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dvp95 · 5 years ago

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quiet on widow’s peak (1)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, youtuber phil lester, dan howell is not a youtuber, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter & 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. Bingo squares: met on tumblr

new wip? NEW WIP.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

The wind is loud in this one. That's frustrating, and it makes Phil's job a lot harder, but he can't control the weather. Be cool if he could. He does his best to level out his voice and the background noise of Mother Nature before he settles in with his good headphones and really cranks the volume.

It's even more annoying to listen to the alternating crackle and whistle right in his ears. Phil has dealt with worse during this whole process, though, so he finds the strength to power through it. He listens to the full thing three times, scribbling a few timestamps down on a Post-It pad as he does. He takes a break after that, does some stretches around his tiny bedroom and tiptoes out to get a snack without waking the whole damn house, and then he's right back in his apparently ergonomic office chair to subject his ears to more of this nonsense.

Wind, wind, and more wind. And sometimes just Phil's own voice. Nothing of note.

Phil is about to give this video up as a loss altogether when he hits one of the final timestamps and... can't figure out what that noise is.

For the first time since he opened this file, Phil grins. He exports the clip and plays around with it in Audacity. Some videos are always more fun than others, and Phil had felt like he was slogging through this one until now.

"Do you hear that, Theodore?" Phil murmurs. The tiny cactus on his desk, thankfully, does not respond.

It sounds like a person. It sounds like a person, whispering, and it definitely isn't the wind, and it isn't Phil's own voice, because he's in the middle of a question in this clip.

Phil might just be going crazy from sleep deprivation or wishful thinking, though. He pulls out his phone and texts the only group chat that doesn't cause him anxiety, which is comprised of the housemates that he actually gets along with. Anyone up? he asks, adding a single eye emoji for good measure.

Even though it's gone two in the morning, he gets immediate responses from all of them. A string of vaguely dirty emojis from Chris, a simple yeah from Sophie, and a cheerfully morbid did you know that insomnia leads to an early death? from PJ.

Wanna listen to a noise for me?

Within three minutes, Phil's bedroom is full of people in various states of sleepiness. All of them are in ridiculous pyjamas - including Phil - and PJ's hair in particular has taken on a mind of its own. Phil's room isn't really big enough for all of them, so there's some awkward shuffling before PJ claims the office chair. Phil sits at the foot of his bed with Sophie and Chris on either side of him, pressed close against each other's shoulders. It's a good thing he likes these people.

"I mean, it isn't the wind," is PJ's confident opinion. "Did you have anyone with you?"

"No, it's just me and my camera against the world," says Phil.

"No need to be a twat," Chris informs him. He taps at PJ's upper arm, impatient. "Let me have a go, then, if there's something there."

Chris is famously bad at hearing things in white noise, but PJ acquiesces the seat easily enough. Phil laughs, watching them do a weird step dance around each other in the small space between Phil's bed and desk.

"I can't hear any specific words," PJ says as he flops down across Phil's pillows, making himself comfortable. Phil just nods, because neither can he.

"How d'you know it's a person, then?" Sophie asks. Her voice is probably the only one soft enough for the hour. Their other housemates hate them for their frequent all-nighters, but Sophie is kind and quiet enough that she slips under the radar.

"You'll see for yourself."

When Sophie goes to respond, Chris interrupts in a hilariously loud voice, as if he's forgotten that having headphones on doesn't mean they can't hear him. "It's some kind of ghoulie or ghostie! I can barely fucking hear it, Philly, why didn't you mic it?"

"Why didn't I mic the ghost?" Phil asks, bewildered. Naturally, Chris doesn't hear him.

Sophie taps Chris on the shoulder and stands, leaning over his shoulder as she takes her turn listening to the sound clip over and over. Chris spins in the chair a few times and gives Phil an unhinged sort of grin.

"You got something this time," says Chris. He sounds like he's having just as much fun as Phil is, now that there's actually a thing to listen to besides his own voice and the loud, loud wind.

"I think so," says Phil. "Why didn't I mic the ghost?"

"I'm saying it would make your job a lot easier if you mic the ghost, yes."

"If I could mic a ghost, I'd be a millionaire."

"Then you better get on it, eh?" Chris laughs, spinning a bit faster. Phil has never seen the man sleep. It's a little bit worrying.

"Sure," Phil says, giving up on trying to teach any logic to someone who's clearly long lost their hold on it. "Next time I spend all night in a graveyard, I'll mic any spirits that might be hanging out."

"Shut up," Sophie tells them, mild.

Chris mimes zipping his lips, wrapping an easy arm around her waist, and PJ laughs.

For the first few months they all lived together, Phil had struggled to keep up with whatever dynamics were going on between the three of them, but he's long since given it up as something he's not going to understand.

After a moment of quiet, Sophie nods. "I hear it," she tells them. Even with the headphones on, she's quiet. "It's not words, I wouldn't put any subtitles over it."

"Yeah," PJ agrees. "Just let your audience duke it out in the comments like they always do."

"Thanks, guys," Phil says, feeling a sort of warmth sink into his shoulders. He notices that Chris is pulling up another application and half-heartedly protests. "Chris, you don't need to edit this one for me. I still haven't paid you for the last video." Or the one before that. Or the three or four previous. Phil has it written down somewhere.

"Don't be stupid," Chris hums, already clicking around erratically. It makes the editor in Phil want to scream, but he has to admit that Chris manages to find more weird visual stuff to isolate than he could on his own.

"I feel bad," says Phil, chewing his lip.

"I've told you," says Chris, "you can pay me back in chores and sexual favours."

PJ's slippered foot knocks against Phil's hip, and he grins brightly when Phil turns to him. "You know, I do have a bit of a laundry backlog."

"Funny thing, that," says Sophie.

Biting back a laugh, Phil shakes his head. "Alright, alright. Everybody leave their laundry in front of my door tomorrow."

"That's a no on the beej, then?" Chris asks, raising a single eyebrow and pointing dramatically at Phil. It has been near two years of this, and Phil is still too afraid to ask if it's a joke.

It's not as if Phil's answer would change if it wasn't a joke, because he's not interested in Chris, and he's especially not interested in becoming entangled in whatever nonsense his housemates have gotten themselves into. But, still, he might be kinder about letting Chris down if he were being genuine.

"That is a no," Phil confirms. "But I will wash your pants."

"Kinky," says Chris. He turns back to the screen and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture. "This is pretty shit. You know that, right?"

Yeah. Phil does know that. It's getting harder and harder to have the same optimism in every video that he'd had when he first started recording his wanderings around the supposedly-haunted places of Rossendale. He'd brought the camera with him when he left, but might have left that optimism behind. Phil only kind of believes in supernatural things - the way he only kind of believes in giraffes or true love - but it's been more fun than anything else to pick up a camera and try to find some evidence.

He's been doing this since he was nineteen, though, and he's getting a little bored by the formula of it all. Go into a haunted place, try to communicate with the spirits, pick up some garbled words or creepy noises, highlight visual oddities like orbs, and let the internet tear it all to shreds. Honestly, he'd have more fun making proper horror at this point in his life.

Phil shrugs and pulls his knees up to his chest. He wants to hide away from the sympathy in Sophie's eyes, from Chris' blunt words. "Yeah. I'm getting kind of... I don't know. Restless."

"Maybe you should ask people to submit things again," PJ suggests. "That went well last time."

It had, actually. Phil had needed to sort through a lot more ridiculous stories and obvious hoaxes than usual, but he'd found some nuggets of gold in all that hay. Or however that saying goes.

"People did like having their stories read out," Phil says slowly. "I'd just need to be extra sure that nobody's, like..."

"Ripping off r/NoSleep," says PJ.

"Yeah, exactly."

"We can help," Sophie says, and Phil could cry at how easily PJ and Chris agree with her.

He really doesn't deserve to have such great people around him. They've got work and lives of their own, but they're always happy to spend time crowded around Phil's computer listening to weird noises together. Phil sometimes wonders what they get out of it. Do they just like helping him, the way he has fun holding the boom for PJ's films or testing Sophie's concoctions? Or are they just as fascinated as Phil by the weirdness of it all? Do they want to see the cool instances of paranormal activity, too? At this point it feels nearly impossible to ask.

"That's going to be a lot of washing pants for me," Phil sighs. He doesn't know how to thank them, not when they always just wave it off.

"Sure is," says PJ. "But you should... ask the audience!"

"Your Chris Tarrant is pretty good," says Phil, only a little surprised by it. PJ's voice is as much of a tool to him as the rest of his body, and it's one he's always been skilled with. The impressions still tend to catch Phil off guard sometimes.

PJ tips an invisible hat. "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week."

At his friends' not so gentle encouragement, Phil makes a few posts on his socials to ask his followers for new creepy things to explore. It might be the middle of the night in Brighton, but he has a feeling that Chris isn't leaving his desk until he's found every instance of an orb or strange shadow in the fifty minutes of currently uncut footage.

It seems like Sophie is on the same page, because she excuses herself to make tea for everyone. PJ leans over Chris' shoulder and watches the clips without sound, his lips moving as if he's murmuring to himself.

Sometimes this feels more like a group effort than Phil is comfortable with. He's never been very good at asking for help. As grateful as he is, he still itches with the need to take back control of the situation. He uses the slow trickle of fan submissions to distract him from that feeling, because all three of them do make his videos better when he stops being so possessive over his footage. Phil flops onto his back and scrolls through the incoming emails, tweets, and Tumblr messages to see if there's anything promising.

For the most part, the answer is a resounding no. Some things are blatant lies - there are countless ripoffs of films or novels that Phil happens to be familiar with, a few things swiped from creepypasta or subreddits, and his usual amount of conspiracy theorist fans insisting that some high profile person or other is a lizard - but most of it, to Phil's dismay, just doesn't grab his attention the way he wants it to.

Sophie comes back with tea and snacks. She leans her head against Phil's shoulder and watches him cycle through his apps, fact-checking idly and sighing every time something easily proves to be a hoax. Her hair smells like coconut and she makes a soft humming noise every time she lifts the mug to her lips. Her presence alone, small and warm and supportive, is enough to keep Phil from throwing his phone across the room and having a right sulk about how his career is in a tailspin because nobody makes ghosts like they used to. At some point in the night, Sophie's breathing evens out to the point that Phil thinks she's asleep, but then she reaches out to tap a tiny finger to his screen.

"What's this, then?" she murmurs.

Phil has been zoned out entirely for at least fifteen, and he blinks back into reality. There's a new message in his Tumblr inbox, one that seems like it must be over the character limit for asks. He must have submissions turned on or something, that's the only possible explanation for an actual essay being sent to him. It's barely broken into paragraphs with very little punctuation and no capitalization, and Phil has been staring at screens for far too long to try and parse this on his own.

"Can you please make sure this isn't, like, the entire Bee Movie," Phil asks, handing Sophie his phone with only a slight twinge of anxiety. He trusts her not to go snooping, but. Still. "I need to pee."

"Mhm," Sophie hums, already apparently lost in whatever stream-of-consciousness has been dropped into Phil's inbox.

The floorboards in this old Brighton house creak, and Phil has always envied some of his housemates for being able to sidestep the noises. It doesn't seem to matter how long he lives here, how much he tries to avoid making any noise, it's like the floorboards are determined to creak under Phil's weight. He winces as he passes two bedrooms whose occupants surely don't appreciate creaking outside their doors at such an ungodly hour.

At least he doesn't run into any walls this time. The nightlight in the bathroom at the end of the hall is the only thing lighting Phil's way, and he tends to stub his toes on absolutely nothing in this kind of semi-darkness.

When he makes his - very, very creaky - way back to his own room, he's bewildered by the scene that greets him. PJ and Chris have joined Sophie on his bed, and all three of them are poring over Phil's phone as though they're looking at a map to the Holy Grail.

"Hello," Phil says slowly, closing the door behind him. It creaks, too. "You aren't going through my pictures, are you?"

"No," Sophie and PJ chorus without looking up.

"You got nudes on here or something?" Chris asks with a mild sort of interest, clearly also too engaged in Phil's phone to put his all into the flirting.

"I don't," says Phil. It doesn't sound convincing, even though it's true, and he waits for Chris to tease him about it some more. When he doesn't, Phil has to admit that he's curious. "So I guess it isn't a meme or something?"

That makes them look up, in almost comedic synchronicity. Sophie blinks a few times, as if she's coming back to herself. She holds out Phil's phone and shakes her head.

"It's not a meme," she says. "And near as we can tell, it's genuine."

Phil joins them and takes his phone back, adjusting his glasses. His bed really wasn't made for four people, but his housemates have never had any personal space amongst themselves, and Phil isn't one to say no to human contact when he isn't getting it anywhere else.

The message is just as hard to read as it was at first glance, but Phil puts his brain to work. If his friends are reacting like this, it usually means he's in for something good.

hi ok so the thing is that this is completely ridiculous and i dont think its what youre looking for at all but theres a building near my uni thats got a ton of stories around it and it only started happening like this year like it isnt an old obviously haunted type of place but theres a lot of weird shit that goes down there so i found all the references to it online that i could and ive summarized them here (w/ sources ofc im not a dick) and its all just this side of strange so it seems like the sort of thing you might be interested in ok here we go SO

And it goes on like that. Phil feels his eyebrows raising as he clicks the provided links in the following walls of text, which are exactly what they're advertised as. Not a single rickroll in there. Just a handful of posts on Reddit and Facebook and independent blogs about various experiences people have had with a particular abandoned building in -

"I know this place," Phil says, surprised. He looks up at PJ's grin, Sophie's wide eyes, Chris' palms rubbing together in exaggerated interest. "I've been to parties here. Well, okay," he corrects himself before his friends can do it for him, "I've gone with Martyn to parties here and left early."

"Yeah, it isn't far out of Manchester," PJ hums. He bounces in place a bit, like he's suddenly energized enough to go jump on the soonest train up north.

"It didn't seem that weird," says Phil. "It's been a few years, I guess, but it wasn't even that scary."

"Sounds like it's only just started, though," Chris pipes up.

Phil isn't sure how much he likes that. The idea of a place he's been a few times, half an hour from his childhood home, being so suddenly full of haunted activity feels... weird. Still, it's catching his interest in a way that nothing else has in months, so.

"I'll look into it some more tomorrow," he decides, glancing at the time. His brother is probably still awake, to be honest, but Phil doesn't want to be that guy asking 'hey, do you remember the Wilkins place?' before dawn has even broken. Again. He has definitely done that sort of thing in the past. "I'll have plenty of time while I do, what, seventeen loads of laundry?"

"Something like that," PJ laughs. "Want us to clear out?"

As nice as the company and help has been, Phil still feels a rush of relief at the concept of being left alone again. He nods, still scrolling idly through the Wilkins place submission.

It hits him, very literally, too close to home to ignore. He wonders if his fan knows that, if this is somehow an elaborate prank that will end up just wasting Phil's time, but he's too curious to leave it alone. He'll just have to ask around, see if anyone else has heard these murmurings.

Til then, maybe he ought to try and get some sleep. Phil's computer, still open on the editing software, tempts him.

Well. What's another couple hours at this point?

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #qowp..... mayhaps i made a mistake w this title......#quiet on widow's peak #YES it's another marianas title what are you the marianas title police?#bingo

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jorzuela · 4 years ago

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Dnp tag meme!

Thank you to the wonderful Nina for tagging me! I actually hadn't done this one before. @natigail

1) Last dnp related video I watched:

youtube

I wanted to refresh my memory on their mental state during this video since i was reading about it on a few posts. In my opinion they were the kind of unhinged i get when i haven't slept for 3 days.

2) Last phanfic I read: It was today's update of my favorite sluts and their shenanigans by @dayevsphil

3) Last phanart i reblogged:

Love the style of this piece and how cool Dan looks. It's by @queenusagiblog, sorry for putting the link to my reblog, if you want to share it do it from the artist's blog. I'm on mobile and this trash has been messing with my drafts so I'm terrified to go back and forward.

4) Last edit/gif/etc I vibed with:

I honestly hadn't noticed this so this is another reason why i rewatched the video. Ps: do you guys remember the debate on whether Phil spanked Dan right out of frame to get him to go get the food? Fun times.

5) Last song I listened to that is actually about dnp: it was toxic as well, but the postmodernjukebox version. I'm using it in one of my writing playlists. 👀

I'm tagging anyone who is currently in the prb in any capacity, if you see it, you are tagged as well as any of the people who joined the phandom post coming out. I would tag my friends but they never do the tags i give them 😤.

#Tag meme #Tag thingy #Dnp

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et-in-cinerem-reverteris · 5 years ago

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

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

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

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

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

Click me to read on Ao3!

Or keep reading under the cut...

Chapter 4 - Louder Than Bombs

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

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

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

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

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

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

*rat-tat-tat*

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

“Hallo! Ho-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds daunting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Schu...verload?”

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

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

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

“Nice view you’ve got from up here.”

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

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

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

The other boy guffaws. “Like me?”

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

“Busy day?” Dan grins.

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

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

When he awakes, Dan is staring straight at him.

“Hmmm, what? Did I fall asleep?”

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

“Hey.”

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

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

Suddenly, the eyelashes open.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

“What?” he whines through the pillow.

“You didn’t close the window!”

“Close it then.”

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

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

“I can’t, it’s too much.”

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

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

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

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

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

A smirk lets itself out. “Maybe.”

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

Okay.

Enough.

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

Chapter 4.5 - Rubber Ring

Phil had been asleep.

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

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

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

“Dan?”

“G’d evening”

“W...what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Fancy a stroll?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just might be in love.

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

“Mmmm, nothing.”

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

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

Dan laughs. “No, not quite.”

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

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

“Dan! The porters aren’t drunkards.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” Dan whispers.

“What?”

“Shall we walk across the grass?”

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

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

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

“Dan stop! For fuc-”

“Catch me if you can!”

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

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

That’s it, Phil thinks.

Time to put Dan in his place.

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

“Ow, shit! My head!”

“You alright?”

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

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

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

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

“Evidently not.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Eurgh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that-”

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

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

“Beneath the opera house,

I know he’s there,

He’s with me on the stage,

He’s everywhere.”

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

“And when my song begins,

I always find,

The phantom of the opera is there,

Inside my mind.”

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

“Since once again with me,

A strange duet.

I power over you,

Grow stronger yet.

You give your love to me,

For love is blind.

The phantom of the opera is now,

Your mastermind.”

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

“Those who have seen your face,

Draw back in fear.

I am the mask you wear.”

Another expectant look from Dan. Oh!

“It’s me they hear!”

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

“My spirit and my voice,

In one command.

The Phantom of The Opera is there,

Inside your mind.”

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

“The Phantom of the Opera,

He’s there.

The Phantom of the Opera.”

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

“Sing once again with me,

A strange duet.”

“My power over you

Grows stronger yet.”

“You give your love to me ,

For love is blind.

The Phantom of The Opera is now,

My mastermind.”

“Sing my angel of music!” Phil cries.

“He’s there,

The Phan-tom of the O-per-aaaaa”

“Sing once again with me,

For a strange duet.”

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

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

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

“Of course.”

“You have the most incredible voice. Seriously.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi - that’s Lance Lester to you!”

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

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

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

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

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

“For eight o’clock.”

“Eight o’clock. Right.”

Dan’s face falls.

“My God.”

“What? What’s the matter?”

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

Phil raises an eyebrow.

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

“It’d be my pleasure.”

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

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

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

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allthephils · 6 years ago

Text

Repose

Chapter 10

Rating: Mature (adult themes, sexuality, sleeping beauty au)

word count: 4,285 / 30,435 so far

Read on Ao3

Dennis had brought something to play music on, a portable CD player. When he handed it over, Phil had just sort of looked at it, prompting Dennis to call it vintage. Phil wondered if he actually owned any CDs but he said thank you just the same. It had a radio so he tuned in the classical station and left it playing for Dan when he wasn’t there or when he ran out of things to say. Most days started with a recap of Phil’s morning, then a summary of whatever media Phil thought Dan might be sorry to miss; Bake Off, Game of Thrones, Stranger Things. The kitchen started bringing Phil coffee when he arrived and lunch a few hours in to his visit. A few days, he brought cakes from the bakery by his flat. He’d sit and eat and reminisce, telling their origin story again and again. He always brought a cake for Dan, just in case.

In the seven days he’d been coming to see Dan, Phil had only seen the family the one time. This was just fine with him. He’d grown accustomed to the ride with Dennis and was so familiar with the other guard, it was like he wasn't there at all. The fervor over Phaniel had died down slightly. This was partly due to the royal family issuing a statement about Daniel showing promising signs due to receiving a new “treatment.” The crowds had mostly dissipated but for a few diehards who showed up every day and made a lot of noise about the curse and giving them their chance. Phil figured none of that was his concern and was happy to leave the politics to someone else. His time with Dan was about keeping him in this almost awake state he was currently in. It was theirs and theirs alone. Today was no different, until, half way through his in depth analysis of the latest Avengers movie, when there was a knock at the door. It was a brief knock followed by an abrupt intrusion.

“Really, Adrian, knocking? He’s my bloody son, for Christ’s sake!” Prince Walter stormed inside, disturbing the peaceful sanctuary Phil had carefully crafted. Adrian shuffled in behind him, watching his feet.

“Oh, Hello sir. Hey Adrian.” Phil moved to hug Adrian but stopped short. Water was glaring at him and it seemed it might be best to figure out why.

“Hello Philip.”

“It’s Phil…”

“What’s all this? You brought plants? I assume you aren’t actually planning to light those candles. You do realize Daniel has no idea any of these things are here?” Walter was unhinged, pacing the room, waving his arms about as he spoke.

“Well I just thought…”

Walter paid no attention to Phil at all, continuing his tirade over the absurdity of this plan of action. Phil sat down and waited, figuring it was no use to try and interrupt again. He watched Adrian, trying to convey compassion whenever he was able to catch his eye.

“You’ll need to clean all this up, take it with you when you go.”

“Wait, when I go?” Still no acknowledgement from the prince. “Sir... Sir!” Phil had had enough. He felt for this man, he really did, but he wasn’t going to sit here and be verbally abused for doing what he was asked to do, for being a friend to Dan. “Walter!” Phil barked his name and Walter finally stopped. He turned, his jaw clenched and looked at Phil.

“Beg your pardon, sir, but what do you mean, when I go?” Phil spoke carefully, his tone measured.

“I don’t know what my wife told you, but she’s not herself. We can’t carry on with this charade indefinitely.” Walter’s voice echoed off the walls.

Phil felt like he might be sick but he screwed up his courage. Someone had to stand up for Dan, someone had to be his voice.

“All due respect, Sir. Your wi- Princess Danielle seemed to be very much in control of her faculties when I saw her. I may not totally agree with her view of what’s happening here but she is his mother…”

“And I’m his father.” Walter interrupted harshly.

“I understand that. And I can’t imagine what this is like for you. But, she’s his mother and she seems to be willing to do whatever is necessary to help him.”

Walter threw his hands into the air and began pacing again. “Yes, we all are Phil, all but you, it seems.”

There it was. It had crossed his mind a few times over the course of the week, that the family would likely hold Phil responsible because of his unwillingness to buy into the whole curse thing and his refusal to kiss Dan. He knew it would come up but he had hoped Dan would wake up before it had a chance to.

Adrian tried to help, “Father, that’s really not fair. Phil is the only one who…” He swallowed the rest of his words when Walter held a finger up in his direction. It was the first time Phil had seen them act like a family, a dysfunctional, angry family, but a family.

Phil did his best to sound sympathetic. “Sir, again, I don’t mean to overstep, but Daniel has been right at the edge of consciousness since I’ve been coming here. If we could just have a little more time together.”

Walter huffed but Phil went on.

“Do you really believe in this curse? Do you really think a kiss is what he needs? From me?”

Walter raised his chin, looking down his nose at Phil.

“What I believe is irrelevant, Philip. By the time I take the throne, I’ll have one foot in the grave. There are important political ties, negotiations, arrangements, that rely on the relationships that I have personally built. Daniel needs to be there to step in. My heir will survive this and he will take his rightful place in history with a queen by his side.” Adrian stood silent, his lip quivering. It was not lost on Phil that Walter talked like he had one son. One son that was clearly just a pawn in a game to him. “Unfortunately, you seem to be the person Daniel decided to devote himself to. So yes, he needs a kiss. From you. I would do anything if that weren’t so, but it is. So, if you aren’t willing to play your part, then you will need to leave.”

Anger surged in Phil’s veins and he got up, walking to stand a mere foot from Walter. He hadn't noticed before now that he was at least a couple inches taller than him. Try and look down on me now, Walter.

“Adrian, would it possible for you to ask your mum to see me?” He stared into Walters eyes as he spoke to Adrian. “And your grandmother?”

Walter looked ready to strangle Phil, “Now you wait. That’s a step too far.”

Adrian had slipped out the door and Walter called after him to no answer.

“You don’t just casually ask for an audience with the queen.” Walter’s fists were clenched. Phil stood tall, inside he shook like a leaf but he faked confidence.

“I just did.” Phil smiled an artificial smile and Prince Walter walked heavily out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Phil slumped into his chair and dropped his face into his hands. He cried, mostly out of residual fear and frustration.

“No offense but your dad’s kind of a dick.” He said to Dan, then he brushed the curls away from his forehead. He found Dan’s fingers again, linking them with his, like he had been doing at the end of most days. “I wish you could tell me it’s OK. I wish you could tell me what to do.”

They didn’t wake up spooning, they woke up facing away from each other, each clinging to their respective edges of the bed. There was enough room between them for the rest of the party to join. Phil rubbed his eyes and rolled over. Dan was sitting up in bed, phone in hand.

“Hey, What time is it?”

Dan jumped a little, smiling, so happy to see Phil first thing in the day. “Ten. Dennis is on my ass to get going so we definitely shouldn’t lay down and have a morning snuggle.” By the time the words were out, Dan had tucked a leg between Phil’s and wrapped his arms around his waist.

As he fell asleep last night, Phil had told himself that they needed to have some real conversations before things went any further. He had vowed to keep his hands to himself and not get carried away. But now, he found himself all tangled with Dan once again and all he could do was smile. They’d be on their way soon, what harm could a cuddle do? Dan wriggled against Phil. “I like waking up with you.”

Phil opened his mouth to agree but a knock on the door interrupted him.

“Sir, you have 3 minutes or I come in.” Dennis was not messing around. Phil jumped out of bed and pulled on his jeans and shirt at record speed. He ran to brush his teeth, Dan laughing behind him.

“Let him come, what difference does it make?” Dan stretched and took his sweet time getting up and dressing.

The living room was quiet, empty, but for a mess of empty beer bottles and dishes. The food from last night had been pushed to one end of the dining room table but not cleaned up. Dan lead Phil to an empty chair at the end of the table and sat him down. He leaned over and said “You relax, beautiful. I’ll get us coffee.“ He gave Phil a quick kiss and walked into the kitchen.

PJ sat, peering over his mug which was held to his lips in a perpetual state of almost drinking. He stared at Phil, an inquisitive look in his eyes. “Sleep well lover?”

“Um yeah. Thanks. It’s a big bed, innit?” Well this was weird.

“So tell me, Phil, what are your intentions with my friend?” PJ slurped his tea.

“Um, my intentions? Um, I guess I…”

PJ laughed a raucous laugh and shoved Phil’s shoulder. “Don’t worry ol boy, I’m just toying with you!” The room was quiet enough that Phil could hear the waves crashing outside through the open patio doors. Dan was tapping his toe to some song in his head, waiting on the coffee maker, oblivious. Phil watched him with an involuntary smile on his face. Dan’s shirt was wrinkled and he had terrible bed head, he had pulled on Phil’s socks, and his pinky toe stuck out of the hole that had formed. He had never seen anyone so beautiful in all his life. He’d had crushes, so many, but this feeling he got from just looking at Dan, it was new and big and somewhat overwhelming. PJ hadn’t stopped staring and now he leaned in close, “He really likes you Phil. Like really likes you.” Phil still watched as Dan poured the coffee, whistling.

“Yeah, That’s the impression I get. Don’t worry PJ, I really like him too.”

PJ looked serious, “Yes I know. But Phil, you know it’s not going to be easy, right? Are you prepared for what it might be like to be with Dan?”

Phil considered this, “Well, no. But I feel like this might be one of those things in life, where you just do whatever you have to do.”

Dan set a steaming mug in front of Phil and sat, splashing cream into his own coffee. He was chatting about taking a more scenic route home so he could show Phil more of the coast. Phil was only half listening, he drank his coffee too fast and burned the roof of his mouth.

There were only a few pairs of shoes by the door now. Phil slipped his on over Dan’s socks and brought Dan’s to him.

“Oh. Are we in a hurry?” Dan asked.

Phil brought his cup to the sink. “No, I mean, maybe. I do have a few things to do at home.” He was just ready to be out of this place. He wanted a shower and he did not trust himself to take one here. He wanted fresh clothes and even though he liked PJ, he wasn’t in the mood for any more best friend scrutiny right now.

“Ok, yeah, we’ve been here all night. Of course you’d want to get home. Sorry.” Dan stood and stretched, reaching his arms high above his head. “Thanks for this PJ, it was great.” He put a hand to his chest, “I appreciate you.” PJ walked over and hugged Dan tight.

“Anytime buddy.” PJ’s hands were on Dan’s shoulders and he looked him in the eye, paternally. “You’re always welcome here... You and Phil are always welcome here.”

Dan smiled widely at that and ducked away to get their jackets, a little embarrassed at the connection.

“Yeah, thanks PJ, this really was lovely, like a mini vacation.”

Phil hoped that would be the end of it but PJ pulled him in for a hug and whispered, “I’m glad it’s you, Phil. If he’s gonna fall for someone, you’ll do just fine.”

Those words, fall for someone, they danced around Phil’s stomach. Phil was sure of Dan. He was totally unwilling to admit it out loud this soon, but still he was more sure than he’d ever been of anything. He was also really scared, scared that his feelings would grow even more intense, scared that they wouldn’t. And scared that he’d be too much for Dan, that Dan could never possibly feel the way Phil did. But those words, from Dan’s trusted friend, if he’s gonna fall for someone, Phil suddenly felt lighter.

The drive home took a little longer than it should have. Dennis drove along the coast for a bit before jumping onto the main road. It was beautiful. Phil told Dan about the Isle of Man and the time he’d spent there with his family. They stopped for coffee and pastries and settled in for the drive. Phil couldn’t remember being so comfortable doing nothing with anyone before. Usually, he was incredibly nervous being alone with someone he hadn’t known for ages. He usually felt compelled to fill silences before they became awkward but the things he said to fill them only exacerbated things. It wasn’t like that with Dan. He could just coexist with him, no pressure, no pretense.

It was Dan who broke through the quiet with a question, asked just above a whisper. “Phil, have you ever been in love?”

The answer spun like a tornado in Phil’s mind, Yes Dan, with you, I’m in love with you. It was difficult to form any other words but he managed, “I think so.”

Dan brushed crumbs off his lap then off of Phil’s. “How long to you think you have to know someone before feeling like that, before you can say you love them?”

Phil thought Dan must be able to hear his heart for how hard it was beating. “Well, I think it depends on the people and how they met and how they spend their time. And anyway, love isn't just about knowing someone, it’s deeper than that. My dad says he knew the first time he saw my mum. He felt it. And look at them now.”

Dan took Phil’s hand and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Dan, you said there are stories you should tell me.” They were stuck in this car, maybe they should get this stuff out of the way. “No time like the present?”

Phil could feel Dan’s sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, ok. Let’s talk about that. There's stuff about my family, obviously, where do I start? Like, before we met, what did you know about me?”

“Um, well, I grew up watching the Christmas specials with my mum. I lost interest once I got a Tamagotchi. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Funny, but I rediscovered you just a few months before we met.” Phil said, casually, not realizing the implication. He sipped his coffee.

“Wait. You rediscovered me? A few months ago? What does that mean?” Dan had lifted his head and now he was looking right at Phil.

Phil tried to hide his fluster. “Oh, I just exposed myself, didn’t I? Shit. My friend Louise is like a total fangirl for you, but I never really paid attention. And then I saw your photos, when you left Eton. That’s all. There’s no story.”

“Oh no you don’t. There’s always a story. What do you mean you saw my photos? Where?” Dan’s voice had gone high pitched.

“In a tabloid, they published your photo, in your Eton uniform, with the pink socks.”

Dan laughed and Phil continued, getting lost in the memory.

“And you were looking straight at the camera. You looked so...cool. Just enigmatic and fucking cool. I bought it, first one I’d ever bought, only tabloid I’ve ever bought. I didn’t read a word, just ripped out that photo and…” He trailed off. Phil wondered why his filter always showed up a few seconds too late when he was around Dan.

Dan looked scandalized in the best possible way. “And? Phil Lester, you spill right now. You ripped out the photo and what? What did you do with my photo, Phil?”

Phil’s cheeks turned a deep red. “I just, I just kept it.” He cleared his throat. “ In my nightstand.”

“In your nightstand!?” Dan had Phil by the shoulder and was shaking him back and forth while Phil struggled not to spill his coffee. “Oh my god. You wanked to me. You wanked to me! This is illuminating. How often? How many times? Sorry, sorry, none of my business, but how often?”

Phil covered his face with his hand and pulled his knees up, willing the earth to open up and swallow him immediately.

He peaked through his fingers, looking to see if Dennis had heard. Mercifully, there was music playing in the front seat and it he didn’t seem to be paying attention. He put his forehead on his knees and hid.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Dan lowered his voice. “Honestly Phil, that’s hot. I’m flattered. Maybe that’s not the appropriate response, I don’t know. Really though, it’s kind of sweet.”

At that very strange assessment, Phil lifted his eyes, raising his brows. “Sweet?”

“Yeah.” Dan breathed a laugh. “You know, when I saw you in that bakery, you were like something... from a dream. My brain was like, hey there he is. There’s the guy. It was like I’d been looking for you, without knowing I’d been looking for you, and then I found you.”

Phil wasn’t sure he was breathing to he put a hand to his chest to be sure. “Dan.” He said.

“I winked at you because I couldn’t stop and I was nervous and my default defense mechanism is to try and look cool.”

“That wink,” Phil shook his head, “that wink stayed with me.”

“I thought of you all that night.” Dan continued. “I couldn't get your face out of my head. It’s a good face.”

“I thought of you too. It was your hands though. I couldn’t get your hands out of my head.” Phil’s heart beat with the memory of that starstruck thrill.

“My hands? You went home after I winked at you and thought about my hands?”

“Yeah. I did.” Phil wasn’t hiding anymore and Dan wasn’t laughing. They were breathing in sync and talking low, tension building with every confession. “I took the picture of you out of the drawer but I’d seen you in real life and I had that wink and your dimples and your hands. So I didn’t need it.”

Dan swallowed, he set his hand on Phil’s thigh, just above his knee, and rubbed his thumb slowly back and forth. “Didn’t need it for what, Phil?”

That was all Phil could take, he didn’t care about Dennis anymore. He couldn’t remember all the good advice he’d given himself. All he knew was the hand on his leg and those lips he couldn’t take his eyes off of. He leaned in, closing the space between them, and they kissed. It was a slow, deep kiss, not unlike their first but more knowing, they’d learned each other some. They ran fingers through each other’s hair, Phil's hand roamed over Dan's back, then Dan’s hand moved. It moved up Phil’s thigh and inside between his legs before Phil’s hand flew down to stop it. Dan pulled away, apologizing, and Phil took his face in hands.

“Dan, you are not making this easy.” Phil tried to steady his breath.

“I’m trying to make it easy,” Dan muttered, his eyes half closed.

Phil shook his head and smiled at Dan, taking his hand and settling back in to his seat.

“You’re the one that said we shouldn’t skip any steps.” He said, gently.

Dan leaned back and let his head roll to one side. “I know, I know. You’re right. I’m just...very ready for the next step, Phil.”

“Ok good cuz the next step is talking.”

Dan stuck out his bottom lip. “You’re no fun.” Phil just held his hand tighter.

When the car pulled up, Dan looked to Dennis. “I’m gonna walk Phil in, ok?” Dennis gave a disapproving snarl in the rear view mirror. Leaning forward over the seat, Dan pleaded, “Please Dennis, I’ll go up the stairs, say goodnight, ten minutes. Fifteen tops.” Dennis rolled his eyes but nodded.

They rushed inside and up the stairs, holding hands. As soon as they stepped into the lounge, Phil turned and pulled Dan in, kissing again, filling every second they had. A gasp game from the sofa and they both jumped, splitting apart.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Louise moved her laptop from her lap and jumped up in her stocking feet. She stood and curtsied deeply, looking at the rug.

Phil laughed. “Louise, what are you...get up you goof.”

Louise’s face matched the shade of her hair, pink. “But you’re the… You’re prince Daniel. Oh my god, Phil.”

“Seriously, you don’t have to do that for me.” Dan put his hand out, “You must be Louise, I’m Dan.”

She laughed a low maniacal grumble of a laugh. She couldn’t contain herself. They shook hands and she gave Phil a hug and a wide eyed, open mouthed look of wonder.

“I assume you didn’t get my text?”

Phil pulled out his phone and read, “In your hood, two hours to kill before my next meeting. Wanna hang?” then, “I’m coming over to drink your coffee and rest my tush on your sofa. See you soon.”

Louise shrugged, “You didn’t answer so... I still have the key from when you went to that thing in Australia.”

“It’s totally fine, I wasn’t paying attention to my phone.” Phil said. Dan bit back his grin and shifted his feet, avoiding eye contact with a blushing Louise. They all stood silently until Louise burst out with, “Oh! I’ve got to uh...use the toilet...I’ll probably be a while in there...so take your time.” She sprinted out of the room.

Dan started to say that he thought Louise was a hoot, but his mouth was occupied before he could finish. It was a chaste kiss, soft and pressing. Phil held him there for just long enough then closed his eyes, their foreheads touching. “Goodnight Dan. Next time, more steps.”

Dan nodded. “Goodnight wonderful Phil.”

“Actually, it’s AmazingPhil.” Phil’s crooked lips pulled up at one corner.

“Yes, yes it is. I’ll text you.” He turned to leave but stopped and said, “Phil, I’m not gonna see anybody else, OK? Just you, I just want you.”

“I just want you too.” Phil beamed.

Dan’s dimples dug in deep and he tripped on his own feet a little. Then he was gone. Within moments, Louise was there, smacking Phil on the shoulder.

“PHIL! Oh. My. God. Why are you coming home right now? Where did you sleep last night? What the hell is going on? I want details now!”

Phil plopped down onto his sofa. “Louise, he’s 18, he’s just a mass of pent up sexual energy. It’s so hard to resist.”

“So don’t! Are you mad? Help the poor man out!”

“I need a shower.” he saw Louise’s look, “it’s not like that! We went to a party, we didn’t do anything. I just didn't shower over there, that’s all.”

“Ok, dollface. I’m sorry, I’m just so bloody excited for you. He’s the prince for cripe’s sake. And he is lush. That arse alone.”

“Louise!”

“Sorry sorry sorry. I’ll be heading out before you get out of the shower so thanks for the use of your sofa and for introducing me to your boyfriend.” She shimmied her shoulders and began gathering her things.

“He’s not my boyfriend, oh my god. Good bye Louise.” He walked toward his room.

Louise called after him, “Bye Philly, remember the little people when you’re royalty!”

Phil slipped off his shoes and shuffled to his dresser, looking down at his feet in Dan’s socks. Smiling, he walked back to the door, then back to the dresser, watching his feet all the way. He could almost pretend Dan was walking with him and he loved it. He undressed for the shower, leaving the socks for last.

#Phan #phanfic #phanfiction #sleeping beauty au #wip #mature

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dansphlevels · 7 years ago

Text

But Love Is Overrated Anyways (Ch 25): Final Chapter

IMPORTANT: This is the final chapter.

Summary: Dan is an angry mutant with the ability to control the cold. He shares a tent with a man Phil, who has powers over fire but refuses to use it for evil. Dan has no such moral qualms.

Length: 25 Chapters

Theme: Superpowers, Mutants, Dark, Dystopian

Read on AO3 / But Love Is Overrated Anyways Masterpost / All My Fics

Chapter 25: But...

Phil tasted like sweat. There was a saltiness to his lips, and with each kiss Dan tried to decide if he liked the taste or not. Phil’s lips were always abnormally warm, like kissing a person with a fever. It was an enjoyable thing, kissing Phil. He always held on in such a soft, caring way, like Dan could move away if he wanted but Phil was still holding him the way he liked.

"You’re so cold," Phil whispered sultrily, and if it was anyone else it would have been an insult. But for Dan, it was comfort. He smiled into the kiss.

"Thank you."

They weren’t kissing because one of them was hurt, though Phil’s arm was still bandaged from the knife wound. Nor were they kissing because they were exhausted, and needed the warmth of another person: instead, they were kissing each other purely for the sake of kissing each other. Kissing someone you cared deeply about was somehow different from kissing someone because they were a warm body.

As they kissed, Dan felt a painful, warm feeling in his stomach that he knew the name of but didn’t dare say.

Then they pulled away, letting go of each other to catch their own breaths. Dan's fingers drifted up to his lips, touching them for a moment before wiping his mouth. "Keep going?"

Phil's chest was still rising and falling visibly as he nodded casually, "Yeah."

So Dan hefted his pack and they kept walking.

That’s how their days went, every day for almost a week. They cuddled, they spent their time together, they bathed, they kissed, they walked, they slept, not necessarily in that order. They’d gotten into a schedule of sleeping during the night and sleeping during the day, and based on the sun's position in the sky, they were waking up at about the same time every day. It was like clockwork.

They’d gone from a camp of over a dozen people down to just the two of them. They’d lay on the ground and stare up at the sky, and Phil would say something like "What do you think they’re doing right now?" Whenever he said something like that, Dan knew that he was talking about the ones who’d left before Eli came. Maybe the others made it. Maybe, something good happened after Emma's throat was slit and Mandy ran out of energy for force fields. Maybe all of their friends didn’t suffocate to death.

Dan tried to remember the battle, but all he could really recall was the very end. His last memory of Emma kept flashing before his eyes, the frozen outline of her features in the tar. Then the running. He grabbed Phil’s hand and they ran and ran and ran and a girl screamed and they kept running and they were the only ones who ran.

Phil intertwined his hand with Dan’s. "Come on. We should head to bed now."

When they were back in the tent, Dan rested his head on Phil’s chest. He fell asleep to the feeling of Phil gently stroking his hair.

Everything felt a little strange when he woke up, but then again everything had been feeling strange for a while. They packed up and started walking, continuing north, the way the tent was pointed. Dan felt a little woozy, a little backward, and let Phil be in charge of navigating.

They stopped for lunch and ate the last of their provisions. Dan considering bludgeoning another furry wooden creature to death, but there were none around and he wasn’t feeling too well. "Phil, I think I might be sick. My brain feels a little fuzzy, and I have this weird sense of deja vu."

"Hmm. Maybe you ate something?"

Dan looked up at the sky, where the sun was just a little before it’s peak. "That’s so weird. I thought we’d been walking for a long time, I figured it was past noon already."

"I’ll worry about the walking," Phil reassured. "You just focus on getting better."

Whenever Phil said things like that it made Dan’s heart feel warmer, actually warmer, and somehow heavier. What with his blackened heart, and the ever constant tug on his stomach from his powers being used somewhere behind them, it was no wonder Dan was disoriented.

They continued walking soon after, hand in hand, going West, away from where the remainders of their camp were located. Phil didn’t argue anymore. His grip on Dan’s hand was so comforting, the perfect temperature. "You’re getting colder, Dan. Maybe your powers aren’t coming back, but I bet your heat resistance stayed. That’d be nice; I won’t have to worry about burning you."

It was such a sweet thought, it almost made Dan feel bad about lying to him.

It was another two or three hours when a city came into sight with the same high stone walls that surrounded every city. "We should explore it," Phil suggested. "Maybe we could find some food."

As they got closer, it became apparent that the city was deserted. "We should keep going, we won’t find any food here," Dan urged.

"Doesn’t hurt to check."

Dan wanted to argue, but Phil was right. They needed food.

Phil swung their hands lightly as they walked. The city doors were unhinged and barely hanging on so they didn’t even have to break it. It was like the other city, but many houses seemed to be connected in long rectangles, like small barracks; and instead of cobblestone streets, there were dirt roads.

"I don’t think we’re going to have any luck," Dan started. "We should probably-"

"Phil! Dan!"

Dan turned around just in time to see PJ practically flying towards them. He nearly tackled Phil in a hug, laughing so hard he didn’t seem to notice the way Phil’s skin burned his. "We had no idea what happened to you!"

"PJ!" Phil squeezed him back, his voice full of genuine excitement, though he did pull away quickly, aware of his own heat.

"PJ!" Dan exclaimed, a little less excited. "What are you doing here?"

He was so distracted that he let PJ hug him too, even wrapping his own arms around him. "You feel cold," PJ commented excitedly. "Are your powers-"

"They're the same," Phil answered quickly for Dan. "Did anyone else-"

PJ's excitement immediately dropped. "Yeah, the others are here. I have good news and bad news."

"Good news?" Phil asked hopefully.

"Emma’s alive," PJ breathed out.

"What?!"

"Come on, you can see her."

PJ quickly lead them to one of the doorways in one of the long barracks. They came into the damp smelling house that was actually bigger than it appeared on the outside. "Emma, are you in here?"

There was the sound of quick pattering footsteps, then Emma appeared. She immediately broke into a wide smile when she saw them, running forwards. She looked like she’d lost a fight, with her neck wrapped in some off-white cloth bandage. Her honey-colored hair was now greasy and looked physically dirty, almost grayer with dirt.

You’re okay! She sighed quickly.

Dan and Phil exchanged a look. "We’re fine," Dan confirmed.

"What happened? How are you... alive?"

Instead of sighing anything, Emma simply held up her hand, letting black molasses seep from her palm. It poured over her skin before sinking back into it.

"The tar kept her alive," PJ translated. "Seth came looking for her after we'd left, and found her still alive under the stuff. Only barely, though. We think it might be like Mandy's force fields, where it can keep the user in a state where they can’t die, at least temporarily."

It's different, Emma added. I couldn’t save someone else. Tar is heavy and deadly if ingested. I don’t think it would work for anyone else.

She was still signing, and they still hadn’t been told why. It turned out Phil was thinking the same thing. "Why aren’t you talking? Is your voice damaged?"

Dan blinked, an image flashing in front of his eyes of Eli's knife to Emma’s throat, how she let her crumple to the ground with her neck stained red.

Emma touched her throat gently over the bandages. "Her throats damaged," PJ agreed. "We don’t know how badly. Seth managed to give her stitches when he found her, and we’ve been keeping it bandaged, but..."

Still isn’t clotting right, Emma added. Dangerous.

"We were considering cauterizing it."

Phil straightened a little, looking uncomfortable. "Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if the heat damages it?"

PJ shrugged. "We’re running out of options."

"I can do it," Phil decided. Almost unconsciously, he reached out, clutching Dan’s hand. "But I’d have to be very careful. It’d be too easy to overdo it."

Dan was still looking down at their intertwined hands. They’d never shown any signs of their relationship to the others, not even hinted at it.

PJ's eyes flicked down to their hands, then he met Dan’s eyes. He quickly looked away. "You want to do it now?"

Yes. Emma signed.

"Sure. I mean, I can."

"Then I’ll go get Seth, and we’ll do it."

—————-

On the day of the fight, Dan had never finished restocking their water.

They had water now. Phil used it to wash his hands. Then Seth began to unwrap the bandages.

Before he’d started, he and Emma had had a quick paced signed conversation, too fast for Dan to catch it all. Seth, who was born mute, had been signing all his life, but Emma had only learned when she’d met him. Still, she signed just as fast.

Seth unwrapped the bandage slowly with pinpoint provision. Underneath the first layer, the second was completely red. Taking it all the way off was not fun, nor was it fast. When they got down to the bare flesh, Dan could see the wound in its entirety, only held closed by large messily made stitches.

Phil worked quickly, heating his hand. When he started, Dan opted to look away.

He caught PJ's eyes. Neither said anything, and neither smiled. Dan crossed his arms.

When the wound was cauterized, it was wrapped up in fresh clothes and they left Emma with Seth to rest. As they walked out of the hut, Dan kept his voice low. "That was the good news," he recalled. "What-"

"Dan?"

He turned, and before he knew what was happening he was engulfed in a tight hug. "You’re okay," the girl breathed out. As her usual, her dark brown hair was in a bun, her bow over her back.

"Mandy," Dan sighed. He relaxed into the hug, not wanting to let go.

"You’re okay!" Phil announced excitedly.

Mandy still didn’t let go, holding on to Dan tightly. "Oh, Dan. We have so much to talk about."

Finally, she pulled away, but for once Dan wasn't sure he wanted her to. "We do."

"It’s my turn!" Phil demanded, opening his arms.

Dan quickly pushed his arms closed, "You might want to wait on the hugs, hot stuff."

Mandy leaned on one leg. "How much has PJ told you?"

"Mostly only the stuff about Emma. Seth and the others found this place okay?"

"They did."

"What happened after we left?" Phil asked, and Dan almost wanted to invert his skin and curl up in the fetal position.

Mandy breathed in carefully, preparing her words. "A few things. A lot of things. Honestly, I can’t quite remember, I wasn’t all there."

Dan flashed back to that day, so early in the morning it was still dark. They were all sleep deprived, all terrified. They didn’t know if they’d survive.

All of the action blurred together, but he remembered Emma being attacked and falling to the ground, doing her magic survival trick with the tar. Another forcefield was around them at that point. Then Mandy collapsed and the force field, the only thing saving them from death by knife and/or suffocation, fell. It left him, Phil, Mandy, Jordan, and PJ completely susceptible to Eli's cruelty. That was when he and Phil ran.

"There was a short fight," PJ narrated. "She was ready for us to die, but for a few moments, something seemed to be wrong with her powers. She couldn’t use them, and it was frustrating her. Then, right as they came back, we used our secret weapon."

The secret weapon. The one card they didn’t dare play unless absolutely needed.

Mandy sniffed, her eyes still completely dry. "Jordan."

PJ didn’t make eye contact with them. He and Jordan had been friends longer than any of them had even known each other.

"She used her powers," Mandy continued narrating once she accepted that PJ wouldn’t be finishing telling the story. "She shared memories with Eli, and Eli fell to the ground, screaming. It was... it was the most awful sound you’ve ever heard."

"I know," Dan said before giving himself permission to. "I heard it."

Mandy nodded. "I still don’t know, and I hate not knowing. But it broke Eli, temporarily at least. The problem is, Eli wasn’t the only one experiencing the memories."

She let that sink in. In order to share memories with someone else, Jordan had to remember them herself. She could go into someone’s mind and read parts of them, but once she had read certain memories, they were stuck with her. And, from what Dan had heard, they were usually not good memories. Years and years and dozens upon dozens of people’s worth of trauma, all trapped in one person. The only way to get rid of a memory was to give it to someone else.

All those memories, stored inside a girl and repressed for years and years... it was enough to make someone go mad.

"Something in Jordan broke," PJ said finally. "She wouldn’t move. And Eli had gone mad, that much was clear. It was like she couldn’t even see us anymore. So I helped Mandy up, and we left."

"We had to abandon Jordan," Mandy admitted. "Eli followed you two into the forest, but it was like she was on drugs or something. It... it wasn’t pleasant." "Seth found Jordan when he came back to look for Emma. He brought the two of them back."

Then, it was quiet.

Dan licked his lips. Jordan was... she was... there was no point explaining her. She was wise. And motherly. She opened up her wings to all of the other mutants, even if she didn’t show it in the normal way.

Finally, Phil spoke up. "What about Eli? Is she still out there?"

Mandy bit her lip, making eye contact with PJ. "She... was. Until this morning."

"What happened?"

Dan and Phil weren’t holding hands anymore, but if they were, Dan would have squeezed his hand. No. Don't ask that question.

"Should we show them?"

PJ looked Dan and Phil over as if judging their merits. "I guess."

Together, they walked to the gate of the city and walked right through it. They went along the wall for a while, until a figure came into view. Dan knew what it was. He knew what it was even before they approached it, even before they had a chance to look at it up close.

"Oh my God," Phil breathed out. "What-"

"We found her there this morning," Mandy explained. "Just like this."

The figure was touching the wall, leaning close to it. It was hard to tell what she was doing, whether she was trying to listen through it or perhaps climb over it. Eli's eyes were still open, and what had once been a normal smile had been reduced to a cold grin. Literally.

Eli had been trying to sneak into their fortress. And before she could get in, she had been frozen solid.

Eli had been reduced to an ice statue.

————

"You can have the room to my right," PJ decided. "I’ll make sure it has blankets and everything. Real beds."

"Wow, we'll be living like kings."

"And we're having dinner soon. You guys can take a break until then, maybe take some time to process things."

He lead them to the room he was talking about. Room, house, it was mostly the same. The families that had once lived in the city appeared to have lived most of their lives outside, only using the houses for weather shelter and sleep.

They immediately dumped their bags on one of the beds, collapsing together on the other one.

Phil grunted.

"Same," Dan mumbled.

Phil put his arm around Dan's shoulder, exhaling. "Everything kinda sucks. But at least everyone’s mostly okay, and we’re back. And we don’t have to worry about Eli anymore."

Dan hummed. "I’m so glad Emma's okay."

"Yeah. I still haven’t fully processed everything."

"Me neither." Dan slowly reached out, taking hold of Phil’s hand and gently intertwining their fingers together. "I don’t want to go out there," he admitted. "I want to stay with you."

Phil rubbed his knuckles with his thumb comfortingly. "We can stay together out there. It’s not like anyone’s leaving."

Dan rolled over, nuzzling his nose against Phil’s shoulder. There was that feeling again, that horrible warmth that Dan got whenever they were together. Now, Dan knew the name of it.

They stayed there until PJ called them for dinner, where they were reunited with all of the others. They didn't hug anyone, but it was still good. Sitting around with everyone, telling stories and making things up about their past.

"Yeah, well I can beat that. I was a doctor," Mandy lied, smiling widely.

"Oh yeah? What kind."

"Open heart surgeon. And brain surgeon. What can I say, they’d never seen any talent like mine before."

They all laughed, and it felt good, even to Dan, who only smiled. "I can top that," Phil chimed in. "I was a weatherman."

"Ooh, and that’s better how?"

"Being a weatherman is the best job there is! What about you Dan?"

Dan had been practically clinging to Phil’s side, only half there. Phil was so warm, physically... emotionally... amazingly warm. Dan never wanted to leave his side. "I don’t know," he mumbled against Phil’s shoulder. "I guess I was a baker."

It sounded nice. A sweet, pastry filled life. The others quieted down, smiling and nodding in agreement. "What types of things did you bake?"

"Mostly meringues. You know, those little sugar things with eggs?" The other nodded in agreement, some darting out their tongues to wet their lips like they could taste them.

"What about you PJ?"

They kept going around for hours, all settled around a fire as the sun went down. Dan had never been so warm and so cold at the same time.

The younger mutants went to bed earlier than the others. Soon, it was just the six of them: Seth and Emma, Dan and Phil, and PJ and Mandy. They kept talking and smiling until a familiar voice disrupted them.

"I’m sitting in the back of the class away from everyone else. They hate me. And there’s snow..."

"Jordan," PJ said, standing up quickly. "Come on, you’re supposed to be in bed."

"They found out when I woke up and my room was frozen. They were never supposed to find out..."

PJ went over to her quickly, trying to pull her towards the barracks, but she shoved him away. Her shove was weak, like a child’s, despite the fact that Jordan was never, ever weak. Until, it seemed, now. "It’s all their fault!" She accused PJ. "Humans ruined everything! They’re horrible, you don’t understand, they ruined everything!"

"I understand," PJ said soothingly. "I understand you. Come on, let’s go to bed."

Jordan turned and looked at them. Her eyes were wide in misery, and for a moment they locked on Dan. Then they switched to Mandy. "They’re all dead, she suffocated them. They’re all dead... except for her. Him. Her. He has control over her mind, he’s killing her-!"

"Jordan, Jordan. Yeah, that’s your name, remember? I need you to focus. Focus on me. Come on, come back to me."

Dan looked away. He stared into the campfire until PJ managed to get Jordan to bed and come back. "We should probably head to bed now."

None of them got up. Jordan had reminded them about the truth of their situation. "What should we do about Eli?" Dan asked, refusing to look at the others.

"We'll discuss it in the morning, maybe take a vote. We have to decide something. There’s still the opportunity to thaw her."

Dan looked up and made eye contact with Mandy. They both knew that could not happen.

"We’re not in the business of killing mutants," PJ reminded them. "We’re not like her."

They dismissed, going back to their rooms. As soon as the door closed, Dan was on Phil, kissing him harshly and pushing him back against the door. Phil responded immediately, kissing him back. "It’s going to be okay," Phil said in between kisses, both of their eyes screwed closed. "It’s going to be okay."

Dan was crying, he could feel it on his cheeks and taste it on his tongue.

"It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay."

Dan sniffled, finally pulling away and resting his forehead against Phil’s. "Yeah. Yeah. Let’s just... just sleep. I’m just tired, it’s been a long day."

"Okay. Yeah, come on." Phil didn’t notice that Dan’s backpack was gone as they climbed into bed together, still fully clothed, only bothering to take off their shoes. They wrapped around each other, and then Dan closed his eyes and waiting.

It wasn’t long before Phil’s breath evened out, his entire body relaxed. Then Dan waited, for hours and hours it seemed, before he finally got up, carefully disentangling himself.

Outside it was snowing. Just light little snowflakes, and already there was a thin layer on the ground. The moon made it glow. There was no such thing as darkness on a snowy night.

Dan lifted his face to the moon, feeling the ice on his skin. He breathed in the cold, fresh air, before turning to keep walking. He only had a light jacket on, but he didn’t mind. The cold felt good, not bothersome at all. Phil had taught him what warmth was, but this was different. This was all Dan.

His crowbar was at his side as he walked through the city. There were no sounds besides the crunching of his boots on the ice and light snoring sounds from the barracks.

He walked through the city gates easily and took the same path from earlier along the walls.

PJ had said that they couldn’t kill Eli, they couldn’t stoop to her level. What he didn’t understand was what evil looked like. Evil was someone who could kill without remorse, who took pleasure in the act. They heard the cries and saw the pain and didn’t stop. Eli had killed other mutants, mutants they’d never known about, and she’d killed her old camp mates, all of them but Mandy. She did it without remorse. She killed them without remorse. She was evil.

Dan wondered if she’d ever killed humans. If she’d ever stood outside their cities and pressed her hands to the walls and listened as they all slowly, painfully died. That was pretty evil too. Maybe even worse.

The ice statue was already in view. Dan had never tried a trick like that with his powers, directing them to go somewhere else, but he was glad he did. Eli was completely frozen in a moment in time that she would never escape from.

When Dan reached her, he gingerly reached out and touched her frozen arm. He could sense the ice going all the way through. It was all ice, /she/ was all ice. Still, there were some things he wouldn’t risk.

Dan backed up, lifted his crowbar over his shoulder. He breathed in once, then out. Then with all of his force and might and rage, he swung, and Eli shattered into a million pieces.

"Dan!"

Dan whirled around and there was Phil, running towards him. The snow around them was falling faster and some must have fallen into Dan’s chest because just like that, just for a moment, his heart forgot how to pump.

Dan turned around, letting the crowbar drop. His backpack was hidden in the forest, he knew just where.

He checked over his shoulder. Phil was coming closer, followed closely by PJ and Mandy, all sprinting. Phil must have seen the look in Dan’s eyes because he called out to him, but Dan couldn’t hear.

The camp had strict rules, rules that were put in place to protect them. No one made a big decision that would affect the others without speaking to the council or getting direct instructions from PJ or Jordan, but even that was in very specific situations. Dan knew what he was doing; he’d made his choice.

Rapidly getting closer, Phil called out to him through the snow, "Stop!"

Dan took one last look. Then he raised his hand and a wall of ice raised from the ground, thickening with every second. Then he turned to the forest, Phil’s image burned into his mind.

Phil was so, so warm, and made Dan feel things he’d never felt before, and now Dan knew exactly what that feeling was called.

Love.

But love was overrated anyways.

Read on AO3 / But Love Is Overrated Anyways Masterpost / All My Fics

Okay, stop, don’t worry.

There is going to be a sequel!

However, it will not be posted on tumblr, it will only be posted on ao3. I will post on this tumblr when I publish it, or you can subscribe to my ao3 page at DumpsterDiving101.

Until then, here’s a few things to think about. This chapter had a lot of subtle things and allusions, so I want to make sure you noticed some of them. If you have any questions or are wondering if you’re right, my ask box/messages are always open! Things to think about:

How did they get to the camp if Dan was purposely leading them away from it?

Why did Dan did what did in the end?

What traits have you noticed growing in Dan in the past few chapters?

What could happen next?

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this story! I loved writing it, and I am extremely excited about the sequel!

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