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pricetagofficial · 4 years ago

Text

The Archer T.D. Part 2

Warnings: Language, Blood, Angst, Sexual Content, etc.

Part One Part Three

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag: @catxsnow

Chapter Two

Tim was sat on the couch looking through the news feed on his phone, keeping up to date with everything going on not just in Gotham but the rest of the world. It sufficed to say that Tim rarely ever quit working after he became Robin at the age of 15, now he was 19 and wasn't even Robin anymore. He was Red Robin, one of Gotham's protectors along with the rest of his family.

"Master Tim, would you be so kind as to take your feet off of the couch I just vacuumed?" Alfred asked, holding a tray with a mug of coffee on it.

Tim bent his head backward to look at the English butler and gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Alf."

"Apology accepted, now would you please remind your brothers that we are expecting a guest?" Alfred requested, handing Tim the mug of coffee he had asked for 20 minutes before. Tim gave him a nod and rose to his feet, taking a large sip of the coffee. "Also, remind them I want the manor to stay clean until they arrive."

Tim gave Alfred yet another nod. "Sure thing, also thank you for the coffee." he smiled and walked out of the sitting room. Knowing his brothers, they would be down in the Batcave prepping for the night's patrol. Something Tim did 3 hours prior. Turning the handles on the clock in the study, Tim drank half of his coffee in one gulp before descending the stairs.

What he saw when he got down there was no surprise to him. Of course Dick, Jason and Damian were all down there but so was Stephanie and Barbara. Cass was still in Japan on Batman Inc. business and wouldn't be back for another month.

There stood Stephanie in her average daily wear, with what looked to be jumbo marshmallows shoved into her mouth with Dick and Jason egging her on. He didn't have to see the look on Babs' face to see that she did not approve, and Damian was his usual self standing off to the side observing the others' antics.

"Guys, Alfred told me to remind you that our guests are arriving." he sipped more coffee and stood by Barbara and his assumptions were right. Steph was, for some unknown reason, shoving jumbo marshmallows into her mouth.

"Yeah, yeah. Timmy, you have to look at this. Steph has 14 jumbo marshmallows in her mouth. 14!" Dick said, clearly excited.

Damian huffed, "Why don't you tell him why she has 14 marshmallows in her mouth?"

Tim looked at his siblings, obviously it had something to do with Dick and Jason because they were to most excited about it. Knowing them, it was some kind of bet to see how many marshmallows she could fit into her mouth which would also explain the look of disapproval from Barbara. One wrong move and Steph would either spit them all over or choke and need CPR.

"Jason made a bet to Dick on how many she can fit didn't he?" Tim asked.

"Bold of you to assume that I started this babybird." Jason retorted.

"Did you?"

"Of course I did."

Tim rolled his eyes and looked at the clock on his phone, according to Alfred their guests were an hour away and Bruce wanted everyone to meet them. Like clockwork, Bruce appeared and took one look at his kids and let out a long sigh.

"Why is it that everytime we have people coming over, at least two of you do something stupid?" he asked, as Stephanie shoved two more marshmallows making Dick grin wider.

"Oh come on B, at least let us finish this bet. I am 3 away from winning. I bet she could fit 20 in her big mouth, Dick bet 18." Jason said, not turning to look at Bruce. "Besides, what's so important about these people anyway?"

"Oliver Queen is bringing his ward to stay with us for a while. They've been having some trouble and they thought I could help." he explained, crossing his arms and watched as Steph fit yet two more marshmallows maxing it out at 18 like Dick bet.

"Ha! I told you she could fit 18!" he taunted, pointing a finger in Jason's face.

"Don't ha me yet Dickiebird. If she fits two more, I win." Jason grinned, pushing Dick's hand away.

Bruce dropped his head in defeat. There was no way they were going to listen to him when they were like this. Everyone watched as Steph grabbed 2 more marshmallows and began to fit one into her mouth much to Dick's dismay. Jason crossed his fingers as she tried to push the last one in to make it 20, but gagged halfway through and spat them all over the floor.

"19! I win! Take that Jason, you have to bake me cookies now." Dick cried triumphantly. Jason however did not look that impressed.

"You lost too looser, she had 19. Not 18."

"Jay, that's not how it works. She got to my number not yours. I win." Dick argued.

The next thing they knew, Jason was trying to put Dick into a headlock who just kept flipping away out of his hold only making Jason try harder.

"Master Richard, Master Jason! Stop fighting and come up stairs. Our guests are almost here." Alfred announced, appearing at Bruce's side. Both boys stopped and rubbed the back of their necks.

"Sorry, we'll be right up." Dick said and began to help Barbara upstairs.

"What's so important about Oliver's kid anyway? Did he blow up a building or something." Jason asked, heading for the stairs.

"Rory has been having problems, I think we can help." Bruce explained yet again.

"His name is Rory?" Damian asked, crossing his arms. "Sounds stupid."

"Master Damian, there will be no name calling of our guest. Understood?" Alfred scolded. Damian huffed again and gave him a nod.

Tim was the last one up the stairs, with Alfred right behind him. So the guy's name was Rory, what did he look like and what problems was he having? With their eventual arrival, Tim would find out soon enough.

About 20 minutes later, everyone was in the main lobby awaiting Oliver and his ward.

"What do we even know about this guy?" Jason asked.

"Jay, can you not be suspicious of everyone?" Stephanie asked, leaning over to look at him.

"Being suspicious of everyone keeps you alive, big mouth." Jason replied with a smirk.

"Who are you calling big mouth?! If anyone is the big mouth it is you!" she yelled at him, a frown upon her face.

"I'm not the one who put 19 jumbo marshmallows in my mouth on a bet!" Jason yelled back, and like everytime someone starts a yelling match, everyone began yelling at each other.

"Enough!" Bruce yelled, his voice vibrating off the walls of the manor. Immediately, everyone went quiet with the occasional mumble of "Sorry, Bruce."

Tim played with his fingers, there were a million other things he could be doing at the moment but they were waiting on Oliver and Rory to show up. The name Rory sounded familiar to him as well, years ago he knew someone by that name but there was no way they were the same person. His Rory was a girl for starters and Oliver's was a boy, so they couldn't be the same person.

There was a knock on the door and everyone straightened up. Alfred opened the door and in walked Oliver Queen with a few suitcases. "Hey Alfie! Long time no see!" he cried.

Alfred gave him a smile. "Nice to see you again Master Oliver." Oliver gave Alfred a pat on the back and looked back out the dor.

"Come on Rory!" he called. The person who appeared through the door next surprised everyone.

Rory Queen was in fact not a boy. Rory Queen was a girl, and not just any girl. Rory Queen was Tim's childhood best friend.

"Everyone, meet Aurora Queen." Bruce introduced.

Rory's eyes looked around and assessed everyone in the room, she went from Alfred to Bruce to the line behind him. The boy at the end of the line caught her eye. The first words out of her mouth were not in greeting at all.

"Tim? What the fuck are you doing here?" she asked.

Immeadiately, everyone's eyes turned to look at Tim. "What, you know her?" Dick asked curiously.

Tim was speechless, he hadn't seen Rory in 13 years and she looked the same. Of course the last time he had seen her she was 7 and he was 6, she had grown but her eyes and smile were still the same. All Tim could do was nod in response.

"Wait, you knew she was a girl and neither you nor Bruce thought to tell the rest of us?" Jason cut in.

"Well, I didn't want to ruin your assumption Jason. Maybe you should think before daring someone to put 20 jumbo marshmallows in their mouth." Bruce stated, a small grin on his face. "But I had no idea Tim knew her."

"In his defense, it's been 13 years and I was Aurora Sonnet then." Rory stated, looking at Tim who seemed to be in shock.

"Timmy? Hello? Earth to Timmy?" Steph said, waving her hand in front of his face. Tim's mind was going a million miles a minute.

Why the hell was she Aurora Queen and not Aurora Sonnet? Clearly Oliver was her father figure now, so what did that mean about her parents? Last he checked he was still married to Dinah, so he couldn't be her stepfather. Bruce had also said she was Oliver's ward like Tim and the rest were to him.

So that left only one option, Michael and Clara Sonnet were dead and he didn't know until now.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, he finally found his voice. "Yeah, we were kids. She moved to Star City because she got into a prestigious ballet school." Tim explained. "How is that going by the way" he asked.

Rory's face fell, the thought of dance always brought her back to her parents and these days she just didn't have the heart to dance anymore. "I stayed until I graduated 4 years ago."

"4 years ago? But that means you would have been like 15 when you graduated?" Dick asked, clearly confused. She was about the same age as Tim right?

"I was 16, I did highschool in 2 years."

Everyone's jaw dropped. Not only was Rory Queen a girl, a pretty one at that but she was a genius and a vigilante like them. It wasn't long before the gears started to turn in Dick and Stephanie's heads, knowing someone close to them who was just like that.

"Well, you are welcome here Miss Queen." Alfred said with a smile.

"I'm leaving her in your capable hands Alfie. Take care of her." Oliver ruffled Rory's hair, "I have to get going, Dinah can only do so much without me. Be good and for the love of everything do not bleach the cape again." he said giving her a quick kiss on the forehead and headed out the door.

"That was you!?" Stephanie yelled, "I had never seen Bruce so angry, how did you do it?"

Rory went to open her mouth, but Bruce stopped whatever she was about to say. "Never mind the cape getting bleached, she is not telling you because I know at least two of you would try to replicate it." he pointed his gaze at Jason and Steph.

"I feel as if we should be insulted that he would asume we would try it." Steph mumbled.

"Do you blame him? Have you not seen the things we have done?" Jason laughed, and shook his head.

"Enough about the bleached cape, Rory let me introduce my family." Bruce said. He gestured to the first person in line, he was tall with black hair and blue eyes. "This is Dick."

Dick stuck his hand out, Rory taking it and giving it a good shake. "Nice to meet you Rory, I hope you'll enjoy your stay here." he said with a charming smile.

The next person in line looked Rory over with a slight smirk. "Jason Todd, I'd say the same but half the time I don't enjoy it here." he said, making Rory laugh a little. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind.

Next to Jason was a blonde girl, immediately she took Rory's hand and shook it. "The name's Stephanie, glad we finally have another woman in the house. Babs and I are being suffocated with all the testosterone." she chuckled.

Rory let out a chuckle, "Glad I could balance it out."

Next to Stephanie was another female but she had red hair, Rory could only asume this was the Babs she mentioned. Barabara reached up and shook Rory's hand. "I look forward to working with you." she smiled.

Next to Babs was another boy, but he was shorter and had a darker complexion and actually resembled Bruce a little. Rory stuck her hand out, only for him to reject it completely with a huff. "Sonnet." was all he said.

"That's Damain, he isn't a people person." Tim said from his side.

"Are you sure you're even a person Drake and not just some robot Father concocted?" Damian retorted.

"Ooh, been working on that one all day little D?" Tim taunted, making Damian glare at him. "Tt, whatever." he mumbled.

It was then Rory turned her attention to Tim, the best friend she hadn't seen in over a decade. She didn't know how to address him, was Tim okay or did he prefer Timothy now? Should she hug him, but they weren't that close anymore so it could be overstepping boundaries. She looked at Tim and it seemed that he was thinking just as hard if not harder about their situation.

Rory followed her instincts and pulled Tim into a tight embrace. "I missed you, Tim." she mumbled softly. She felt Tim's arms wrap themselves around her and hold her just as tight.

"I missed you too songbird." he smiled.

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dvp95 · 5 years ago

Text

so easy to come back into you

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: teen & up

warnings: none

tags: memory loss, canon compliant, hurt/comfort, established relationship, happy ending

word count: 8,856

sequel to still the best, more or less (which you can read on ao3 or here on tumblr)

read on ao3 or here!

"I hate saying it because it makes me feel like a fucking child, but none of this is fair."

Dan is watching the fern in the corner sway gently every time the standing fan blows air its way, because that's always a lot easier than looking Robin in the eye.

"Why do you think you sound like a child?"

"Because," says Dan, "adults know that life isn't fair."

"Do they," says Robin. It's not phrased like a question, so Dan doesn't answer it. She pauses just in case he wants to, but Dan doesn't want to talk about his parents' mottos today. "Talk to me about fairness. What would be fair for you, Dan?"

The fern settles as the wind direction changes again. "It's not about what's fair for me. He needs me to hold it together."

"You're not prioritizing your own feelings," Robin says gently. She doesn't need to voice the again, the as per usual. Dan hears it anyway.

"It feels selfish," says Dan. "To want more than he can give me. But - fuck, I really miss him."

"Do you resent him? For not giving you more?"

"No," Dan says, kneejerk. Robin waits, giving him a chance to think about it properly. Her silences used to unnerve Dan, make him feel like she was sitting there judging him, but that was a few years ago. He's grateful for it now. "Not... really. I don't resent him, because he's doing what he can, all he knows how to do, but I resent... the situation."

"The unfair situation."

"Yeah."

He chances a glance at Robin, who smiles when their eyes meet. Her legs are crossed at the ankles and she has a notebook in her lap that she hasn't touched yet today.

"I know this is going to sound obvious," she says, "but have you spoken to Phil about this?"

No. Dan can't do that to him, can't saddle him with more stress than he's already got, can't take the risk that he'll decide Dan's more trouble than he's worth. He shakes his head.

"You don't know Phil," he says instead. "Hell, I don't even know Phil right now. But he's not exactly the type to wear everything on his sleeve. It felt... easy, the first time, because we were on, like, level playing ground. But now... I don't know. I guess I'm noticing how much shit he doesn't tell me. And if I spoke to him about feelings, I don't think he'd know how to handle that at all."

"What bothers you more?" Robin asks, leaning forward a bit. "That you don't know what Phil is thinking, or that he doesn't know what you're thinking?"

Dan doesn't have an answer for her. He looks back at the fern and resolves to think about it.

It's like Uncanny Valley happening in real time. Dan will stumble into the kitchen to see someone that looks like Phil making coffee. He'll wrap his arms around its waist and kiss its shoulder, and it feels like Phil. Then it'll open its mouth and say something that's just this side of wrong, and Dan is jolted into remembering again.

Phil can only get away with not seeing his family for so long. They're close, the Lesters, in a way that Dan used to be jealous of.

That was before. Before Florida, before the Isle, before before before. Dan is naturally a jealous person, to be honest, but how could he have stayed jealous of something he was so wholeheartedly included in?

"If you don't let Martyn come and check on you, your parents will show up at our door without warning," Dan tells him when he hits ignore on yet another FaceTime call.

It's one of Phil's big fears, Dan knows,; his parents suddenly looking old. It's why they travel to see them more than they really need to, so Phil can look at his parents and reassure himself that they haven't aged a decade overnight.

Not a reassurance he'll get now, clearly.

"I know," Phil says on a sigh, toying with the volume buttons. He's still getting used to his phone. Dan had limited the apps on it before handing it over last week, still paranoid of Phil getting overwhelmed.

"You'd rather see Martyn first," Dan says with a confidence he doesn't feel. "He's in London. I'll tell him to come for dinner, okay?"

Phil looks over at him, and Dan hates this part. He knows there's something happening behind Phil's eyes, but they're so carefully neutral that he couldn't possibly guess what it is. It's not something that used to get directed at him, not often anyway, not outside of arguments or surprises. It's all he sees now.

"Okay," Phil finally agrees. Relief washes over Dan. "You're right, Martyn is better right now."

So Dan tells Martyn to come over, and then he helps Phil clean the flat. He always freaks out when guests are coming and does weird things like scrub the baseboards. This, at least, has not changed.

They play music loudly to make the cleaning feel like fun rather than a chore. Phil makes up words to every song, even if he knows it, and Dan nearly eats shit when he steps onto a fresh-mopped floor in socks. The way Phil laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever seen almost makes up for Dan's life flashing before his eyes. It's a good day.

The problem is, Dan can't shake the feeling that he's playing house.

Phil is Phil, except in the ways that he isn't. He might as well be a stranger for all Dan actually knows him. He's heard stories about this Phil, obviously, met him not too long after this, watched him grow into the man he is now. Was. The man he was. Hopefully, the man he will be again.

Until that time comes, though, Dan is going to have to suck it up and deal with the unsettled feeling in his gut.

He takes a shower so he doesn't have to watch Phil make dinner, still familiarizing himself with the contents of all their cupboards. He uses Phil's body wash so he can continue clinging to any part of him that's still around.

Their buzzer goes off fifteen minutes before the agreed meeting time. Dan wonders what fear Kath and Nigel instilled in their sons to make them so prompt as adults, because his parents certainly missed the boat on that one. Phil gives him meerkat eyes, so Dan goes to answer it with a flurry of hellos and how was the journeys and then the conversation trails off to make room for the elephant in the corner.

Martyn gives him a hug, the kind of full-body one reserved for celebration; Cornelia's hug is tight around his ribs, and Dan almost gets choked up by the care they're showing him.

Neither of them are smiling. Dan realises that he isn't smiling, either. The entry landing is quiet, somber, like they're a trio in mourning.

"He's in the kitchen," Dan says when the quiet starts to get to him.

"How you doing, mate?" Martyn asks.

"Not great," says Dan. It feels both good and bad to be so honest, but there's no point in trying to bullshit either of them. "Like, it's been a bit of an adjustment."

"No kidding," Cornelia says in her soft, musical voice. She takes Dan's hand and squeezes it. Her hand is soft and so small that Dan is worried, ridiculously, about hurting her, but her grip is strong as she leads the way to the kitchen.

Phil stays facing the stove for as long as he possibly can before it would be weird, turning around with that carefully neutral mask on.

"Hey, Mar," he says, his voice not giving away how freaked out he's been all day.

It's not like watching Phil put on different faces is new to Dan, exactly, but he can count the times Phil's done it around his family on one hand.

Martyn either doesn't notice or is very good at hiding his emotions, too, because he just smiles and comes closer to clap Phil on the shoulder. "Hey. Heard you went and got yourself another brain injury."

"Yeah, I'm trying to beat the Guinness World Record," Phil quips. His guarded eyes sweep over Dan and Cornelia, still joined at the hand, and he smiles. "Who's this, then?"

"I'm Cornelia, it's so nice to meet you - again." Cornelia laughs, a tinkling bell of a noise that makes the kitchen feel brighter. She lets go of Dan to envelop Phil in a tight hug around his waist. "You can call me Corn if you like, I don't mind."

"Nice to meet you, Corny," says Phil. The unapproved nickname is on purpose, Dan knows - he's trying to make himself more comfortable by being silly.

Cornelia laughs again and lets go of Phil, her eyes twinkling. "You must have so many tales about your brother."

Like magic, Phil's whole face brightens until he's Phil again.

They trade stories about Martyn while the man in question protests, argues about details, puts Phil in a headlock and messes up his hair. Dan doesn't chime in, just stirs the pasta sauce and lets the three of them bond. He's heard most of the stories before, but some of them still surprise a laugh out of him. Every time he laughs, Phil looks at him with his eyes all scrunched up, happy, and Dan has to remind himself to breathe.

Dan expects things to be weird, honestly, but two Lesters in a room makes for easygoing conversation all through dinner. When Phil gets confused or trips up, Martyn recovers the dialogue like he never dropped the ball. It's a relief not to be the only one doing that for Phil.

It's a relief, but it's also frustrating. Dan is naturally a jealous person. He wants to be the one Phil looks to for explanations and reassurance.

He knows that Phil needs a bigger support system for both of their sakes, but Dan can't help the childish craving for Phil's attention whenever Martyn or Cornelia make him laugh.

"Mum wants to know if you need anything, by the way," says Martyn. Dan starts a bit when he realises the statement is directed at him.

"Oh," Dan says, idly folding and refolding his paper napkin. "Like what?"

"Hell if I know, but she told me to offer."

"Like photo albums or anything," Cornelia suggests. "Or maybe she just means cakes? She makes a lot of cakes when she's stressed, doesn't she?"

"She does," says Dan, a smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, tell mum to send whatever care package she thinks is best."

Phil's eyes fix on Dan, staring a hole into the side of his face until he turns. Martyn and Cornelia are already joking about what Kath will send, but Phil is just. Looking at Dan. With a small, shy sort of smile, Dan nudges Phil's thigh under the table.

"What?" he murmurs, leaning a bit closer to Phil so that they've got the illusion of privacy.

"Nothing," says Phil. He smiles too, a genuine one that makes the tightness in Dan's chest melt away. "Sounds like my mum likes you a lot."

"I like to think she does."

"Oh, she does," Martyn cuts in, not even pretending he wasn't listening. "Likes him better than she does me, some days."

"But neither of us can compare with the favourite," Dan sniffs.

"Fucking mama's boy over there," says Martyn.

"Now, now, be nice," Cornelia hums. She folds her own napkin into origami and gives them a cheeky grin. "It's not her fault that Phil's the only one here who hasn't said cunt in front of her."

"Hey," Phil protests lightly.

"That's because -"

"He hasn't because -"

Dan and Martyn shout over each other, both trying to get the joke in before the other one gasps it out, yelling 'he's never seen one!' in a sort of chaotic harmony.

The appalled look on Phil's face makes Dan cackle, leaning off his chair with it. Martyn manages to hold a straight face for about five seconds before he's snickering, too, and then the two of them are lost in fits of laughter. It isn't even that funny, but every time Dan looks up and sees Phil - all disapproving and trying not to grin - or Cornelia - humming a tune and looking for all the world like she's on another planet - he sets himself off again.

"Why don't I help you clear the table, Phil," says Cornelia, giving Martyn a fond sort of smile. "Let them get it out of their system."

"It's hard when you don't have any other twelve year olds to bant with," Phil says solemnly, and Dan honks another loud noise of mirth. As he takes Dan's plate, Phil tugs at one of his curls.

Dan smiles, wide, and leans up to press his giggles into the corner of Phil's mouth for a half second. It's nothing Martyn hasn't seen before, but Phil still jerks back as he stands up straight and blinks over at his brother like he's expecting - something. Dan doesn't know what's happening in his brain.

Whatever he thinks Martyn is going to say or do doesn't happen, though, and Phil's shoulders relax as he follows Cornelia into the kitchen.

Still trying to get a handle on the bout of hysteria, Dan clears his throat before speaking. "Th-that was weird, right?"

"Mm?" Martyn prompts, fighting his own stupid grins back. "What was weird?"

"Phil, just now," says Dan.

"Oh, that." Martyn shrugs. "He hasn't come out to me yet. I mean - obviously, like, he has done, he did that ages ago, but - for him, the way he's - ugh. Mate, I don't know how you're doing this."

"It's easy sometimes," Dan says honestly.

"Easy how?"

Martyn's voice is all curiosity and no judgement. He rests his jaw on his palm as he waits for Dan to collect his thoughts, something Dan has watched Phil do a thousand times. It makes him smile and also somehow simultaneously makes him want to cry.

"Easy like everything about being with him is easy," says Dan. He keeps his voice low in case Phil is trying to eavesdrop. "The situation sucks, but. He's still Phil, y'know? I still love him. He still leaves his socks everywhere and has awful trash talk when we play games. And he wants to be here, he likes being around me, so. That part is easy. Being with him is easy."

"You've said that," Martyn says.

"I was repeating myself for emphasis."

"Really? I just figured you got lost in your own rambling again."

Dan flips him off and keeps talking like Martyn hadn't interrupted. "Plus, he doesn't know all the bad shit about me yet. Like, he knows I'm a human disaster, but. The actual bad shit."

"Whatever 'bad shit' you're talking about," says Martyn, doing finger quotes in the same stupid way that Phil does, using his whole hand, "if it didn't scare him off the first time, it won't do again."

"I'm not totally sure of that," Dan admits.

"Then you're very stupid," says Martyn, matter-of-fact.

That startles another laugh out of Dan, and he kicks at Martyn's shin under the table. Martyn kicks back, harder.

"Cunt," he says, and there's a beat of silence before they both lose it again.

As much as he loves them, Dan feels relief wash over him when the door closes behind Martyn and Cornelia. He sees Phil's shoulders slump with the same feeling as he grins at Dan.

"You were right," Phil says. "That wasn't so bad. I think mum and dad are going to be a lot harder to see again."

"Yeah, but mum and dad love you," Dan reminds him, leading the way downstairs. He hears Phil make a small, surprised noise and assumes he missed a step or something. "And they're stubborn as you are, y'know. You can't hide from them forever."

"It's only been a few weeks," Phil mumbles.

"That's forever in Lester time."

Phil hums and flops down on their sofa, right in Dan's usual, creased spot. "Guess so. What's your family like?"

The question catches Dan off guard and he hesitates in the process of tucking his legs underneath him on the sofa. After a beat, he finishes getting comfortable and says, "Fine, I guess."

"You guess," says Phil. "I don't know anything about them! Do you have any siblings?"

"Yeah," Dan says slowly. He doesn't want to talk about this. It took long enough for his Phil to understand the relationship Dan had with the rest of his family, he doesn't expect this Phil to get it at all. "Got a little brother. We're not close in age."

Phil is nodding before Dan finishes talking. "Yeah, you seem like an older brother."

He doesn't elaborate. Dan doesn't ask him to, because he's not sure he wants to know what parts of his personality show all the guilt and resentment and protectiveness he feels when he thinks of Adrian.

"Thanks, I think," says Dan. "You want to play Mario Kart?"

Thankfully, Phil doesn't press the topic. He shakes his head, though, and stretches his arms out.

"I'm just gonna go read in bed, I think. Long day."

"Alright," Dan says. "Let me just grab my laptop and I'll come with."

Phil hesitates. Bites his lip. Says, "Oh. I... sorry, I'm used to you just, like, getting it. Totally forgot how to communicate like a person. Having people over drains me, like, a lot. So I need to go recharge before bed."

Dan doesn't get it, not at first, and Phil's voice is gentle when he adds, "Alone."

"Oh," says Dan. He tries to act like lead hasn't dropped into his stomach. "No, yeah, of course. I'm an introvert too, so. I get it."

"Thanks, Dan," Phil says in evident relief.

He must be dying to get away from you, the self-destructive part of Dan's brain says. Dan tries to ignore it as he goes to the gaming room to play some Skyrim and lose himself in the virtual reality world. He doesn't give his depression brain goblin the satisfaction of convincing him that Phil suddenly hates him, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

In ten years, Dan has never once counted as 'people' for Phil, and vice versa. They'd stumble home from overwhelming social events and world tours and still crawl into bed together, doing their own activities in silence while they recharged together.

It's just because Phil isn't as familiar with Dan, it's nothing personal, but. Dan's character gets caught by a guard while he's distracted.

He plays until his eyes are burning and carefully packs the headset away so one of them doesn't trip over it again. Judging by the time on his phone, Phil's probably fallen asleep already.

That's good. Dan isn't sure that he can act like he isn't affected by Phil's sudden need for space.

Sure enough, Phil is snoring lightly when Dan gets to their room. He's propped up on his pillow, his book is open on his chest, and his glasses are in danger of falling off. It's a sight Dan has grown so familiar with over the years that it warms him to the core, helps chase away the bad taste in his mouth that the word alone left there.

"Stupid," Dan murmurs. He puts Phil's glasses and book on the nightstand before he gets ready for bed. Phil doesn't stir until Dan slides under the covers with him.

"Mm? Huh?" he bleats, squinting in the general direction of Dan's ear as Dan maneuvers him into lying down properly.

"Shh," Dan soothes, running his palm up and down Phil's arm. At the sound of Dan's voice, Phil relaxes and shifts closer. He ends up with his cheek pressed to Dan's chest, his fingers curling around the pocket of Dan's sweats.

"Night, bear," Phil mumbles into Dan's shirt, and Dan stops breathing.

The room is quiet but for Phil's slow breaths and Dan's heart, which is suddenly pounding like he's running a fucking marathon.

Maybe he'd just said Dan's name. He was all muffled by the fabric and his accent has been more Northern than usual since the incident, besides. There's no way he said what Dan heard. There's no way, because Dan can't get his hopes up like that only to see the usual soft but guarded look on Phil's face in the morning.

Dan has a very hard time falling asleep.

In the morning Phil doesn't act any differently, and Dan resigns himself to having misheard. He could ask Phil, sure, but Phil has always been a bit of a mimic - he's been repeating phrases from the AmazingPhil channel that he doesn't understand for weeks now, been latching onto Dan's speaking patterns for years before that - so Dan doesn't want to bring something like this to his attention. For all he knows, Phil would start calling him that every day, and it's not exactly their most used nickname as it is. It'd be weird to hear it all the time.

Most days, honestly, are good. Dan goes for long walks, watches tv, plays games, eats good food, kisses his boyfriend, ignores all the tweets and messages asking for updates on Phil's status.

He still doesn't think Phil needed to make it a video, but Phil had insisted. The story has some humour in it, Dan supposes, but Phil looking wide-eyed at the camera and saying, "and I was like, who's this giant man threatening to call my mum, I was freaking out," isn't something Dan will be able to laugh about anytime soon.

A little over a week after the first, Phil films another video. He answers a mixture of silly and serious questions to reassure everyone that he's fine, more or less. Dan stands behind the camera the whole time and tries not to laugh or make comments.

He's always liked watching Phil work, but this is different. Phil is rougher than he'd been before Dan met him, stumbles over his words a lot, looks at the viewfinder or at Dan instead of the lens. He's less polished. Dan actually thinks it's sweet.

Even though most days are good, Dan still has moments that almost take him out at the knees with how much they make him ache.

It's all the times that Phil will say or do something that makes Dan think, oh, there he is, he's back, only to learn that Phil picked up the habit from watching his own videos. He's a mimic, always has been, and every time a stupid meme comes out of his mouth, Dan has to experience fresh disappointment all over again.

It's all the times that Phil will kiss him, compliment him, wind his long fingers into Dan's belt loops and pull him close just to feel him. Phil is more tactile than he's been in years, not settled into their relationship the same way Dan has.

It's the time, singular, that Dan comes downstairs and sees Phil with his hand in a box of cereal. He scolds him like he's always done and Phil - Phil apologises. Says he really didn't know, and is there anything else he shouldn't be eating? Should he label Dan's food so he doesn't forget? Dan has to leave the kitchen. He never expected the loss of grand theft cereal to be the first thing to make him cry over the situation.

Most days are good, but Dan finds himself waiting on a precipice for something that Phil may never be able to give him.

"It's October."

Dan makes a noncommittal sort of noise around his toothbrush and spits in the sink. "Sure is. I'm thrilled you finally learned how to read a calendar."

"Your mum can read a calendar," says Phil. He's shaving, frowning at himself in the mirror every once in a while, and Dan wishes he could make that self-conscious part of Phil's brain be quiet for a little while. "I just mean, it's October. You said it's ten years this month."

In the mirror, Dan watches himself smile. "Yeah. The nineteenth, if you were wondering."

"That's soon," Phil says, smiling back at Dan when he catches his eye in their reflection. "What are we doing for it?"

"Same thing we do every year," says Dan. "Fuck all."

He expects Phil to laugh or roll his eyes, but Phil frowns. "We don't celebrate it?"

"No, I mean," Dan says, feeling awkward now. He puts his toothbrush away so he can wrap an arm around Phil's hip and duck a kiss to his shoulder. "We weren't out for a really long time, right, and the day meant something to us publicly, so. If we left the house it would have been a whole thing. We just get Dominos and watch some Ghibli or something and have sex. It's a good tradition."

"But it's ten years." Phil still sounds like he can't believe it, every time. "And we're out now. We can do something different, I think. It's not like you're gonna have sex with me, anyway, so the tradition is already shot."

Phil's just being matter-of-fact about it, not annoyed or anything, but Dan still feels the familiar weight of guilt settle over his shoulders.

It's not like Dan doesn't know he's been weird about it. They've been kissing every day, cuddling every night, giving each other soft touches to remind the other that they're there every moment in between, and that hasn't been an issue.

The moment Phil had put his tongue in Dan's mouth and slid his hands up Dan's shirt - well. Dan wouldn't call it a panic attack, exactly, but he'd had a very non-sexy physical reaction. It had been good, because making out with Phil was always good, but. It had also felt like kissing a stranger, because that wasn't the way Phil would kiss him Before. So he'd gotten weird, and Phil had easily accepted the new boundary.

"It's not that I don't want to," Dan mumbles into Phil's shoulder.

"Shut up," says Phil, all affection.

Before Phil can put his razor away, Dan takes it from him and tilts Phil's head gently. "Missed a spot."

"Oh. Thanks."

"What d'you want to do, then?" Dan asks as he finishes off Phil's face. "I mean it when I said we've never really done anything for it. I had no idea you'd even want to."

"We don't need to do anything, like, fancy," Phil says. He's surprisingly patient with Dan doing this for him, managing to stay still and not get himself nicked. "And I don't know what 2019 me is thinking or anything, but I'd bet he would want to do something, too. Ten years is a long time, Dan."

"Don't need to tell me," says Dan. "Spent my whole adult life with you, stupid."

Phil hums. Dan can feel the vibration of it where his fingertips rest against Phil's throat. "Yeah? How old are you?"

"I'm surprised you haven't Googled me yet. Twenty-eight."

After turning Phil's face this way and that to make sure he's clean-shaven, Dan leans in for a soft kiss. He wraps his arms around Phil's waist and feels warmth spread through his chest when Phil cups his jaw, brushes his thumbs over the places where Dan's dimples appear. Phil has never cared about Dan's dimples so loudly the way he does now, and Dan would be lying if he said he didn't like this minor change.

"Forgot what we were talking about," Phil admits when they break apart, grinning dumbly at each other.

"Anniversary," says Dan.

"Right," says Phil. "We can just, like, get coffee. You can show me round London."

"Oh, so you have been Googling?"

"Googling what?"

Phil sounds sincere enough, but Dan knows not to put total trust in that. The sincerity is always what makes him fall for Phil's stupid pranks.

"Sure, so you weren't thinking that we should go to Starbucks," Dan drawls, tracing shapes over Phil's lower back through his cotton shirt, "and then go check out some shops, and go for some drinks, and go on the Eye?"

"I wasn't thinking any of those specifics at all," Phil says with a laugh. He bumps his nose against Dan's, gentle. "Except the Starbucks. But it sounds nice, if that's what you want to do."

Does Dan want to do that? Does he want to relive that? With Phil's guarded eyes?

"No, that's okay," says Dan. "Too cliché. We'll go to Starbucks and, like, the arcade or something. I'll kick your ass at DDR."

"That sounds great, too. Thanks, Dan."

"Stupid. Don't need to thank me."

They just stand there for a little while, smiling and pressing soft kisses to the other's face, until Dan's stomach makes an audible noise. Phil laughs, tongue between his teeth, and pats Dan's tummy.

"C'mon, you lug. I'll make you some pancakes."

When Phil continues to only speak to his parents through text and refuses to answer any questions about when they can come round, Dan takes matters into his own hands.

"Phil," he says, kicking at him from across the sofa.

"What?" Phil asks. He doesn't look up from his graphic novel, but he settles a hand over Dan's ankle.

"Your parents are coming over tomorrow." Dan gives him a very stern look when his head jerks up, full meerkat mode engaged. "Don't you look at me like that. I've got therapy, so you can talk to them for a little bit on your own, okay? We aren't going to keep ignoring them til fucking Christmas or you'll be written out of the will."

"Dan," Phil says, and his eyes are so round and terrified that Dan almost feels guilty about giving Kath and Nigel the green light.

"No, Phil." Dan is using the voice that he has to use when Phil does very stupid things like accept someone's open beer at a uni party or refuse to call the gym back after being traumatized. "They're worried and upset and they keep calling me about it."

He's worried he's gone too far, for a moment. Phil looks down to where he's holding Dan's ankle and admits, "I'm really, really scared. I don't want them to look old."

"They don't look old," Dan says, softening his tone and crawling into Phil's lap. The graphic novel gets put behind him on the coffee table, where it'll be safe, and Phil's hands curl around his hips. Dan runs his thumb over the worry lines between Phil's eyebrows to try and smooth them out. "You don't look old, Martyn doesn't look old, your parents don't look old. You all just look older."

"That's the same thing," Phil whispers.

"It's not." Dan will die on this hill. He kisses the discoloured patch on Phil's forehead, knowing how much its existence bothers him. "You love your parents so much. You have such a - like, the relationship you guys have is amazing. It's what -"

He swallows hard. He knows how he wants to end the sentence, but he isn't sure Phil is ready to hear it. They're not the same people they were two months ago. Dan can't say the same things anymore.

Phil doesn't push for him to keep talking. "I'm scared, Dan," he says again, burying his face into Dan's neck.

Repressing a shiver, because Phil doesn't know better than to breathe all over his neck, Dan soothingly runs his fingers through Phil's hair. "I know. But you have to rip the bandaid off. It's been a month and they're going crazy."

"You're right," Phil sighs against Dan's pulse point. Dan's heart quickens. He tells it, very firmly, to shut the fuck up. "I know you're right. What time are they coming?"

Robin doesn't have a clock in her office. She keeps time on her phone, which is kept face down on her armrest and goes off with a gentle beep every fifteen minutes. Dan had found it unsettling at first, but he doesn't even notice it now.

"I didn't like leaving him alone," Dan says as soon as he sits down. "They just got here, didn't even get their shoes off, but. I needed to be here, y'know?"

"I don't know," says Robin. "You haven't framed the issue at all."

She's good at that. Reminding Dan to keep his thoughts in context so that he doesn't spiral. He smiles at her before turning his eyes to his favourite fern.

"I asked Phil's parents to come over without telling him," he tells the plant, because that's easier than telling Robin. "He's scared of seeing them, I told you that last week and the week before that and - sorry. But, he is. And talking to him about it wasn't doing anything, he was listening but he wasn't doing anything, so. I called them. Am I a bad person?"

"Not at all," Robin says without hesitation. "One choice doesn't make or break you, Dan. Did you call Phil's parents because you were frustrated with him, or did you call because you were worried about him?"

"A little of both," Dan says honestly. He's long past lying through his teeth to his therapists.

"Those are very valid emotions for you to feel right now," says Robin. "What did I say to you last week?"

She'd said a lot of things the previous week. Dan thinks back, carefully pages through the file folder in his brain where he keeps the sessions to take out and peruse at his own pace. "You said... there's no guidebook for this. It's not a normal situation. Even if it was, it would be impossible to navigate until you're in it."

"That's right." The fern's leaves flutter in the breeze.

"I'm worried that he won't forgive me," Dan tells it. "He doesn't love me anymore, you know. That means he can just leave when I fuck up."

"Doesn't he?" Robin hums. She's writing things down today. That usually means she wants to quote Dan's own words back at him later. "Has there ever been a time that Phil didn't forgive you for something?"

No. Not once.

Dan stays quiet for a few minutes. It isn't until the soft beep comes from Robin's phone that he says, "I want to talk about my dad."

It isn't the smartest decision Dan's ever had, spending most of today's session unraveling some of the tangled web of trauma that he and Robin have been working on for years. He knows it'll feel good later, it always does, but for now he's just. Tired.

He gives a round of hugs when he gets home, nearly tearing up when Nigel pats his back, and begs off to take a nap as soon as he sees the relaxed expression on Phil's face.

Selfish, his goblin brain whispers as he crawls under the covers and does his breathing exercises.

In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Just simple counts to help him fall asleep and focus his mind on something other than the very hard therapy session he's still processing. It's almost like meditation.

Later, he'll get up and cook dinner. He'll chat with the Lesters and keep Phil's spirits up and think about how this, this is what he wants. This is what he's afraid to tell this Phil he wants. He wants to stand in his child's kitchen and watch them be happy, wants them to want him around, wants what he never knew was an option until he met Kath and Nigel.

For now, he'll keep breathing.

"I'm not wearing that," Phil says flatly.

"You're the one who bought it," says Dan, already exasperated with the argument. He puts the pastel hoodie away and comes back with another hanger, one of Phil's favourite tees. "Fine, this one?"

"No," says Phil. "What the fuck? No. Why do I own that?"

"Because you like it."

"It just says 'vibes'. What's there to like?"

"I'm going to kill you," Dan informs him, "and I'm not even joking a little bit."

"Why don't we just go shopping," Phil groans, flopping back onto the bed and starfishing out.

"Because you have an entire closet full of things here!"

"So I'll get rid of some stuff," says Phil. He shrugs, turns his head to look at Dan. His hair is getting longer, falling into his eyes a bit when he leaves it down. "No big deal."

Dan's breath hitches. His voice is too sharp when he says, "Like fuck you will."

Immediately, he wants to take it back. He knows better, knows that nothing can be accomplished by them getting angry with each other. He's just standing there in their bedroom, holding a t-shirt by its hanger and looking at Phil with eyes as wide as Phil's own.

Then, Phil sits up. "They're my clothes," he says.

They're not, Dan thinks.

"They're not," Dan says.

"Funny," says Phil, and his voice is cooler now. "Thought you said I bought them. Seems like it should be my decision if I get rid of them or not, right?"

"No, because," Dan says, then stops. He can't say what he's thinking, what's on the tip of his tongue, because it's not fair.

Phil's expression shutters even further. "Because I'm not him, right?"

"He's not a fucking - you're not separate people, Phil." Dan's hands are shaking as he puts the hanger back into the closet, making sure it's spaced evenly between the other shirts so he doesn't have to look at Phil.

"I'm not?" Phil asks. His voice has gone all quiet, still cool, and Dan feels a chill go up his spine. "You've been acting so - like. Dan. You've been so bloody good to me, you've made me feel so safe and, like I'm home, but I don't think you're talking to me about yourself at all. How do you feel about this? Do you think I'm a different guy now? Do you miss him? Why don't -"

"Stop," says Dan. He's proud of the way he holds it together, stops the word from wobbling out.

"No," Phil says, because he's never argued with Dan before. He doesn't know how, yet, how to soften the sharp edges of all they have to say to each other until it's something productive instead of hurtful. "You're not talking to me."

"I don't want to talk to you about this."

Dan finally turns around. He wishes he hadn't, because Phil's expression looks like he's been slapped for a half second until he schools it into the carefully neutral one that Dan hates.

"We've been together ten years," Phil says. "And you won't tell me how you're feeling?"

"We've been together a month," Dan says. He'll regret the words later. He's regretting them already.

"Am I separate people or not, Daniel?"

The name cuts through any and all composure that Dan might have built up. He sees it again, the confusion and panic in Phil's eyes as he said I don't know what else to call you, that moment where Dan had finally believed him and felt his heart drop into his fucking gut, and he breaks down.

He cries for the first time since the cereal incident, wracking sobs that are frankly embarrassing to let out in front of another human, and lets himself sink to the floor. Part of him likes the drama of it all, but the rest of him is just fucking miserable.

"Fuck," Phil says, the mask he'd slipped on broken by pure panic, and Dan is getting wrapped up in a strong, familiar embrace. "Fuck, Dan, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

It's okay, is what Dan wants to say. It's okay because it's you, and I love you, and you're here even though you don't have to be.

He can't say any of that, though, because he can't even breathe. It's like all of it is coming up at once and making Dan's whole body shake with it. He tries to do his breathing exercises, four-seven-eight, but he can't focus enough.

"It's not fair," is what he manages to gasp out.

Dan's parents would hate that phrase, coming out of his mouth while he cried like a baby. Life isn't fair, they'd remind him, and he'd figure that out when he grew up.

"I know it's not, baby," is what Phil says, though. He doesn't call Dan pet names often at all. Dan wonders if Phil is panicking just as much as he is right now. "I know, it - this sucks, okay, I know it does. But you gotta breathe for me. Can you breathe for me?"

Dan doesn't know.

Somehow, he gets that uncertainty across to Phil, because he's manhandling Dan between his legs now. Dan is coaxed into sitting with his back pressed flush to Phil's chest, Phil's long legs bracketing his own, and Phil puts both palms flat onto Dan's torso. One on his chest, right above his heart; the other on his stomach. It's no more intimate than their nighttime cuddling, really.

"Dan," Phil says into his ear. Dan covers his own face with his hands, hiding from the softness he doesn't deserve. "Hey. Put your hands over mine, bear."

This time, Dan couldn't have possibly misheard it. There's nothing muffling Phil's voice and he's speaking directly into Dan's ear. It still doesn't seem like something that can happen, though, not right now.

Dan puts his shaking hands over each of Phil's and closes his eyes, his breaths still coming in ragged.

"That's good, there you go," says Phil. He's so soft, encouraging, warm, and it makes Dan want to start crying all over again. He digs his nails into the backs of Phil's hands a bit, but Phil doesn't complain. "You can feel me breathing against your back, right? Let's try and match it, yeah? Breathe in, one, two..."

As Phil counts and breathes deeply enough for Dan to feel the rise and fall of his chest, Dan does his best to emulate it.

By the time it's working and Dan's breath is starting to even out, Dan realizes that the breathing exercise Phil is guiding him through is his own. It's the one he brought home from therapy two years ago, the simple four-seven-eight that helped him fall asleep.

The realization makes Dan's breath hitch again. Phil makes a soft shushing noise, kisses the back of Dan's neck.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he murmurs, turning one of his hands over to link their fingers together.

"I just," says Dan. His voice feels hoarse, like he's been screaming for hours during a particularly frustrating game rather than just sobbing on his bedroom floor. "I don't know. Fuck. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Phil asks, bewildered. "What on earth are you sorry for? I'm the one who should be sorry, I was pushing you so much."

"I probably needed it." Dan sighs and rests his head back on Phil's shoulder. He smiles faintly when Phil's lips press against his cheek. "I'm usually better at. Y'know, talking. Feelings and shit. You're the one who sucks at it."

"Yeah, I do," Phil agrees easily.

Dan laughs, a little watery. "I'm having trouble with the idea that the man I fell in love with and spent a decade with is gone," he says, forcing a conversational tone so he doesn't back out of saying it. "And you're wonderful, you are, I still love you, but I keep. Waiting for you to know me."

"I do know you," Phil says softly. He's stroking over Dan's stomach with the hand not clasped in Dan's own. "Not the same way, maybe. But every day I'm here I know you a little bit better."

"I love you," says Dan, because he needs to, because the words are all he wants to say forever. "You don't have to say it back."

"Thanks," Phil hums. He kisses Dan's cheek again. "I'll wear the 'vibes' shirt if you really think I'll like it."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

Dan smiles and disentangles himself from Phil's koala grip just enough to rest on him sideways instead, his shoulder against Phil's clavicle and his legs thrown over Phil's thigh. "Hey. Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did," Phil teases. "But yes, you can ask a second question."

"So generous," Dan says dryly.

The smile Phil gives him is so open that Dan can't help smiling back, pressing their lips together for a moment.

Phil plays with his curls and holds his hand and Dan knows that, even if Phil isn't ready to say it, there's love in every motion. It's not exactly comfortable here on the floor, but Dan will manage. The conversation has the potential to be very, very important.

"The breathing thing," says Dan. "Where did you... learn that?"

"Oh," Phil says, surprised, like that's the last thing he expected Dan to ask. He thinks about it for longer than he normally would and then just gives Dan a helpless shrug. "Dunno."

Dan's heart thuds so loud he expects a complaint from their neighbours about all the noise.

"I taught you that," he tells Phil quietly.

The way Phil's face lights up makes the entire night worth it.

It's not like a dam break. It's barely like a leaky tap. Every once in a while, Phil will just know something that he can't remember learning. Dan tries not to let himself be disappointed by every day that passes where Phil doesn't look at him and think, oh, there he is, that's the man who said he'd marry me five years ago and hasn't brought it up since. Instead, Phil gives him small moments, calls Dan's family dog by name and doesn't realize he's done anything extraordinary at all. It's not enough, because Dan doesn't think anything will be enough unless Phil remembers everything, but. It's a start. And he is so fucking grateful for it.

Phil's fingers have been carding through Dan's curls absently for several episodes of Adventure Time, and Dan has completely melted into his side from the gentle attention. Their legs are tangled together where they're curled up on the sofa in each other's pyjamas and Dan's tea has long since went cold while Phil's empty mug sits beside it.

The lounge is only lit by the screen, quiet but for the tv and the sound of Phil's huffs of laughter, and Dan feels so very safe.

"I'm sorry that I fucked up the other day," he murmurs during a set of end credits, not looking away from the screen. Phil's fingers pause in their quest, but only for a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't have gotten so upset," says Dan. "I know you're doing your best."

"I am, but you're still allowed to wish things were different," Phil says, easy, like it's just a fact and not something that Dan has been wrestling with for weeks. "I don't take it personally if you do think of me as, like, two separate people. I kind of am. It sucks."

"Phil Lester, everyone," Dan hums, rubbing his thumb in circles over Phil's knee. "King of talking about his feelings. 'It sucks', 2019. Groundbreaking."

Phil giggles and presses a kiss to the side of Dan's head while shoving at him in the same breath. "Shut up, rat. Like you're any better."

"I am," Dan says, defensively.

"Really?" asks Phil. Dan imagines that an eyebrow is being raised, but he doesn't turn to confirm it.

"Yeah, really. Been to therapy for years, mate, not nearly as repressed as you."

"I'm not the one who kept everything here -" Phil taps at the centre of Dan's chest, "- until it all exploded. And it's like pulling teeth to get you to talk about yourself in a way that's not all self-deprecating and sounds like a comedy routine."

"Ooh, shots fired," says Dan, pulling Phil's hand up to his mouth to kiss each of his knuckles. He gets to Phil's ring finger and hesitates. "You asked me to marry you, y'know."

He keeps his voice quiet, casual, because he doesn't want to make a big deal out of any of this.

Phil inhales rather sharply but doesn't sound upset when he asks, "Did I? When?"

"Oh, ages ago," Dan says vaguely. "Neither of us were actually ready for it. Or maybe I wasn't ready for it and you were just an incredible boyfriend. But I said yes. Yes, but not right now. Yes but later."

"That doesn't surprise me. You procrastinate a lot."

"Hey," says Dan. There's no real protest in it. He keeps looking at the colourful, cute animation on screen and lets his newly built walls break down a little. "Yeah, I do. It was more than that, though. I was still so scared of what it would mean to be married to a man, y'know? And - have I told you about my parents?"

"Dan," says Phil. "You've told me exactly nothing about yourself unless I'm involved or you're trying to make me laugh."

That's probably true. Dan has been nervous to open up too much to Phil, so uncertain of how he reacts to things now. Not to mention how vulnerable it makes him feel to talk about himself when he knows everything about Phil.

"There's a lot I still don't want to talk about," Dan says, playing with Phil's hand. "Because I don't want to get into it all right now, you're not my therapist. But my parents' marriage wasn't working. Probably ever, to be honest, but especially around the time you asked me, because. That's the same time we were finding so much success, you and me, and my mum was actually getting - like, proud of me. For once. And he hated that, because I'm a shit son and all."

"You're not," Phil says, the interruption gentle.

"You don't know that," Dan points out. He's still smiling, though. Phil can always make him smile. "I am a bit of a shit son."

"You're not, and I know you're not," says Phil. "Because I see how you are with my parents. You've got them wrapped around your finger, y'know."

Warmth spreads through Dan's whole body, making his toes curl and his smile deepen. "Okay. Maybe I'm a shit son and maybe I'm not. Point is, me being, like, successful and happy was the nail in the fucking coffin for them. They couldn't see eye to eye on so much, and he was always - I mean, I don't talk to my dad anymore," he sums up.

"Ever?" Phil asks, and there's the genuine surprise that Dan's been so afraid of. Dan nods. After a moment, Phil makes a humming noise. "You must have a good reason for that, then. And I bet you didn't want to get married the same time your family was falling apart like that, huh?"

Dan breathes out, relief in his lungs and fondness seeping out of his very pores. "I. Yeah. I wasn't sure you'd get that."

"I do understand emotions, you know," Phil teases, kissing Dan's ear. "I'm not a robot."

"You sure?" Dan hums, leaning up to catch Phil's lips for a proper kiss. He taps Phil's lower lip with his finger once he's pulled back. "Mm, yeah, not metal."

"You're so stupid," Phil says. Affection drips off every word. "Tell me more about you, Dan. Real stuff."

And Dan does.

Dan wakes up to the smell of maple syrup and coffee, right under his nose. He blinks one of his eyes open, bleary.

"Morning, sunshine," Phil snickers, holding a plate and a mug up for Dan's sleepy inspection. "Made you breakfast. Wanna eat here?"

"Mm," Dan grunts. He rubs his palms over his face and taps his cheeks a bit, trying to wake himself up faster. He sits up with a big yawn and smiles up at Phil. "What'd I do for breakfast in bed?"

"Someone hasn't learned how to read a calendar," says Phil. He puts Dan's mug on his bedside table and hands him the plate.

"Oh," Dan says, his smile growing slowly. "It's that day, is it."

"It's that day," says Phil, dropping a kiss to the top of Dan's head. He's smiling back at Dan, his eyes crinkling with the lines that Dan loves seeing, no matter how Phil feels about them now. "I gotta go get my own waffles, I didn't wanna try and juggle."

"Probably smart of you."

"Yeah. I'll be right back, babe." Another kiss, this one to Dan's dimple.

Dimple obsession. Pet names. Wanting to be romantic. These are the things that Dan hopes will keep, if Phil is ever miraculously the same person he was Before.

Dan waits for Phil to climb into bed with him before he starts eating. He tells Phil all about it, the day that changed their lives a whole decade ago, while they sip their coffee and press their syrupy lips together.

It's a really, really, really good day.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words

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dah-knee-cuh · 7 years ago

Text

An Animal

Summary: After years of staying off the radar Y/N’s first misstep has everyone watching for their next move. A Peter Parker Fic

Trigger warnings: blood, death, swearing, violence, gun shots

Word Count : 1674 Part 1 / ? of The Vigilante Series based on this request

Walking at night with the chilling breeze and only a thin sweatshirt would cause any person to be freezing, but not Y/N. Y/N instead had adrenaline coursing through their veins to warm them up. The buzz from helping the people more than the police could fulfills Y/N. Each time they draw their claws to a criminal, seeing them scurry away in fear satisfied them nearly as much as saving those in need. The excitement that comes with every time they bear their claws outweighs nearly all the fear that Y/N won’t be able to save anyone in time. For once in their life, Y/N knows that what they’re doing is right. For once they understand why they are the way that they are: driven, broken, and unpredictable.

The night seemed peaceful, one like any other, when Y/N heard a gruff voice with their innate hearing, “How about you drop the backpack and empty your pockets so no one gets hurt.”

Slipping their mask over their mouth and throwing their hood on, Y/N runs to find the aggressor clad in gray, facing an all too familiar sight. Ned Leeds.

The two males are on an empty sidewalk surrounded by closed stores, and luckily under the few working street lights. Advancing towards Ned, he has got him held at gunpoint with nowhere to safely run.

Y/N slyly cuts across the street, moving with the shadows, and approaches the man from behind. Extending their claws, holding one against the man’s neck and the other against his back, Y/N growls, “How about you drop the pistol and you won’t get hurt, much.”

Freezing, the man moves to lower his weapon allowing Ned to be set free. Y/N watches as he gets away, but only seeing him start to cut through an alley before-

Bang.

The mugger had turned his gun enough to get a direct hit through Y/N’s stomach.

The shot cracks in the air causing multiple car alarms to sound. Y/N arms slack, losing their advantage, when all they can hear is ringing. The man grabs them in a headlock with a gun directly in their line of sight. But Y/n didn’t see the weapon, all they see is red. The red of blood when Y/N reaches and slices his hand clean off. The crimson of his cheeks when he sees his own hand tumble, staining the cement of the sidewalk, and hearing the clatter of his only defense. The brick red spreading upon his once clean sweatshirt as Y/N repeatedly pierces his torso even after he stopped squirming from underneath them.

Then all Y/N could see is their beige carpet splattered with scarlet when they shot their parents when Y/N was only seven years old. The berry red blanket that contrasted in the white cell the men in suits put them in. The cherry of the alarms that blared when Y/N disobeyed.

But the red faded when Y/N became aware of the pool of blood soaking through their pants. The ringing quieted once Y/N saw Ned’s mouth moving, but no sound was coming out.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says trying to catch their breath, “can you repeat that? I completely missed it.

“I said are you okay? You got shot if you didn’t notice,” Ned remarks slowly taking steps towards Y/N.

“Oh,” they say monotonously, “I guess I did. It’s okay, I heal fast.”

As Ned comes under the glow of the yellow streetlight, the phone pointed directly at Y/N comes to view, “Ned are you really fucking recording this?” Y/N says bewildered, emotion finally seeping through their words.

“You know my name?” He asks still not putting his phone down, “Holy shit! You know my name!”

Cautiously coming towards him and retracting their claws, Y/N requests, “I do, now can you stop recording?”

“This is a livestream, I’m not recording it. Do you still want me to end it?”

“Of course you have to be live streaming,” they mumble, “yes end the fucking video.”

“This is like the second greatest thing to ever happen to me,” he admits after turning off his phone and putting it away. His eyes focused on you and never once straying to the dead body.

“Fuck, I can’t go home like this,” Y/N mutters, “Ned, can we stop by yours and can I get a change of clothes?” Gesturing to the stained outfit.

“You’re serious? No offense but, I’m not going to let in some strange murderer into my house. Even if they did save my life,” Ned explains, “my parents would kill me.”

“Ned you know me, how do you think I know your name?” Taking off the hoodie and face mask, “It’s me, Y/N.”

“Oh shit, you’re a superhero too?”

“What do you mean too? Who else would be one?”

“No, pfft – uh – I mean like to who? The little guys or something? Or are you like a Robin Hood figure?”

Sensing that he’s lying, or at least not telling the full truth, Y/N refrains from going full interrogation mode, “Yeah, sure. I guess.”

“Cool! How come I haven’t seen anything about you online? You’d think someone who acts like an animal would get more press coverage,” he says as they walk down to his apartment building.

“Don’t call me that,” Y/N growls, “I’m not an animal.”

“Oh-ho-kay,” he stretches out.

The rest of the walk is done in silence. Ned’s too scared to say anything that might set Y/N off, while Y/N tries to shake off the feeling that something isn’t right.

As they reach the building and while they wait for the elevator to come down Ned decides to break the silence, “What are we going to do about the dead body?”

“Shit! I forgot about that,” Y/N exclaims and turns back to him wide-eyed, “You have to go back and call the police.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine, it’s late anyways and my foster parents won’t be awake so they won’t notice the blood anyways. If the cops ask why it took so long for you to call, say you were in shock or something,” Y/N explains rushing out of the building, “You’ll be fine and I’ll just see you at school okay?”

“Yeah okay?” Ned says confused turning back to look at them, only to see Y/N sprinting away faster than humanly possible.

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night, hell they couldn’t even sit still for more than two minutes. They’re more jittery than normal, not just because of the cups of caffeine they consumed to get through the day, since Ned’s livestream started to go viral. After years of staying off of everyone’s radar, blew up in Y/N’s face all because they let their emotions get the best of them. After years of trying to prove their powers didn’t define them, dissipated before their very eyes.

Throughout the day Y/N saw screenshot from the video too many times to count. School became unbearable since ‘the masked vigilante’ made an appearance.

“Hey guys,” Y/N says taking their seat at the lunch table.

“Hey Y/N,” Peter greets, “have you heard about the stabbing on Ingram street? What kind of monster goes off like that?”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure it was an act of self-defense. He did shoot them,” Y/N defends while picking at their lunch.

“I think they’re pretty dope,” MJ inputs, “they did what they felt they had to do. We can’t forget that whoever they are did save Ned’s life.”

“Thank you MJ,” Y/N says looking up from their lunch.

“All I’m saying is that a man died that night because of them. If Spider-Man was there, no one would’ve gotten hurt.”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t was he?” Y/N counters.

“Guys, come on. I think you both should just calm down and settle at the fact that both of them are great heroes okay?” Ned declares.

“Fine,” Peter says, “but if you’re calling that animal a hero then I guess Spider-Man is a villain.”

As soon as Peter called Y/N’s alter ego an animal they lost it. So without a word, Y/N just up and stormed out of the cafeteria.

Seeing the pointed look on Ned’s face, Peter asks, “Should I go after them?”

“Man, how can you not see it? Y/N-,” Ned catches himself, “Never mind, I got this.”

So Ned left the group leaving it to be just Peter and MJ.

“Hey what was that for?” Peter yelps after MJ chucks one of her baby carrots at Peter.

Scoffing, she responds, “Ned’s right you know,” before she too left Peter alone.

“I didn’t even do anything wrong!” He calls after her.

“Aye, Penis Parker!” Flash greets taking Y/N’s seat across from Peter.

Groaning he ignores Flash and eats his lunch in silence trying to figure out what he said that made Y/N so mad.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Ned yells catching them as they exit the building.

“What is it,” they say stopping, “I’m fine, I just want to go home my stomach still hurts from last night. I did get shot.”

“Are you sure that it’s not because the guy you like called you the a-word?” Ned inquires placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Y/N shakes Ned’s hand off, “I’m not even into Peter.”

“Maybe you’re right, but all I know is that you got more bothered that Peter said the a-word.”

“Wh-,”

“And how you smile extra big each time you hug Peter,” Ned interrupts.

Walking to the parking lot and hiding behind a car Y/N pulls out their suit. Well a hoodie and a mask, “I don’t want to talk about it Ned. Peter is not my biggest problem right now. Let’s just drop it for now okay?”

“Fine, but I’m not going to let it go until you admit your feelings,” Ned says.

“Deal,” they agree. “I’m just gonna bus over to Brooklyn or something where maybe somebody actually needs me.”

Seeing Ned nod, Y/N slips their mask into their pocket and grab their backpack before they head off into the streets.

A/N I hope you guys like this! This is gonna be my first multi-part series so bear with me a little haha, but I’m super excited to start this. The next couple parts will be more Peter heavy I just gotta lay the groundwork. I hope this didn’t seem too rushed, let me know what you guys think.

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