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danfanciesphil · 6 years ago

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Some Kind Of Folliful (Last Chapter!)

Edgelord!Dan x ObliviousBisexual!Phil AU [CHAPTER FOURTEEN] (based off the 80′s classic Some Kind of Wonderful)

Synopsis: Dan has one friend, and only because he was forced into it. Phil is loud, excitable, and irritatingly happy all of the time. Phil seems to find Dan’s perpetual attitude funny, and despite Dan’s best efforts to shun him and everyone else, wants to be around him all the time. That is, until Phil starts talking about Amanda Jones. Word Count: 71,815 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smoking, swearing, heavy drinking, drug mentions, implied prostitution, broken home, class divide/classism, pining, light homophobia, sex

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven] [Chapter Eight] [Chapter Nine] [Chapter Ten] [Chapter Eleven] [Chapter Twelve] [Chapter Thirteen]

[Ao3!]

This chapter is NSFW. Explicit. Sex happens.

A shrill, tinkling noise is coming from the end of the hall. There’s a door there, with a sliver of light peeking out beneath it - the only light, aside from that which the moon drools through the windows lining the grey brick walls. Dan creeps across the cobblestone, towards the door. The silky, wet moonlight is splashing all over him, dampening his arms, covering him in a pearlescent glow that drips from his fingers, to the grey stone beneath his feet. It won’t do, he thinks, trying to cover up his skin with his sleeves. Someone will notice the peculiarity, will point and stare, and he will be singled out as the moonlight-covered monstrosity. He walks on a little faster. It’s just as well he hasn’t seen a soul for hours. Or has it been days?

Dan is searching for someone, the person that was at his side when he first arrived here. He cannot picture the person’s face, but they have blue eyes, and black hair, and his mother’s voice, and his father’s clothes. The tinkling noise is growing louder, definitely coming from behind the door. He reaches it, heart thumping, and tries to ignore the way the moonlight is dripping from his soaked sleeves, creating a puddle at his feet. He steels himself, and pushes the door open. Light floods in, along with that eerie musical sound. He shuts his eyes against the brightness, against the cacophony, and when he opens them he’s in Phil’s room, beside Phil, who has switched on his bedside light.

“Who has an alarm on a Sunday?” Phil asks, irritably, from beside him, grabbing Dan’s phone off his bedside table and dropping it onto Dan’s chest.

Dan fumbles with the thing for a moment, managing to hit the snooze button. “I have work,” he croaks.

He’s cold, he realises. He’s thought that the bleak, stone corridors he’d been wandering in his dream were the source, but now he understands that his chilliness is more to do with the fact that Phil has wrapped himself in a cocoon of covers, leaving Dan half bare on the mattress. To punish him, Dan pushes his icy feet under the duvet and entwines them with Phil’s, making him yelp.

Phil turns to him, sheepishly grinning, and places the covers back over Dan. He lifts his arm so Dan can curl into him, which he does. After a moment, Phil sighs into his hair. “You have work today?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “Sorry. Lou could only be persuaded so far.”

Phil trails his fingers down Dan’s neck, then up again, tucking a curl behind his ear. “But what about all the sexy things I was planning to do to you today?”

“You bastard,” Dan groans. “Is it not hard enough that I have to leave you in bed, naked, to go and serve a bunch of entitled teenagers frothy drinks for six hours?” He rolls to his side to look at Phil properly. “Now I have to do that knowing that I’m missing out on planned sexual activities.”

Phil kisses him the moment he stops speaking, tasting of mint again, and marshmallow, and… Dan really needs to stop trying to identify all the flavours he can taste on Phil’s lips - he’s becoming a total sap. Instead, he melts into it, allowing the pillow of Phil’s lips to sweep away every irritating, niggling thought in his overwrought brain. It must work better than he expected, because the thing that jolts them apart is Dan’s alarm, again. Phil snatches the phone, and Dan only just manages to stop him launching it across the room.

Once Dan’s shut the alarm off for good, Phil sighs heavily, taking one of Dan’s hands and kissing the knuckles. “Do you want a shower before you go?”

“Yeah, that’d be great actually,” Dan says, pulling his hand free of Phil’s to stretch his arms above his head in a yawn. Phil’s hands wander aimlessly over Dan’s taut body; he’s inevitably going to need a cold shower. “Mind if I go first?”

One of Phil’s eyebrows quirks towards his hairline. “I meant with me.”

Dan feels the arousal rippling around his groin. He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh.”

Phil peels the covers off himself and stands, naked aside from his boxers, and holds out his hand for Dan, smirking. “Coming, then?”

“Um, go put the shower on,” Dan tells him, feeling a little dazed already. How Phil can look so goddamn beautiful at this time in the morning is a mystery. His hair’s a mess and his glasses aren’t on, and he’s hiding a semi in his tight pants, but he’s a deity if Dan’s ever seen one. “I’ll just get my shit together. Meet you in there.”

Phil shrugs, smiling mischievously. “Don’t be long. Not sure I can wait for you...”

“Bastard,” Dan says affectionately, admiring the back of him as he walks out.

In truth, he wants an opportunity to find his own underwear, preferably a new pair. He digs out a fresh pair of boxers from his emergency reserve (a deep pocket in his jacket) and slips them on, half rolling his eyes at himself because he’s about to whip them straight back off again. Somehow though, it seems disrespectful to wander Phil’s house - Kath’s house - butt naked. He heads for the bathroom as soon as he’s vaguely decent, trying to keep himself from power walking despite the knowledge that Phil is, right at this moment, naked, wet, and waiting for him a few yards away.

Phil’s bathroom is smallish, but he has one of those wide shower-baths, with a glass pane instead of a curtain. Phil is already stood under the spray, Dan can see his blurry silhouette through the condensed glass.

“Dan?”

Dan snorts. “No, sorry, it’s Russell. Heard you fancied a quickie.”

“Ooh, sounds good, Mr Brand,” Phil calls back, his voice muffled by the spray. Dan shuts the bathroom door and locks it - they might be alone, but they’ve had enough surprise appearances this weekend. “Don’t let my boyfriend know though, yeah?”

Dan freezes, underwear halfway down his thighs. He can feel his heart squeezing, clamped in a fist, fighting to pump blood to his swimming brain. “Y-your what?”

The shower switches off, and Phil’s head tentatively pokes around the pane. “Shit. Um, is that not… we don’t have to, like, label it or whatever-”

Dan lets his pants fall to his ankles and steps out of them, then climbs into the tub. Phil is soaking wet, dark hair plastered to his skull, droplets falling down his face like tears. For a moment, Dan is too scared to speak, so he just places a hand on Phil’s chest, sweeping his thumb through the moisture.

“Is that… something you want?” He manages to ask eventually.

Phil swallows, eyes wide, trained on Dan. “I want what you want.”

“I’ve never been anyone’s... boyfriend,” Dan tells him. The term sits strangely on his tongue, like it doesn’t fit. “I don’t think I know how.”

“Me neither,” Phil says, voice small. “But I think, with you, it’d be easy.”

Dan clings to the small smile Phil offers, thinking of it as a tiny life jacket, only big enough for a child, that he has no choice but to use to keep him afloat. He nods, feeling his own exhale shake and tremor as it leaves his lungs. “Okay,” he says, though the terror is paralysing. “Let’s try being... boyfriends.”

Phil reaches for him, pulling them close together. His wet skin is cold now, after so long out of the spray, so Dan reaches blindly, and manages to turn the shower back on. Phil shudders as the warm cascade of water sluices down their backs. He kisses Dan sweetly, hands either side of his face; it only lasts seconds, because the water makes it hard to breathe, but Dan still drowns in it.

“What privileges do I get, then,” Dan asks, hands slipping over Phil’s warm, wet shoulders, down his arms. “As a boyfriend?”

“Well.” Phil grins, then swivels awkwardly, half trapped by Dan’s embrace, to grab for a bottle of something. Conditioner, Dan sees, though he’s not sure Phil even knows what he’s reaching for, blind as he is without his specs. He manages to snatch it, then spins triumphantly, and of course promptly slips, falling to floor of the tub, legs crashing into Dan’s like they were bowling pins in his path. Dan’s hand flies out, but with nothing to grip but the slippery glass pane, he tumbles directly onto Phil, landing on his lap.

“Phi-il,” he groans. “You’re literally the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.”

“Hey,” Phil says, rubbing his thigh, leaning back to keep his head out of the shower spray. “At least you had a Phil-cushion to land on. That’s gonna bruise.”

Rolling his eyes, Dan makes a vague attempt to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs they’ve landed in, but the water, along with the conditioner that Phil spurted from the bottle on his way down somehow, makes the action impossible. He tries to gain some leverage with his elbows on the lip of the tub, chest pressing into Phil’s, but it’s hopeless.

“Fuck’s sake, I am not missing work because I’m stuck in your bloody bathtub-”

Dan stops moving when Phil’s hands grip at his waist, a little too hard to be considered normal. He looks down, noticing that Phil’s breaths have grown stuttery, and his pupils are blown wide. Belatedly, Dan remembers that they are, in fact, both naked, slippery, and hard right now. In the haze of aching and discomfort caused by the fall, Dan tries to figure out if he can feel exactly where his and Phil’s bodies are touching. Dan wriggles his hips experimentally, and Phil lets out a pulse of breath, as if he’s been punched in the stomach.

It’s then that Dan understands what’s happening. Phil’s cock, which is, Dan now knows, fully hard, is nestled between Dan’s butt cheeks. Dan’s own cock twitches as soon as he realises this, and he grinds down, unable to stop himself pushing into the delicious feeling; he wants Phil to thrust right into him, to fuck him raw and bare, but he gets the sense that it might be a bit too soon to ask for such a thing, so this will have to do for now.

Phil’s hands are still gripping his sides, and Dan can’t stop thrusting his hips down, eyelids fluttering as Phil’s long, hard cock slips, conditioner-slicked, between his cheeks. His foreskin catches on the rim of Dan’s hole, and he groans, latching his mouth onto Phil’s, drawing Phil’s tongue inside, so at least some of him will be.

Dan honestly does not believe anything could be better than this, so when Phil’s hand - also slippery with conditioner - wraps around his cock and starts pumping in time with Dan’s own movements, he can’t keep the moan that surges up within him from pouring out of his mouth. A tumble of filthy curse words follow soon after, almost lost in the mash of their mouths, but still enough to pinken the tips of Phil’s ears.

“Fuck, fuck,” Dan whispers, drawing away from the kiss to tip his face to the spray. His hip movements are far from rhythmic, and Phil’s hand is unpracticed and sloppy, but it feels phenomenal. Phil’s breaths are ragged, and he’s gazing at Dan, above him, with a gorgeous, wondering expression that Dan could gulp down in pints. “I’m gonna come, fuck,” Dan says, then bites his own lip, hard. “You feel incredible.”

“M-me too,” Phil manages, obviously teetering on the edge. He thrusts his hips up to meet Dan, rubbing himself tightly against Dan’s entrance. Dan squeezes around him, encouragingly. “Don’t stop.”

No intention of that, Dan just grinds down harder, faster. Phil’s thumb, perhaps inadvertently, sweeps over the tip of Dan’s cock, not once, but twice, and Dan simply cannot stop the sizzling pleasure from unzipping through him, pouring out as he tries valiantly to maintain the pace of his own movements, intent on pulling Phil over the edge with him. It works, easily; it seems that the sight of Dan falling apart is enough for Phil to push into his own high. Phil grips him tightly, fingernails digging into Dan’s waist, shuts his eyes, and chants Dan’s name like a mantra. When it’s over, Dan collapses onto him, thrumming with the afterglow, the warm water beginning to slowly turn colder as the boiler runs out of heat. Phil, back slumped against the head of the tub, is glassy-eyed.

“If we do that again, would you consider being a little late to work?”

It’s Monday, and Dan’s in Music, the one class, aside from perhaps Chemistry with Phil, that he is able to tolerate. Ms Chilton, the Music teacher, is not, by any means, a kind, sweet woman, but for some reason, she seems to give Dan a little more attention than the others. Mostly due to bafflement, Dan lets her chide him and push him, and Music tends to be the only subject he ever gets decent grades in. Today, they’re finishing up their final projects, which will decide their overall grade. They’re supposed to compose a piece, either on the computer, or on their chosen instrument.

Around fifteen minutes ago, Ms Chilton asked Dan to play her what he has so far. Thankfully, Ms Chilton seems to understand, wordlessly, that Dan would rather set himself on fire than play for the entire class, so they both plug headphones in to the electric piano, and Dan plays her his piece. She listens thoughtfully, eyes shut in concentration. Dan doesn’t really get what she’s listening to - his performance can hardly be anything special compared to what she is probably able to do.

“Yes, I can hear the improvements you’ve made to the final section,” Ms Chilton says approvingly, slipping the headphones down to rest around her neck, where they immediately become tangled in the beads and necklaces she wears. “I agree that an imperfect cadence works for you, however I think there’s something to be added in the final few bars, if you’ll allow me to have a play…”

She battles with the headphones for a moment, then manages to free them from the tangle of jewellery, and places them back over her ears. She leans forwards, her shoulder pressed to his, and effortlessly dances her long, ringed fingers over the keys, producing a sweet trill of decorative melody that, Dan readily admits, would fit perfectly over the ending of his piece.

Just then, the bell rings. Dan thanks Ms Chilton in a mumble, removing his own headphones. As soon as they’re off, the chatter of the other students, excited for lunch, fills his ears. He grimaces, wishing he could slip back into the solitude of his song. Before he is able to so much as pick his way out from the piano bench, Ms Chilton says his name.

He pauses, and she lifts an unhurried finger, draining the remnants of whatever strange, pungent tea she’s been drinking for the past hour. The students file out, and Dan waits, rather impatiently, for Ms Chilton to speak. She stands, her long skirt wafting over the cellos, the abandoned tambourines, the guitars loosely stacked in their stands, as she crosses to close the classroom door.

“Your time at school is almost over,” she says at last, gliding to her desk and perching on the edge.

Her creased, grey eyes fix him to the spot. Though she’s a subdued, dreamy sort of woman, with wispy hair and a vaguely hippyish style, there’s an intensity about her that makes students wary; she never shouts or even raises her voice much, but she’s sharp and rarely smiles. It’s unusual for her to show genuine interest in a student. Dan secretly suspects that her apparent indifference to her class is just an act, but it does seem to work in her favour - the students clamour for her attention in a way they don’t bother to with other teachers. If they think they’ve earned her approval, even for a moment, it’s as if they’ve won a prize.

“Yeah, I know,” Dan says, because she seems to be waiting for an answer.

“And what is it, Daniel, that you’re thinking of doing next?”

He shrugs, playing idly with the bell on one of the nearby tambourines. “Dunno, really.”

He does know, of course. He will continue working at the café, upping his hours to full-time. He’ll work the long shifts, and save to get a place - any place - away from his mum’s house, which he will move into the minute he can afford to. He’ll buy a car, so he can drive to see Phil now and then, who will be at some university or other.

But Ms Chilton doesn’t want to hear this. No teachers want to hear that a student they’ve spent years trying to fill with knowledge and ambition has long ago resigned themselves to a life of solitude, monotony, and pointlessness.

“I’d like to discuss an opportunity with you,” Ms Chilton says, unexpectedly. “It would require a great deal of effort on your part, but has the potential of being quite life-changing. I have thought long and hard about whether you would be able, or willing, to rise up to the challenge, but upon deliberation I must say that I think you, Daniel, are the only student I have ever taught who might possess the sufficient talent for it.”

Dan stares at her, unsure how he could possibly respond. “Sorry, um. Me?”

“Yes,” she says, that unwavering, dazzling gaze never straying. “You.”

After leaving Ms Chilton’s classroom, Dan’s in such a daze that he doesn’t even register who it is that Phil is chatting to beside his locker. Phil tenses as soon as he sees Dan approaching, nervous for some reason, though Dan has no energy to work out why. Last night, after work, Phil had kept him up rather late, so they’re both pretty knackered today. In Dan’s case, tiredness makes him dazed and distant; in Phil’s case, it tends to hit him in bursts, interspersed with periods of high energy to make up for it. Right now, that energy radiates out of him. It’s making Dan exhausted, just to stand in his vicinity.

“Hey!” Phil squeaks, far too chipper. “Where did you get to? We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Hm?” Dan is looking past him, at the swarms of students still scattering through the hall, like marbles flying past one another, ricocheting off the walls. “Yeah, sorry. Was talking to Ms Chilton.”

Phil reaches out and plucks something from Dan’s hand. He hadn’t even been aware he was holding anything. It’s a leaflet, apparently; Phil unfolds it, frowning at the contents.

“The British Young Person’s National Orchestra,” Phil reads out, then lifts his eyes to Dan. “Was she asking you to a concert?”

“I think it may be more to do with this,” Amanda says, pulling suddenly and spectacularly into focus at Phil’s right.

She points a delicate finger at something on the far page of the leaflet. Dan stares at her, trying to figure out what on earth she’s doing here, before remembering the strange conversation they’d had on Friday, when she’d declared that she wanted to be friends. Phil’s mouth falls open slightly, his pupils darting left to right, reading quickly. Amanda lifts her eyes to Dan’s smiling tentatively.

“Hi, by the way,” she says.

“Uh,” Dan replies. “Hi.”

“Oh my God,” Phil breathes, lowering the leaflet at last. His eyes are alight. “Is this true? Are you really going to audition for this?”

Dan licks his lips, trying to recall the conversation he and Ms Chilton had just a few minutes earlier. A piercing ringing noise in Dan’s ears had obscured much of what she’d said, but he does vaguely remember her saying that she would like to help him prepare for the audition day coming up.

“Maybe,” he says. Phil lets out a delighted laugh. He turns towards Amanda, and she smiles too, sharing his glee. And then, watching the two of them, it strikes Dan like a blinding flash of lightning. The particulars of his life, his situation, are illuminated once more, and he shakes free of the whole ridiculous idea. “Probably not,” he corrects himself, snatching the leaflet back and shoving it deep, crumpled, into his pocket. “S’just one of Ms Chilton’s mad pipe dreams. Can’t really picture me, coat tails flung over the stool, playing Mozart on a stage, can you?”

He scoffs, hands patting his jacket pocket in search of cigarettes before remembering that he purposefully didn’t bring any today in an attempt to ‘cut down’.

“Wait, Dan, what exactly did Ms Chilton say?”

Phil’s face has fallen, and Dan can’t bear it. Can’t he just listen to any one of the many teachers that will happily tell him - Dan’s a disappointment, and always will be.

“Oh, you know, a load of hippy bollocks,” Dan answers in a mumble, eyes darting away.

“She’s pretty difficult to impress, I hear,” Amanda tries. In a better mood, Dan might have the patience to tolerate her, but right now, he can’t even bring himself to respond. “If she thinks you’re in with a shot, I’d say that’s a ringing endorsement.”

“Um, you guys go on to the cafeteria,” Dan says, backing away from them. He can feel the unbearable itch of his nicotine craving scraping beneath every patch of his skin, and he can’t take it. “I’ll meet you in there.”

“Where are you going?” Phil calls, though Dan’s already walking away.

“Just gotta find Lee quickly,” he calls back, then pushes into the throng of students.

Lee, as ever, is not tough to find. He’s sat with his laddish Year Ten friends on a picnic bench outside the IT block. They’re splashing their sodas at one another, jeering and making a mess, occasionally stopping to put one another in a headlock, or flick a lighter near the hem of their school jumpers in the hopes of singeing the fabric.

The moment he spots Dan approaching, Lee attempts to appear separate from the others, the moronic grin slipping from his expression, his body relaxing into cool nonchalance as he rolls his eyes at the others’ behaviour.

“Quit acting like a bunch of twats, would you,” Lee says, just loud enough for Dan to hear.

Dan has to hide a smirk. He walks up to Lee, then inclines his head. “Can I have a word?”

Lee shrugs. “Sure,” he says, then gets up casually, clearly all too aware he’s being eyed by his shocked companions.

“Goin’ for a quick shag, Lee?”

Dan turns to the kid that asked, glowering. Whether or not Dan’s reputation has been a little besmirched by now - Hardy Jenns has apparently spread news of Dan’s past Ozone-related activities - the idiot has the decency to look as if he regrets that question. Dan might be the school’s slutty gay mascot, but he’s also the one that caved Jenns’ face in at Prom.

“Get bent, Harry,” Lee shouts, coolly. Dan won’t admit it outright, but he’s mildly impressed by Lee’s blazé attitude, though he knows it’s put-on for his benefit. Lee turns to Dan, then. “What’s up?”

“Got a fag?” Dan asks.

Lee nods, casting a quick look around for lurking teachers. He digs into his pocket and pulls out a pack of Marlboro menthols. Dan makes a face.

“Sorry, Harry’s brother got ‘em for me,” Lee says. “Can’t be too picky when your mate’s doin’ you a huge favour, y’know?”

Dan takes one, reasoning that it’s better than nothing, then tucks it behind his ear. “Cheers.”

He starts to walk away then, but Lee calls after him. “Wait.” Footsteps, rapidly catching up with him. “I’ll come with you, I’m gagging for one, too.”

Internally, Dan groans, but he doesn’t have the heart (and since when does he have a soft spot for Lee?) to turn the kid away. Together, they walk in silence to the narrow groove behind the huts at the back of the grounds, where they can’t be seen.

As soon as Dan takes the first drag, his world sharpens, and he feels instantly better. Then, the minty aftertaste hits, and he feels a little like throwing up.

“Grim,” Dan mutters, but takes another drag anyway.

Lee chuckles. “Least they’re not fuckin’ cherry flavoured.”

A laugh bursts from Dan’s chest, as much to his own surprise as Lee’s. Has Lee always been funny? Perhaps he just never bothered to notice.

“Can’t argue with that,” Dan says.

“So,” Lee clears his throat. They’re both looking straight ahead, at the fence directly in front of them, their backs against the wall of the hut. “Haven’t seen you since Prom. You alright?”

Ah, no wonder Lee wants a catch-up. Last time he saw Dan he was wasted, bawling his eyes out, with a face bruised and bleeding from Hardy’s fist. “Right, yeah. Sorry about… all that.”

“Nah, it’s alright.”

“Thanks for taking my brother’s car back, by the way.”

“Oh, that wasn’t me,” Lee says. Dan turns to him, confused. “That was your, er, your… mate. Phil?”

“Yeah,” Dan breathes, nodding. “Yeah, Phil.”

“I dunno where you live, so he offered to take it back in the morning.”

Dan blinks, not sure what to make of this gesture. He remembers Ricky mentioning something about Phil stopping by the day after Prom, but he hadn’t put two and two together until now. He looks at his shoes.

“Dan, mate,” Lee says then, so Dan turns to him, cigarette caught between his lips. “I know you’re not really big on, uh, ‘friends’. But just so you know,” Lee tilts his chin up, defiant. “I’ve got your back.”

Dan’s eyebrows lift. “Oh,” he says, confused. “Right. Uh, thanks.”

Lee nods, turning back to the fence in front of them. “No worries.” He’s clearly got more to say, so Dan just stays quiet, smoking, until he works up the courage to spit it out. “And uh, I don’t, like, care. About the stuff people are saying, I mean.”

Something squeezes around Dan’s chest, like a belt tightening. He wants to fucking sprint away, but the space they’ve slipped into is barely wide enough for the two of them to stand in, let alone for Dan to push past him.

“Lee-”

“Nah, just… listen a sec, this is fuckin’ difficult but I need to tell you.” Lee’s voice is different. It’s lost that needy, young quality. There’s strength behind it now, and Dan marvels, trying to work out when it was that scrawny Lee grew some actual balls. “I worked it out a while back, y’know. How you felt. The way you looked at him. And how funny you got when he started off with that Elite chick. I know it was shit for you, at Prom, seeing him wiv’ her. But I don’t give a shit that you like him. I’m your mate, and I think you should be happy. If people try and talk shit about you when I’m around, I tell them to fuck off. ‘Cause that’s what mates do. I just want you to know that you’ve, uh, got me in your corner.”

Lee finishes the stub of his cigarette and throws it to the ground. Dan’s has burned out; he’s been too stunned to do anything but listen to Lee, cheeks flaming because it’s probably the wildest conversation they’ve ever shared. All this time, Dan was convinced his only friend was Phil. But maybe he doesn’t always get a say in who his friends are.

“Well, right.” Dan stomps on his own cigarette. “Thanks, Lee.”

“Yeah, no worries.”

A few agonising, silent seconds pass, and then Phil, somehow, rounds the corner. Dan might have run away from him a short while ago, but right now he’s ridiculously glad to see him.

“Finally,” Phil says, squeezing into the narrow space. “Found you. Should’ve known you’d gone for a smoke.” He inches, somehow, through the tight gap between Lee and the fence, nodding at him as he passes. “Hey, Lee.”

“Alright,” Lee says uncomfortably, trying not to move as Phil squishes him against the wall.

Eventually, Phil stumbles into the space beside Dan. He smiles, and Dan can’t help returning it, despite how awful he feels inside.

“I’ll, uh,” Lee says, jabbing a thumb in the opposite direction. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“Thanks for the cig,” Dan calls after him. Lee lifts a hand in acknowledgement, and slips out of the small space.

“Where’s Amanda?” Dan asks as Phil settles his back against the hut.

“She told me to come talk to you alone,” Phil says.

“About what?”

Phil bites his lip, deliberating. “I know you don’t really like talking about… what’s gonna happen when school ends,” he says carefully. Dan can feel Phil’s eyes burrowing into the side of his face; he’s watching Dan’s expression, checking he’s okay. It’s mildly infuriating, but Dan sticks it out, because it’s Phil. “But, well, it’s coming up.”

“I know that,” Dan snaps. “I’m not in denial. Is it such a crime if I wanna enjoy being with you while I still-” he cuts himself off, but not quite quick enough.

Phil cocks his head to the side, like a confused puppy. “While you still what?”

“I really don’t wanna talk about this now,” Dan says, shaking his head.

He turns to Phil, grabbing him by the jumper and pushing him up against the wall. If he stands in front of Phil, fence at his back, there’s barely any room to move, which means he’s pressed deliciously along Phil’s body. He swoops in fast, closing the short distance between their mouths. He’s forceful and insistent, tongue searching, teeth nipping and coaxing, but Phil is distracted, and after a few moments pushes Dan, gently, away.

Sighing in frustration, Dan turns from him, moving to lean back against the wall.

“So you’re withholding affection until I pour my heart out now?” Dan asks, scornfully. “Blackmail doesn’t work well with me, Lester. Maybe you should buy me some more Skittles.”

Dan kicks out, toe colliding with the fence in front of them, making it wobble.

“Dan, don’t be mad,” Phil says, sounding upset. And that’s just great, now Dan’s got to digest a helping of guilt on top of it all. “I just think maybe you should at least consider what Ms Chilton said-”

“What’s the point?!” Dan shoves his hand into his hair. “Look at me. The snobs from the Orchestra would kick me out before I had a chance to tickle the damn keys!”

“You don’t know that,” Phil says, quietly. “You could at least try.”

“I’m not good enough, Phil,” Dan says, glaring. “That’s it, plain and simple. I’m not the kind of person they want. I’m self taught, and sloppy, and working class. My destiny is not to play the fucking ivories with a load of pretentious kids that salivate over Beethoven. If you wanna shoot for the stars, go for it. I actually think you’ve got a hell of a chance. I don’t.”

“So, you can have faith in me,” Phil challenges, seemingly outraged by something Dan can’t fathom. “But I’m not allowed to want better things for you?”

“We both know you’re the talented one,” Dan says. “You’ll get into some distant, fancy art college no problem, and we’ll keep up the long-distance for a bit, and then you’ll forget about me. Or, not forget, but find something better. Someone with purpose, and potential. And that’s just the way it’ll go.”

Phil’s enraged expression now has alarm bells ringing all over it. He reaches for Dan’s arm, obviously softening, but Dan pulls away. “Dan, woah, there’s a lot to unpick there, just-”

“So, yeah,” Dan interrupts, not listening. “Excuse me for not wanting to talk about the future. For wanting to live in the present just a little bit longer, when I still have you, and everything isn’t just complete, utter shit.”

He’s had enough then, and mercifully, the bell rings, so he doesn’t need to stick around any longer. Dan squeezes, with a fair deal of effort, past Phil, and round the corner of the hut, managing to lose himself in the swarms of students that suddenly appear. He sits through English, just about, but can’t bring himself to attend his final lesson, so slips out of school via the back entrance, and wanders home.

Dan wakes up on his sofa, immediately awash with dread, because he has no idea how long he’s been asleep. If it’s dark outside, Ricky might be home soon, or worse, he might already be home. Something catches his eye on the coffee table to his right; it’s the British Young Person’s National Orchestra leaflet, laid out where he left it. Now, however, there’s a note laid on top, scrawled in his mother’s handwriting.

Ricky’s out tonight. I’m at work.

I think you should go for it.

Mum x

Dan rereads the note four times before he understands what his mum is saying. She thinks he should audition for the orchestra. It makes no sense at all; she’s always shouting at him for not being home enough, not contributing to the rent payments enough, not doing his share of the housework. Why would she encourage him to leave? Still fuzzy from his nap, Dan decides to push this peculiar note away for now, and to think about it later. He checks his phone, which is flooded with activity. Most of the missed calls are from Louise, and Dan’s stomach sinks.

“Shit,” he says, to no one.

He missed work. Well, is technically still missing work. He clicks onto his text messages. Apart from Louise’s stream of abusive, panicked ‘get down here right now’ texts, there are a fair few from Phil, as Dan expected.

From: Phil To: Dan 15:32pm hey did u forget we have detention??

From: Phil To: Dan 15:38pm ok mr richardson was not pleased but i think i managed to cover 4 u

From: Phil To: Dan 15:40pm can u at least let me know where u are?

From: Phil To: Dan 16:34pm ok im out of detention now coming 2 cafe. xx

From: Phil To: Dan 17:23pm ok ive been here since 5 where r u??? louise cant get hold of u either

From: Phil To: Dan 19:56pm ive been here nearly three hours. im gonna go to ozone. i rly hope ur not there.

“Shit,” Dan says again, then checks the time. It’s eight now, Phil will be at Ozone soon. Dan doesn’t blame him; if he were in Phil’s shoes, he’d assume that’s where Dan had gone as well.

Without thinking about it, Dan gets up, grabs his keys and shoves on his shoes. He manages to remember his jacket, then bolts out of the door. He contemplates waiting for the bus to take him into town, but decides it would be better to just leg it. His phone buzzes again in his pocket, and his lungs start screaming at him two minutes into the journey, but Dan pushes through it.

He reaches Ozone in just under seventeen minutes, which is a record time. He’s hot and damp from exertion, panting so hard that he can’t even speak to Ben at the door. Mercifully, Ben lets him through anyway, though God knows why, as the last time Dan was in here, he was thrown out.

Almost the second Dan is inside, he feels someone grab his butt. It’s an aggressive squeeze, the kind of possessive, awful clutch of flesh that belongs to guys that think they can have whatever they want. Dan turns, scowling, to find the dude who gave him the pack of Djarums a while back. He’s even more nauseating than Dan remembers him being; it seems disgusting to think back on the person he was when he met this man, and the ways in which he degraded himself for a stupid pack of flavoured cigarettes.

The guy holds up another pack of Djarums in his beefy hand. “Got another pack for ya, Princess. Shall we find somewhere quiet?”

“Fuck off,” Dan says bitterly, turning away.

He pushes through the crowd, eyes scanning frantically for Phil. He spots Sam in the sound booth, setting up for whatever awful band is about to go on, and ducks out of his view. He asks Niamh, one of the bartenders, whether she’s seen a guy with blue eyes, black hair and glasses, but she just shakes her head.

Dan does a circuit of the whole club three times before he has to reluctantly admit to himself that Phil is not here. He slumps into one of the grimy little booths, defeated. Someone approaches pretty quickly, and Dan’s about to spew a load of abuse at whichever gross guy that Dan might have drunkenly given a smidgen of attention to long ago is deciding to try it on now, but at the sight of who it is, the words die on his lips.

Amanda slides neatly into the booth opposite him. “Hi.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

She looks a little startled by his hostility. Honestly, he’s lost track of his feelings around the girl now. Is he angry with her? Kind of reluctantly impressed by her? Indifferent, maybe?

It’s likely a combination of all three. But Dan’s failsafe mode is ‘moody dickhead’, so it would almost be weirder if he treated her any other way.

“Phil sent me,” she explains, getting straight to the point. “He was gonna come himself, but he wanted someone to scout out the scene.”

Dan just stares. “Why?”

“He didn’t say,” Amanda says, smoothing out her skirt beneath the table. “But I imagine it’s because he didn’t want to see you snogging someone else.”

Fiery, red hot fury scorches through Dan’s veins. How dare she imply such a thing. “I’m not fucking snogging anyone else-”

“Yes, well, I can see that.” Amanda seems entirely nonplussed by Dan’s anger, and her coolness is disconcerting enough to forcibly relax him. “And I’ll be sure to tell him. But you can see how he might have been a little scared that’s what he’d find.”

There’s a lump in Dan’s throat, a huge one. “Just because I used to sleep around a bit doesn’t mean I’m gonna cheat on him.”

She nods, calmly, and sends him a small smile. “Remember how I said we’re the same, Dan? Self-sabotage is kind of my thing. And I’d wage a bet it’s yours too.”

Dan shakes his head, but he can’t come up with any kind of argument in his defence.

“You’re not used to being happy,” Amanda continues. “Nor am I. It doesn’t sit right. It feels too precarious. Like it’s all seconds from crumbling away.” She’s too fucking good with words, that’s the problem. She’s like Derren Brown or something, manipulating his mind with her steady gaze, and her mesmerising appearance. He tries to shut her out, but the words trickle through into his mind anyway. “The second you find even the tiniest hole in the perfect, happy blanket you’re wrapped up in, you can’t help picking at the loose thread. You make the hole bigger, worse than it needs to be, because in some way, deep down, you’re expecting it to all fall apart.”

“I’m not making it worse,” Dan says through gritted teeth. “I came here to find Phil.”

“But, he’s not here,” Amanda reminds him. “So, if I hadn’t turned up, would you have just left?”

Dan shrugs, but he knows the answer. And even worse, she knows it too. No, Dan wouldn’t have left, probably. In all likelihood, what he’d have done is gone to the bar and gotten smashed on some other loser’s tab. And after that, who knows?

Dan’s a mess when he’s drunk. He doesn’t want to cheat on Phil - the thought is utterly repulsive - but he knows himself. And Amanda’s right. He’s convinced that he and Phil are doomed - by their dangerously different futures, by Hardy, by Amanda, by Dan’s family, by the fucking world. So, in a haze of moronic, drunken stupidity, Dan can completely see himself taking the opportunity to drag that impending doom a little closer. To get it over with.

“Dan,” Amanda says, and reaches her hand across the table. Her eyes are round, pleading. For some reason, he lets her take his hand. “You deserve to be happy. Phil deserves to be happy. This little tiff is not worth losing such a good thing over. You can get through this. Just talk to him. Just try.”

It’s so infuriating, knowing that she’s completely right. He nods stiffly, and she squeezes his hand.

“Will you call him?” Dan’s voice is croaky. “Tell him to come here? I need the bathroom.”

She nods, smiling supportively, and picks up her phone. Dan climbs out of the booth, walking quickly, head down, towards the bathrooms. He pees, ignores a guy trying to coax him into one of the stalls, then washes his hands and splashes water on his face. He peers into his own reflection, sighing. When Phil gets here, he tells himself, he will apologise for his stupid reaction earlier. He will tell Phil his concerns about their future, and together they will work out how to deal with it.

That’s what a sensible, mentally healthy person would do. That’s what Amanda thinks he should do. And she’s, irritatingly, always right.

He leaves the bathroom; he’s already spent ages in there, Phil’s probably halfway here by now, provided Amanda got through to him. He’s just squeezing back through the crowd towards the booth where he left her, when a hand clamps itself around his upper arm, painfully.

“Ow,” Dan cries out, turning. It’s the Djarums chap again, and Dan would roll his eyes, but this time, the git looks livid. He tries to pull away, but the idiot’s not having it.

“Listen up, Princess,” he hisses, leaning close; Dan can smell the beer on his breath. “I bought these Djarums specially for you. Now, how I see it, I’m out twenty quid, and you fuckin’ owe me.”

The guy shoves the pack of Djarums into Dan’s jacket pocket, then exposes his yellow, crumbling teeth in what Dan assumes is a grin.

“I’m not for sale, you creep,” Dan snarls, again attempting to pull away. “I don’t want your fags. Go give them to your wife.”

“Not for sale? That’s not how I remember it,” the guy says, then yanks Dan forwards, sloppily, trying to duck in for a kiss. Luckily, Dan, being the completely sober one for once, swerves away just in time. “Come on you little brat,” the guys growls, tugging him through the crowd, towards the back rooms.

A blur of burgundy red swoops in, barreling straight into the spot where the gross dude’s hand clamps onto Dan’s arm, breaking them apart. It’s Phil, Dan notices in the next second, just in time as always. Dan could kiss him; in fact, he will, later.

“Get the fuck off him,” Phil snarls at the Djarums guy, fist raised in what Dan must admit is a vaguely menacing stance. Phil’s only ever hit one person, but he seems to be all too ready to do it again. “Or I’ll call the bouncers over.”

“Or we could call his wife,” Dan suggests, holding up the mobile phone he snagged from the Djarums dude’s trouser pocket.

“Oh, you little shit-”

The guy lunges for him, but Phil’s arm launches out, holding him back. “Back off, or he’ll call her right now,” Phil threatens.

The guy looks about to explode, but he nods, red-faced. Dan hands the phone back, and he stomps off. Dan is grinning, because that was fucking epic, but he turns to Phil, and finds a look of hurt on his face.

Dan’s smile slips away, fast. “Phil, what’s wrong? I’m sorry about earlier, about not texting you back, I-”

“Did you get with him?”

Dan balks. “Get with- no. No, Phil I would never-”

Phil presses his lips together. “How can I believe you? Where the hell have you been?”

“Listen, I’m sorry,” Dan says, taking Phil by the shoulders. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been a twat all day, but Amanda was here, and she’s knocked some sense into me. Can we go and talk?”

Phil heaves a sigh, looking like he very much wants to refuse, to be far away from Dan right now, but he nods, ever the Saint, and Dan is so, ridiculously grateful.

“Okay,” Dan says quickly, before Phil changes his mind. “Let me just go and find Amanda, tell her we’re going. Will you meet me outside? I’ll be two minutes.”

Phil agrees, albeit reluctantly, and Dan plunges into the crowd again, searching for thick brown curls and a small, dainty figure.

“Find her?”

Dan is barely out of Ozone before Phil’s question hits him. He turns to the left to find him leant on the wall outside, hands in his burgundy jacket pockets. Dan walks up to him, relieved that he hasn’t simply left.

“She was sitting with about five other guys and a hot girl,” Dan says. “I’m pretty sure they were all hitting on her. She’s fine.”

Phil nods. “It was good of her to come here. It’s not exactly her scene.”

Dan snorts with laughter. “I think she’ll hose herself down when she gets home.”

“She’s a good friend,” Phil says, clearly testing the waters. It’s uncomfortable to hear him say it, obviously, but it’s not unbearable, and that’s a start.

“Mm,” Dan manages, which he’s enormously proud of himself for.

They wordlessly begin walking back in the direction of their side of town. Dan wants to explain everything, but he can’t work out where to begin.

“I don’t wanna pressure you, Dan,” Phil says eventually, the words almost lost in the enormous sigh he heaves. “If you’re sure you don’t think the Orchestra thing is for you, that’s fine. I guess I just know how amazing you are, and I’d like you, and everyone else, to know it too.”

“Thanks,” Dan whispers. “It’s really nice that you think I’m…” he can’t think of the word. “Good enough, I guess.”

Phil sighs again, and Dan gets a familiar feeling that he’s stupidly not seeing something right in front of his nose. “Dan, I don’t just think it. Anyone who hears you play, who hears you talk even, can see that you’re wasted in a crappy café in a dead-end town.”

“Don’t,” Dan begs. He suddenly, blissfully, remembers that the moron in Ozone had shoved those Djarums into his pocket. Dan digs the pack out, thanking every deity he can think of. “I know you mean well, but I can’t bear it. The way you talk about me…”

Dan rips the pack open and pulls out a cigarette. In his haste to light it, he drops his lighter to the floor. Phil gets to it first, and flicks the flame into existence. He holds it to the end of Dan’s cigarette; in the light of the small flame, Dan can see the sadness in his eyes.

“I can’t think you’re amazing?”

Phil hands the lighter back to Dan, watching him take a long drag, then blow out the smoke through his nose.

Dan sucks the end of the cigarette before speaking again. “I’m not the person you think I am,” he says eventually. Even he cringes at the phrasing; he sounds like a martyred anti-hero in some terrible action movie. Phil snorts, confirming Dan’s fears. “I just mean… I can’t live up to the Dan in your head. I’m not some gifted flower, wilting behind my insecurity. If I let myself think I can have… y’know, a better life, where I don’t have to work shitty customer service jobs and live with my abusive family, then I’ll hope for it, and I can’t, I can’t deal with the disappointment I’d feel when I didn’t get it.” Dan shakes his head, eyes stinging from the smoke in his eyes, or maybe something else. “It’s not worth it.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Phil says, though he sounds like he doesn’t want to. It’s brave to speak the words aloud, Dan can see it. He must know that disagreeing with Dan now will only lead to an argument. As Dan knows from that overheard conversation he had with his mum, Phil is worried Dan’s gonna run off at the first sign of trouble. If that’s still true, inciting any argument is courageous of him. “I think it’s always worth a shot. Your dreams matter, Dan.”

Dan laughs, smoke billowing up into the dark sky. “Don’t you know this, Phil? I already got my dream.”

Eventually, Phil decides to drop the matter entirely, mostly because he can’t speak with Dan’s tongue in his mouth. He should remember, in future disagreements, that Dan’s got an arsenal of weaponry, primed for distraction, hidden beneath his clothes, and he is apparently not above using them. They’re laying on Phil’s bed, Dan half on top of Phil, trying to be quiet because Phil’s mum is downstairs.

Phil’s hands are inside of Dan’s t-shirt, and are mapping the skin of his chest and back thoroughly. Dan’s kissing is getting dangerously heated, but Phil cannot bring himself to tell him to stop.

“Phil,” his mum calls from downstairs.

Dan moves his mouth to Phil’s throat for a second, so he can shout back. “Yeah?”

“Do you and Dan want some dinner?”

Phil pushes Dan back a little to give him a questioning look. “Do you?”

Dan shrugs. “Sure.”

“Yes please! Coming!”

Dan grins. “Not yet.”

“Ew, please do not say anything sexual in the context of anything to do with my mum,” Phil says, rolling Dan off him. Dan laughs and stretches, exposing skin at his middle, which Phil is basically forced to lean down and kiss. The feel of Phil’s lips is apparently tickly, because Dan shrieks. “Oh? Are you ticklish, Howell?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dan says, jumping into a defensive crouch atop the bed.

He looks like a wildcat, poised to spring. And, well, it’s too tempting to resist. He gets a few kicks to the face, stomach, and shins, but it’s worth it to send the perpetually bitch-faced Dan Howell into peels of uncontrollable laughter for a few minutes.

Phil’s mum eyes them both when they get downstairs, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink that Phil has never witnessed before. He’s confused for a moment, then looks Dan up and down, and realises that he too must look just as breathless, red and ruffled, right after exiting the bedroom.

“We were just-”

“How about you come sit up, and we shan’t mention it, Philip,” his mum says, very steadfastly averting her eyes. Dan is trying not to laugh, so Phil elbows him in the side. “There’s plenty to eat, so don’t be shy.”

Resigning himself to letting his mother believe he and Dan have been up to no good, Phil takes a seat at the table, and Dan follows him. His mum hands out plates, and they pile on mashed potatoes, veggie sausages, and various steamed vegetables.

“Thank you for dinner, Mrs Lester,” Dan says. “It looks delicious, as usual.”

She sends him a sweet smile. “You’re always welcome, Dan love.”

Phil sends him a look that is supposed to say something along the lines of ‘how come you aren’t in trouble for supposedly fucking me in my room two minutes before dinner?’, but probably comes out as something unreadable, because Dan just stares back blankly.

“So, boys, what’s new?”

Phil opens his mouth, about to tell his mum about the petty dramas of the school day - he’d gotten a B on his English essay, Mr Richardson’s shirt was on inside out, Amanda had tripped someone up in the hall for muttering that she was a ‘last season harpie’, but Dan gets there first.

“My music teacher thinks I should audition for the British Young Person’s National Orchestra,” he blurts.

The words jumble together a little, spilling from his mouth so fast that Phil is sure Dan didn’t think them through. He stares at his boyfriend, flabbergasted. He thought the matter had been officially dropped. Dan shoves mashed potato into his mouth, as if he wants to stopper it up.

“Oh my goodness, that’s wonderful!” Phil’s mum exclaims, placing her fork down. “Phil, isn’t that fantastic news?”

“Um… uh…” Phil stammers; he’s at a total loss over what to say. Dan had basically told him to shut the hell up about the subject, but here he is bringing it up of his own accord, to Phil’s mother. “Y-yes, he knows I think it’s… amazing.”

Dan winces at the word. still chewing mashed potato. He swallows it down with obvious effort, and shoots Kath a smile. “Thanks. I don’t actually know if I’ll do it.”

“Oh, well there’s no harm in trying, honey,” Kath says, taking a sip of wine from her glass. “Why, your music teacher seems to think you have as good a chance as anyone else! And he or she would know, I’d think.”

Dan, for some reason, seems to be listening to her. He’s staring at his plate, but he’s chewing his fingernail, deliberating. “Yeah,” he says, and Phil is about ready to pinch himself to check he’s not dreaming.

“I don’t have a musical bone in my body love,” Kath says. “But I hear you playing Phil’s old piano from time to time, and my goodness, I could listen forever. It’s just beautiful!”

Dan’s head lifts. “I didn’t know you could hear that.”

“I think even the neighbours can hear, love, the walls aren’t exactly soundproof,” Kath says with a chuckle. “But I’ve heard no complaints, and I highly doubt there’ll ever be any.”

Dan pushes his peas around thoughtfully, and the conversation moves onto other things.

“I brought you a coffee,” Phil says at around eleven at night, nudging the door to his bedroom open with his hip.

Dan raises an eyebrow at him. “Try’na keep me up?”

“Maybe,” Phil says with a smirk, handing Dan his mug. He sits down on the bed, sipping his own delicious coffee and leaning back against the pillows. “Do you wanna have a chat?”

Dan’s been sitting at Phil’s piano for around an hour, trying to work up the courage to play something now that he knows Mrs Lester listens. She’s gone to bed now, but she’s probably still awake, so the pressure mounts.

Sighing, Dan turns to face him. He knew this was coming; dinner had brought up some unexpected ‘word vomit’ on Dan’s behalf. “I know I’m being nuts,” Dan says. “Veering from one decision to the other. I dunno, I thought I’d made up my mind about the Orchestra thing. But I think... maybe... possibly I’m just a stubborn dickhead. Everyone seems to share your point of view, even my own mother, which is just... mental. Maybe I’m just being a coward, too scared to even try in case I fail. Maybe you’re more persuasive than I let myself believe.”

Phil doesn’t bother to hide his ridiculously pleased grin. “Really?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m gonna do it,” Dan warns, very cautious of Phil getting his hopes up for anything Dan-related. It’s best that he stay very pessimistic about Dan’s willingness to do anything he doesn’t have to. It’s been hard enough trying to give up smoking, and that’s not exactly working out great; he’s had three cigarettes today. “I think talking to your mum helped me realise. She’s kind of like… a voice of reason in my head.”

Phil hums a noise of assent, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “She’d love to hear that. Think she wishes you were her third son, sometimes.”

Dan nearly chokes on his own sip. He’d rather not have the added pressure of Mrs Lester wanting him as a son-in-law just yet. “Maybe I’ll have another talk with Ms Chilton,” Dan says carefully. He shoots Phil a ‘don’t get excited’ look, and Phil struggles - and fails, spectacularly - to hide his sheer delight at this news. Dan rolls his eyes. “You can’t put all your faith in me, though. I’ve never won anything, ever.”

“Um, incorrect,” Phil says, eyes shining. He pats the space beside him on the bed, and Dan, besotted little puppy that he is, stands and goes to sit with him. “You won my heart.”

“Ugh, you sap,” Dan mutters as he sinks onto the bed at Phil’s side. “Why do I hang out with you?”

“‘Cause I’m cute?”

Dan snorts, drinking more coffee. “Hey, did you make me coffee to keep me up for a DMC, or because you wanna seduce me after your mum’s asleep?”

Phil sends him a horrified, innocent look. “Dan, are you accusing me of using nefarious means to ensure you don’t zonk out before I can shove my hand down your pants?”

This time, Dan doesn’t need to be tickled to descend into laughter. Phil takes the mug from his hands, and places it, along with his own, on his bedside table, then dives on top of him.

“Ugh, get off me, you weigh a tonne,” Dan groans, though he doesn’t even try to wriggle away.

Phil’s body is warm, and heavy, like those weighted blankets he’s read about on Buzzfeed. His eyes sparkle in the light of his bedside lamp.

“You smell like cherries,” Phil says, smiling widely. He leans in and sniffs Dan’s hair, which is super weird, but somehow totally expected, at this point.

“Sorry,” Dan says, hands resting on Phil’s back. “I know I said I was cutting back. It’s been a stressful day.”

“You know, you don’t need to change anything about yourself for me,” Phil tells him, pinching Dan’s t-shirt between his thumb and forefinger, then raising it to his nose to sniff.

It’s a sweet thing to say, but he surely cannot mean it. “Er, I think you might prefer me if I weren’t such an asshole, or if I didn’t stink of smoke every time you got within five inches of me.”

Phil shakes his head, a big, dopey smile on his face. “Nah, I want you just like this. Bitch-faced, cherry-smelling, pretentious piano-genius.”

There’s a thousand retorts on Dan’s tongue, a hundred reasons why Phil is wrong, and should immediately reconsider his decision, but Dan gets to verbalise none of them. Phil’s kisses are electrifying, sending pulses of bright energy between his synapses, lighting his nerve endings on fire. Dan could be on the brink of death, he’s sure, and a single kiss from Phil would revive him, like a shot of adrenaline straight to his heart. He’s the modern day Snow White, if she had more of a Mia Wallace attitude to life.

As their clothes become nuisances, and the dragging, clawing pull of their combined arousal begins to rip the garments from their bodies, Dan feels that familiar, heady, intoxicating swell of adoration welling up, like a sea, all around them. He pulls back from Phil’s mouth, dizzy, adrift in the waves of it, sure he can feel the bed bobbing up and down.

Phil looks down at him wonderingly, fondly. “You okay?”

“I love you,” Dan says, because it’s all he can think of to say that might have a hope of scratching the vast universe of emotion he feels for Phil in this moment.

“Love you too, nerd,” Phil says, and Dan plummets, happily, freely, into the roiling ocean beneath him.

Thank you all so much for reading! Love to every one of you <3

#skof #phan #phanfic #some kind of folliful

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timeoutforthee · 6 years ago

Text

More Guardian Angel!Remy

“So be mean and get drunk? That’s what you my guardian angel is encouraging?”

“Yes. Be mean, get drunk, punch homophobes.”

Taglist: @scrapbookofsketches, @thekeytohappiness-is-you, @khadij-al-kubra, @beautifully-terribly

TW: one homophobic slur, slight violence, and drinking

Disclaimer: I don’t really know what I’m doing, but this story just keeps getting longer. So. Also this chapter was inspired by this amazing post by @awkward-turtle-patton

“You did what?”

“Oh my God, it’s totally not a big deal. The kid wanted proof. I lowered my sunglasses. Big deal.”

“Yes big deal! Very big deal!” Nate sighs and rubs his temples, “Remy, why are you like this?”

“Um, better question, why are you such a buzzkill?”

“Because I take my job seriously, Remy, unlike you-”

“Oh, just because I want my charges to work for their success instead of rearranging everything around them so that everything falls into their lap-”

“I don’t want my charges to suffer, Remy!”

“So instead you’ve just created waves and waves of self-entitled dickheads-”

“I should have gotten Virgil-”

“For fuck’s sake, it’s been 22 years, let it go-”

“If I had, he would have been a respected intern in an office right now-”

“He would have given up art, Nate!”

“So?!”

“If you would get your head out of your own ass-”

“Well at least my ass has wings!”

And, okay, rude. He definitely didn’t have to go there. Remy purses his lips, and even with the sunglasses, Nate can feel the glare behind them.

A guardian got their wings when they significantly changed the outcome of their charge’s life. Nate had made it his mission, as a guardian angel, to rearrange their lives until they had the most power possible. Remy was more focused on happiness, and honestly, who knew their own happiness better than the human? That’s why he stayed back and let them have most of the control. It’s also why he still didn’t have his wings yet.

Which he wasn’t bitter about. At all.

“Fine,” he said, “I’ll go back and check on Virgil.”

Virgil was going to be okay.

That was a mantra he had repeated to himself since day one, and now he had a guardian angel to confirm it. Which should, in theory, be comforting. Except he had found out that his guardian angel was kind of a mess, which was fitting, really, and Virgil couldn’t really judge. Still, maybe he should, like, pray or something and request a switch. Could he do that? He really should have asked more questions. Did it even matter who it was? How could he trust that a random guy could have his destiny all planned out?

Remy told him to trust fate. Until yesterday, he didn’t even believe in fate. He believed in choices and consequences. He made the wrong choice by studying art, and he was suffering as his consequence.

He gripped his beer a little tighter. He didn’t know why his co-workers had asked him to come out tonight. He didn’t particularly like any of them, and he had a feeling they didn’t really like him, either. But his choices for the night were either sulking in the bar or sulking at home. And he was getting really tired of his mother fluttering around him like he was a directionless teenager again. He was a directionless twenty two year old, thank you very much.

He tipped his bottle back and tried to change his line of thinking.

I’ve come a long way. Just to end up in the same place- I have friends. Who haven’t called- I have professors on my side, professors who believe in me. Too bad you’re disappointing them-

The bartender sat a glass filled with dark brown liquid in front of him. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“What’s this?”

“Black Russian,” the bartender replied, then he pointed, “From that guy.”

Virgil turned. There, lounging on a chair across from the bar, was Remy. His glasses were still in place, but his Starbucks cup was replaced with a wine glass.

He looked back at the bar. He needed some stupid angel magic to get him out of this mess. He needed to know why destiny put him back here. He needed something.

Remy didn’t offer him anything, except for this. A very, very human way to forget.

What the hell?

Virgil twisted in his seat, raising the glass. Remy raised his in response.

“Here’s to you, Remy,” then he downed it.

Oooooh, he was dead. Nate was absolutely going to kill him.

But, like, honestly? Worth it.

Virgil did not get drunk often. He was always so carefully guarded, and having all those walls come crumbling down in the blink of an eye was not something he actually wanted to do. Most of the time.

“It’s bullshit, if another entitled angry white man comes into the God damn store and asks me why ‘is card isn’ working I’mma scream. Sir, I am paid to take your money, my degree is in art how the everlovin’ fuck should I know the inner workin’s of a GAS PUMP?!” Virgil slurred as he stood on top of the bar.

The patrons were starting to become uncomfortable. Mainly because they were entitled, angry white men who definitely have told off someone in customer service at least once. The bartenders, however, seemed to be entertained, and were hesitant to yank him down.

Okay, also Remy had, like, a little bit of influence.

“And you know what else I hate?”

“Virgil, maybe you should-”

“Shhh!” Virgil said, raising a finger to his lips to cut off a co-worker, “I hate when pregnant mothers come in and buy cigarettes. Like, it’s 2018, are we still doing this? And like, fine, I guess you do you, but fucking secondhand smoke issa thing.”

Virgil trailed off as he stared in wonder at the ceiling. Remy noticed that the song in the background was changing. “I LOVE this song!”

Virgil slowly started swaying to the music. Remy clapped a hand over his mouth. He was so, so dead, but his human was having fun, and didn’t he deserve that?

However, it was brought to a halt when someone shouted “Fag!” at him from across the bar.

Virgil stopped and narrowed his eyes. He scanned the crowd until he landed on the guy, some rando with a trucker hat. He jumped off, with far more grace than he really should have, and stalked over to him.

As he got closer, the guy started to second guess if that was exactly a good idea. Virgil may have been lanky, but he was currently towering over him with a fire burning behind his eyes. They stared at each other for brief moment before Virgil swung and decked him. Between the punch and the surprise, the guy fell off the stool he was sitting on.

“Yes!” Remy cried, standing up. He technically should be against violence, but honestly? He was against homophobia more. Punch more homophobes, 2k18.

The bartenders headed over to kick Virgil out, but he just waved them off with a slurred “‘m goin’, ‘m goin’.”

His guardian angel followed him out, finding him sprawled on a patch of grass.

“V, honey? You good?”

“Mmmmhmmm. I’m stargazing,” he said, pronouncing his words carefully. Remy glanced up. Whoa. He had never really been on Earth at night time. He didn’t know the stars looked this beautiful. Pausing briefly, he laid down next to his human.

“Remy?”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna regret this tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“Oh, honey, I don’t need to look into the future to see that.”

“D’you look into my future a lot?”

Remy sighs, “Kinda. I have a few charges, and they all have multiple outcomes based on life choices that they make everyday. I can’t look into every choice or option you have, especially since I know I probably won’t step in. But I always look at the major ones.”

“Thas a lotta big words fer you,” Virgil says, still staring at the sky.

“I’ve been around for centuries, doll, I can speak as fancy as I want to. I just don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Oh my God, you sound like my coworkers. Like honestly? It’s not that deep. I talk like this because I want to. I drink Starbucks because I want to. I wear these sunglasses because I want to,” he pauses, “I may be an angel, but I’m not above enjoying humanity.”

“Y’know, I bet if I was sober, that’d be real deep.”

“I literally said it wasn’t that deep-”

“Shhhhh,” Virgil says, bringing a finger to Remy’s lips.

Okay. Maybe he should have cut Virgil off a little bit earlier.

Suddenly Virgil is moving his arms so that he’s hugging Remy to him. He lays his head on his shoulder.

“V? You good?”

“I don’ get hugs anymore, leave me ‘lone,” Virgil says, “So, how does the angel thing...work?”

“Okay, first, you have to be more specific. Second, work is boring and I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“D’you like it?”

Remy pauses, let’s silence hang in the air for a bit.

“Yes,” because he does. He doesn’t like some of his coworkers’ snide remarks or judginess. But he likes seeing humans rise to the occasion, likes seeing all the twists and turns their life could take, likes to see where they ultimately choose to go.

Virgil nods, his cheek rubbing against Remy’s shoulder. Actually, now that they’re cuddling, Remy can’t remember the last time someone hugged him. He reaches over and brushes a few purple locks off of Virgil’s forehead.

“Don’t do that, I’ll fall asleep…”

“Honey, I’ve seen your sleeping habits. You need it.”

“Ruuuuuuuuude,” Virgil says, then, “Why’re you here?”

“My boss was worried you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing an angel. It’s a lot for humans, sometimes.”

“Tell your boss I am a-ok.”

Remy laughs, “Considering the circumstances, I think he’ll have some other things to say.”

“Whaaaaat? You mean you’re not supposed to get drunk with your clients?”

“Okay, the only one drunk here is you, I was kicked out before the party started-”

“Wait, wait, wait-d’you make my coworkers invite me out tonight?”

“Nope, that was all them. I know you’ll find this shocking, but people like you, Virgil.”

“But I do not like them,” Virgil blinks, “Do they have tragic backstories? Should I be nicer?”

“You’re already nice-”

“Thanks, I have anxiety.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve noticed. But honestly, you should try and get a liiiiittle bit meaner. Like, your comebacks are iconic, and it’s truly tragic I’m the only one that’s heard them.”

“So be mean and get drunk? That’s what you my guardian angel is encouraging?”

“Yes. Be mean, get drunk, punch homophobes.”

Virgil laughs.

“And, like, for realsies? Your co-workers have been through some stuff, but mostly, they’re just a result of living in this place. Call it a small town curse.”

Virgil nods, then quietly says, “Remy?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I gonna end up like them?”

“I already told you, V, there are bigger things in store for you.”

“I know,” Virgil yawns, “But I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not surprised,” Remy says. He glances down. Virgil is resting his head on his shoulder with his eyes closed. Remy sighs. He needs to give the kid some tiny spark of hope, enough to encourage him but minor enough that he doesn’t change the outcome of his life.

No pressure.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #guardian angel!remy #remy sanders #me @ me: hey did u know u can write without projecting #me @ me: lol sounds fake but ok #virgil sanders #my writing

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thekingkang · 7 years ago

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Controversial pixelberry characters who are officially Cancelled™

PART 1

The Freshman/The Sophomore

Abbie: Always assumes the worst about everyone, and expects her friends to automatically take her side during every argument. Thinks the world revolves around her and expects Tyler to read her mind, but refuses to communicate without getting defensive every time he disagrees with her. Basically impossible to get along with.

Manny: Mysogynistic jerk who uses denial of his sexuality as an excuse to physically, verbally, and sexually harass others. I hope he comes to terms with his identity and develops as a character, but nothing can excuse how he has treated other people.

Becca: Has done nothing to deserve a redemption arc. Needlessly cruel to everyone, even her best friend Madison. Always has an ulterior motive. Moves into the house of people she constantly screws over, then complains about and insults the same people who did HER a favor. Uses her parents’ divorce as an excuse to treat everyone badly and sabotage her best friend’s sorority life. Comes up with half-assed apologies that only last for 1-2 chapters before she does the same crap again.

Sebastian: We all already know that he’s elitist, abusive garbage. No explanation needed. Next

It Lives In The Woods

Ben: Transphobic jerk who pretends to support Andy for fake woke points, but has internalized homophobia that causes him to lash out and verbally bully Andy (even though he has the most talent out of anyone on the team). Behavior is inexcusable and he only acts this way because he is hateful.

Lily: Sweetest girl ever but she’s asking for trouble by trusting Britney this much. Friends continuously try to warn her, but she uses “lol I have a crush” as an excuse to set herself up for heartbreak that everyone else knows is inevitable but she’s purposely oblivious to. Allowing herself to be naive. Pushes Ava around for defending herself instead of trying to help her control her powers, like MC did (“Ava, snap out of it!”)

Connor: Super sketchy. Always sticking his nose in MC’s business, even if she doesn’t want him there. Doesn’t even have a nerve meter. Works in a creepy hardware store with zombie apocalypse weapons. Looks suspiciously like the Shrek dude. Basic “tortured soul” character who always complains about his life but does nothing to change it.

High School Story

Wes: Yet another sarcastic white boy. Pretends not to care about anything, yet finds the time to create unnecessary drama. Randomly knows things about everyone (super creepy). Treats Autumn like garbage even though she’s the best girlfriend he will ever have. Always spouting off his opinion just to start an argument.

The Rules Of Engagement

Audrey: Pressures Nicole out of pursuing her dream career for the sake of being “spontaneous” enough to finish her inheritance task. Emotionally manipulative; abandons Nicole after she left the cruise, to attend one of the world’s most prestigious technological internships, simply because her feelings were hurt. Thinks a salsa competition is more important than Nicole’s future.

Paolo: Sabatoges Nicole’s entire career because of his own insecurity. Emotionally manipulates Nicole into thinking they are romantically involved, then betrays her friendship and expects her to accept his apology because he was just showing “initiative”.

Aunt Mallory: Literally a murderer. Keeps trying to lure Violet back into a toxic relationship. Lying, scheming, greedy, emotionally manipulative, terrible excuse for a mother. Has no remorse and only continues to apologize so she can have an “in” into the lives of her extended family and potentially screw them over later

The Royal Romance

Madeleine: We all hate her. Lying, traitorous snake who has no attachment to anyone, including her mom. Only cares about the power and privileges she will get from being royalty. Bullies others just to make herself feel bigger. Purposely malicious, even towards her own husband.

Drake: Complains more than he breathes. Has been living under the kingdom’s protection with royal benefits for his entire life, yet has nothing but contempt for the nobles. Feels entitled to MC’s attention, always comes onto her even when she turns him down. Tries to be cool by using sarcasm and drinking whiskey. Acts like his past is tragic and mysterious, but the most interesting thing about him is his sister’s (predictable) storyline. Overreacts about everything and always involves himself in drama that barely involves him. World’s most selfish best friend. Falls for MC, pretends to be noble for Liam’s sake by “denying” his feelings for her (not really), promises to help find MC’s conspirator and clear her name so she can marry Liam, then sneaks behind Liam’s back with her the whole time.

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tossertozier · 7 years ago

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What are your thoughts on fics that make Richie gay and Eddie a homophobe? I find these bother me on a visceral level and I can't place why. Probably because I see Eddie as the one who's closeted and Richie as decisively straight, particularly for their book counterparts? But yeah, I'd like to know your thoughts on homophobic! Eddie in general. I see it more times than I'd like to

okay well i’m gonna rephrase ur question here nonny because i do appreciate the sentiment but i just want to reiterate that i fully believe all writers have their right to tackle these characters from the angle they see fit (with certain exceptions of course) & just because i might not necessarily see a view point via my own deduction of canon doesn’t make it any less valid to me than the way i write the characters. this got long so it’s going under a cut.

so, what would i think about writing richie as explicitly gay and eddie as homophobic in one of my fics?

i could understand the viewpoint for eddie. eddie, by and large, has the most inherent shame of all of the losers. internalizing those things can lead to homophobic tendencies. however, book!eddie (and this was actually one of my favorite shake ups about the 2017 movie but we’re sticking to the book right now lol) is truly just not an outwardly offensive person. not in the offends way, but like…when it comes to taking action. all of the times eddie acts truly violent in the book are strongly reactionary. (battery acid you slime happens when he thinks IT is going to kill bill, he kills bowers out of self defense, he loses his arm because he thinks richie is going to die.) it is honestly more difficult for me to picture eddie as outwardly violent towards…anything that has not directly threatened him. ((maybe, i could see a questioning eddie getting upsetting if he was getting taunted and acting out??)) also, often depictions of homophobia get wrapped up with some sort of religious imagery which again, i wouldn’t write eddie as. eddie isn’t really given a religion in the books, so far as i can remember. (he asks richie a question about Catholicism, obviously not jewish.) i don’t believe with the faith in medicine that she has, that sonia would be at all outwardly religious. i don’t think she’s stable enough to regularly attend service. she’s very rarely described as leaving the house in the books, which is tough in it’s own way.

everyone is entitled to their own view point of loser sexuality. for the sake of sharing here, i am going to say that my personal view point is: i think richie is bisexual canonically, with a preference for more effeminate figures. in the book, richie refers to bev as “one of the guys - but one hell of a good looking guy” which some might take as evidence for him having an overt preference for men. i actually take this the opposite way. i think a lot of the reason richie does not have complete feelings for beverly is because of her androgynous energy. & i don’t think his failed marriages are a signal of complete homosexuality. i think they’re a signal of perpetual immaturity. i can’t quote the entire thing here, but his story of one of his wives is honestly one of my absolute favorite pieces of the book - and one of the most important, defining characteristics of richie, to me. AGAIN i go back to that fucking bo burnham song that i literally call the Richie Tozier song in my head because i think its so true of … so many men in the entertainment industry “have you ever seen a birthday party for children, and one of the children won’t stop screaming? ‘cause he’s just a little attention attract-er, when he grows up to be a comic or actor, he’ll be rewarded for never maturing. for never understanding or learning that every day can’t be about him, there’s other people, you selfish asshole.” i don’t think richie ever really Fully emotionally matured and was continually rewarded for this throughout his career (as hollywood loves to do with white men) & he loses a woman for it because she can’t be his emotional punching bag and pay constant attention to his needs . and she calls him tf out for it & he’s not even angry because he knows she’s right - he laughed about it.

(i’d say if there’s a defining sentence for richie, it’s “Richie laughed.” he can’t take things seriously & that’s not a compliment or a good thing, it leads to him sobbing on bill’s shoulder outside of the house because he can’t handle the world anymore because he hasn’t been processing little by little.)

one of the biggest tools of contrast for eddie and richie and how their sexualities are presented, to me, is their relationship with bill denbrough. (granted i believe any member of the loser’s club would suck bill’s dick if he asked because he’s a self insert but i digress.) richie refers to bill as his best friend. while i can’t think of a quote off the top of my head that defines this, i think a lot of bill and richie’s arch in the book (which is QUITE lengthy. it amazes me how little fandom attention is paid to their relationship, because it takes up seriously massive portions of the book) is richie going from quite wanting to be bill to understanding he’s not bill and that not having two bills is a benefit to them all. a lot of it is learning to respect himself the way he respects bill - and he has his own contributions to the fight that are entirely without bill. (the smoke scene for example and their entire last fight with IT) i do not think richie ever has a crush on bill, or wants to be with him, he just considers bill better than himself- something to look up to. to me, more than anyone else in the book, bill and richie are written to be the MenT.M. i think if richie would have a crush on any ManT.M. it would be bill, and to me, he doesn’t. eddie has a crush on bill. like. it’s not written out like “oh hey, here’s eddie being gay and having a crush on bill.” but liek. dudes, my guys. it’s…yeah. like. i really don’t think this could go undetected by the modernly educated reader. when my best friend read it she just texted me “so…eddie’s big gay crush on bill?” & i could only respond with “yeah. i know.” this is alreadhy super long an i could write several essays on bill/eddie/richie and the differences in their relationship buUUUUT yeap.

#askj #meta #ooooof #go awf #me

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blatherkatt · 7 years ago

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Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 22: Intervention; or, Two Assholes Crying On A Roof

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Mentioned/implied abuse, internalized homophobia/gay jokes, idk how to warn for this other than ‘How Not To Help Your Loved One With PTSD’ so lets go with that; Illustrated

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

The next morning started with another tightening of the already dangerously coiled spring.

Not all at once — in fact, at the very start, things had been promising; Dave had voluntarily joined Rose and the trolls downstairs for breakfast, apparently having already been locked in some conversation with Karkat and not wanting to end it to retreat to his room. There was something slightly defensive about his posture over the plate as he pulled up a seat to join the rest around the kitchen counter, but he was still downstairs being social, and over a meal, no less. Even Mom hadn’t spoiled the mood, managing to keep her usual overbearing drunken displays of affection to a gentle hand on Dave’s shoulder and a subdued (albeit hungover-sounding) “good morning.” She’d taken a plate of (slightly burnt, on account of cooking never being Rose’s strong suit) pancakes and gone about her own business elsewhere in the house toting a flask of red wine, and that was that.

For about five minutes, Rose was reflecting on how she’d be able to tell Roxy that, troubles with Dirk aside, Dave really was making some progress.

Then Dirk came upstairs.

As with before, Dave had immediately fallen silent and still upon seeing his brother. Rose found herself internally begging him to stay, please, it was going so well, Dirk wasn’t even talking to them, just shuffling about picking up his morning coffee. She tried to keep conversation going, and the trolls seemed to catch on, but Dave’s eyes stayed fixed on Dirk behind his sunglasses. She caught the barest hint of tension relaxing in Dave’s shoulders as Dirk turned to leave, but he stopped, snapped his fingers, and turned right to look at Dave.

“Shit, right, Dave,” Dirk said, and Dave tensed up all over again, “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

“Yeah?” Everyone else had fallen expectantly quiet.

“Can you come over here? It’ll take two seconds, I promise,” Dirk said. “Just wanna address something, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Dave swallowed audibly and slipped out of his seat. Rose groaned.

“Dirk,” she said, “can this wait?”

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” Dirk said, looking at Dave rather than at her. “It’s about last night.”

Dave, now standing near Dirk on the other side of the counter, mumbled, “What about last night?”

Dirk gestured at the side of the fridge. “I’ve been thinking. About what you said. That pad of paper on the side of the fridge is what we use as the grocery list, and whenever we’re out of something, someone can just write what it is on the list, and I’ll pick it up next time I head out.” Dirk paused for a moment, and when Dave said nothing, he continued, “I thought that, uh. You could maybe draw a line down at the bottom and write anything you want for your room under there. That way you can have your own little stash and not be waking up scared in the middle of the night, and there’s less of a problem with things just disappearing.”

“…Kay,” said Dave.

Dirk stared for a long moment, expectantly, and when nothing else was forthcoming, he sighed. He didn’t seem to notice Dave’s slight flinch when he did so. “Alright, well, that’s all I wanted,” Dirk said. “I’ll leave you be, then.” With that, he took his exit.

Dave stood still in the kitchen for a long moment afterwards. Rose shared a worried look with the trolls.

“Dave?” said Karkat.

Another pause.

“Nope,” said Dave, quietly but firmly. He flickered, and was gone, the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut following after.

“Damn it.” Rose cupped her face in her palm. “Damn it, things were going well, for fuck’s sakes…”

Karkat stared at Dave’s still mostly full plate where it sat abandoned before his now empty seat at the counter. “I’m going up to check on him,” he said, picking up the plate as well as he own and carefully heading upstairs.

Kanaya fidgeted awkwardly in her chair, tapping her fork against the side of her own dish. “Um,” she said, biting her lip, “What time did you say that Roxy would be here, again?”

“Not soon enough,” said Rose.

Figuring out how to knock while holding two circular nutritionplanes was a bit of an ordeal, but Karkat managed without spilling too much syrup. “Hey, Dave?” he called out. “Are you alright in there?”

“Nope,” came Dave’s reply. “We are closed for business. Come back again some other time. We’re sorry for any inconvenience, our business hours are ‘not the fuck right now,’ we hope to see you again soon.”

“Dave, open the fucking door or I’m dumping your weird sticky human food right here in the entrance for you to clean up later.”

He was rewarded with a loud, overdramatic sigh, and the usual sliding sounds of Dave dealing with the chair he still always used as an extra layer of security before the door clicked open. “I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Dave said, “you came up here for nothing. I’m not hungry.”

“Like hell I did. Let me in.”

Dave shrugged, and stepped aside. Karkat dropped Dave’s plate down on the table next to his sleeping platform, and plopped his own ass down on the door, shoving the weird delicious human flatbread breakfast into his mouth as cantankerously as he can manage. Dave reblocked the door and flopped heavily on the bed, groaning into his hands.

“That was a fuckin’ nightmare,” he said. “Sorry for taking off, but, ha, yeah, naw. You get me? Just. Nah.”

He was twitchy as hell, Karkat could see that much. It looked almost like he was charged with electricity. He was only on the bed for a few seconds before he was up again, pacing almost manicly. “I mean, Jesus, I dunno what the fuck that was…whatever.”

“Dave, either calm down and figure out how to express what you’re getting at in words that I can understand, so we can have a productive conversation,” said Karkat, “Or eat your fucking food that I so graciously bothered to bring up to you.”

Dave snorted. “Told you, man, I’m not hungry, and I’m…I fuckin’ dump enough bullshit on you as is. Don’t sweat it. I’m fine.”

“The hell you are. Talk to me.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, dude, lay off,” Dave said. “Why can’t we talk about something else? What’s the fuckin’ weather doing, I dunno.”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “Dave, I didn’t come all the way up here to check on you just so you could jerk me around! I’m worried about you! This Dirk thing is getting scary as hell!”

“Well, gee, sweetheart, I didn’t realize you cared so much,” Dave said, a sarcastic edge creeping into his voice. “Wish you woulda at least taken me out to dinner first, since we’re apparently fuckin’ married now. Was the ceremony nice? Did I look good in my dress at least?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Well, we musta gotten married, with how fuckin’ entitled to my personal thoughts you think you are. Put a ring on it first, motherfucker.”

Karkat narrowed his eyes. “Is this — did you somehow turn this into your weird fucking human sexuality bullshit on me? Dave, what the fuck, I’m trying to help you, I’m not flirting!”

“Aren’t you, though?” Dave said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Like, I do listen when you ramble about your bullshit movies, man. Is this that one weird quadrant shit, the bro one?”

“The wh— for fuck’s sakes, Dave, not everything is about quadrants! I’m not that shallow, you great, screeching assblister!” Karkat snapped. “I’m asking as your fucking friend! Remember that whole conversation we had? About how you’re my fucking friend and your wellbeing matters to me?”

“I mean, that one was pretty gay too, but —��

“I will walk right the fuck out of this room, is that what you want?!”

“No!” Dave startled. “No, shit, dude, I — I’m sorry, fuck, I’m being an asshole, god. I just. I really don’t wanna talk about the Dirk thing right now.” He was twisting his hands together, biting his lip as he shifted his weight.

“Why not,” Karkat said.

(Don’t let it get to you, he told himself, it’s fine. It’s a stupid pale crush, and, okay, so his hangups mean that probably won’t happen, but you can still be friends. It’s fine. This is fine.)

“I don’t…I can’t figure it out for myself yet, man,” he said. “It’s a bunch of fucked up emotions and shit that I haven’t sorted out into words yet, and I don’t know what it all means, and it’s…I’m not ready, okay? But I don’t…want you to be mad at me, either, I just. I’m trying to change the subject.”

Karkat took a big bite, finishing off his breakfast. He swallowed carefully, and neatly put aside his mealplane on the table next to Dave’s. He took a deep breath, carefully folding his hands in his lap, and looked at Dave, keeping his face neutral.

“And your way of doing that was to go straight to your fucked up human sexuality bullshit?!!” he yelled, gesturing wildly.

Dave snorted. “Fuck, sorry, yeah,” Dave said. “I mean, in my defense, some of the shit we talk about gets pretty gay.”

“Say that word one more time and I’m shoving both our goddamn mealplanes up your ass,” Karkat said, and was left blinking in confusion when Dave responded with a burst of helpless laughter.

Roxy had reeeeally been hoping that things would maybe be marginally better by the time she got there. Like, just the teensiest bit on the up compared to the situation Rose had texted her about the night before. Judging by the swarm of new texts she saw when she checked her phone upon reaching the big Lalonde house driveway, that was not the case at all. Fuck. Dirk, come on, dude.

Today was gonna be a day.

Well, nothing else for it, Rose was right and something had to change.

She went through the usual routine on first arrival — or tried to, at least. Dave wouldn’t come out of his room yet, which meant she couldn’t hug him. Judging by the muffled sounds coming through his bedroom door, he and Karkat were up to some sort of nonsense bickering, but the kid wasn’t willing to come out. Kanaya’d apparently decided to avoid the whole mess, and had retreated to her own room, promising to come out if she was needed. So Roxy barely got to say hi to anyone, which sucked super hard, but at least it made talking to Rose a little easier.

Not that Rose had much to say. Soon as Roxy was aware of the situation and had been gently turned away at Dave’s door, Rose had turned to her and said, full of pleading and exhaustion, “Fix this.”

“I dunno if I can, girl,” Roxy said. “I’m not a miracle worker, here, and this sounds like it’s gettin’ pretty ugly.”

“You fixed things between Dirk and Jake,” said Rose, “So you should be able to get this sorted out, too. Just do whatever you did back then!”

Roxy winced and took a deeep breath. Hooboy.

“Couple of things,” she said, clasping her hands together. “First of all, I would not personally describe my involvement with the Dirk-Jake, ah, situation as ‘fixing’ it. Like. That would imply that I smoothed everything right over and they were able to start being happy boyfriends right away, and that’s hells of not what went down. I at best got them talking to each other again, which was a miracle in and of itself, lets be real, those two self destructed hard and it’s a wonder they’re talking at all. And, like, let’s not forget, Jake still immediately went off to study abroad for a buncha months right afterward, which, sure, might have been super unrelated, except he responded to approximately zero of me, Dirk, and Jane’s messages over the time he was gone. He’s talking to us now, at least, and I think that ‘us’ includes Dirk, but I sincerely do not know if those two decided to try dating again or just to be friends, and I’m not sure they know, either? So, uh, that’s still kind of a mess.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “It’s less of a mess, though,” she insisted, “And at this point, I’ll take what I can get. Dave keeps making progress, he’s so close to some real breakthrough, I can feel it! But every time we get close to him having an actual, honest to God good day, Dirk strolls in and Dave bolts!”

“Whiiiiich brings us to problem number two,” Roxy said, “which would be the fact that if I do to Dave what I did to get Dirk and Jake talking, Dave is going to hate me.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “A bit of anger now is worth some long term peace, I’d think.”

“‘A bit of anger’ is what Dirk’s gonna have,” said Roxy, “I’m not worried about that. No, I mean that if I use the patented Roxy Strategy (tee em) for dealing with Dirk’s anti-communication bullshit on Dave, he is going to fucking panic and will probably never trust me again and Rose I don’t wanna not be able to hug my cousin, do you get me Rose, I mean I’ll do it if it comes down to that but I will die of not bein’ able to hug on Dave anymore and it will suck.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he’s not going to react that dramatically —“

“Rose, I got Jake and Dirk talking to each other again by shoving them into the same room and holding the door closed until they started talking about their feelings.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s all you did?”

“Yeah. And, again, if I do that to Dave, he’s gonna feel like I just threw him in with the fuckin’ lions. You’re the one who pointed out to me how much he hates getting cornered, remember?”

Rose ran a hand through her hair. “Damn it,” she muttered. “No, I understand, that’s…definitely something to be left as a last resort.”

“We can try persuasion and shit first,” Roxy said. “Like. I dunno how effective that’s gonna be, but we can give it a shot. Give them both a gentle shove in the right direction before we try dragging them off kicking and screaming, right?”

“Right,” Rose said, nodding. “What’s the plan, then? We need to do something, before things grow to the point where there’s no relationship to be salvaged.”

“Yeah, totes,” said Roxy, tapping a finger against her chin. Hopefully Dirk would be less stubborn here than he had been with Jake, since Dave was his little brother and all.

Then again, he might be even more stubborn because of that. Roxy tried not to worry about that for now. Gotta stay optimistic. Gonna face this shit with the biggest smile. Yeah.

Unfortunately, Rose and Roxy’s patented plan of ‘Roxy talks to Dirk and Rose talks to Dave’ didn’t work out very well. Roxy tried about everything she could think of, from the super subtlest of hints (“Hey, so. You and Dave. How you guys doing?”), to more up front and blatant lines of questioning (“No, but seriously, have you hugged your brother yet? Dirk. Dirk holy shit it’s been months! No don’t go hug him now but like. Holy shit dude.”) to the very up front (“Okay for fucks sakes would you just talk to him?”), to no avail.

(“There’s nothing to say,” Dirk said, like a fuckin’ tool. “I don’t have anything to say to him. I’ve got no problems with him. He’s scared of me, I get it, I’ll just try and keep out of his way.”

“Tell him you love him, dumbass! He needs to hear it!”

“He knows that already, Rox. There’s no point. It’d probably just make him uncomfortable.”

Roxy’d had to hold her breath to keep from screaming.)

Rose hadn’t had any luck, either, when they reconvened. The way she described it, Dave had just been super evasive on the whole topic, constantly changing the subject and starting Karkat up bickering to dodge the topic of The Dirk Thing. So. That hadn’t worked either.

Balls.

Nothing else for it. She was gonna have to force the issue.

Uuuuuugh.

“Well, fuck,” she said, grimacing at Rose, “I think I’m gonna have to bite the bullet here, cuz. Give me a nice funeral when I literally die of hug deprivation, will you?”

“I’ll do what I can to help you smooth things over afterward,” Rose said. “Mom’s room, right?”

“Yeah,” Roxy sighed. “If we do it in Dave’s room it’ll feel like an invasion, but in Dirk’s it really will feel like we’re throwing him into the lion’s den. But theres gotta be only one way out, don’t wanna do it in someone’s room that’s occupied and it’ll be easier to convince Dirk to get in there…” She sighed again. “Gooood, Rose, why are your brothers so stubborn? This sucks.”

Rose frowned sympathetically. “Hopefully, this’ll all be worth it,” she said.

“Right,” said Roxy. “Go get Dirk, then.”

Rose dipped her head once and headed off to go trick the big dumb stubborn screwdriver to get his butt into Rachel’s room, leaving Roxy to figure out how to maneuver Dave down the same way.

She waited a minute or two, then, praying for that miracle that probably wasn’t going to happen, knocked on Dave’s bedroom door.

“Heeeeyy, kiddo,” she said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders as best she could, “Can I borrow you for a second?”

Dirk grumbled and got up from his desk. “What, so you’re hearing things, now?” he said, looking at Rose. He was too tired for this shit. He’d tried, he really had, to give Dave something — he didn’t mind at all, he could absolutely just grab an extra bag of groceries when he went shopping, and if it made Dave feel safer then it was no trouble, but the kid had acted like he’d been suggesting he set his most prized possessions on fire and dance on the fuckin’ ashes.

He was tired, and frustrated, and really didn’t want to deal with this shit. Roxy, much as he loved her, really hadn’t helped. And now Rose was having an issue, because of course she was.

“It might have just been a mouse,” Rose said, “But I doubt that Mom will be happy about it if that’s the case, as it was her room that I heard it in.”

“So put your fucking cat in there.”

“Dirk, please,” Rose said. “Better that we deal with this now, before it frightens Dave, don’t you think?”

Dirk groaned. “Alright, fine,” he said. “I’m going, Jesus.”

Mom’s room was the same as ever. Same old boxes of junk shoved into a corner, same haphazard dresser and disastrous closet, same excessive bottles of booze and tacky wizard shit everywhere, and no signs of any mice or rats or what the fuck ever. He was bent over, checking under the bed, when he heard Roxy’s voice coming up the hall.

“Hey, so, I’m really sorry about this,” she said, and then Dirk heard someone stumble heavily into the room, followed by the door quickly shutting. It didn’t take too long for him to formulate an educated guess as to what had happened. Right. Sure it was a mouse, Rose. Sure.

“For fuck’s sakes,” he muttered, sitting up to look over the bed. Yep, that was Dave, because of course it was.

“Roxy, what the fuck —“ Dave started, and then he spotted Dirk. Dirk watched him freeze, and then start desperately trying to pull the door back open, switching between banging on it and yanking at the handle.

Dirk ran a hand down his face and stood, walking closer to the door. He left space for Dave to do whatever he thought he was achieving, and said, “Jesus, Roxy, not this horseshit again.” This was fucking ridiculous.

“Sorry, Dave,” Roxy was saying, “this is the only way I know how to get your brother to talk about things —”

“There’s nothing to say! This isn’t like with Jake, we’re fine.” Well, that was kind of a lie, there were obviously problems — that was kind of hard to miss, especially with the quiet, incessant stream of ‘no no no no no’ Dirk could now hear from Dave. But really, he had nothing to say to Dave that wasn’t going to be absolutely, mortifyingly embarrassing for the both of them. Nobody needed to hear that shit.

Roxy evidently disagreed. “Like hell you are! Talk to your brother!!”

Dirk rolled his eyes, even knowing Roxy couldn’t see. “Fine,” he said, arms folded, voice dripping with sarcasm, “What should I say? ‘Crazy weather lately?’ ‘How about those —’”

Dave whirled around, face contorted into a snarl, and snapped, “I sure as hell don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Wh-”

Before Dirk could even form his thoughts back into coherency, Dave was back to frantically trying to get the door back open. For a long moment, Dirk couldn’t even process what had just happened. It was like the night before, except worse — that had been defensive, but this was pure aggression, an injured dog baring its teeth in a final warning.

That…that had to be what it was. Dave was scared, that was all. He was trapped in a room, and freaking out. He’d been pretty freaked out when he was chained up in the interrogation room, too, so it only stood to reason. Dirk tried to reach out, to put a hand on Dave’s shoulder, offer some comfort…

His hand was slapped away before even making contact. Dave’s back hit the door hard as he pressed himself up against it, attention now fully on Dirk. He was breathing hard and shaking, mouth slightly open and almost baring his teeth, every muscle tensed and ready for…Dirk didn’t even want to finish the thought. His mind rebelled at the notion of ever trying to harm his baby brother, it was fucking inconceivable, and yet Dave was here, ready to fight.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” he hissed, voice shaking more than his body, somehow.

“I’m not…Dave, I’m not going to hurt you,” Dirk said.

“I’d fucking prefer it if you did, at this point,” Dave snapped, feet scrabbling to push himself back harder against the door. “I don’t know what you want out of me, but I’m fuckin’ — just stop fucking with me, already!”

“I — when have I been fucking with you?”

“Constantly! Don’t fucking play dumb with me, you know exactly what you’re fucking doing! At least when Bro went all elusive and mysterious and shit, I could figure out what he was going for, what he wanted me to do or what he was trying to teach me, but you’re — one minute you’re being all fucking nice for no reason, then the next time I see you I might as well be a rat that just crawled out of the toilet or a fucking stain on the wall to you! You’re the one who kept going on about how much better off I’d be here with you guys, but at least with Bro I knew where I stood with him! Just — enough of the mind games, already! You fucking suck at them and I’m sick to death of it!”

“I…I,” Dirk tried to say. Again, Dave was too quick, hand reaching for the doorknob without taking his eyes off of Dirk, but by this time, it seemed, Roxy had left them alone, and, feeling the knob turn in his hand, Dave darted out of the room.

Dirk heard a muffled sound from Roxy out in the hallway, but for a long moment, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

He felt like he’d been punched in the chest. With an entire train, maybe.

He’d assumed Dave’s fears were…were just vague associations, not…not him being worse than…

Panic welled up in him, forcing his legs to move. He burst out the door and tried to give chase, but Dave was long gone. He skidded into the main room, where the trolls had both come downstairs, and Roxy was slumped in a sad heap on the couch.

“Yyyyup, he hates me,” she whined. “Wouldn’t even look at me, augh, poor guy — Dirk, please tell me you talked to him, please tell me I didn’t just blow everything for nothing.”

“What did you even do?!” Karkat yelled. “That was like, two minutes, I was barely out of his room when he fucking raced back in, and now he won’t even answer me!”

“Roxy and I attempted what is colloquially known as an intervention,” Rose said.

“He — no,” Dirk said, finding his voice, “I didn’t — I couldn’t think, he didn’t give me a chance to respond, he just —I need to talk to him, there’s gotta be a way to — please, I need to fix this.” Dirk almost wished he hadn’t found his voice, if only so he could stop babbling, now. Fuck, couldn’t think clear enough to keep his cool, though — Dave had looked so fucking angry and scared, he’d fucked everything up…

Karkat whirled on Dirk, mouth open like he was ready to shout, and stopped, his expression turning startled upon seeing Dirk’s. Karkat’s eyes softened, and he sighed. “Okay, well, I want a full fucking explanation later,” he said, “But. Look, if you really want to actually fucking fix things, then we can try and help.”

“Please,” said Dirk.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck shit goddamned hellfucking fuck.

Dave couldn’t even think at first, Jesus fuck, why the hell did Roxy do that?! He felt — betrayed, almost, like he still figured she must’ve had a good reason, and she’d apologized for it a lot, but, god, she might as well have tied a raw steak to his dick and thrown him into a shark tank!

He was hiding in his own damn closet. Jesus Christ, this was pathetic.

It helped, though, at first. The darkness and cool and quiet was enough to get his pulse down a little bit, help him steady his breathing. Until it wasn’t. Until it turned claustrophobic, and he felt trapped, trapped in another room, trapped in this house, trapped in his own skin — he had to get out, fuck. Kicking the closet door back open, he heaved his bedroom window open and scrambled up onto the roof.

It was sunset, and, shit, the sunsets up here in upstate New York were a lot prettier than the smoggy ones he was used to back in big-city Texas. There was nothing but forest for miles around, though. Just a shit ton of fucking leaves, turned purple in the light of dusk and blowing in the breeze, lookin’ like some lavender-ass ocean of ‘fuck you, you’re trapped in a foreign place in a house with a guy who scares the shit out of you and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.’

God, panicking was an absolute lead weight on his metaphor skills. Hear that shit plummeting for miles, straight to the bottom.

The fresh air helped clear his head, at least. He sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over his open window, and just….breathed. Closed his eyes, tried to imagine the sounds of the city instead of these wild animal noises. Pretended the sun on his back was hotter, the air heavier.

It…didn’t actually help as much as he thought it was, imagining all that, so he stopped.

Tuned the world out and breathed.

He had no idea how long he was sitting there, letting his thoughts slow down enough that they weren’t chasing their tails so hard they had their noses shoved up their asses, and let himself relax.

By the time he heard someone else climb up onto the roof, he was calm enough to turn to them without jumping.

Realizing it was Dirk brought all that tension roaring right back in, though. Fun stuff. Love it.

Dirk cleared his throat and stepped a little closer. Dave tensed up harder, ready to bolt. He would jump right off this roof. There were trees, he’d be fine. Fuck the house arrest rules bullshit, he’d go off and be feral in the woods or some shit. Dirk seemed to get the message, though. He held a hand up and stopped, then sat down right there. There was still a good few yards between them, which suited Dave just fine.

The ideal distance woulda been ‘the other side of the planet,’ of course, but a few yards would do in a pinch, he guessed.

“I have a, um,” Dirk…said. (Stammered. Except, no he didn’t, Dirk wouldn’t fucking stammer. Would he? Not unless it was another fucking mind game. Fuck off.) “Karkat called it a peace offering, if you want it.”

“Toss it,” Dave said. If Karkat had suggested it, he trusted it. Then again, Dirk could be lying.

What was tossed his way turned out to be a bottle of apple juice, which was cute, he guessed, and definitely the kind of thing Karkat might come up with. Dave set it to the side, for now. His mouth was dry as hell, sure. Shit made the Sahara look absolutely humid, but he wasn’t about to just drink something from this guy yet.

“I wanted to talk,” Dirk said.

“Thought there was nothing to say,” Dave said, and Dirk…winced.

“I thought I didn’t,” Dirk said, his voice soft. He was looking at the ground (well, the roof) near Dave, rather than at him, and his facial expression was soft in a way that Dave didn’t think he’d ever seen, not on those features. “I…made some stupid assumptions, from the look of things. Thought certain things went without saying, just because I wouldn’t need to say them to Rose or Mom, but.” He sighed, and turned his eyes up.

“Dave,” he said, “I’m really sorry I made you think I wanted something from you, or that I’ve…The truth is, I have,” and a self deprecating laugh crept into his voice, one hand running through his hair, “Absolutely no idea what I’m doing when it comes to you. I know how to be Rose’s brother, because we grew up together. I’m not always good at it, but I at least have a general idea of what she needs from me, but I don’t have that with you. I’m.” Another soft, bitter laugh. “God knows I owe you an explanation or fifty, but I don’t really have a good one. I guess I’m just a kind of shitty big brother.”

Dave blinked, then squinted behind his shades.

Dirk was shaking, holy shit. Actually shaking. If this was still an act, it was a better one than Bro had ever pulled off.

“Can I come closer?” Dirk asked. Dave nodded, mutely. He grabbed the juice and scooted over, as Dirk swung his own legs over the edge.

They weren’t totally side by side, but a lot closer, and, yeah, Dirk’s hands were fucking shaking and one of them was gripping his other arm so hard it looked like it was gonna bruise.

Had he suddenly transferred into a new universe or something? What the fuck?

Dirk waited a long moment before talking again, maybe waiting for Dave to say something, maybe just gathering his thoughts. Eventually, he heaved a deep breath, and started up again.

“Alright, so, uh. Explanations. Right. I’ve, um.” He rubbed at the back of his head a moment. “I’ve…basically spent the last ten years building everything on this…this absurd, stupid fantasy of sweeping in to save the day, to be the one who rescues you and brings you home. It was stupid, it was silly, I was the brave knight on a white horse and all that dumb shit, and even when I got older and I tried adapting it to feel less stupid, it was still the same at its core. It…I…” He swallowed. “I always kind of felt like you getting taken was my fault, and this…insane fantasy of being the one to fix everything was the only way I could cope.

“And then…out of nowhere, I got my chance. The old man just handed it to me, and I spent months planning it all out, going over every detail, every sentence I would say, every move I’d make, over and over ad nauseum.” Dirk’s hands curled into fists, face twisting in a mix of anger and pain. “And with hardly any effort at all,” he said, “he smashed my stupid fucking plan to smithereens, made everything I tried to do, everything I’ve trained for, look like a joke, and to top it all off… the universe just drops you in my lap.”

The tension dropped out of his face, and his voice softened, but the bitterness stayed. “I should’ve been grateful, any normal person would’ve been grateful, been fucking happy to have their goddamn brother back, but I’m enough of a fucking disaster that breaking that perfect script I’d constructed meant that I suddenly had no idea what the fuck to do.” He was getting worked up again, and Dave…should have been scared. He wasn’t. “I must’ve thought a thousand times about what the first thing I’d say to you when I saw you again would be,” Dirk said, his face starting to tighten again, “I must’ve rehearsed my carefully controlled version of that scene a thousand times, but none of what I imagined involved Terezi dragging me to the observation window of an interrogation room and you just being there, and I…I panicked. I got scared off by the sight of my baby brother because things didn’t go just how I wanted. Because not having total control over that perfect, idealized reunion meant that I lost all points of reference, and probably also because you’re not my baby brother anymore, you’ve grown up a lot, you’ve spent ten years living a life I’m never going to fully understand, and — fuck, at least with Rose, I have some semblance of an idea of what I’m doing, but I — I fucked everything up, letting that plan fall through, and with that gone I have no idea how to be your brother anymore, and I’m so goddamn scared that I’m going to hurt you by accident that I…figured it was better to just. Keep interactions to a minimum. Because, god, Dave, I could never forgive myself if I hurt you — I can never forgive myself for hurting you as much as I have by trying not to hurt you, fuck. I’m so sorry, Dave, I…”

He swallowed hard.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, and it terrifies me.”

Another long pause.

“Roxy was right,” Dirk said, quiet again, “I shouldn’t have taken things for granted. Shouldn’t have assumed that you’d just know, that I didn’t need to say it, but. I.” Another deep breath. “I love you, Dave,” he said (and Dave felt the tightness that had been building in his chest snap and melt into something warm and overwhelming), “And I’m really glad you’re home. And most of all I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t make that clear from the beginning.”

(That melted wave of what the fuck was overriding everything, building up into pressure again, a wall of…of pain and joy and relief, pooling in his chest, in his throat, behind his eyes — oh, god, fuck that, he hadn’t fucking cried since he was a toddler, fuck that — and yet…and yet.)

“Fuck it,” Dave muttered. Dirk tilted his head toward Dave, a question on his lips, but he sure as shit didn’t get a chance to ask it before he had to deal with one embarrassingly sobby little brother getting all up in his grill. Dave buried his face in Dirk’s shoulder, wrapped his arms around his brother’s chest, tried to squish the tears before they had a chance to happen. It didn’t work.

He felt Dirk sort of freeze underneath him, hesitating for a long moment, and Dave couldn’t blame him, this shit had to be awkward as hell, but. Shit, this hug was happening, there was no stopping it. Dirk gave in, too, sort of gently resting his arms across Dave’s back. He kept it light, like he thought Dave was gonna shatter if he wasn’t careful. Joke’s on him, the gentleness was what shattered Dave, haha, fuck, more tears were happening.

“Fuck, sorry, fuck,” Dave sobbed into Dirk’s shirt, like a big fucking loser, “this is so embarrassing, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah,” Dirk said, “yeah, this is pretty shitty.”

“The worst,” said Dave.

“Two assholes crying on a roof,” said Dirk.

“God, I’m — fuck, two?!” Dave nearly choked.

“Yeah,” Dirk said, and, oh fuck, Dave could hear it in his voice now, he totally was, he absolutely was crying, too — “yeah, this is why I didn’t wanna say any of that back in the interrogation room. I, uh,” and he fucking sniffled, and Dave couldn’t stop himself from a helpless little giggle in the middle of all this laughing because it was just. Holy shit. “I thought, for some inane reason, that me having a breakdown on you was maybe not the best way to re-establish a brotherly relationship.”

Dave was laughing a lot, now. And also crying a lot. The relief had intensified, because Jesus Christ, if Dirk was crying then maybe he wasn’t so bad off.

His arms had tightened around Dave, no longer holding him with the fear of shattering, but now clinging to him with the strength of a vice, like he was scared Dave would vanish if he didn’t hang on tight enough. Dave felt Dirk bury his face in Dave’s hair, pulling the two of them closer and closer together, both of them shaking.

Dirk cried more than spoke, between harsh gasps, “I was so fucking scared when that stupid plan failed, that I — fuck, that the only way I’d bring you home was in a box, that it was too late, that I’d lost you forever, I — Dave, I love you so much, I’m so fucking sorry I assumed you knew that, I should’ve said it, should’ve — fuck,”

“I’m pretty happy about being here, too,” Dave whispered.

“I love you,” Dirk said again.

“Yeah,” said Dave.

They sat like that for…a pretty long time. Long enough that the sun had pretty much set by the time they both stopped crying.

Without pulling his head up, Dave sighed, and said, “So, uh. Just so we’re clear, neither of us is ever telling anyone about this fuckin’ trainwreck of a conversation, right?”

Dirk snorted with a shocked laugh, and Dave smiled against his shirt.

“Yeah,” said Dirk, “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Two days later, Dirk accidentally startled Dave in the kitchen, and felt his heart sink as he watched his brother bolt away. Again.

Had everything been for nothing, then? Were they back to square one?

And then he caught sight of what Dave had been doing.

As he looked at the scrawled writing on the bottom of the list, Dirk couldn’t keep himself from breaking into a smile.

#dave strider #dirk strider #karkat vantas #roxy lalonde #rose lalonde #longpost #fanfic #fanfiction #calmvsstormfic #calmvsstormchapter #katt does a writing #mmmboy i did not edit this one v closely but w/ how much ive been chipping away at it i hope thats forgiveable #this chapters one of the Big Ones #and then we get an entire arc im hype for starting at the end of 24 but shh #anyway if u catch the taz reference in the art i love u

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whatwouldfrogsdo · 7 years ago

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Peeling Back the Layers (Part i: Chowder’s birthday)

“He didn't say for a reason and you forced it. Birthdays can be sensitive for some people, you know?”

Dex and Nursey talk after their fight on Chowder's birthday (parallel to Fresh Chapter 4)

This is the last day I'll be participating in NurseyDex week, because of various reasons, but to make up for it I'm posting two! (and who knows maybe I'll finally write these hockey games into the next chapter of Fresh to be posted and get it up before NurseyDex week is over because... reasons.)

Anyway, nominally the first is Nursey comforting Dex and the second is the other way around but actually this one I've tried to focus on both of them, and the next has some comfort from someone else as well

Content warnings for this chapter: - Grief//discussion of parental loss//mention of loss of a sibling - Implied family neglect (it's actually not true, but more on that next chapter) - Discussion of race and privilege etc. - Mention of homophobia

AO3

Will had figured out fairly early on that Nursey was messing with Chowder. It was slowly becoming their favorite game — to chirp their best friend who got worked up but still knew they liked him, while staying away from arguments with each other. Chowder didn’t seem like the sort of person who would hide his birthday for any reason other than to stop people making a fuss, so they figured that they could tease him about it without it causing any harm, and his reaction, though typically exaggerated, confirmed their suspicions. When Bitty found out anyway, though, more by their being too loud than anything else, Will suddenly doubted himself. He didn’t know everything about his new best friend and what if there was a reason that he had kept today a secret? What if their ability to turn the simplest of things into a competition and a fight had actually upset him? Will found himself struggling for breath as all the reasons he hated his own birthday flashed through his mind. So, he did the only thing that he could think of to keep his attention off his heart rate: he blamed Nursey.

“What the fuck. Chill, Poindexter, it's not—”

“He didn't say for a reason and you forced it. Birthdays can be sensitive for some people, you know?”

“For fuck’s sake, I know.”

“Oh, Chowder, honey did you not—” Bitty cut in.

“I just didn't want anyone to make a fuss. I do like my birthday.”

Will wanted to relax, but now that the doubts were swarming around his mind, he couldn’t help but worry that Chowder was just saying that, and the worst thing was that Nursey was still looking at him with that intense stare that he got sometimes when he wanted to make Will admit something. “Still your fault,” Will muttered in response to the stare.

“Lay off it. I wasn't even actually going to say anything. I'm not kidding when I say I know birthdays can be a sensitive thing.” When Will snorted, Nursey snapped. “Go on, then. What's your issue with birthdays? My parents have literally given each other presents on my birthday before and forgotten me. So don't try and preach to me about how they can be 'sensitive for some people'.”

His breath caught. It was the worst question to be asked for him anyway, but how could he reply when it would only look like he was trying to one-up Nursey? Not to mention that it was something he never talked about, and he definitely didn’t want to start here, with an audience no less. “I don't— Fuck you,” he stormed out, letting the door slam behind him.

Nursey’s words echoed in his mind as he walked down the road. Could it be true that the boy he had considered a spoiled brat, had actually been forgotten by his own parents on his birthday?

“Dex!”

It was Nursey’s voice, and Will scowled because this was the last thing he wanted to deal with when he had the alternative option of curling up in bed and crying because he missed his twin sister.

“Will, wait up. Please. I was just saying—”

Will snapped. “You were just saying what? That your parents don’t always buy you everything? Well at least you have fucking parents, Nurse, okay? You didn’t spend your twelfth birthday thinking about their funeral. You haven't spent every year since reliving their death. ”

Will closed his eyes as soon as he had said it so that he didn’t have to look at Nursey’s reaction, or see that pitying look he knew all too well. He heard the scrape of pavement as if Nursey had started to trip, but the thud of him hitting the ground never came.

“Will.” Nursey’s voice was close. “Will, look at me, please.”

Will squeezed his eyes tighter and shook his head. Warm fingers brushed against his cheekbone, and then he was pulled into a hug where he ended up crying into Nursey’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Nursey murmured.

Will hiccupped. “Me too.”

“Can we — Will, we really need to talk about this. Not about your parents, if you don’t want to, but about us fighting like that when C—”

“Yeah.” Will pulled away. He felt sick to the stomach. “Yeah, let’s go home and talk.”

It had now been almost two months since they had shared a bed, despite having vaguely talked about a potential friends with benefits situation, but they now both curled up on Nursey’s bed, close enough that they didn’t have to watch the other’s expression when dealing with the difficult conversation.

“If we’re going to keep fucking, we have to sort our shit out in private and talk about things before we end up yelling at each other,” Nursey said into Will’s hair. “You’re the one who said that when we first started.”

It was a funny thing to say when they still hadn’t had sex since that first time; still not done more than occasional kissing after a fight or a kegster since that conversation. Will knew what Nursey meant, though. “I’m sorry. I think one minute we were just messing about and the next I was thinking about— Did Bitty come and talk to you earlier?”

“This afternoon? Yeah.”

“You think I’m privileged. You’re always going on about it around other people in the team, but—” He screwed his eyes up as tears threatened once more.

“But at least I have parents,” Nursey finished, with a bitter tone.

“Yeah. And you have money, too. And yet you still applied for the scholarship.”

“Shit.” Nursey leaned his chin on the top of Will’s head. “That was— Look, I know you see me as privileged and entitled, but you’re probably the first person I’ve ever spent a lot of time with who thought that. I grew up around people who were more privileged and more entitled and if not richer, at least in the same class, except that they were usually white. I heard you bring up the scholarship and I thought here we go, here’s another white kid who thinks he’s entitled to the world, and I got angry, because I’ve spent my whole life with people assuming all sorts of things about me and then taking opportunities like that away from me because of those bullshit assumptions. I— I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to make you feel like you might lose out on the scholarship just because of a rich kid trying to prove a point, but yes you're privileged. And the fact that I'm rich is not the same as you being white. It just isn't. They're not things we can compare. It's not like I get so many privilege points for my parents' incomes, and you get some for the color of your skin and being Christian, and then I get a few more for going to a private school. That's not how it fucking works.”

Will nuzzled closer to Nursey's collarbone. “Sorry,” he croaked.

“You have a lot of privileges, which I don’t know if you always realize,” Nursey continued. Will bit on his lip to stop himself from replying too soon. “I thought you were starting to try but then you go and put a Republican sticker on your laptop and I don’t know what to think of that.”

“I did that because my foster family rang.”

“What?”

“My foster family. When I said I was going to Samwell, it was only ever because of the scholarship, but they still made sure I knew that they didn’t really approve. But that they’d still let me go back there at Christmas, and next summer and see my siblings, because they knew it wasn’t like I was one of— one of ‘those gays’ or anything.”

Nursey sucked in a breath. “That’s why you won’t come out? Because of some asshole—”

“Because my sisters need me. I mean… they're not really my sisters, just foster siblings but I always considered them more than that. I was even there when Chloë was born. But sometimes I worry. At any time, they could stop letting me go back. It’s not like they signed any contract or anything to still have me around after I turned eighteen.”

“So the sticker—” Nursey trailed off, waiting for an explanation.

“I thought if I can go back over break and show them that I got involved in Samwell Republicans, it would be okay. I’m not political. I’ve never had time to even think about it. I guess, yeah, I’m a Republican because that’s what I grew up with the most, and as far as the Buchard family are concerned that’s what they have to think I am. They don’t need to know that I just stole the sticker and that I’m really fucking gay. Of course it makes them assholes that they’d care, but—”

“Okay. I get it. It doesn’t— I’m— I’ll lay off about the whole coming out thing, at least?”

Will let out a sigh, and sat up so that he could look Nursey in the eyes. He had ended up so far down the bed that he had to turn around completely to be able to look at him. “Thank-you. I will try more to understand with the whole privilege thing. And I guess we all have our family issues.”

Nursey sighed. “I don’t have family issues. Not really. Not— But privilege— yeah, if you can understand that. Not just relying on me and Ransom to inform you on issues, or thinking you can get away with ignorance. It’s kind of a privilege you can be unpolitical in the first place.”

Will bit his lip. He hadn’t considered it like that before. “Right. So I’ll read more about it, and educate myself on all the civil rights stuff. And I’m sorry you got treated like that, and that I brought those memories back. That I contributed to that. That I still am. You— You deserve to be appreciated.”

The silence that followed dragged on for so long that Will had to put a hand on Nursey's cheek and turn his head to check if he was crying. He wasn’t, but when their eyes crossed, he offered up a strained smile. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. We, uh, we should go and apologize to Chowder?”

“Mm. Hey, one other thing first? Putting all the blame on me for fights? I know it's self-defense or whatever, but—” He shrugged, and never finished his sentence.

Will shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t know— No, that's a lie, I do know why I did that, but it was shitty and unnecessary. I won’t again, I promise.”

“Thanks. What should we do for Chowder’s birthday?”

“That’s today.”

“And Target should still be open if we take my car.”

Will jumped up suddenly. “Oh my God, they had shark-themed dinnerware last time I was in.”

“Perfect. We could do an aquarium trip, too? I think he’d appreciate it if he thought we were trying to be friends.”

Will pulled a face. “How much does that cost?”

“Okay, so the aquarium trip is my present to Chowder, and I’m paying for us to go and be good friends there, as well. You can buy the shark things.”

“Derek—”

“Will.”

“ Fine. ”

Nursey smiled smugly. “Good. Now how about I go and pick them up, and you can go to the Haus first. We should probably apologize separately, and no offence but you are the one who left all angrily so you should probably clear the air first.”

#nurseydex week #nurseydex #omgcp fanfic #check please!#stephwrites #freshverse tag

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phanwritings · 8 years ago

Text

Alone and Lonely; A Study in Human Emotion

Tittle: Alone and Lonely; A Study In Human Emotion

Word count: 17,475

Summary: The one where they decide to get married on a whim after just meeting each other.

Warnings/trigger warnings: OCD (Dan had OCD and it is briefly discussed), mentions/implications of sex, swearing, make out scene, mentions of homophobia.

A/N: I have been working on this for 2 months. Please enjoy and like it. That's literally all I ask. (this is kind of unedited)

"There's a difference between alone and lonely."

"Well, which one are you?"

"I don't know."

"Let's get married."

"Excuse me?"

"There's a chapel down the road, let's go."

It was a rainy, drizzly day in London, England. Tourists were braving the rain to see more of the beautiful city that they were vacationing in, whereas natives simply stayed in their homes on the drab Sunday. Phil Lester had decided to go out in the storm anyways - it really wasn't that bad. It was just sprinkling. Well, sprinkling heavily would be a better way to put it.

Phil had simply been sitting in a cafe - an overcrowded cafe - when a man who he had never met before plopped down in the chair opposite him.

"Excuse you?" Phil had said, not caring that he was being blatantly rude.

"Ah, yes, excuse me," The man said. He pushed some of his curly brown hair out of his eyes, showing more of his matching eyes. Placing his drink down on the table, he extended his hand like he expected Phil to shake it or something. "Name's Dan, well, it's actually Daniel, you can only call me that if I'm in trouble, though. You're table is the last available seat in this whole damn place."

"Well, why don't you go and stand somewhere? Isn't it kind of rude to sit at someone's table without even asking?" Phil huffed. "What would you have if I was saving that seat for someone?"

"I knew you weren't saving this seat for anyone!" The man, Dan, exclaimed.

"How?" Phil had asked, half annoyed and half curious.

"You look like the kind of guy who doesn't have any friends to sit with on a Sunday morning in a cafe."

"Well, that's rude! You have no place to say that, this is my table after all." Phil shrieked.

"That doesn't stop you from being rude when you sit in a random person's chair!"

"Honey," He had said, his voice all of sudden thick and as sweet as butter, practically dripping with entitlement. "When you're as pretty as me, you can sit wherever you want."

"That's incredibly dehumanizing and ignorant of you." Phil said factually.

This man was pressing all of Phil's buttons. Who the hell did he think he was? "Okay, I get the ignorant part, but the dehumanizing part I don't really understand-"

"Get out of my chair!" Phil nearly yelled, gripping his coffee tightly in his hand. This trip to the cafe was supposed to relaxing for him, not more stressful! He was a author for heaven's sake! He needed to calm down! How was he supposed to focus on his work when a crazy man is being a jerk?

"Actually, this isn't your chair, it's the restaurant's-" Phil cut him off yet again.

"I don't care who owns the chair, get the hell out of it!" Phil couldn't remember a time he was so riled up. However, Dan didn't seem to share the same passion as Phil did. Something that was making Phil even more mad. Dan just sat calmly in the chair (not his chair, the chair) and even started to sip at his coffee. He didn't respond to Phil's last request for two minutes.

"You look lonely." Dan said, catching Phil off guard.

"There's a difference between alone and lonely." Phil retorted, glaring at Dan. He was not lonely.

"Well, which one are you?" Dan took another sip of coffee. Phil was becoming more interested in whoever this insane man was.

"I don't know." Phil said, shocked at how sad his voice sounded compared to the angry, ranting, aggravated tone it had not even five minutes ago.

"Let's get married." Dan said. Phil had to cough multiple times to make sure he didn't choke on the sip of coffee he had just taken before Dan had said something so stupid and crazy.

"Excuse me?" Phil muttered.

"There's a chapel down the road, let's go. Take a risk for once in your life." Dan stood up, extending his arm towards Phil. For some reason, Phil took his hand. He could already feel his palms sweating. What was he doing? Why was he agreeing to go some place with this man, this crazy, lunatic man? He could kill him! Phil adjusted the glasses on his face. There was no way that he was getting married today. Then why was he holding Dan's hand?

Dan led them out of the cafe and down the busy street of busy London - the city where Phil had lived for the past two years of his life. He fit well with the city. At least, he felt like he did. It had captured his heart on a school field trip years ago. Two years ago, he had made the decision to move here. It had probably been the best choice he's made so far, obvious by the fact he was blindly following Dan as he led them to different corners that Phil half-knew. Why hadn't he run yet? His coffee was still warm and drinkable.

"We aren't actually getting married, right?"

"Are you kidding? Of course we are."

"Are you kidding?" Phil retorted. "No, we aren't. There's no way that you - a complete stranger - is going to marry me, a complete stranger. Nobody does that."

"Plenty of drunk people do this daily." Dan said, still pulling Phil towards this church that he knew.

"That's not a good enough reason to do something, I pray you know and realize that." Dan only shrugged. Phil groaned.

"I'm not marrying you sober." Phil said this in the hope that Dan would stop. He didn't.

"Might as well get you drunk then. I know this good bar that's open 24/7, shall we go?" Phil stared at him, bewildered. He was serious?

"You don't even know my name!" Phil exclaimed, throwing the one hand that wasn't attached to Dan's up in the air.

"What's your name then?" Dan asked.

"Phil." He replied, questioning his sanity with every step they took.

"Let's go Phil, I'd like to get you drunk before 5 p.m. I'm thinking about Nando's for our first dinner as a married couple?"

"Nando's? Are you insane?" Phil pretended to be outraged. He might as well go along with this abnormal idea that this abnormal man had thought. "I would expect you to have more respect for our first meal together." Dan laughed, pulling him closer to his side. Phil was surprised but went along with it. Why not?

The bar that Dan brought Phil to was not what he expected. It looked just like a bar would - even though it was ten in the morning. Colored lights were projected everywhere, draping the walls in ever-changing prisms of light. The bar was definitely less crowded than normal - thank God for that. Phil would seriously worry for the people of this city if the bar was at a normal capacity for the weekend. "How do you even know about this place?"

"I work here."

"Here?" Phil questioned skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, why not?" Dan responded, copying Phil and quirking an eyebrow as well.

"Is that your only job?"

"Nah, I actually write books. This is just another source of income for me."

"I'm an author too!" Phil exclaimed, glad to have found some common ground with Dan.

"Wait, really?" Dan looked at him like he might be lying or something. "What genre?"

"Sc-fi, fantasy, with a side of romance," Phil listed the top three he commonly wrote in and explored. "You?"

"I write about romance. Because I write about romance I automatically write about sex, too."

Phil laughed. He really laughed. He didn't know why he laughed so hard, but the way that Dan had said it was hilarious to Phil. Maybe it was the weight of what he was getting himself into dawning on him. That was definitely it. "So, are you experienced with either of the subjects you write?"

"I mean, pretty experienced, if I do say so myself."

"Well, I'll have to find out for myself then." Phil coyly said, closely watching Dan's face as he did. To his satisfaction, Dan just nods, smirking slightly, and leads him to the bar.

"Louise!" A blonde woman walks out with a impressed look on her face.

"Daniel, we've been over this, you cannot just walk in here and-"

"Louise, look, I brought my fiance!" Dan shoved Phil towards the bar that Louise was standing behind. A look of surprise overcame her face, and Phil considered that relatable. He too was surprised that Dan brought him to this place and was introducing him to his co-worker, and probably, friend. "I need to get him drunk."

"Why does he need to get you drunk at ten thirty on a Sunday morning?" She asked him, giving him a look over before a horrified expression came over her face. "You aren't trying to get him into a church, right? I tried that once, don't do it. For the love of God, do not do it."

Phil laughed, listening to the way Dan's laugh blended in with his. "No, I am not trying to get him to go to church," Phil assured after he stopped laughing. "It's actually the other way around. He's trying to get me to a church."

"Him? In a church?" She turned to Dan, her ponytail swaying in the air with her movements. "Why are you trying to get him in a church? And him in a church - drunk? No one goes to church drunk, that's probably a sin or something."

Phil laughed again as Dan explained. "Well, he said we can't get married unless he's drunk. So, here we are."

Louise laughed. "Why haven't I met him before, Dan? Were you hiding him from me? That's rude." She moved to pull two glasses down from above the bar. Dan pushed him gently towards the bar, pulling out a seat from him and pushing him in once he was seated.

"Funny story, me and Phil just met about an hour ago." Dan said, not meeting Louise's eyes.

"What!" Louise cried. "Dan Howell, are you insane?"

"Your last name is Howell?" Phil questioned. Dan gave a brief nod and smile to him before turning back to address Louise. "Hm." He wasn't totally opposed to that as a last name. Or even a hyphenated version of their last names.

"I decided to start taking risks in life," Dan explained. "Why not?"

"Are you sure this is the right type of risk? Marriage is a big deal," Louise reasoned. "Look how things ended between Matt and me. Now we have to share Darcy, it's a big hassle sometimes."

"No offense, but it would be pretty impressive if I managed to get him pregnant," Dan said, clearly not taking anything seriously. "Don't worry though, I'm sure we'll be fine." Louise rolled her eyes and handed them their drinks.

"Clearly, I am not in control of either of you," Louise placed one of her hands on her hip, the other brushing against her brow and pushing some of her stray hair back. "Especially you, Howell. I'll simply have to wish you the best of luck. So, in that case, I wish you both the best marriage that could possibly come out of this arrangement." Dan smiled and gave her a over-the-counter hug, Phil just settled for smiling at her in silent thanks. He still wasn't quite sure what was going through his head. He figured that if both him and Dan put in a equal amount of work, they might have a shot of things working out. And if not? Their story would make an excellent novel. Maybe they could even do a collaboration to tell the story from both of their opposing sides. It would probably sell really well, his agent would freak.

"I still need to get drunk before I marry you," Phil reminded him. "And I expect you to be at least a little tipsy. So drink up." He and Dan toasted and then gulped their drinks. What on earth was he going to tell his mother?

Phil and Dan left the bar at 12:30 after being there for around two hours. Phil could be considered drunk and Dan was definitely "tipsy." They decided to head to the church after going for a walk in the local park. Phil didn't want to be so far gone in the wedding photos that the marriage looked like a drunken mistake instead of just a regular mistake. Dan and Phil held hands during most of their walk. Dan learned that Phil loved looking at (and pointing out) all the wildlife that scampered along the ground and swam in the pond. He loved to find birds nestled in the trees. His face would soften considerably and he would let out a soft "Aw," as he watched the momma bird feed the baby birds. Phil even took a picture, claiming that it was too cute not to. Throughout the entire time that Dan spent watching Phil, he was never once bored. In fact, all Dan could was remember was being fond of Phil and watching with a smile on his face. Fond. That was weird. He had only just met Phil, why was he practically fawning over him and baby birds. Dan mentally shrugged and instead focused on what they were doing now. Phil was suggesting that they buy something from the food venders before walking to the church. Dan considered it a great idea.

"Do you prefer tacos or pretzels?" Phil asked as they surveyed their choices of food.

"Tacos, duh," Dan said without a second thought. "That is unless you enjoy pretzels more, of course. If you do, I absolutely love pretzels and prefer them highly over tacos." Dan added after realizing how rude that probably sounded of him. He didn't want to seem ignorant towards Phil. That was the last thing he wanted to do, actually. Thankfully Phil only laughed at his declaration.

"For the record," Phil said after he had finished laughing. "Tacos are loads better than pretzels." Dan breathed a sigh of relief before ushering them into the line for tacos. They ordered a few each, as they were both properly starving. Phil wasn't as drunk as he was before - he was more tipsy now - so Dan suggested that they head over to the church. Phil agreed.

Dan had take to a moment to assess what he was doing. He was about to walk to a chapel with a man he had just met and get married. Had they even talked about where they were going to live after? Nope. "Hey, Phil," Dan said, grasping his hand again. Phil turned towards Dan. Dan pulled them over to the front of a shop so he could get out of the way for other people walking on the sidewalk. "We know almost nothing about each other." Phil nodded, processing the thought.

"You're right, we shouldn't do this," Phil said. "But, I still want to get to know you. Plus, we aren't taking a risk anymore. What happened to 'living life' and shit?"

Dan thought. He still wanted to take the risk. "How about we get married and in a month we can chose to stay married or get divorced?" Dan suggested. "You know that show 'Married At First Sight?' We can be like that, just without being filmed. And a expensive honeymoon, I'm almost broke." Phil considered this and then nodded.

"Whose apartment are we living at?" Phil asked, starting to walk again and pulling Dan with him. "I was thinking that we could scope out each other's apartments before dinner and then make the decision while we're eating, which will not be Nando's." Dan laughed.

"That sounds perfect. We're almost there." Dan said, noticing the sign for elopement chapel. Phil squeezed his hand. Dan squeezed back. The church was in view for them. It was a small building that was various shades of brown. Dan was only slightly terrified. But he wasn't going to back out. He refused to.

Him and Phil finally arrived outside of the little church for eloping couples. That describes them perfectly.

He pushed the door open, Phil on his trail as he walked into the musty building. It was small and dim, cozy in a way that would have to grow on you before you considered it warm. Dan liked those types of places best. He would always have to come back again and again until the place made him feel warm whenever he was in it, get used to it over time. He was that way with music to, he never liked a song after listening to it one time. He had to listen to it at least five times and know half the words before he could consider liking the song. Dan looked over to Phil, noticing how he too was looking around and admiring the decorations.

Dan wasn't big on churches. He was raised religiously but didn't continue going to church after he moved away from home. In fact, he wasn't sure if they really was a God or not. He didn't really care. Churches reminded him of sitting in stiff button-downs on the front pew while his mother or grandmother told him to try his hardest to stay still. The buildings filled with crosses and old men and sickly sweet ladies never failed to remind him of the familiar feeling of guilt. Of the boy who sung in choir, the one with blue eyes and dark brown hair that turned lighter in the summer and darker in the winter. He didn't like churches because they were the root of what made his mom disown him when he came out to her. He hadn't seen her since. Dan turned to find Phil, he hadn't seen him in his peripheral vision in a while.

Phil seemed to distract him from the pool of thoughts that never seemed to end in his head. He looked so beautiful in the light. Dan was extremely glad that his half-asleep self had decided to sit at his table instead of leaving. Phil's face was turned to an old painting of the Virgin Mary, meaning Dan had a excellent view of his profile. The sun coming in from the window by the painting was streaming in on Phil's side, perfectly highlighting part of his face. It made him look as if he was glowing. Dan wouldn't be surprised if Phil someday glowed. If anyone had a good enough personality to glow, it would be Phil.

Dan walked over to where Phil was standing, resting his head on Phil's shoulder. They may have just met, but Dan figured that because they were technically engaged, it would be okay for him to rest his head on his shoulder. They both continued to look at the painting. It was memorizing. The bumps left in the dried paint from the strokes of the brush seemed to form a road all over the design. Dan's eyes traced them all around in the swirling pattern. Why were they so fixated with a painting of a woman holding a baby, both draped in old pieces of cloth?

Phil let his head rest on top of his fiance's head, which was resting on his shoulder. Dan let out of a hum of content. Soon, they were broken out of their trance-like state when a cough came from the other side of the room. Phil and Dan stepped apart from each other as they turned to face a older plump man. The man had a balding head with white hair on the sides of his head, looking to be in his mid-fifties. He was wearing what normal pastors wear -- a black button down of some kind with black dress pants and black dress shoes. If it wasn't for the religious part, Dan would fit right in with the color scheme. "Hello," The man, clearly addressing them. "I'm Pastor Norris, what can I help you with?"

"We want to get married." The man didn't seem too fazed. He simply gestured for them to follow him to a room. He sat down behind the large desk, clearly meaning for them to sit down as well. The pastor started shuffling around for something. Dan and Phil sat awkwardly, sending each other glances. Phil started to laugh a little after a few minutes of sitting still while the man tried to find something. Dan quickly sent him a look that meant "shush!" Phil clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his giggles. The Pastor finally found whatever he was looking for and placed a paper in front of them. "It's a marriage certificate. Once you sign it, we can get started with the ceremony." They nodded. Dan took a deep breath when Phil handed the pen to him after signing. This was it, he was doing it. He carefully took the pen in his hand and signed on the dotted line. It was officially signed by both of them. Now they just had to say "I do." The thought sent chills down Dan's back.

"Looks good," Pastor Norris took the paper and put it in a frame after signing it himself. "Now if you'll just follow me out here, we can start the ceremony."

Phil and Dan stood, following the minister as he led to the worship auditorium. Dan gaped in awe. He knew that churches in London were known for being exceptionally beautiful, but he didn't realize how breath-taking they really are. Every window was a stained glass window, all the windows lined up told the story of Jesus' life on Earth. At the front of the church was a stained window in the form of a cross. The pews stood in a wide berth to draw attention to the windows. Prayer rooms were lined up along the right side of the church, one equipped with a fountain. Dan didn't realize how much he had missed the feeling of standing in a nearly empty church. Maybe the presence of God was an actual thing.

"So, shall we?" The pastor turned to them.

"Sure, let's do this." Phil spoke up. Dan simply nodded. This was going to be something.

"Is one of us going to walk down the aisle or should we just skip that part?" Dan asked. He suddenly realized how unconventional this wedding truly was. Neither of their families were present, in fact, they didn't have a clue that this was happening. Sure, two guys getting married is still a little non-traditional, but not having their families there or even planning it out? Now, that was considered non-traditional. Dan couldn't really find it in him to regret that decision though. He was living life and he chose to do it like this. His mom would probably forgive him.

The wedding march started playing in the background. Dan liked this. It kind of seemed like there were in a epic movie where they were spies about to get married in the middle of the movie before they go on a super-awesome-mission where they blow up multiple bad guy headquarters. Or something like that. He mentally face-palmed as he realized how has thoughts had gotten away from the present. He was getting married for heaven's sake.

So what? Dan had an over-reactive imagination sometimes. Not his fault. It fits his aesthetic perfectly. Dan smiled slightly as the pastor beginning to start the ceremony. Phil caught his eye and smiled softly. Dan could feel his heart beginning to melt.. He squeezed Phil's hands tightly. Their hands were tightly entwined at the request of the pastor.

"Do you, Philip Lester, take this man, Dan Howell, to be your lawfully wedded husband in sickness and health, till death do you part?"

"I do," Phil said, smiling. Now it was Dan's turn.

"Do you, Dan Howell, take this man, Philip Lester, to be your lawfully wedded husband in sickness and health, till death do you part?"

"I do," Dan said, meaning every word of the vow.

"We actually did that!" Phil hollered as they exited the church into the busy London street. "I just can't believe we forgot to buy rings." Dan laughed loudly, giddy on happiness and adrenaline.

"Let's go buy our rings!" Dan proposed, technically for the second time that day. He tried to remember a jewelry store anywhere near them. "I think that's there a store on the street over, should we try there?" Phil readily agreed, grasping Dan's hand and snuggled into his side. Dan loved it.

They arrived at the shop minutes later. Dan held the door open for Phil, successfully making him blush. Dan laughed and snaked his arm around Phil's waist as the walked up to the display case. Rings glittered in the spotlights focused on them. Personally, Dan wanted something simply. He was a flashy guy but not with his accessories, which a ring technically was. He had no idea where Phil stood when it came to rings. He was definitely willing to compromise. He didn't care so much about what the ring looked like but more about how Phil felt about it. He really wanted to have matching rings. What was the point in having wedding rings if they match? Okay, a lot of points still existed for them to have rings, but matching rings were just cooler.

Dan looked at Phil, he was studying a group of rings that Dan would totally wear. Dan pointed out a ring he liked. It was a simple silver band. And Dan liked that. It stated the fact that he was married (he was married!) and that was it. It didn't flash the fact, just stated it.

Phil looked at the ring. He didn't make a face, but Dan could tell he didn't like it. Dan looked at one of the rings that Phil was looking at before Dan ruined concretion. The bands were still simple enough, Dan could deal with one of those. He silently pointed to his favorite, knowing that Phil would follow his finger. He watched as Phil evaluated the ring. He looked up at Dan and smiled, nodding his head. Dan smiled back and leaned in to give him a gentle peck on the cheek. Dan found a sales attendant and requested to size the ring and then purchase it. The attendant promised him that she would be back, leaving Phil and Dan alone.

"I still can't believe that we actually did that," Phil said, sounding a little breathless. "I don't regret it, I'm just surprised that we didn't back out, you know?" Dan nodded, wrapping an arm around Phil's waist and drawing him closer. Dan liked that he was only slightly taller than Phil. It was something unique considering how tall Dan is. All of his exes had always been a head or so shorter than him. It didn't bother him loads, but it was nice to finally have someone that was his height. It made him look less awkward as a person, something that desperately needed. Dan was incredibly social awkward except for the rare times that his brain decided he was going be confident, that had happened this morning. The salesperson came back with the rings in their requested sizes. They both slipped the rings onto their appropriate fingers. Dan immediately knew that this was the ring he wanted. He took one look at Phil's face and knew that he agreed.

"We'll take them." Dan said.

* Phil decided he wanted to show Dan his apartment. His thumb was already subconsciously running over the ring on his finger, something he just took notice of. He pulled on Dan's hand, leading him down the narrow London street that lead to his apartment. The street was almost always crowded. The crisp air blew past them as they made their way to his building, ruffling their hair and pushing their jackets slightly open. Phil shivered in response, tightening his ungloved grip on Dan's hand.

They quickly made it into the building, huddling in the lobby for a few seconds to regain some of their lost warmth. Once they were warmer, Dan opened the door to the main building and gestured for him to walk through. Phil was glad that if all the people to spontaneously get married to, he picked one that was sweet and opened doors for him. It was something that made him swoon.

Phil walked over to where the elevators were located, pressing the 'up' button. Dan followed him, resting his head on Phil's shoulder. He was so tired of a sudden. He guessed it was deserved, he did get married today. The overall shock of doing something so reckless clearly take a toll on him. He let his head loll to the side and relax against Dan's. He sighed sleepily as they waited for the elevator to ding. One of Dan's arms came to wrap around his midsection - something Phil realized he really liked. Too soon the elevator dinged and they stepped inside.

They stayed silent as the little box ascended. Their ride was cut short when the doors opened again and someone else got on. Phil gulped as he realized who it was - his mom's best friend. "Oh, Phil!" He smiled politely when she addressed him. "It's been so long since I've seen you! Who is this young gentleman?" She must've noticed how close they were standing, close enough that they probably knew each other. Complete strangers didn't stand that close. Him and Dan were only half strangers.

"Oh, uh, this is Dan. He's my, uh, husband." Dan gave a slight wave as the air in the elevator became tense.

"Oh, I had no idea you were married - or 'swung that way.'" She commented, her smile becoming forced.

"Not many do." Phil summed up, also forcing his smile. One glance at Dan confirmed that everyone was faking their smiles. Phil could literally feel the tension between the three of them.

Finally, the doors opened with a chime. "Well, this is my stop, lovely seeing you Mrs. Stanford!" He reached for Dan's hand and they made their hasty escape. Phil was trying hard not to laugh at the exchange, and by the sound of it, Dan too. Phil patted his pockets for his key, finding it and unlocking the door.

When Dan walked into Phil's apartment he was very impressed. The layout was clearly an open one - the kitchen lead into the living room and then into a hall way where two bedroom doors could be seen. And it was all so clean. Because Dan was a clean freak at the best of times, he cared about these things. Sure, a few things could be dusted or organized better but other than that, it was pretty good. Better than Dan expected. "Your apartment meets all my requirements. You can still see mine if you want but I think this will work better. More space." Dan said, walking over to where Phil was standing in the kitchen, watching him. He liked that Phil was watching him. He liked that a lot.

As Dan walked closer to Phil, he started smiling. Phil returned the smile, grabbing onto his arm and pulling Dan closer to him. Dan ended up leaning against Phil's side and he found himself wondering why he was so affectionate and comfortable with Phil, who was a complete stranger. Dan had never been a person that snuggled up with complete strangers. Every now and then he would have sex with a stranger and end up kind of cuddling them at night, but that was it. He had barely kissed Phil, why was he acting like a middle-schooler who just got a boyfriend for the first time? Dan tried to shove the thoughts out of his brain and focus on the present - Phil - as he was talking. "- we might as well go to your apartment and pick up some of your stuff. I could see your place then and then we could decide where to stay for the month." Dan nodded, pulling away from him and looking around his flat for the last time before they headed out. Phil made his way to the door, taking Dan's coat off the rack and handing it to him.

"You know, a true gentleman would help me put my jacket back on." Dan commented, putting his arms in the sleeves as Phil did the same.

"Guess you married the wrong guy then." Phil said, a smile on his lips as he went against his word and helped Dan shrug on his jacket. Of course he could put his own jacket on, he just liked the closeness that came with it. Dan smiled back, "Yeah, I guess I did." Phil also held the door open for him.

"And here it is," Dan commented, opening the door to where he lived. "Home sweet home." Phil followed him in, taking his coat off and laying it on one of the table's chairs.

"How - no why - is it so clean?" Was the first thing out of Phil's mouth.

"OCD," Dan explained bashfully. "I have to check that everything is off and that everything is in its place. It's annoying, but it's something that I live with. Sorry that I didn't tell you before we signed the contract and got married, I should've told you what you were getting into." Dan sighed.

"Dan, this is just a part of you, I don't consider it something that I should've known after meeting you. You aren't a damaged product or anything, you're a human. I will still grow to love you regardless of you're mental state." By the time Phil finished, Dan was in awe. How on earth did he manage to accidentally marry this man? He found himself wondering the question at least every hour since meeting him, but he was in shock over Phil. He could only felt that Phil felt the same way about him. He kind of needed Phil to feel the same way about him.

"Thank you," Dan whispered to Phil as he properly took in everything that he said. Usually when past boyfriends learned about his OCD they usually either treated him differently or left after a few days, claiming that they just felt it wasn't working out anymore or some other bullshit excuse. Dan had grown used to rejection after reveling his secret. It was almost shocking to find out that Phil didn't considered his mental illness something that made him wrong or sick. "Would you like a tour?" Phil nodded, coming to stand closer to Dan.

Dan led him throughout his apartment, showing him the small place that he called home. It was a little bit smaller than Phil's was, but it was a good size for Dan. It wasn't like he lived with anyone at the moment.

"And this is the bedroom," Dan said, pausing in front of his open door-frame. "It's the cleanest room in the house."

"Not for long." Phil uttered. Dan elbowed him in the side, laughing. "Nice try," He added. "We'll see about that later." Dan was sure he was blushing, he had to be in a certain mindset in order to be suggestive and not turn into a tomato whenever someone implied something sexual. He clearly wasn't in the mentality to be openly flirting with Phil about sex. Try again later.

Dan started to lead him back to his living room, sitting down on his couch and propping his feet on the ottoman positioned right by the couch. "So, do you still want to move in with me?" Phil asks, sitting down besides him and also placing his feet on the ottoman. Dan simply nodded, closing his eyes. He had had a obviously exhausting day with little to no rest, he just needed to close his eyes for a second. He kind of heard Phil talking in the background, but he wasn't paying attention to what he was saying.

The next thing Dan knows, he's waking up with a jolt. He immediately sits straight up, trying to figure out where he is. Okay, he's in his living room, he can tell by the TV and couch. But why was he sleeping on the couch? Wasn't he supposed to be staying over at Phil's? Wait, where was Phil? Dan waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark room, night had clearly fallen. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dark room, he found Phil. He was curled up at the end of the sofa, Dan was surprised he didn't feel his legs. Dan studied him in the light of the moon, finally noticing all the little parts of Phil's face. He was really pretty. He had these great cheekbones that Dan hadn't really taken into depth until now. His hair fell right past his eyebrow. His lips were positioned in a pout of sorts, making him look peaceful as he slept. Dan knew differently though. He had fallen asleep in a similar position one too many times before to know what the morning after felt like. Maybe Phil like kinks in his neck and a constant soreness in his lower back, but Dan figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

He stood up, stretching before taking a hold of Phil's legs and dragging them down to the couch where he had been laying moments before. Phil made a noise in his sleep, something between a groan and a sigh. Dan smiled as he watched Phil shift until he became more comfortable in his newfound space. He figured he should probably get him a blanket. He went to his room and pulled his duvet off his bed. He would be fine with just one of the throw blankets he kept in his room, he didn't know about Phil though. He carried the blanket back to his lounge and preceded to tuck Phil in to the best of his ability.

Finally content with Phil's sleeping arrangements, Dan yawned and then walked sleepily back to his room, crawling into his bed. He fell asleep again within moments of his head hitting his pillow.

When Phil came to, he was confused. It took him a few minutes to remember that he was in Dan's, his new husband, apartment. He sat up groggily, noticing for the first time that there was a blanket on his chest that was definitely not there the night before. And there was a absence of Dan on the couch.

He figured that Dan probably woke up at some point during the night and retreated to his room after making sure Phil would be comfortable as could be while sleeping. He was kind of disappointed by the fact. He wanted to at least sleep in the same bed of their first night of marriage. He probably shouldn't have let Dan fall asleep and then follow in his footsteps.

"Good, you're up. Breakfast?" He jumped at the sudden voice before realizing who it was. He heard a soft chuckle come from behind him. He turned around on the couch, noticing that Dan was standing behind the high counter that separated his kitchen and lounge. "I made eggs."

Phil nodded, yawning and raising his arms above his head. Once he was done, he stood up and walked over to where Dan's table was located. He sat criss-crossed on the chair, yawning once more. Dan brought him a plate full of eggs and bacon. "Thank you," Phil mumbled to Dan, impressed by how good everything looked. He didn't pin Dan as someone who could cook. He shoveled some eggs into his mouth, relishing in how good they tasted. Usually, eggs weren't his favorite. He was just really hungry and Dan makes slightly-better-than-average-eggs. It sounded perfect to his grumbling stomach. In less than 5 minutes, he was all done with his food. Dan simply raised an eyebrow and asked if he wanted more. Phil shook his head. He could only have so much food in the morning.

Once Dan was done with his food as well Phil offered to wash the dishes. He was met with "You know you don't have to do that," from Dan. He replied to it by saying, "No, I really want to," and after more protest from Dan he finally won. "The only way I'm allowing you to do the dishes is if you wear this apron," Dan said, stepping out of the linen closet with an apron unlike any other apron Phil had ever seen in his entire life. It was just a man's body from the shoulders down, but the man was ripped and only wearing a speedo.

"Bring it on." Phil dared. Dan just handed over the article of clothing with a look of amusement clear on his face. Phil tied the apron in the back and set to work on cleaning the dishes. "Do you mind if I take a picture of you?" Phil shook his head at Dan's question. They might as well start taking pictures of each other, especially if they planned to be in each other's lives for a while, which Phil completely did. Phil made a lot of silly faces towards Dan's phone, as well as pretending that he didn't see the phone in some. He was always a person that wanted a million different photos of himself in a million different positions if he was having his picture taken. If you take a bunch of photos in a bunch of different ways at least one of them has to come out semi-good. It was just scientific fact. After a minute or so Dan asked him if he could post a picture or two to his twitter. Phil agreed and finished washing up.

"How does this look?" Dan asked, showing his phone to Phil. It showed two photos of him in the apron, his hands covered in soapy water, washing the dishes. In one of the photos he was pretending to show off his non-existent muscles. In the second one he was simply standing over the sink and seemed very focused on scrubbing the dish clean. He was absorbed by it that his tongue was sticking out at the side of his mouth. He hated when he unconsciously did that but it wasn't like he could make himself quit doing it when he didn't even realize he was doing it. Maybe he could get Dan to tell him when he was doing it so he could work on stopping it. The caption "brainwashed the new guy to do the dishes for me," with a smug emoji. Phil smiled when he read the tweet. He nodded his approval and watched as Dan clicked the tweet button.

He untied the apron and folded it back up, placing it in the closet that he saw Dan get it from.

"Everyone's already asking who you are." Dan claimed from his place on the couch.

"What are you going to tell them?" Phil questioned, walking over to where Dan was situated. He really did prefer his apartment to his own. He felt a bit more at home with Dan at Dan's place instead of his own.

"I don't know yet," Dan sighed. "I feel like I should at least tell my parents before announcing my impromptu marriage to a man on social media."

"I should probably do the same," Phil realized. "I already managed to tell my mother's best friend before her, she probably won't appreciate that."

"Should we spend the morning informing family members?" Dan suggested. "Moral support and all that?" Phil nodded his head, laughing a little a bit. "Who should call who first?" Phil asked, coming to sit by Dan properly on the couch. He sat close enough to him that he could touch him if he wanted to but far enough that it wouldn't seem like he was trying to destroy any concept of personal space between them, something that Phil would never want to purposely do.

"Can I call my mom first?" Dan asked, chewing on his lips.

"Of course." Phil said, relaxing into the couch. Dan followed his example, although Phil could clearly see that he was still very nervous. The phone rang for three rings before she picked up.

"Hey mom?" Dan hesitantly asked.

"Yes, Dan? Is something wrong?" She could totally tell that something was up.

"No, not really. Is dad there? Can you get him and put him on speaker?"

"Of course," She said reassuringly. After disappearing for a half a minute she came back. "Now, what is it, Dan? I can tell something is going on with you."

"Okay, first of all, I'm not into girls. I know you've assumed that for years but I'm just clearing the air. Second, I got married last night."

"You got married? As in legal-document-married?" She questioned. His dad had yet to say anything.

"Yes," He said, rushing to explain. "I just saw this really good-looking guy yesterday morning and we had a conversation and then I said 'let's get married' and he agreed and now we're married. He's really nice, you would like him." He could've explained that better but he was incredibly nervous.

"Dan! Is this a prank?" She sounded skeptical, and honestly, Phil would be too.

"No, I promise you, I'm serious. Do you want to talk to him?" His mom and dad gave various mummers of agreement and all of a sudden Phil was put on the spot to say something intelligent.

"Uh, hi," And he totally failed! Look at him go, failing all over the place! "I'm Phil." Okay, that was slightly better. "You're son is really nice." End him already. Is anyone out there? If anyone is, can you end him? He could literally feel his cheeks heating up.

"You sound nice as well, Phil. Why did you marry my son?" Okay, interrogation. Phil could understand that. It made sense.

"Uh, he's cute and he asked? I kind of wanted to take a risk in life and we get along really well." He responded. Being honest. He locked eyes with Dan as he shook his head, a small smile on his lips. Phil gave him a smile in return, nearly shivering at how intimate the exchange seemed. Why was Dan so different from every single person he had ever dated? Why wasn't Phil freaking out over the fact that he actually married a stranger? "Honestly, he's so different from anyone I've ever been interested in. There's just something different about him that I can't place. I think I'm going to fall in love with him." His eyes remained on Dan's the entire time, watching every reaction to his confession. Dan's eyes had softened and then widened dramatically when he confessed that he was pretty sure he was going to fall in love.

She sighed. "Dan, out of all the strangers that you could have picked, I think you picked a good one. I like him. But, you still made a stupid decision. I hope it doesn't backfire on you. I wish you two the best of luck," She took a deep breath. "Now, if you don't mind, me and your father were in the middle of something."

"Ew, mom!" Dan screamed, face screwing up in disgust. Phil tried not to laugh or aw at how cute Dan looked. "Bye, love you!" He hung up, his parents' laughter being cut off abruptly.

"Did you really mean that?" Phil's eyes found Dan's. His voice sounded so uncertain that it made Phil's heart ache. Did he not believe that it was possible for somebody to love him? Was that such a strange concept to him?

"I meant every word," Phil said earnestly. "You're really cute and lovable. I intend to take full advantage of both of those things in the most consensual way possible."

"What does that even mean?" Dan gave a watery laugh and Phil could see that his eyes were indeed watery.

"I intend to grow to love you in the best way I can. And to stare at your face as often as possible because damn, have you seen your face? But I will only do those two things with your consent. Do I have it?"

"Yes," Dan said quietly, leaning over towards Phil and closing the small gap between them. "Do I have your consent to inevitably fall head over heels in love with you someday and sometimes think some dirty thoughts about you?"

Phil's chest vibrated with laughter against Dan's as he pulled him closer into his arms. "You have a hundred percent of my consent," He giggled. "Hey, that rhymed!"

"Shut up, you dork." His tone of voice suggested that he meant the exact opposite.

Phil's feet were currently resting in Dan's lap as he made the last of the calls to his close family and friends. Phil was still there "for moral support" according to Dan. Phil took pride in knowing that he just wanted him there so that they could hang out. At least he was well-liked by his husband. They had agreed that they would finish calling all of Dan's friends and extended family and then they would call for some take out. Phil had convinced Dan to let him show him his favorite show - Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Dan had agreed to watching an episode while they took a break and ate. Phil counted that as a victory.

Phil was scrolling through twitter and could hear Dan finishing up a conversation with the last person he had to call. He could feel Dan half-massaging one of his feet which consisted of him kind of squeezing his foot and then letting it go. It was kind of funny how he was just subconsciously playing with Phil's feet. He decided to pull out his phone and take a picture, posting it to his twitter account. He knew that a lot of his fans of his books (which he had been neglecting in the past 24 hours, getting married counted as a valid reason to not write) followed his twitter account so he knew there would be the usual questions of "WHO IS THAT" and the likes, but a good portion of his family didn't follow it so he didn't have to worry about them finding out and being shocked. Dan had a plan to respond to some of his twitter followers after he called his family members. Was Phil even following Dan on twitter? He looked him up and quickly found his profile, scanning through the tweets and laughing at a lot of them. He hadn't realized how funny Dan really was. Of course he knew he was a funny person - he had spent a whole day in his presence - but he didn't realize the capacity of Dan's humor. There was a lot of sarcasm about politics but also a lot of stories that had happened to him.

He stumbled across a tweet that read "just had a girl ask me out and I responded with 'uh, sorry, i'm not into you,' which i followed up with a 'it's not you it's the fact that you're a girl.' i am doomed to be single and forever alone." Phil found himself properly laughing out loud. "What?" Dan asked, amusement in his voice, clearly about to laugh himself. So, Dan was one of those people that laughed even if he didn't even know what the other person was laughing at? That was something that Phil found adorable. He passed his phone to him, watching as his face turned rosy. "I can't believe that you scrolled to five months ago on my twitter," Dan said, laughing a little. "That's a lot of shit to scroll through." Phil shrugged as Dan handed his phone back, blushing a little when he realized that he had went so far back. "You're tweets are interesting," Phil explained. "Plus, I am now married to you, I need to know what I am getting myself into, twitter is a good way to do that."

Dan snorted. "Just don't find my website from when I was twelve and we'll be good."

"You had a website?" Phil exclaimed. "You have to show me!"

"No," Dan groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "I shouldn't have even mentioned it."

"Fine," Phil decided. "I'll have to get it out of you sooner or later. You picked the hard way."

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Dan muttered, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Let's order some food!" Phil said, standing up and extending his arm towards Dan. "Also, I like your apartment a lot. I would prefer if we could stay here instead of my place. I just feel like it suits us better."

"Sure," Dan agreed, shrugged. "Whatever makes you more comfortable. Do you want to pick up some of your stuff later today?" Phil nodded, scanning the menus that Dan had stuck on his fridge.

"Does Chinese sound okay to you?" Phil asked, picking up his phone and unlocking it. Dan nodded, pointing to where he circled his usual meal on the menu. Phil gave him a thumbs up as a lady picked up.

Phil had decided to borrow clothes from Dan another day and night before finally heading back to his apartment to grab his clothes and everything else he needed. He also needed to water his house plants and take his smallest catus with him.

Dan had asked him if he wanted him to go along, but Phil was fine with going by himself. He's positive that they could be use the hour and a half of separation from each other - no matter how well they were getting along.

That was the thing - they were getting along super well. It was kind of weird how well they worked together. Phil hardly ever found himself annoyed at Dan in the past forty-eight hours of marriage. That could be considered strange. How many strangers do you spend two days with and not get super annoyed and pissed with? None? Phil couldn't remember a time in his life when that had ever happened.

Another strange thing was how close he already considered himself to Dan. He didn't really think of him as a complete stranger anymore. He was more of an acquaintance Phil knows how quick he is to adapt to new situations - he's been on a book tour and all - but even this was a little out there for him.

He obviously didn't know how Dan felt about him, but he could assume that he could assume that he didn't hate him. He hadn't forcefully removed him from his apartment or cussed him out yet - that had to be a good sign. Phil felt comfortable coming to the conclusion that Dan did not hate him at this moment. Of course, he was annoying and that could change.

He breathed in the cool London air, exhaling and watching the way the breath fogged before disappearing into nothing with the rest of the air. He was a human, who was living and making air. It was kind of crazy. He exhaled again, watching the breaths disappear into the air. He was alive. Why did he take it for granted so often?

Phil eventually made him way to his apartment, unlocking the door and smelling the familiar and comforting scent of his apartment. As much as he enjoyed Dan's place, he missed his own home.

He set his keys, phone, and wallet down on the counter, getting to work on packing up the much needed items. He could come back if he forgot something, but he wanted the full immersion experience. To get that experience he would have to stay away from his flat as much as possible.

He really wanted things to work with Dan.

Dan was having his me-time. It was something that he was used to having almost all the time that he was home. He rarely had anyone over and it's not like he lived with anyone - it was the perfect recipe for isolation and depressing thoughts.

At the current moment, he was trying to figure out how he felt about Phil. They had spent the past two days - give or take a few hours - together and Dan hadn't wanted to die the whole time - which was pretty impressive if he did say so himself.

Dan didn't hate people by any means, in fact he was a rather outgoing person and enjoyed the company of other humans. But like a normal person, he also enjoyed solitude. He hadn't had much solitude the past day or so, but he hadn't minded one bit.

He laid on the couch on his back - legs crossed, arms laying by his side, and eyes closed. This was the best way for him to think. He had found the trick quite helpful when writing his novel and got stuck with world building or character development or trying to figure out exactly how hetero-normative he needed it to be so that it could still sell. He came to this couch and this thinking position when he needed the most relaxed form of thinking. And boy, was he thinking.

He was outweighing the pros and cons of this whole marriage thing. As of that moment, there were so many pros and so many cons, and it didn't make sense.

Dan is a pessimist. He's proud of the fact and he admits to it. He's a realistic person and due to how depressing the world is, he is a pessimist. It's just the way the cookie crumbles. It was alarming to Dan he hardly had any cons of Phil. Sure, he got annoying every now and then - and yes, the whole obsession with his cereal thing was a tad bit concerning - but really, why did Dan not want to slit his throat?

They had been in the same room at almost all times. If he tried to do that with his own mother he probably would've died right then and there, and he loves his mother.

Dan thought and thought, trying to warn himself about getting too invested something to quickly, about how hurt he was going to get, how his heart was probably going to end up broken and scattered into a million pieces all over the ground. About how he should care about those things more.

He hadn't ever felt something like that.

It was terrifying.

"Honey, I'm home!" Phil announced, carrying a small suitcase and a carry on through the door.

"You can't use that phrase, Barry B. Benson made it illegal for humans." Dan retorted in a dry voice from the couch.

"Really?" Phil pouted, dropping his carry on onto the doorway of Dan's apartment. He then kicked off his shoes before traipsing over to where Dan laid half-asleep on the couch. Phil took one look at him before crawling onto the narrow couch with him. Dan's eyes shot open, alarmed, before realizing it was just Phil. He relaxed back into the couch, readjusting his arm so it became positioned on Phil's back. Phil hummed, head finding Dan's chest easily. Phil rested his head in the crook of Dan's shoulder, easily relaxing into Dan's arms. They cuddled well - clearly they were meant to fall in love. It was basically a sign from the universe.

Phil kind of wanted to talk about moving in with Dan for the first month of their marriage. He figured that now would be as good of a time as ever - he might as well bring it up.

"Hey, Dan," Phil prompted. "I was kind of thinking about where we should live for the trial month of our marriage."

"'Trial month?'" Dan quoted, smiling a little.

"I mean, that kind of is what we are doing," Phil reasoned. "You know, give us your credit card information and get a free 30-day trial. Decide if you like it or not."

"So I'm Netflix to you?" Dan mused. Phil couldn't see his face but he was sure he was smirking.

"I'm in love with Netflix, so that should be a compliment to you." Phil said, giggling a little as Dan himself broke down into giggles.

"Now you're in love with me," Dan rolled his eyes. "What is the truth?"

"Don't pull that meme on me." Phil shot back.

"Wow," Dan commented. "Mr. Sassy. Anyways, what about where we should live? We kind of got off topic."

"Oh!" Phil exclaimed, remembering why he wanted to talk in the first. "I was thinking of moving in with you."

"We've known each other for two and a half days," Dan dead-panned. "Clingy."

"We're married." Phil retorted.

"Fair point," Dan said. "I guess you can move in." He fake sighed.

"You're so mean to me." Phil said.

"My mom was always insistent on telling my sister that boys were mean to her because they liked her." Dan said jokingly.

"That's sexism and an odd way of telling me you like me." Phil responded.

"Meh." Dan summed up, closing his eyes and pulling Phil closer. Phil hummed appreciatively.

"We haven't slept in the same bed yet," Phil said out of the blue. The two of them had decided to return to their writing. They were both authors after all. Dan was sitting at one end of the couch, Phil at the other. They were both typing away on their respective laptops (they had matching ones?), equally dedicated to their own stories. "Isn't that kind of weird?"

Dan shrugged. "You kept insisting on the couch and passing out because I could convince you to sleep with me. You're welcome."

"That sounds so weird," Phil comment, stopping his writing for a minute. "Like, 'You're welcome in my bed,' that sounds a little creepy, right?"

"You don't have to drag me like this, Phil." Dan said, rolling his eyes. He continued to type, briefly stopping to edit something with his mouse-pad. Phil scooted closer to Dan, laptop abandoned on the cushion where he had just been sitting.

"Are you being serious though?" Phil asked in a quiet voice. Dan looked away from his computer screen, looking over Phil. His eyes were staring at Dan's chest, something that Phil rarely did. Whenever he talked to you, he would always look directly at you, never anywhere else. Dan guessed that he was probably nervous, afraid to overstep his boundaries. Dan's eyes softened, his hand coming to rest on top of Phil's.

"Of course," Dan said. He tried to make Phil much more trusting of him, he wanted him to know that he was being one hundred percent serious. "Want to take nap?" Phil looked up, eyes connecting with his and a small smile present on his face.

"Sure."

Dan picked-up his laptop and placed it on the coffee table. He clasped Phil's hand tighter and stood up, practically dragging Phil up with him. He started down the hall, Phil trailing after Dan. "I kind of feel like you're leading me away to have sex with you or something."

"That could be arranged." Dan said, looking back at Phil just in time to see his face flush red.

"Maybe another time." Phil muttered, tightening his grip on his hand. Dan laughed, opening the door to his room.

Dan let go of Phil's hand, walking to one side of the bed. Phil got the idea and walked to the other side, climbing into the bed and under the covers. Dan did the same, finding Phil's hand under the blankets. They both laid down, heads supported by soft pillows. The room was lit with a soft glow of sun from the late evening sky. Dan moved closer to Phil, his arm snaking around his waist and pulling his back to his chest. Dan closed his eyes, allowing sleep to over take his conscious.

The next day Phil had awkwardly followed Dan to his room in the evening. Dan's eyes had lit up in amusement as he realized how nervous Phil still was. He climbed into the bed before kicking off his pants and waited for Phil to follow.

"I can still sleep in here, right?" Dan laughed.

"Of course you can, silly," Dan said as he pulled down the covers on the side where he wasn't laying, an open invite to Phil. "I won't bite."

"Somehow I find that to be an untrue statement." Phil retorted as he got in and pulled the covers over his legs. Dan giggled, glad that Phil was warming up. He knew that they had spent the afternoon yesterday sleeping in the same bed but it still felt more like a special occasion than a normal thing to happen between them. Dan understood why Phil was hesitating and he was kind of glad he was on some level - Phil was so scared to possibly cross some boundary between the two of them. It was really sweet how much he respected Dan and didn't want to accidentally make him uncomfortable.

"Okay, let me rephrase that," Dan clarified, relaxing into the pillow propped up against his headboard. He noticed Phil did the same thing. He smiled, glad that he was slowly becoming more comfortable. "At this moment I will not bite you."

"That sounds more like the Dan I know." Phil claimed. Dan chuckled, glad that Phil had picked up on his personality in the short time that they had known each other. Dan settled on winking at him before asking Phil if he could turn the lamp off. After getting Phil's approval, he turned the light off and the room was plunged into darkness. The only light came from the moon outside that shone through the curtain.

Dan felt Phil readjust so that he was laying down and followed, getting comfortable.

"This may be weird, but could we maybe cuddle?" Phil spoke into the empty darkness. Dan smiled as his heart clenched in endearment for this man. How could someone be so grown yet so adorable? Dan was constantly baffled.

"Sure." Dan said, not sure who should make the first move. He didn't have to wait long for Phil to come closer to him in the dark and settle next to him. He wouldn't really call it cuddling though, just laying close to each other. Dan could distantly remember doing this with his old best friend when he was in his preteens, suddenly realizing that they probably hadn't been as platonic as they though they had been. Dan pushed the thought out of his head and timidly tangled their legs together. He waited for Phil to stop him, but nothing came. Dan was aware that both of them had started to take more shallow breaths.

Dan inched his head closer to the edge of his pillow, his torso becoming closer to Phil's through the action. Phil copied his movements. Soon, they were only inches apart.

He kind of wanted to kiss Phil in that moment. They hadn't kissed since they got married and for some reason it didn't feel appropriate to do it at that moment. Dan vowed to himself that he would kiss Phil at the best possible moment that he could. Maybe it would be the one vow he wouldn't break that concerned Phil.

A week had passed. They were nine days into this whole marriage thing and Phil would have to say that it was going really well. Because the both of them technically worked from him they spent their days either lounging around in Dan's apartment or at their favorite coffee shops with free wi-fi. They found that they made a wonderful cooking duo. They were both pretty bad at cooking but when they cooked together they balanced each other out - this resulted in semi-good meals.

They hadn't snapped at each other yet. Of course, they had had their little arguments, but not a huge fight that ended in shouting and crying. Phil was surprised that they had gone this long without yelling. He only lasted a week of being in his dorm-mate's presence before breaking down and screaming at him. Yeah, that wasn't one of his proudest moments.

Phil figured he should just continue to not worry about the whole not-fighting thing. Most couples worry about the opposite - really, he should be thankful.

Phil looked up from the book he was reading to see that Dan was in the kitchen, his hips swaying to the music that Phil couldn't hear in his earbuds. Phil had found out this was something Dan regularly did. It was cute. Really cute, and it always put a smile on Phil's face. The first time Phil caught Dan doing it was a few days ago. He had blushed but continued to do his little dance and mouth along to the lyrics only he could hear. Since then, Phil saw the display at least once a day. He had started to figure out that he would always do that when he got stuck with his novel.

Phil started to smell something good coming from the kitchen. Only a minute or so later Dan brought him a bowl of popcorn. Phil smiled gratefully, popping one into his mouth. Dan walked back to his table, sitting down at his laptop and glaring at the screen. Dan's creative process was always something interesting to watch. First, he would glare at his computer. His eyes would get all squinty and he would just stare down the screen like it had just committed murder or something equally terrible. Then he would huff really loudly and do something on his phone, usually check his twitter or tumblr feed (Phil had found out that those were his personal favorites). After he was done scrolling to his heart's content his eyes would return to the computer, glaring once more. He would hesitantly type a few words and then hit the backspace key with anger and an glare. Once he deleted enough of his writing he would swiftly stand up, put in his earbuds, and clean. Yes, Dan Howell was a stress cleaner.

Phil had never seen anything like it. The man would wipe every surface down twice and scrub until the sponge was gone. It really explained why the place was so clean - Dan was in his element when everything around him was as pristine as could be. Phil thought it was amusing to watch.

As soon as everything was clean in their - his - apartment, Dan would sit down and attempt to write yet again. He would get as far as a paragraph or two in before he would once again sigh and stand up. This time though, he would mouth along to lyrics and make food, his hips going back and forth as he spread Nutella on a piece of bread. Phil loved it.

And that's what Phil was doing now - eating popcorn and reading, occasionally peeking over the top of his book pages to watch Dan come up with the next best-selling book.

It was kind of a behind-the-scenes experience that he hadn't ever seen before.

The sun shining and Dan was groaning as the alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning. He could kind of hear Phil whining in the background as well. Dan slammed his hand on the top of the offending object hoping to shut it off. It finally did and he turned on his side, humming contently as the room was replaced with quiet. He subconsciously reached for Phil's torso, latching his arm around his waist and pulling him closer. Phil sighed in his sleep, his arms finding a place by Dan's waist as well. Dan didn't want to move, even though he knew the alarm would go off again in less than five minutes. Plus, they did have some place to be for once. Louise was having a birthday lunch and insisted that Dan bring his husband for brunch so they could get to know each other better. Phil had enthusiastically agreed and they made arrangements for Saturday at ten o'clock. It was Saturday, nine o'clock. They really needed to get a move on. Dan dealt with the procrastination by pulling his husband closer, burying his head into the pillow.

Dan liked marriage. It suited him and he suited it. Or maybe him and Phil just worked really well together. It was easier for Dan to write with Phil around, it was easier for him to sleep and it was easier to smile with him in the house. Dan enjoyed all those benefits.

The only problem was a thought in the back of his head that wouldn't go away. What would happen when the month was over? Sure, they got along well and Dan enjoyed Phil's company and vice versa, but the foundations of a strong marriage certainly didn't last on liking each other. Maybe Dan just needed to have more blind faith in his life but he never did well in that area, just ask his severely religious grandmother. He had just always been a logical person - not a pessimist - a person who didn't overlook the negativity that was present in the world. It wasn't really a flaw but it wasn't a blessing either.

The blaring sounds of the clock rang through their apartment. Wait, their? Since when had his apartment become Phil's too? His thoughts were interrupted by Phil angrily sitting up and glaring at the offending machine. Dan laughed softly, taking notice of how Phil was now sitting on him, it was basically straddling. He used this to his advantage as he reached over to turn on the alarm for the sixth time. He reclined further into the bed, Phil as well. Dan saw a lazy smile on his lips as he sunk onto his chest. He rested his head in the crook of his shoulder - Dan had realized that this was his go to position - arms tucked between their chests. Dan's hand found their way to Phil's back, stroking circles on top on the fabric of his shirt.

Ever since the cuddled on the first night that they properly spent together touching had became a lot more easy between the time of them. Dan had discovered that Phil was naturally a very physically affectionate person, which essentially meant that he was really cuddly. Dan liked it.

They laid there until the clock made its presence known yet again. Phil groaned into Dan's neck before pulling back and sitting up, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. Dan's hands moved to play with the hem of his shirt. Phil smiled down at him, playing with his hair for a second before clambering off of Dan and turning the alarm off for good.

"You should leave your hair curly today, I like it." Phil said as he was stretching. His voice was scratchy with sleep and hoarse. Dan decided that he was obsessed with it.

"Fine," Dan decided. "But you have to wear your glasses." The first moment that Dan had seen Phil with glasses he concluded that he fell slightly more for him. Ever since then he had begged, tricked, and bribed Phil to wear his glasses during the day. He was resistant to all attempts of bribes and saw right through the tricks, even ignoring Dan's pleads for the glasses. Dan was smug with victory as he climbed out of bed. Of course, he had realized that Phil was just doing it to mess with Dan, but he didn't care at that point. As far as he was concerned, he had won.

Forty-five minutes later had Dan and Phil scrambling out of the apartment building and to the nearest bus stop to meet Louise for lunch. Phil was wearing his favorite button down and skinny jeans. Dan was wearing an all-black ensemble, complete with a black coat. Phil figured that he was probably trying to make a statement of some sort. He had realized that most of the things that Dan did tended to be because he wanted to rebel against society in some small way. He tended to be dramatic to the point that it just amused Phil. At least he cared enough to be extremely passionate about so many movements.

They quickly hailed a taxi and clambered into it. As of that moment, they were officially late. Dan assured him that Louise would understand and was probably running late as well. That helped calmed him down just the tiniest bit - he was nervous. He had already met Louise and she was incredibly kind and seemed like a person he would easily get along with, he was just afraid that she wouldn't like him as a person. He was quirky and a little all over the place - many described him as childish. While this was usually good, sometimes it would backfire all over the place. He really didn't want it to backfire.

The cab pulled up to where they were going to met Louise. Dan quickly paid the driver and then came to stand behind Dan, placing a hand above his hip. Phil easily leaned in closer to him for a split second before they entered into the small diner. They spotted Louise fairly quickly and moved to sit down at her table.

"Ah, it's my best friend and his husband!" She said excitedly, clapping her hands. Her hair was pulled back in a braid and her make-up was expertly done. Her outfit consisted of jeans and a soft purple top. It was simple but still worked well for her. "It's so good to see you two."

"I've missed you, too," Dan said, smiling. "Sorry I haven't picked up that many shifts lately, this guy-" he sticks a thumb in Phil's direction "- has been keeping me at home."

"Don't blame me for your laziness, that's not healthy." He responded. Louise laughed, taking a sip of coffee.

"By the way, I got you both coffee, I hope that's okay?" She directed the question at Phil who eagerly nodded.

"He lives on coffee, it's concerning," Dan said as Phil drank from his mug. "I'll wake up and he will just be in the kitchen with his face hovering above the mug as he waits for it to cool down. It's the weirdest thing."

"Okay, I like how warm the steam is from the mug. It calms me," Phil said, defending his honor. "You can't blame me for liking artificial warmth. You should try it sometime." Louise just looked amused as she glanced between the two of them.

"Try what, artificial warmth or sticking a cup of coffee under my face in a desperate attempt to feel loved?" Dan voiced.

"Both." Phil deadpanned, finally giving in and chuckling. Dan and Louise soon joined in.

The brunch lasted for about an hour or so. It ended when Louise had to leave to get ready for her official birthday party. Since neither of them were huge into social parties and Dan only knew half of Louise's friends (at best) they had decided not to go, hence the brunch.

Dan felt like it had gone well - Louise clearly liked Phil and it seemed that Phil felt the same. It was refreshing for Dan to know that his husband and best friend liked each other.

They were walking back from the restaurant, both equally lost in thought. Dan was daydreaming about a fight scene that he wanted to add into his newest book and Phil was probably thinking about puppies or something along those likes. Dan didn't realize how wrong he had been about the assumption until Phil spoke.

"I still haven't told my mom yet, you know, about us." Phil said, eyes focused on something in the distance. He was kind of spaced out. It felt like a spaced-out type of day.

"Should we call her?" Dan asked. He only realized after he said the sentence that he automatically assumed they would be doing it together. That was good on some level, right?

Phil shrugged, his hand bumping into Dan's. Dan took a hold of his hand, clasping it gently and swinging it back and forth between them. He like how easy things were with Phil. They just kind of let things take their course when it came to their relationship, and it kind of worked. Granted, they haven't had sex yet which was probably a fail in some peoples' books but oh well, it was working for the time being. He didn't want to rush into it and ruin things. That was probably the last thing he wanted to do.

"Do you think we could have them over for dinner?" Phil asked quietly, breaking the silence Dan had gotten them into. Dan nodded, squeezing his hand.

They arrived back at the apartment building. Not his apartment building, not their apartment building, just the apartment building. He didn't want to include or segregate Phil too heavily from his life on purpose. He just wanted the apartment to be both of theirs while not being too confining at the same time. Sometimes, Dan thought a little bit too much for his own good. It was always helpful in English class though.

When they got to the flat Dan busied himself in the kitchen by tidying things up and Phil texted his mom, inviting her and his dad to dinner sometime in the next week. They were writers so they had a flexible schedule, something people often confused with doing nothing during the day. They did do stuff, it was called staring at a computer screen and hoping words come out. It was kind of aggravating, to be honest.

"My mom said that her and dad can come on Monday night, would that work? They think you're just a friend, by the way. I'm going to break the news to them slowly." Phil leaned against the counter-top, typing on his phone.

"Yeah, that should work. What time?" Dan moved to stand next to Phil, bumping shoulders with him.

"Six-ish?"

"Mkay," Dan decided. "Now scoot, I have yet to clean that counter-top and I will not let you stand in my way." Phil laughed, moving to the other side of the kitchen.

Monday night came quicker than anticipated and both of the boys rushed to get the flat as clean as possible. Dan, of course, did most of the cleaning but Phil had helped. Dan insisted on making a chicken and pasta dish and Phil allowed him to, knowing that his parents would love it. It was kind of cute to see Dan fussing over little details, he was so intent on making sure that they his parents would like him. It was endearing.

Phil was still trying to figure out how to break the news to them. He probably wouldn't be proud of his kid running off and marrying a random person they met. But he still had made life choices and all actions have equal and opposite reactions. He was just dealing with it.

He couldn't get too caught up in his thoughts because just then, the doorbell rang. He quickly yelled "I'll get it!" before rushing down the stairs and flinging open the door. There stood his parents, the people that had supported him through almost everything, save for the emo phase he had back when he was 15 or so.

"Mom, Dad! I'm so glad to see you!" He exclaimed, quickly pulling them into the warm atmosphere of Dan's flat, but also kind of his flat.

As he pulled them in, he finally took notice of the other couple standing behind them. His brother and wife. Phil stiffened slightly. He loved his brother, really, but he used to relentlessly tease Phil about his sexuality and almost anything he did, which got really annoying really quickly. He wouldn't go as far to say that all of Martyn's teasing led him to repressing a lot of his character for so long, but he was defiantly a factor in Phil taking so long to realize his whole personality. He moved out for college and had finally allowed himself to be who he wanted to be - it was really eye-opening.

It wasn't that Phil didn't want his brother here - he was just worried about how everything would play out. He absentmindedly rubbed at his temples at the thought of how dinner might progress.

"Dan, my family is here," He said, giving Dan a brief warning before his family followed him into the now-smaller kitchen. "My brother and his wife also came, do we have enough food?" If Phil was a stranger, he wouldn't have been able to see the disguised shock that slowly made its way across Dan's face. He was still very composed, but Phil could see through it.

"I think we should have enough." Dan decided, stirring the pot once again. Phil decided to believe and not to stress about something he didn't have any control. He quickly showed his parents, brother, and sister-in-law to the table where the would be eating. He disappeared back into the kitchen, leaning closely to him but not touching him. He was aware that his family could still see them and he didn't want to freak them out five minutes into dinner.

Dan scooped food onto plates while Phil carried them to the table, placing in front of his family members. Once there was a plate for everyone and they had both sat down, they started dinner, officially.

"Phil, isn't that your laptop?" Martyn said, not even five minutes after they started eating. "Why are we meeting at this guy's house anyway, no offense to you, but we usually meet at your apartment, not at your friend's."

Phil placed his fork on the table, realizing he might have to tell them sooner rather than later. "One, that guy's name is Dan," Dan waved. "Two, we're actually living together right now."

"Did something happen to your apartment?" His mother asked in a worried tone.

"No," Phil answered. "We just like living together. We don't know if it's permanent yet."

"Phil, I only see one door down that hallway and I know for a fact that the bathroom is by the front door," His mom responded. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Plus, Dan's married, how does that even work?"

Dan's eyes widened as he quickly looked to his ring finger. Phil followed his gaze, noticing the ring on his finger. "Shit." He said quietly, still looking at his finger. Phil's hand that would have his ring was under the table. He rubbed his thumb across his ring finer noticing that yes, he had forgotten to take his ring off as well. Phil placed his hand with the ring on the table, watching as his dad took notice of it.

"Son, that looks a lot like-"

"We got married," Phil confessed. "We sleep in the same room, to answer your implication, mom."

"Why didn't you tell us? How long have you seeing each other?"

"We've known of each other for almost a month."

"Dude!" Martyn exclaimed, his face showing his amused shock. "You can't be serious." Phil nodded and intertwined his and Dan's hands, where everyone could see.

Cornelia - his sister-in-law - spoke up. "I think it's sweet in a way. You clearly don't know each other super well, it's a way to fall in love with someone in a different way."

"Thanks." Dan said, breaking his silence on the subject of their marriage. His mom and dad still hadn't said anything, leaving him to wonder what their thoughts were.

"Well, Dan is very nice. If this is something you want to do, then who am I to hold you back from it?" His mom said. His dad nodded in agreement and Phil allowed himself to relax slightly in his chair. "Well, should we eat?" Everyone laughed in some way and dug into their delicious meal.

"And so ever since that day I have been horrified of electrical outlets. Ever since Phil moved in I've just had him plug in all my stuff."

His mom was giggling, his dad had a smile on his face, and the rest of the group were all laughing. Dan knew how to tell stories, especially about his childhood. He was really winning Phil's family over, they basically loved him. Now he just needed to fall in complete love with him (which he was already doing) and Dan do the same. Life seemed simple, fall in love with someone and have them fall in love with you back. He knew it was harder than it that, but he liked to live in a world where it was that simple. If you pretended something was simple, was it not simple on some level?

Dan was sitting with his legs folded under a blanket on the couch. His hair was starting to curl, which only was a style he wore when he was stressed or at the end of the day. His cheeks were slightly rosy from having the main focus on him and laughing. Phil liked giddy, giggly Dan. He was adorable on a whole new level.

Phil snuck another look in Dan's direction, catching his eye. Dan smiled at him and Phil didn't hesitate to smile widely back.

Dan woke up to the smell of something burning, which is never something good to wake up. After sitting straight up in bed and assessing that no, his apartment was not on fire, he regretfully crawled out of bed. He noticed Phil's absence in bed, something that was as rare as the slight burning smell.

Dan stumbled down the short hallway and into the kitchen where he found Phil behind the tall counter that separated the kitchen from the lounge. He was wearing the infamous apron again and from the looks of it, he was trying to make pancakes. His face brightened considerably when he saw Dan, not that Dan knew why. He probably looked like he just got run over by a truck. A big, large, truck. He hadn't been sleeping too well lately and it clearly reflected on his appearance.

"Happy National Pancake Day!" Phil said happily, trying to flip a pancake. He succeeded, surprising both himself and Dan.

"I didn't realize you were one of those dorks that celebrated unofficial holidays." Dan said with amused smile on his face.

"Okay, one, I'm a dork so you should have just assumed," Phil started. "Two, everyone celebrates pancake day. It's pancakes." He said it like it was obvious that everyone and their mom and their grandmother celebrated the day.

"So I should have assumed, that's fair. How do we celebrate such an amazing day, then?" Dan rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and totally missed the way that Phil had softened while looking at him.

"First, we eat as many pancakes as we possibly can. We have to feel like we're about to explode before we can stop," Dan snorted slightly, shaking his head at Phil's theatrics. "Then, we lie around and possibly write more in our books for the rest of the day."

"Agh, Phil, that's not fair. You know I have writer's block right now." Dan complained.

"I'll help you through it, don't worry. We have to be productive, it's pancake day."

"How on earth does pancake day relate to being productive? I would've thought it would be the opposite." Dan argued.

"They both start with P, duh." Phil poured another pancake into the pan after placing one in front of Dan.

"Forgive me, oh smart one," Dan said sarcastically. "I didn't realize that two things starting with the same letter meant that they were automatically related." Phil giggled, amused at how fast he seemed to get Dan riled up after something so simple. Dan dropped his facade and started giggling along too. Soon, the two of them were laughing at the silly conversation.

Pancake morning ended covered in syrup and giggles ringing through the apartment as they tried to clean up the sticky substance off every surface. Dan had no clue how it had gotten everywhere, but it had.

The afternoon was spent in bed, laptops slightly burning skin as they both worked hard on their novels. It was nice being married to someone who understood the creative process of writing. It made things a ton easier when he needed to write. Phil got it, and he usually joined him when he could.

With stomachs stuffed and laughs flowing easy, Dan finally beat his writer's block and wrote one of the best chapters in the book.

It was almost the end of the third week, which meant it had almost been a month since they got married. Life was easy and simple but never plain. Phil could feel himself falling in love with Dan, he knew it. He could only hope that Dan felt the same way.

He knew that at some point they would have to sit down and talk about what they wanted to do. Phil was all for stay married, and probably for continuing to live together. He hadn't really discussed it with Dan, he didn't know what he wanted.

Dan was supposedly on a walk, which Phil didn't believe for a second, so he quickly texted him, asking if they could talk over dinner tonight. Dan suggested going out to eat at a place where they wouldn't have to reserve a table. Phil agreed and returned to cleaning the kitchen, something that always made Dan super happy to come home to.

A few hours later, they were both climbing into a uber. Dan was looking good - when didn't he? - but he look especially good right now. Phil was constantly amazed by how effortlessly beautiful Dan was. He was kind of in awe of it.

They arrived, Phil held the door open for Dan, which made him blush. It was cute. They were led to a table and sat down. He figured they should talk about whether or not they wanted to stay married or not. Phil was leaning towards staying married. He could see them being happy and maybe starting a family later in life, a subject that they hadn't really talked about too much.

"Thanks for agreeing to have to dinner with me tonight." Phil said, catching Dan's attention. He had been staring off into the distance, something he would usually do without noticing.

"Now I feel like we're on a reality TV show, more than usual." Dan commented, making Phil chuckle.

They ordered and got their drinks and now they had probably fifteen to twenty minutes until they were interrupted. Phil figured that it would be a quick discussion, they both seemed pretty happy with where the relationship was going, why should they break-up?

"So, I figured we could talk about what to do about our marital status. Do you want to get a divorce or not?" Phil asked, feeling kind of nervous. What would happen if Dan didn't agree? Sure, it probably would be the end of the world but Phil would definitely be upset.

"Sure," Dan replied. "What do you think we should do?" Phil saw what he was trying to do. He wasn't going to admit what he wanted - he didn't want to accidentally pressure Dan into agreeing with him. As much as Dan was a loud and opinionated person, he was also a very polite person who really cared about how his actions affected other people. Phil knew that whatever he said would have an effect on what Dan said.

"I asked the question, you answer it," Phil said, trying to make it not sound like he was ordering Dan to do something. Thankfully, he was successful.

"I don't know, honestly," Maybe Phil should have said something. Dan might have made up his mind and they could stay married. "I see a lot of positives and negatives."

"Like?" Phil urged him to continue.

"Like you're a great person and I really enjoy spending time with you, Phil. I do have feelings for you, like a lot of feelings, but we've only known each other for a month." Phil figured that was fair. They had only known each other for a month. He would love to trick himself into believing that that was a long enough time to make the decision.

"How about we wait? Give it another two weeks?" Phil suggested warmly, staring at Dan across the table.

"Yeah, I don't want to divorce you quite yet." Dan teased, smiling at Phil.

"Give it another month, you just might change your opinion." Phil said. Dan laughed, cheeks flushing as the night went on. Phil felt warm.

The next morning turned into afternoon and then into evening. Phil worked progressively on his novel while Dan kept him company by watching Netflix on his laptop in bed with him. He claimed "that any person that works on a novel for most of the day without another person doing shit with them will go insane." So Phil let Dan watch most of a season of Doctor Who with him.

It was relaxing and easy and Phil loved it. If he was Dan he would claim it was his aesthetic. Laying in bed with him for almost the entire bed while they lazily did things things they enjoyed with each other made him really happy. He hoped it wouldn't come to an end.

They lived with each other so easily and Phil could feel himself falling for Dan. He never felt this strongly for anyone, especially this quickly in the relationship.

"Let's go shopping." Dan said as he crawled into the bed where Phil was still (slowly) waking up. Something he loved to do was crawl into bed with Phil. Ever since they started to share a bed regularly he found himself cuddling with Phil as he woke up. He usually laid in bed for fifteen minutes or so longer than Dan did. He would turn on the coffee machine and then sneak back into bed, it was a routine well practiced and enjoyed by the both of them.

"Why do you want to go shopping on today of all days? It's a rainy Monday morning." Phil replied, readjusting so that Dan could spoon him better.

"I dunno. Figured it would be nice. Give us something to do on a rainy Monday morning." Dan said.

"Okay, let me get dressed."

He did just that and soon enough they were in a Uber, heading to the mall. Dan wasn't sure exactly what they were going to do or buy, but he figured it was better than just doing what they had been doing the past few days - working.

They got out of the car, holding hands, and walked into the building. "We should go to Nike to get some clothes to work out in." Phil said. Dan snorted, shaking his head.

"Yeah, 'cause we're that couple." He added on.

"The super fit ones."

"Clearly, look at us."

The mall was fun, they walked around and Phil found a bank that ate the money, something that slightly horrified Dan and highly amused Phil. He bought one and then they went to lunch. It was about two in the afternoon and they were just arriving back to their apartment.

"Let's make cookies." Dan suggested, already pulling out the necessary ingredients for the recipe.

"I'm not against making cookies but I feel like something is going on," Phil said, pulling out a bowl. "Is there anything that is worrying you or something?" Truth be told, there was. Dan was falling for Phil but he had thought a lot about it, why pretend that they were going to be together forever when they probably weren't? Yes, they had feelings and yes, those feelings were strong, but wouldn't it all quit after a while? Romance always goes away in one way or another, whether it be cheating, divorce, or death, love never wins. What was the point in pretending that it will last? Dan couldn't see one. It would be easier to just end things now, before he got too hurt and Phil got too involved.

"Can we sit?" Dan asked, gesturing towards the bar-stools positioned at the counter. "Now that you say that, I do have something I want to talk to you about."

"Uh, sure." Phil replied, moving over to the bar and pulling out a stool for Dan before sitting down himself.

Dan tried to compose and synthesize his thoughts into one eloquent thought. He needed to say this is the most respectful and caring way possible, he was just trying to figure out how to do that. "I'm not sure I want to stay married," After seeing the look of alarm on Phil's face, he quickly rushed to finish his thought. "I don't want a divorce either! I just don't know if love is right for me."

"What do you mean by that?" Phil asked, clearly confused. Dan sighed.

"Have you ever thought about how hopeless love is?" He questioned, knowing Phil probably hadn't. "We live our whole lives searching for true love, we find it once, but it still ends up disappearing in one way or another. Death rips lovers apart, cheating ruins couples, and falling out of love isn't too uncommon. What's the point in pretending neither of us will get hurt?"

"Are you trying to say you don't have feelings for me any more? Because if so, it's okay." Phil said, looking distressed. He clearly was trying to figure out why Dan was having such a major freak-out.

"No, that's the point! I do, I totally do! I think I might be in love with you! But all love ends, you know? We can't do anything about it?"

"So, who cares? Death is inevitable but we still live. The whole point is that we're alive in this moment," Phil said, holding eye contact with Dan, his eyes staring him down. "That's the whole point of life, we do things because of how they feel."

Dan couldn't hold it anymore, he surged forward, connecting his lips with Phil's. Phil caught his waist as he slipped off his chair, Phil was barely taller than him now, using this to his advantage. Dan deepened the kiss and Phil happily obliged.

Phil stood from the chair, his hands wrapping around Dan's waist tighter as his lips left Dan's and started to mouth down his neck. Dan tilted his head back, allowing Phil more access to his neck. His hands came to rest on Phil's shoulders, his hands clenching his shirt tightly. Phil realized how worked up this was making Dan and started to suck on his neck, successfully making a small noise of pleasure come from Dan's mouth. He slid his eyes shut, one of his hands coming to rest in Phil's hair.

"Phil, Phil," He breathed, cheeks flush. "Don't start something you can't finish."

"Bedroom?" He asked with a glint in his eye.

Needless to say, Dan changed his mind about the divorce after that night. Phil was completely right, why deprive himself of falling in love, especially with someone who loved him back.

It had been a year, an eventful one. Phil had sold his apartment and officially moved in Dan about a month after they decided to stay married. Dan's book was set to release in a month, Phil's had been released a few weeks ago. Apparently the best way to get rid of writer's block was sex. Crazy concept.

They ended up getting a dog, who was loved and adored. They named her Piper. Dan doesn't really know why they decided on that name. It just kind of suits her.

Phil had brought up the subject of adoption a while ago and Dan had finally seen his side and agreed. They visited a local agency together and started filling out paperwork. Because they are planning to add to their family, they need to add to their place. Phil was currently looking at homes this very second.

Dan smiled warmly in his direction, finishing the order of pizza. Once he hung up on the delivery guy he walked towards Phil, deciding to sit directly next to him on the couch. Resting his head on his shoulder, Dan closed his eyes.

"What about this one? It has a pool, too!" Phil said. "It has 3 bedrooms and almost everything on our wishlist."

"It sounds perfect, babe."

#phan #phanfic #dan and phil #phanfiction #phanfiction au #they're writers #!#guys i worked so hard on this #im so happy to post it #it was supposed to have way more angst but i couldn't do it #i am Weak #and now my friend is playing her ukuele #like on snapchat and i am having a grand time #okay bye bye now #like it!#it gives me validation #laura writes

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