#my it teacher did some active learning earlier and it reminded me of this meme. i had to make this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

danfanciesphil · 7 years ago

Text

L’Histoire Française (New Chapter)

Teacher AU (Part 8)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

(Part Six)

(Part Seven)

(Now Available on Ao3!)

Following the small incident with the French girl, Dan makes the decision to walk with a group of students on the way back to the hostel from Châtelet, letting John take position at the front of the pack beside Phil, for once.

“Did you and Mr Lester have a fight, sir?” Savannah asks, giggling.

Dan chokes out what he hopes is a dismissive laugh, not sure how best to professionally respond. “N-no, of course not.”

“So why are you walking with us?” Lydia asks him, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised.

“I thought we were overdue a bonding session,” Dan jokes in a vain attempt to deflect their incessant questions. It doesn’t work.

Lydia scoffs, rolling her eyes, and tugs on Savannah’s hand, leading her away.

Dan shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant, and walks the rest of the way on his own.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” Phil says, making Dan look up from his phone.

He’s been neglecting it for the past few days, and now he’s taking the opportunity of this short period of time between activities to scroll through his many notifications. Three texts from Tyler, one from Teddy, multiple Facebook notifications, and a missed call from his mum.

Instead of replying to any of them, Dan locks his phone, and turns to Phil.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Dan says, smiling.

Phil smiles back, but he looks a little sheepish. “I lost my cool with that girl. I don’t get annoyed very often, but that was...” he frowns, and Dan stares at the unusual downturn of his mouth. “...difficult.”

“It’s fine,” Dan says, shrugging.

He can feel the itch of curiosity simmering beneath his skin. As much as he knows it’s probably best to remain in the dark about whatever that girl had said, he can’t help but wonder. He suppresses the urge to ask Phil about it, reminding himself that if her words had been awful enough to prompt an angry response out of Phil Lester - the most easygoing, lovely, ray of sunshine the world has ever known - then Dan can be pretty sure he doesn’t need to hear them in English.

“Can we just... forget that happened?” Phil asks, looking hopeful.

His blue eyes shine, wide and round; Dan wonders how anyone could possibly ever refuse him.

“Of course! Already forgotten.”

Phil smiles in relief, his shoulders drooping. “Cool, thanks. I’m gonna go tell the kids to get ready to eat.”

“Another early dinner?” Dan asks.

“Yeah,” Phil replies, fluttering a wink at him. “Gotta leave for the surprise at seven.”

“Surprise?” Dan asks, but Phil is already slipping out of the door.

Tyler Updates on le beefcake???

Tyler Daniel!! Have u snogged the frenchie yet?!

Tyler If u return to England without at least one tale of debauchery im not letting you back in the house.

Dan lets out a breathy laugh behind his hand.

Dan thts fine im 99% sure im gonna spontaneously combust before i get home anyway. we’re sharing a room 😫

He sighs, glancing over at the unoccupied bed beside his; his heart pangs as he considers the fact that he’ll have yet another night of trying and failing to succumb to unconsciousness beside Phil, right here, this very evening.

He scrolls down his messages to find Teddy’s, which are likely to be a little less excruciating in nature.

Teddy Found any Parisian macarons yet?

Dan phil forced me to try one :’) they’re not bad.

Teddy hot. pls bring some home <3

Dan tell ur menace of a bf to stop texting me inappropriate things and we’ll see.

Tyler do you think i don’t see what you two text each other??

Giving up on the two of them, Dan pockets his phone again, feeling it buzzing in his pocket with more texts already. He remembers that his mum phoned, but he resolves to call her tomorrow. Right now, he’s too on edge for whatever this evening’s ‘surprise’ might be.

As if summoned by this very thought, the door opens, and Phil steps back in, still seeming a little chagrinned.

“Ready for dinner?”

“Cardboard pizza and raw jacket potatoes?” Dan asks, standing from the bed. “Born ready.”

As Dan is nibbling the crust of his second slice of terrible pizza, Phil picks up his fork and makes a show of clinking it against the side of his plastic glass. Obviously, it doesn’t make a particularly loud noise, so he couples it a “ding, ding, ding!”

Dan stares at him amusedly, the overly crunchy pizza clawing at his throat as he attempts to swallow it. He washes it down with a gulp of Coca-Cola Light, wincing.

“Attention, folks,” Phil calls out to the students sat around the table. He stands from his chair, holding his glass up like he’s giving a toast. “I’d like to take this opportunity to tell you all how lovely it’s been having you with me on this trip. Thank you for putting up with my geeking out about this wonderful city. I know you’re all far too cool for me, so I appreciate it.”

“Aw, give over, sir,” Jonah calls out, making several others laugh. “You ain’t that bad.”

“Yeah, we’ve had a well great time, Mr Lester!” Joanna shouts, grinning.

“We love your geekiness, sir, don’t worry!”

“Some of us more than others, maybe,” Jonah adds, aiming a wink at Dan that he pretends not to see.

“Aw, well thank you very much, guys!” Phil says, appearing genuinely touched by these comments. “I hope you’ve all managed to learn something too, even if it’s just how to order a croissant from a boulangerie.”

“I’m sure it’s been a very informative trip, and that we’ve all learned a great deal, right class?” John asks, earning himself a unanimous “ye-es, sir”.

John smiles broadly, raising his glass to Phil’s. “How about a word of thanks to our lovely French-speaking tour guide then, everyone?”

The class send up a hearty cheer for Phil, clapping their hands and calling their thanks out loud. Dan joins in, possibly a tad more enthusiastic than could be considered appropriate, but it doesn’t really matter.

Phil laughs and bats his hands in the air, blushing. It’s adorable.

Once the uproar quietens, a rosy-cheeked Phil straightens up once again, addressing the group. “Right, well, as a treat for our last night, I’ve booked us all a special surprise!” He announces, grinning. The class gasp and chatter excitedly, their hands clutching at one another. “For our final evening activity, we’re all booked onto a river cruise along the Seine! I’ve hired us a boat for the night, which will be sailing us down the river for a couple of hours. There’ll be drinks and snacks available from the bar, and music playing in case you fancy a dance. So after you’ve finished eating, run upstairs and get your frocks on, then we’ll head down to the docks.”

The class cheer animatedly, whooping and clapping. Phil grins at them all, lifting his glass in acknowledgement, and then sits back down.

Dan stares at him in awe. “A river cruise?”

“Don’t tell me you get seasick, Dan.”

“No, it’s just...” Dan trails off, completely mesmerised by his own thoughts of the evening ahead. Gliding along the beautiful Parisian river in the darkness, Phil at his side.

He gulps down some Coke, trying to comprehend it.

“A bit romantic?” Phil supplies, finishing Dan’s sentence for him. “How else am I supposed to woo you, Dan? Time’s running out.”

“I didn’t bring anything nice to wear,” Dan complains as he drags a third meme t-shirt out of his case and discards it onto the ‘nope’ pile on his bed. “You didn’t tell me we’d be dressing up.”

Phil laughs at him from over the top of his phone screen. “It’s not a nineteenth century ball, Dan,” he says, “you don’t need to wear anything fancy if you don’t want. I just said that because the kids like to have an excuse to glam up. Like a school disco.”

Dan frowns at him, eyes roving over his outfit. Phil has already changed in the bathroom, and he looks ravishing. He’s wearing a dark blue and black checkered shirt, buttoned up to the collar. The contrast of the colours make his eyes and onyx hair pop; it’s taking a lot out of Dan to remain collected in his presence.

He sighs in frustration as he drinks in this delicious man once again, and tries not to despair as he looks down at his discarded pile of unsuitable clothing. Why is he even bothering to attempt looking nice? In comparison to Phil Lester he’s going to look like a gangly child anyway,

Noticing Dan’s look of dismay, Phil stands up and walks to his side. It really doesn’t help Dan to calm down at all, having Phil looking this good, this close.

“Hey, you can borrow a shirt if you want,” Phil offers, shrugging as he places a hand on Dan’s shoulder.

Trying his utmost not to squeak at the unexpected touch, Dan latches onto Phil’s words. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” Phil replies, gesturing to his own case. “Have a rifle through.”

“You’re a godsend, Lester,” Dan mutters, feeling Phil’s hand slip from his shoulder as he crosses to Phil’s bed and begins pawing through his open suitcase. He shoots Phil a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Phil chuckles, shrugging again like it’s nothing. “Not a problem. Kind of goes against my end goal to actively clothe you, but hey ho.”

This sort of remark from Phil should come as no surprise at this point, but Dan still feels like the floor has been swept out from beneath his feet. He lets out a mildly hysterical sounding bubble of laughter, and turns his blushing gaze into Phil’s assorted shirt pile, trying to focus on the patterns.

“Anyway, I’m just gonna go and see John about the details of the boat,” Phil says, moving towards the door. “He was supposed to phone and check it was all still okay, but I forgot he can’t speak a word of French, so I imagine he might need some help.”

Dan forces another laugh, this one sounding a touch more normal, and just nods at him in place of actual words. Phil gives a small wave, then disappears out of the door.

Without dwelling too much on his choice, Dan selects a dark shirt from Phil’s case, grabs his towel, and runs in the direction of the bathroom for a quick shower.

A cold one.

By the time Dan has showered, dried and straightened his hair, dressed himself, and grabbed his wallet and phone, it’s almost time to leave. Phil left the room to round everyone up as Dan was still in the straightening stage, so at 6:55pm, he’s jogging down the hostel corridor to meet everyone else already gathered in the lobby.

“Finally,” Jonah calls out, spotting Dan as he emerges, “what the heck were you doin’, sir? Strappin’ on your lingerie for later?”

“Jonah Frank, that is not appropriate,” John snaps, glaring at the teen.

VP Green looks rather polished this evening, Dan can’t help but notice, swiftly taking in his dark slacks and tan blazer. Phil spins on his heel then, mouth slightly parted as though he’s about to make his own comment on Dan’s late appearance, but he pauses, mouth remaining open as he sees Dan for the first time.

Dan’s initial thought is, of course, that he’s done something stupid and embarrassing like come down without his trousers on, or with shampoo still clumped in his hair.

He looks down at his outfit, checking, and cards his fingers through his carefully straightened locks. The weight of Phil’s gaze rests heavily on him, lingering, but he can’t figure out why.

He raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘what’s up?’, but Phil abruptly turns from him, a strange expression on his face.

Weird, Dan thinks, feeling far less confident in his appearance than he had when he cast a final look in the mirror a few minutes ago.

“Right, everyone here?” Phil asks the general mob, and the students murmur a vague affirmation. “Well, if anyone’s left behind, can someone please text them now, because we’re leaving.”

Dan pulls his (faux) leather jacket tighter around himself, comforted by the way the familiar material has shaped itself to his frame over the years. Phil’s shirt feels taut and starchy against his skin, but he likes the idea of wearing something of Phil’s, so he’s putting up with it.

John falls into step with him as they set off out of the hostel entrance, surveying Dan with something like surprise.

“You certainly scrub up well, don’t you!” John exclaims, patting Dan on the back. “Who’d have thought it?”

Dan laughs nervously, a little confused by this statement. He’s only wearing a shirt and skinny jeans. Sure, he spent a little extra time preening himself tonight, but it’s hardly a groundbreaking change, surely.

“Not so bad yourself, VP Green,” Dan replies politely, to which John barks a laugh.

“Too kind, but I rather think my days of catching anyone’s eye are behind me, Dan,” he says with a sigh. “The dark circles tend to send them running, nowadays.”

Matthew begins shoving Jonah in the side then, angry about some unknown disagreement, and John steps forwards to intervene, leaving Dan alone again.

Not particularly wanting to be caught up in another unsettling conversation about his over-fondness for these kids’ teacher again, Dan walks swiftly to the front of the pack in order to walk with Phil.

“Getting a bit rowdy back there,” Dan comments, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Might have someone overboard tonight if we’re not careful.”

Phil is staring at him again; he barely seems to be aware of what Dan is saying, which is bizarre. Usually Phil is such an attentive listener.

“That shirt really suits you,” Phil says after a moment, which sends all the blood rushing into Dan’s head. His head swims a little.

“Oh, th-thanks,” he manages, eyes falling towards his shoes. “Guess whoever bought it must have really good taste.”

Phil smiles, but it’s faint. His azure eyes track across Dan’s torso, searing a trail of fire into Dan’s flesh as they go.

His tongue flicks out across his bottom lip; Dan almost walks straight into a lamppost, he’s so distracted by it.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Phil says.

It occurs to Dan only as he is stood on the wooden deck of a lightly rocking boat, gliding over the inky waters of the Seine, that he has never been on a river cruise before now. Once, during his Freshers Week at university, he’d attended a boat party, but as far as he remembers (that night had been a particularly messy one) that boat had never actually left the dock.

They’ve been going along for around an hour, and Dan can’t seem to move away from the edge of the boat, mesmerised by the sight of Paris sliding by, a twinkling blur of golden light and colour, beautiful and dazzling.

“So, has Paris captured your heart?” Phil asks, stood beside him, his fringe fluttering upwards in the cool breeze.

A fist closes itself around Dan’s heart as he drinks in the sight of such a perfect, sweet smile, directed, bafflingly, towards him.

“Something like that.”

“‘He who contemplates the depths of Paris is seized with vertigo. Nothing is more fantastic. Nothing is more tragic. Nothing is more sublime’,” Phil says, his voice taking on a theatrical tone. “Victor Hugo said that.”

“Victor Hugo?” Dan asks, smiling fondly.

“He wrote Les Misérables,” Phil says, “and The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“Hm,” Dan says, nodding. “I reckon he was onto something. Paris is definitely... overwhelming.”

The way Phil is smiling at him is starting to make Dan want to squirm. He does not feel deserving of such warm attention, especially from someone so amazing.

“Overwhelming in a good way?”

Dan stares into the endless chambers of Phil’s glowing blue eyes, watching the lights of the city glimmer in their depths. “Overwhelming in a wonderful way.”

There’s a pause then, their eyes sticking to one another like they’ve been frozen in position, the narrow tunnels of their gazes fused. Light hubbub echoes in the background, of the students milling around the deck, alongside the soft lapping of the water against the side of the boat.

Eventually, Dan gathers himself, clearing his throat as he turns back to the sight of the illuminated buildings at the water’s edge. They pass under a bridge, lit up and gorgeous; dark, softened shadows caress Phil’s profile, sweeping across his porcelain skin, as though they can see how beautiful it is. As if they want to touch it for themselves.

“Beautiful,” Dan whispers without thinking. He starts, scrambling for words. “I mean, this is beautiful. The boat, the river... You’re good at surprises.”

“Thanks,” Phil says happily. “I love surprises.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil says, looking at him. “Can’t you tell?”

Dan frowns, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you were a surprise,” Phil says, like it’s obvious. “You might be the best one I’ve ever had.”

He’s never going to be used to the flirting, Dan thinks as his muscles seize up, his breath catching in his throat. Something about this time felt a little different though, Dan can’t help thinking. This time felt softer, truer.

He shakes his head free of the absurd thought before he runs away with it.

There’s no point entertaining the thought that Phil is doing anything other than being a flirtatious little minx, as always, just for the hell of it.

Phil chuckles at him then, probably in response to seeing how hard Dan is concentrating. Then, he leans in, bringing his mouth to Dan’s ear.

“What would you say if I asked you to do something irresponsible with me?”

There is no response available in Dan’s brain, short-circuited as it is by that illegal-tackle of a question, so he just gapes at Phil blankly, trying to process it.

Phil laughs again, then grabs Dan by the forearm and drags him away from the edge, towards the cabin of the boat.

As it turns out, ‘something irresponsible’ turns out to be drinking.

The bar on this boat is supposed to only serve soft drinks this evening, under Phil’s express instruction, but after five minutes of Phil’s charming grins and witty repartee, the bartender agrees to make an exception for the two of them.

They get a bottle of wine between them, hidden under Phil’s jacket. After just one glass, Dan can feel the bones and muscle in his body becoming lighter, his laughs bubbling up with ease. His hands become magnets, drawn to the polars of Phil’s arms and back, seeking out his addictive warmth without permission.

They wander around the deck, pressed against each other’s sides, sneaking dribbles of wine into their plastic cups out of sight of the kids.

John is preoccupied in what looks like a deep conversation with the captain, so they’re able to keep their irresponsible behaviour from him, as well. Phil asks Dan a plethora of questions, about his past, about his family, about his future plans and life goals. Dan does his best to answer them, but keeps reminding Phil that there’s simply no way he could possibly give any answer that will satisfy, because he’s just not that interesting.

Phil disagrees vehemently each time Dan says this, which is ridiculous, but it’s quite sweet too, so Dan doesn’t really mind.

On their third loop of the deck, they find that a handful of the students have found some chairs, and arranged them in a circle beside the outer wall of the cabin, out of the path of the icy wind. The students cheer as they notice Dan and Phil strolling by, and call them over.

Propelled in no small part by their alcohol-softened, happy moods, they wander towards the group, pink-cheeked and smiling.

“Come play a game with us, sirs,” Savannah calls out, her eyes already glinting with mischief.

Jonah barks a laugh at this, but nods fervently in agreement. “Yeah, grab some chairs, Mr Lester.”

A mistrust of this situation immediately cloaks itself over Dan, but he’s in too much of a good mood to really mind it. He ignores his instinct to refuse the offer, and sits in a chair Phil finds him, hands wrapped around his plastic cup, still.

He glances at Phil as if to check this is within the rules, and Phil just shrugs at him, managing to somehow discreetly pour some more wine into his own glass, shielded by his jacket.

He tucks the bottle beneath his arm, expertly concealing it from the kids as he sits to Dan’s right, the two of them nestled between Jonah and Bethany.

“So, what’s the game?” Dan asks, sipping wine as casually as possible.

“Aw, you’ll love it, sir,” Jonah grins, raising his own glass, full of something that looks suspiciously like a spirit. It can’t be though, Dan thinks in confusion. It must be apple juice. “It’s called ‘Never Have I Ever’.”

The bottom drops out of Dan’s stomach. He turns to Phil, sat beside him, sending him a horrified glance. Phil looks weirdly nonplussed about this answer, and just shrugs at Dan, smiling.

“Phil,” Dan hisses at him, “we can’t. Not with students.”

“Come on, if it gets out of hand we can just get up and leave,” Phil says in a voice which sounds an awful lot like the alcohol is persuading him not to fully appreciate the weight of his own decisions right now.

But partly because it’s warmer here, sat with the others out of the wind, and partly because he doesn’t want to appear a joy-kill in comparison to Phil, Dan just sits back in his chair, reluctantly accepting his fate.

“Okay, so Katie’s starting,” Jonah declares, grinning at the girl in question. She glares at him, but sighs in acceptance.

“Alright, never have I ever... been to Paris.”

The group groan at Katie, rolling their eyes as they all take a sip from their glasses. Dan drinks some wine, catching Phil’s eye amusedly, both of them acknowledging the hilarity of this situation.

This, Dan considers, is something truly irresponsible.

“Never have I ever gotten a tattoo,” Bethany shouts out from Katie’s left.

“What?” Dan cries out, horrified. “Aren’t you all, like, twelve?”

Everyone splutters with laughter, including Phil.

“Mr Howell, we’re fourteen!” Savannah cries out, indignant.

“S’not much better,” Dan mumbles, but he’s blushing faintly.

He glances at Phil, just in time to see him take a discreet sip of his wine. Dan’s eyes widen in shock, and he suppresses the urge to ask him aloud what the fuck kind of tattoo he has, and more importantly where.

Luckily, everyone is too distracted by Jonah gulping down his own drink to notice.

“What have you got, Jonah?”

“As if he has!”

“No way could he have gotten a tat,” Matthew cries, but he doesn’t sound totally sure.

Jonah just waggles his eyebrows at everyone, grinning. “If you wanna have a go at finding it Savannah, I’d let you.”

Savannah rolls her eyes, grimacing, and the others chuckle. “Isn’t it time for someone else’s go?”

“It’s Mr Howell’s turn, innit?”

Dan, who is still busy gawping at Phil in disbelief, snaps his head back to the others at the sound of his name. “Huh? Oh, right. Um,” he swallows, mind racing as he struggles to think of something appropriate.

Phil is smirking at him behind his glass, and it isn’t helping. Every time Dan has ever played this game in the past, it has inevitably dissolved into almost cruelly specific, hyper-sexual questioning designed to get people to admit their strange kinks and embarrassing anecdotes. Not to mention, to get people wasted.

That, for obvious reasons, should probably be avoided this time.

“Uh, never have I ever,” Dan begins, no idea where the sentence is headed. “Thought Mr Lester was my favourite teacher.”

The others groan and cackle at this, practically falling off their chairs in order to protest.

“Mr Howell, you sap,” someone shouts.

“Why’re you suckin’ up to him, sir? You’re not even in his class!”

“Can you be more up his ass, Howell?”

“Mate, you are so whipped.”

“Alright, alright,” Dan laughs, the alcohol in his system helping him to take the comments in his stride, “you’re all drinking though, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, and you as well, sir,” Jonah points out.

Dan shrugs in agreement, taking a gulp of wine as well. Everyone else in the circle takes a sip, which is kind of sweet. Dan sneaks a look at Phil, who is looking rather embarrassed, but pleased.

Phil laughs awkwardly then, but nods his thanks to the group nevertheless. “Very sweet everyone, thank you. Good to know that if you were drinking actual alcohol right now, your favour for my teaching methods would currently be getting you all plastered.”

The others laugh, and Dan smiles at the joke, feeling warm and light.

“Your turn now, sir,” Jonah tells Phil.

“Hmm,” Phil says, sighing. “Never have I ever...” he sneaks a look at Dan, who can immediately tell that he’s got something evil planned. “...secretly straightened my hair every morning for years to hide the fact I actually have curls.”

The look Dan gives Phil is one of utter betrayal. He sighs heavily, glaring, and tips a little more wine than planned into his mouth.

The students laugh and shout their disbelief, which only makes things worse, as their astonishment only proves that Dan had, until this point, been fooling them with his painstaking straightening every day.

“In other news, Mr Lester and I are no longer friends,” Dan announces, shooting Phil a look of pretend anger.

Phil just laughs at him, not looking the tiniest bit sorry. He tilts his glass to Dan, and winks.

“Boyfriends now is it, sir?” Jonah asks, laughing at his own joke.

Dan shuts his eyes in mortification, realising a second too late that he’s being a tad too casual with Phil to be considered appropriate right now. When Dan opens his eyes, the game is moving on, thank heavens. It’s now Jonah’s turn.

Dan’s stomach immediately flips as he realises this, and he tries his best to suppress the urge to give Phil a look of anticipatory fear.

“Okay, never have I ever...” Jonah pauses, his eyes narrowed as he sweeps his gaze across the faces in the circle, assessing. He lands on Dan, and lingers a moment longer, a slow smirk spreading over his mouth. “Had a crush on Mr Lester.”

Oh, fuck.

Every single pair of eyes in the circle turn towards him, and Dan can honestly say that he would rather the boat suddenly split in half and let him tumble in a Leonardo DiCaprio-style act of heroic sacrifice, into the depths of the Seine beneath.

His head in his hands, elbows on the cool metal railing of the boat’s edge, Dan feels a gentle hand placing itself between his shoulder blades. He shudders at the unexpected touch, knowing exactly who it belongs to.

“Dan, it’s okay,” Phil says, his voice like a soft, sandy shoreline after miles of aggressive, churning sea.

Dan lifts his head from his hands with a great sigh, staring out into the clusters of houses and shops and bars lining the banks of the river. In his peripheral vision, he notices Phil coming to lean on the railing beside him, close enough that their elbows brush.

He wishes, in a small sense, that Phil would move away. Every second he spends so close is only making this crush Dan can’t help harbouring that much worse.

“Phil, this is not okay,” Dan finds himself saying.

He’s dropped his wine glass somehow, somewhere, and he misses it suddenly. He’s certain that there was some left inside. He could use some dutch courage in order to say what he feels like he needs to, right now.

Phil turns to face him, smiling as ever, seeing nothing amiss because he’s a big, sunny orb of optimism and cheer.

“They’re just bored kids, don’t listen to them,” Phil says, one shoulder shrugging in dismissal. “They’re teasing you to get a reaction, but they’re just talking crap.”

“But it’s not crap, is it Phil?” Dan almost shouts, the words bursting from deep within his chest, as though they’ve been crammed in for too long, shoved down into the depths, hidden.

Dan can feel Phil turn his head in surprise at the outburst, but he doesn’t meet Phil’s gaze. Instead, he continues to stare stubbornly out at the shore, swallowing thickly. His hands ball into fists.

“They’re saying all that stuff because they know,” Dan continues, hearing his own voice take on a whiny quality, but not being able to stop it.

“They know...?”

Dan looks skyward, wondering how much mortification one human person can physically withstand before they dissolve into a squishy pink pile of liquified sludge.

Is he really going to have to spell this out?

“Yes,” Dan confirms, teeth gritted. “They know because I stare at you, and I laugh too loudly at your stupid puns, and my whole body goes bright red when you wink at me, or smile at me, or say anything even vaguely flirtatious.”

“Um... I don’t know if I get what you mean-”

The adrenaline flooding through Dan’s veins just from trying to stumble through this conversation is swirling with the alcohol already lacing his blood, making everything shimmer and pulsate. Dan can feel his hands shaking, and the thud of his frantic heartbeat is practically deafening.

He groans, cutting Phil off, and covers his eyes with his fingers. “It’s just...” Dan starts to say, no idea where he’s going with this now, “it would all be fine, wouldn’t it, if you were boring? If you were some random - admittedly hot - but, like, ordinary, worksheets and PowerPoint presentations type history teacher, with just the one language up their sleeve, and no sense of humour.”

Dan can feel Phil’s eyes boring into the side of his head, and he knows he should just shut the fuck up, because he could be ruining everything, and it’s really not worth it, but he can’t. Alcohol has always been like truth serum to Dan, has always made him too honest, has always been the key to unlock the floodgates of his closed-off personality.

“But you’re not,” Dan says, allowing himself one sneaky little glance at Phil’s wide-eyed expression before dragging his eyes away. “You’re exciting and intelligent and spontaneous. You’re an exceptional teacher, and you’re everyone’s favourite, including mine. And you’re too flirty, especially with me, which just makes it all so much worse. You call me cute, and pretty - because I think you did say pretty to that baker - and you wink at me, and say things just to see me blush. You stand too close to me, so much, all the time, so close that it makes me think that maybe, possibly, you might...” Dan pauses. “But you don’t! You never do! You just step away again, and it’s not fair, because the kids can all see it, written all over my fucking gobsmacked face, and-”

Dan’s not certain how it happens, but one moment he’s complaining, rambling at Phil, hunched over the railing, and the next he’s being pushed up against a nearby pole, Phil so close that Dan can feel the moisture on his breath.

He blinks, his sentence falling away from his lips as he stares into the impossible, never-ending oceans of Phil’s eyes. They shine with life, an excited kind of exuberance that makes them appear even brighter, even more colourful.

Dan swears he can see gold flakes flickering in their depths.

A second passes, and Dan realises he can hear the thudding of Phil’s heart, can feel Phil’s hands resting on his hips, just beneath the hem of his jacket.

“Phil, I swear to fucking God,” Dan whispers, his heart going so fast he thinks it might be humming. “If you move away right now...”

Phil lets out a very small little laugh, and Dan can feel the breeze of it tickle against his chin. “Then what?”

The effort it takes not to surge forwards and kiss Phil is astronomical, and Dan can feel his bones beginning to ache from it. He lets out a tiny noise of frustration, and something about it seems to ignite Phil’s reflexes.

It’s just as Dan is really wondering if he might be about to die of yearning, that Phil leans in, closing the gap between their mouths, a few inches, and a thousand, long, exhausting, miles.

Considering that they are standing so close, it perhaps shouldn’t feel as much of a surprise as it does, but Dan feels the shock slicing down to his core.

The soft give of Phil’s lips pushing against his.

The incremental tightening of Phil’s hands against the bones of his hips.

The overpowering warmth of his lean body, pressed in a hard line against Dan’s front.

He loses the ability to move, or think, or react. He can only stay motionless, stupefied, as Phil kisses him, his mind a white, blank void, his joints taut. A few seconds tick by, and Dan’s brain gradually begins to turn its cogs again, just enough to propel him into the sensation of Phil’s lips, kissing back as his hands grapple for purchase around Phil’s forearms.

It’s over in seconds.

A kiss so fleeting, yet so charged, that it literally leaves Dan breathless.

His lungs seize up, and he stops respiring, mouth parted in astonishment as Phil leans away. He’s smiling very slightly, a secret tucked into the whites of his eyes.

“Dan,” he whispers, shaking his head, “do you honestly think all this is one-sided?”

Before Dan can possibly begin unravelling that heavily knotted mess of a question, three chattering teenagers round the corner of the cabin, and Phil leaps backwards, his hands slipping from their hold on Dan’s hips.

“Oi, oi!” Jonah calls out.

Of course it’s Jonah, Dan thinks, eyes fluttering shut.

“What’s all this then, sirs?” Jonah is grinning madly at them; Dan turns away from him because he simply does not trust himself to respond in any way, even in terms of body language, without making this entire situation a thousand times worse. “Havin’ a li’l snog on the Seine?”

“Mr Howell and I are going over some curriculum matters, Jonah,” Phil says sternly, though there’s a slightly amused lilt to his voice, if Dan is not mistaken. “We can’t be spending the whole night playing silly games with you and your friends. Go and find Mr Green if you need something.”

“Ooh, sounds like we’re interrupting something, guys,” Jonah says to Matthew and Joanna, stood beside him; Matthew lets out a low whistle. “We’ll leave you to it, sirs.”

The others snigger, hiding their laughter behind their hands, and start to walk off. Dan turns, ready to demand a thousand answers from Phil about what just happened, but before he can speak, John rounds the corner as well, bumping into Jonah and the others as he does so.

He catches Dan’s eye, appearing exasperated, and stalks towards them. “Ah, there you both are! I’ve been going mad trying to find the two of you. I was wondering if you’d swum back to shore!”

Dan shakes his head, dazed. “N-nope.”

“Sorry, John,” Phil says, sounding a little hollow. “Didn’t mean to go AWOL. We’ve been... supervising Jonah and some others.”

John sighs, glancing over at where Jonah, Matthew and Joanna all loiter nearby, still glancing over at Dan and Phil, making some rather obscene gestures when VP Green isn’t looking.

“I see,” John says, “well, I’d appreciate a hand with Caoibhe and Regina, if you’re not busy. They both seem to be suffering with some seasickness, so...”

Dan phases John out at this point, turning as discreetly as he can to stare at Phil, who is looking at John as though he’d rather the older man dove off the side of the boat.

“Sure, sure,” Phil murmurs distractedly as John rambles on. “Look, John, we’re more than happy to help. We’ll see you by the bathrooms to help with the sick girls in five minutes, okay?”

“Five minutes?” John asks, bewildered as he looks between Dan and Phil. “Why, what do you need to do for five minutes?”

A pained expression passes over Phil’s features, and he casts a brief, apologetic look at Dan, sighing.

“Nothing,” he says through his teeth, dredging up a strained smile from somewhere. “Lead the way, John-o.”

John turns on his heel, walking briskly back the way he came, past Jonah and friends, towards the cabin of the boat. Phil falls into step behind him, maintaining a far slower pace, and Dan, still not sure what the fuck is even happening right now, shakily walks beside him.

Once John is just out of earshot, Phil leans towards him, sending Dan’s pulse skyrocketing once again, and whispers one, solitary word.

“Later.”

Later, as it turns out, is not until the boat has docked once more, their party of teens and young adults have disembarked, and they have herded a gaggle of hyper, partied-out students back through the cobbled streets to the L’Hotel Montparnasse.

Try as he does to maintain a collected air of professionalism, Dan spends the hour and a half proceeding Phil kissing him in a dreamy, dumb, stupor. He finds himself unable to answer the simplest questions asked to him by students, and cannot even seem to hold himself upright for longer than a few minutes without swaying to one side, busy as he is with replaying the moment over in his mind.

Phil, on the other hand, seems to be holding himself together rather well, from what Dan can see. He casts several loaded, meaningful glances at Dan, a thousand apologies and promises curled within the azure depths of his eyes.

As they walk home, past the Champs-Élysées, Dan feels Phil’s fingers curl very briefly around his hand.

But it’s gone before he knows it.

Eventually, after what feels to Dan like years, they reach the hostel. Between the three of them, John, Phil and Dan count up the students, and send them all off towards their rooms.

“Dan,” Phil says in a low voice. Long fingers curl around Dan’s wrist. “Why don’t you go up to the room? John and I will just make sure everyone’s packed and ready to leave.”

“Right,” Dan almost whispers, eyes glued to the hand wrapped around his arm.

“See you upstairs,” Phil says, releasing him.

Dan looks him in the eye, breath caught. “Okay.”

It seems to take hours for Phil to get back to the room. Dan doesn’t dare do anything but wait for him, legs tucked uncomfortably beneath himself on his bed, fully dressed still, right down to his shoes.

He’s taken his jacket off, but only because the air is suddenly stifling in here, though he hasn’t noticed it until right now. His mind whirls, a rickety fairground ride caught in a high wind, its flashing novelty lights streaming through the night sky as it careers from left to right.

He can feel the indents of Phil’s lips, moulded into his own, he’s sure. Carefully, he lets the tip of his tongue run over the thin, slightly chapped skin, tasting what’s left of him.

His fingers drum against his leg as he replays that one moment, the moment to trump all moments, over and over.

Do you honestly think all this is all one-sided?

What had Phil meant? Could he have been implying that, somehow, miraculously, he feels the same way Dan feels? Impossibly, it seems that he might even be saying he has been feeling it all along. All this time.

How is that possible?

To distract himself, lest his over-analysis drive him mad, Dan reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out his phone.

Dan Ty, I think something is about to happen.

Dan Help me.

He waits, staring at his phone, muttering “reply, reply, reply” under his breath. There’s no excuse for Tyler not to. That guy never has his phone more than two feet from his hand.

Sure enough, around fifteen seconds later, Dan’s phone buzzes in his palm. Then it buzzes again. And again.

Tyler WHAT

Tyler DAN OMG

Tyler Are you about to bang him?!!

Dan’s face immediately pales, and he drops his phone on the bed. Christ, he is not prepared for this, emotionally speaking.

Dan I DONT KNOW

Tyler WTF is happening??? HOw are you texting me??? WHAT HAPPENED

Dan he kissed me

Tyler WJHAT

Dan We were interrupted. Now Im waiting in our room for him

Tyler WHATOMGFdFFSD

Dan TYLER DO YOU HAVE ANY ACTUAL ADVICE COS THIS IS JUST MAKING IT WORSE

Tyler ok ok ok ummmmmm oh wow

Dan looks down at the three dots pulsating under Tyler’s response in despair. If this is Tyler’s idea of advice, he’s royally fucked.

Tyler ok so just breathe. he’s already made the move! you know he likes you

Trying to follow Tyler’s instructions, Dan inhales deeply, filling his lungs with some much needed oxygen. His heart is still jackhammering, but he does feel a little more clear-headed.

Tyler from the sounds of it he might try and go for it - do u want something to happen??

Dan swallows, trying to conjure up the insane scenario of actually getting physical with Phil Lester, the man of his (until now) very fictional daydreams.

Dan think i might combust but fuck yes i do

Tyler then just let it happen hun! Teddy says use protection

Tyler i say have fun and tell me every fuckin detail bitch

Dan chuckles, unable to help himself from laughing at Tyler’s typical absurdity, and at that moment, there is the distinct sound of the door being unlocked from the outside.

Dan freezes in shock, dropping his phone onto the bed, Tyler and Teddy forgotten. He can feel the beads of sweat pearling on his brow, dampening his fringe. It will curl in the moisture, Dan thinks, irritated. But then, Phil had said once that he actually quite liked the curls.

The door opens, and Phil steps into the room, his jacket still on. The corner of his mouth tilts upwards as he locks eyes with Dan, and he closes the door softly behind him, not once looking away.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Dan squeaks back.

Smiling still, Phil moves further into the room, shrugging off his jacket as he goes. He reaches into the inner pocket before discarding it onto his bed, and pulls out a half empty bottle of whiskey.

“Look what I confiscated from Jonah,” he says, his smile growing a little wider.

Dan’s eyes fall to the bottle, barely registering it. He tries to nod, but can’t seem to do more than jerk his chin a little. Phil chuckles lightly, then reaches down to unscrew the cap.

“It would be irresponsible of us not to dispose of this, don’t you think?” Phil asks, taking a sip of the whiskey. Dan’s eyes hone in on the amber liquid, trickling between the purse of Phil’s lips. He takes the bottle away from his mouth, eyes glinting. “Wanna help me get rid of it?”

Before Dan can answer, Phil is moving towards him, climbing up onto Dan’s bed. In itself, this is enough to make Dan want to scream, but then Phil is hooking a leg over Dan’s thighs, straddling him, his knees settled snugly either side of Dan’s hips.

Dan chokes on his own saliva, every droplet of blood in his body rushing south as Phil settles himself comfortably in Dan’s lap. Phil looks down into Dan’s face, still amused, and takes another sip from the bottle.

He holds the bottle out for Dan then, one eyebrow raised. Dan grabs hold of it, taking a large swig, mostly because he doubts he will be able to manage to stay coherent throughout this if he’s sober.

Hyper-aware of how restricted his movements have become with Phil on top of him, Dan leans back as far as he can and places the bottle on the bedside table.

He leans back up, his body thrumming with adrenaline, and then Phil kisses him, fiercely, harshly, like he can’t stop himself from swooping in and stealing the kiss from Dan’s lips. His lips are fiery with whiskey and warmth; Dan imagines he can taste every molecule, every atom that makes him up. Can feel the singing of their sister particles floating in distant galaxies, as they sense the collision of their mouths.

It is glorious.

He hears the cataclysmic swell of a symphony at its climax, and the lovestruck cry of a great, majestic whale. The white noise roars in his eardrums, and Dan wonders why everything is so loud, until he realises that his own heartbeat is the instrument making the cacophony.

He clutches at Phil’s arms, trying helplessly to pour as much as he can into this one joining of their mouths. His fingers claw and cling, desperate to pull him closer, despite how pressed together they already are.

Phil is pushing him backwards, and Dan is about to fall back onto the mattress, he’s sure, but then Phil’s hands are fisting in his shirt, hauling him upright again.

Phil’s lips slide from his, peppering hard, insistent kisses across the flush of his cheek, dragging over the line of his jaw. Dan gasps as he feels the scrape of teeth, just below his ear, and then biting at the lobe, teasing and too, too much.

“Ça fait des semaines,” Phil whispers, sounding almost pained, “que j'en avais envie.”

Dan shudders; he has little to no idea what Phil is saying, but it doesn’t even matter. He imagines he can hear the sinful tone dripping from each syllable, and it only makes everything ten times headier, more euphoric.

“Fuck,” Dan whispers.

In another circumstance, he might feel embarrassed at being so ineloquent in the face of Phil’s beautiful, natural slide into his second language, but right now he literally cannot think of any word that sums up his current tumult of emotions better.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Dan cries out, his hands clutching at Phil’s shoulders as he feels the older man move his searching kisses to Dan’s throat. “Wait, Phil, I- AH!”

Phil pauses, having just sunk his teeth very lightly into the spot just above Dan’s collarbone. He pulls away cautiously, leaning backwards to look Dan in the eye, mildly alarmed.

“Ça va?”

Dan can’t help but splutter a laugh, nodding his affirmation, though in truth he’s not totally certain. Is he really okay, right now?

“S-sorry,” he manages, somehow, to spit out. “It’s just... my neck, um, it’s- it’s really, um...”

Dan trails off, mostly because his cheeks feel like they’re about to burst into flames.

Phil quirks an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his mouth. “Oh.”

Dan doesn’t have time to respond before Phil is leaning back in towards him, sealing his lips back against the skin of his throat. Dan sucks in a sharp intake of breath, at once jerking backwards and pulling Phil close.

He squirms as Phil begins sucking at the skin, his teeth digging in to the soft flesh; it will definitely leave a mark, Dan thinks, unable to stop a small whimper escaping.

His neck is ridiculously sensitive, it always has been. Dan’s last girlfriend, Stephanie, had tried giving him a hickey once, whilst drunk, and she’d sucked so hard that the bruise had stayed deep, dark and ferociously noticeable for weeks.

As Phil bites at him, just the right side of painful, teeth worrying at him as though he wants to devour Dan bit by bit, he thinks he wouldn’t care if Phil marked him permanently.

Eventually, just as Dan’s efforts to keep his embarrassing whines under wraps begin breaking apart, Phil leans away, finding Dan’s lips again and kissing hard enough to bruise.

“Tes baisers sont comme une drogue,” Phil moans against his mouth, then takes Dan’s lower lip between his teeth.

Dan is sure he’s about to pass out, partly from the lack of oxygen managing to work its way between their kisses, and partly from the thrill of this, of just being immersed, so heavily, in Phil, in his touch and weight and taste.

“Phil,” Dan whispers, dumbed.

At that moment, like a bucket of icy Seine river water being thrown down upon their heads, a knock raps at the door, loud and even.

Phil rears backwards from Dan, his head whirling to face the noise so fast that Dan feels a little dizzied.

Neither of them speak. Phil turns back to Dan slowly, a look of dread passing over his face. It occurs to Dan, belatedly, that they are currently in an extremely incriminating position, in the eyes of anyone on the other side of that door.

He meets Phil’s gaze, suddenly terrified.

Another knock sounds, longer and more insistent this time. Phil rises from Dan’s lap, scooting off him entirely, and scrambles into a standing position beside the bed, pink-cheeked.

He runs a hand through his hair, tugs at his rumpled shirt and fusses with his collar for a moment, before heading towards the door. Dan watches him do this, bewildered, still in a stupor; it’s only when Phil turns to give him a look, one hand on the door, that Dan realises he probably needs to sort out his appearance too.

He smooths down his hair, hands shaking, and attempts to gather the many, many loose, tangled threads of his unravelled emotions.

Dan casts a look around his immediate vicinity, looking for anything incriminating, and spots the bottle of whiskey, still perched on the bedside table. He grabs hold of it, tucking it out of sight, beneath the bed.

Phil sighs in relief, nodding at him, then takes a deep breath, and pulls open the door.

John’s raised fist sails through the air into nothing.

“Oh!” John exclaims, straightening up. “You are awake. I thought you might’ve gone to bed already.”

Phil forces the most pretend-sounding laugh Dan has ever heard. “Oh, um, no not yet.”

“Best be getting those pyjamas on soon, then!” John says brightly. “Up bright and early tomorrow!”

Phil nods, smiling at John. “Yep, we will, don’t worry.”

“Just wanted to check the times with you,” John continues, placing a halting hand on the door as Phil inches it closed. “The bus is leaving at what time, did you say?”

“Um...” Phil flounders, casting a look over his shoulder at Dan, clearly at a loss.

For some reason the number springs into Dan’s otherwise blank mind. He holds up nine fingers.

��It leaves at nine,” Phil says, turning back to John. He fakes a yawn, fanning a hand over his mouth. “Anything else, John? You’re right, we should probably get to-”

“What time should we get the kids up?” John asks, still chipper.

“Um, I- I don’t...”

“Is Dan in there too?” John asks, pushing the door open wide.

Dan freezes in alarm, sure he’s got ‘I was just snogging Phil’ stamped across his forehead. Instead of gasping in horror however, John just smiles at him, sending a little wave from the doorway.

Dan returns it, meekly, trying not to be too obvious about sending little ‘help’ glances at Phil, who is still stood, despairing, by the open door.

“Ah, there he is!” John says. “What time should we send round a wake up call, d’you think, Dan? About seven-thirty? We’ve got to squeeze in breakfast for them, which we can do at about eight, and then they’ll probably be ready by nine I should think as long as they get their things together...”

John rambles on for another minute and a half, during which time Dan just nods and tries to remain calm. He focuses on regulating his breathing, his palms clammy and damp with the effort of trying to look normal.

“Anyway!” John says at last. “I’ll leave you to it then, boys. Thanks for a lovely trip! It’s been grand! See you in the morning.”

Then, with one final wave, he’s walking away, back down the corridor towards his room. Phil shuts the door quietly, the little click still loud enough to make Dan wince.

Once they’re alone, Dan melts, flopping back onto his mattress, his muscles screaming in relief, released of tension.

“Holy shit,” Dan says, blood pounding in his ears.

Phil is being awfully silent, so Dan sits up at once, terrified that this interruption will have slapped him into sense, and that he’ll have changed his mind about whether or not it was a good idea to kiss Dan at all.

“Phil?” Dan asks timidly, finding that his feet are wandering away from him, standing up off the bed and walking over to the door. Dan only stops when he’s standing right in front of Phil, hands balled into fists, heart pounding. “Are you okay?”

Phil stares at him, chewing the thumbnail of his left hand. He flicks his gaze over Dan’s face once, and then steps forwards, shoving him (carefully) against the nearest wall.

It’s delicious, tasting his lips again, and Dan welcomes them as they crash against his; the sea shore, spread wide and inviting for the turbulent, sapphire waves.

And then, as quickly as it came, it’s over. Phil steps away, jumping backwards as if Dan’s skin is alight. Dan travels with him a few inches, not expecting the sudden loss, and then just stares in bewilderment.

“Dan, we- we can’t,” Phil tells him, his eyebrows creased in regret. “I’m sorry, I just... we can’t. Not- not now.”

“What?” Dan blurts out, confused.

“Dan,” Phil says, pained. His hands flap through the air, shaky and unsure. It’s so unlike him, Dan thinks, to seem this muddled. “I’m a teacher... you’re a teacher...”

“Actually-”

“Teaching assistant, whatever,” Phil cuts in. He cards a trembling hand through his hair. “The point is... we’re at work right now. Technically, I’m on duty, and so are you. What if there was an emergency? What if the kids needed... anything? I can’t be... we can’t be...” he trails off, cheeks stained with pink. “Do you see what I mean?”

Dan lets out a sad, frustrated little “no”, but his eyes don’t match it.

Phil sighs at him, sadly. “Trust me, I hate this as much as you do.”

“Not possible,” Dan mutters, wondering whether Phil is actually expecting Dan to be able to go to bed right now, what with the searing, bubbling arousal still coursing through his veins.

Phil steps towards him, hand outstretched, and then he draws it away, seeming to catch ahold of himself just in time.

“I think I’ll, err...” Phil scratches at his head, whirling round on the spot. His eyes land on his open suitcase, and he goes to it immediately, grabbing his pyjamas. “I’ll just go and, um, change. In the bathroom.”

He hugs the pyjamas to his chest, carefully side-stepping Dan in order to get to the door. Before he disappears into the hallway, he gives Dan one final, guilty look, coupled with one of something like longing, his lip caught between his teeth.

The door clicks shut behind him, and Dan slides down the wall at his back, landing in a crumpled heap on the floor.

Well, he supposes once he’s down there, his jellified legs were going to give out eventually this evening.

“Can you at least sleep with me?” Dan asks, still not sure whether he’ll survive the night; he’s so frustrated he thinks he might splinter into shards at any moment,

Phil turns to him, eyes wide. “Um...”

“Just sleep,” Dan clarifies, reddening. “In my bed, with me. Nothing... else.”

Phil gnaws on his lip, seeming conflicted. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Dan asks, his jaw clenching.

If he has to stare at Phil across the chasm between their separate beds after this, he thinks he might actually burst into flames.

“You’re...” Phil sighs and sits down on his bed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Very kissable.”

Dan blushes immediately, a smile catching him off guard as it spreads over his mouth.

“Is that a problem?”

“Mm,” Phil replies, mouth quirking in an amused smile. “It is when I’m trying to resist you.”

“Why are you doing that, again?”

“Not sure,” Phil chuckles. “Think it has something to do with being a responsible guardian?”

“Sounds boring.”

“Totally.”

There’s a silence then, loaded with their unspoken desires. Phil sighs again, sounding resigned, and he peels back the covers of his own bed, about to climb in.

Dan can’t allow it.

“I promise I won’t kiss you,” Dan says, urgent. “I’ll stay right up against the wall, away from you. You won’t even know I’m there.”

Phil looks at him, smirking. “I think I’d remember.”

“Please?” Dan begs, desperate now.

He can feel his heart straining, urging Phil to say yes. His eyes widen, puppy-like, and he holds Phil’s gaze, willing his resolve to break.

After a moment, Phil lets out a small grunt of resignation. “Okay.”

Dan can’t quite believe he won, but he doesn’t have time to feel surprised for too long, as the next minute Phil is slipping under his covers. As promised, Dan scoots right over, plastering himself against the far wall, but Phil’s hands wrap around his waist at once, pulling him in, their chests crushed against each other.

Dan stops breathing.

Phil’s chest is warm and solid. One of his hands is caught between them, meaning his palm is pressed to the soft cotton of Phil’s t-shirt. His heart thuds beneath Dan’s fingers, steady, but faster than it should be.

Phil removes his hand from Dan’s waist in order to take off his glasses, and leans away for a moment to put them aside. He turns back, his arm finding its place once again, like it belongs there.

“Just so you know,” Dan whispers as Phil moves forwards, their noses bumping softly. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to get very much sleep.”

Phil smiles sleepily, his eyelids fluttering as if they’re seconds away from closing. “That’s okay,” he leans in, breaking his word as he closes the distance, for one, fleeting moment, between their lips. “Tu peux partager mes rêves.”

(Part Nine!)

(Translation of the French can be found here!)

#phan #phanfic #teacher au #l'histoire française #dan and phil

82 notes · View notes