#tempted to tag dan howell

[antiphan]

I mean Dan and Phil french kiss by licking eachothers faces i'm convinced and they can't prove me wrong

[dvp95]

tempted, i know

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: explicit tags: au, a/b/o, roleplay, pwp, dirty talk, sex toys, d/s, boypussy (they’re both omegas and they’re dudes w vaginas and that’s FINE please deal with it), mild degradation, established relationship word count: 2.8k summary: Phil has never wanted an Alpha - he only wants Dan, really - but it's fun to play sometimes.

happy birthday @midnightradio ♥ i hope you enjoy this fic, chicken called it “unconscionably horny” so i hope that’s a good thing in your books! ilysm and you’re an incredible human to have in my life 

read on ao3!

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 1)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. words: 2.3k chapter: 1/? rating: t  genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn

a/n: shoutout to @auroraphilealis for helping me edit and inspiring me to finally write this fic i’ve had in my head for a year<3 [[ao3]]

“Triple espresso, one sugar. To go.”

“Sure that will be – oh. You’re Dan Howell.”

Dan’s head snapped up to meet the barista’s eyes. His unfamiliar, gorgeous eyes. “And you’re new.”

“Er, yeah. How’d you know that though?”

“I come here almost daily. I live nearby, plus it’s the only place slow enough that I rarely get recognized.” Please don’t be a crazy fan.

“Seems like the kind of thing my coworkers could have warned me about.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “Warned? That bad of a surprise, huh?”

The barista’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean it would have been nice to have a heads up so I wasn’t so surprised. It’s not like I don’t like your music or anything – I actually really enjoyed the new single you released last week and–”

“Relax,” Dan’s eyes flickered down to the cute new worker’s name tag, “Phil, I’m just kidding.”

“Oh. Good. Um…” Phil seemed to remember he was at work and had a job to do. “That will be three pound fifty.”

Dan dug his wallet out of his pocket and embarrassedly remembered he was wearing old joggers and a hoodie. What a great outfit to meet a cute guy in.

Dan shuffled down the counter, trailing Phil as he started making his coffee. The sudden appearance of a new (attractive) employee woke him up better than any triple espresso ever could.

“So, Phil, what brings you to this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop?”

Phil’s head shot up, as if he was surprised that Dan was continuing to talk with him. “Oh, you know, the usual. I just moved to London and needed a job to help pay the rent.”

“Welcome to London. Where did you move from?”

“Thanks! I just got here from Manchester last week.” Phil slid Dan’s coffee across the counter, a few drops splashing over the edge. However, instead of Dan grabbing his coffee and leaving, he leaned forward, rested his arms on the counter, and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew he should be going — he had a plenty long to do list today — but he couldn’t resist learning a bit more about Phil.

It’s just because he’s new and I come here every day. It’d be weird not to chat.

Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. All he knew about the girl who was normally working during the weekday mornings — Emma? Emily? — was that she was Irish, and that was based solely off her accent. The guy who worked on the weekends — Jake, maybe? — was incapable of putting his phone down for more than thirty seconds and smoked like a chimney.

But Phil’s new. It’d be rude not to be friendly.

“How are you liking London so far?”

“It seems like a cool city, from what I’ve seen of it. Between unpacking and working, I haven’t really had a lot of time to explore yet.”

“There’s definitely plenty to explore. What kind of stuff are you into?”

“Um, I’m a bit of a nerd, to be honest.”

Dan chuckled and wondered just how much ‘a bit’ was. If Phil was anything like him, ‘a bit’ was code for ‘completely and utterly’. “I feel you there. Have you been to the Sherlock museum?”

Phil’s eyes lit up. “No! I want to so badly though. I’ve heard it’s amazing.”

“It totally is. I swear I think I had to be dragged away the first time I went. They were literally closing when I finally left.”

Phil leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “I’ll definitely have to check it out. My friend promised to go on the Doctor Who tour with me on my next day off, so it will have to be after that though.”

“I’ve been meaning to go on that! No one in my life likes it enough to go on a two and a half hour tour with me, though, and I hate doing stuff like that alone.”

Phil nodded along like he perfectly understood what Dan was complaining about. “I know what you mean, there were so many nerdy things I wanted to do when I was living in Manchester but none of my friends there were interested in going with me.”

“That sucks. It’s good that you’ve got someone here who’ll go with you.” Dan took a sip of his coffee, taking the opportunity to study Phil’s features a bit more closely over the brim of his cup. His eyes were a striking combination of blue, green, and yellow and his jet black hair was carefully arranged in a short, borderline-outdated, emo fringe that Dan would have done anything to replicate just last year. One the whole, Cute Coffee Boy looked much more put together than Dan did. To be fair, he probably didn’t roll out of bed twenty minutes ago. “Okay, so, important question. Who’s your favorite Doctor?”

Phil looked contemplative for a moment. “Well, obviously David Tennant was great. He was both cute and played a great character. But I also kind of have a soft spot for Christopher Eccleston? He was the first person I ever saw playing the Doctor and who got me into the show, so he’ll always have a place in my heart.”

“I feel that way about David Tennant! I didn’t give in and start watching until he started — obviously I went back and caught up after watching like two episodes. Are you all caught up? I’ve been dying to talk about —”

Dan was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

Both he and Phil glanced down at his phone, which laying face up on the counter. “Louise <3” was on the caller ID. Dan shot Phil an apologetic smile and held up a finger as he answered, trying to express his annoyance at being interrupted.

“Hi Lou.”

“Daniel James Howell, I’ve been in your apartment for 20 minutes where are you?” Dan’s face fell in shame.

Oh shit. Louise. THAT’S what I was supposed to be doing.

“Er, I’m downstairs. At the coffee shop.”

“Of course you are. Get your butt up here. And bring me a coffee since I had to wait on your bum.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be there in 10.” Dan turned to Phil. “Looks like I need a venti iced soy latte with two and a half pumps of vanilla, double whip cream, and cocoa powder on top.”

Phil raised his eyebrow. “Complicated drink.”

“Complicated drink, complicated girl. I’ll take a few shots of baileys in my coffee if you’ve got any back there. I have a feeling I’m about to get yelled at for being late.”

“Ha. Ha. So you’ve got to go meet your… girlfriend?”

Dan blushed. “NO! God no! I mean – that came out harsh. Louise and I would be a train wreck. She’s my best friend. And my manager.”

Dan averted his eyes, staring into his coffee rather than at Cute Coffee Boy. The silence that fell in the coffee shop while Phil made Louise’s drink felt awkward to Dan and he really, really hoped Phil didn’t feel it too.

Unable to come up with anything to say, now that their conversation had been interrupted by Louise, Dan fiddled on his phone, liking a few tweets here and there. Both too soon and not soon enough, Phil passed him Louise’s and suddenly he had no legitimate reason for loitering. Phil handed him his receipt with a chipper “have a nice day!” and Dan awkwardly dropped his change in the tip char.

Despite having his slowly cooling coffee and Louise’s slowly melting drink, Dan was tempted to stay, to keep talking to this interesting and adorable new barista, but he knew that he couldn’t. He knew Louise would be furious if he wasn’t back in his apartment in the next five minutes, and even more so, he knew talking to a cute boy wasn’t something he was allowed to do at this moment in time.

So rather than staying and talking and just melting in the presence of this beautiful human, Dan grabbed Louise’s fancy ass drink and his own dark and bitter espresso and turned to leave. But before he could even turn around, the words just fell out of his mouth.

“I’ll see you again soon? Raincheck on that Doctor Whol conversation?”

Phil smiled and raised one hand in a stilted wave of sorts. “I’ll be here!”

Dan couldn’t tell if Phil’s response was customer service friendly, or trying to keep my fanboy in check friendly, or I actually want to see you again friendly.

Unfortunately, it seemed, Dan cared.

Dan trudged back into his lobby, nodding hello at the doorman, Mark. Trying not to dump out his drinks, he stuck his key into the elevator and pressed 7, nearly spilling his drinks anyway when the elevator started opening.

When the elevator doors opened to his apartment, Dan was immediately bombarded by Louise, who was apparently waiting in the entryway.

“Dan! I know I told you we were meeting to go over some of this publicity stuff today, where did you go?”

In response, Dan shoved her too sweet coffee into her hands, kicked his worn converse off, and walked passed her into the living room.

Louise followed him into the room, sitting in the armchair across from him. “You’re being weird, what happened?”

Dan sighed, figuring there was no use keeping anything from Louise.

“Well, you know Beans and Grind?”

Louise held up her cup, which clearly had the coffee shop’s name stamped on it. “No, no dear, never heard of it.”

“Shut up, Lou.” He took a sip of his drink, slightly stalling in hopes that Louise would bring up whatever business matters she wanted to cover.

She didn’t. She patiently drank her coffee and stared at Dan over the brim of her cup, waiting for him to continue.

“Ugh, fine Louise. There’s this new barista.”

To her credit, Louise was first and foremost always an amazing friend; she never told Dan off too severely for being reckless or stupid or making poor decisions. So rather than pointing out the millions of reasons why this discussion could lead somewhere bad, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“Tell me everything. Girl? Boy? Non-binary? I want all of the details.”

“His names Phil.” Dan paused, waiting for Louise to say something. What, he wasn’t sure, but he was positive she’d have something to say on the matter. When twenty seconds went by and Louise was still silently staring at him, waiting for more, Dan finally continued.

“He’s new, he just moved to London, he was surprisingly not fan-like once he got passed the initial ‘there’s a famous singer in my coffee shop’, and is apparently a massive nerd. I didn’t get the chance to learn too much else about him though, because somebody called demanding my presence.”

“Well, if I’d known you were making the acquaintance of a cute, new boy, maybe I wouldn’t have.”

“It was just friendly, Louise.” But even as the words came out of his mouth, Dan knew he didn’t believe them.

Fuck.

Morning coffee and gossip with Louise eventually turned into productive work time with Louise, which after a few hours turned into wine and more gossip with Louise. It was nearing 9 o’clock when the elevator let out a loud ding, indicating that someone had entered the apartment. Given Dan’s allowed visitors list, it could really only be one person.

High heels click clacked on the hardwood floor but the footsteps passed the lounge and continued further down the hallway.

“Really, Dan, this is still happening?” Dan threw a slightly startled, slightly admonishing look in Louise’s direction.

A shrill voice called loudly from the kitchen. “Ugh, Danny! I had such a bad day at work and of course you didn’t come take me out for lunch like I texted you to. Did you have your phone on, like, do not disturb or something?”

Rather than responding to the accusation, Dan turned and whispered to Louise. “Quiet or she’ll hear. Be nice, I really don’t want to fight tonight.”

The voice from the kitchen continued whining. “The girl at work was being, like, so annoying. She doesn’t understand that it’s, like, literally her job to do my errands and stuff. I mean, like—”

Louise continued talking, slightly drowning out the high-pitched complaining from the other room. “Right, unlike every single other night you’ve seen each other this month.”

“— and, like, the woman doing my nails didn’t even believe that I knew you. As if she hadn’t seen us together in the media or anything. I actually had to, like, show her my lockscreen to make her believe. When she finally got the fucking picture, she was much nicer and gave me a free—”

Dan and Louise had both mostly tuned out the diatribe against the woman from work, the manicurist, and whoever else was being complained about.

“Louise.” Dan sent her a pleading look, silently begging her to be nice, don’t provoke her, don’t lecture me.

“Fine, I’ll be polite. That still doesn’t mean I approve of you continuing this…whatever thisis.” Louise loosely gestured to the hallway toward the voice in the other room, which was still rambling at an ear-splitting pitch.

Somewhat resigned, Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Good enough.”

Just as the words left Dan’s mouth, the visitor waltzed into the living room, preceded only slightly by the tell-tale click clack of stilettos. She was wearing a tight red dress with a plunging neckline and her nails were painted to match perfectly. Her hair was styled in big, loose curls that Dan was sure probably took some hair stylist ages to achieve — and probably left a hefty charge on his account, too. The woman was sipping a bottle of Perrier she’d already taken from Dan’s fridge, leaving a thick stain of dark red lipstick around the mouth of the bottle. A bit belatedly, Dan jumped off the couch and crossed the room to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek and wrap his arm loosely around her waist.

“Hi, Isabella, I didn’t realize we had plans tonight.”

[[next chapter]]

[halethesourestwolf]

Travesty

This is for the beautiful @howellobrien. Happy Robron Appreciation Day!

We’ve never spoken, which is a shame, to be honest, because you seem like a really nice, kind person who’s got time for everyone, and the odd thing is I actually started following you the day before being assigned for this. You post so much amazing Robron content, Dylan O’Brien is in your username, and all of the Dan Howell and Phil Lester is tempting me in despite the fact that I’d never heard of these adorable idiots before. Your tag comments have been a pleasure to stalk, also, I must admit. Honestly, I see nothing but you always reaching out to others and there’s so much positivity coming from you, and I love that, this fandom is always in need of it, so thank you for bringing that to us. 

Other than writing out this post, I wasn’t really sure what to say or do, but I wanted to do something. And then I saw your post about how you like fake dating AUs, so I threw a few ideas together and ended up with this bit of fluff. Refunds are accepted, but I hope you enjoy it, and I wish you the very best Sunday, because you deserve so much more. You’re awesome. <333

Travesty

“Cut!”

All the quiet of the film set evaporates as everyone springs into action. Shouts and footfalls, rustling and scraping. The chaos is overwhelming after so much calm.

“Well, that’s another scene down,” Robert declares, “I think we did all right, don’t you?”

Have an amazing day, lovely. :* <333

[iminclinedtowriting]

Love Yourself (Chapter 1)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan's life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he's got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He's currently lacking inspiration, he's rather lonely, and he's stuck in a rut. Dan's been going to the same coffee shop for years. It's quiet, it's quaint, it's near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that's he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. words: 2.3k chapter: 1/? genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn a/n: shoutout to @snowbunnylester for helping me edit and inspiring me <3  [[ao3]]

“Triple espresso, one sugar. To go.”

“Sure that will be – oh. You’re Dan Howell.”

Dan’s head snapped up to meet the barista’s eyes. His unfamiliar, gorgeous eyes. “And you’re new.”

“Er, yeah. How’d you know that though?”

“I come here almost daily. I live nearby, plus it’s the only place slow enough that I rarely get recognized.” Please don’t be a crazy fan.

“Seems like the kind of thing my coworkers could have warned me about.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “Warned? That bad of a surprise, huh?”

The barista’s eyes grew wide. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean it would have been nice to have a heads up so I wasn’t so surprised. It’s not like I don’t like your music or anything – I actually really enjoyed the new single you released last week and–”

“Relax,” Dan’s eyes flickered down to the cute new worker’s name tag, “Phil, I’m just kidding.”

“Oh. Good. Um…” Phil seemed to remember he was at work and had a job to do. “That will be three pound fifty.”

Dan dug his wallet out of his pocket and embarrassedly remembered he was wearing old joggers and a hoodie. What a great outfit to meet a cute guy in.

Dan shuffled down the counter, trailing Phil as he started making his coffee. The sudden appearance of a new (attractive) employee woke him up better than any triple espresso ever could.

“So, Phil, what brings you to this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop?”

Phil’s head shot up, as if he was surprised that Dan was continuing to talk with him. “Oh, you know, the usual. I just moved to London and needed a job to help pay the rent.”

“Welcome to London. Where did you move from?”

“Thanks! I just got here from Manchester last week.” Phil slid Dan’s coffee across the counter, a few drops splashing over the edge. However, instead of Dan grabbing his coffee and leaving, he leaned forward, rested his arms on the counter, and took a long sip of his coffee. He knew he should be going — he had a plenty long to do list today — but he couldn’t resist learning a bit more about Phil.

It’s just because he’s new and I come here every day. It’d be weird not to chat.

Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. All he knew about the girl who was normally working during the weekday mornings — Emma? Emily? — was that she was Irish, and that was based solely off her accent. The guy who worked on the weekends — Jake, maybe? — was incapable of putting his phone down for more than thirty seconds and smoked like a chimney.

But Phil’s new. It’d be rude not to be friendly.

“How are you liking London so far?”

“It seems like a cool city, from what I’ve seen of it. Between unpacking and working, I haven’t really had a lot of time to explore yet.”

“There’s definitely plenty to explore. What kind of stuff are you into?”

“Um, I’m a bit of a nerd, to be honest.”

Dan chuckled and wondered just how much ‘a bit’ was. If Phil was anything like him, ‘a bit’ was code for ‘completely and utterly’. “I feel you there. Have you been to the Sherlock museum?”

Phil’s eyes lit up. “No! I want to so badly though. I’ve heard it’s amazing.”

“It totally is. I swear I think I had to be dragged away the first time I went. They were literally closing when I finally left.”

Phil leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. “I’ll definitely have to check it out. My roommate promised to go on the Doctor Who tour with me on my next day off, so it will have to be after that though.”

“I’ve been meaning to go on that! No one in my life likes it enough to go on a two and a half hour tour with me, though, and I hate doing stuff like that alone.”

Phil nodded along like he perfectly understood what Dan was complaining about. “I know what you mean, there were so many nerdy things I wanted to do when I was living in Manchester but none of my friends there were interested in going with me.”

“That sucks. It’s good that you’ve got someone here who’ll go with you.” Dan took a sip of his coffee, taking the opportunity to study Phil’s features a bit more closely over the brim of his cup. His eyes were a striking combination of blue, green, and yellow and his jet black hair was carefully arranged in a short, borderline-outdated, emo fringe that Dan would have done anything to replicate just last year. One the whole, Cute Coffee Boy looked much more put together than Dan did. To be fair, he probably didn’t roll out of bed twenty minutes ago. “Okay, so, important question. Who’s your favorite Doctor?”

Phil looked contemplative for a moment. “Well, obviously David Tennant was great. He was both cute and played a great character. But I also kind of have a soft spot for Christopher Eccleston? He was the first person I ever saw playing the Doctor and who got me into the show, so he’ll always have a place in my heart.”

“I feel that way about David Tennant! I didn’t give in and start watching until he started — obviously I went back and caught up after watching like two episodes. Are you all caught up? I’ve been dying to talk about —”

Dan was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

Both he and Phil glanced down at his phone, which laying face up on the counter. “Louise <3” was on the caller ID. Dan shot Phil an apologetic smile and held up a finger as he answered, trying to express his annoyance at being interrupted.

“Hi Lou.”

“Daniel James Howell, I’ve been in your apartment for 20 minutes where are you?” Dan’s face fell in shame.

Oh shit. Louise. THAT’S what I was supposed to be doing.

“Er, I’m downstairs. At the coffee shop.”

“Of course you are. Get your butt up here. And bring me a coffee since I had to wait on your bum.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be there in 10.” Dan turned to Phil. “Looks like I need a venti iced soy latte with two and a half pumps of vanilla, double whip cream, and cocoa powder on top.”

Phil raised his eyebrow. “Complicated drink.”

“Complicated drink, complicated girl. I’ll take a few shots of baileys in my coffee if you’ve got any back there. I have a feeling I’m about to get yelled at for being late.”

“Ha. Ha. So you’ve got to go meet your… girlfriend?”

Dan blushed. “NO! God no! I mean – that came out harsh. Louise and I would be a train wreck. She’s my best friend. And my manager.”

Dan averted his eyes, staring into his coffee rather than at Cute Coffee Boy. The silence that fell in the coffee shop while Phil made Louise’s drink felt awkward to Dan and he really, really hoped Phil didn’t feel it too.

Unable to come up with anything to say, now that their conversation had been interrupted by Louise, Dan fiddled on his phone, liking a few tweets here and there. Both too soon and not soon enough, Phil passed him Louise’s and suddenly he had no legitimate reason for loitering. Phil handed him his receipt with a chipper “have a nice day!” and Dan awkwardly dropped his change in the tip char.

Despite having his slowly cooling coffee and Louise’s slowly melting drink, Dan was tempted to stay, to keep talking to this interesting and adorable new barista, but he knew that he couldn’t. He knew Louise would be furious if he wasn’t back in his apartment in the next five minutes, and even more so, he knew talking to a cute boy wasn’t something he was allowed to do at this moment in time.

So rather than staying and talking and just melting in the presence of this beautiful human, Dan grabbed Louise’s fancy ass drink and his own dark and bitter espresso and turned to leave. But before he could even turn around, the words just fell out of his mouth.

“I’ll see you again soon? Raincheck on that Doctor Whol conversation?”

Phil smiled and raised one hand in a stilted wave of sorts. “I’ll be here!”

Dan couldn’t tell if Phil’s response was customer service friendly, or trying to keep my fanboy in check friendly, or I actually want to see you again friendly.

Unfortunately, it seemed, Dan cared.

Dan trudged back into his lobby, nodding hello at the doorman, Mark. Trying not to dump out his drinks, he stuck his key into the elevator and pressed 7, nearly spilling his drinks anyway when the elevator started opening.

When the elevator doors opened to his apartment, Dan was immediately bombarded by Louise, who was apparently waiting in the entryway.

“Dan! I know I told you we were meeting to go over some of this publicity stuff today, where did you go?”

In response, Dan shoved her too sweet coffee into her hands, kicked his worn converse off, and walked passed her into the living room.

Louise followed him into the room, sitting in the armchair across from him. “You’re being weird, what happened?”

Dan sighed, figuring there was no use keeping anything from Louise.

“Well, you know Beans and Grind?”

Louise held up her cup, which clearly had the coffee shop’s name stamped on it. “No, no dear, never heard of it.”

“Shut up, Lou.” He took a sip of his drink, slightly stalling in hopes that Louise would bring up whatever business matters she wanted to cover.

She didn't. She patiently drank her coffee and stared at Dan over the brim of her cup, waiting for him to continue.

“Ugh, fine Louise. There’s this new barista.”

To her credit, Louise was first and foremost always an amazing friend; she never told Dan off too severely for being reckless or stupid or making poor decisions. So rather than pointing out the millions of reasons why this discussion could lead somewhere bad, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“Tell me everything. Girl? Boy? Non-binary? I want all of the details.”

“His names Phil.” Dan paused, waiting for Louise to say something. What, he wasn’t sure, but he was positive she’d have something to say on the matter. When twenty seconds went by and Louise was still silently staring at him, waiting for more, Dan finally continued.

“He’s new, he just moved to London, he was surprisingly not fan-like once he got passed the initial ‘there’s a famous singer in my coffee shop’, and is apparently a massive nerd. I didn’t get the chance to learn too much else about him though, because somebody called demanding my presence.”

“Well, if I’d known you were making the acquaintance of a cute, new boy, maybe I wouldn’t have.”

“It was just friendly, Louise.” But even as the words came out of his mouth, Dan knew he didn’t believe them.

Fuck.

Morning coffee and gossip with Louise eventually turned into productive work time with Louise, which after a few hours turned into wine and more gossip with Louise. It was nearing 9 o’clock when the elevator let out a loud ding, indicating that someone had entered the apartment. Given Dan’s allowed visitors list, it could really only be one person.

High heels click clacked on the hardwood floor but the footsteps passed the lounge and continued further down the hallway.

“Really, Dan, this is still happening?” Dan threw a slightly startled, slightly admonishing look in Louise’s direction.

A shrill voice called loudly from the kitchen. “Ugh, Danny! I had such a bad day at work and of course you didn’t come take me out for lunch like I texted you to. Did you have your phone on, like, do not disturb or something?”

Rather than responding to the accusation, Dan turned and whispered to Louise. “Quiet or she’ll hear. Be nice, I really don’t want to fight tonight.”

The voice from the kitchen continued whining. “The girl at work was being, like, so annoying. She doesn’t understand that it’s, like, literally her job to do my errands and stuff. I mean, like—”

Louise continued talking, slightly drowning out the high-pitched complaining from the other room. “Right, unlike every single other night you’ve seen each other this month.”

“— and, like, the woman doing my nails didn’t even believe that I knew you. As if she hadn’t seen us together in the media or anything. I actually had to, like, show her my lockscreen to make her believe. When she finally got the fucking picture, she was much nicer and gave me a free—”

Dan and Louise had both mostly tuned out the diatribe against the woman from work, the manicurist, and whoever else was being complained about.

“Louise.” Dan sent her a pleading look, silently begging her to be nice, don’t provoke her, don’t lecture me.

“Fine, I’ll be polite. That still doesn’t mean I approve of you continuing this...whatever this is.” Louise loosely gestured to the hallway toward the voice in the other room, which was still rambling at an ear-splitting pitch.

Somewhat resigned, Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Good enough.”

Just as the words left Dan’s mouth, the visitor waltzed into the living room, preceded only slightly by the tell-tale click clack of stilettos. She was wearing a tight red dress with a plunging neckline and her nails were painted to match perfectly. Her hair was styled in big, loose curls that Dan was sure probably took some hair stylist ages to achieve — and probably left a hefty charge on his account, too. The woman was sipping a bottle of Perrier she’d already taken from Dan’s fridge, leaving a thick stain of dark red lipstick around the mouth of the bottle. A bit belatedly, Dan jumped off the couch and crossed the room to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek and wrap his arm loosely around her waist.

“Hi, Isabella, I didn’t realize we had plans tonight.”

[themessafterthemarty]

The Temptation

A Dan and Phil fanfiction

(COVER)

Summary: 

A re-telling of "The Urge" by Dan Howell.

In which Dan has already written that story.

Tags: Angst, grief/mourning, (ambiguously) happy ending, vampire/ghost/general undead, questionable sanity, bromance or romance it’s up to you bros Warnings: Death is major theme. Average Dan-levels of strong language. Note: Jumps a bit into the action to avoid just outright plagiarizing the first page.

Synopsis of ‘The Urge’: Phil dies, and Dan is heartbroken. However, Phil wakes up after his funeral, and Dan freaks out, claiming he's not the real Phil, while Phil says he wasn't killed but turned into a vampire, and Dan says he's just a demon possessing Phil's body. Against Dan's will, Phil turns him so, in his words, nothing has to change - just their diets. Dan wakes up as a vampire, and they go out for lunch. (ao3)

The next day was to be Phil's funeral. Dan had no interest in going. His friendship with Phil was personal to him and not something he wanted to share with family and friends who would mean well but insult with every word of comfort. He decided that even if he had to attend physically, he would be somewhere else in his mind. He had to.

Dan remained silent and stoic through the service. People left to return to their lives, the relatives trading condolences, leaving Dan alone in the room with the coffin.

He didn’t want to look. If he looked, it’d be real. He would rather have ran far, far away from the nightmare he was trapped in, but maybe that was exactly why he had to see. His desperate mind would do anything to pretend none of it was real, would do anything to fill the pain of the real world with some pleasant fantasy, and he had to stick to reality.

He strode over and gazed into the box. Lifeless. It was as if it was nothing but an object lying there. Even with Phil’s typically pale skin you used to see the warm glow of life from within him. Now all that could be seen there was the sickly pale-green colour of death.

Dan turned abruptly and strode away, before a voice stopped him mid-step.

“Don’t go.”

He froze completely. A part of him was screaming at him to run, to run as far as he could in as little time as possibly, and to start now.

Now.

The other part of him was inexplicitly filled with something that could only be described as anger, and that might be what kept him standing exactly where he was.

“It’s okay,” Phil’s voice came from behind him.

“Who are you?” Dan asked slowly.

Laughter. It didn’t sound right to Dan. “You know who I am. Looking away from the obvious part where there is no one else here, even though it’s a really weird situation – I mean, you can hear it’s me, right?”

“Hear it’s who?” Dan said, no emotion in his voice.

“Just turn around and look at me, then-“

“Hear. It’s. Who?” Dan repeated carefully, biting every word.

A sigh. “Phil.”

“That’s impossible. Phil’s dead.” The words hurt something deep within him, but he couldn’t run away from them. It was the truth.

“Look, I know it’s really, really weird, but I swear, it’s me!”

“No.”

“But Dan-“

“SHUSH!” Dan whipped around with a ferocious look in his eye, finger pointing directly at something that really, painfully looked exactly like the body he had looked at just seconds before, but that should not be standing in front of him.

“I’m-”

“You’re NOT Phil!” Dan spat out, taking a step closer to the figure in front of him, his tone inviting no challenges. “YOU’RE NOT EVEN REAL!”

Phil looked at him, confused. “I’m standing right here, Dan, I’m right in front of you!”

“No you’re not.” Dan’s hands fell to his sides, and the stoic look returned to his face.

“Dan, I promise you, I’m real! I can’t explain it, I don’t know what happened, it was all really confusing, I can’t even figure out my own head right now much less how I got here or how I should explain it-“

“Oh, really? How convenient.”

Phil was looking thoroughly perplexed now. “What makes you so suspicious about me even being here? I get that I can’t explain it and it’s all really bizarre, but if you can’t even believe this-“

“You’re not real.”

“Why do you keep saying that? I’m right here!”

The huff of laughter that came from Dan’s mouth would have sounded to no one like an expression of amusement, just like the smile on his face would have looked to no one like an expression of joy. The tears pressing on his eyes were clear as day to anyone looking. “Because I’ve already written this story.”

Phil frowned. “What?”

“I’ve already written this story. For TABINOF – the phanfiction, remember?”

“What? That’s not true, it’s not the same-“

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, when you never even let me finish a sentence, that doesn’t give me much room to explain anything, does it?”

“Well, I’m just interrupting myself, aren’t I?” Dan countered, the mockery of a smile not reaching his eyes.

Phil threw his hands up in exasperated defeat. “What are you on about?”

The question echoed in the room unanswered. Sad brown eyes studied the motionless figure by the coffin – the suit that was too smooth and unwrinkled, the skin that was too pale, the eyes that just weren’t right somehow. He turned away again, the sight making his stomach turn, but even with his back to the impossible creature he could not ignore the silence in the room, empty except for his own breathing that lacked the echo that should have come from behind him.

“You know,” he began, telling himself he was only filling the silence, a part of him wondering why he didn’t just walk out the door instead. “When I first showed that story to Phil, he thought it was a horror story.”

His eyes flitted around the room, like there was a chance he’d find some comfort if he looked long enough.

“He thought it had a bad ending, like it was a bad turn of events, because of how much I resisted in it, because the demon possessing his body had won. Since I’d resisted his advances at every turn until the very end, and just generally…. showed how much I didn’t want it, how I didn’t for a second think it was him. And yet I was still turned, and I had eternity as a vampire ahead of me, with the deceptive monster that turned me.”

The warmth behind his eyes had spilled over. He knew he was crying now.

“But that was never a horror story. Far from it.” Every word seemed to get stuck in his throat but he worked them out of it. He tasted warm, salty tears. “All the horror of it was in the first few paragraphs.” He swallowed. “The horror was him being dead in the first place.” The words were still hurting like hell, but he couldn’t ignore them, he couldn’t. He couldn’t run from it. He couldn’t let himself.

“Now, this?” he said, turning back around and gesturing at the deceptive figure who’d apparently walked a few steps closer while he’d talked. “This right here,” he whispered, choking back a sob, “This is my fucking dream scenario.”

The look of confusion in the thing’s eyes softened.

“This isn’t the problem. This,” he said, stepping forward and pointing to the point right between the light blue eyes. “is the fucking solution to my ultimate nightmare.”

The figure looked taken aback by this. “So … why did you resist it? In the story, I mean,” he asked quietly. “You wrote it, after all, and you didn’t seem very happy in it.”

“Because of countless reasons!” Dan threw his hands up in aggravation. “How the hell would I know it was actually you, not just some demon imitating you? You’ve watched Buffy more than I have, you know that’s totally possible! We know fuck-all about vampires in real life, because as far as we know, they don’t bloody exist! And why the fuck would I want eternal life – much less eternal life where I didn’t even know if I was myself or if you were yourself? I knew nothing about what was going on or what was happening, only that you were dead and I wasn’t and something that looked an awful lot like you apparently wanted to change this and gave me no choice in the matter and it was kind of a really fucking scary situation!”

There was a pause as the last remains of Dan’s shouts echoed in the room. The figure of Phil only looked more confused.

“So, then…” it asked as quietly as before. “How is that – this – your… dream scenario?”

Dan just looked at it – him, it, whatever. With tears still trickling down his face, he just looked at the figure standing between him and the coffin that to him was like the elephant in the room. He looked at the blue eyes, dark blue in the soft light, that looked so much like the eyes he so dearly wanted to look into. He looked at the jet-black hair, at a fringe gap he wanted to reach out and fix, at the pale skin that was just barely on the wrong side of yellow, at the lips that should always be smiling but instead were tinged purple. He looked at the suit he’d seen in Phil’s closet more times than he’d seen him actually wear it. He looked back into blue eyes that still looked back at him in confusion.

“Because this,” he whispered, gesturing at the whole figure he’d just so closely examined. “despite all it’s flaws, despite everything horrifying and scary and unknown about it…. It would’ve been a chance, and that… This is so… this is such an infinitely more tempting option than…” He waved his arm in the general direction of the coffin he struggled to look directly at anymore, despite it being placed too high up for him to see anything but the side of a box of painted wood. “That.”

The Phil figure followed Dan’s gesturing to look at the coffin behind him, like he’d forgotten it was there. “That?”

“That,” Dan repeated.

“What do you mean?” He turned back to look confused at Dan again.

Dan looked at him incredulously. “You’re kidding?”

The look didn’t change.

“There’s another… Phil’s in there. A Phil I didn’t make up in my head. The real Phil. The….” He swallowed, the damn words once again hurting every part of him on the way out of his throat. “The dead Phil.”

The figure raised its eyebrows. “Is he now?”

Dan frowned. “Yes, he is.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just saw him in it a few minutes ago, and he was, y’know…” He huffed in annoyance, giving up on trying to bring those words out again. “He wasn’t exactly in a state to move.”

“But you don’t know he’s still in there.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. You said he ‘wasn’t’ – you’re not even sure yourself, are you?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” Dan wasn’t sure what he expected, but somehow it wasn’t that the figure would listen. The was a minute of eye contact before it spoke up again. “Why do you keep insisting I’m dead if you don’t even want me to be? If you’d rather have me here,” It tilted its head and stepped closer to Dan. “Why won’t you accept that I am?”

“You’re. Not. Real.” Dan squeezed his eyes shut. This whole debacle was pulling at too many painful strings.

“And this dead Phil is?” 

The word wouldn’t stop hurting. They made him want to start screaming and never stop until they stopped existing. “Yes,” he whispered.

He heard no response for too long, and opened his eyes to a doubtful look from the other man.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, he’s right there!” He gave in and in a couple of long steps was once again by the coffin’s side, a long arm gesturing at its contents.

It came as a surprise to him how surprised he was to see the body in the coffin. It hit him like a punch in the gut, even though it had no reason to, and he looked away and closed his eyes immediately for fear of either throwing up or just breaking down crying if he spent too long staring at what looked like a morbid wax-replica of his best friend. He already knew it was there. He didn’t understand why it shocked him so much.

“He’s right…” he choked out, now less frustrated and more simply suffering. He couldn’t finish the sentence. Gritting his teeth together, he looked back at where Phil’s living figure had been standing, but was faced with nothing but an empty room. Again he was surprised at his own surprise, and his crushing disappointment. No, this was good. He was back in reality, where he needed to be.

Reality is good. Phil was dead.

The words didn’t seem right. The more he tried to repeat it to himself, the more it hurt. His breathing was slowly becoming more and more rapid as the words fluttered past his lips in constant repetition and the world closed in on him and his legs couldn’t support him anymore and the words, the words, the damn words weren’t right, they weren’t right-

“Is he?”

Dan’s eyes flew open again. He’d somehow ended up on his knees and his arms were hugging his waist but more importantly there was a pair of fancily clad legs in front of him.

“Am I actually?”

Dan looked up into Phil’s eyes. Before even granting him an expression, Dan got up and turned to look in the coffin again. It was empty. He slowly turned back to Phil. “You’re not real,” he said slowly.

“Aren’t I? I feel quite real to me.” And the rosy pink smile, and the joking glint in his bright blue eyes and the crinkles around them… it was so, so painfully familiar.

He looked back at the coffin, and was startled to see something, something was there, but then it wasn’t. He continued to stare at it for a while, wide-eyed. Nothing appeared. Footsteps approached him from behind, but his eyes remained glued to the empty coffin, expecting something to show up in it. It really was a much more pleasant sight without something in it. However, it was still unnerving him, and something in him suffered at the sight.

He drew a sharp breath as he felt a hand lay comfortingly on his shoulder. His eyes finally shifted away from the coffin and to Phil on his side. “You’re … not real,” he whispered, frowning, with less conviction than before.

Phil hummed. “That’s actually entirely possible,” he agreed. “But you can’t tell the difference, can you?”

Dan didn’t reply. He just looked. There wasn’t any good answer he could give.

“So does it really matter?”

Dan still said nothing, and instead looked back at the coffin. Slowly, he lifted his arm so his hand hovered over where Phil’s chest would have been if he lay there. Assuming he wasn’t completely out of it, his mind couldn’t empty the space completely, could it? He’d feel something there, or there’d at least be some kind of disturbance as his mind tried to work around his hand landing on something, on, on…

His fingers curled in distaste at the very thought.

All he had to do was lower his hand, and he’d know. He’d see something. He’d feel something. If… there was something there. If Phil actually, truly, in reality was…

He pulled his hand back. He hardly noticed he did, but before he knew it, it was back at his side. His face remained expressionless as he simply took a moment to breathe. His eyes didn’t leave the empty coffin.

Then, before Phil could ask what he was doing, he turned and walked towards the exit. Before he’d reached the door, he stopped. He turned back to look at Phil, still standing by the coffin, looking at Dan questioningly.

“Well?” Dan asked.

Phil raised his eyebrows, and then cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well what?”

“You coming or what, slowpoke? I haven’t got all day.” It was a lie. He did have all day. He had all week. He had all month. He would have waited all that time if he needed to. He had nothing more important waiting.

Phil’s questioning look was replaced with a smile so bright one could with a single look understand why some called him the very essence of sunshine, and he ran with light steps over to Dan's side.

The sight flooded Dan’s cold, empty chest with a wave of warmth, and finally, he felt like he could breathe again. A/N: This is the first time I've finished and posted a fanfiction or basically any kind of creative writing in about six years if my calculations are correct. While that is no big deal to anyone else, I'm just going to go back to hiding now until my breathing returns to normal. I hope you have a lovely day!

[danandphilsecretsanta]

End Up Here

To: @prickkly

From: Your Secret Santa

I had fun writing this, and because of reasons (1. I’m lame and 2. I’m lame) this fic is based off of the song End Up Here by 5sos, which you may choose to listen to or not, up to you. I am thinking about writing a second part for the second part of the song but who knows - for now I hope you enjoy this! (includes one OC named Eleanor who is the bartender bc I needed a bartender and I like that name) (also contains one Thoroughly Modern Millie reference)

Phil isn’t the kind of person who goes to parties, ever. But his friend Louise insists he needs to get out more, promises him “a good time or your money back” (actual quote) and says she’ll even buy him donuts the following morning if worst comes to worst.

“It’s my friend’s 25th birthday, and she wanted a huge blowout sort, as celebration for surviving a quarter of her life, you know? She told me I could bring a friend,” Louise says. “I’m sure she meant boyfriend — she nudged me and winked — but I haven’t got one and I’d rather not be alone, and plus,” she pokes his shoulder, “we have to hang out more.”

“But at a party, Louise?” Phil says, even though he knows and she knows that he’s going to agree. Louise gets what she wants, and Phil has never been able to say no to her.

She fixes him with a pleading look, and he sighs. “Let me change my shirt.”

She grins.

The lights change colors way too quickly to register. Red, blue, purple, green, white, rinse and repeat. Phil groans, nursing his second gin and tonic, which tastes like subdued fire and floor. He leans against the wall and his eyes close of their own accord.

Louise fits right in; she’s the life of the party, dancing with everyone and chatting them up. Phil retreated to a corner half an hour ago. His ears are pounding and probably broken; who picked this music? No hate to Iggy Azalea, but really?

He opens his eyes, lets them unfocus and scan the dance floor. People are flocking together now, and Phil swallows the last of his drink and cranes his neck. It’s a person they’re crowding, and Phil can’t see them very well. He gets to his feet to get another drink from the bar.

Slowly people disperse, and Phil gets a better look at the guy as he signals the bartender to refill his drink. He can understand, now, why they surrounded him like bees to honey: he’s undeniably gorgeous.

The bartender slides Phil’s drink across the counter and Phil inquires, “Um, do you know who that is?”

A long shot, but the bartender — her name tag reads Eleanor — follows his extended finger and grins. She’s young, and her hair falls over her eyes. “Dan Howell,” she says. A pretty name for a pretty boy. “I guess he’s like…as close to a celebrity as a normal person can get, especially for doing virtually nothing. He just exists and people like him. He’s…distant. I dunno.” She shrugs. “I’ve only talked to him to get his drink order.”

Phil gazes at him. Smiling loftily, a graceful spring in his step, fingers pushing his hair back into a quiff that barely lasts before falling onto his forehead. Phil sighs.

“I don’t go out a lot,” he admits. “Does everyone here know him?”

“Well, he’s here quite a bit, and there are rumors about him, but I don’t know him personally so I couldn’t tell you,” Eleanor says, leaning over the bar. “Supposedly, he sleeps around and doesn’t talk much — well, that last one I know is true. He’s hot enough that he doesn’t have to, I guess.”

This is just fact: the evasive Dan Howell is very hot, and with two drinks in his system, going to speak to him seems as tempting as it is risky. Phil gets tongue-tied with pretty boys.

“Fair enough,” he says instead to Eleanor. “Thanks.”

She nods and he takes his drink, and she smiles at him as she returns to wiping down the counter. Phil reclaims his corner.

His eyes track Dan Howell around the room, catching his every move: he seems to just float past people, and only opens his mouth to speak twice. Phil sips his drink, and it doesn’t burn down his throat anymore.

He exhales deeply. His glass fogs up. There are way too many lights and noises and people here. The floor is cold and it’s seeping through his jeans.

He struggles to find Dan Howell for a minute in the throngs of people, and draws his eyebrows together, looking for his face.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, he materializes directly in front of Phil.

Phil’s eyes go wide as he presses his spine against the wall, willing it to swallow him up. Dan Howell is so much prettier up close. He’s holding a drink, and it’s half empty, but it looks like the same one Phil has in his hand, which he is gripping tight like a lifeline.

“Hi,” Dan Howell says, his eyes sparkling. “I like your shirt.”

Phil blinks and looks down at his old Muse t-shirt from 2010. He’d bought it big back then so it would fit him now. He takes a quick, nervous drink, and then says, “Thanks.”

“Did you go to that concert?” Dan Howell asks, and then, of all things, he sits. In the corner, facing Phil with a look of interest. Phil feels weak. He nods.

“I’ve been to, um, three Muse shows,” he manages, though his mouth is filled with dust.

Dan Howell’s face lights up with amiable envy. “Damn, really? I’ve been to one — 2012, New York City. It was awesome, though.”

“Yeah, Phil agrees. He tips the remains of his drink down his throat.

Dan is quiet for a moment. “Gin and tonic?” he guesses, gesturing toward the empty glass in Phil’s hand. Phil swallows and nods, and Dan raises his glass. “Me too.”

“Nice,” Phil says. The tightness in his chest is loosening slowly. “What — what’s your name?”

“Dan,” he says, and doesn’t offer a last name. “Yours?”

“Phil,” Phil says.

“Nice to meet you, Phil,” Dan says, and holds out his hand to shake. Phil tilts his head, and takes it hesitantly. He has a firm handshake and a very nice smile. Phil feels something flip his heart over.

An hour flies past in a second. Dan is telling him about the pros and cons of him getting a dog.

“I’ve never had any dogs,” Phil tells him. “I did have a hamster once. I bred him, actually.”

Dan laughs a beautiful sound. “Fascinating,” he says, dry humor. “How was that?”

“They were very cute.”

“I’m sure.” Dan glances around and Phil follows his eyes. They’ve been entirely left alone the whole evening and Phil wonders if spending time with him made Dan invisible, because how is that even possible? Dan wonders the same, out loud. “This corner is great. No one can see you.”

“How did you see me, then?” Phil challenges.

Dan glances back at him and grins. “Must’ve been looking.”

Phil blushes.

“Hey,” Dan says, “do you wanna get out of here? I’m…it’s loud, and I’m bored of it, to be honest.”

Phil blinks. “Actually, yes. That would be great.”

“Fantastic,” Dan says, standing. He holds a hand out to Phil, who takes it and pulls himself to his feet.

“I should tell my friend, though,” Phil remembers, thinking of Louise. He spots her across the floor, her hair slightly disheveled, giggling with some other girl. The friend whose party this is. Phil doesn’t even know her name. “Well…I’ll text her.”

Dan chuckles. “We can go to my place, it’s nearby and I have water and blankets.”

“I don’t have a car,” Phil says cautiously.

Dan shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, can’t drive. It’s close, though, we can walk.”

Walking feels safe. And Phil is comfortable with Dan, like he’s an old friend, almost. He trusts Dan.

They slip out the back door and the chill of the outside sweeps over Phil. He shivers, and Dan wordlessly shrugs off his jacket and offers it to Phil.

He glances at Dan, who looks expectant. “Thank you,” he says, taking the jacket and wrapping it around him. It smells like something clean and vaguely like cinnamon. Like Dan.

Outside, it smells like winter. “Did you ever notice,” Phil begins as they fall into step leisurely down the sidewalk, “that it’s colder before it snows than when it actually snows?”

He pulls the jacket tighter and breathes out. It appears in a foggy puff in front of him.

“Yeah, I like how it smells,” Dan says thoughtfully. “Snow. Or right before it snows, I mean. Like metal, kind of.”

Phil nods. They walk quietly, taking in the city, Phil taking deep breaths of the fresh air.

“Hey, you know what’s a great song?” Dan says suddenly.

“Madness?” Phil suggests, and Dan grins.

“Yeah, that, but I was thinking of that song — Livin’ on a Prayer, you know,” he says.

“Bon Jovi?” Phil says incredulously. Dan nods. “You know, I’d have never pegged you for a Bon Jovi kinda guy.”

Dan chuckles. “Wow, okay. What kinda guy do you peg me as, then?”

Phil pretends to think for a moment. “Taylor Swift, maybe. Or One Direction.”

“I love One Direction,” Dan says approvingly. Phil laughs. He feels comfortable here, walking on the sidewalk (and secretly avoiding the cracks) and talking with Dan. He almost unconsciously leans into the other man, and Dan reaches out and entwines his fingers with Phil’s naturally.

Phil’s breath catches in his throat.

It starts to snow.

~end~

[[~for now probably we’ll see where this goes~]]

[frihed-liberty]

Tagged Again

Wow thanks @adorkablephil I’d love to get to know you better as well! I feel special now! Haha

Rules: Tag 20 blogs you’d like to get to know better.

Nicknames: My name is Alice so people mostly call me that. Sometimes I’m called Ali, Al or AC. My super nice online friend @hey-you598​ calls me Senpai which i kinda love haha. My girlfriend calls me all sorts but mostly Minion *hearteyes*. When I was younger I used to go by the name Kristian for a while.

Zodiac sign: Virgo

Height: 187 cm (6′1″ I guess?)

Last Thing You Googled: Technically my last search was: “187 cm to inches and feet” Before that it was: “phil lester jumpers” cause I needed to look at something for the fic I’m currently writing.

Favourite music artist: Oh, difficult to pick just one but I think I’ll go with The Libertines who were also my first real fandom (Carl Barat/Peter Doherty) and I met my girlfriend of 10 years through that fandom. Their music is amazing and I’m so happy they’re back together!

Song stuck in my head: Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life by Monty Python (I blame easter!)

Last Movie you watched:  The Falls: Covenant of Grace. It’s the third film in The Falls trilogy that’s about gay Mormons. I enjoyed the first two more tbh! 

What are you wearing right now: Black t-shirt that says “excuse me while i fangirl” in white writing that’s kinda faded. Black skinny jeans. Panda socks. White bra. Black undies. Red glasses.

Why did you choose your URL: Ugh. The folly of youth. I was as mentioned above a HUGE (and still am) The Libertines fan and frihed means liberty in Danish. So essentially my url is liberty-liberty. I don’t love it but it’s been the same or almost the same ever since my MySpace and LiveJournal days back in the earlier 2000′s (cept for some places like Instagram and such where it’s forgiven_in_a_song) so I’m stuck with it now like danisnotonfire (I felt tempted to write it as Dan Is Not On Fire just to annoy him, but it’s not like he’d see anyway haha. I think *shifty eyes* You stalking me Dan Howell????)

Do you have any other blogs: on tumblr i only have this and @phanfic-i-like which is my tumblr phanfic rec blog. I might start others at some point...

What Did Your Last Relationship Teach You: Even if trust doesn’t come easy to you, if you’re with the right person then it’s worth it!

Religious Or Spiritual: Neither really. I guess you could say fangirling is my religion lmao

Favourite Colour: oh, i find this one so difficult cause I love all colours. I’m an artist and I believe that they’re all important. But I guess I’ll go with black and white as shade and light is the most important to perceive depth and shapes! Also I’m the kind of person who fluctuates a lot between happy rainbow and bleak blackness! My least fave colours are probably orange and yellow.

Average Hours Of Sleep: There’s no average. Often I get none or just 2. But then other times I might sleep like 18 hours in one go. I’m not a balanced sleeper and I’m usually up at night...

Lucky Number: 4 - I’m not sure why but funny fact when I met my girlfriend (back when we were both 18 and still lived at our parent’s homes) we both lived in #4 on our streets. Different countries of course but still... 

Favorite characters: wow, so many. I don’t even... I think I’ll skip this one... too much typing haha

How Many Blankets Do You Sleep With: Just one feather duvet. In the summer I’ll probably kick it off. I’m always warm.

Dream Job: Professional Fangirl lmao

People I tag:

@mmixhowell @super-nova1113 @didyoujustcallmenormall @agingphangirl @thesortinghatputmeinphandom @inlovewith-humanity @god-damn-snow-white @philzeyelash @dandle-by-dan @ifeelspecial @lyokon @rockabillyactress @octolevi @the-tol-one @kissyphil @hey-you598 @nixswhiskers @clear-sky-howell @lanamoon21 @daniisdoingart

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (9)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.1k (this chapter), 29.6k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

The sleep Phil has is restless and patchy. He wakes up so many times, spikes of panic cutting through the calm as he tries to remember where he is and who's breathing next to him. Dan is either a very heavy sleeper or very good at pretending to sleep, because Phil jerking awake never makes them stir.

It's a comfort, to look at Dan and see their blurry face slack with a peacefulness that wasn't there all night, but Phil doesn't do it for too long. Watching someone sleep is the pinnacle of creepiness. He just looks for a couple of seconds until his heart rate slows back down and he can roll onto his side. He faces away from Dan so he isn't tempted to keep looking at them, staring at the boring wall instead and waiting for sleep to momentarily take him again.

He's still tired when he wakes up properly to Dan tossing and turning, but he decides that's his cue to be awake.

"Hey," he murmurs, reaching for Dan's hand. He squints, but he can't tell if Dan is having a nightmare or if they're awake without getting even closer to their face. "It's okay. You're okay."

Dan takes a deep, shuddering sort of breath and cradles Phil's hand in both of their own. It's like they're afraid he's going to let go. "Sorry, fuck."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," says Phil. His stomach is doing a weird twisty thing at the sound of Dan's voice all husky with sleep. As long as he acts normal, it's fine, right? It's hard to convince himself of that when Dan's hands are pressed to his own and making him feel impossibly small. "How did you sleep?"

"I mostly slept fine," Dan says, and Phil nods like he didn't already know that.

"Good. You needed it."

For a moment, Dan is quiet. Then, they shuffle onto their side so they can properly face Phil, who has to fight the urge to hide away from their gaze. It's a good thing that he can't see the depth and warmth and sparkle of Dan's eyes without his glasses on.

"You didn't sleep very well," they say like it's a fact. Phil doesn't bother trying to deny it, he just shrugs. "You could have woken me up."

"Why would I do that?" Phil asks, puzzled by the offer.

Dan smiles, and Phil reaches for his glasses. He feels so vulnerable without them, and the sensation of not being able to see the way Dan is smiling while Dan can probably read every tiny emotion on his face is anxiety-inducing.

He leaves his other hand in Dan's. Maybe it would be easier if he just let go, but he finds that he doesn't want to.

The world comes into focus, and Phil blinks over at Dan like it's his first time seeing them. They look so different with their lashes clumped together and lines creased into their soft cheeks by the pillow. Curls are in complete disarray, and Phil presses his fingers into his palm so he doesn't try to brush the frizzy, unruly mess off Dan's forehead. Their smile doesn't fade when Phil just kind of stares - if anything, it gets even wider.

"You stayed with me all night," says Dan. Their tone is dry, but Phil imagines there's not a small amount of sincerity behind it. "You didn't have to, like, be alone."

Alone isn't something Phil had felt at all. Dan's steady breathing and the warmth of them emanating from their core even when they weren't touching were the only things keeping Phil grounded every time he woke with a start. He doesn't know how to say that to this person he barely knows, though, wouldn't know how to say something so open to most of the people in his life, so he just chuckles.

"No use in neither of us getting any sleep," he points out.

Dan is very warm, and Phil can feel his palm starting to get sweaty where it's trapped between both of theirs. He makes an apologetic face and pulls his hand back, patting it on his flannel pyjamas. Dan doesn't seem bothered by the lack of contact, but they also don't seem relieved - Phil can't tell what they're thinking at all, if he's honest.

"So," says Dan. "Where do we go from here?"

Before Phil can even think about it, he echoes the question in falsetto. It's louder and more obnoxious than he intends it to be. He swings his legs out of bed and reaches for his phone on the nightstand to try and hide a blush. "Uh, we go eat breakfast. Lunch, I guess."

"You lied," Dan says to his back. "You are always thinking about Buffy."

"Not always," Phil says weakly.

"Often enough."

"Once More With Feeling bypasses my brain entirely. It's just a primal call and response to anyone as obsessed with the show as teenage me was."

"I've never seen the show the whole way through," says Dan. "But Buffy is a style icon of mine."

Phil's tired brain offers him a half dozen mental images of Dan in various Buffy outfits before he shakes his head to try and clear it. He's never been particularly interested in boys wearing girls' clothes, but the concepts of gender identity and presentation are so blurry when it comes to Dan that he's going to have to rethink that position. They're not 'girls' clothes' on Dan. Maybe there's no such thing as 'girls' clothes' at all.

It's too early in the day for a deep dive on his own perceptions of gender, though. He thinks that sort of existentialism can wait until after his second or third coffee.

--

Phil's parents eat lunch with them and do their best to make small talk, but only Chris is On enough to properly converse with them. At Phil's umpteenth 'huh' of the early afternoon, they give up entirely and migrate to the lounge to watch tv.

For a long few seconds, the kitchen table is quiet. Then, Dan stands and starts to clear everyone's plates.

"You don't have to do that," Phil says, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I need to do something with my hands or I'll lose the plot," says Dan. They dump the dishes carefully in the sink and start running water. Having their back to the group seems to give them the courage to add, "I don't have all my meds with me. I didn't exactly expect to be out all night."

"What d'you take?" Chris asks.

"Little fucking nosy of you," says PJ.

"Well, one of us might have what he needs, love. I'm not just asking for the hell of it."

Phil feels a bit like his mum has possessed him when he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "You really shouldn't share medication," he says when Chris gives him a look.

It makes Dan laugh, anyway, so Phil feels like he's done something right. They still don't turn around, just washing everybody's dishes and looking so weirdly at home in Phil's clothes, Phil's old kitchen. Phil doesn't realise he's staring at their back until someone kicks him under the table.

"Earth to Phil," Chris murmurs. He's resting his chin on a hand and smirking, but his eyes are too sharp for how little sleep he must have gotten. Phil feels heat rise to his cheeks and pulls his coffee closer to use the steam as an excuse.

"I don't need anything, really," Dan hums. "Thanks for asking. My brain just struggles a bit."

"A big mood, as the kids say," Chris says sagely.

Dan laughs again. It isn't as loud as Phil knows it can get, but it still fills the room and makes everything seem a bit brighter. "Do the kids say that?" they ask. "Is that what they say?"

"I believe it is," says Chris.

There is another stretch of silence. Phil watches his friends' faces as the elephant in the room weighs on them all. He's making a bet in his own mind about who will be the first to break when Dan turns around and bluntly says, "I still don't think that was a ghost, but I really fucking hated it."

"Sorry," says PJ, "but what else could it have possibly been?"

"I dunno," says Dan. They cross their arms over their waist, holding onto their own elbows. Phil is beginning to recognise the position as a protective one for them. "But I'm sure there's an explanation. Sleep paralysis is normal."

"The way it happened was not normal."

"What do you think it was, Dan?" Sophie asks. Her tone is much kinder than PJ's, but she seems just as skeptical.

Dan's dimple is pulling downwards in unhappiness or discomfort, so Phil waves a hand to get everyone's attention on himself instead.

"Why don't you guys tell us what exactly happened to you," he suggests, meeting Dan's eyes almost apologetically. He knows that none of them want to relive it, but it's easier if they're all on the same page here. "And we can toss around theories later."

--

PJ says, "It was a demon. I could see it. It was tall and humanoid-ish and had a Cheshire Cat smile and it kept going closer to Chris and Soph just to watch me panic. Then it would laugh and sharpen its claws on the wall. It felt like hatred and fear in a physical being. I really don't think our protection sigils did fuck all, but it didn't actually touch any of us, so maybe they helped a bit?"

Dan says, "It was nothing of the sort. I saw the same shit you did, Peej, but that doesn't mean anything. Haven't you ever heard of mass hysteria? Folie à deux - not the album - isn't unheard of. Maybe there's a high level of carbon monoxide. Maybe the asbestos got to us. I don't fucking know, but there's a hundred explanations before you hit demon. But, yeah. It looked like what PJ says. It felt like I was frozen for a fucking week, not just a few hours, it was awful. Zero out of ten, would not do again."

Sophie says, "It smiled at me and I felt cold."

--

They pile into the basement to recuperate so they aren't bothering Phil's parents. Or, more accurately, so Phil's parents aren't bothering them. Most of the games are packed up, but Phil finds the Wii and its small collection of disks in a box under the stairs. He sets it up, hands his friends the controllers, and sits back to zone out while they tear each other apart at Mario Kart.

Phil doesn't consider himself a skeptic. He knows that his threshold of belief is a lot lower than he makes it appear to be in his videos, but he'd never call himself a Scully. He always thinks about the supernatural aspects of any case he's looking into, even if he doesn't commit a hundred percent to the mentality that it must be something weird. He usually just prefers the weird option to the more common and boring reality of things.

So this thing with the Wilkins place is downright terrifying. Not only is it in Phil's proverbial backyard, too close for comfort in a lot of ways, but he hasn't had an experience quite so chilling since he was sixteen and dipping his toe into this hobby at Martyn's side.

He and Martyn still aren't sure what exactly left those finger-shaped bruises on Phil's ankles, but it's become a funny story in the years since.

Maybe this will be something to laugh at in a few years, too. Phil hopes so.

"You sure you don't want to play?" Dan asks, breaking into Phil's reverie. They're in first place and not even looking at the screen, their concerned brown eyes focused on Phil. Phil gives them a small smile and shakes his head.

"No, I'm alright."

"Phil, please take the controller from him," says Chris. He seems annoyed, but Phil can never tell how much of that is a show. It's possible that Chris isn't actually competitive at all and just likes to work Phil and PJ up by acting like he, too, would rather eat a whole head of lettuce than lose. It's also possible that Chris genuinely feels that way. "He's not even fucking trying and he's kicking our asses."

"Maybe you deserve to have your ass kicked a bit," Phil says, watching the screen to see how easily Dan ducks around various obstacles.

It still jolts a bit, hearing the people around him make an assumption - however logical it is - about how Dan wants to be addressed. Phil knows it isn't his place to correct them, especially since it seems like they're not using any less correct terms than he is, but it still rankles a bit.

"Fuck's sake!" PJ exclaims, looking like he's a hair away from throwing the Wiimote at something. He's never actually hit that level of gamer rage, but getting lapped by someone who keeps checking their phone during a race seems to be getting on his nerves. Phil reaches out and pats at PJ's mess of curls.

"You'll be okay," he says, dry. "They're just better than you, you'll live."

Maybe the pronoun use is a little more pointed than it needs to be, but Dan gives him such an exasperatedly fond grin that Phil can't bring himself to regret it. There is a brief beat of quiet, and then PJ groans again.

"It's not fair," says PJ, gesturing dramatically with the Wiimote. Sophie leans out of the line of fire. "This is unacceptable. We have to play a game they're bad at, now."

"I don't care what you call me," says Dan. They sound more amused than anything else. "As long as you know I'm winning anything we play."

"That's why they call him Winnie," Chris says in that very mild voice he uses for absolute nonsense. He puts his own controller aside and flops onto his back on the basement floor, stretching. "I can't do it, I can't play another round of this farce. I'm going upstairs to let my future mum-in-law dote on me."

Phil sighs. He can feel Dan's eyes on him again, and he shrugs helplessly in their general direction. He does not control the Chris. "Please stop saying things like that. Dan is going to think I'm mixed up in… this."

He gestures vaguely at the three of them, and Chris' eyes sharpen like he's spotted prey.

"Oh, so you want Dan to know you're horrendously single, then?" Chris gives Dan a wide, conspiratorial sort of grin. "He's useless at this, you know."

"Me rejecting you doesn't make me useless," Phil huffs. He can feel a flush creeping up his neck, because Chris is more right than he wants to admit, and Dan is smiling back at Chris like they're in on the joke.

"I think it demonstrates a lack of taste," Chris sniffs.

"You know what I think?" Sophie asks, stretching her arms above her head. "I think I need a shower."

"Me too," Dan says with an unnecessary little sigh. Phil pinches his own thigh to circumvent the mental images before they start. It's annoying to have such a good imagination, sometimes. "And I need to take my meds. Is there a bus that runs around here or something?"

"Don't worry about taking the bus," says PJ. "I'll drive you."

"I don't mind," says Dan.

"I mind," says PJ, more firmly. He stands like he's planning on dragging Dan to the car himself if Dan tries to say no again.

Dan's shoulders relax forward. Phil knows the anxiety of riding unfamiliar public transit all too well, and he definitely wouldn't make Dan do something so harrowing after they got roped into ghosthunting. He's glad that PJ is on the same page again, keeping Dan in that sense of protection that being a team gives them.

It's only been a weekend, but Phil is already reluctant to let Dan go home and leave the team bubble. He wants to insist on coming along, but he knows PJ probably wants solitude on the drive back.

Still. Phil chews his lip and looks down at his phone so he doesn't have to see the looks on his friends' faces when he says, "You can keep the pyjamas. If you want them."

"Okay," Dan says softly. "I will, thanks."

He knows that he should look up, should smile at Dan or stand and hug them before they leave his life, but that all feels so big at this moment. Phil's anxiety lets him wave and murmur a goodbye before he's left alone in the basement. At least, he thinks he's alone, until he sighs heavily and Chris responds from the floor. "Oh, you're fucking mooning over him, aren't you? This is awful. I preferred the ghost."

--

Phil takes a shower after his friends have, to be polite, and it feels incredible to wash off the dirt and dust from the attic. It feels less incredible when the door opens.

He hadn't bothered locking it, because his parents' shower is loud and it should be obvious that he's in there. At least the curtain isn't see-through. He takes a moment to just stand under the spray, bewildered, before it occurs to him that he can ask what's going on. It probably isn't a serial killer. "Er, hello?"

"Hi," Chris' voice comes, tense. "We've got a problem."

"I'm a little busy," Phil says pointedly.

"Well, get your hand off your knob and get out here," says Chris. "We need to figure this out before Peej gets back."

Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn't bother arguing about why exactly he's busy. He rinses the last of his mum's conditioner out of his hair and squints at the unfocused, opaque shower curtain like he'll be able to see Chris if he just tries hard enough. "Figure what out, mate?"

"All of the footage is fucked," Chris says, blunt. "It's corrupted to high hell. Every single second. There's no evidence we were even there at all."

[dvp95]

frustrated, falling behind

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: teen & up tags: memory loss, established relationship, introspection word count: 662 summary: Phil reconnects with an old friend. Amnesia AU timestamp.

read on ao3 or here!

According to Dan, texting is the main method of communication these days. He’s probably right, if the fact that their phones ever only ring when Phil’s mum calls is any indication, and Phil is all too happy to avoid phone calls forever if that’s how things work. He’s always hated them. The thing is, it feels weird to reach out with a text to someone he’s only ever texted to confirm plans with.

The sound of the phone ringing makes Phil’s anxiety spike through the roof, like it always does. He bites his lip and thinks about hanging up, but the call gets picked up before he can.

“Phil? Hey, it’s nice to hear from you.”

Phil swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and pulls his knees closer to his chest. He’s wearing one of Dan’s long shirts that might as well be a dress and wishing he’d taken Dan up on his offer to sit in the room with Phil while he made this call. “Yeah,” he manages to say in a more or less normal voice. “Hey, Ian.”

“How’ve you been holding up?” Ian asks, and he sounds the same. He sounds the exact fucking same.

If Phil closes his eyes and doesn’t see the shirt that’s not his, the soft sheets under his bare legs, the huge bedroom around him, then it’s almost like he’s back in his dorm and letting Ian chat his ear off while they both put off their essays.

“You know, I’ve been better,” says Phil.

Ian laughs. “Yeah. Damn, I bet you have, but I bet you’ve also been worse. Remember when you got so sunburned in Florida that you cried the entire time we played crazy golf?”

There’s the invitation to duck a serious conversation and to just reminisce until one of them has to go. It’s tempting. Phil doesn’t like serious conversations, and he likes them even less over the phone.

He probably will take the out, but he’s got things he wants to say first.

“I saw you and your - daughter, online,” he says, the simple sentence feeling clunky with everything he isn’t saying. “She’s really cute. What’s her name?”

“Emily,” says Ian.

Phil considers Ian his best friend in the world. They haven’t known each other since they were kids or anything the way he has with some of his friends, but Ian has always had his back. They’ve spent a lot of nights distracting each other on the phone or on Skype or in person, lying on the other’s dorm floor and spouting nonsense until they were both laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

He’s never heard Ian’s voice sound the way it does when he says his daughter’s name. It’s so… warm. He loves her - obviously he loves her, she’s his kid, Phil is pretty sure that’s in the instruction manual - and it makes Phil feel so, so young.

“Emily,” Phil repeats softly. He wonders what Ian hears in his voice.

“Yeah, she’s really great, she’s like a tiny person now. You’ll like her.”

Something about the way Ian uses the future tense instead of the past tense gets Phil’s chest tightening, and he digs his blunt nails into his palm to stave off the wave of emotion.

“I’m sure I will,” he says. “And of course I remember that horrible day of crazy golf, are you kidding me? This is so much easier to deal with. At least I’m not in physical pain every time fabric or, like, air touches my skin.”

Ian laughs and lets him clumsily guide the conversation back to Florida and away from the huge gap in lived experiences between them. Nobody but Dan really forces Phil to talk about things like that. It’s nice, but it’s also draining in a different way. Phil curls further in on himself and tries his best to think of it as a good thing that Ian’s letting him avoid reality for a little longer.

[dvp95]

all i want is you

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: teen & up tags: memory loss, established relationship, domestic, fluff word count: 967 summary: Phil looks at a photo album and thinks about his luck. Amnesia AU timestamp. Prompted by @midnightradio​ <3

read on ao3 or here!

The albums are next. Phil has no idea where Dan even pulls them out of, because he’d thought he’d snooped in every nook and cranny of their big flat, but suddenly there are half a dozen of them on the kitchen table while Phil makes breakfast.

“You can look at them if you want to,” Dan says, pressing himself along Phil’s back and pausing for a moment. Is this okay?, he’s asking.

Phil leans back into the cuddle for a moment and turns his face expectantly. Dan kisses his cheek right away, and Phil smiles. He knows that it isn’t all that surprising, after how long Dan has known and loved him, but it still gets to him whenever Dan is able to know exactly what he’s nonverbally asking for.

“I really want to,” says Phil. He passes the spatula to Dan. “Finish scrambling my eggs?”

“You’re so annoying,” Dan sighs, but he takes over all the same. Phil steps away from his body heat and takes a moment to admire the view of Dan, sleep-rumpled and shirtless and more or less making Phil breakfast.

He still hasn’t gotten tired of this. The itch under his skin isn’t gone, maybe it never quite will be, but the warmth that spreads through him from simple domestic things is starting to overtake it.

Phil presses a kiss to Dan’s hair and takes his coffee to the table, looking over the photo albums curiously. They’re thinner than the kind that his mum buys, less bulky. They’d probably fit right in on the shelf above Dan’s piano - if Dan wanted to put them there. Phil has already gotten very familiar with Dan’s particular brand of control freak over the months, but he hadn’t expected the level of hovering that simply hanging up photos elicited. Phil keeps expecting to wake up and find everything in different spots.

There aren’t any dates or titles on the albums themselves, so Phil grabs the stripey blue one and starts flipping through it. It’s something like a punch to the gut to see what are clearly older photos, and Phil thinks that it might have actually been easier to see something more recent.

Seeing his own face isn’t the weird part, really. Phil thinks that it probably should be. Aside from the whole mirror thing, Phil hasn’t been too unsettled by seeing himself in pictures or videos. No, it’s so much weirder to see Dan with long brown hair feathered around his soft face, eyes wider, skin darker, shoulders hunched forward.

“Oh my god,” Phil laughs, flipping the pages and trying to drink in the beautiful sea views until the photos change to something else - a different holiday, maybe - and he’s giggling again at the mess of curls on Dan’s head in some of the photos, the clothing styles that look both familiar and foreign to Phil at the same time, the numerous shots of dogs in various locales. When he gets to the last page, he flips it back to the start to really savour it.

“What’s so funny?” Dan hums, setting Phil’s eggs and his own toast in the space on the table where albums are not. Phil does them both a favour and pushes the closed albums to the side before one of them spills something on a precious memory.

“You’re so cute,” Phil says with a big grin across the table. Dan smiles back, seemingly instinctive, before he rolls his eyes.

“You talking about this guy?” Dan asks. He taps the photo of them on the first page of this album, where he’s sunkissed and dimpley and clinging to Phil like he’s somehow afraid Phil is going to let go of him. “Or the one who made you breakfast? Think very carefully about your answer.”

Phil laughs and reaches over to take Dan’s hand in his. “Both of you. I really lucked out.”

“You lucked out,” Dan scoffs. He squeezes Phil’s fingers and dimples at him. “No such thing as luck, but if there were, I’d be the lucky one.”

It’s probably too soon to make a joke about his brain injury, but Phil is tempted for a moment to say that Dan is luckier than he is in one way; he’s got an intact memory, no matter how faulty his brain might be in other aspects.

“Not about this, you’re not,” Phil says vaguely rather than taking a gamble on a joke that isn’t even that funny. He raises Dan’s hand to his mouth to kiss it, watching the way Dan’s sleepy brown eyes go gooey and soft with it. The affection spills out of his entire being, and sometimes that’s too much for Phil to handle.

This morning, though, he loves it. He wants to sunbathe in it, wrap it around himself and bask.

“We should go back sometime,” Phil says, looking back down at the page of photos. The scenery is incredible. If he had to guess, he'd say that they're somewhere in the Caribbean in this part of their lives. He's somehow jealous of himself - he wants Dan, sunkissed and dimpley and clingy, wants to be able to kiss him and whine about the sunburn he's sure to get while Dan laughs at him. “To any of these places, really.”

“Sure,” Dan murmurs. “Put that away before you get egg on it, love.”

“Alright,” says Phil. He uses his free hand to close the album and drop it on top of the others. He can’t wait to see what else is waiting for him in those pages, wants to tear into all of it immediately. He’s never been very good at savouring things.

He thinks he can wait. Dan is gorgeous and warm and here, right now, and Phil is going to do his best to savour that.

[dvp95]

loving you best

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: teen & up tags: memory loss, established relationship, introspection, domestic word count: 686 summary: Dan helps Phil hang photos back up around the flat. Amnesia AU timestamp. Prompted by @judearaya​ <3

read on ao3 or here!

Now that he's spent a good amount of time with his parents, Phil says that he can handle having photos up around the house again. Dan asks half a dozen times if he's certain before Phil gives into the urge to roll his eyes to high heavens.

"Dan," he says, taking a couple frames out of Dan's hands, "I want to see them."

"Okay, fine," says Dan. He relinquishes the rest of them onto the coffee table, careful not to knock the glass too much. "We had these ones in the lounge."

"Can I help pick where they go?" Phil asks, inspecting the Sims family portraits with a kind of detached curiosity.

It's tempting to say no, to put the photos back where they belong and just let Phil get used to it, but Dan knows that isn't particularly fair. This is Phil's home, too, no matter which version of Phil he is, and he's got just as much right to decorating it as Dan does. Dan probably would have rearranged the whole flat by now, had their roles been reversed.

"Course you can," Dan says, dropping a kiss to Phil's shoulder.

"I know you told me about this," says Phil. He taps at Dil's face. "But I didn't expect to see them in real life."

"He's our child," Dan says as lightly as possible. "I actually had to talk you out of one of those school pictures frames, I thought that might be a bit much for a joke."

"Oh, like the ones that have all the years?" Phil asks, delighted, as he starts hunting for a piece of wall to rest it against. He ends up putting it on the same shelf as it originally resided, but on the opposite side. Dan thinks he can live with changes like that. "That would've been funny, you should have let me do that."

"They're tacky, I'm never going to let you buy one."

Dan kind of wants to take that joke back, because he's not ready to have the kids conversation with this Phil. He's not entirely sure that he'll ever be.

It's something he's so afraid of them disagreeing on that he doesn't even know where to start with it. They'd built up to that conversation originally with offhand comments and pillowtalk pipe dreams, years in the making, but Dan knows that Phil hadn't always wanted kids in the deep-seated way that Dan does, that it's something he slowly warmed to until he was the one bringing it up seriously.

There's so many holes in Phil's memory right now, and Dan doesn't know if he wants to wait another seven years for Phil to bring it up again or if he wants to rip the plaster off and face Phil's initial terror at the idea. Both options suck.

To be honest, Dan isn't even sure how this dream would work, now. He doesn't imagine that raising a family is ever easy, but doing so with a brain injury that may or may not be permanent can only add a level of difficulty that they might not be able to prepare for. And that's if Phil is even on the same page as him anymore.

"You'll have to catch me first," says Phil, easy. Dan is jolted back into the present. "How about this? I'll buy the super cool, 'tacky' stuff and you'll buy the, like, practical and aesthetic stuff. I'm sure we can figure out a way to make those styles work together."

Are they still talking about frames? Did Phil pick up on the implications that Dan hadn't meant to drop? Dan chews his lip and decides he doesn't want to know, not yet.

"I'm sure we can," he agrees. He rolls up his sleeves and looks around the lounge. There's something to be said for mixing their styles into a single thing they both love, after all; the stark contrast and pops of colour with all their carefully-placed trinkets makes Dan feel at home here, even though they've always known that this flat is a temporary one. "Where do we want that one?"

[phanfeed-ao3]

tempted, i know

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3jaMF5E

by dayevsphil

Phil has never wanted an Alpha - he only wants Dan, really - but it's fun to play sometimes.

Words: 2816, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Phil Lester, Dan Howell

Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Roleplay, Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink Mention, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Relationship, more tags than usual because i am out of my comfort zone, Boypussy, Mild Degradation

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3jaMF5E

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 13 (now complete)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 6,375 for this chapter (59,473 total) (damn, i was really hoping to hit 60k)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"Do you need to do some laundry before bed?" Phil asks, stirring vegetables with the kind of dubious intensity that Dan recognises from setting one too many meals on fire himself. "Or is all your stuff dry-clean only?"

"Very funny," says Dan. He's keeping an eye on the rice, but it requires much less effort. "Yeah, I could do a load tomorrow."

Phil looks up from his skillet for the first time since he turned the heat on. "Tomorrow? Dan, you leave tomorrow."

"Not til like two," Dan says with a little shrug.

The way Phil is looking at him makes him laugh. He's never seen the man's eyes so wide and anxious, so like a deer in headlights. Dan gently nudges him away from the hob by the hip and takes over vegetable watch.

"Dan," Phil says again, "that's not very much time. You don't want to pack tonight?"

"It sounds like you probably want me to pack tonight, Phil," says Dan. "I'm good at throwing things together last minute, though. I'm not worried about being late."

"I'm worried about you being late," says Phil. "Wouldn't it be easier to pack tonight and just hang out tomorrow?"

Dan smirks and tosses the rice in with the vegetables and sauce, just to get it all stirred together. One of Phil's hands is settled on the small of his back as he needles Dan about this, and it all feels so disgustingly domestic that Dan almost can't handle it.

"Uh huh," he says, trying not to let the fondness seep too much into his tone. "So, what you're saying is, you want me to do my laundry tonight so you can keep me in bed all morning?"

"Yes, but also, I've got time anxiety," Phil chuckles. He presses a kiss to the back of Dan's neck, which makes him shiver.

"You've got anxiety about the concept of time? Honestly, same."

"Stupid," says Phil. He isn't trying to hide the fondness the way Dan is, the affection coming off him in waves as he presses himself into Dan's side, drops a kiss to Dan's shoulder. "That too, I suppose, but I mean about being late. I always have my stuff packed like, two days in advance."

"Absolutely cannot relate," Dan says, biting his lip to try and hide a smile. "But yeah. I can do a load so you're not anxious about my unpacked suitcase all night."

That's not something he would normally offer, because Dan is almost never actually late and he's just fine with his current method of timekeeping, thanks, but he'd rather keep Phil in the best possible mood. And, okay, maybe it does sound kind of nice to just have a lie-in without running around to try and grab all the things he's somehow strewn across the flat in these short days.

It's strange, actually. Dan has spent a lot of his adult life on other people's couches and in hotel rooms, and he's good at keeping his stuff compartmentalized because of that. Something about how comfortable he feels here has him treating it like it's his own home. He's absolutely certain that Phil doesn't mind, if he even notices - it's not exactly obvious that Dan's chargers and straighteners and toothbrush haven't found their way back to his bags when Phil's junk is strewn across every possible surface.

Dan bumps his hip into Phil's and turns off the hob. "You ready to eat?"

"Literally always," says Phil. His hand leaves Dan's back, and Dan feels a bit bereft for it.

Still, he supposes, joining Phil on the sofa to watch some MasterChef while Thor acts like he isn't quietly begging for scraps isn't the worst way to spend an evening. In fact, if that's the only way Dan wants to spend all his dinners from here on out, nobody has to know.

--

Dan takes a shower while Phil goes on a walk with the dog, and he spends more time zoning out than he does actually washing himself. His phone is blaring a playlist he doesn't even remember making, and while it has some real bangers on it, he keeps getting distracted trying to track down the memory of it in his brain. Then, of course, his mind just drifts from there.

He thinks about his family, about the emails he still hasn't checked, about Adrian spouting bullshit profoundness down a phone line. He thinks about Heatwave, and his role in the whole mess of it, and what Amy will say when he tells her that he doesn't want to be a part of it going forward. He thinks about London, about the way the city has felt like an eventuality before but not quite like this, about how Phil is really what makes it feel like a place Dan can settle down and build a life for himself.

Most of all, Dan thinks about how much it is going to suck to be away from Phil for however long they have to be.

Long distance relationships aren't exactly Dan's forte. Which, okay, to be fair, relationships generally are not exactly Dan's forte, but he understands how this part works. He understands sex and cuddling and kissing, even if it all feels like the dial has been turned up to eleven with Phil, but he's not a hundred percent sure how to keep this sort of energy when they're an entire ocean apart. Dan is kind of a jealous person with a yo-yo of self esteem, and Phil is a very handsome and charming man who surely has far better prospects than talking to Dan on Skype until he falls asleep.

And that thought process isn't one Dan really needs to go down, is it.

He decides to try and trace back an inside joke to its inception while he washes his hair, because surely that's a better use of his time than heading down a rabbit hole of insecurity. He's still pondering that when there's a knock at the bathroom door and it opens.

"Hey, Dan?" Phil's voice comes, just loud enough to be heard over the shower and the music. Dan's eyes are closed so he doesn't get any fucking shampoo in them, and he has no idea if Phil is looking at him through the glass screen or not. He makes a noise to indicate he's heard Phil and tilts his head forward to start rinsing his hair. "You want me to throw your clothes in for you now? I can leave you something of mine to wear."

"I'd take something of yours anyway," Dan says, dry. He keeps his eyes closed. If he doesn't look, then he can live in a world where his boyfriend is checking him out just for the hell of it. Dan doesn't mind being watched by the right eyes.

"Of course you would. Anything that can't go in the wash?"

Dan grins and shrugs, even though Phil might not be looking at him. "I mean, read the fucking labels, mate. But yeah, none of my dress shirts."

"Got it." There's a beat of relative silence for so long that Dan starts to wonder if Phil has managed to leave the room without making noise - not Phil's strong suit at the best of times - but then he speaks again, low and amused. "If I were a murderer, Dan, you'd be so dead right now. Why are you facing the tap, you absolute freak?"

Water goes up Dan's nose when he laughs, and he's sure the sound of him cough-laughing isn't exactly attractive. He turns around and cracks an eye open to check if Phil is laughing at him or not.

Phil is resting against the bathroom counter with his arms crossed and a smirk playing around his pretty lips. If Dan were not acutely aware of the injuries it would cause, he'd whinge until Phil joined him under the spray.

"I'm just having a face the tap kind of day," he informs Phil, making sure his hair is completely devoid of any shampoo that might sneak-attack his eyes and make him look even more hilariously incompetent than he already does. "You just gonna stand there and look at me?"

"Tempting," says Phil. He leans over and picks up the pile of clothes that Dan had discarded beside the bath mat. "But one of us needs to get this done."

"Oi, I said I'd do it."

The grin Phil sends his way makes Dan's knees feel a bit wobbly, like he's a teenager all over again. "I know. I didn't believe you."

Honestly, that's fair. Dan is better at putting things off than he is getting off his ass to do it right away. He pretends to be offended, anyway, because it's more fun than conceding defeat. "Excuse me? I'm a man of my word, Philip."

"I believe you'd do it eventually," says Phil. "But if I do it now, then you can be naked in my bed once you're done wasting all my hot water. See? I think ahead."

"Go away," Dan laughs.

"I'm doing a nice thing!" Phil protests, but he's laughing too. He lets his gaze drift over Dan's body again, unapologetic about checking him out in a way that makes Dan's heart beat a bit faster, and then he's gone. The door closes behind him, and Dan covers his face with both hands to hide his blush from the empty bathroom and Frank Ocean's crooning.

God, he's so far gone for this guy. It's genuinely fucking ridiculous.

He doesn't spend too much more time in the shower, because his boyfriend is waiting for him. And, fuck, that still feels so goddamn weird to think. Boyfriend. Dan has a boyfriend. It's actually surreal.

Dan dries himself off and wraps the towel around his hips, because Phil hasn't come back to give him pyjamas. He turns off his mystery playlist and pushes wet curls off his forehead before he leaves the fogged-up bathroom.

"He emerges," Phil jokes, barely looking up from his phone. "Clothes are in the dresser if you want to put them on."

"If I want to?" Dan repeats with a big grin. He likes looking at Phil's long legs spread over his colourful bedsheets, glasses perched on his nose and his hair sticking up a bit at the back. He looks comfortable and soft, and Dan truly considers throwing on something soft and curling up for another nap. Or sleep, at this point, if Phil lets him sleep through the night. But he's leaving so soon, he wants more than that. "Yeah. I don't really want to."

The way Phil's lips twitch make Dan feel certain that Phil didn't really want him to, either. He puts his phone aside and raises his eyebrows at Dan. "C'mere, then."

As tempting as it is to just collapse into Phil's lap right away, Dan is getting the hang of this 'sharing a small space with a dog' thing. He has to use treats and toys to lure Thor out of the room this time, gamely ignoring Phil's snickers at his attempts. Thor is so dubious at this point, not particularly enjoying being put away, but he eventually does follow Dan into the bathroom and curl up with his rope and a reproachful look at Dan. It's very distracting, but Dan manages to remember to grab a couple of condoms. The lube is still on one of the nightstands, on the side Dan has been trying pretty hard not to think of as his own.

"You know," Dan says as he hangs his towel on a hook, closes the bathroom door behind him. "When I get a place in London, it's going to have more than two rooms. So even if you do bring Thor over, we can shut a door without him getting mad at me."

"I think he'd get mad anyway," says Phil. He sounds distracted, looking Dan over again, and Dan preens a bit under the attention.

It's not that Dan doesn't know what he looks like. He's not going to win any awards for his face or body or whatever, but he's not exactly a bridge troll. He's seen himself on screen and heard enough people talk about him in complimentary ways that he knows, more or less, the way people tend to react when they look at him, but.

Just like everything else, it feels like so much more with Phil. Normally, Dan feels anywhere from gratified to indifferent by people finding him attractive, but when Phil looks at him like that, he just feels... wanted. In a really, really good way.

"Probably," Dan says, putting a hand on his hip. His pulse jumps at the way Phil's eyes track the movement, how they linger on Dan's dick. So what if he's getting a bit hard just from being looked at? Dan doesn't mind being watched by the right eyes, and Phil's are definitely the right eyes. He can't find it in himself to be embarrassed about it, not when Phil doesn't seem to find it funny in the slightest.

"Come here," Phil says again, more firmly.

Dan does as he's told, straddling Phil's thighs and grinning at him. He takes Phil's glasses off his face, puts them and the condoms on the nightstand for safekeeping. Phil blinks a bunch and grins back at him.

"You're wearing a lot of clothes," Dan notes, toying with the collar of Phil's shirt. He hasn't changed all day, and as much as Dan likes looking at him in this tacky print, he'd much prefer to see the pale skin and downy hair and shock of metal beneath it. "That's gonna be a problem."

"Oh, is it?" Phil teases, running his cool hands over Dan's thighs, his flank, his ass. It's like he can't decide where to settle them, not that Dan is complaining about the exploration.

"Yeah, but don't worry, I can fix it." Dan flicks the buttons of Phil's shirt open, pressing his lips to Phil's collarbone as soon as the bright fabric is out of the way. He feels Phil exhale as one of his hands tangles loosely in Dan's hair.

The texture of Phil's jeans feels weird against Dan's bare inner thighs. He leans forward a bit so less of his skin is touching denim before doing something he hasn't done since he was a literal teenager. He bites down rather gently on Phil's pale collarbone and soothes it with his tongue, giving Phil plenty of opportunity to protest before he goes in properly to leave a mark.

Dan finishes unbuttoning Phil's shirt while he sucks and nips at Phil's clavicle, and he lets his large hands map out the rest of Phil's torso while he darkens the bruise to his satisfaction.

Little sighs keep escaping Phil's lips as he runs his fingers through Dan's damp hair, and Dan is sure that he would have been tugged away by now if this wasn't good for Phil, too. Dan brushes his fingertips over Phil's ribs and bites down harder, just to see where the line is.

Phil's breath hitches. Otherwise, he doesn't really react.

"You're like a vampire," he comments, his voice low and dry and very, very attractive to Dan. "Do you bite all the boys?"

"Nah," Dan murmurs, nosing at the small, blossoming bruises. He likes the way they look, hopes that Phil will send him photos later with them on display. "Just you. Want you to think about me while I'm gone."

"Trust me," says Phil. "That was never going to be a problem. D'you like getting them, too, or do you just like giving them?"

What a perfect set up to a shitty joke. Dan's favourite. He grins wide and winks up at Phil, tweaking Phil's nipple ring as he does. "Oh, I'm versatile."

Even with his shirt pushed open, his cheeks pinked, his eyes dark and intense despite not being able to see much of anything, Phil manages to roll his eyes. "Yeah, alright. D'you want a hickey or not?"

"Yes, please," Dan says cheerfully. "Nowhere I might accidentally flash to a camera."

Phil hums and looks Dan over, thoughtful. Dan feels his dick twitch at the attention and resists the ridiculous urge to cover himself.

"Okay," says Phil, patting Dan's thighs decisively. "Lie down."

"Sounds good to me, my dude," says Dan. He laughs as he rolls off of Phil and onto his back, suddenly remembering something he'd said to Phil on what he now knows was their first date. "Never sit when you can lie down, am I right?"

"You are right," Phil says dryly. He shrugs off his shirt and lets it fall to the floor. "You are also very annoying."

"Is this because I dude-zoned you?"

Phil's lips twitch, and he smacks at the general direction of Dan's thigh. He misses, hits the mattress instead, and Dan can't hold back a snort. Phil's depth perception is shot without his glasses, and Dan is so endeared by his confused blinking.

"Where are you?" Phil murmurs, mostly to himself, and stretches his hand out to connect with Dan's hip. "Aha. There you are. Got you."

"I literally was not moving." This time, the slap does connect with Dan's thigh. He doesn't really mind, but he makes a big show of sulking about it anyway. "Ow, rude."

"As if that hurt," Phil says dismissively. He trails his hand over Dan's hip and lower stomach before he moves to settle between Dan's legs, as if he's using his palm to map out where he needs to be.

Okay, yeah, Dan can work with this. He wiggles to get more comfortable and arches a bit into Phil's touch.

This always makes Dan feel so vulnerable. He knows that Phil can't see him clearly, but that doesn't seem to matter to that sense of shame that Dan still hasn't managed to eradicate. Phil presses his lips to Dan's thigh and Dan spreads his legs wider in response, blushing furiously and thanking his lucky stars that Phil probably won't notice it.

Dan knows what he wants, and normally he'd have no trouble asking for it, but he's nervous. It's hard to focus completely on the wet suction of Phil's mouth on his inner thigh when all Dan can think about is how terrifying this is to him. He can't figure out the source of the anxiety at first, mind drifting down various paths the way it had in the shower, but he's jolted back into the present when the sharp edge of Phil's teeth press against his skin.

Suddenly, it's obvious. Of course this is nerve-wracking. Everything that he's felt with Phil has been more intense than anything he's felt before, from such simple things as holding hands to the feeling of Phil's cock in his mouth, and Dan already knows how much he likes being fucked. He's nervous about, like, blacking out or doing something else stupidly embarrassing like that.

Phil pulls back to look at the mark he's left on Dan's inner thigh as best as he can without perfect vision, and Dan tries his best to ignore whatever notions of shame and fear still try to make him feel like less for enjoying something like this.

"Hey," he says, reaching for the bottle of lube before he can lose his nerve. "While you're down there, might as well make yourself useful."

It takes a bit of squinting, but Phil snorts a laugh when he figures out what Dan is holding out to him. "I thought I was already being useful," Phil says, "but sure, whatever you say."

"Don't act like it's a hardship," Dan huffs. He shifts down a bit, getting his hips in a more comfortable position. He can see a red flush all over his chest, and he bets his face looks even worse. He needs to keep fighting back that embarrassment, that shame. That fear of it being so good he won't know how to act. He doesn't want to tell Phil everything, but he wants to somewhat explain himself in case Phil can tell he's acting weird. "Though, like, guess you should know that it's been a while."

"How long we talking?" Phil hums as he brushes his thumb over Dan's dick, teasing.

"Uh," says Dan. "Like, uni."

That makes Phil sit up a bit and furrow his brow in the general direction of Dan's face. "Dan, that's almost -"

"I know," Dan groans, covering his red face with both hands. "I know it's been almost ten fucking years, Phil, but I'm not going to fucking - break, or freak out, or whatever. I do fuck myself, okay, it's just been since uni that another person's done it for me."

"Okay," Phil says, his voice soft and soothing. He squeezes Dan's thighs and leans in to press a chaste kiss to the pudge of Dan's tummy.

"Okay?" Dan repeats, his heart beating way too fast to match Phil's serenity.

"Yeah, okay," says Phil. He smiles. "You say you're okay, I believe you. Just keep talking to me, okay? And you can change your mind whenever."

Dan swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. Fuck, he shouldn't be getting so emotional just because someone about to fuck him is treating him gently, but he might have more issues around this than he'd thought he did. He reaches down to tangle his fingers with Phil's, squeezing both of his hands.

"Oh, so now you want me to talk?" he teases.

His voice doesn't come out nearly as conversational as he wants it to, but Phil is kind enough not to draw attention to it. Instead, he just asks, "You want me to suck you off? Give you something else to focus on?"

"Are you that coordinated?" Dan asks, trying his best to get the light atmosphere back. He can't deal with the weight of emotion right this second, not when he's leaving so fucking soon. He's got enough emotions to deal with about that, he doesn't need to add more onto his plate. He isn't exactly 'good' with 'emotion'.

Thankfully, Phil laughs. He pinches Dan's thigh, close to where he'd left a bruise but not quite on it. "Hey, fuck you."

"That's what I'm saying," Dan laughs too, wiggling his hips. "Fuck me."

Phil still isn't looking directly at Dan's face, but his reassuring little grin still hits Dan as hard as it would have if they were staring into each other's eyes. He settles back down between Dan's spread legs and taps at Dan's thigh.

"Lift," he instructs, and Dan knows he's blushing even deeper as he hooks a leg over Phil's bare shoulder, making things a bit easier on both of them. God, but the vulnerability is so much worse like this. Dan likes being looked at by the right eyes, but the feeling of being on display like this makes him squirmy somewhere in his gut. Phil hums against Dan's thigh, presses soft kisses over it until the muscle relaxes. "Be easier if you put the condom on for me, yeah?"

All too happy to have something to focus on that isn't the feeling of Phil's fingers brushing over his balls, Dan does as he's told.

It's easier like this, it really is. Phil is working by touch more than sight, and that becomes doubly true when Dan's dick is in his mouth and he's got his pretty, unfocused eyes closed. Dan fights back the panic threatening to overtake him, because this is just Phil.

It's just Phil. And more than anyone else he's ever met, Dan thinks that he probably trusts this man the most. He tangles his fingers in Phil's soft bedding, breathing deeply and doing his best to relax when Phil goes ahead and rubs his fingers over Dan, presses a tiny bit inside him, makes a questioning sort of noise around Dan's cock.

"Yeah," Dan breathes, letting his own eyes fall closed so he can just think about how good this feels. "It's good, you can keep going."

And it is. It's really, really good. Dan already knows he likes this, knows that a finger inside him while a hot mouth is wrapped around his cock is one of the better things for him in bed, but Phil sure does turn this up to eleven, too.

Phil isn't even trying to get him off right now, is the thing. He's sucking Dan lazily, keeping his cock warm more than actually blowing him, and his finger - fingers, after a minute, and that slight stretch makes Dan bite back a truly mortifying noise - aren't seeking out Dan's prostate, but none of that makes this any less good for Dan.

He doesn't treat Dan like he's made of glass, and Dan appreciates that almost as much as he appreciates the steady thrum of pleasure coursing through him as Phil gets him ready. He had been a bit wary that admitting the length of time would make Phil gentle and nervous, as if Dan were a bloody virgin or something, but he should really stop projecting so many of his own anxieties on a man who is clearly more well-adjusted than Dan.

The only thing Phil does is slow down when Dan has been quiet for too long, make some prompting noises, pull off him to remind Dan to breathe with him. It's considerate in a way that doesn't make Dan feel embarrassed and smothered, and Dan could fucking kiss him for that. In fact, he will, as soon as Phil comes back into kissing distance. Dan could never articulate any of this to Phil, of course, but he can kiss him until he gets the general idea.

Dan babbles. Of course he does, he's been given explicit permission to do so. It's all a jumble of affirmations and curses, not exactly sensical, but he doesn't think Phil expects him to be talking in proper sentences right this second.

Eventually, though, Dan groans and reaches for Phil's hair, pulling him off. "Okay, okay, fuck. I'm good, need you now."

He opens his eyes and has to swallow another noise at how good Phil looks right now, all reddened mouth and darkened eyes. He surely can't see the way Dan is gawping at him, but the way he smirks makes Dan think that maybe he can sense it. "What exactly do you need?" Phil asks, playing dumb. Dan would kick him if he was physically able to.

"I'm going to kick you," Dan informs him.

"Wow, abuse of the boyfriend," says Phil. He nips at Dan's stomach and sits up with a little roll of his neck, stretching it. "I'm just asking for some clarity, Daniel, you already have me."

"You're terrible," says Dan. "This is terrible. If you don't have your dick inside me in the next ten seconds, you're sleeping on the sofa."

Phil's fake-innocent mask breaks as he giggles, tongue poking out from between his teeth. "This is my bed!" he protests.

Honestly, Dan doesn't care whose bed it is. This is a ridiculous argument to be having when Phil's got three of his fingers in Dan's ass.

"Ten," Dan threatens like he would with a small child, and Phil laughs even harder at him. Dan can feel giggles threatening to bubble up from his own chest, and he tries to hold back a very unsexy snort. "Shut up, oh my god, you're the absolute worst."

"I'm not the one whining about not getting my way," Phil points out.

"Hi, have we met? I'm Dan."

Phil rolls his eyes to the ceiling and shakes his head. The loss of his fingers makes Dan whine involuntarily, and he whines even louder when Phil stands up.

Thankfully, Phil only stays off the bed long enough to shuck his jeans and pants off. Dan reaches for him, wraps a hand around Phil's cock and revels in the soft, surprised 'oh' of a noise that falls from Phil's lips. He's hard and heavy and Dan has to know if that Prince Albert will do anything for him when Phil is inside him. He gives Phil a couple strokes and tears open another condom. Maybe if Dan were a less lazy person, he'd take his own off now that it isn't needed, but - hey, it's already there, clean-up's going to be a lot easier. Whatever.

He doesn't think he can stay on his back. He isn't entirely convinced that he won't get teary if this feels at all like this 'making love' thing people keep talking about, first of all, but Dan also has far more practical excuses for rolling onto his front. His thighs are starting to cramp up, and the other people who live in this building would surely appreciate Dan's loud mouth being pressed into a pillow. Dan has so many things he could say to Phil if he asks about the change of position, but Phil doesn't ask.

A cool palm runs over Dan's lower back and rests on his hip, squeezing. Dan sighs and buries his nose further into the pillowcase. It smells like Phil's fruity shampoo, and that's comforting. This isn't as scary now that Dan remembers exactly how at ease Phil puts him, has been able to since they met.

Phil working mostly by touch gives Dan enough warning that he doesn't quite gasp when he feels the head of Phil's cock pressing against him, but he does groan into Phil's pillow.

He definitely forgot to warn Phil about his volume control issues. It would be fairly redundant to do it now, Dan thinks, because the barely-muffled sound he makes when Phil starts to sink into him is already the loudest one he's made in Phil's presence.

Phil pauses, squeezing Dan's hip again. "Hey. Good or bad?"

Dan turns his face just enough to laugh breathlessly, stretching his arms out to hold onto the pillow. "Uh, fucking incredible."

"Yeah," Phil agrees, voice so low that Dan can practically feel it vibrating down his spine. He rolls his hips carefully and makes a choked-off laugh of a noise when Dan outright moans, only able to hide the tail end of it in the pillow. "Christ. You weren't kidding, yeah? You really like this?"

Eyes closed, practically suffocating himself, Dan does his best to nod.

He does. He really likes this.

The thing is, he still isn't really sure that he's able to vocalize that, at least not right this second. Dan rocks his hips back instead of trying to articulate some kind of response, heat sparking through him at the motion. God, but it really has been a long time since Dan has gotten fucked. Phil lets his hips snap forward to meet Dan's little thrusts, and, yeah. Fuck.

Dan was right. This feels so much better than any other cock he's ever had, and it isn't because the ball of Phil's piercing keeps nudging against Dan's prostate just right or because he's thick enough to stretch Dan just the way he likes - or, okay, it isn't solely because of those things. They do help.

It's just because this is Phil rocking into him, pressing kisses over his shoulders, making little breathy noises whenever Dan clenches around him.

Honestly, Dan had no idea that liking someone so much and trusting them with his body would make sex this much better. Sure, yeah, it makes logical sense or whatever, but it isn't something he could have ever guessed he'd get to experience.

He’s still overthinking when a particularly hard thrust has him rushing to the edge faster than he has in a long time, making his entire mind short-circuit.

"Oh," he moans, curling his hands into fists in Phil’s pillow and nodding into the fabric. "Oh, fuck, s-sorry, close -"

Phil's laugh turns into a groan, and Dan thinks that's the hottest thing he's ever heard. "The fuck are you sorry for, Dan?" He slides one of his hands around to play with Dan's cock, tight enough that Dan doesn't even fucking care about the latex barrier keeping him from the texture of Phil's palm. Phil presses more of his weight onto Dan, kisses the side of his neck, murmurs directly into his ear. "I want you to come."

Yeah. Okay. Dan might be a bit suggestible. He bites down on Phil’s pillow as his orgasm hits, embarrassingly quickly. Maybe he does black out for a second, because he feels heat through his entire body one moment and absolutely boneless the next.

Phil is still kissing over his feverish skin when Dan comes back to himself, and the feeling of him grinding slow into Dan is hovering right on the knife edge of too-much.

"Fuck," Dan gasps, turning his head so he can breathe again. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he isn't sure that his arms will ever not be jelly again. He feels Phil stop moving, probably planning to pull out, and he whines a bit. "No, s'okay. You can finish, baby."

If Dan were more present, he might care that he's called someone baby unironically. As it is, he just wiggles back into Phil and revels in the moan he gets in response.

"You sure?" Phil checks, voice trembling the tiniest bit. It's like he's holding himself back. He doesn't have to do that, not with Dan.

"Very sure," says Dan. He closes his eyes, lets the too-much turn back into a low level thrum of pleasure. He's not nineteen anymore, he definitely can't go again tonight, but it still feels good to be making Phil feel good. He hums and reaches a hand back to hold onto Phil's, both of them pressed against Dan's hip. He feels loose-limbed, happy, and he doesn't second guess himself at all when he adds, "I like the way it feels. You can keep going."

"God," Phil breathes. He gives Dan a couple of slow, careful thrusts, testing the waters, but when Dan only makes a contented noise in response, Phil starts really fucking him again.

Dan holds tight to Phil's hand and lets Phil use him for his own end, murmuring absolute nonsense to help him along. Just, "Yeah, that's it, doesn't it feel good, you feel good", that sort of thing.

Still, Phil does get there before Dan stops enjoying the oversensitive feeling. His rhythm falters a couple of times and his blunt nails dig into Dan's skin, hopefully leaving more physical reminders of the best sex Dan's ever had, before he's groaning something that sounds like Dan's name and coming. Dan whimpers at the feeling of Phil losing control inside him.

They're both panting and sweaty and have gross condoms to dispose of, but when Phil pulls out of him and pulls him into a cuddle, Dan feels more at peace than he thinks he ever has in his goddamn life.

"I don't want to leave," Dan whispers into the quiet, because he isn't sure if he's told Phil as much.

"I don't want you to leave," Phil says, pressing a kiss to Dan's damp curls. His arms feel so steady around Dan, not at all jelly like Dan's are. "But you'll be back when you can, right? And I go to Florida every year with my family, I can totally road trip to you."

With any luck, that won't be necessary. Dan is too fucked-out and sleepy to turn this into a Conversation, though, so he just makes an affirmative sort of noise and nuzzles into Phil's chest.

They can clean up in a minute.

--

"Sorry, sorry, I know I was almost late, but I promise I have a good reason for it -"

"You can't be almost late," Phil says, rather patiently for the time of morning it is in London. He looks tired, glasses on and hair an absolute mess, but he'd woken up just because Dan had asked him to. Dan can see Thor's nose, resting on Phil's thigh, and everything inside him wants to crawl through the screen to join them both.

Dan settles in the hotel bed with his phone, grinning at how cute they both look even through shitty FaceTime quality. "Still, I'm sorry. I know it's early."

"Yeah," Phil says, unable to stop himself from yawning. He gives Dan a sheepish little smile. "But I wanted to see you. How's L.A. going? Has anyone tried to lick you yet?"

"For the last time, you're the only person who has multiple stories of strangers trying to lick you," says Dan. He winks. "Not that I blame them."

The grin Phil gives him makes his stomach swoop. Dan wonders if it's ever going to stop doing that.

"Shut up," Phil says, fond. He shifts around on his sofa, getting comfortable, and Thor gives him a disappointed sort of look for the temporary displacement. "Sorry, buddy. But I'm serious, Dan, what's up? You've been stupidly vague."

"Yeah, I guess I have," says Dan. He lifts a shoulder in a lazy sort of shrug and puts his hand in front of his mouth to try and hide the ridiculously happy grin on his face. "I've been talking to producers all day, and it's been a fucking nightmare. Just got back to the hotel, I really did think I'd be back earlier than this and I could try to be early for once, but."

Phil blinks at him. "I thought you were on vacation."

"Don't you think I'd go to your place if I were on vacation?" Dan laughs. "No, I - I didn't want to get your hopes up. But like, here's the thing. I've got news."

Even Thor seems to perk up. Dan grins at his screen, wishes he could watch Phil's eyes go from their carefully guarded neutrality into something that's softer, more hopeful. Just for Dan.

"You've got news," Phil repeats. He bites his lip. "What kind of news?"

Dan had this whole plan to drag it out, make it all dramatic, but now that he's faced with the cautious optimism in Phil's face, he can't bring himself to do it. He laughs, rolls onto his side to get more comfortable. "Well, you can tell your mum I'm coming round for Christmas, for one."

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 7

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 5,009 for this chapter (30,147 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

quick question are you home

I am! Not for long tho. What's up?

Dan swears under his breath and hits the call button on his mobile, looking out the window so he doesn't have to feel the Uber driver's judgemental eyes on him.

"Hey!" Phil answers, bright and happy and god Dan is glad he's doing this.

"Hi," says Dan. He can't help the warmth in his own voice, the barely-suppressed enthusiasm at simply hearing Phil for the second time today. "Sorry I went radio silent for like an hour. I was actually on a plane."

There's a sound like a cupboard door closing, followed by the telltale pouring of either cereal or dog food. With Phil, it really could go either way.

"On a plane?" Phil asks. "Thought you were staying another night."

"I was supposed to," says Dan. His heart is pounding. He is only ten minutes from Phil's front door, if Phil wants him.

"Are you doing a bunk?" Phil laughs, the sound of it warming Dan from his ears to his toes. "Where did you go? Surely saying my name on the radio wasn't so awful that you had to flee the country?"

"It was," says Dan, barking a laugh of his own. "But, no, I'm... back in London. I'm practically round the corner, actually, if you wanna... grab dinner? Or something?"

What feels like an entire minute of silence follows Dan's awkward suggestion, but it's probably more like five seconds. It's enough time for his palms to start sweating, in any case. He's about to laugh and say 'gotcha!' and act like this was all a grand joke before going to a hotel to cry, when Phil responds.

"Oh, Dan," he says, apologetic, and Dan wonders how much he'd have to tip his Uber driver to plunge them both into the Thames.

"Sorry, it's stupid," says Dan. "I wasn't even -"

Phil interrupts him. "It's not stupid, don't be an idiot, I want to see you."

"Oh."

"Yeah," says Phil, "but I have dinner plans with my family. Mum and dad are flying out of Heathrow tomorrow for holiday and wanted to see us before they leave."

"Oh," Dan says again. He doesn't really see why that's an issue. Sure, they won't be able to Talk with a capital T or anything, but he still wants to see Phil so badly that it's going to give him a stomach ache. "Well, I can - I mean, if that's not too weird for you or whatever, I'd - if you want -"

"Are you going to finish one of those sentences?"

"Fuck off." Dan takes a deep, steadying breath. "What I'm saying is that I wouldn't mind meeting your family. Or I could just hang out with Thor until you get back, or whatever."

Another beat of silence, this one longer. Finally, Phil says, "You want to meet my family?", in such a skeptical tone of voice that Dan is offended despite not, in fact, being certain about it at all.

"Well, shit, I don't have to," says Dan, miffed. "You met mine, though."

"I met your coworkers, Dan."

"Yeah, and they're practically my family."

"This is literally my family," says Phil. He exhales, sounding for all the world like he's pinching his nose between his finger and thumb like an overdramatic librarian. "Dan, are you going to be a fucking brat if I say no?"

"Not if you don't really want me there," Dan mumbles. He's a little taken aback by how okay he is with Phil calling him a fucking brat. It hits him right on an edge of shame that could tumble way too easily into arousal if he were to let it.

Phil sighs again. "No, that's not it. I want you there. You wanna drop your stuff off at my place?"

"Yeah," Dan says sheepishly. "I'm almost there, just coming from the airport."

When Dan pulls up to the kerb outside the familiar row of narrow buildings, he sees Phil waiting for him with this resigned, amused sort of smile and his hands in his pockets. He's wearing a plaid shirt and a denim jacket with ripped jeans, looking for all the world like he's stepped out of a 90s grunge band.

He comes over to help Dan with his bags, laughing a bit. "You really came right here, huh? Hi."

"Told you I did," says Dan. On impulse, he wraps an arm around Phil's shoulders in a half-hug. He can smell Phil's cologne so strongly where his nose presses against Phil's neck, and it makes his head spin a bit. "Hi yourself."

It takes all of Dan's self control not to just kiss Phil here on the pavement in front of god and everyone, drag him downstairs by the lapels and make him forget everything that isn't Dan's name. It's very, very tempting, but Dan knows how much Phil loves his parents, how little they get to see each other, so. He pulls away from the hug without doing anything stupid and meets Phil's eyes with a little smile.

"Jaime and Patrick still in Dublin?" Phil asks, leading the way into his home and down the stairs.

The fact that his back is to Dan helps the ease of answering. "Yeah. I came back early because," he says, then pauses. "I missed London."

Phil grins over his shoulder as he gets the flat's door open. "London missed you."

Dan smiles back, wide and open. He's got no reason to hold back now. They don't have time to talk before they leave - Dan doesn't think he'll be able to go anywhere once he's allowed to put his hands on Phil - but that doesn't mean Dan can't already be obvious about why he's here.

The apartment is dimly lit tonight, all the candles blown out in anticipation of Phil leaving for a couple of hours and only a string of fairy lights and one lamp turned on.

Dan's luggage gets dropped unceremoniously in the entry, because both of them are suddenly busy with a very excited dog zooming around their ankles and threatening to trip them up. Dan laughs and sinks to the floor, letting Thor jump up on him and lick his face. He ends up flat on his back, again, giggling helplessly while Thor wiggles around on his chest.

"Why do you rile him up?" Phil asks, doing a very admirable job of sounding exasperated. His soft expression tells Dan how he's really feeling.

"He's cute," says Dan. He noses at one of Thor's ears. "And soft. And I like him."

"Seems like he feels the same way about you," says Phil.

"We're best friends, aren't we, Thor?" Dan coos, sitting up enough to shift Thor's weight to his lap. It's easier to give him pats like this. "Yes we are! We are! You're the cutest dog in the world!"

"That's true," says Phil. He crouches down beside them and scratches behind Thor's ear. His eyes meet Dan's, and they both smile.

This is exactly the kind of domestic fantasy Dan has decided to embrace. He holds himself back from leaning in for a kiss, but only because he knows they have places to be. It's nice to know that if he did lean forward, Phil would let him. He likes that calm certainty.

"Are we going somewhere nice?" Dan thinks to ask. "Should I change?"

"Nowhere fancy," says Phil. He reaches out and tugs at one of Dan's hoodie strings. "But maybe a different top layer, there."

"I don't want to dig through my shit," Dan says, totally aware of how obvious he's being. Whatever, Phil was worse about stealing his sweatpants. "Have you got something I could borrow?"

Phil rolls his eyes like he sees right through Dan and tugs at the other string, just to be a dick. "Yeah, alright, borrow. Sure. So if I can't find it next week, that's a coincidence?"

"I'm not responsible for you losing shit, mate."

"Fuck off," Phil says warmly. He stands up, wincing as his knees make a funny crick of a noise. "I'll be right back, but then we're leaving, okay? I don't want to be late. Get your puppy cuddles in now."

Dan grins down at Thor and gives him softer pats with both hands, trying to calm him down a bit. His fluffy fur is so soft and his ears are perked up so happily that Dan might actually start crying. He loves dogs, generally, and he loves this dog, specifically.

Kind of like how he likes London, generally, and this apartment, specifically. How he's into guys, generally. Phil, specifically.

Thor does calm down fairly easily once Dan stops matching his high energy. He rests his chin on Dan's thigh, half on Dan's lap and half on the floor, and just hangs out there until Phil comes back from the bedroom area of his flat. He's holding another denim jacket, something Dan doesn't even own but apparently Phil has several of.

"It's just from Topman," Phil says, grinning down at Dan and Thor. "But it's the only black jacket I've got that isn't, like, a blazer. Would you prefer a blazer?"

Dan snorts. "Absolutely not."

It hurts him a bit to dislodge Thor and stand up, but Thor happily trots back to his bed and starts gnawing on one of his toys. Phil grins wider and hands over the jacket, which isn't even black. It's a dark grey, distressed, and the collar is fuzzy. Dan is going to steal this for sure.

Dan tugs his hoodie off over his head and tosses it at Phil. He laughs at the affronted look on Phil's face.

"I'm not your butler," Phil says. He hangs the hoodie up next to Thor's leash, anyway. Dan likes the look of it there. "Are you ready? I'll get a car."

The jacket fits Dan well enough. When he glances at himself in the mirror by the door, he decides that he likes the way it looks on him, too. It doesn't smell like Phil, just some generic detergent, but Dan still likes it anyway. Besides, his Yeezy t-shirt still has the faint scent of Phil clinging desperately to it. Dan wonders what it would be like to live in a world where all his clothes smelled like Phil in some capacity.

"Yeah," he says, still looking at the easy way he fits in this jacket, this flat. "I'm ready."

--

"Did you warn your family that I'm coming?" Dan asks, coming to a sudden stop before they reach the door of the restaurant and taking Phil's wrist so he stops, too. If he's going to be a surprise tagalong, he ought to know.

Phil blinks, then smiles. "I texted them, yeah."

"And they're, like," says Dan, chewing on his lower lip, "okay with it?"

A quick, reassuring squeeze of Dan's hand before Phil pulls his own hand back. Dan imagines that he is all too aware that they're out on the pavement on a rather busy street. He likes to think that Phil would hold his hand properly if they were somewhere more private and comfortable.

"They're okay with it," Phil assures him. "You'll probably hate how okay with it they are once they start interrogating you."

"They're gonna interrogate me?"

"Probably, I don't really know." Phil stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks away from Dan, into the window of the restaurant. "I've never brought someone to meet them before."

Dan's heart skips a beat. Phil is so carefully not looking at him, his profile lit by the evening sun and streetlights, and Dan can't remember him ever needing to break eye contact to say something. Phil has been the calm, confident one since they met.

Maybe this means something to Phil that Dan hadn't considered. He swallows hard. "Hey. If this is - weird, or whatever, I don't need to be here."

"It's not weird to me," says Phil. "I'm happy to bring you, I just really didn't expect it from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dan asks.

Inviting himself to a family dinner just so he could spend more time with Phil was a bit cheeky of him, sure, but Dan doesn't know what the issue is, if Phil doesn't think it's weird.

Phil laughs softly, his eyes flickering back to Dan just for a moment. "You just keep... surprising me. You want me to tag you on Instagram, you want me to hang out with your friends, you want to meet my family. It's just not what I expected, I guess, since I know you're not, like, out."

"I - what?" Dan bleats, his blood rushing to his ears and making it harder to hear the surrounding din of London.

"It's fine," says Phil, misinterpreting the question. "I don't mind taking things slow, but we've been on, like, three and a half dates and you haven't kissed me, but you wanted to come tonight. You can see where I got surprised."

As soon as the initial shock settles, it hits Dan all at once: Phil thinks they've been dating this entire time. He thinks Dan wants to meet his parents as someone who he's been casually seeing, not as a friend who's been gathering the courage to push himself into something less platonic.

Dan has to bite back some hysterical laughter. Phil probably thinks he's the most frigid guy in the fucking world.

He's glad that Phil isn't looking at him, doesn't have to see the shellshocked confusion and inappropriate amusement that he knows is being broadcast across his face.

"Three and a half?" Dan repeats. His voice sounds far too high to his own ears.

"I don't really count drinking with your coworkers as a date," Phil laughs. He turns back to Dan, and Dan uses every ounce of his training to bring his expression back to something less telling. "No need to look so worried. My family's nice."

Dan is sure they are. He considers fleeing for half a second before he remembers that he wants to be with Phil.

He doesn't think this is a conversation that needs to happen on the pavement while people are waiting for them inside, so. He'll let Phil take the lead on the conversation and summon all the acting chops he has to make Phil's parents like him. Then, when they're alone again, Dan will be honest about the misunderstanding.

On the bright side, he can absolutely pitch this concept to a Netflix producer as an oblivious lesbian romantic comedy. He's just annoyed at himself for making him live it.

This is ridiculous. He is in a ridiculous situation right now. Before he follows Phil inside, he texts Jaime a quick, ok so im in a romcom after all and in a shocking twist of events im also very very stupid.

WHAT DID YOU DO

Dan doesn't reply, because he has to get into role now as someone who totally knew that the coffee and the Chinese food and the hungover vegging out were Dates.

--

Phil's parents do seem nice, which is something of a relief. His mum is a tiny whirlwind of cheer, giving Phil a hug and a few kisses to his pink face before she turns to Dan and exclaims, "You must be Daniel!"

She hugs him, too. It's an odd sensation for Dan, but he awkwardly pats her on the back. "Yeah, uh, hi. Sorry for crashing your party."

"Nonsense," she says, with such feeling that Dan actually believes her.

"Dan, these are my parents," Phil says unnecessarily, sliding into the booth across from a quiet man with Phil's smile. "Kath and Nigel."

"Nice to meet you, Dan," Nigel says, taking the name cue from Phil. He shakes Dan's hand when he sits down next to Phil. It makes Dan a little emotional, seeing these people genuinely pleased to meet him, even though he's a man.

"Daniel, sir," Dan corrects him politely. He gives Phil a sidelong look. "Only this one calls me Dan."

Phil just shrugs, looking a little smug.

"Your brother should be here soon," Kath says, looking over the drink menu. "Any idea if he's bringing Cornelia? I have a scarf to give back to her."

"You could always just give it to Martyn," Phil suggests. They both laugh.

"Yeah, alright, love, if I want it to get lost on the way."

Dan bites his lip and looks at his own menu. Phil is so comfortable with his parents in a way that he doesn't know if he could ever be with his own. Even if he were to let them into his life and they were to accept him for it, he thinks it might be too late for them to really bond.

Now's not the time for this crisis on top of the one he's already having, though. He tunes back into the conversation, which is still on the whereabouts of Phil's brother.

Nigel notices him looking up from the table and gives him a smile that's all Phil, reassuring and a little sheepish. "So, Daniel, tell us about yourself. Phil hasn't told us anything but your name."

"Must be ashamed of us," Kath sniffles, overdramatic, and Dan decides he likes her.

"I'm just not that interesting," Dan laughs.

A little scoff comes from beside Dan. "Shut up," says Phil. "Dad, Dan is one of the stars of that Netflix show Heatwave. He's just being modest."

"Oh, yes," says Nigel, a spark of recognition going off. "It's been in our list for a while, hasn't it, dear?"

"It has," Kath agrees. She beams at Dan in a way that radiates pride, and he almost can't look at her. It's too sincere, too open. He wants to hide away from it. "That's lovely, Daniel, you must work very hard."

Luckily, Dan is saved from having to think of something appropriate to say instead of just crying on her shoulder by the arrival of a lanky man.

"Budge up," he tells Dan. He's got the same air of familiarity that Kath had, that Phil had back when they met. It occurs to Dan that he's been chalking that up to Phil's media training, and the real answer may just be that this is the way he was raised to act. He already feels more comfortable here than he has at a table of his own family members for many, many years.

Dan scoots over, closer to Phil. Their thighs press together through their tight jeans, and Dan wonders if Phil can feel the heat radiating off him in waves. He kind of expects Phil to shuffle along the bench, too, but he stays where he is.

"Manners," Kath scolds as he folds himself into the booth beside Dan.

"Oh, right," says Martyn. He grins and offers a hand for Dan to shake. He has a loose grip, like he doesn't care to make a specific impression. Dan likes that, so used to too-firm handshakes and weird manly pats on the back from the people he interacts with at work. "Alright, mate?"

"Alright," says Dan. "I'm Daniel. You must be Martyn, unless you're Cornelia and another tall man is joining us."

"Don't think we can fit another around this table," Martyn says easily. "Nah, Corn's at home. She's feeling a bit ill, sends her love." The last part is directed to Kath and Nigel, who nod in eerie synchronicity.

"I'll have to give her scarf back on our way back," says Kath.

Their waitress arrives then, and Dan finds it entertaining to watch as three Lesters subtly compete to make her laugh while she takes everybody's drink order. He catches Nigel's eye and they exchange a small grin. Dan has never considered himself particularly quiet - he's more like the local class clown, no matter how old he gets - but he's content to sit back and let Phil and Martyn argue around him while Kath asks the waitress about her day.

She looks almost prepared for it when she turns to Dan, so he dimples up at her and says, "I like your nail polish."

"Thank you," she says, still smiling but looking more and more like she wishes she'd given this table to someone else. Dan takes pity on her, doesn't try to drag out the joke longer like he normally would.

"Wish I could pull off that colour," he adds, his heart pounding even though Phil's family probably won't judge him for it. "And, uh, I'll have a mojito, if that's okay?"

"If that's okay?" Phil murmurs into Dan's ear, making him shiver.

"Shut up," Dan whispers back, stepping on Phil's foot under the table. Phil kicks him back lightly.

"Absolutely vile," Martyn says in the sort of easy tone that comes from chirping people you love. He doesn't sound at all like he means it. Dan's shoulders tense anyway. Phil's grin flickers, like he notices.

"Shut up, Mar," Phil suggests, mildly enough that his parents can't reprimand him for it if they were the type to.

Martyn shrugs and starts talking to his mum about something that Dan can't follow, so he doesn't try to. Now that nobody is paying attention to them, Dan drops his hand to Phil's knee and squeezes. It's a thank you and a reassurance that he's fine, all in one.

With a small smile curling at the corners of his lips, Phil puts a hand over Dan's and leaves it there. His palm has got a very slight chill to it, like Phil is somehow cold despite being pressed against Dan in the corner of a booth.

They're practically holding hands. Dan turns his own hand over and links their fingers together in a fit of desire to say that he is holding Phil's hand. Dan is holding a man's hand under a table in public, with that man's family chatting around them, and his heart is fucking pounding like he's trying to run a marathon. He hopes his palm isn't sweaty.

If it is, Phil shows no inclinations of pulling his hand back anyway.

As the evening goes on, Dan finds himself relaxing more and more. The Lesters are warm and funny people to be around, talking over each other comfortably and doing their best to include Dan in jokes. The food is good, too, which is always a core part of Dan's happiness.

But the fact that Phil hasn't let go of his hand this whole time is really what's making Dan feel at peace. Their dominant hands are free to eat with, so they just... don't pull away.

Dan has a silly thought, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he always wants to eat on Phil's left. The mental image of them trying to be pressed this close together on their dominant sides, elbows knocking while they try to eat, is enough to make Dan swallow a giggle.

Phil's family don't ask him too many questions, but Dan finds himself offering the information anyway. He finds that he wants to impress them, make them think that maybe he's good enough for their son.

"I went to uni in Manchester," he says when Nigel says he misses the city sometimes. "I - didn't finish, I moved to Chicago."

"That's quite a long way to move," says Kath. "Whatever drew you there, love?"

For a moment, Dan thinks about lying. Surely Phil's parents would like him more if he was responsible, followed a job or even a relationship to America, but Phil is looking at him so curiously that he has to tell them the truth.

"I wanted to pursue acting in America," says Dan. "And a friend in Chicago said I could stay in their spare room. Then they rented out the spare room before I got there and neglected to tell me, and I ended up couchsurfing for a bit until I could afford to go to L.A., which sucked."

"That's impressive, actually," Martyn says around a mouthful of pasta.

"Manners," Kath scolds again, reaching across the table to swat lightly at Martyn's wrist. She gives Dan a warm smile. "He's right, Daniel, that was very brave of you."

It hadn't felt brave or impressive while it was happening. Dan's early twenties had felt like he was constantly on the edge of a cliff and he was just trying to dig his nails in and pull himself up. The long bouts of depression didn't make it any easier, since Dan would end up isolating himself, not showing up to work, or doing stupid shit just to feel something.

Things didn't change for him in an instant. He didn't find overnight fame or anything like that. After years of staying on that cliff with small parts and long nights, he got lucky with a Netflix gig three years ago.

Still, he supposes it sounds impressive to people who don't know the full story, and it's certainly something to be proud of in any case. Broke on a stranger's sofa in a foreign country to doing a worldwide press tour in less than a decade isn't something Dan takes for granted.

Dan shrugs instead of voicing his internal thoughts, smiling a little. "I miss Manchester too, sometimes, and I was only there for a year. I can't imagine how y'all feel."

"We do miss it occasionally," Nigel says. "But we like where we are now, don't we, dear?"

"Oh, it's perfect for us," says Kath, beaming at him with such obvious affection that it makes Dan's heart clench. He can't remember his mum ever looking at his dad like that. "And so beautiful, too! You should see it in the winter, Daniel."

"The Isle of Man, right?" Dan asks for clarification, and he smiles when the table agrees in a chaotic overlap of each other.

"Mum's right, it's really pretty in the winter," says Phil. "I never want to leave after Christmas."

Martyn snorts. "Sure, it's the Manx views, not the mince pies."

"It can be both!"

"What do you do for Christmas, love?" Kath asks, and Dan startles a bit at the question. He's quiet for a beat too long, maybe, because Phil squeezes his hand and responds for him.

"Mum," he says, almost sounding embarrassed, "it's been two weeks, stop trying to invite him to holidays."

"Just thought I'd ask, Philip," says Kath. She's just as cheerful as she was at the beginning of the night, and Dan thinks her smile actually grows when he starts blushing. "It's not like you've ever introduced us to a boy before, we thought it must be rather serious."

Honestly, Dan would love it to be serious. But it hasn't even been the two weeks Phil thinks it's been. They aren't on the same page at all right now. Dan feels confident they'll get there, but he doesn't want Phil to feel put on the spot now.

He rubs his thumb over the back of Phil's hand in a comforting gesture and grins sheepishly. "Ah, that's my bad, Kath. I'm only in town til Sunday and didn't want to miss a minute, to be honest."

"Where d'you live?" Martyn asks, beautifully giving Dan an out from the Christmas topic.

"Atlanta," Phil answers for him. Dan wonders if Phil has always sounded so wistful when he says the name of Dan's city. The city that doesn't feel like home.

Martyn whistles low, through his teeth, and sympathetically says, "That sucks." It's that, more than anything, that makes Dan physically feel the ache of the Atlantic that's going to be between them. He leans a bit closer into Phil, like that'll help fill the gap that isn't there yet.

It does suck. Dan has finally figured out what he wants and who he wants it with, but his job is four thousand miles away.

Still, he knows what he wants. He knows that Phil, clearly, wants it too. That's a first step.

--

Dan is feeling warm and loose from the cocktails he'd had with dinner and the easy acceptance of Phil's family. He sways into Phil's personal space on the pavement while Phil waves down a taxi and murmurs, "We gotta talk when we get to your place."

"Okay," Phil says, slow. His brow is furrowed in confusion or anxiety or some combination of the two, and Dan longs to reach out and smooth the lines with his thumb.

He does remember where they are, though, and keeps his hands firmly in the pockets of his borrowed jacket.

The ride back to Phil's isn't very long, but it is quiet. Phil looks out his window the whole time, and Dan looks at Phil. He's so beautiful, it makes Dan's head spin that he could ever want the same thing as Dan.

Phil's family seemed to think Dan would be sticking around, in any case. Kath and Martyn both gave him hugs goodbye after they finished with Phil, and Nigel had squeezed his shoulder tightly in lieu of one. Dan can't believe how welcoming they were to the first man their son had ever brought home.

This certainty of how he feels, how he wants his life to go, is making Dan a bit stupid with bravery. He pulls out his phone and sends some very impulsive texts.

To Jaime, he says, nothing major im just stupid! we'll talk abt it when ur here. To his agent, he says, if HW is ending can we look for work that's in the uk? we should hear back from the producers soon. To his mum, he says, There's something I need to tell you and I don't know if you'll still want me to come over on Saturday. It's a long story, but. Basically I'm gay.

Dan's heart is in his throat. He turns off his phone before anyone can respond, refocusing on Phil's profile.

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 10

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 4,286 for this chapter (45,795 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"Daniel?"

Dan blinks. He blinks again, zoning back into the conversation he's supposed to be a part of.

"Er," he says, sheepish. "What was the question?"

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Daniel?" the woman asks - the interviewer asks, fuck, this is like the sixth time he's asked her to repeat herself. "I heard you were ill yesterday, weren't you?"

He wasn't. But that is what Jaime and Patrick had sworn up and down to anyone who asked, because they're good partners in crime like that. They look like they regret it now.

"Yeah, Daniel," Jaime says, stressing his name in a way that makes Dan think she's one more fuckup from smacking him in the back of the head. He'd probably deserve it, at this point. He can't remember being this scatterbrained in his whole life, and that's saying something. "You sure you're okay being out of bed?"

The word 'bed' gets stressed too, just a bit, and Dan feels a flush creeping up his neck.

It's honestly unreasonable how he can't seem to focus on the task at hand, which is answering softball questions about the show he's worked on for three years, because his mind keeps drifting back to Phil.

Phil, who he'd left in bed with Thor, all sleepy noises and grumpiness at Dan needing to leave. Phil, who has the day off and might still be mostly naked and lazy while he waits for Dan to come back. Phil, who he only has three days left with.

Three more days in London. Two sleeps. And Dan has shit to do every single goddamn day of it.

This is a work trip, technically. They've got a handful of interviews the next two days that couldn't be scheduled for their first London stretch, and then they're going to France. That's exciting, it is, a mark of success that Dan never expected for himself, but right now he's frustrated by anything that cuts into the time he could be using to kiss Phil.

Dan is so busy remembering how Phil's mouth had felt against his that he forgets to answer the question. He can practically feel his eyes glaze over.

"Daniel," Patrick says, audibly exasperated.

It takes a lot to get Patrick to that point, so Dan ducks his head and mumbles another apology.

"He's fine," Jaime tells the very nice and concerned interviewer whose name Dan has long forgotten. "He's just got a lot on his mind right now and he's really shit at multitasking."

"Hey," says Dan. It's a weak protest.

The interviewer is a tall woman with kind eyes that crinkle into laughter lines when she smiles at him. She's dressed casually, has a denim jacket with patches and pins all over it, and Dan feels his eyes linger at the rainbow on her pocket.

What is that like? To be so certain and so confident that you can wear it on your sleeve even in a professional environment? Dan doesn't know that he'll be able to get there.

He wants to compliment her on it. It's the same urge he had in the restaurant with Phil's family, vocalizing that he wishes he could wear more nail polish. The same swirling anxiety of being judged for it follows quickly, but this time it's amplified by the recording device in the interviewer's hand, the knowledge that anything he says right now will be analyzed to death later.

Dan wants to live authentically, and he wants to get to a place where he doesn't need to hide, but he's frustrated by the reality of how much progress that's going to take. It's not going to be easy, it already hasn't been, and it's never going to stop.

Even with making a name for himself and having an audience, Dan knows that coming out publicly still won't stop strangers from making assumptions about him or demanding an explanation for the women he's been seen with. He'll have to come out over and over and - it's scary. It's really scary.

The compliment catches in his throat. He can't say it to someone recording him, no matter how kind her eyes are. He hasn't even told his grandma yet.

"I like your jacket," he says instead. He feels like a coward for it.

"Thanks," the woman says brightly, looking down at herself and tapping one of her bigger patches. "Customized it myself, obviously. It's a wee bit more colourful than you like to be seen in, right?"

The casual chirping helps Dan relax, reminds him that this is a laid-back interview with easy questions. Nobody is shining a heat lamp on him and asking for an expose on how he spent part of last night inside of another man.

He grins and shrugs. "Yeah, alright, I wear a lot of black. Sue me. I can still think colours look nice on some people."

Great. Now he's thinking about Phil again.

"Like Jaime," Patrick offers, tugging at one of Jaime's bubblegum braids. Dan still can't tell if it's a wig or not, but she smacks Patrick's hand away like it's her own hair.

"That's true," says Dan. "Jaime wears as much black as I do, though, I dunno that she's the best example."

Patrick nods, solemn. "At least her hair is interesting."

"Oi, fuck you. Sorry," Dan adds sheepishly. Even though this is an online print interview, he still feels a little bit of shame whenever he slips up and curses during an interview.

The woman - Cara? Catherine? Camilla? Ca-something? - just laughs and waves his apology off.

With an ease that Dan can't help but notice isn't quite as practised as Phil's, the interviewer moves on to questions about their other cast members. While they don't have any trouble making fun of each other, it's even more fun to exaggerate stories of people who aren't here to defend themselves.

Dan tries so hard to participate. He does. He laughs in all the right places and gives Jaime grief for not remembering something right, because he's given this poor interviewer nothing of substance. The thing is that Jaime is better at telling stories and Patrick is so dry and stoic with interrupting jokes that Dan knows he isn't needed for this. He lets them bicker over a story detail that he's long forgotten and feels himself start to zone back out.

He listens to Patrick's slow timbre, Jaime's trill of a laugh, and lets his mind drift back to where it wants to be.

--

Even though it's tempting, Dan isn't stupid enough to text Phil in the middle of doing his fucking job. He has to resort to checking his phone between interviews and pictures, getting more and more pouty about the lack of response to the things he's sending throughout the morning. Phil must be having a lie-in, because it takes him a couple of hours to even see Dan's texts.

ugh i should have just stayed in bed

pls send thor pics

and you pics but like give me a heads up if your dick is out im at work

i dropped my coffee on jaimes lap fml shes gonna kill me

im just so distracted lmaooo

canft believe youre just asleep thats so rude

Oh nooooooo. I always cry over spilt coffee :( you want me to bring you one? I can come hang out for lunch!

The sweet text is accompanied by a photo of Thor asleep on the sofa, his little head pillowed on Phil's knee. Phil is wearing Dan's pyjama pants and - it's hard to tell for sure, with the way the photo is angled, but Dan thinks he's got the Friends shirt on. Frankly, that should be gross. Dan wore that shirt for way too long for it not to smell like, well, his sweat, and that is objectively not sexy.

Dan feels gooey warmth spread from his stomach outwards, anyway. Maybe it is gross, but it makes him happy to think about Phil's shirt smelling like him the way that his own Yeezy shirt still faintly smells like Phil. He covers his mouth with a hand so nobody milling around will see him grinning like an idiot.

thats ok, Dan texts back one-handed. yall look comfy you should stay. i'll b back for dinner and snuggles ok?

Ok! ^_^

God, but Dan wants to be there now. He wants to be the one cuddled up with his head in Phil's lap. He recognises that it's very stupid to be jealous of a dog, but he isn't going to let that stop him.

"Hey, Howell." Patrick's voice interrupts the daydream of slender fingers carding through Dan's hair.

Dan blinks. He blinks again, looks up.

"I didn't even see you sit down," Dan tells him, bemused. They're sharing a bench in the building's lobby, not wanting to go too far in case they need to go back upstairs for more photos during the short break in their day.

"Yeah, you're on another planet," says Patrick. Dan wishes he could argue that fact. "Things went well with your whole Love Actually emergency, then?"

The reference pulls Dan up short. He feels his brow furrow as he walks through the entire film in his head. "What are you talking about? None of this happened in Love Actually."

"It's British, isn't it," Patrick says nonsensically.

"I don't," Dan starts, but then he gives up. He and Patrick are close as coworkers - friends, even - but Dan never quite understands the links that Patrick's brain makes. "It went well. It went really well. I don't know if Jaime told you everything I texted her, but I like... fully ended up meeting the family."

Patrick's eyebrows raise slightly. That's quite a reaction, from him. "You met the parents? Bro. You just started dating."

They're not in an overly crowded area, but people keep waking by them on their way in or out of the building, so Dan is pleasantly surprised to discover that Patrick can play the pronoun game, too.

"Yeah," says Dan. He doesn't want to get into the mix-up right now. He's sure that Patrick will have another incomprehensible reference when he hears about it. "But it just feels... I dunno. Right? In a way other people haven't? Maybe that's obvious."

"It's not obvious," says Patrick. He's snapping a hair elastic around his wrist idly, the gesture something Dan had thought was an expression of annoyance or frustration when they first met. Dan knows now that it means Patrick is tired, that he wants to shove his hair off his shoulders and stop it from tickling his neck. They're only halfway through their day, though, still a couple of photoshoots to get through, so he can't put his hair up just yet.

Dan knows so much about these people. He's learned it all from such close proximity for the past three years, but he also genuinely likes spending time with them. He feels, suddenly, very guilty for wishing cancellation on this thing they've all worked so hard for.

"Sorry," Dan says.

"For what?"

He doesn't really know how to voice it. He shrugs. "For being a shit coworker right now."

Patrick gives him an indecipherable look and shakes his head. "Daniel," he says, "you're not being a shit coworker."

"I kind of am, though," says Dan. "Like I can't focus at all, I'm missing interviews, and I... I don't know how much I want to go back to Atlanta. Is that bad?"

"Why would that be bad?" Patrick hums. "This is your home."

Home isn't an easy concept for Dan to wrap his head around. He hadn't had a happy one for most of his life, hadn't been able to find somewhere that felt quite right ever since he escaped that. So it's a little disconcerting when Patrick's words settle into his chest and feel like indisputable truth.

"London is home," Dan echoes, wondering it it feels just as right coming out of his own mouth. It does. His head is spinning, a bit.

"Yeah," Patrick says, like it's that easy.

Dan gives himself a little shake back into the present. He smiles, wry. "Still, I probably shouldn't be crossing my fingers under tables for the producers to shut us down."

For a moment, Patrick looks confused. Dan is all ready to apologise again, shove those feelings down, but Patrick just says, "So negotiate your contract. You know that you aren't required by law to see the show through to the end, right? You can just not come back for season four, or only come back for a couple episodes instead of a full season."

They're sat in a fairly public area, with other people walking about, but Dan could hear a pin drop in the shattering silence that rings in his ears at Patrick's use of logic.

"I," says Dan, "did not think of that."

Patrick nods. "You kind of tunnel-vision sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

--

By the time Dan returns to Phil's building, he's talked himself into and back out of quitting his job a dozen times. It's a dumb decision, but not much dumber than simply waiting for someone else to make the decision for him.

He decides to call Amy when he's in France and talk the options through with her. She's already looking for potential gigs in the UK for him, so hopefully the conversation isn't going to come as much of a surprise to her. The last thing he needs is for his agent to get upset with him over making changes in his life.

Dan's head is buzzing with it, loud enough to give him a headache. He texts Phil that he's outside and waits to be let in. He gets an intrusive domestic fantasy of letting himself in with his own key, and reminds himself to rein in this U-Haul bullshit.

"Hey!" Phil beams as he opens the door and steps back for Dan to come in. Other people live on the other floors, but Phil still leans in for a long kiss the moment the door closes behind Dan.

It sends sparks up Dan's spine and quiets some of the unending noise in his head. He sighs, leans into the kiss, wraps his arms around Phil's waist to pull him even closer.

He's cognizant of where they are, though, so he pulls back to rest their foreheads together after a moment. "Hey yourself."

"Did you have a good day?" Phil asks, his tri-coloured eyes bright and unguarded.

"Yeah, but it's better now," says Dan. He's parroting what Phil said to him yesterday, and he can tell that Phil recognises it from the little smile on his face. "You look nice. You showered just for me?"

Phil laughs and tugs at Dan's wrist, pulling him down the stairs. They've got four left feet between them, honestly, so it's a miracle nobody takes a nosedive.

"Yeah," he says as they narrowly avoid any number of broken bones. He presses Dan against the wall next to his front door and grins at him. "But it was also for the judgey moms at the dog park. You look nicer, you didn't take the makeup off?"

To be honest, Dan had forgotten it was even on his face. He settles his hands on Phil's hips and smiles. "They made me look like the best version of me, why would I erase all their hard work?"

"Mm, you do look pretty," Phil says, and Dan is lucky to have his back against a wall. His knees might have actually buckled at the praise if he was unsupported.

"Pretty, huh?" Dan asks. He tries to keep his tone dry, like it's a big joke, but Phil's big eyes just see too much.

"Very pretty," says Phil. Dan doesn't know how to handle being complimented by Phil's deep, sincere voice, but he isn't given much of a chance to react before Phil is speaking again. "But I don't know that I'd call this the best version of you. You looked really nice when you came, y'know."

"Fuck, Phil," Dan laughs, a little breathless. "I was literally gone for ten hours."

"Ten hours too many," Phil grumbles.

Dan laughs again, but he has to admit that Phil has a point. The day had absolutely dragged on with the knowledge that his probably-boyfriend was waiting for him.

"You wanna go inside, then?" Dan suggests, running his thumbs just under the hem of Phil's clean shirt. "I'll do a lot of things, but this floor is cement, mate. I'm not blowing you out here."

The giggle that's surprised out of Phil makes Dan smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. He smacks the center of Dan's chest lightly and steps back to let them both into his flat. "I was thinking we could, like, order dinner first or whatever, but I'm not going to complain if you want to switch up the itinerary."

"The itinerary," Dan mocks, looking around for a ball of fluff running directly at them as he struggles with his shoes. "Uh, where's Thor?"

"Uh," says Phil. There's colour high in his cheeks that he tries to hide by flopping onto the sofa. The sweats he stole off of Dan don't really leave much to the imagination at all, not when he's sitting like that, and Dan almost loses his balance when he stands up straight. The pink doesn't leave Phil's face, but a knowing smirk joins it. "He's in the bathroom."

Dan's heart skips like an old CD player and he laughs to mask just how fond he is. "Uh huh, and here you are acting like you were really ordering food first."

"Well," Phil says, his smirk growing, "we could still order first, it'd be at least twenty."

"Sounds like a challenge," Dan hums, coming around the sofa to sit on the other end and lean forward, kissing the sliver of skin where Phil's shirt is riding up. "Why don't you do that, and I'll go get a bloody condom."

Phil blushes, proper blushes, and pulls a packet out of his pocket. "Ta-da," he jokes, weakly. "For my next trick -"

"If you say you're going to make your penis disappear," Dan says, flat, "then I'm walking out."

They just look at each other for a long moment, like a staring contest neither of them initiated, and then Phil snorts. That sets them both off and soon enough they're laughing, Dan's nose tucked against Phil's hipbone and Phil's hand over his mouth.

"I wasn't going to say that," Phil insists, still giggling. "I wasn't."

"Sure you weren't." Dan grins up at him and slides up his body, a little less graceful than he'd imagined it in his head. He presses their smiles together and licks into Phil's mouth. A little noise passes between them when Phil's hands find their way into Dan's hair, but Dan isn't sure which of them it comes from.

The giddy feeling of laughter doesn't leave Dan's chest. He lets it make a home there as he trails kisses all over Phil's long, pale neck. He doesn't need to guess when Phil likes something - he squirms and makes these little huffs of noises, grip on Dan's curls tightening just a bit before it loosens again. It feels impossibly powerful to learn how to take Phil apart like this, like they're teenagers snogging on the sofa in their first relationship.

It's strange that this does feel like a first relationship for Dan, in a lot of ways. He loved his first girlfriend and cared about other women he's dated, but it's not the same at all.

Finally, Dan is allowed to feel all the things he's supposed to have felt when he was younger. He's allowed to let budding affection and lust and friendship all wrap up in one person.

"So, the piercings," Dan murmurs, letting his hand slide up Phil's shirt to toy with one of them.

"What about them?" Phil asks. He already sounds impatient and needy, like he had last night, and the sound of it goes straight to Dan's dick.

Dan laughs and sits up, helping Phil get his shirt off over his head. "I mean, do they do things for you? Do they feel good when I touch them? How do you want me to touch them to make them feel good?"

"Do you always ask this many questions during sex?" Phil asks, dry.

There's no point in lying. "Yeah, I tend to babble." Dan gives him a winning smile and taps at Phil's hips, a silent request for him to lift up. Phil does happily, arching up for Dan and letting his stolen sweats get tugged off. "Guess you'll have to shut me up somehow."

Phil laughs, muffling the sound of it with his palm, and shakes his head. He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, giggly and naked and starting to get hard against his thigh. Dan has no idea how he got this lucky.

"That's such a terrible line," Phil informs him, grinning wide. He doesn't seem bothered by Dan being dressed when he isn't. He just settles back against the cushions and wiggles a bit, either trying to get comfortable or just teasing Dan. Either is possible at this point.

"It's not a line," Dan protests, shrugging his jacket off and settling back between Phil's legs. He presses his mouth to Phil's soft tummy and, unable to help himself, blows a raspberry.

Phil kicks out at him, instinctive, and his tongue is trapped between his teeth as he tries to hold back giggles.

"My nipples aren't sensitive," Phil tells him, voice wavering with some combination of amusement and arousal. He drops a hand to wrap around his own cock, thumbing at the metal on the tip of it. "This is. It, like, tugs. It's nice."

Biting back a groan at the sight, Dan digs around for the condom. He impatiently knocks Phil's hand out of the way to get him hard enough that he can roll it on. The piercing just above his balls settles nicely at the bottom of the latex, almost like it's holding it in place. Dan rolls it between his fingers, watches Phil's eyes flutter closed. "And this one?"

"Not as much. Still good, though." Phil's tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Dan grins at the unconscious reminder of what he's meant to be doing.

It's not the most comfortable for them to be laid out on the sofa like this, lanky as they are, but Dan isn't nineteen anymore. His knees do not hold up the way they used to. He wraps his hand around the base of Phil's cock and lets the tips of his fingers idly play with the metal bar as he finally gets his mouth on Phil.

Dan isn't used to the taste of latex accompanying a blowjob, but it isn't unpleasant. He gives Phil a couple of long licks and then sucks lightly at the head, not sure how much pressure Phil likes yet.

That's something he thinks he'd love to learn. He wants to know everything about Phil's body, wants to make him tremble with it.

Dan is extremely offended when he glances up and sees that Phil is tapping something on his phone, but the offense settles when Phil huffs a laugh and says, "Put in for takeaway. All yours, now."

The phone gets put down and Dan tongues at the bump of Phil's Prince Albert ring through the condom. That makes Phil's breath hitch, his hips jerk just a bit.

It's been years since Dan has had a cock in his mouth, but he likes to think it's like riding a bike. He takes Phil deep, hollows out his cheeks, repeats any motion that makes Phil let out soft groans. He forgot how much he likes this, fuck.

Much like everything else, it's somehow impossibly better with Phil.

Phil keeps a hand in Dan's hair and braces the other on the back of the sofa, breathing hard, and Dan doesn't want to close his eyes and miss a fucking moment of this.

"Fuck," Phil breathes, and Dan responds with an answering moan around his dick. "Yeah, alright, that's - fuck, Dan, you feel so good, look so pretty like that."

The praise still makes Dan shudder. He sucks Phil harder, feeling the weight of Phil's cock on his tongue as he speeds up his movements.

Dan remembers blowjobs to be pretty fast. He also never gave one to a man older than twenty, though, and his jaw starts to ache once he realises that Phil isn't going to be pushed over the edge as quickly as he's used to.

He pulls off to give his jaw a break, stroking Phil and pressing his open mouth along the side of him.

"You think I feel nice?" Dan laughs, pleased by the way the gust of air makes Phil's cock twitch. "Fucking, forgot how good this feels."

"Yeah?" Phil prompts, his voice deep and breathy and so, so nice to listen to. No wonder he's so successful on the radio. "You like sucking cock?"

Dan shivers. "Yeah," he says. He's unashamed, because he feels safe here with Phil. He can admit to liking a cock in his mouth, a hand in his hair, being called pretty. "Yours specifically, though."

Phil laughs. "That's good. I like specifically your cock, too." He looks over at his kitchen for a moment and raises his eyebrows. "I'll get dressed and answer the door when the pizza gets here if you can make me come in the next five minutes."

Well. Never let it be said that Dan Howell backs down from a challenge.