in the clinic in a similar manner. When their hopes of seeing two pink lines would be dashed by that disappointing singular one. 'I'm sorry; maybe, next time,' she'd say.

But Long wasn't a fertility doctor, and he certainty wouldn't be alluding to a next time of any sort, not after all he'd just been privy to.

"Let's go to my office, shall we?" his expression remained void of emotion and it did nothing to reassure her. She could almost hear James whisper in her ear: 'He'd make for a great Other. Stoic. Empty eyes. Soulless. Kinda like you in the beinning.'

She followed him across the square to the infirmary; inside Alice and Debra were seated behind long white desks. Fragments of excited conversation fluttered about the room, the air filled with an ease that she'd never quite associated with the infirmary before. She greeted them, and they responded in kind.

"Juliet," Long began, after he'd closed his office door behind her.

"Please, sit."

She almost laughed out loud; the irony of the situation crept through thick layers of unwritten pieces of paper and sticky post-it notes on yellow bare walls, this used to be her office. Or rather, it would be, 26 years from now. In her time, it looked more desolate, discolored paint peeling off the ceiling and walls, pieces of brown tape desperately trying to hold onto corners of hastily torn off leaflets. Here, right now, it looked freshly painted; no marks of wear or the inevitable sense of dread that would soon inhibit the place; it even smelled better.

"We found something in your blood that I think we should discuss."

"Oh?"

"How have you been feeling, lately?"

She shrugged.

"Just some headaches, but nothing so bad it'd be worth mentioning. Why?"

"You and LaFleur have you been seeing each other long?"

She narrowed her eyes at him; that was an odd question. What did that have to do with anything? And besides –

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Well, it becomes our business when you decide to procreate."

"Excuse me?"

"Procreate, it means –"

"I know what it means; I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"The DHARMA Initiative has rules about pregnancies, Juliet. You have to submit the proper documents, and apply for absence of leave so that you can be thoroughly examined on the mainland before try outs start," he paused. "Unless you've decided to leave the island, of course. Obvously, you'd be free to do whatever you want, then."

"Try outs? What are you–?"

"There's no need to deny it; according to the data you provided last year you're not in the habit of regulating your menses, you've not been prescribed any type of birth control, and the Initiative has been denied requests to import male contraceptives. That only leaves us with one possible scenario. You planned for this to happen," he hesitated. "I'm a little surprised, though. Did you really think you could hide it from us? Surely, you must have known there'd come a time we'd find out."

She stared, her eyes all but rolling out of her skull.

"You're saying, I'm…?"

She shook her head. No, no, no.

"You're wrong,"

Something must have gone wrong with her blood test; a mix up, maybe. A false positive, surely. She grabbed the file from his desk and started flipping through it. The RFLP and SNP aligned perfectly with what she remembered from her med-school results. Her brows knit together. These were hers, but…

"It has to be a false positive."

"We're quite sure."

"I can't be pregnant."

"According to our–"

"You're not listening to me; I can't get pregnant."

Long frowned.

"You mean; you haven't been able to conceive until now?"

"No," was she really going to have to spell it out? Was he that dim?" I'm infertile."

It hurt to say; she'd never actually said it out loud before.

Long appeared confounded.

"You're infertile?"

"Yes, I – I– "

How could she ever explain that the adult version of the boy who currently lived three barracks down the road from her had been the cause of her infertility? How could she begin to explain that in 26 years' time he was going to lure her to the island, and lay claim to her as though she was his slave to keep: 'After everything I've done to get you here! After everything I've done to keep you here! How could you possibly not understand…that you're mine?!'

Ben had forced her hand, and after all this time the memories of that day continued to fester like big open wounds, growing more and more repulsive each day.

"There's this drug called Chlorhydelone. It's a trial drug," she began. "I took it a little over a year ago."

"Why?"

Why?

She watched little Benjamin Linus sometimes, from the window inside her barrack; the sight of him always ignited confusion. She hated him, but she also pitied him; a dichotomy of indecision forevermore debating with unrelenting thoughts, wracking havoc with her original proclamations.

He'd glanced up once, as though he'd sensed her eyes on him, and they'd stared at each other; this broken boy with his busted Harry Potter glasses complete with duck tape, minus scar, and the object of his future obsession, staring. She'd hastily stepped away, and pulled the shutters down with a force that vibrated through the entire house.

"I was told that it was safe," she lied. "But eventually, I learned that the effects of the drug had done irreparable damage to my reproductive organs."

Long shook his head.

"What was the trial for? Why didn't you mention this during your first medical exam?"

"I didn't think it worth mentioning."

"You didn't think infertility would be worth mentioning?" Long pinched the bridge of his nose, and leaned forward on his desk. "Juliet, don't get me wrong, this truly is quite a remarkable story. But you have to understand that from where I'm sitting, I'm having some trouble piecing together certain facts; why would you be involved in this? How did you get involved? Were there more people who were being tested on like you?"

"Evan," she put her arms on the desk, mirroring him. "I can't talk about the experiments, or who performed them," she lied. "And I didn't mention it, because–" she looked away, the painful reminder of what had happened in the weeks following her actions bubbled to the surface. It surprised her how much of that faded pain still felt so fresh.

"Because I couldn't."

Long regarded her with calculated suspicion over the rim of his aviator glasses. Then he sighed and pushed himself up from his chair.

"You should have been more forthcoming, Juliet. We could have run our own tests. This island–" he stopped.

"This island, what?" she repeated, knowing full well where he'd intended to go with that line of thought.

"Forget it," he waved the thought away with his hand. "The truth of the matter is that the tests we conduct here are very accurate. If what you're saying is true, then there's only one way to confirm it."

She nodded.

"I understand."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DHARMA Initiative: Infirmary, July 1975

"This is going to be a little cold."

Debra applied the thick blue gel to her belly, squirting it out over her skin with flowery adolescent strokes. She shivered, her bellybutton's repurposed design looking oddly disturbing in all of its crooked glory. Debra laughed.

"First time?"

Juliet nodded, not quite sure how else to respond. She'd been through the motions countless times before: apply the gel, clearly express what the patient can expect, apply the proper amount of pressure to the probe, move it in the longitudinal plane across the belly–

"Longitudinal."

"Sorry?"

"You're holding it wrong."

Debra frowned.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," she placed her fingers on top of the young nurse's hand. "Let me show you."

Debra started to protest, but Juliet was already moving the transducer down to her pubic bone. She applied a little more pressure, and slowly maneuvered the device upward.

"See?"

Almost instantly an image popped up on the monitor.

Debra turned her head, her frown deepened as she scratched her head with her other hand.

"How did you know?"

"Just simple logi–" She trailed; her eyes arrested by the image on the monitor, an unmistakable flutter catching her attention. It appeared at the bottom of the screen, a steady rhythm, corroborated by the rapid thumping that emanated from the monitor's speakers. A heartbeat.

Her hands flew to her mouth.

"Omph! Careful," Debra said.

It was small. So small. She'd almost missed it; the size of a raspberry, and because she knew where to look did she see the tiniest of hands shift ever so slightly into view, showing signs of life that could not possibly be thriving inside her body.

"Oh my–" she whispered.

Up until that moment she'd been so sure. There'd been no morning sickness; no sign or indication of any sort that her body was preparing itself for radical changes. For all intense and purposes the Chlorhydelone should have completely destroyed both of her fallopian tubes and uterus. She hadn't had her period in months, and yet here she was bearing witness to the impossible.

She moved closer to the screen; Debra shifted the probe into a different position to accommodate her better.

"It looks to be about–"

"63 days," Juliet whispered. "9 weeks."

"How–?"

"I just do," she swallowed hard; her breath catching in her throat.

"Well," Debra shrugged, and turned her attention back to the monitor. "It looks healthy. Strong."

"It does," she smiled, betrayed by the tremor in her hand as she reached for the screen. Still captivated by the image, the tightness in her chest continued to expand further and further, until soft drops of relief and sadness carved red roads of opportunity down her cheeks. "It really does."

There was so much that she wished she could say to the young nurse, yet there was so very little she could actually reveal. The DHARMA Initiative would never understand the true power of the island. How it healed the irreparable, cure the terminal, restore fertility. But also, how it could take all of that away in the blink of an eye. Over the years she'd learned how the island acted as some type of enabler, pulling strings on puppets through time and space per Jacob's request. And now, she appeared to be in the eye of its hurricane.

She abruptly pulled her shirt down; the image on the screen cut off.

"Wha–?!" Debra started.

"I have to go."

"We're not done, yet!"

"I can't stay."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I am sooo excited to be sharing parts of this story with you guys already! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to drop a line. It's going to be quite a ride. I don't even know how long this story is going to be, but it took me about a month to work out all of the details. I know how it ends! Just don't know how long it will take for me to get there! It will definitely be a Suliet story, but MANY of the other characters will also appear in this story, along with some original characters, like Danny! For every subsequent chapter and section I'll insert a place and time, because if I don't do that it will turn into a mess very quickly. So, I recommend that before you start reading each section you take note of where all of the characters in the story are and at what time!

Other than that, I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter! And if you got this far, thank you so much for reading!

#Suliet #Juliet Burke #Juliet Carlson #James Ford #Sawyer #LaFleur #1975 #Daniel Faraday #Jin-soo kwon #Lost #Dharma Initiative #Fanfiction #Multichapter #Future's Past #Miles Straume

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dailydnp · 6 years ago

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"It’s always a dangerous game asking the crowd to get involved in a show..." - Dan and Phil talk new DVD Interactive Introverts

Daniel Howell and Phil Lester, better known as simply Dan and Phil, began life as YouTubers, amassing a huge online following with their zany videos and antics.

With hundreds of millions of views, the pair were soon in demand over the next few years scored a show on Radio 1, presenting gigs and even their own documentary.

At the end of 2015, the pair decided to step out from the camera and went out live with their first stand-up tour. That tour, The Amazing Tour Is Not On Fire, was a big success, and a follow-up was demanded. That arrived this year in the shape of new show Interactive Introverts.

This time, the pair handed over control to their audiences, promising them rants, roasts, battles, stories and more surprises. Now the show has been captured on DVD and is now available in hmv stores and here in hmv's online store.

With the DVD now on shelves, we spoke to the pair about the inspiration behind Interactive Introverts and the perils of audience participation...

Can you talk us through the inspiration for Interactive Introverts?

Dan: "We were thinking like if we were about to both get hit by a meteor and spectacularly cease to exist forever, what would we want to do in this show?"

Phil: "The answer is give the people what they want! It’s not about us or what we want - just giving our audience the best time of their lives."

Dan: "The entire show is about that, but who are the people? Are they all the same? What do they want? Why do they want it? Is it even a good idea to give it to them? All about the relationship between artists/creators and the audiences that violently consume them."

Phil: "And so the idea for our show was birthed! As for the name.. well we’re two introverts who don’t really leave the house or talk to people and here we are handing ourselves to hundreds of thousands of people. Kind of funny and ironic."

Dan: "And catchy."

What did you want to do differently from The Amazing Tour Is Not On Fire run?

Phil: "Our first ever stage show was basically the ultimate celebration of the history of ‘Dan and Phil’ on YouTube. Literally, every word was an inside joke to something and it was insanely over the top and amazing, but for this new show we wanted it to be funny for anyone."

"You can take the jokes and the meaning behind all the parts of the show and apply it to any fandom which is really interesting! My parents understood this one which says a lot."

Dan: "Also we wanted to shake up the style of what we did in the show. Our first one was mainly scripted with a few interactive segments which were always the highlight, but given the name of the show, we knew this one had to be almost entirely controlled by the audience."

"This was awesome as every show was different and reflected back on who was in the room that night, but it was also incredibly fun for us to do a mix of stand up/sketches and improv based on the interesting things the audience wanted from us."

You allowed audience members to input their own questions and polls via your own website, did that ever bring any unexpected results?

Dan: "Every town is totally different, it was hilarious! Turns out most people in the UK and USA just want to laugh at us and for us to suffer for their amusement, but in places like Russia and Manila, they were so kind and wholesome, even when we were literally asking to be roasted."

Phil: "It’s always a dangerous game asking the crowd to get involved in a show, that’s what made it so hilarious though!"

You took the tour to 18 different countries, were there any particular highlights on the run?

Phil: "When you say it like that I suddenly feel really tired. We performed the show 82 times can you believe that?! I loved travelling across the USA in a tour bus, looking out the window at all the strip malls filled with IHOP’s. I had a dank Denny’s ‘breakfast slam’ at 2am in Florida."

Dan: "Phil mainly enjoyed the USA for the breakfasts. I loved going to all the far-out places we’d never been before like New Zealand and Mumbai! The craziest thing is no matter where we went in the world everyone had the same sense of humour and meme references, it’s a small internet after all."

You filmed the DVD in Los Angeles, why did you decide to do it there?

Dan: "The audiences in LA are wild."

Phil: "It’s true! Having performed live there a few times we know it’s always a good crowd and being halfway through our tour we knew we’d be good at performing the show by then."

Dan: "The people in the room in the film are so diverse from all age ranges, including a couple of terrified fathers who were quaking in fear that we’d interact with them. They were so animated though!"

"Our audience close ups in this film aren’t people sitting down politely clapping - we have people standing up and jeering, throwing themselves on the floor laughing and even an ironic dab which we had to highlight in shame."

What are you going to be up to in 2019?

Dan: "That’s a good one! Sleeping."

Phil: "Dan’s gonna be like an angry bear deep in a cave that you should only approach with a sharp stick. We’re both gonna chill after our insane adventure this year then think about some new cool stuff we might try."

Dan: "Everyone knows we both like to try new things whether it’s Radio, writing or even game designing so I think each of us will look within and see what we’re tingling for next."

Have you started planning your next live tour?

Dan: "Yes in 2019, I’m going to do a tour of a remote mountain top that I will fly to and live in solitude."

Phil: "Can I do a tour of places that serve sweet breakfasts? I’ll happily do a show about that."

(link)

#amazingphil #danisnotonfire #daniel howell #dan and phil #phan #interactive introverts #mine #100*

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danfanciesphil · 6 years ago

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too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

Ao3 Link

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four

Chapter Five

On Friday morning, after breakfast has been cleared, Mona is going over all of the things Dan needs to stay on top of over the weekend, when someone knocks on the front door. Both of them turn to the noise, obviously startled. They’re 7,000 feet up the side of a mountain. Visitors aren’t a frequent occurrence.

In the next moment, Mona gathers herself, smooths down her jacket lapels and goes to answer the door. As soon as she opens it, Kaspar bursts through, brandishing a pair of electric blue skis, a smallish parcel under his arm, and a pile of letters secured with string.

“My gorgeous Mona!” he exclaims, dropping everything onto the side-table nearby in order to pull her into a hug. He dwarfs her small frame with his big, beefy arms, but she doesn’t struggle, patting Kaspar politely on the shoulder and waiting for him to have had his fill. “Your eyes, they shine brighter than the sun glinting off the mountain snow. Your skin is the colour of a young fawn-”

“G-good morning, Kaspar,” Mona stammers out quickly once she’s been released. Her cheeks are now tinged a deep pink. “Shall I take these?”

She reaches past him to pluck the bundle of letters from the table. “My beauty,” Kaspar says, catching her by the arm as she attempts to grapple with the skis. “Allow me to lift your burdens. I will take care of everything. I can read you each letter one by one-”

“I’m perfectly capable of reading my own mail, Kaspar,” Mona interrupts sternly, though her cheeks are practically aflame at this point. Dan watches on in amusement, pretending to be busy on the reception computer. “Though I would appreciate your help taking the skis up to the top floor.”

“My angel, if you asked I would let you sail down the mountain on by back,” Kaspar cries, to which Mona rolls her eyes, but does let out a tiny smile.

Kaspar lifts the skis onto his shoulder, then reaches for the parcel. Dan jumps to his feet so abruptly that he knocks the computer mouse off the desk. Mona and Kaspar turn in surprise at the sound.

“I’ll take the other parcel,” Dan blurts, catching the mouse from where it swings from its cord, and placing it carefully back on the mousepad. “It’s for Mr Novokoric, right?”

Mona plucks the package from Kaspar and studies the name on the label, frowning. “How did you know that?”

“He... mentioned that he’d ordered a new phone.”

Something about this response makes Mona’s eyes widen. “He… told you that?”

“Yes,” Dan says, that niggling sense that he’s missing something rearing its head once again. “Is that strange?”

Mona shrugs, but gives him a once over. “No, no, that’s fine. Take the package. You can lead the way to Mr Novokoric’s room. Show Kaspar where it is.”

“Little Dan, you are my sherpa,” Kaspar declares, grinning. Armed with the skis resting over his broad shoulder, Kaspar appears rather menacing. “Lead on.”

Ducking as Kaspar turns to and fro, expressively admiring the lobby interior as Mona blushes and accepts compliments, Dan goes to collect the package from the table. Mona summons the courage to ask Kaspar whether he’d like a coffee before he leaves again, and Kaspar’s enthusiasm for this nearly severs Dan’s neck from his shoulders.

He scurries quickly towards the stairs, assuming that Kaspar will follow once he’s done fawning over the manager. As they begin the ascent, Kaspar prattles on about how the blizzard that was forecast for today is nowhere to be seen, and that Kaspar himself knows far more than ‘those baboons with their balloons and barometers’ ever will. Dan just nods along, unable to get a word in edgeways even if he were so inclined.

In truth, Dan’s rather glad of Kaspar’s non-stop chatter, as he himself is too busy trying to understand why he’s voluntarily hurled himself into this situation. On most days, he barely has to converse with Phil at all, and that’s just fine. The less they speak to one another, the less chance there is for Dan’s day to be ruined by whatever insult Phil lets slip as casually as Kaspar comments on the weather. Now, for some reason, he’s willingly placed himself in the line of fire. For the life of him, Dan cannot understand it, but something about watching Mona and Kaspar had shaken free an urgent desire to see Phil. To deliver the first bit of good news the man has probably gotten in quite some time.

“I think now we are another thousand feet up!” Kaspar jokes as they emerge on the top floor landing.

Dan manages a polite titter in response. “It’s room eight,” he says, gesturing to Phil’s door.

The hallway is silent apart from Dan and Kaspar’s breathing from the climb. Kaspar has an excuse, given that he’s lugging enormous skis; Dan’s parcel isn’t that heavy, but he is incredibly unfit. Part of Dan wishes he could take a moment to get his breath back before knocking on Phil’s door, but explaining this would probably only confuse Kaspar, so he decides to just go for it.

He knocks, just as Kaspar begins to sing breathily - something Swiss and jaunty that Dan is pretty sure is out of tune. The door opens after a while, and Phil stands there, his shirt half-buttoned, his hair ruffled and messy. He looks like he’s just been ravished in the enormous four-poster bed Dan can see behind him.

“We- our- Kaspar- um, we have a- packages for- um. Here.” Mostly to stop his mouth from doing whatever it’s doing, Dan pushes the box into Phil’s hands.

Phil gives him a curious look, then moves his attention to Kaspar and the skis. “Oh, awesome,” he says, then seems to remember himself. “I mean, that’s excellent, Kaspar. Thank you for bringing those up.”

He takes a step to one side in the doorway, letting a still-singing Kaspar swan through into Phil’s suite. Even from his limited viewpoint, it’s clear to Dan that this room is three times the size of his own next door, and far more luxurious. There’s a chaise longue, for one thing, and a window seat, and a huge wall-mounted television.

“And where would you like me to put these, Philly?” Kaspar asks in his loud, jolly voice.

Dan’s eyebrows shoot towards the ceiling. Philly?

It might be Dan’s imagination, but he thinks he sees a light blush skimming atop Phil’s high cheekbones. “In the cupboard, if you don’t mind, Kaspar.”

“Of course,” Kaspar replies, springing out of sight somewhere deeper into the suite.

Phil turns back to Dan, then looks down at the box he’s been given. “Thanks for this,” he says, unexpectedly. “I’m going mad without a phone.”

“No problem. I mean, Mona ordered it, I’m just the delivery boy.”

Phil nods, and a painful silence falls. Dan, having always detested awkwardness, cannot let it just sit on their shoulders, so for some reason says, “try not to chuck this one off a mountain!”

It’s a joke, of course, but Phil doesn’t laugh. Instead, his lips press together, and Dan remembers - idiot, idiot, idiot - that the information about what happened to Phil’s previous phone was gleaned from eavesdropping on a phone call he had with his husband.

“I hear we’re going to be alone over the next few days,” Phil says, swiftly changing the subject, to Dan’s relief.

“Mona and Louise are away, yeah,” Dan says, not bothering to hide the dread in his voice. “There’s another couple of guests, but yeah it’ll just be me in terms of staff-”

“I thought the other couple cancelled?”

Dan freezes, staring at Phil as a gelatinous glob of horror trickles down his spine. “W-what?”

“I was speaking with Mona last night,” Phil says. “I think she said the other guests called to say they were too worried about the forecast blizzard.”

Just then, Kaspar re-emerges, arms empty of skis, beaming away as he squeezes past them back through the door. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Philly. Come now, little Dan, let us leave him to his duties.”

The corner of Phil’s mouth twitches when he hears the phrase ‘little Dan’, which is mildly embarrassing, but Dan is too boggled to feel it too deeply. Instead, Dan nods vaguely at Phil, who says nothing more, and then follows Kaspar back down the hall, past his own room, towards the stairs.

“Well of course I was going to mention it, Dan,” Mona says distractedly, taking the coffee Dan made - courtesy of Louise’s careful tuition - and placing it down in front of Kaspar, who takes her hand and kisses it. She pulls free of him quickly, flushing for the umpteenth time, and turns back to Dan. “Honestly, I thought you’d be relieved! Now you won’t have to worry about keeping guests happy. You just have to make sure the place doesn’t blow up.”

“I think you’re forgetting one guest,” Dan can’t help but point out. “You’re leaving me alone here with- with- him!”

Louise’s snicker echoes through the kitchen behind him, and Dan makes a mental note to ‘accidentally’ spray her with coffee during their next lesson.

“What’s the problem, exactly?” Mona asks, a touch impatiently. Her eyes are flicking back towards Kaspar, who is patting the chair beside his emphatically. “Louise seems to be under the impression that you and Mr Novokoric had straightened things out.”

“He apologised to Dan very nicely for upsetting him!” Louise calls unhelpfully from somewhere behind him.

Mona gives Dan a satisfied smile. “There, nothing to worry about then. Besides, I doubt you’ll see much of him. Of course you’ll need to deliver his meals to his room if he wants them. Louise can show you what needs doing with that. But apart from that, the man barely ever makes a peep.”

Begrudgingly, Dan nods, and Mona turns from him, making her way back over to Kaspar’s table. Dan watches her being flirted with for a few minutes, bemoaning his decision to take this bloody job, which has landed him a whole two days with a spoiled member of Swiss Royalty. His stomach flips as he considers the length of time stretching ahead, with just the two of them, up here, all alone. Then, he sighs, heads back into the kitchen, and calls for Louise to come and show him how to make a macchiato again.

Kaspar stays until the evening, with the excuse that he might as well stay until it’s time to escort Mona and Louise down the mountain. Louise is leaving for the weekend in order to see her daughter, Pearl, who lives with her father in Sussex, England. The nature of Louise’s job, along with certain court sentences that Dan doesn’t have the heart to ask about yet, means that she only gets to see Pearl a few times a year. It’s understandable therefore, that even though Mona has to be away this weekend as well, Louise can’t be expected to give up one of her rare opportunities to spend time with her child.

Dan stands with the two women in the lobby, trying not to let his distress leak into his expression as he drinks in the sight of them, bundled in thick coats, laden with luggage, about to abandon him up here, alone. Well, almost alone.

“I took Phil some shepherd’s pie up to his room an hour or so ago,” Louise tells Dan. “So he shouldn’t need anything until the morning.”

“Just don’t do anything to aggravate him,” Mona says in a low voice, zipping up her coat. “Remember he’s our best customer.”

Before Dan can snort derisively, the front door opens and Kaspar walks through, strutting across the lobby to place a large hand on each of the women’s shoulders. “Your carriage has arrived, pretty ladies,” he says, beaming. “I will load your cases.”

Avoiding his eye, Mona primly hands over her suitcase to Kaspar, and Louise all but chucks her own bag into his arms. Dan bites his thumbnail; in just a few minutes, they’ll be gone entirely. For two whole days.

Sensing his quiet distress, Louise comes over and squeezes her arms around him. “You’ll be fine. There’s a week’s worth of meals in the freezer. Your macchiatos haven’t killed anyone in hours. And Phil’s about as scary as a honey bee, once you see past his sting.”

“Thanks, Lou. Have fun with Pearl,” Dan replies, forcing a smile. He chooses not to mention his acute fear (and allergy) of bees.

“I’ll see you on Monday, dweeb,” she says, releasing him.

Mona takes hold of one of Dan’s hands in both of hers then, her eyes round and desperately searching for reassurance. “You’ll be alright, won’t you Dan?”

For a brief moment, he thinks about saying no, and begging her to stay. But he could never be so cruel. A sick grandmother is a pretty damn good reason to cry off a job she works insane hours for, for a couple of days. “Yeah, of course,” Dan says, stretching that forced smile. “Don’t worry about a thing, I’ve got the schedule down. Breakfast served at three, right?”

Mona sends him one of the ‘not funny’ looks she usually reserves for Louise. In a strange way, this makes him feel a bit better, like he’s been accepted as part of her trusted team. “I’ll see you in a couple of days,” she says, then gives his upper arms a quick squeeze.

Kaspar returns from loading their luggage, and the three of them head for the door, squawking about how cold it’s going to be, and how Kaspar’s inevitably going to make them fear for their lives by rocking the car to and fro, just to watch them shriek. They call a final goodbye to Dan, and with a cheery wave, Kaspar pulls the door firmly shut behind them.

For a few long moments, all Dan does is stare at the place they just were. Then, his eyes lift towards the ceiling, as if he could see straight through it, all the way up to the top floor, where Phil is… well. Who knows what he’s doing in that room. Throwing darts at a smiling photo of Dan’s face, perhaps.

He sighs, then sits down at the desk, wondering what to do with himself. In half an hour, it will be ten o’clock, the time his shift normally ends. It’s unlikely that Mr Novokoric will appear before then, so Dan could just call it a night, and go to bed. If he was really needed for any reason, Mr Novokoric could knock on his door. He sincerely hopes that he won’t do this, however. The idea of Phil seeing Dan, in his mismatching pyjamas and red-eyed from his night-time cry, is a horrifying one.

Mostly out of fear of Mr Novokoric needing him and Dan not being around, which could lead to him telling Mona he’s an incapable idiot, Dan remains where he is, rigid in his reception seat, until the clock strikes ten. Then, he gets up and begins doing all the things on the ‘end of the day’ checklist Mona went over with him numerous times. Lock the front door. Switch off the computer. Lock the door to the office. Turn off the lobby lights. Up to the mezzanine. Tidy any stray books, games or blankets left lying around. Lock the balcony doors. Go into the kitchen, turn off the oven, wipe down the countertops. Lights off. Up the stairs to the guest room floor. Lights off in the hallway. Up the final set of stairs. Open door to room. Linger in the hall staring at the light under the door of room eight. Go into room. Pyjamas. Clean teeth. Bed. Cry. Music. Stop crying. Listen. Sleep.

The snow is wet, but not as cold as he’d imagined. Dan is spread-eagled, on his back in the thick of it. Above him is an endless stretch of blue so pale it looks almost grey. He wonders if perhaps he’s laid in the sky, and is looking down at the Earth. To dispel this theory, a crow flies above him, circling once, before swooping down to perch on his chest. Dan breathes out a wash of steam.

“Hello,” Dan says.

The crow squawks. Hello.

“I’m not sure where I am,” Dan admits.

His usual state of anxiety is gone for now. Despite his ignorance of what’s happening, he’s quite enjoying not knowing what’s next. He feels buoyant and free. Unless someone were gazing down from a cloud or a very tall tree, they’d never spot him in the midst of this landscape of white. That thought is a comforting one.

The crow opens its beak again, and squawks several times. You will find yourself soon.

Dan nods thoughtfully. The crow stamps its small, twiglet feet on Dan’s chest. “It’s nice to have some time away,” Dan says. “I’m sad, but at least it’s just me that’s sad.”

The crow pecks lightly at Dan’s nose. You don’t make people sad, Dan.

“I feel like I disappoint people,” Dan says, honestly. “My parents. Beth. I’m sure I’ll eventually disappoint Mona too. And Louise. I’ve already disappointed one of the guests.”

The crow stretches out one wing, and tucks its beak into the crook, then squawks, people disappoint themselves. They expect things you cannot always provide. This is not your fault.

“Maybe.” Dan considers the crow’s point, staring into its mass of oil-slick feathers. A jet, beady eye pokes out, holding his gaze. “You’re very wise.”

The crow extends both wings. And you are stronger than you know.

Before Dan can say anything else, the crow flaps its wings, beating gusts of cool air into Dan’s face, and takes off, soaring into the pale sky. It flies higher and higher, until it’s nothing but a black speck, and then out of view entirely. The snow is melting from his body heat beneath him, and he is beginning to sink down. For a moment, Dan is tempted to let himself be engulfed, to disappear into the white plains of this place. But he knows the crow is watching him, even from wherever it flew. The crow is waiting for Dan to move, to fight the feeling of unworthiness that’s pushing him down. So, he sits up; the cold snow slides down his back. He grits his teeth, focused on a faraway melody, and stands.

Dan wakes up in his bed with a sense of vigour about him. His dream had been unusual, to say the least, but has instilled a determination in him. He’s got the lay of the land now; he can run this place for forty-eight hours. There aren’t even any guests to look after, aside from one. He gets ready quickly, shrouded in his new cape of confidence, and goes downstairs to set up for a likely needless breakfast.

As soon as he walks into the mezzanine lounge, he stops short at the sight of Phil Novokoric sat at one of the indoor tables, reading a book, a mug of coffee in his hand. The cape of confidence flies off Dan’s shoulders, sweeping off into the stratosphere.

“Oh. Good- good morning, Mr Novokoric,” Dan manages, only stumbling slightly as he edges towards the kitchen. “Um, Phil, I mean.”

Phil lifts his head from his book, azure eyes glinting. “Good morning, Dan.”

“You’ve… already got a coffee, then?”

Phil lifts an eyebrow, looking briefly down at the mug he’s holding. “It would appear so.”

“Great,” Dan says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the sarcasm. It takes a moment for the implication of this to sink in, given that Louise couldn’t have made it for him, but when it does, Dan narrows his eyes. “How?”

“It’s an instant coffee,” Phil says, wrinkling his nose.

“Oh,” Dan says, then his stomach flips. He’s going to have to ask, isn’t he? Oh, crap. “Would- would you like a macchiato?”

Phil assesses him carefully, setting his book down. “Alright,” he says after a moment.

Oh no. Dan’s been practicing like mad for two days with Louise, but he’s still not totally confident about his aptitude with the coffee machine. Nevertheless, he’s offered now, and he has to grant the request of the customer, no exceptions. Bracing himself for ridicule, or possibly just a sneer of contempt, Dan nods, and disappears into the kitchen.

He makes four different macchiatos, each of which seem to turn out slightly differently, much to his dismay. He tries to time the frothing of the milk, to clean the nozzle rigorously each time. In the end, he just selects the one that most resembles Louise’s perfect macchiatos that she can seem to whip up without looking, and takes a deep breath before bringing it out to Phil. He’s trembling as he places it down on the table, which Phil definitely notices, but doesn’t comment on, thankfully.

Phil peers at the coffee, scrutinising, then brings it to his nose for a gentle sniff. “Remembered the caramel this time, then,” he mutters, and Dan only just stops himself from finding the caramel syrup in the kitchen and upending it over his head.

Phil takes a cautious sip, then another, and then an actual gulp. He lowers the mug, eyebrows raised, and places it carefully back on the table. Dan only realises he’s hovering, watching Phil’s reaction with hawk-like attention, when Phil fixes him with a bemused stare and says, “thanks.”

He turns his attention back to his book, and Dan realises he’s being dismissed. “Oh. No problem.”

He steps back with an absurd little bow of his head; Phil might let out a tiny smile, but Dan can’t be sure if it’s because he thinks Dan’s an idiot, or because of something amusing in his book. Either way, he needs to leave before he humiliates himself properly. He heads back into the kitchen and unearths one of Louise’s homemade loaves of bread, which he then cuts four thick slices of. He toasts them under the grill, then spreads them with butter and plum jam. He puts two on one plate, and two on another, then carries them out of the kitchen. He places one plate down in front of Phil, who looks up in surprise, and then scurries downstairs to reception with his own plate before Phil can say anything. Dan eats his breakfast in between chores - sweeping the lobby, unlocking the doors, and setting up for the day.

Eventually, he runs out of things to do, and though he really would rather not go back upstairs and make more embarrassing small talk with Phil, he has no other choice. He picks up his empty plate from the desk, and heads back up to the mezzanine area. Mercifully, Phil’s table is now devoid of Phil, though his book and mugs are still there. He’s taken two bites out of one slice of toast. It’s been a while though, so Dan assumes he must have finished, and takes the plate into the kitchen along with his own. It seems a waste to throw an entire untouched piece of toast into the bin, so Dan scoffs that one too, humming a Muse song as he chews, and washing plates. As he’s swallowing the last bit, he hears the sound of a throat clearing, and turns, only slightly choking on toast crumbs, towards the noise.

Phil is at the serving hatch, his big crimson ski jacket on, and a faintly amused expression on his face. He pushes the two mugs across the hatch. “What is that you’re humming?” He frowns, as if trying to place it. “Sounds familiar.”

“Oh, it’s a Muse song.” Dan’s hands are soapy, dripping at his sides. He shakes the suds off them, self-consciously.

“Right,” Phil says. “Never liked Muse. All their songs sound the same.”

Another reason to detest this fool. Clearly he has no taste in music. Aside from… classical, perhaps.

“Each to their own,” Dan says in an attempt at brightness, then walks over to collect the dirty mugs from him. Just as he turns to leave, Phil reaches out and catches Dan’s wrist. It’s a light, soft touch, and is gone again the next second, but Dan feels as if he’s been zapped with 10,000 volts. He freezes, just about managing to hang onto the cups. “Er-”

“Come skiing with me,” Phil says, knocking Dan out of orbit.

(Chapter Six!)

#phan #phanfic #too high #enemies to lovers au

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phanfictioncatalogue · 3 years ago

Text

(TW) Mental Health (2) Masterlist

part one

boys they wanna paint me (ao3) - chickenfree

Summary: It’s not like Phil’s never had a boy stay over, but they’ve never done this.

catatonia (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Some days Dan just can't move.

Don't Leave Me (ao3) - phanmindpalace

Summary: Dan suffers from PTSD. He has a flashback whilst at Phil’s apartment and Phil finds him on the bathroom floor shaking and sobbing. Comfort and fluff ensues.

Equilibrium (ao3) - breatherepeat

Summary: During the process of living his truth, Dan and his brother develop a new understanding of one another.

From the Passenger Seat (ao3) - Allthephils

Summary: Sometimes clarity hovers just beyond reach and you have to get in the car and drive till you find it.

Going Forward (ao3) - softiejace

Summary: When Phil Lester signs his students up for a mental health workshop, no scenario he's prepared for includes running into his ex...

invincible (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: the first day after is like a breath of fresh air

I wonder if I'll ever let go (ao3) - thesassykels66

Summary: Dan comes home from a long day of speeches and talks, putting on brave faces and shuffling through his cue-cards. Feeling all that weight of trying so hard, and succeeding, wash away when he finds Phil wearing a face mask.

Let the Human In - rainbowchristy

Summary: It’s just a regular workday for Phil. Doing rounds with his patients, helping out with the occasional emergency department case. The only difference? He has one new patient in the ED. One found unconscious on the street. One who starts throwing up from seemingly nothing. One, with a very dark backstory and no hope for the future.

Life's a Beach (ao3) - thewakeless

Summary: A year in the life of Dan and Phil, and their mental health.

Monochrome (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: When you build your life out of fear that your mental illness could worsen, it leaves little room for excitement. Luckily, Dan has found a space online where he feels comfortable.

One Thousand Midnights or More (ao3) - JudeAraya

Summary: A decade of love told in moments.

picture imperfect (ao3) - intoapuddle, jestbee

Summary: He knows Dan hates to be patient. What he wants is for Phil to get on with it, to overwhelm him with sensation so much that he can no longer think about all the expectations he's failing to fulfill. But Phil knows better.

restless (ao3) - overwhelmedbysonder

Summary: Breathe. Just breathe.

In. Out. In. Out. In.

It’s not that I don’t try. I see my family, my friends, visiting with their faked smiles and forced laughter, desperately trying to pretend that things are fine, that nothing’s changed. I see them and I want to reach out, I want to look at them and smile and reassure them that I’m here and I’m fine and I’m here, but I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

Or, the one where Phil struggles with depression, PTSD and being mute, and Dan just wants to hug him.

Sutures (ao3) - jerseker

Summary: Phil returns to the forever home after a week away, just in time to pull Dan out of his negative thought spiral.

they just don't get it (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: Dan sometimes jokes about things that aren't a joke

Unraveling (ao3) - princejoohoney

Summary: Dan knew he was different from other children very early on. He never lost his 'imaginary friends', they only became a more integral part of his life. Living with his illness is never easy and with a secret as large as his, cracks are bound to appear. While he isn't ashamed of his DID, he knows the consequences of telling the wrong people.

when we need the truth (ao3) - wrongbed

Summary: Phil falls in love with Dan and everything is perfect, until it’s not.

(this is my take on the glorious 2009-2012 phan period, featuring Phil “Everything Is Fine” Lester and Dan “Prince of Angst” Howell)

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #mentalhealth #mentalhealth masterlist

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bye-hadfun · 6 years ago

Text

under the neon lights

Chapter One: December 1st, 2012

Trigger Warnings: slight homophobia

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: despite everything, they’re still together, and that’s what matters to Dan.

Or, alternatively, two times dnp visit nyc to see the ball drop

Written for the @phandomreversebang , inspired by @catzoomies beautiful art, and beta’d by the lovely and supportive @ty-ly-bby / @literally-just-fandoms

i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Ao3 link

‘Fuck off.’

‘Excuse me? I’ve been nothing but patient Dan. What more do you want from me-’

‘I said fuck off.’ Dan slammed his door with a sort of finalty, a short breath escaping from his throat. He doesn’t mean to hurt Phil, ever, but these days the sky seems a bit duller than usual, and words are too much for Dan. He’ll apologize later and Phil will accept, and they will eat dinner and pretend that nothing’s wrong with Dan, with their relationship, with their life. That’s just how they work.

He can hear Phil in the lounge, talking on his phone, voice distant yet still decipherable. He know he shouldn’t, yet Dan still puts his ear to the wall, desperate to hear even a sliver of Phil’s normal voice. It’s been ages since they’ve had a calm conversation. Not that they ever talk much at all these days.

‘I just don't know what to do. Everything is so messy, you know? Sometimes I regret even moving in with him.’

There was silence on the other end and Dan assumed it was just Kath speaking. Hopefully.

‘I do love him, but love can only do so much. If this keeps up- what am I even going to do? Break up with him?”

Dan let out an involuntary gasp at that one. Even at the worst points in their relationship, he never assumed either of them would consider breaking up. It was Phil and Dan, Dan and Phil, the inseparable duo. Whatever he said in the videos, it was just a defense mechanism, and Phil knew that, right?

“I know, mum, but what would you do? I doubt you and Dad had these problems- and even if you did, this is the internet. You’ve never known anything like this, Mum. It’s terrifying.” Phil stifled a sob. “They’re everywhere, prying and spreading hate. We just want to live, and they won’t let us. Why does everything have to be about our relationship? Even if they found out, what would they do with the information? Can’t they just enjoy our content and shut up?”

Phil has his own way with words. Whilst Dan had emotional blow ups, Phil had, what could best be described as his word clusterfuck breakdown moments. He spoke less, compared to Dan, but that boy could talk his way out of a murder if he so wished. That, combined with his Eenglish degree, Dan sometimes thoughtthink that he would’ve been a better lawyer than Dan if he wasn’t so damn empathetic.

But that empathy is basically the only thing holding their relationship together at the moment, so he should be thankful.

Should he?

Sometimes, late at night under the covers, when they had had an argument and tears were threatening to spill, Dan wished that he never met Phil. Sure, he’d be miserable at law school and forced to be a lawyer for the rest of his life, but he wouldn’t harbour this immense sense of loss and heartbreak.

He never meant to hurt Phil- god,he hated seeing Phil sad. He would do anything just to put a smile on that boy’s face, and whatever Phil wanted, Dan would provide. Once upon a time, before the dreaded video leak, he was sure that Phil would too. Now? He’s not so sure.

Dan is slowly retreating back into his mind now, bringing back bad memories of The Day, and losing focus of the phone call in the living room. Hazily, he thinks it might be his brain’s shitty way of trying to protect him from what he might overhear, but it was too late. The memories were already returning, flooding his senses and drowning out the world. It was just him, his brain, and- Phil. Being tagged in every one of Dan’s mentions, their twitters, social media, and messages blowing up, and Phil crying on their kitchen floor, because of course the video leaked whilst they were making breakfast. Their most peaceful and normal routine, broken by the irregular and madness of the internet. Every tweet was about the same, and that ought to balance out the stress, but it didn’t. They kept pouring in, tens and thousands of the same message with different varieties, and every one of them just added fuel to Phil’s tears.

They had dealt with this once before. They could do it again.

Dan remembered it clear as day: Him, calmly picking up Phil’s phone and going onto YouTube to private the video again, tweeting out their response ‘It was just a joke we made!’, answering the texts from their family and friends, soothing those who knew and deflecting those who didn’t. Turning and hugging Phil from time to time when his sobs grew louder, when he saw in the corner of his eyes that he was shrinking into himself. He smoothed down his hair and comforted him, reassuring him that it was all ok. Gentle whispers of ‘I love you, it’s going to be ok’ murmured against skin.

Phil, after four hours and one cup of hot chocolate, ceased crying and started to help Dan fix things. He remembered Phil smiling sadly and saying, “Isn’t it sad, Bear, that all this is just a PR nightmare for someone else? Yet it’s hell for us.”

Dan whipped his head over to look at Phil, to try to comfort him somehow, but Phil only shaked his head slightly and started to reply to some of Marianne’s emails. It was for the best. Dan wasn’t even sure what he could say- ‘It’s not like that?’ ‘Don’t you dare talk about our relationship like that?’ Every word he said would just make the situation worse.

So he kept his mouth shut, and they plundered through their phones for the rest of the day, until the emails ceased, their text messages was cleared, and Twitter calmed down. (Or at least some of them had enough sense to stop tagging them). They went to Phil’s room, closed all the blinds, and burrowed under the bedsheets, whispering their sorrows and apologies.

Dan had finally let himself cry, and Phil had held him, his own tears dropping on Dan’s hair, and for the first time, Dan had doubted their relationship. Whether it was a good idea, two teenagers meeting on the Internet and working on a job online, where everything is exposed to the public?

But then Phil kissed him on the forehead and snuggled in closer to Dan’s neck, and Dan is grateful. No matter what happens, YouTube brought them together, and he’ll forever be grateful for that. Even if shit like this happens.

As he drifted off to sleep, he was vaguely aware of Phil’s tears on his neck, faint sniffling coming from his side. Frowning, he reached out for Phil’s face, wanting to wipe the tears tracks off his face, but Phil just gently pushed him away with a wet chuckle, and so he let sleep drag him into consciousness.

He still doesn’t know why Phil cried. He just know that, the next day when he woke up, Phil was back to his normal self again, all traces of sadness gone, a sharp glint of anger to his eyes. That was the same day they sent a harshly-worded letter to YouTube, informing them of their slip-up in the system. They received not a response, but an entire update ensuring ‘more privacy for creators’. Phil had smiled coldly at that.

It scared Dan sometimes, when Phil’s coldness shows. He’s truly different when he’s angry, and Dan would never like to be at the other side of his wrath. Dan had only seen it in action, once, when Dan was called a slur on a train ride. Phil had gone still, so still that Dan’s brain couldn’t register when he saw Phil’s fist connecting with the guy’s face. One moment to the next, and Phil was pummeling the living lights out of the dude. By the time Dan could react, the guy was already backing up, holding his hands up in surrender. Tugging Phil gently away from the scene, hoping not to trigger anything else, they made it back to the apartment. They never talked about it.

Dan was brought out from his reverie by Phil’s gentle knocking on the door.

“Dan? I don’t know if you’re still angry, but i made pasta. I’ll leave a plate for you in the fridge if you don’t come out in thirty.” There was a little pause on the other side of the door, almost like Phil was hesitating, before he continued to speak. “You know i love you, right? I really wish I could help you with your problems, but I can’t always do that when you’re stuck in your head.”

As Phil walked away, immense panic washed over Dan. What if this was it? They’re going to break up, and Dan’s going to get his heart broken, move back in with his parents, and his YouTube dream might as well die. Most importantly, he’ll lose Phil. Phil, who’s so patient with him every time he has a breakdown. Phil, who loves him so much that he’s willing to put up with his ‘scared of the dark’ bullshit, closing the lights after Dan’s been securely tucked up in bed, soft fairy lights illuminating the room whilst waiting for him. Phil, the person who got him through some of his darkest days.

He has to try, for Phil.

Dan’s looking around the room, searching for ideas to make it up to Phil, when it hit him. Phil’s been talking about going to NYC for years now, since they first started Skyping. The man had a weird affinity for touristy places, and Dan could never understand why. But it was Phil, and wherever Phil went, he would go.

Quickly typing in the Google search bar, he found what he wanted and smiled. A genuine one, a rare sight these days. He winced a bit at the price - but it was worth it. Hopefully. Dan scanned their schedule briefly, just to make sure they were completely free. He didn’t want to receive an angry phone call or email from their nice (also hot-tempered, but you didn’t hear that from Dan) manager, Marianne, scolding them because they missed a potentially important meeting. It still amazed Dan that YouTubers actually had meetings to attend, brand deals to accept, deadlines to meet. There wasn’t the pressure of an office job, but it was still jarring, how YouTube was an actual job. It made him feel like a celebrity. But of course, he thought to himself, amused, we’re not actually stars that can attend important events.

Focusing back on the monitor, Dan entered his credit card number, and confirmed the transaction. Sure, it was a noticeable dent in his bank account, but they had the Radio 1 gig later on anyways. It couldn’t hurt that much to have a nice week long holiday with his boyfriend.

Especially if it meant saving their crumbling relationship.

Humming softly under his breath, Dan unlocked his door and practically skipped out to the lounge. He’ll try his best to keep his temper in check. He was in an exceptionally good mood, and suspected that Phil would be too, once he got the news. It was no Japan, but New York City couldn’t be that far off.

“Phil?” Dan yelled down the stairs. This was new to him, having to shout to alert the other. In the Manchester apartment, the space was so small, so cramped, sometimes Dan wondered if Phil could hear him through the wall singing songs whilst he edited. His suspicions were confirmed one day when he broke off in the middle of the Llama song and Phil picked it up. He nearly choked on his drink. The Manchester apartment was filled with fond memories. He hoped that this one would be too.

“Yeah?” Phil was answering in a struggling voice, which meant either a) he was holding something heavy, or b) he was taking out his contacts and was trying not to poke himself in the eye. Dan was secretly pleased he knew Phil well enough to know this.

“Have you had dinner yet? I wanna watch a show with you while we eat, if that’s fine?” Dan said this with some preparation of disappointment. Given that he had just yelled in his face, Dan was sure that Phil would be salty, even if he had cooked dinner.

There was a slight pause, and then Phil replied, “Yeah sure, just let me finish taking off my contacts first!”

Dan did a little fist pump in the air for getting scenario b right, then turned back to the kitchen to get the pasta Phil had promised. Taking care to close all the cupboard doors first so he wouldn’t get a weirdly shaped bruise on his face for the next week and drop their pasta in the process, he managed to safely get the pasta on two plates and make it out to the lounge.

Phil was there already, looking a bit anxious with his glasses on, seated on the sofa changing the channels mindlessly. It was immensely cute. Dan smiled for a bit, stalling in the hallway before walking over to the couch, promptly plopping himself next to Phil. Depositing one of the plates on Phil’s lap, he blurted out what he had been meaning to say for the past half hour.

“I’m sorry.”

Phil, originally planning on devouring the plate of pasta, paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “What?” He stared at Dan disbelievingly, almost as if he couldn’t believe- oh.

He never did apologize to Phil, huh. He’d always just assume that the unspoken apology was enough, that Phil understood him. It was a shitty move.

“I’m sorry. For yelling at you this afternoon. It was unprecedented and you didn’t deserve it, and you even made pasta for me.” Staring down at his plate, Dan collected himself before speaking again. “I’m just scared, you know? I don’t want us to fall apart because of some mean comments on the internet. But they’re under my skin constantly, talking about things they have absolutely no business meddling in.”

“Is it really so hard for us to be just- us? Dan and Phil? Sometimes, i swear, it feels like it's the whole world against us. The turmoil, the battles, the accusations, they're overwhelming.”

Phil smiled a bit. “Dan and Phil Versus the world, huh.”

Dan broke into a grin, and replied, “Dan and Phil Versus the world.”

And so for the first time in what seemed like months, Dan fell asleep peacefully, with Phil by his side, all of their problems thrown out the window.

The ticket can wait, Dan decided. He'll wait till it's right.

Until then, he'll just let himself be held by Phil, feeling safe and warm in their own little world.

#danielhowell #amazingphil #dan and phil #phandom #phanfic #my fics #prb

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babethepig · 6 years ago

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Just showing up to scream into the void how freaking much I love the story that some amazing person wrote for me for the Phanfiction Events' spring fest.

I cannot quite believe someone really wrote such a beautiful thing for me, is all that I asked for and ten thousand times more. I jokingly threw in my prompts the Letter for a young lady in Paris' plot without a lot of hope for it to get picked because it can be a little weird but when my secret buddy let me know they were using it I got so excited, I have been looking forward to the reveal since May started and I spent the whole morning refreshing and refreshing @phanfictionevents waiting for the fics.

There are so many things I absolutely love about like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere), for starters, the title. I love poetry, I love long and pretty titles, you got me hooked from the beginning. Then poor baby Dan showing up to the gardens in formal clothing, I love him, that made laugh. Phil is the sweetest person to walk the earth, helping Dan out and sharing his clothes and his lunch... I'm emotional.

I love Alice and Nina, so tough on the outside but soft in the inside, they were both a very good addition to the story, I love Nina teasing Dan -and Phil- every time they got a chance, it was hilarious. Also, I was very intrigued every time Nina implied that Dan's mood changed the weather umm... did I read to much into that? haha.

Loved all the plant jokes 100/10.

Dan and Phil interacting with cute animals is my weakness, I love that Phil was so protective over the bunnies and that Dan was so invested in protecting them too because Phil would be sad if something bad happened to them 'cause Phil was like their mum -lmao- he reminded me of Queen Anne and her bunnies from The Favourite.

Overall, the development of their relationship felt so right, so wholesome, like a breeze of fresh air. I loved to read them discovering their feelings, learning to trust each other so much. Phil being there for Dan, helping him through panic attacks a reassuring him that it's fine no to have it all figured out. I also loved to see Dan accepting help, not only from Phil but from his mum and even from a therapist, he had a big grow through the story, and I'm totally here for that.

I had so much fun reading the story, I died of sugar overload every time they did something sweet, I was totally melted by the end.

Well... don't wanna make this into a whole essay. I'm so grateful for this story and everyone should go and give it a read -please-.

like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere)

#phanfiction #phanfic #absolute favorite

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jestbee · 6 years ago

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THE FINAL GOOGLE FEUD - timestamps

That video was one of my favourites in a while so here are some timestamps under the cut

They’re quite Phil heavy... for some reason.

00:20 Dan advises we shouldn’t get up to anything we wouldn’t tweet. Phil disagrees and saying you ‘get up to a lot when you aren’t tweeting’ um... what things, Phil?

00:29 they’ve tucked their webcam on the tv away - They’re so into privacy. Not that they’re shouldn’t be, of course, it’s just an observation.

00:43 Phil sometimes runs through the lounge naked when he forgets a towel. I mean the bathroom is on another floor entirely Phil but... good to know.

01:00 Dan says “people aren’t going to delete their hard drives so what are they going to do with these recordings...” I mean, I know he’s talking about the recordings from Siri etc but I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of recordings Dan has on his hard drive he doesn’t want someone getting a hold of

01:22 Crazy eyes Phil is in full effect in this video. They’re both a mess. I love them.

01:31 not too crazy to forget getting that spon in though, are you Phil?

01:45 Phil’s northern ‘where my bloody phone’ is just lovely

01:49 Phil’s voice is a lil bit off-camera and I like it

02:03 Dan used to have dry skin, now it’s oily. I think it might be just age mate, mine used to be oily now it’s dry... these things happen.

02:07 you ‘forgot’ did you Dan? Or maybe you’re not as up on your memes as your purport to be and had to look that one up

02:23 the ice cap was better. Thank you for an opinion, Phil.

02:38 Dan doesn’t want one of the Try New Things t-shirts. I am disappoint.

02:42 garbled amazingphilshop.com spon

02:46 I love it when they instantly know which song the other is going to sing and join in. Synchronised

02:54 Phil back with his nipple obssession

02:55 do they call it a Prince Albert in other countries? Do people outside the UK get that joke?

03:00 Phil is offended nipple isn’t included

03:10 “the dirty place” Oh, Phil. Come on.

03:16 Ladydoor, really? I thought we got past this

03:27 Dan’s whiny little “you don’t deserve it” nice.

03:34 Phil dreams some weird stuff, and Dan is sceptical because he knows all of Phil’s family

03:52 Phil thinks eyebrow piercings look pretty cool

03:57 Phil is offended at the idea of people getting BOTH nipples pierced. apparently his nipple obsession only extends to one nipple at a time.

04:20 Phil calls Dan out for not being cultured.

04:29 synchronised rocking starts

04:36 synchronised rocking stops

04:49 The phone rings - Phil’s phone voice is adorable

05:53 This entire section is pure GOLD - Why is Phil so flirty?

05:03 Phil’s “No I can’t, I don’t have legs” reminds me of interactions between @ineverhadmyinternetphase and @charlottekath for some reason. I am surrounded by adorkable nerds who are too cute for this world.

05:13 them unspokenly knowing they’re doing best of 3 in rock paper scissors... just that long standing tradition going strong to this day. beautiful.

05:19 Phil: Shall we do a mukbang instead of this video? (Not that I’m not enjoying this video, Phil. But Yes please eat your pizza and 10 thousand dips with us!)

05:32 How Phil managed to keep that white tshirt clean while eating pizza is beyond me.

05:58 Phil: Men can be milked Dan: *oh-my-god-why-is-he-like-this expression*

06:14 Phil almost does that shoulder punchy thing he does to Dan

06:21 Phil back with the nipple talk - this time it’s about whales

06:27 Dan makes bull semen joke, Phil explains it away to simple kicking

06:54 no Capita£ester jokes because they are getting tired but, like.. Phil you are a millionaire.

07:05 I’m not sure what Dan is really trying to say here but lol for the extra spinning tour spon.

07:09 Dan guesses dog AGAIN. Also, ‘Same’ suddenly those pet play fics aren’t that far fetched huh?

07:29 Dan is so done with this game

07:41 Phil is starting to get annoyed - cute lil neck grab

07:49 Phil has told the whole kid-drawing-hands story before, I’m pretty sure

08:08 Dan guessing dog pays off - Phil is not amused

08:25 even less amused that cat doesn’t work

08:40 - 08:58 Phil debates on whether to put sharks as an answer

09:12 Phil: “A tampon, see I said!” When? What did they cut out?

09:18 Why the eyebrows over shingles... what do you think shingles are, Dan?

09:28 Dan is done with this game again because it isn’t relatable to him specifically

09:31 Phil gets it wrong again and head desks for the first time

09:36 I can’t help but think the Jestina thing started as something a little closer to home and Phil is in on the joke. Idk. Does Dan have an Aunt Jess or something? Also, why Peru? idgi

09:52 Phil’s expression on the “what?” is... idk. I liked it.

10:02 finally Phil gets one right - Dan isn’t impressed

10:07 Dan, wtf is this accent?

10:14 Phil attempts to skip the question and cut it from the video. Didn’t work, did it?

10:20 Phil forgets the category they picked

10:28 Phil is surprised he is the only one in the world that hates cheese - hands in hair and on the back of his neck... I’m not ashamed to say I rewound this little bit.

10:36 Phil is concerned this will be a bad video because they aren’t winning. Oh Phil, do you think people come here for the gameplay?

10:40 Lean in further Dan, I dare you

10:45 Dan intensely wants to know who this person is. Who is the person I don’t know Phil? Have you been speaking to other people without me there Phil? Who is it who is it who is it? Oh wait... someone hates Christmas?

10:51 Dan with the accent again

10:56 please stop dabbing. it wasn’t funny when you started and it still isn’t. sometimes I wish they wouldn’t latch on to every internet meme that children find funny tbh

11:04 I know that in your household spoon is used as a term of endearment and that has therefore left you a little confused but here in not-dnp land, people aren’t generally confused as to why they’re called spoons enough to google it.

11:10 Phil is really losing the plot rn. More head-desk hide-in-tshirt combos

11:12 attempts to put his head directly in Dan’s lap

11:20 Phil writes ‘Dan sucks’ as an answer - why is this so cute?

11:26 Don’t pretend you didn’t linger on that arm touch there

11:28 Dan being loud and Phil telling him to shush is my favourite. Also Dan actually looking chided and listening? Amazing.

11:42 I’m going to kill you to death

11:53 Phil’s face at getting the answer wrong looks so done. Why do I like this? Why... I have issues.

12:10 I will never forgive them for the jump cut before Phil booping Dan’s face softly with his fist. never.

12:16 They didn’t used to roughhouse this much did they? I’m almost used to it except that I’m not

12:22 Dan... why the accent? I know you’re trying to suggest the common google user is stupid and this is the voice you are using to express that but just... stop. I just realised... it’s Jessica. He thinks the general google user is Jessica.

12:31 Phil asking the questions we’re all thinking

12:44 Phil throws down the gauntlet

12:49 Phil knows what he’s done

13:04 Phil is mad and I am... into that? apparently? - at least he’s courteous enough to be quiet about it unlike Daniel

13:13 Why would I want to make someone cry? Jealous. Um, Phil, why would you want to make someone jealous? And why is that where your mind went first?

13:23 they mock all of the vaguely sentimental answers just in case we think they might have googled them at some point. Protest too much boys?

13:37 Phil is intense while Dan sings us a song from the ii playlist

13:41 you are children.

14:00 smug Dan is smug

14:08 More angry Phil and I need a minute

14:20 Srs bsnss Phil is concentrating with everything he has

14:30 Yeah, I don’t really get that either, Dan

14:42 Phil loses. No more Google Feud.

14:49 Phil stops the end screen to propose something crazier

15:10 Dan tries to wheel Phil out of shot again as is his go to move. But... I mean, did you notice he isn’t pushing on the chair? That’s just Phil’s knee. I felt like you needed to be made aware of that fact. Just... for reasons.

15:20 Phil attempts to continue his all or nothing with a forfeit of licking something and looks around the room for something that he could lick as punishment... I could suggest something if you like, Phil.

(At this point this video might have driven me a bit crazy)

15:27 Phil head desks right on to Dan’s arm

Blah blah blah end screen.

#timestamps #dan and phil #dnp #I'm ill today and this is the first thing I've done that isn't laying still in the dark so apologies for the incoherency #also the times may be one or two seconds out

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