#singer!dan

a/n: oh my GAWD we're here. can you believe?? it only took six short little years to write this chapter. genuinely, the most massive thank you to everyone who is still interested in this fic, who sent asks in over the years, who responded to my frightfully introspective a/n a couple weeks back. i appreciate all of you and probably would not be coming back to this fic without that kind of welcome back.

a note on fic vibes going forwards: as i mentioned in the author's note (see the contents last chapter if you missed it), there's a bit of a vibe switch going forward with dan (boi is in his healing era now), though I'm working to make it a natural part of his growth and not a hard stop. you'll definitely start to see that in this chapter and will continue see it in future chapters. also, I've added some updated tags on ao3 to reflect how the story evolved/will continue evolving

as for continuity… let's all remember that it has been 6 years since i wrote this fic last LOL. please bare with me if I contradict anything I wrote in the first volume of this fic. I do my best to search the fic for relevant details before writing something, but sometimes is hard when you don't know exactly what wording past!you would have used. also, i decided that I didn't give a shit about sticking to 2018/2019 references/slang/events whatever. I will never write a single word if I have to police it for "would people have said this in 2019" lol, so please don't come at me for them using "crash out" haha

thanks as always to the wonderful @auroraphilealis for editing, you're still my best friend six years later <3

_______________________________

When five minutes passed, and then the shower clicked on, Phil figured Dan wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Reluctantly, he turned his attention to his computer to start tackling the overflow of emails, texts, and notifications that he’d been ignoring for the better part of three days. The first thing he did was tweet about the change in his liveshow schedule, doing his best to make it sound like it wasn’t for emergency damage control (even though it definitely was).

@AmazingPhil: Surprise! I’m moving my liveshow to 8pm this evening (nyc time, sorry europeans!) because I’ll be on a plane during my normal liveshow time.  

It was a pretty bare bones tweet; usually Phil would add something to make it a bit more enticing — some topics, a funny joke, something — but he figured enough people would be interested today anyway, and adding topics felt like a minefield. Either he’d have to directly mention Dan and their New York activities, or he’d have to make up some fake topics that would be a very obvious distraction, and neither of those felt like a great option to Phil. Instead, he added a plane emoji, then scrolled through the dock and selected a few random emojis — an apple, the full moon one with the weird face, and some bubbles — before sending the tweet. 

Closing twitter without reading any of the responses or opening any of his notifications, Phil turned his attention to his messages. He decided to wait to call his mum until after his liveshow, opting for a quick apology text and a promise to call later. In his defense, he had tried to call a couple of times since landing, but apparently his parents had both been working in the garden all day. His mum wasn’t thrilled with waiting another few hours to hear from him, but Phil needed to focus on his liveshow, and a distraction was too much to stomach.. 

Martyn was easier to handle — 

Martyn [3:22AM]: So baby brother of mine, twitter would have me believe that you’re dating a rockstar…

Phil [4:11PM]: I dare you to call Dan a rockstar to his face

Martyn [4:12PM]: Finally surfacing are you?

Martyn [4:12PM]: Does that mean I’ll be meeting Dan at some point?

Phil [4:13PM]: shut up, martyn

Martyn [4:13PM]: Is twitter right then?

Pausing, Phil turned his attention to the bathroom, listening for any indication that Dan might be coming out soon. The shower was still running, though, so with the tacit permission of If you  have to say something, I’d prefer it be the truth repeating on loop in his head, Phil responded.

Phil [4:15PM]: You know what they say, even broken clocks are right once a day

Martyn [4:15PM]: *twice a day

Martyn [4:16PM]: I would never have believed that MY baby brother is getting with a rockstar if I hadn’t had to turn off your twitter notifications so I didn’t have to see you flirting for two months first

Phil [4:17PM]: *gif of Homer Simpson disappearing into a hedge*

Even though Phil was not eager to do this liveshow tonight — to face what was likely his and Dan’s combined audiences alone — he had to admit that getting it out of the way would make his life easier when they got home. Judging by his email inbox, Phil would be busy with the BBC all week; he had four different meeting requests on top of his usual planning meeting, plus the actual recording. With a resigned sigh, Phil texted Emmalee to ask to switch his opening shifts for her closing ones this week. Phil hated working the closing shifts — evenings have been the only time he could work on videos for his channel lately, and while he could edit or draft a video if B&G was slow, it’s not like he could film there. 

Emmalee [4:19PM]: No problem. I’m training a newbie this week and opening shifts are probably better for that anyway

Phil [4:20PM]: Newbie???

Emmalee [4:21PM]: Yeah, I hired another barista. Eir name’s Alex

Phil [4:21PM]: What is e like???

Phil felt bad that his first reaction was an overwhelming sense of relief. His workload had radically increased since he first got to London, and between his work at the BBC and his hours at the coffee shop, Phil was struggling to stay on top of his channel. Sometime in the last month or two, youtube — the thing that was supposed to be his main job — had started feeling like a side hobby. 

Phil’s phone buzzed with Emmalee’s response, and then buzzed and buzzed and buzzed and buzzed.

Emmalee [4:25PM]: Hipster, 18, not going to uni. E’s never baristaed before but e just moved out of eir parents’ house and it didn’t sound like a great situation so I wanted to give em a chance.

Emmalee [4:25PM]: And dw, I asked in the interview how e felt about famous people and I kid you not e said “like Ned Sheerman?”

Emmalee [4:26PM]: So I don’t think you or Dan will have any trouble with em

Emmalee [4:26PM]: But if e’s weird about it, let me know and I’ll talk to em

Phil laughed, another wave of relief loosening some of the knots in his stomach, and was grateful that Emmalee had prioritized asking that. Really, if Phil didn’t like Emmalee so much, both as a coworker and a friend, he probably would have quit weeks ago. Maybe once this new person was trained, Phil would talk to her about cutting down his hours. 

Scrolling through the rest of his unread messages, Phil felt like everyone he’d ever been sort-of friends with over the years had texted him about getting papped with Dan. Phil marked most of the messages as read or deleted them without opening. He didn’t particularly need to hear what his uni classmates and distant youtube acquaintances and ex-coworkers thought about the picture.

He hovered over a text from an unknown number. The text preview — hey phillie bop! sorry to bug u but i got ur number from — confused him. No one in his life had ever called him Phillie Bop, and he couldn’t think of anyone that didn’t have his phone number that people in his life would trust enough to pass it on to. 

Only one way to find out, he supposed. 

0118 246 7321 [1:14PM]: hey phillie bop! so sorry to bug you but I got your number from louise. I know she said she heard from dan so I know he’s not like DEAD but he’s not responding to anyone else’s messages so I just wanted to make sure he’s okay. sometimes being ~famous~ is a lot for him

0118 246 7321 [1:18PM]: this is adaline btw

Phil’s eyes popped when he realized the message was from Dan’s sister. Thank god Phil didn’t delete the text without reading it. He quickly saved her as a contact and tried to figure out how to respond.

He didn’t particularly want to talk about Dan behind his back, especially without his permission. But at the same time, Phil understood where Adaline was coming from and knew that she genuinely cared about Dan — and got the sense that Adaline was one of the few people in Dan’s life that he was honest with. Phil typed out a response, doing his best to toe the line between being loyal to Dan and saying enough that Adaline could stop worrying.

Phil [4:32PM]: Hey Adaline! I just saw this, sorry. We had a quiet day hanging out at the hotel. Neither of us checked our phones until about an hour ago, so we only just found out about the picture. I think he’s handling it okay. We talked about it some and he’s in the shower now. I can tell him to check in when you when he’s out if you want?

Adaline: [4:34PM]: HI PHIL! 

Adaline: [4:34PM]: thanks for responding. no worries about having him text me, I just wanted to check 

Adaline: [4:35PM]: also, I lived with that man for fifteen years. he’s never been quiet a day in his life

Adaline: [4:35PM]: unless you found a different way to shut him up, in which case GROSS but also YAY 

The shower was still running after Phil responded to Adaline, so he switched his attention away from his personal messages and to the slew of emails in his BBC inbox. Skimming the first email, his attention caught on lines like leverage your current spike in popularity and additional celebrity interviews before he decided to just flag it — along with the other half dozen — to read over in more detail on the plane tomorrow. He accepted the meeting invites, since he didn’t think there was any hope of getting out of them, and added them to his calendar. 

By the time Phil was done managing the most urgent of his notifications, the shower was still on. Concerned, Phil closed his laptop and chucked it on the bed, making his way over to the bathroom door. He hesitated for a second, listening, but all he heard was the rainfall of the shower.

“Dan?” Phil asked, rapping his knuckles lightly on the door. “Are you trying to turn into a mermaid?”

He was relieved to hear a muffled laugh, even if it did sound kind of hoarse. “Yes, I’m looking for Prince Eric,” Dan joked, and that — that was good to hear. Phil didn’t actually think Dan was hurt in the bathroom, but Phil had been growing increasingly concerned that Dan was upset in the bathroom. He couldn’t be too upset if he was joking about Disney princes, though. 

“He is hot,” Phil agreed sagely.

“Do you need the toilet? Sorry, I’ll be out in a minute.” Phil chose to temporarily ignore the fact that Dan’s voice sounded kind of brittle.

“I’m good, just checking on you.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

The shower ran for another five minutes — Phil was glad he didn’t have to use the toilet — and the bathroom door stayed shut for another ten before Dan finally emerged. He was back in the same clothes he’d been wearing earlier, black joggers and a plain black tshirt, but now his hair was a sopping, curly mop on top of his head and his skin was dewy, likely with the arsenal of skincare products that Dan had unloaded onto the bathroom counter yesterday. 

As Dan got closer, Phil also noticed that his eyes were distinctly red, bloodshot in a way that he suspected wasn’t from the heat of the shower or an errant drop of product, especially in tandem with the scrunched set of Dan’s shoulders. 

“Come here, darling,” Phil said softly, opening his arms and beckoning Dan forward. Dan shuffled his way over to Phil, not quite making eye contact. He sat sideways on Phil’s lap, his long legs spilling over the side of the chair, his side pressing into the length of Phil’s chest, his head burrowing down into the crook of Phil’s neck. Phil wrapped his arms around Dan, one around his shoulder and one around his waist, and pulled him closer. “You okay?”

Dan nodded, his wet hair tickling Phil’s neck. “Yeah, sorry. I just meant to, like, go to the bathroom and the next thing I knew, I was taking a half hour long shower.”

“That’s okay.”

Dan was silent for a moment before, tentatively, saying, “I think I just needed a few minutes to process? I swear I’m not actually freaking out, but sometimes when I have a lot of emotions I just kind of need to… be alone and cry. Sorry. Again.”

Phil squeezed Dan tightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Dan, you don’t need to apologize for having emotions or taking time to deal with them,” Phil explained gently, his heart breaking a little for this soft boy who thought he needed to apologize for being human.

“Okay. Thanks.”

Phil’s gaze drifted to the clock, and he considered their options. Without dislodging Dan, Phil pulled up the maps app on his phone and did a search for nearby restaurants, taking note of a casual Indian place less than a block away. Phil was pretty sure that Indian was Dan’s favorite takeaway option, even if Dan did purport to like sampling all of the world’s dips equally.

“I have about two hours before I need to start setting up for my liveshow. There’s an Indian place around the corner. We could order takeaway or eat there, if you want.” Phil hoped giving Dan an easy choice would settle his head some.

Dan lifted his head, blinking blearily at the clock. He seemed to think over the option, quiet for a long moment before speaking. “Fuck it. Let’s eat there. I think I need to get out of this hotel room and see some natural light.”

Patting Dan’s hip, Phil urged him up. “Sounds good to me. Do you want to change first?”

Dan eyed their clothes before rolling his entire head back with a groan. “Ugh, we probably should. Shouldn’t make it too obvious we’ve been in the hotel all day in case we get papped.”

“Fair enough,” Phil agreed easily, tugging off his joggers and swapping them for a pair of more stylish canvas pants while Dan hopped into a tight pair of ripped jeans. Phil raked his gaze over Dan appreciatively, his eyes catching on the flash of skin exposed by one of the highest rips, one that salaciously wrapped around the inside of his thigh. There, framed by black denim and stark against Dan’s milky skin, was a mottled, purple bruise. Without thinking, Phil reached out, and thumbed over the mark.

“I don’t remember doing this,” Phil said, pressing a little harder to draw Dan’s attention to it. To his surprise, he was rewarded with a throaty groan. 

“Really? Because I sure fucking do,” Dan scoffed, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“Sorry. I should ask before I mark you up, and I keep just… doing it instead.”

Dan shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

“Darling,” Phil reprimanded pointedly, attempting to coax the truth out of Dan with a single word.

Dan closed his eyes, his head dropping back again. “God, honesty is the worst,” he grumbled before looking back, seemingly steeling himself. “You don’t have to ask. I like it when you leave marks on me. If I’m going somewhere where they’re not appropriate, I’ll tell you or I can use coverup or whatever. But it’s not like I exactly work a traditional job where people are going to care if I’ve got massive hickeys on my neck or whatever. If anything, it feeds into the whole”— Dan waved his hand in the direction of his guitar—“image. I think your reputation stands to suffer more than mine.”

Phil felt a slow, proud smile spread across his face. Dan tried so hard, was so eager to be good, and Phil appreciated it. “Thank you for telling me that. You’re so good for me.” Experimentally, Phil pressed on the mark once more, properly hard this time since it seemed to get a positive reaction last time.

And as Phil suspected— 

“Jesus fuck, Phil,” Dan groaned. “If you keep that up, we’re not going to have time for dinner.”

Phil let go of Dan’s thigh, bravely resisting the urge to drop to his knees and suck a matching mark onto the skin exposed by the slit of the other leg. He grabbed Dan’s jacket and threw it at him. “Come on, let’s go.”

**********

While sitting at a small table near the window of the crowded, dim restaurant, Dan and Phil talked in hushed voices and established the specifics of what they were and weren’t willing to share with Phil’s audience. Productive afternoon: fine. Slutty dancing in the club: their ears only. Dinner at the revolving restaurant: be vague on the details. Phil messily ate with one hand, keeping his other on Dan’s thigh, thumbing over that damn stretch of skin and that damn angry purple mark almost possessively. The food was great — a solid four stars from Dan — and between the two of them, they demolished three appetizers and three entrees. Sex, as it turned out, made them pretty hungry. 

They got back to the room with half an hour to spare before Phil had to log on for his liveshow. The closer the clock ticked to eight, the more Phil’s stomach churned. He probably could have done without eating the second helping of aloo gobi; it wasn’t helping matters. He didn’t usually get worked up over interacting with his audience, not even live, but then again, there weren’t usually quite so many landmines to consider. 

Dan had had an emotional-enough few days, though, and Phil didn’t want to add to Dan’s stress — or worse, make him feel guilty again for “making Phil’s life harder”. So Phil focused on logging into his laptop and getting his tweet ready, on setting up his computer and making sure nothing too damning was in the shot.

“What are you going to do while I’m live?” Phil asked as he shoved Dan’s guitar case a few feet to the right — he didn’t need anything in the frame that would prompt more questions about Dan, and he figured it was best to try to keep the hotel room situation ambiguous. If it were fully up to Phil, he’d just tell everyone that yes, they’re together, but he understood why Dan wanted his coming out to stand on its own for a bit. 

Dan pulled his switch out of his backpack, waving it in the air before plopping down on the unmade bed. Seeing as they hadn’t left the room until dinnertime, the housekeepers hadn’t been able to get in to do their job.The bedding was fucked, but Phil couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Zelda?” Phil asked, settling into the armchair.

“Obvs,” Dan agreed. He studied Phil for an uncomfortably long moment, his brows furrowing. “Hey,” he finally said. “Are you okay?”

Phil dropped his gaze to his screen; he’d never been a particularly good liar, and he suspected that, by now, Dan knew him well enough to see through him. He launched the younow website. “Of course.” Sent the tweet.

Before Dan could ask any follow up questions, Younow conveniently dinged that he was live, effectively ending the conversation. Within thirty seconds, there were already as many people watching as Phil had on a good night. By the one minute mark, the audience was bigger than he’d ever seen.

“Um, hi guys!” He waved at the camera, hoping his voice didn’t give away how nervous he was. 

Phil spent the first quarter of the show chatting about the safe topics he had listed out earlier — the gross muffin he got at the London airport, the Indian food they just ate, what it was like backstage on the Tonight Show. Each anecdote solidly confirmed that he was here in New York, that he was with Dan in New York, without Phil having to actually make a proper statement about it.

Good. That was good.

Or it was good, at least, until his audience started talking about Dan’s late night appearance — Phil hadn’t realized that it would spark so many questions that he not only didn’t want to answer, but didn’t even want to go anywhere near.

mostlyphangirling: did you see that dan said his perfect date was mario kart… didn’t you once say your ideal date was video games and pajamas?

amazingdaphne: so like is that cuddly picture from after filming fallon or what?

plantdaddy: pleaseeee talk about dan lecturing *the straights* about bi erasure bc it was AMAZING

Phil scanned for something tame, something that wasn’t about romance or sex. He was debating answering the one about bi-erasure, even though Phil wasn’t bi and he tried not to speak for identities that weren’t his — plus he doubted he could say anything nearly as articulate as what Dan had said.

In the nick of time, his eyes caught on an innocent-enough question and he leaped on it.

“Danielahowls loves Dan’s new song and asks if I got to hear it before Friday night. I did actually! I was around when he wrote some of the instrument bits, and he sent me a voice note of the chorus from when they were working on it in the studio, so that was pretty cool.” 

It was clearly the wrong question to pick. 

Suddenly, the chat was full of comments about Dan’s album, about his breakup with Isabella, about how Phil had to be the person Dan talked about liking. About how Dan had apparently — somewhat notoriously, even — talked about how he never shared his work-in-progress music with anyone other than his manager or studio team, which was news to Phil. 

And Phil just— froze. 

The chat kept scrolling, almost too fast for Phil to read thanks to the— oh god, 52,000 people watching. Intellectually, Phil knew that his youtube videos and radio show were watched by more people than that, but something about seeing a real-time number that large, about knowing that the only thing standing between him and breaking Dan’s trust was Phil’s objectively terrible brain-to-mouth filter…

And fuck— how much time had gone by since Phil said something? It felt like a long time. It had to be a long time, right? 

He forced his eyes to focus — his vision had gone blurry sometime during the last however-long — and found the tone of the chat had shifted. People weren’t hung up on asking about Dan’s performance or his album or his recent breakup, but now they were asking all kinds of questions about him that Phil didn’t know how to answer 

twinkyphil: r u okay? 

lionessphilipa: is the stream frozen orrrrrrr? 

phantastictrash: omg do u think dan is in the room again? 

Phil tried to make himself say something. Really, he did. He just didn’t know what to say, couldn’t come up with anything that would derail the chat enough to feel like he had control again. All he could think about was the fact that more and more time had passed, and he hadn’t said anything, and he still didn’t have anything to say. 

In the end, it wasn’t a comment, or his own willpower, or a stroke of genius that shook Phil out his stupor. It was the sudden, jarring collision of something ramming into, and then bouncing off of, the side of his armchair. His attention snapped into clarity, and he realized that the something was the desk chair. That Dan had wheeled it into the shot and was now settling into it with all the casualness in the world.

“Hello Phil’s audience,” Dan gave a little two-fingered wave at the camera. “We thought it might be fun to have a surprise guest on Phil’s liveshow, but I almost missed my cue.” He turned his attention to Phil, his eyes searching Phil’s face far more than was probably considered casual, and Phil knew the audience would probably notice. “Sorry I left you hanging there.” His attention turned back to the camera. “Anyway, I think you were going to talk about the new song I shared on Friday, right?”

Phil was floored at how smoothly Dan was covering up his mini-meltdown, at how effortlessly Dan was taking the blame and shifting the conversation away from all the topics that made Phil freeze up.

Dan continued to chatter on, seemingly content to let Phil recover in silence for a few minutes. “When is Tell Me I’m a Wreck going to be out to stream?” Dan read off the chat. “Great question, Abigail. Hopefully by the end of the week. I didn’t actually plan on debuting a song this early, and I’m not happy with the version we have recorded. But I’m in the studio constantly these days, so new music is coming along nicely. Though I’m sure my record label would appreciate it if I was less of a control-freak. There’d be new music a lot faster if that was the case. ”

Phil was amazed at Dan’s ability to talk endlessly, somehow without ever giving anything of real importance away, but also without ever seeming like he wasn’t trying to give anything real away. He was interesting and charming and captivating, and the audience was eating out of the palm of his hands. Yes, there were still the influx of comments asking intrusive questions about their love lives — if anything, there were more of those kinds of comments now that they were both on the screen — but Dan managed to glaze over them like they didn’t exist, easily extracting the most innocent questions from the chat and seamlessly switching the topic on his own when there weren’t any appropriate questions on screen.

Dan meandered through a whole array of topics, somehow managing to talk about their dinner at the revolving restaurant for almost fifteen minutes without ever giving anything personal about the night away. He told everyone all about the food, the champagne, the view… each time looping Phil in with specific, pointed questions that Phil was able to answer without fear of accidentally talking about how Dan kept playing footsie with him under the table or how Phil ate most of his dinner one-handed so he could keep a hand on Dan’s thigh or how horny Dan apparently became after a single glass of champagne. 

At one point, while telling a fairly-exaggerated version of how much they ate at dinner earlier tonight, Dan brought his leg up onto the corner of his chair, his foot resting near his bum and his knee tipping out to the side to make room for his gesticulating hands. Phil watched it happen, unable to focus his attention on anything other than Dan in his element, and was powerless to stop his gaze from tracing down Dan’s body, from catching on the exposed stretches of skin through the rips of his pants. 

And Phil was completely powerless to stop himself from staring at the hickey on Dan’s thigh. What the fuck was Dan thinking? Was Dan thinking? Had Dan somehow forgotten about the very obvious hickey on his thigh?

After a second — probably a second or two too long, if Phil was being honest — Phil ripped his eyes away from Dan and forced himself to look at the chat, steeling himself for whatever comments his blatant staring at Dan’s thigh might bring. 

Comment after comment made it clear that the chat had noticed the same bit of skin Phil had — 

river46: omg am i imagining things or is that a giant HICKEY on dan’s thigh

philstan9: ummmmmm p sure that’s not a bruise

howellyoudoing: Welp I guess SOMEONE has moved on

terminalphannie: GUYS DID YOU SEE PHILS FACE WHEN HE SAW THE HICKEY, THAT IS THE FACE OF A TURNED ON MAN [lightbulb emoji]

Phil was not turned on by the hickey, at least not right now. Affecting what was hopefully a casual look on his face, Phil turned to look at Dan. Dan, who looked just as at-ease as ever with his relaxed shoulders and wildly-moving hands. 

Dan, who quirked a single eyebrow and flashed Phil the fastest, barely-there smile — just a smug upturn of his lips that was there and gone so quickly that Phil almost thought he imagined it. 

“Alright guys, it’s getting late and Phil and I have an early flight tomorrow so we should get to bed.”

The chat did not love Dan’s timing, multiple people accusing him of ending the show because of what they’d already dubbed the hickey incident. But when Phil looked at the clock, he realized it was quarter past nine — a full fifteen minutes past his usual runtime.

They signed off, shouting out goodbyes to some of the viewers (the ones who weren’t still commenting about the hickey anyway) as Dan ended the livestream. 

When the laptop clicked shut, Dan immediately turned to face Phil fully, his legs criss-crossing sideways in the chair in a way that someone well over six feet should not be able to comfortably do. 

“Are you okay?” Dan asked, brow furrowed as he surveyed Phil with such scrutiny that Phil got the impression he’d been holding it back this whole time.

Phil hesitated. Dan had had a hard enough day — week, really — without Phil dumping all of his own drama all over him. He didn’t want to lie to Dan, but he didn’t want to cause him more stress, either. So he settled for something that was true, but hopefully wouldn’t turn Phil’s minor freakout into a whole thing. “I’m good now. Thanks for the save.”

“Sure,” Dan said easily, like spontaneously taking over Phil’s liveshow for him really was no big deal. His forehead was still wrinkled in concern though, his eyes still scanning over Phil like he was trying to solve a mystery. He opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. Finally, he said, “But… can I ask what happened? You seemed kind of off before the show and then…”

Phil shrugged, once again reaching for something honest but, hopefully, dismissive enough that they could get on with their night. “I just got nervous. Having you there helped.”

There was a long pause, like maybe Dan was waiting for Phil to say more, but Phil was really hoping to avoid that. Avoid upsetting him.

“Urghhhh.” Dan’s head fell back with his groan. From this angle, Phil could just barely see his lips scrunched up, his eyes squeezed tight. A few seconds went by — with a few more indecipherable sounds from Dan — before Dan abruptly looked back at Phil, his face a solid picture of steeled determination. “But you said the way to make fights go away is to talk about what you’re thinking. Or feeling. Or whatever”

Phil jerked back, unable to curb the surprised movement even though he hated the way it made fear flicker in Dan’s eyes. “Are we having a fight right now?”

Dan averted his gaze, staring at something vaguely to Phil’s right, and half-heartedly shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. It feels like we might be if you don’t tell me what the f—” Dan cut himself off, swallowed, and looked Phil in the eye. “—What’s bothering you.”

Phil bit back his automatic response, the one he would give most people in this situation — that of course he was fine, he was always fine, he was AmazingPhil after all. But this was Dan, and they’d just had a whole fight about Dan honestly communicating earlier in the week, and Phil knew Dan deserved better than that.

“Okay,” Phil nodded. “That’s fair.” He shifted around in the armchair so he could face Dan directly, which wasn’t nearly as easy as Dan made it look even though the armchair was significantly bigger than the desk chair. But after a moment of shuffling, he got one leg pulled up in front of him, mostly splayed against the back of the chair, the other kicking out of the seat towards Dan. 

Dan waited silently, and Phil wasn’t sure if it was an impatient silence or not, but as soon as Phil was settled, Dan rested his forearm on the uneven ledge formed by both of their armrests, his hand briefly dangling in the small space between Phil’s hips and the side of his chair before he turned his palm up and offered it to Phil. Phil accepted the gesture with a small smile, intertwining their fingers even though the angle meant he had to twist his wrist around a little. The discomfort was worth it, though, because as soon as their palms touched, Phil could see a bit of tension drain out of Dan’s shoulders. 

“I was fine at dinner, but by the time we got back here, I was nervous. Like, nervous enough that I wished I hadn’t eaten. And I’m not usually nervous before a liveshow, but there was so much that I wasn’t supposed to talk about that I knew everyone would want to talk about. And then the chat was— well, you saw the chat. And I just kind of froze.”

Dan rolled his lips between his teeth, the pink skin turning white like he was actively biting down, like maybe he was trying to hold back his first reaction. From someone other than Dan, that might worry Phil, but instead, Phil appreciated — was proud of, even — Dan for trying to temper the unhealthy coping mechanisms he’d come to rely on. 

“Okay. Thanks for sharing that with me,” he finally said, sounding like he was reading off a script but looking no less genuine for it. “I’m confused, though, because I told you that you could tell people if you wanted to.”

That was, Phil thought, oversimplifying what Dan had said to the point of losing meaning. Careful to modulate his voice, to make sure it didn’t come out like a rebuke, Phil gently corrected him. “Sort of. You told me that if I had to say something, I could say what I wanted and you preferred it to be the truth.” Phil remembered the exact words — had no choice but to remember the exact words — because they had been playing on a loop in Phil’s head since Dan had said them. 

“Yeah? Same thing?” It wasn’t quite a huff, but it was a near thing.

“It’s not though. If you have to… isn’t the same as I want you to… or I’m okay with you…” Phil explained. “And then you disappeared into the bathroom for long enough to use up the entire hotel’s hot water. Can you see how that didn’t inspire confidence?”

Dan tipped his head back and forth a few times, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the back of Phil’s hand. “Fine. Yes. I can.” Dan finally relented. 

Phil rearranged their hands, moving so they were still clasped together, but this time in a way that wouldn’t make the tips of Phil’s fingers go to sleep. “Do you actually want to tell people? Or were you just stressed when you agreed to that?” 

Another long pause from Dan; Phil was coming to expect them. “Can we come back to that after we finish talking about the liveshow?”

Phil wasn’t particularly keen to talk about the liveshow. He knew it wasn’t his finest moment and he’d like to move on from it if possible, but he wasn’t going to do anything that would discourage Dan from having a healthy conversation, so he — begrudgingly — nodded and said, “Sure.” 

“Why were you so nervous about the liveshow?” Dan asked immediately, like the question had been on the tip of his tongue. He tutted and added, “I mean, obviously I know why. You said why. But can you… help me understand what was going on in your head better?”

“I can try,” Phil offered. Phil paused, being careful with his words to make sure they were neutral and not assigning blame, because this really wasn’t Dan’s fault and Phil didn’t want him to think it was. “Before the liveshow, it was the anxiety of knowing that the chat would probably be really focused on one thing and how to handle that. But I told myself it would be fine because we’d planned out safe topics and stuff.”

Dan hummed and nodded but didn’t interrupt, so Phil kept going. 

“And then we got on the subject of your music, which I thought would be fine! But the chat was filled with messages about your breakup and people speculating, and all I could think about was the fact that I didn’t know what to say, and then I couldn’t say anything. It was like the words wouldn’t come out.”

“Okaayyy,” Dan said slowly, thoughtfully. “I heard you say— you were anxious before the livestream.” The words came out slightly stilted and clunky, again like Dan was reading unfamiliar lines in a play, but his face was earnest. “Why didn’t you talk to me before the liveshow started? We could have figured something out together.”

Phil offered Dan a soft smile. “You’ve already had a terrible week and had to put up with so much drama. I didn’t want to cause you any more stress.”

Dan visibly balked, his mouth dropping open with a dramatic aaah-aa noise. “Your feelings aren’t a source of stress for me. I want to know about them.” 

Chagrined, Phil conceded, “I get that. I just don’t want to be one of the things that make you unhappy, I guess.”

“Phil, look. I realize we haven’t known each other very long, but you make me happier than probably literally anyone else in my life. Like, every day, without even trying. You don’t have to—” Dan cut himself off again, licking his lips before he restarted. “Remember how last time we fought, I said that I needed to trust that you’d support me?”

Phil nodded. 

“Okay, well, that goes both ways. You need to trust that I’ll support you, too. Whatever that looks like for you. I would have helped you, I dunno, process your feelings”—another phrase that came out like a foreign language, too clunky to sound natural—“or we could have actually planned for me to join you, maybe from the beginning if that would have made it easier for you.”

“That… probably would have helped,” Phil conceded. But that did bring them to another thing he was concerned about, something he wasn’t quite sure how to talk about without bringing up bad memories for Dan. He tried for a subtle approachX. “I’m aware that you’re more famous than me.”

Dan blinked at him a few times, brows scrunched in confusion, before letting out a short, incredulous laugh. “Wow, the stupid book did not prepare me for this.”

Now it was Phil’s turn to stare at Dan in confusion. “Book? What book?”

Dan rolled his eyes, a self-deprecating smile on his lips. “The stupid conflict resolution book I’m reading.”

“When did you have time to read that? We’ve been together since…” Phil trailed off, not sure what the polite way to say since I made it clear that you needed to work on your conflict resolution skills was.

Dan must have gotten his point, though. “I listened to an audiobook on the plane. Well, part of an audiobook, anyway.”

“Wow, Howell, were you planning on getting in another fight with me that quickly?” Phil teased.

“Shut up,” Dan rolled his eyes again, but this time there was nothing but affection in the gesture. “It was just on my mind and it was bothering me that I… apparently handle conflict in really unhealthy ways, so I bought an audiobook. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Phil thought it was, in fact, a pretty big deal. He was pretty sure that Dan of Last Week wouldn’t have said the words I handle conflict in unhealthy ways, but Phil didn’t want to make him feel self-conscious by pointing that out. 

Instead, Phil leaned in and pressed a soft, tender kiss to Dan’s mouth that was more smile than kiss. “Thank you,” he mumbled against Dan’s lips.

“Fuck off,” Dan mumbled back. But Phil could feel him smiling too, could feel Dan’s free hand thread its way into Phil’s hair, could feel the gentle pressure against the back of his head that encouraged him to kiss Dan a little harder.

Phil indulged him for a minute, plying him with long, languid kisses without any heat but with plenty of feeling. When Dan licked along the edge of Phil’s lower lip, though, Phil pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against Dan’s.

“Hey now, no more of that before we’re done talking,” Phil chided with a grin. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dan whined, no actual annoyance in his voice. “You said I’m, uh, more famous than you?” His eyes flicked down, like maybe he was thinking about kissing Phil again, so Phil leaned back, sitting upright again so there was a bit of distance between them. “Is that, uh, something you’re… insecure about?” Dan continued, his shoulders tense. 

“No!” Phil exclaimed. “God no.” He tempered his volume. “I meant more that, ya know, I know you just got out of a relationship where someone was kind of… using you for clout.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Phil swayed his leg back and forth a few times — it was getting numb sandwiched between him in the chair, but he didn’t want to disrupt the conversation (and Dan’s, frankly pretty shocking, improvement in communication) by moving them to the bed. “I don’t want you to ever feel like I might be doing the same thing. I mean, it’s clear that interacting with you is good for my content. Like, full disclosure, I’ve got almost a million more followers since we started interacting publicly—”

“—As you should, because you make amazing content—”

“—But,” Phil emphasized over Dan’s interjection. “I don’t want you to think that’s why I’m in this relationship even a little bit.”

 Dan blinked slowly at Phil. “I definitely did not think that, but thanks for clarifying, I guess.”

“Good. But I know how brains can be, and I don’t want you to, I dunno, look at my follower count one day and notice how much it’s increased and start to wonder.”

“Phil,” Dan said flatly, “I didn’t even notice that Isabella was using me for fame and she literally paraded me around London like a fucking show pony. There was literally no risk of that.”

Dan’s rebuttal was, truth be told, kind of heartbreaking, but Phil didn’t think that diving into that can of worms would help right now. So instead, he opted for raising his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips. “Dan, that is not the ringing endorsement you think it is,” he teased.

Dan rolled his eyes. “Shut up Philip.” 

Smiling, Phil huffed and tried again, more serious this time. “You clearly think it’s ridiculous now, but can you just, like, promise to talk to me if you ever feel like I’m ever taking advantage of your fame? Even if you don’t think I’m doing it on purpose? I don’t want this to become a thing that drives a wedge between us.”

“Yes, Daddy, I promise,” Dan said sarcastically. “Are we done yet?”

Phil leveled Dan with a flat look. “One more topic,” he reminded him.

Dan dropped his head forward dramatically, eyes closed, and let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “Fineeeeee. You wanted to talk about— coming out or whatever?”

“Or whatever,” Phil agreed.

“Ugh,” Dan whined. “We’ve already talked about so many hard things though. Can’t we be done?”

“We’re talking about it tonight,” Phil said sternly. Then, reconsidering, added, “Unless you actually need more time to think about it, in which case, yes of course we can be done for the night.”

Groaning, Dan twisted in his chair and dramatically slid down until his butt was hanging off the edge and his neck was bent at an ungodly angle against the back. “No,” he grumbled. “I don’t actually need more time. I’m just tired and sick of talking about important things.”

Taking a second, Phil surveyed Dan, cataloguing the twitchiness in his hands and feet, the tension in his shoulders, the extra wildness to his curls. And then he ran through the last few minutes, realizing that Dan’s words were becoming less measured, his jokes a little more flippant. Impulsively, Phil decided to try something. It might be an awkward and uncomfortable disaster, or it might smooth out the jagged edges of Dan’s energy. Either way, Phil figured, he’d know for next time. 

Phil stood up, his right leg protesting about being bent awkwardly for so long, and extended a hand to Dan. “Come on. We can take a break while we pack and get ready for bed, and finish the conversation once we lay down.”

“Really?” Dan asked, his voice mystified, his eyes wide and hopeful. 

“Really really,” Phil agreed, shaking his hand at Dan. “Now come on.”

Dan put his hand in Phil’s and let Phil pull him up. He stepped into Phil’s space as soon as he was standing, his hands coming to rest on Phil’s hips, his lips pressing a clumsy kiss to Phil’s mouth. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Now go pack,” Phil instructed with a light slap to the side of Dan’s arse. The spark of interest in Dan’s eyes was unmistakable — but even if it wasn’t, Dan’s high-pitched squeak was pretty damning. Phil gave Dan a stern look. 

Dan’s lips quirked up in the ghost of a grin, his eyes quickly flitting down Phil’s body before he made eye contact. “Yes sir,” Dan said, a little smug, a little turned on. 

“God, you’re such a brat sometimes.”

“Pretty sure you’re into it,” Dan shot back. 

And— yeah. Phil couldn’t deny that. 

They went their separate ways for a bit, each collecting the remaining odds and ends they had strewn about the room. Dan, Phil noticed, checked three times that his black notebook was tucked securely into the easy-access pocket of his backpack. For only being in the room for technically a little over twenty four hours, they certainly had sprawled their shit around. Phil ended up with some of Dan’s clothes in his suitcase, and he was pretty sure his laptop charger was in Dan’s backpack, not his own, but he figured it didn’t matter — they could sort it out when they got home. 

When Phil had suggested pausing their conversation, he’d been a little worried that the interim might be awkward, that there would be lingering unresolved tension. But Dan took to the break like a fish to water, easily filling the silence with quips about their mess and peppering Phil with questions about the new video game Phil was playing. 

By the time they were brushing their teeth, Dan was relaxed, and the itchy, unsettled air that had been slowly consuming him during their conversation was now noticeably absent. 

They settled in the bed, Phil sitting against the headboard with Dan’s back pressed against his chest. Phil’s legs bracketed Dan’s, one of Dan’s ankles hooked over Phil’s shin. Even though the break had originally been for Dan’s benefit, Phil found that he was actually grateful for it, too — if for no other reason than it meant he’d get to have this part of the conversation with Dan in his arms. 

“No one has ever let me just, like, take a break in the middle of a conversation like that,” Dan said, and Phil figured that was as good of a reopening as any.

“I wasn’t sure how it’d go,” Phil confessed. “But it seems like it helped?”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed, confirming Phil’s suspicions. “My brain gets all fuzzy when I have a lot of emotions, so talking about them… especially when I’m trying to be all healthy or whatever, it’s a lot of effort. Might have to work our way up to marathon-length intense conversations.”

Shrugging, Phil said, “Eh, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind taking a break when your brain needs it. We can save the marathons for sex.” The way he saw it, accommodating Dan so he could think clearly seemed like a bare minimum expectation for someone in a relationship with Dan, but he was well aware that the bar was on the ground in that regard. 

Dan tipped his head back and puckered his lips up for a kiss. Phil obliged, dropping a quick peck to Dan’s lips. Apparently satisfied, Dan let his head return to its resting position on Phil’s chest.

Phil waited a moment, giving Dan some silence in case he wanted to speak first, but the seconds stretched on long enough that Phil started to say, “So about—” at the same time Dan said “I wanted to—”

They both cut themselves off, descending into giggles.

“Oh god, we’re the same person,” Dan said through laughter.

Smiling, Phil nuzzled his head into the crook of Dan’s neck, pressing a kiss to the edge of Dan’s t-shirt before hooking his head over Dan’s shoulder. “The same amazing person,” he said cheekily.

Without looking, Dan swatted his hand back, lighting whacking Phil’s shoulder. “You’re such a dweeb.”

“If I’m a dweeb, you’re a dweeb,” Phil pointed out.

“Listen—” Dan’s threatening tone was undermined by his inability to control the sound of his happiness.

“Stop.”

“Stop.”

“Sto-ooop,” Phil whined.

“Start.” And that — that was definitely a little bit Dan’s sex voice. 

Phil blinked, thrown off but still smiling. 

“Anyway. Hard cut,” Dan said, slicing his hands through the air. He made a funny little vurrppp noise, reminiscent of old technology. God, Phil adored this dork.

Phil let the mood settle for a moment and then offered, “You go first. I was just going to break the ice.”

“Sure,” Dan agreed. He inhaled a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth noisily. “Okay. I wanted to apologize for pushing for us to stay in the closet.”

Well that— that certainly wasn’t where Phil expected this conversation to start. 

“What? No. You don’t have to apologize for that.” He appreciated the sentiment but, really, he didn’t think it was necessary. 

“No, let me finish.” He didn’t sound frustrated exactly, but between the tense tone and the yield motion he made with his hands, Phil could tell Dan needed to get whatever this was off his chest.

So Phil snapped his mouth shut. He knew that Dan struggled with these kinds of conversations and wanted to give him the space to talk freely, even if he didn’t particularly need an apology from him. 

“I didn’t realize that keeping us a secret was going to cause you anxiety. And— okay, when I wasn’t out yet, fine, that was one thing. But once I was out, I just made the decision for both of us that we should wait and didn’t really even hear your thoughts on it.”

“I told you, Dan,” Phil interjected. “I’m okay with following your lead. You had a good reason for waiting and that’s fine.”

“Sure, but not wanting my boyfriend to crash out during a liveshow is a good reason too.”

“I didn’t crash out,” Phil whined, a bit indignant. 

Dan titled his head back, this time giving Phil a flat stare that was more humorous than threatening in its upside-down state.

“Okay, fine, I might have crashed out a little,” Phil conceded. “But that still doesn’t mean you have to be okay with telling everyone we’re dating before you’re ready.”

They lapsed into silence for a minute, Dan finding one of Phil’s hands with his, tapping his thumb and fingers along Phil’s. “I did mean it,” Dan said finally. “I would have been fine with it if you’d ended up launching our relationship in your liveshow.”

“Good to know. But also, I know you, Dan Howell. You’d rather curate an announcement for everyone to pour over, not just have me clumsily drop it in an emergency liveshow.” 

“That’s— annoyingly accurate, actually.” Dan laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that took the edge off the self-deprecation. “I’m such a pretentious fuck sometimes.”

“I told you, I know you, Dan Howell.”

“God, shut it, Lester.” The words were joking, but they were followed by one of Dan’s hands clumsily reaching over his shoulder and covering Phil’s mouth — well, his eyes, and then his nose, and then his mouth, but still. It was an obvious enough clue that Phil did, in fact, shut it.

“I think,” Dan started slowly after a long minute had passed, “that making sure you feel comfortable and happy talking to your audience without you having to overanalyze every single thing you say is more important than me controlling the narrative or whatever.”

Phil opened his mouth to point out that both of their needs were important, but Dan continued on.

“To me, I mean. Like, I think it’s more important to me that you’re happy than to have the perfect coming out arc.” Dan’s gaze was focused straight ahead and his fingers were tapping a barely noticeable, fast rhythm on his thigh.

“Thank you,” Phil said softly. He pressed a soft kiss to Dan’s tense shoulder and felt it relax a little under his lips. “You’re a good boyfriend.”

From the up-close angle of laying on Dan’s shoulder, Phil watched Dan gnaw on his lower lip. The unsettled look on his face made Phil unsurprised when he said, “But maybe—” Dan cut himself off, and Phil gave him a quiet hum of encouragement. Phil felt him take a deep breath before saying, “Do you mind if I talk to Lou about it first?”

“Manager Louise or Friend Louise?” Phil asked, even though he supposed it didn’t really make a difference; he knew sharing with Louise was important to Dan, and had already accepted that she would probably know a lot more about Phil than he actually told her.

“Friend? Mostly? Maybe a bit of manager, but honestly, I don’t really care what Manager Louise has to say. The professional stuff is just the annoying side of work. But mainly, I guess, I just want to make sure… Louise always lectured me about putting Isabella’s needs first or whatever. And this feels like— I’m pretty sure this is the good kind of centering your partner’s needs, but it might be good to just… check.”

Phil blinked, a little stunned. “You called me your partner,” he pointed out. He knew it wasn’t the important part of what Dan said, but his brain had latched onto it and was genuinely unable to think about anything else. 

“Yeah? So?” Dan sounded cavalier, maybe a touch confused. 

“You haven’t called me your partner before,” Phil explained, though he felt like that was obvious.

Dan twisted sideways in Phil’s arms, flashing him a befuddled look. “I definitely have.”

“No,” Phil corrected. “You’ve called me your boyfriend.”

“Okay? So?” Dan’s eyes flitted around, nearly going cross-eyed in his attempts to scan Phil’s face. “They’re practically the same thing.”

Phil shrugged. “I feel like partner is more serious though. I liked it.” 

The confusion melted into a softer look. Dan’s brows were still furrowed, but his eyes were fond and his parted mouth tipping up into a smile at the edges. His gaze flickered to Phil’s lips but he didn’t make any move to actually kiss him. 

“Alright, par’dner,” Dan responded, belatedly, in a terrible American accent that was made all the more terrible by the affection seeping into his voice. 

Phil rolled his eyes and kissed his forehead. “Of course you can talk to Louise,” Phil said, unable and unwilling to keep his humor at Dan’s antics out of his voice. He’d learned — was still learning — that Dan wasn’t confident being himself in a relationship, and he didn’t want to contribute to that, not even inadvertently. 

“Word,” Dan said, this time in a bro-y accent, but it was overenunciated and sarcastic in a way that made it sound like thanks. “So what have we learned?” 

Phil was surprised to hear his own words from their fight parroted back to him, but given how conscientious Dan has been with his phrasings, with his approach to their entire discussion, tonight, maybe Phil shouldn’t have been.

“I learned that you don’t actually suck at talking about hard things,” Phil offered with a laugh. It was a relief to see that Dan could actually communicate healthily, even if it looked a little different than other people Phil had been with in the past. 

“Wowwwwwwww,” Dan drawled, clutching his chest dramatically. 

“Hey! I said you don’t suck!”

“Honestly, that’s probably the biggest compliment I deserve.” Dan shrugged, and Phil kind of wished he could take his words back, because Dan had done much, much better than not sucking today, and he should know that. But Dan continued on, and Phil didn’t want to interrupt him. “I mean, I wanted to know what was going on with you, so that was probably most of why. But also, I dunno, I guess it’s not that hard with you. Like, you’re quiet and you shut up long enough for me to put my thoughts into the right words and you didn’t push me to keep talking when I needed a break.”

Quiet, Phil thought, was probably a kind euphemism for don’t scream by default. He gave Dan a soft smile and squeezed his hand before trying to lighten the mood a little. “Plus, I didn’t poke the bear before he had caffeine this time, I imagine that helped too.”

“Yes, that too,” Dan agreed with a laugh. “We also learned,” Dan said pointedly, “that this relationship goes both ways, and I’m here to support you too.”

Dan’s we learned suddenly felt a lot more like he meant Phil learned, but Phil appreciated that Dan didn’t call him out quite that directly. As it was, Dan was staring at him expectantly, like he was waiting for confirmation that Phil understood.

“I’ll talk to you next time,” Phil agreed. Before he could get too self-conscious, he moved the conversation along. “We learned about the mighty power of breaks, too.”

“Yes,” Dan agreed. “The break was good. Louise would probably support that over blowing you to get the conversation to stop.”

“Well, duh,” Phil agreed with a small chuckle and an eyeroll. More serious, he pressed a kiss to Dan’s cheek and gave him the honest compliment that he deserved. “Thank you for trying so hard tonight. You were so, so good.”

“Mmm,” Dan hummed, a small pleased noise, his eyes closing softly with the praise. “It wasn’t too bad.”

“Good.” Phil pressed another kiss to Dan’s skin, this time to the sensitive patch of skin beneath Dan’s earlobe. Then he pushed and prodded Dan until they were laying down, Phil on his back, Dan half on his side with his upper body sprawled across Phil’s chest. They were quiet for a long while, long enough for Phil to assume Dan had fallen asleep, when Dan whispered, “Thank you for somehow making a conversation about our public image fun.”

a/n: i’m fully aware that this is two days late and i’m SORRY. between the end of the semester and getting sick, i’ve failed to meet just about every deadline this week oops. but here’s 6k?

note: this chapter is a bit more M rated than previous chapters. slight tw for homophobia and bi-erasure, and sexual activities.

thank you @auroraphilealis for her wonderful help as always, she always points out the best ways to make my story better

As soon as Dan was across the threshold of his apartment, he sat Darcy down and grabbed his computer from her little fingers.

"Uncle Dan, can we have a snack?" Darcy asked, carelessly dropping the rest of the stuff she was holding. The crayons spilled out of the box and rolled everywhere.

"Just a moment, okay Darce? Uncle Dan has something to do first." Darcy pouted, crossing her arms stubbornly in front of herself, and looked like she was about to complain. "I'll tell you what, you can pick out our snack after you pick up all the crayons."

Darcy looked down at the crayons, which were still rolling away. "Fine. But I want chocolate."

Dan shook his head in exasperation. "I swear, you are just a tiny version of your mother. Meet me in the kitchen when you're done."

Dan practically ran from Darcy once she was occupied. He slid into the kitchen, opening the computer before he even got to the counter. When he was finally perched at the breakfast bar, he opened his Twitter homepage, and completely ignored all of his notifications.

Impatiently, Dan punched in the handle that Phil had given him into the Twitter search bar. A...M...A...Z...I... — holy fuck.

The very first suggestion that showed up — from only the letters "amazi" — was AmazingPhil. And, apparently, AmazingPhil was verified and had five million followers.

What in the fucking hell.

Dan skimmed his profile, trying to figure out why in the actual fuck Phil had five million followers. The tweets on Phil’s page weren’t particularly helpful. None of them gave any insight into why he had several million followers. There was a link in his bio though; shakily, Dan clicked on it, opening it in a new tab.

The page felt like it took ages to load. Dan’s internet was so fucking slow. Finally, he was staring at a YouTube page.

A Youtube page for AmazingPhil.

A Youtube page for AmazingPhil that had over four million subscribers.

Dan didn’t waste any time opening the first video on the page in another tab. Immediately, he was greeted by Phil's typical one-handed wave and a bright "Hey guys!" As interested as Dan was in the video, he switched back to Phil’s twitter, hoping to figure out what the heck was happening. The video continued to play in the background. Phil was talking about how weird of a kid he apparently was (no surprise there, Dan found him to be an endearingly weird adult, too).

Suddenly, Dan understood why Phil was so weird about giving Dan his username. Knowing that he didn’t have much time left to explore Phil’s apparently celebrity life, Dan pressed the follow button and, just to make him suffer a little more, Dan clicked to tweet him.

@danielhowell: @AmazingPhil hey there you snek

Just as Dan pressed send, Darcy came running into the kitchen. Proudly, she threw all of the crayons she had picked up onto the counter, completely defeating her efforts as they rolled across the breakfast bar and clanked to the floor.

"Uncle Dan, I cleannnnned. Can we please have chocolate now?"

"Yes, Darcy, just one second." Dan quickly turned on mobile notifications for Phil before shutting his computer. He was curious, sue him. He didn’t have time to do a full stalk now. But he would later.

He shoved his phone into his back pocket and swooped down to pick up Darcy. He swung her up onto the counter, setting her next to the sink. Darcy let out a high pitched giggle at the sudden swooping motion. Her hands were slightly tinted a rainbow of colors from the crayons. He turned the water on, letting it get warm.

"Wash your hands, then you can have chocolate."

Darcy leaned over the sink to wash her hands, inadvertently soaking her pants and the sleeves of her sweater. After all of the effort he'd made to keep her dry, too.

"I think that's enough of that." Dan laughed and pulled her wet hands away from the tap. Before she could make too much more of a mess, Dan turned off the water. He opened the cabinet by Darcy, bringing a hand to her waist to steady her as she clambered up to stand on the counter. She peered into the cabinet seriously, evaluating the food options Dan had. Her tiny hand reached out to grasp a box of chocolate biscuits. Proudly, she turned around to show Dan her selection.

"Can we have milk with the biscuits too?"

"That's the only way to have biscuits!" Dan pulled Darcy back into a seated position before he walked to the fridge. He pulled the milk out, only to find that there was hardly any left — right, he was supposed to buy new milk and got distracted. Oh well, too late now.

He poured the small amount of remaining milk into a glass for Darcy and tucked the biscuits under his arm. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist when he pulled her off the counter. He carried her into the lounge, setting her down on the couch and dropping the biscuits into her lap.

“Hold on just a second, Darce. I want to get you a new shirt since you got yourself all wet.”

Dan ducked back to his room, grabbing one of his spare t-shirts. When he got back to the living room, Darcy already had the box of biscuits opened and was munching happily on one. Dan rolled his eyes, not at all surprised she’d started on them before he got back. He grabbed the biscuit and the box from her hand, balancing them precariously on the arm of the couch.

“Can you stand up for me? I brought you something dry to put on.” Obediently, Darcy stood up on the couch and lifted her hands above her head, letting Dan pull off her damp sweater. He tugged his t-shirt on her and helped her pull off her sopping leggings. “Is that better?”

Darcy nodded her head enthusiastically, jumping back down into her seated position. She looked precious in his shirt. The hem of it fell passed her knees and the sleeves, which reached his mid-bicep, hung passed her elbows. Dan loved having Darcy in his life and was eternally grateful that Louise allowed him to be as big of a part of her life as he was. Someday, way down the line when his life had settled down some, Dan desperately wanted a kid (or two or three) of his own. But for now, he showered all of his attention on Darcy.

"What do you want me to put on the tv?"

"The Tigger Movie!"

Dan bit back a groan. He'd spent all of Darcy's life trying to get her into Winnie the Pooh and for some reason she's picked the worst Pooh movie to be her favorite. Honestly, he was so fucking sick of this shitty movie, but he put it on the tv anyway. He deserved a fucking award for Uncle of the Year for how many times he'd watched this bastardization of Winnie the Pooh.

Dan fiddled with his phone, his eyes flickering back and forth between his dark screen and Darcy. Inadvertently, she knocked the box of biscuits over and a few tumbled out onto the floor. With better reflexes than he realized he had, Dan reached over and caught the glass of milk just as Darcy was jumping down to pick up the fallen snacks. When she settled back on the couch, Dan repositioned the milk between her legs and poured a few of the biscuits onto the couch for easy access. Screw the crumbs. It was better than her dropping them all over the floor again and potentially knocking the milk over as well, especially as he was fully planning on tuning out of the movie as soon as he could.

Dan waited until Darcy's attention was fully consumed by Tigger's annoying bouncing around the screen before he pulled his phone back out. Surprisingly, there was a notification from Twitter — apparently Phil had already tweeted him back.

Dan swiped on the notification, opening the app.

@AmazingPhil: @danielhowell Hiss Hiss [snake emoji]

Dan looked at the time stamp on Phil's tweet. It was dated a mere two minutes after Dan had originally sent his. Interesting.

Dan switched over to the YouTube app, finally taking a moment to properly look at Phil's channel. According to his about page, he had created his channel on February of 2006. His description said that he "shares his strange life with people on the internet" — from everything Dan had learned about Phil so far, he definitely did have a strange life. He was looking forward to getting to hear more about it while watching the... holy shit, 250 videos Phil had.

Dan tapped back to the Twitter app in order to respond to Phil's tweet.

@danielhowell: @AmazingPhil looks like that's my evenings plans sorted then

Dan glanced over at Darcy. She was still munching on the biscuits. The milk had turned into almost sludge from all the biscuit crumbs that were dissolving in the glass. He was going to have to take that away from her soon. When he looked back at his phone, Phil had already tweeted him back.

@AmazingPhil: @danielhowell Oh no! Please don't go too far back [gif]

Attached to the tweet was a gif of a bunny hiding its face in his paws.

Jesus, this guy is too precious.

Just to be a dick, Dan scrolled all the way back to the beginning of Phil's channel and copied the link to his first video — "Phil's Video Blog - 27th March 2006".

@danielhowell: @AmazingPhil idk this seems like a pretty good starting point https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0dsyXzmHFM

Dan surreptitiously grabbed his headphones and tucked his left earbud — the one hidden from Darcy’s view — in his ear. He clicked play on the video and Phil’s voice… shit, it sounded so Northern. Completely adorable, though.

How old was Phil here? Dan was suddenly desperate to know. How cute was this?

When the video finished — it was only just over two minutes long — Dan clicked back to Twitter. He briefly considered replying to Phil’s tweet again, but decided it might be better to just slide into his DMs.

Daniel Howell: wow you were a baby when you started this how adorable

Phil’s response was instantaneous.

Phil Lester: Shut up, I know for a fact that you have plenty of embarrassing stuff on the internet from when you were younger, let me be.

Daniel Howell: touche lester. you have a fuckton of videos though, so much for my productivity i guess

Phil Lester: What happened to Darcy? Go pay attention to her.

Daniel Howell: she’s watching the fucking tigger movie and eating biscuits, she hasn’t even noticed i stopped paying attention to her

Phil Lester: What? That’s the worst Pooh movie!

Daniel Howell: THANK YOU her and louise don’t agree with me smh

Phil Lester: Wow, how shameful. Maybe you should try something different? Totoro?

Daniel Howell: trust me, i’ve tried. she only likes totoro when she is on the verge of falling asleep idk why

Phil Lester: That’s kind of cute though. I used to watch My Neighbor Totoro when I was going to sleep a lot (maybe I still do shhh)

Daniel Howell: that’s actually adorable (i do too)

Daniel Howell: tbh i wasn’t sure if you’d even see my tweet, much less respond so fast

Phil Lester: This is embarrassing. I may have you on notifications. Oops.

Daniel Howell: philip lester are you a secret fanboy

Phil Lester: Friends are allowed to have notifications on for their friends! It’s not that creepy.

Daniel Howell: it’s not THAT creepy, sure.

After Dan hit send, he panicked that maybe his last message hadn’t come out sarcastic, just harsh. Quickly, he followed it up with another message.

Daniel Howell: ;)

Phil’s next message came almost at the same time that Dan’s second message sent.

Phil Lester: Hey, I only put on notifications once I started seeing you almost everyday.

Dan sent Phil a smiley face and switched back to YouTube. He tapped on the next video — he figured he might as well watch in order if he was going to binge all of the videos anyway.

He made it through a few short videos before he got another DM from phil.

Phil Lester: Oh my gosh, our Twitter mentions are a mess.

Daniel Howell: how so?

Phil Lester: Everyone wants to know how we know each other lol

Daniel Howell: hmm i didn’t think of that

Dan bit his thumbnail in thought.

Daniel Howell: they’re your fans too, so you can obvi do whatever you want but i’d rather the whole world didn’t start coming to beans and grind

Phil Lester: No, me either. They know I’ve started doing some work with the BBC, I’m sure if I say I met you through work they’d all just assume it was that.

Daniel Howell: you do stuff with the bbc? who the heck are you phil??

Daniel Howell: that’s fine btw we can just be vague

Phil Lester: Lol yeah, I guess we have plenty to talk about huh? Come by the coffee shop soon?

Daniel Howell: obviously x

Dan glanced at the clock. It was four o’clock in the morning and apparently he’d been on YouTube nonstop since Louise had come to get Darcy sometime before dinner. Somehow, he was still only in 2014. The man had over 250 youtube videos, 120 of which were just from the past four years. According to Dan’s calculations, that meant he had roughly… another ten hours of AmazingPhil videos to watch?

Well shit. How was he supposed to be productive tomorrow, now?

After carefully (drowsily) considering his options, Dan made the best decision his curious, tired brain could make at this hour: he turned autoplay off, but kept clicking on video after video. He figured that if he fell asleep during a video, at least this way he wouldn’t accidentally sleep through two dozen videos.

Somewhere around five in the morning, Dan clicked on the first AmazingPhil video of 2015 and fell asleep to Phil’s quirky, eccentric storytelling. He had fully intended to get a full night’s sleep so he could wake up bright and early and head to the studio in hopes of finding inspiration, but… here he was now.

Despite being up until dawn watching AmazingPhil videos, Dan managed to wake up when his ten o’clock alarm went off. Out of habit, Dan pulled open Twitter and scrolled through his mentions — Phil was right, they were a mess. Almost every single tweet was screaming about the fact that he’d tweeted at Phil. A substantial number of the tweets were begging for the story of how they had met. AmazingPhil was tagged in almost all of the tweets, too. Who knew they had such overlapping audiences?

As he was scrolling, he realized that Phil had responded to a few of the messages. Eager not to miss anything, Dan switched to Phils Tweets and Replies page to see all of his responses.

@AmazingJenniffffer: @AmazingPhil tell us something we don’t know about @danielhowell

@AmazingPhil: @AmazingJenniffffer His standard coffee order is a triple espresso with one sugar and he’s a complete grump until he’s finished half of it.

Dan huffed in annoyance. He wasn’t a complete grump. He just… wasn’t very cheerful.

@danielhowell: @AmazingPhil @AmazingJenniffffer i resent that. i’m a delight thank you very much.

Phil’s response came quicker than Dan was anticipating.

@AmazingPhil: @danielhowell You haven’t had coffee yet this morning have you?

Dan’s eyes narrowed at the accusation. Stubbornly, he threw off the duvet so he could get up. He wasn’t about to let Phil have the last word here.

Jesus, it was bloody freezing in his flat.

Hugging his arms around himself, Dan looked around his floor, searching for something warm and relatively clean to put on. His eyes fell on Phil’s pugs not drugs jumper. Before he could overthink it, he pulled the jumper over his head. It was warm and comfortable, okay? It had nothing to do with the fact that it was Phil’s.

Dan could practically hear his internal devil laughing at the thin excuse, but the angel in his mind shoved the thought out of his head. That thought was far too much to process before coffee.

He stumbled into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee through half-lidded eyes. He spent a bit longer than normal picking out a mug while the coffee pot brewed, knowing he was about to tweet a picture of it. Eventually, he settled on a sloppily painted polka dot one his sister had made him — it would make her happy if she happened to see the tweet.

When the coffee was (finally) done, he filled the cup all the way to the brim and dumped in a small spoonful of sugar. While he waited for it to cool, he moved the coffee to the breakfast bar and carefully angled his camera so that the mug and his guitar on the kitchen table were both in shot.

@danielhowell: @AmazingPhil excuse you not only do i have coffee but i’m being productive [picture]

Dan tried to shove his phone into his pocket, only to remember that he was just wearing pants. Somewhat annoyingly, Phil’s jumper didn’t have a pocket either. Precariously, Dan tucked his phone under his arm, grabbed his phone and his guitar, and meandered into the music room. By the time he had set the guitar down next to the piano, his phone had chimed with another Twitter notification.

@AmazingPhil: @danielhowell You’re not fooling anyone, that coffee is completely full

There was also a DM from Phil.

Phil Lester: I thought maybe you’d come to b&g this morning.

Daniel Howell: sorry louise might actually have my head if i don’t do something productive today

Phil Lester: :( Rude, what are you supposed to be doing today?

Daniel Howell: working on writing the piano piece for a new song and louise threatened that if i didn’t have a draft of it by the end of the week then she was going to hire a composer because apparently i ‘take too long’

Phil Lester: Doesn’t she understand that art takes time?? (do I sound like a total fanboy if I ask for a preview?)

Daniel Howell: smh apparently not (yes but i watched 160 of your videos last night so i don’t think i can judge. i’ll send you something when i have something)

Without waiting for Phil to respond, Dan sat his phone face down on the top of the piano. He knew if he kept responding to Phil, he’d end up just talking to him all day and not getting any work done and, at that rate, he might as well have just gone down to Beans and Grind.

Dan spent the next hour and a half switching back and forth from playing his guitar, where he knew how to play the song, to the piano, where he was trying to arrange an accompanying piece. The top of the piano was littered with messy, half-crossed-out attempts at new sheet music.

After another hour of furiously trying to translate the song to the piano, Dan finally had a working draft of nearly half of the song written. Needing a break from flat out writing to just playing, Dan decided this was as good a time as any to film Phil a sneak peak of his new song. Awkwardly, Dan gripped his phone in his mouth and hit the record button, doing his best to record his hands on his piano. Unfortunately, the phone dropped almost instantly, landing face up so Dan had to awkwardly give Phil a terrible look at his face.

He watched the video back. There was just a quick clip of a piano, his hands, and a blur of his torso. It was kind of hilarious actually. He knew his followers would find it just as funny as he did.

@danielhowell: i was trying to film an exclusive sneak preview for @AmazingPhil but ended up with this gem instead

Without waiting to see his followers reactions, Dan returned his phone to his mouth and took another attempt at the video. This time, he managed to film the forty-five second portion of the song he’d composed.

He watched the video back. It was a bit shaky, both in filming and in… well, the quality of the song. Obviously, there weren’t lyrics or guitar or drums, but the piano part was complex enough that it sounded nice on its own. Still, he’d only just finished writing it, so his finger hit the wrong keys a few times and there were a couple of instances where his hands stilled for a split second, trying to remember what came next. Briefly, Dan considered refilming it, but he knew if he did it again, he’d end up filming fifteen drafts and wimp out of sending it.

Instead, he dropped it into his DM conversation with Phil, and sent it without a caption.

Weirdly, he was a bit nervous about Phil’s reaction to his music. So far, only Louise and his producer had heard the song — and that was just the guitar and vocal portion. Literally no one had heard any of the piano part yet. For all he knew, it was shit.

Instead of dealing with his nerves, however, he dropped his phone back on top of the piano and wandered back to the kitchen. He’d realized he’d only had coffee today and had completely forgotten about food.

In the kitchen, he grabbed a packet of crisps and a ribena and shuffled back to the music room. By the time he got back, Phil had already responded to his DM.

Phil Lester: What the heck? You’re so talented. Did you just write that now?

Daniel Howell: i mean technically i adapted it from the guitar, so it wasn’t like i was starting from the beginning or anything

Phil Lester: Don’t be mean to yourself! The guitar and piano are very different instruments.

Daniel Howell: and i’ve been playing them both since i was five, no excuses

He tapped back to his general notifications to see that his mentions were a wreck again. So far, there were several dozen tweets informing him that Phil had the exact same jumper. He had kind of forgotten that he was wearing Phil’s pugs not drugs jumper, to be honest. Well fuck.

Dan groaned to himself. He hoped no one thought too much about the outfit choice. Particularly Phil.

A notification popped up at the top of his screen.

@AmazingPhil: @danielhowell nice jumper

Or not, then. Dan rolled his eyes. Of course Phil had noticed. Even if he had overlooked the fact that Dan was wearing his jumper in the three second video, enough fans had pointed out that he had the same jumper as Phil that he was bound to see it.

He half expected Phil to DM him about it too, but he didn’t. Dan briefly considered DM’ing Phil himself, somehow trying to justify his clothing choice, but he figured there was no coming back from it now. Best to just move on, really.

Dan dropped his phone back onto the hood of the piano and re-concentrated his efforts onto composing the new version of his song.

Dan wasn’t sure how long he had lost himself in the music, but he was eventually jolted back to the present by the chime of the lift door.

The high pitched ding of the lift opening drew Dan out of his trance. The flat was silent for a moment, but the chime was quickly followed by a resounding smash and the smash was followed by a sharp clang. Dan dropped the pen from his mouth and dashed into the living room to see what the fuck was happening in his apartment.

Much to his surprise, he found Isabella standing in the middle of his kitchen. Around her, several of his pots and pans were spread across the kitchen floor, almost as if she was trying to make as much noise as possible.

“What the fuck, Izzy?” Dan asked, frozen in the kitchen entryway.

Isabella didn’t acknowledge Dan’s presence. She opened his next cabinet and grabbed a few more pots, unceremoniously chucking them to the floor.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Dan rushed over to Isabella, pulling her hands from the cabinet and holding them in front of him. “Stop it. What the fuck are you doing, Isabella?”

Isabella ripped her hands out of his grasp and reached for his next cabinet. She grabbed the nearest cookware and smashed it harshly to the floor. Just in time, Dan leaped back. The heavy metal bowl landed just centimeters from his bare foot.

“Jesus, Isabella. Will you stop? What the fuck is wrong?”

As Isabella opened up yet another cabinet, she realized that she was out of pots and pans she could crash to the floor. So instead, she turned and started grabbing what she could see in the cupboard.

His beautiful mug collection.

“Izzy. Izzy, Izzy, Izzy, Izzy. Stop, what are you doing?”

Isabella sent him a harsh, angry look. “You tell me. What the fuck do you think YOU’RE doing?”

Isabella grabbed another one of his gorgeous black mugs and smashed it to the floor.

“What the fuck? No, Izzy stop! I like my mugs.”

Isabella turned and stared him dead in the eye, grabbing the next mug and crashing it against the hard tile floor. Mug after mug, Isabella threw his prized possessions to the ground. Quickly, Dan found his kitchen floor becoming filled with little bits of Totoro, legos, and black ceramic.

“Fucking christ, leave me something to drink coffee in, will you?” Isabella snatched another mug off of his shelf and threw it to the floor with all her might. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Who is he?” Isabella grabbed another mug — ironically, his favorite mug, which was bright pink, and smashed it to the floor.

Fuck, he loved that mug. His grandma had gotten it for him years ago. It was her way of silently supporting his rebellion against gender roles when he had first started wearing nail polish and earrings sometimes. And now it was broken. Smashed into four big chunks.

Dan bent forward and scooped the pieces of the mug off the floor, cradling them into his chest.

“Who is who?” asked Dan, completely lost, as he set the broken shards of glass gently on his breakfast bar — far out of Isabella’s reach.

“You know who I’m talking about. That boy from twitter!” Isabella held another mug in her hands threateningly.

“...that boy from twitter?” Dan carefully hopped through the glass, taking care to avoid stepping on the large shards of his favorite mugs that littered his kitchen floor. Naturally, she didn’t have to worry about the glass, she didn’t have to worry about the mugs he so desperately loved cutting up her feet. She was wearing nine hundred pound shoes that were surely worth more emotionally than the mugs his family and friends had slowly given him over the years.

“What are you on about?”

“You know, that one you’ve been tweeting all last night! And today! So fucking flirty.” Carelessly, she dropped the mug she was holding by her feet.

“You mean Phil?” Dan glanced down at the shards of glass at his feet, honing in on the hand painted bits of broken glass.

“Phil? That’s Phil? Like coffee shop Phil?”

“Yes?” Dan stuttered. “Why? What the hell has gotten into you?”

“That guy you’ve been tweeting with is the coffee shop guy, the one you haven’t been able to shut up about for ages!? Nice jumper, by the way. I’ve never seen it before. But it sure sounds like all of Phil’s precious little fans have. It’s his, isn’t it?”

“What is your point, Isabella?” Dan asked through gritted teeth. He’d been trying, really trying, to stay calm. His mother had always taught him that getting loud and angry back didn’t solve problems and that was what he had been trying to do so far — solve whatever this problem was. But bringing Phil into it… that angered Dan more than almost anything else so far. More than his Totoro mug, more than the Lego mug, more than the near miss of the heavy metal bowl.

“You’ve been, like, spending so much damn time at that coffee shop recently. I was concerned it was because of a girl or something, but, of course, I forgot you were gay.” Isabella’s words came out sharp, dripping with poison.

Dan flinched back. In the back of his mind, he could hear the callous, ruthless taunts of his school bullies calling him gay, homo, fag… He tried to shut out the memories, but her tone, her tone mirrored those kids’ tones so closely that it was hard. He’d been comfortable, proud even, of his sexuality for years, but one word, one tone, one attempt from someone he loved to use a word he was proud of as an insult and… suddenly he was right back in his terrified, raging adolescent mindset.

When he’d told Isabella that he was open — enthusiastic even — to dating more than one gender, she had been cold, rude even. But that didn’t even compare to her throwing and shattering every kitchen item he owned onto the floor because of — well, this.

“How many fucking times do we have to have this conversation?” Dan closed in on Isabella, backing her into the corner of the counter. “I told you, I’m not gay. I like girls just as much as I like guys, or anyone else for that matter.”

Isabella scoffed at him. “Right, tell that to your new friend, Phil. With the way you’ve been acting recently, I just assumed that you’d let the full freak-gay flag fly.”

“One,” Dan angrily grasped the counter, right against Isabella’s hip, “I never said I was into Phil. Two,” Dan’s other hand landed on the counter on Isabella’s other side, effectively trapping her against the counter. “Even if I was, I wouldn’t be gay. Just in case you forgot, Izzy, there’s this thing called bisexuality.”

Isabella tilted her head sideways, looking back at Dan through heavily-lidded eyes. “I’m not sure I believe you, Danny. You’re going to have to prove to me that you still like vagina.”

Dan felt something snap within him. Isabella’s constant jabs at him, her constant disbelief that he could find multiple genders equally attractive, her inability to realize that despite his attraction to anyone else, he was actively choosing to be in this relationship… it all drove Dan to a point of anger that he hadn’t ever felt before in his life.

Suddenly, he wasn’t just backing Isabella against the counter, he was lifting her up by her upper thighs and pressing her against the marble countertop. His mouth instinctively found her neck, harshly biting more than kissing. In response, her leg wound its way around his waist, forcing him in close.

He shoved her harder against the counter, lifting her up further so she could sit, forcefully spreading her legs apart so he could stand between them.

Dan didn’t hesitate, working his way aggressively down Isabella’s neck, sucking and biting until he reached the crest of her bulging breast. His tongue flicked over it, dipping down into her bra and across her nipple. He’d never felt so angry before. All he wanted was to make her finally shut up, to make her finally stop making jokes about his love of dick.

Never once had he asked for the opportunity to seek cock, to take cock, to suck cock, yet here she was, angry about the fact that he could even consider wanting cock.

“If I were only into dicks,” Dan muttered, squeezing her other breast in his hand roughly, “would I love your boobs as much as I do?”

Dan roughly pulled her shirt and bra down with his teeth, giving himself more access to her chest. His teeth scraped sharply against her soft skin, leaving bright red marks behind. In response, Isabella wrapped her legs tightly around him, pulling him in tightly.

“Fuck, Dan…” Isabella hissed. “Like, I said… prove to me you aren’t into him.”

Dan growled, reaching his hand under Isabella’s thighs, sliding up until his hands were tightly squeezing her ass, and forcefully pulled her forward. Her legs instinctually locked around his waist and he effortlessly started walking her back towards his bedroom. Without warning, she started biting at his earlobe. Hard.

“Jesus, fuck. Isabella…” Dan trailed off, gasping as arousal shot through him. Isabella’s teeth moved lower, sinking into his shoulder so sharply that they nearly drew blood. Without warning, Dan shoved her against the hallway wall.

“Fucking hell Isabella…” He bit and sucked his way down her neck, latching on to her exposed breast again, groaning at the feel of her under him. He hadn’t expected this to be quite as much of a turn on as it was. His arms shook as he held her, biting at her skin, thinking about how much he just wanted to fuck her, show her how much he wanted her. He was just worried he was being too rough.

“Is this okay?” he gasped out.

Isabella responded first with a high pitched whimper. Dan hesitated for a moment, pulling back, searching her face for consent. “Yes —” she finally whimpered, bringing Dan’s attention back to her body. “Don’t stop.”

Dan growled, pushing her harder against the wall, holding her up with just his lower body. Good, he thought, because he didn’t want to stop. His hands tugged at her lacy top, tearing through the delicate fabric.

“Danny!” Isabella yelled, “That was expensive!”

“Does it look like I give a fuck?” Dan didn’t even bother meeting Isabella’s gaze.

He reached behind her, unsnapping her bra. Her tight skirt had ridden up from their position, granting Dan open access to her body. His left hand wound its way out from under her knee to her inner thigh, while his other hand landed on her lower back, roughly pulling her further against him, until his hard cock was pressing against her. His nails scratched sharply against her back, surely leaving deep red marks above her ass.

In turn, Isabella’s hands wound their way down Dan’s side and underneath Phil’s jumper. She shoved Dan backward, nearly causing him to lose his grip on her, and yanked the jumper over his head. The moment his shirt was off, Isabella’s hands returned to his shoulder, her nails raking down his back.

“I don’t care if you’re gay for coffee house boy, Danny, remember that you are mine.” Isabella punctuated her sentence with a sharp bite to Dan’s neck.

Fuck. She knew. She knew his neck was an off-limits zone. And yet, she still chose to bite at it.

Fuck it. Dan retaliated. Without mercy, his mouth attacked her collarbone, sucking a deep, dark purple mark against her pale, white skin. When he pulled back, he could see the marks of his teeth glowing red, encompassing a dark purple patch. Not good enough. Dan moved to the other side, latching his lips on the opposite side of Isabella’s neck and biting down.

Isabella matched him bite for bite, scratch for scratch. For every mark he left on Isabella, she left one on him. His hand had just worked its way fully up her skirt, grasping her hip so hard that it was bound to bruise, when Isabella bit his ear harshly, mumbling, “Fuck me, Danny, prove to me that you like me most.”

Defiantly, Dan ripped her away from the wall and carried her toward the bedroom. The whole way, her hands kept scraping down his back, her mouth kept sucking at his neck. In turn, Dan pulled at her hair and squeezed at her ass so tightly that he was sure it would bruise.

When they finally reached the bedroom, Dan threw Isabella mercilessly onto the bed, arms shaking with the effort of holding her up for so goddamn long. His hands immediately went to pull down her skirt as her hands reached for the drawstring of his pajama pants. Without ceremony, his pants and her skirt fell to the floor. The moment his cock jumped up, Dan was ready, and he pushed into her, roughly showing her just how much he liked her.

a/n: hello all! apologies for the VERY long wait. i had this chapter in basically this exact same condition a MONTH ago and didn't post because i intended to be nice and add to it. however, i kept NOT, because tbh i'd always planned to end the chapter here, and didn't want to end it here just because of the long wait, and then the wait became longer... and then it became a whole cycle.

but i had an impulsive moment tonight, and basically demanded the ever-lovely elizajane's attention and cleaned it up for posting. i knew i'd just sit on it for ages if i didnt post, and the odds of adding it to it was probably low. now that it's out there, the odds of me moving forward and writing shoot up dramatically haha.

thank you each and every one of you for your never-ending and ever-present support. i love how patient and enthusiastic you are, even when i make you wait literal months for a chapter. my work life has been very hectic lately (i'm applying for a big thing this fall and it's a lot of time and effort and writing), but i promise i'm dedicating actual time in the next week to actually sitting down and sketching out how i want to get from here to the intended ending. i want everyone to experience the ending i have in my head for this fic, and i wanna figure out how to make that happen for all of us. 

***************

Taking a break from the world and enjoying each other’s company was a wonderful decision. And sure, they had spent half the day working, but they’d been working together. In bed. Alone.

This was a development that Phil was very okay with. For one, working in bed was a lot more comfortable than the chairs at B&G. And while skype calls were better than the coffee shop, where Phil was at least able to sit on his sofa instead of a stiff chair, they didn’t hold a candle to this setup. Because in this new arrangement, Phil had been able to reach out and touch Dan anytime he’d wanted. And Dan could touch him back — in fact, Dan had spent the majority of the day touching him back.

Plus, once they’d finished their work, they’d been able to set computers and journals and pens aside and focus on each other. Three hours, a nap, and another round of making out later, Phil was feeling… content. He couldn’t quite place the feeling. It was domestic and warm, nice in a way he hadn’t ever really experienced before. In a way he very much wanted to experience for as long as possible.

It had been a solid twenty minutes, maybe thirty — Phil couldn’t see the clock from his current position — since Dan had settled in Phil’s arms again, arm looped around Phil’s bare waist, head tucked into Phil’s shoulder. For a while, Dan had been tracing faint, tickling designs on Phil’s side, but somewhere along the way, the movements had stopped. Phil was beginning to wonder if Dan had fallen asleep again. It wouldn’t have been that surprising; in fact, it might have been the only explanation for Dan being this quiet and this still for this long. Quiet and still weren’t exactly Dan’s normal behavior.

Curious, Phil grazed his fingers up and down Dan’s arm, keeping his touch light enough that it wouldn’t wake Dan if he was asleep, but just enough that Dan would still be able to feel it if he was in fact awake. Phil was surprised when Dan let out a quiet hum. Stilling his fingers, Phil turned his head to peek at Dan’s face. His eyes were closed, but his lips were quirked up into a small smile, giving away the fact that he was undoubtedly awake. Awake — and maybe, just maybe, happy. Phil’s mouth twitched up into a small smile of his own — Dan’s happiness made him happy.

“That felt nice,” Dan murmured, just a smidge of petulance in his voice. Phil took the hint and resumed gently stroking Dan’s arm. “Good boy,” Dan mumbled, so quiet that Phil could barely hear him.

Chuckling, Phil bit back a quip about how Dan was the good boy here, because now didn’t seem like the right time for that. Now was too soft of a moment to have a serious conversation about it, and it certainly wasn’t the right moment to… derail with sex. It was too nice. So instead, Phil relaxed quietly and let his fingers draw aimless paths from Dan’s shoulder to his wrist, enjoying the moment.

“This is nice,” Dan murmured again, this time sounding nothing but pleased as he wiggled closer to Phil, his head burrowing ever so slightly deeper into Phil’s shoulder and his grip tightening just a hair.

“It is,” Phil agreed lowly, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the moment.

A beat of silence passed between them, and Phil wondered if Dan was just as reluctant to break the reverie as he was.

But the silence couldn’t last forever — Phil didn’t expect that it could. A few minutes later, Dan was tilting his head up to look at Phil, his eyes already filled with dread. “I’m beginning to feel a bit badly about ignoring the rest of the world, though.” Dan didn’t sound like he felt guilty, his voice the same serene, easy tone as before.

“Get up on the count of three?” Phil offered, stilling his hand on Dan’s bicep.

“I don’t feel that bad,” Dan whined with an exaggerated eyeroll.

Phil giggled at the adorable manchild in his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of Dan’s head, his fingers once again resuming their path. “You can count at whatever pace you want, silly old bear.”

Dan’s gaze softened, and his lips shifted from an immature pout to a playful smirk. “Fine, but we’re starting at negative five,” he compromised smugly, sounding sure that he’d gotten the best of Phil.

“Deal,” Phil agreed readily. His desire to move Dan was half-hearted at best, really only driven by Dan’s ambivalent efforts to get up.

Dan, apparently satisfied with Phil’s response, settled his head back into the crevice of Phil’s neck, and looped his arm snugly around Phil’s stomach. Burrowing his head closer to Phil’s chest, Dan murmured a quiet and unconvincing negative four.

It took Dan fifteen minutes to count to zero, and another ten to get to three. True to their agreement, though, Dan pushed himself up and out of Phil’s arms as he called out the last number. Seeming to capitalize on his momentum, Dan swung his legs to the floor and climbed out of the bed, swiping both their phones off the nightstand.

“Is it time?” Phil asked, unable to curb his reluctance, even as he caught his phone when Dan threw it at him.

“It’s time,” Dan confirmed, still standing by the bed. He didn’t sound any more pleased about it than Phil felt, but he was already in the process of unlocking his own phone, so Phil figured there was no escaping reality at this point.

Pressing his thumb to the home button, Phil unlocked his phone, only getting as far as his home screen — where there were approximately fifty thousand notifications — before he was sidetracked by a sharp what the fuck from Dan.

For a second, Phil was torn on what to do first. It seemed like every app had at least a dozen notifications — and some had literally hundreds. His finger froze, debating if he should open his email or twitter or instagram or tumblr or messages or whatsapp or —

Jesus, even Phil’s calendar app had notifications. That never happened, not outside of previously-discussed meeting invitations at least.

“What in the actual fuck?” Dan muttered, drawing Phil’s attention up; Dan, and his confused distress, seemed like a better place to start than the notifications anyway. Everyone else in the world could wait — and not just because they weren’t right in front of Phil.

“What is it?” he asked, trying his best to keep the apprehensive fear out of his voice (and doing a bang up job of it, he was certain).

“I— someone— last night—” Dan stopped and started several times, his voice growing higher and higher pitched with every attempt, his eyes still focused on his screen. Each start gave no more insight to his increasing distress than the last.

“Dan,” Phil urged, his voice just this side of commanding. He was nervous and increasingly worried, and his anxiety was already getting the best of him.

“There’s— picture,” Dan finally spat out, voice strangled, panicked.

Realization — and his own fair share of fear — washed over Phil, a deep sense of dread churning in his stomach as his mind flashed through image after erotic image of what could have been photographed from last night: Dan blushing at the table while they talked about rimming, Dan straddling his lap in the club and grinding down, Phil pressing Dan against the bar and feeding him limes in the most suggestive way possible, Dan grinding his arse into his crotch and dancing on a crowded and anonymous dance floor…

Phil’s imagination was saved the effort of conjuring up more wonderful but wildly inappropriate memories by Dan thrusting his phone into Phil’s face, far too close for Phil to actually focus on the image on the screen. Calmly, or at least in some version of what Phil hoped seemed calm but probably wasn’t, Phil plucked the phone out of Dan’s hand and held it at a reasonable distance, preparing himself for the worst.

His eyes adjusted, and he took in the picture.

The first thing Phil noticed was that the photo was dark and grainy, but there was no mistaking it was them, not with Dan’s brown curls and dark clothes, and Phil’s dark quiff and brighter outfit. Still, it was far better than any of Phil’s fears — it wasn’t from the restaurant or the club or the dance floor, they weren’t grinding or kissing or teasingly touching each other.

The picture didn’t scream platonic friends, but at the same time, there wasn’t anything explicitly confirmatory about it. There were no obvious hickeys, no lips pressed against lips or throats or collarbones, no hands straying to explicitly private parts.

There was still a shred of plausible deniability.

Oddly enough, the picture seemed to capture the same thing Dan’s new lyrics had — the softer, more romantic and gentle part of the night, the part where they’d sunk into each other. The part where they were full of lust, but undoubtedly full of something else, too.

No, the photo wasn’t some dirty, grainy shot of them at their horniest. It was taken from the back, which explained why they hadn’t noticed the photographer — although the absurd amount of alcohol probably explained that equally as well. They were stopped at a crosswalk, standing side-by-side on the corner, their arms looped around each other’s waists.

Or, well, Dan’s arm was looped around Phil’s waist. Phil’s arm was a bit — a lot — lower. His hand wasn’t so much gripping Dan’s hip as it was the side of his arse.

The placement of Phil’s wandering hand wasn’t great, but compared to their faces…

Dan’s head was tipped sideways onto Phil’s shoulder, chin angled up so his mouth was very obviously accessible for Phil’s. Phil’s own face was turned to look at Dan, bent down at an unnatural angle, his expression a blurry picture of fondness.

Phil couldn’t help but wonder why the photographer — whoever they were — shared this moment, and not the one immediately after. The moment where Phil was nearly certain he’d closed the small distance between them and kissed Dan’s begging lips.

It looked coupley, of course it did, it couldn’t not. But there was room to spin it.

Probably.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Phil schooled his face into a neutral expression and lowered the phone — not that it mattered that much; it wasn’t like Dan’s phone was big enough to hide Phil’s entire face, and Phil was certain that his initial expression hadn’t been the most… composed of all reactions he could have had.

“Okay,” Phil said shortly. His one-word response was clipped, monotone. Drawing a deep breath, he tried his best to sound a bit more alive, a bit more positive, when he continued. “Could’ve been worse, all things considered.”

There. That was a true statement.

Dan raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, shrugging his shoulder in a noncommittal I guess fashion. He snatched his phone out of Phil’s hand and studied the picture for a second longer before looking back up to Phil.

“You can’t tell if either of us are hard, I guess that’s something,” Dan finally conceded. He pursed his lips, his mouth scrunching to one side as he stared harder at his screen.

“True,” Phil agreed, genuinely thankful for the small victory — he knew he’d been at least semi-hard for a large part of the previous night, and he was pretty sure the same went for Dan, too. Phil’s branding could handle some drunk walking and cuddling with a friend (or someone more, his audience didn’t need to know the specifics). He wasn’t sure how well his branding would mesh with stiff cocks and hot lips and groping hands, though.

Twirling his own phone between his thumb and forefinger, Phil trained his gaze on Dan’s face, carefully watching for any minute hint of emotion. Dan’s expression was steadfastly neutral, albeit pinched, though, making it nearly impossible for Phil to read what Dan was thinking.

“What next?” Phil finally relented when the silence went on for too long. The desperation to do something — whether it was responding to every single tweet they’d been tagged in or deleting every contact who’d messaged them about the picture — was gnawing at Phil’s nerves and his fingers were itching to do anything at this point.

Antarctica could be nice, Phil thought. At least penguins were cute. And probably easier to please than excited fans.

Dan sighed, dropping his attention back down to his phone. “I reckon we should start by seeing what people are saying,” Dan mumbled, already tapping about on his phone as he collapsed back onto the bed, his back leaning against the headboard, his side pressing up alongside Phil’s. “No point in talking ‘bout what we want to do until we know what everyone’s thinking.”

“Great,” Phil agreed, an uncharacteristic note of sarcasm creeping into his response — maybe it was from being around Dan so much, or maybe it was the only way he could cope with the severity of the current situation. “Reading through all my twitter mentions is exactly what I want to do right now,” he huffed, punctuating his complaint with an eyeroll.

Dan and his sass were definitely beginning to rub off on him.

Whining aside, both Dan and Phil opened their twitters. Phil swiped directly over to his mentions, impatience getting the best of him. Almost all of them mentioned Dan too, and a not-insignificant portion were in response to the original tweeted picture of them. Phil had learned from experience: the more people responded to the source of gossip, the more people the gossip reached.

As Phil scrolled through his tweets, he gathered that most people's reactions were positive — ranging from excited keyboard smashes to multi-tweet threads of encouragement, support, and firm warnings to respect his and Dan’s privacy. Somewhere in between the extremes, though, were a bunch of overly intrusive, speculative tweets that had Phil groaning. There were tweets that tried to guess at the context of the photo, tweet threads that in-depth speculated on the nature of his and Dan’s relationship, back-and-forth tweets arguing about the timeline of their romance.

It was too much to keep reading, and besides, Phil had well gotten the gist of it all by now. He glanced over at Dan, mainly to see his reaction, only to find that Dan was scrolling through a hashtag that Phil had only noticed in passing, not fully registering its popularity.

#Phanconfirmed

“There’s a hashtag?” Phil asked wearily, despite the fact that between his feed and Dan’s screen, the answer was obvious.

“It’s trending,” Dan confirmed, his voice still flat as he scrolled through page after page of tweets. “Worldwide,” he added.

“Fuck,” Phil mumbled, incapable of much else at this moment. Dan might have been hung up reading tweets in the hashtag, but Phil was pretty certain he didn’t have it in him at this moment in time. Closing out of the app, Phil switched over to his calendar, then his voicemail, then his messages.

Just from the badges on the apps, Phil knew it’d be bad. All things considered, though, he wasn’t nearly as prepared as he should have been. “I’ve got eight missed calls, five voicemails, and three virtual meeting invites from my manager,” Phil said, half to himself and half to Dan. “And a rather demanding text.”

And those weren’t even counting the ones from PJ and Martyn and his mum. Now definitely didn’t seem like the moment to deal with those.

“Shit,” Dan cursed under his breath. “I should probably check mine, too,” he conceded, this time a little louder.

Phil tore his eyes from his screen — he didn’t particularly want to keep staring at Marianne’s assertive call me asap message anyway — and watched as Dan tapped through his own phone and message apps.

“Sixteen calls, nine voicemails, and ten texts from Louise,” Dan read off unnecessarily, still sounding like he was in a state of shock. Tapping back to his full message list, Dan continued, “Adaline texted five times, too. I’m sure those aren’t hunting for gossip at all,” Dan huffed, dropping his phone and burying his face in his hands.

Phil made a sympathetic noise. His brother wasn’t much of a gossiper, but his whole family knew Martyn was more likely to get dirt out of Phil than anyone else, so he was willing to bet his brother’s texts had the same intentions as Dan’s sister’s.

Dan rubbed his face, clearly agitated. “Fuck, I don’t even want to think about what my parents are saying — I kind of put a moratorium on discussing my love life with them.”

As much as that statement piqued Phil’s interest, he couldn’t bring himself to focus on it right now; his mind was too focused on his own parents — and the fact that he'd barely gotten around to telling his mum anything. He’d shot her a text while they were waiting to board their plane to New York, just a vague message about how she might be seeing his name pop up in celebrity gossip columns and yes he was dating someone and no he didn’t have time to call her and regale her with the details right then. That definitely wasn’t enough anymore, not given the fact that there was now actual photographic evidence of Phil intertwined with a very obviously famous boy that his mum would definitely recognize. So Phil filed Dan’s stray comment about keeping his parents and love life separate into the discuss later part of his brain.

Turning his focus back to the problem at hand, Phil tried to search for a solution. “We should call them, right? Our managers, I mean,” Phil asked, uncertain and unconvinced with his own suggestion. “Or should we talk about this first, just us?”

Dan clicked his phone off, chucking it haphazardly into his lap, and rolled his head to face Phil. His face was still tense with stress, his eyes lit up with something far too close to regret for Phil’s comfort.

“I’m sorry I was all over you last night, I feel like this is my fault,” Dan lamented, his eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds. It wasn’t an answer to Phil’s question, it was just an… unnecessary apology.

“Hey,” Phil said softly, nudging his shoulder against Dan’s and tipping his head up with gentle fingers on Dan’s chin. Their gazes finally met, and Phil pressed a sweet kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Last night was just as much me as it was you,” Phil assured him.

“Yeah, but I was the sloppy, needy one who practically begged his boyfriend to take care of him,” Dan rebutted, his face still filled with far more remorse than Phil ever wanted to see on it.

“Shush,” Phil admonished kindly. “You may have been a bit needy, but I was more than willing to take care of you, baby. I don’t want you to ever feel bad for asking for what you need, I want to give it to you no matter what.”

Dan’s eyes snapped shut again, his breath coming a bit heavier than it had been a minute ago. A tense moment passed before he finally spoke.

“Fuck, Phil. You can’t just say shit like that,” he grumbled, eyes batting open and boring into Phil’s. “Not if you’re not willing to fuck me, anyway,” he added, a hint of a smirk toying at his lips.

“Later, babe, after we deal with this.” Phil kissed Dan’s forehead again, this time letting his lips linger for a few seconds before pulling back and letting Dan’s chin dip back down. Gaze trained on the top of Dan’s head and eyes tracing the messy curls, Phil’s mind drifted back to the problem at hand.

Fiddling with his phone in one hand as he searched for what to say next, Phil’s mind fumbled through vague, half-formed ideas. But before he could articulate any of them, the harsh, unexpected vibrating of his phone derailed his thoughts. Even as he glanced down, Phil could already guess that the call was from his manager — in hindsight, the buzzing really shouldn’t be that surprising, given all the other missed calls.

“I can let it go to voicemail,” Phil offered, making no move to answer the call. “That way we can talk first.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dan sighed. “Stalling won’t make things any easier. Just… figure out what she’s thinking and don’t agree to anything major, and I’ll do the same with Louise and then we can figure it out together.”

“Mmk,” Phil hummed in agreement, swiping to answer the call at the last second. “Hi, Marianne,” he greeted when the call connected. His voice had none of its usual enthusiasm, and his attention was only half focused on the call — the rest of it was watching Dan dial his own call, presumably to Louise, as he made his way to the bathroom and shut the door.

As much as Phil wanted to know what was happening with Dan’s conversation, the separation was probably for the best. Phil was certain that he wouldn’t be able to focus on his own conversation if Dan was still in the room.

Marianne didn’t beat around the bush; there were no pleasantries, no polite inquiries about his trip to the US. Instead, she jumped right into the crux of the drama.

“Phil, I didn’t push you to address the rumors when Dan came out,” Marianne said, her voice stern and leaving no room for discussion. “But you cannot ignore two scandals in a week.”

“I —” Phil started, intending to push back. But even as he pieced together his rebuttal, he knew she was right. His silence would only fuel the rumors, and besides, he felt like he needed to tell his audience something. In the past, he’d always been open about his friends, had always regaled his audience with tales of his travels, had always acknowledged any drama he was dragged into.

Phil sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he was definitely going to have to do something publically. “Fine, you’re right. What do you have in mind?”

“The sooner you respond, the better,” Marianne answered immediately, sounding like she’d already thought this through — and she probably had. Unlike Phil, she’d known about this for almost the whole day, not a handful of minutes. “I think you should move your liveshow up to tonight. You should probably start by saying that you’re in New York with Dan, even though that’s well obvious at this point.”

Phil huffed a laugh, but Marianne continued without pausing.

“You can let the picture come up naturally — I’m sure plenty of people will be asking about it. Don’t just answer the first one on a whim though, wait until you find one that you feel comfortable answering. One you think can be a good opening to the topic. And then you can tell your version of the story.”

“Okay,” Phil said slowly, his mind already fast-forwarding to the liveshow, spinning the story different ways and imagining how his audience might respond. Sighing, Phil asked the question he knew Marianne would answer anyway, but that he just wanted out of the way at this point. “I know you have an opinion about what I should say, so let’s hear it,” he mumbled, resigned. At this point, he had no idea what he should do, and he was open to just about any suggestion.

“Of course I do,” Marianne said. Phil bit his lip, waiting with bated breath to hear her assessment. “But,” she continued after a second’s pause, “this isn’t just about your career, it’s your life. And it’s Dan’s life, too. Whatever you say, it needs to be what’s right for the both of you, and I can’t answer that.”

“I — yeah. You’re right. Thanks,” Phil said gratefully before running through the logistics of the liveshow. One of his favorite parts about working with Marianne was that she wasn’t overly controlling, especially when it came to stuff that would actually impact Phil’s personal life.

“So…” Marianne broached tentatively. “Do you think you know what you want to do?”

Phil cast his gaze about the room, his eyes catching on movement from the hallway; the bathroom door was opening and Dan stepped out, one hand aggravatedly rubbing down his face.

“Not yet, Marianne,” Phil answered, his eyes trained on Dan. “I’ll figure it out before I go live tonight, though.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed politely. There was a brief pause before, “Phil?”

“Mmm?” Phil hummed in response, thrown off by the uncharacteristically tentative tone.

Marianne took a deep breath. “Do whatever you think is best,” she said, strong and sure. “You have my full support.”

“Thanks,” Phil murmured, taken aback by the sincerity of the moment — he always had known Marianne cared for him, she’d been his manager for years after all, but their relationship was always based on business. They weren’t like Dan and Louise, they weren’t friends first and professionals second.

The unconditional support, while perhaps surprising, was certainly welcomed.

“I’ll let you know what we decide,” Phil promised softly. After saying goodbye, he hung up and turned to Dan, who was already off the phone with Louise and hovering near the entrance to the bedroom.

Phil tapped his phone against his thigh, his nervous energy needing some outlet. He glanced down and saw that the screen had gone back to the last thing he was looking at before the call came through — twitter. “So Marianne wants me to—”

“Do your liveshow tonight,” Dan finished for him swiftly. He moved further into the room, sitting back on his side of the bed. “Yeah, I gathered.”

Turning his attention to his phone, Phil navigated back to his profile. He clicked on the picture and gave it a good, long stare, trying trying to analyze it objectively. Trying to see it through his audience’s eyes.

Trying to decipher his own feelings about it.

“What do I say?” Phil asked, holding his breath. His own indecisiveness aside, he needed to know where Dan’s mind was at. Phil knew Dan hadn’t wanted to get into the specifics with their audiences, but, well, things had clearly changed. And now, Phil had no idea what to expect — he wasn’t sure if Dan would want to hold onto that shred of deniability, or if Dan’s newly-loud bi-pride would mean he’d want to fully embrace the implications of the picture.

At this point, Phil wasn’t even sure how he wanted to handle the picture. Objectively, he knew the most on brand way spin it: find the most platonic, innocent angle and double down, deny any sexual or romantic implications. He didn’t need to say it out loud, didn’t need to hear Marianne say it, to know it was the most AmazingPhil reaction he could muster up.

But even as he played out the fabricated story in his head, he was pretty sure he hated it.

Phil glanced up at Dan, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. For several seconds, the world was silent; it was just Dan biting his bottom lip, his eyes trained on the photo on Phil’s screen, and his face betraying absolutely no indication of what was going through his mind. Finally, his gaze flitted back up to Phil, his eyes clouded and unclear. “That I was drunk and cold and you were taking me back.”

Phil quirked an eyebrow, a million follow-up questions immediately badgering his mind — the same follow up questions that everyone would have. Where were they before? What had they been doing that got Dan drunk? Were other people with them? Was Phil drunk, too? Had this happened before? Were they going back to the same room? Was Dan this touchy with everyone when he was drunk, or was that just Phil?

Dan shrugged but didn’t avert his gaze. “That’s enough of an answer. If people want to assume that back meant to a shared room, fine. If they assume it’s to a different room in the same hotel, fine.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed noncommittally, just enough to show Dan he was listening.

Dan’s eyes shifted to the desk, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Phil had known Dan long enough to recognize his thinking face, so he waited, swallowing back all the questions he was tempted to ask. Finally, Dan continued, once again meeting Phil’s gaze, a spark of resolution in his eyes. “I don’t want to lie,” he said firmly. “But also, the past few days have been… a lot. Significant. I wanted to… let them stand alone. And my relationships — I’ve always tried to keep my personal life private, but I also haven’t exactly ever been forced to ever own up or deny them.”

Phil nodded slowly. “That’s fair,” he agreed, his words like molasses. He understood Dan’s points, he really did. He was so, so thrilled that Dan didn’t want to hide this relationship — a distinct change from the relationships Dan had described having with other boys (and most girls, for that matter). Nervously, Phil cocked his head. “And, hypothetically, what if I’m forced to confirm or deny?”

It was an entirely unnecessary question, really. Phil was planning to do a liveshow — the audience was always entirely separated from him, there was never a way for them to know for certain which questions Phil had and had not seen. Unless literally every single question was about Dan, Phil’s hand wouldn’t be forced.

But still… Phil wanted to know. He needed to know where Dan stood, where his mind was at right now. So Phil stared at Dan curiously, brow cocked and head tilted, until Dan finally responded.

Once again, Dan shrugged, but this time it wasn’t as… apathetic. This time, it was just… resigned, maybe? Phil couldn’t quite tell; he didn’t like not being able to read Dan’s body language.

“I’m not gonna dictate what you should and shouldn’t say to your audience,” Dan said, lips pursed. “If you feel backed into a corner, say whatever you want. I know you’re not gonna fuck me over.” Dan rubbed his hands over his face, nervous energy lacing the movement. He dropped his hands and looked back at Phil. “Like I said, I don’t wanna lie, but I also don’t wanna make you feel like you have to tell your audience anything in particular.”

“So just to be clear,” Phil started, a smile creeping onto his face and into his voice. “If — for some reason — I have to say yes or no, it’s okay if I say either?”

“Phil.” Dan’s voice was low and uncharacteristically sincere, his pupils blown wide, and his hand twitching like it was fighting back the urge to reach for Phil’s. “I’m having an amazing time with you and I’m...I’m in this... for the long haul,” Dan’s gaze flickered to the side, resting on his black notebook next to his leg. His words were slow and deliberate, like he was carefully selecting each one.

Phil couldn’t tune out the butterflies that were beating against his stomach, and could barely bite back an overly enthusiastic me too.

But Dan ploughed on before Phil could say anything, and maybe that was for the best. “I’m having trouble imagining a world where it’s not eventually completely obvious what you are to me, so...” Phil’s mind jumped to all the possible whys behind that statement; he couldn’t help it. Dan’s lyrics and album theme flashed through his mind, but so did Dan’s instagram posts and flirty tweets.

Dan’s eyes finally shifted back to Phil’s, determined, tenacious. “So I’d rather not lie,” Dan said, sure and confident. “If they know something for certain, I’d rather it be the truth. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of — of —”

Dan’s gaze dropped again, and Phil bit his lips, holding back a smile as he imagined what the rest of Dan’s sentence might be, what it might mean. Everything Dan had said today seemed half shared, just a small portion of what Dan seemed to want to say. Phil didn’t want to be overly presumptuous, to pretend he knew what Dan was thinking, but he felt confident in his guesses to the end of at least a few of Dan’s sentences.

i deeply appreciate all of you wonderful, lovely readers who have stood by me while i took a few month break, both from this fic and kinda from the phandom as a whole. i appreciate everyone who has reached out over the past few months, both to share thoughts about ly and to just chat. it all really helped motivate me to get back into writing and to connect with the phandom again.

as always, a special thank you to my love elizajane for never-ending support, love, and editing <3

as always, skippable hard smut is in the ~*~*~*~

*****************************

Phil woke up to the soft tickle of brown curls brushing under his chin. It took him a moment to make sense of it, to adjust to the brightness of the world, but he slowly realized that the curls belonged to Dan, who had managed to tuck his head into the crook of Phil’s neck sometime during the night. It took Phil another long moment to realize that their limbs were tangled together, hence why he couldn’t seem to make his leg move. Softly, careful not to disturb Dan, Phil trailed the tips of his fingers down Dan’s back, loving how smooth and soft Dan’s skin was under his touch. It wasn’t until Phil’s fingers reached the base of Dan’s spine that he realized they were completely naked beneath the covers.

Craning his neck a bit, Phil peaked down at Dan and found that he was still asleep, his eyes gently closed, his long lashes fanned across his cheeks. Dan looked softer like this — his over the top facial expressions and booming passionate voice melted away, leaving nothing but a quiet calm in their wake. And maybe it was Phil’s imagination, but Dan seemed particularly at peace this morning. He (maybe a bit arrogantly) wondered if it was thanks to the rather amazing sex they’d had last night — the sex where Dan had come not once, but twice. And, fleetingly, he couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the kind of sex they’d had, if Dan’s quiet peace had something some to do with the way they’d let go last night, the way Phil had taken charge, the way Dan had seemed to hand himself over to Phil.

They’d been toeing that line for a while now, and last night, Dan seemed almost desperate to cross it. Phil hoped it helped, Phil always hoped he was able to help Dan when he was so tightly wound. Coffee seemed rather counter-productive, and songwriting was hardly something Phil had any real power over, even if he knew it helped Dan clear his mind.

But sex — sex with a healthy dose of consensual control? That was definitely something Phil could give Dan any time he needed it. With pleasure.

The morning sun was streaming in through the window — apparently they’d failed to properly close the curtains last night. That wasn’t exactly surprising, given how heated and passionate things had been when they’d finally gotten back to the room after a long night of food, alcohol, and teasing. And then Dan had barely been willing to move after they’d finished; it’d taken all of Phil’s willpower and persuasive abilities to convince Dan to move off him — and stay somewhat awake — long enough for Phil to wipe the cum from his chest and shift them both under the fluffy duvet cover. They never got around to that shower Phil had suggested.

Now that the morning had dawned, Phil found himself wishing they’d done a touch more thinking ahead last night. Closing the curtains would have been a good start, but remembering to put a couple glasses (or pitchers) of water — and maybe some paracetamol — by the bed really would have been a good decision.

But alas, the only things on their bedside table were a half-empty bottle of lube and Phil’s glasses. Eager to try anything that might ebb his hangover headache that didn’t require moving Dan, Phil reached for his glasses and clumsily shoved them onto his face.

The world was a bit clearer now and, if anything, the room seemed somehow more bright. Plus, Phil was becoming increasingly aware of his rather pressing need to pee and a desperate craving for coffee that only grew as the moments passed.

Wanting to let Dan sleep as long as he could, Phil first reached for the telephone and pressed the room service button. It wasn’t until the phone was ringing that Phil realized the menu book was on the other side of the room and he didn’t actually know what Dan would want.

“Room service,” a monotone voice answered.

Oh well, Phil would just have to wing it.

“A pot of coffee — the biggest you have. And a triple espresso with one sugar,” Phil grumbled. His voice was gruff, scratchy from sleep and hoarse from having to yell in the club.

“Any food?” the bored-sounding employee asked.

“Pancakes,” Phil answered reflexively, defaulting to his favorite American breakfast. And a veggie omelet,” he added, thinking it sounded like something Dan might like. “And a plate of bacon. And whatever breakfast potatoes you have.” God, he really needed greasy food. And if Dan woke up in any state like Phil, he would too.

“Anything else?”

“A yogurt parfait,” Phil tacked on, remember Dan eating one at least a few times since they’ve known each other.

“It’ll be up in about thirty minutes,” the man said flatly, and the call disconnected.

Well, that was one problem solved without waking Dan, but Phil didn’t have much hope for being able to fix his rather dire need to pee without disturbing his sleeping boyfriend. Going was a non-option at this point, though, so Phil carefully — carefully — lifted Dan up and tried to sneakily slip out from under him.

Unsurprisingly, Phil’s plan failed; Dan’s arm tightened around Phil’s waist, his fingers digging into the flesh of Phil’s hip, and his elbow unhelpfully pressing against Phil’s bladder.

“Mhm’nah,” Dan mumbled, the nonsensical protest blowing hot air across Phil’s neck.

“I’ll be back in a second, babe,” Phil promised softly, his hand reaching down to gently pry Dan’s fingers from him. It didn’t work — not at all. Dan’s hand may have loosened, but his leg looped further across Phil’s, tightening and drawing their bodies closer, and Dan’s head nuzzled further into the crook of Phil’s neck.

“Dan, hun,” Phil protested quietly as he traced his fingers up and down Dan’s bare back again, noticing the soft ripple of Dan’s spine. “I need’ta go to the bathroom, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Ugh,” Dan responded — it was more of a huff of air in Phil’s neck than anything, and he found himself having to bite back a laugh at Dan’s sleepy antics.

“I ordered room service, it should be here soon.”

That seemed to perk Dan up — his whole body seemed a bit more alert, tight in a way that wasn’t just trying to hold onto Phil.

“Espresso?” he asked hopefully, his voice clearer than it’d been yet, even if his head was still buried in Phil’s neck.

“Of course,” Phil responded with a smile. “Triple with one sugar. What do you think this is? Amateur hour?”

Phil felt Dan smile, a small kiss pressing into his neck. “You’re the best, Phil Lester.”

“Does that mean I can go to the bathroom?”

“Ugh, fine,” Dan relented, his grip on Phil loosening, his body going lax but not actually moving. Trying his best to not entirely disrupt Dan, Phil wrangled himself away from his octopus of a boyfriend and shuffled out of the bed. Standing, Phil stretched his arms, surprised to find how stiff he was — he chose to blame the dancing; it was a much larger amount of physical exercise than he was used to, after all.

“Ya know,” Dan said, sounding a bit more alert. Phil twisted around to look at Dan, only to find him propped up on one elbow, his eyes raking over Phil’s naked body. “I’d planned to wake you up with a blowjob this morning.”

Phil’s lips tipped into a small smile, his eyes darting to the clock. “Well, you’ve still got at least a good twenty minutes before the food is set to arrive.”

Dan smirked back, his eyes slowly dragging their way back up to Phil’s face. “You best make quick work of the loo then, huh?”

~*~*~*~*~*

Sex with Dan was slow and lazy that morning. They were both sleepy and hungover, but waking up next to each other was too much of a novelty for them to be able to keep their hands from wandering until after breakfast. True to his word, Dan wrapped his lips around Phil, taking his time as he moved slowly, languidly, up and down Phil’s cock, licking and sucking and lavishing Phil with attention. Phil’s fingers knotted in Dan’s hair — not guiding, just touching — and he tipped his head so he could watch. As intoxicating as it was to watch his cock slip in and out of Dan’s mouth, the unhurried rock of Dan’s hips against the bed was distracting in the best of ways; Phil’s attention shifted back and forth, flicking from Dan’s mouth to Dan’s arse, over and over and over again.

Phil came quietly, hoarse moans barely audible. Dan swallowed every drop of Phil’s cum, suckling his cock as Phil came down from his high. The overstimulation of Dan lapping his tongue against Phil’s head as he softened, cleaning away all traces of Phil’s cum, slowly became too much, and Phil let out a high-pitched, whiny whimper. Dan pulled back, but didn’t go far; he rested his chin on Phil’s hip, his cheek just barely brushing against Phil’s softening cock, and gazed up at Phil. A satisfied smile spread across Dan’s face, and he seemed to be waiting for Phil to say something.

“ ~*~*~*~*

“You’re so good at that,” Phil finally managed to say, his voice coming out much weaker and gruffer than he intended. His bones felt like soup, his body a heavy, formless weight that Phil was fairly certain he had no control over at the moment. Still, though, he wanted to make Dan feel good, too. “Come’ere,” Phil mumbled, tugging lightly on Dan’s hair. “Lemme help you.”

Dan, however, shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss into the crease of Phil’s hip, right where his chin had been. “I’m okay,” Dan mumbled against Phil’s skin.

Slowly, Phil’s senses were returning to him, and he knit his eyebrows together as he processed what Dan had said.

Phil hesitated, biting his lip, and tried to figure out why Dan wasn’t already crawling up his body, wasn’t already thrusting into Phil’s tight grip.

“Aren’t you, um, hard, though?” Phil finally asked, uncertain. Every other time that Dan had blown Phil, it had really turned Dan on — enough so that all it took was a couple sloppy jerks of his cock to get him off. Phil was concerned, suddenly worried that maybe Dan hadn’t been into this morning as much as he’d thought.

Laughing softly, Dan lifted his head again, looking back up at Phil. “Of course I’m hard,” he chuckled, sounding amused by the question. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that without getting hard.”

Relief — and a swell of self-satisfaction — washed over Phil, and he tugged on Dan’s hair again. “Then get up here so I can take care of you,” Phil insisted.

“Nah,” Dan replied, far too nonchalant considering he was turning down an orgasm, something Phil knew was one of his favorite things.

One hand still in Dan’s hair, Phil pushed up onto one elbow so he could get a better look at Dan’s face. “I don’t want to be the selfish guy who leaves you hard and wanting just because I’m too fucked out after your amazing mouth,” Phil pouted.

“Trust me, if anyone’s being selfish this morning, it’s me.” Dan sounded sure, albeit still amused. Phil furrowed his brows again, not able to fathom how Dan sucking him and cock-blocking himself could possibly be selfish of Dan. “That,” Dan continued pointedly, his head nodding sideways and nudging Phil’s dick, “was entirely fueled by the fact that I love your sucking cock and didn’t get a chance to taste you last night because I was too eager to be fucked by you.”

Phil opened his mouth to respond, but found himself unable to speak in the wake of Dan’s absolutely filthy declaration.

“Besides,” Dan added before Phil could pull himself together enough to say something — anything. “We definitely don’t have the time to do any of the things I want before breakfast, and you probably need at least a little rebound time seeing as you’re an old man,” Dan teased.

“You’re a brat,” Phil grumbled bitterly, even as he let go of Dan’s hair and cupped Dan’s face, stroking his thumb lightly over Dan’s slightly-flushed cheek.

“You’re not wrong,” Dan smiled, his head tipping into Phil’s hold, clearly seeking more of Phil’s touch. A firm knock startled them both, Dan jumping and Phil’s head snapping towards the door. “And apparently I’m not either,” he added smugly.

“Coming!” Dan hollered loud enough to be heard from the hallway. He pressed another chaste kiss to the crook of Phil’s hip and pushed himself off the bed.

Sometime during their conversation, Dan’s dick had calmed down some — not all the way, it was still half-hard, but some at least. It was soft enough that Phil could only barely tell Dan was still sporting a semi once he wrapped the thick cotton robe around himself, which he reckoned was good enough for the room service delivery person.

There was a moment of polite chatter before Phil heard Dan frantically stop the man from bringing the food into the room for him. Phil was still laying in bed completely naked, the covers rucked down around his ankles, and it was definitely not a sight he wanted a random hotel employee to see. Or anyone other than Dan, for that matter.

Dan came back into the room, not carrying an overloaded tray or two like Phil had expected, but instead pushing a full cart of food and drinks. The smell was absolutely heavenly, and Phil was rapidly reminded of his growling stomach and lingering hangover; suddenly Dan pushing off continuing their bedroom in favor of food didn’t seem like such a terrible idea. Maybe by the time Phil devoured the absurd amount of grease, caffeine, and sweets on offer, he’d have the energy to really take care of Dan — to do so in a way that far more exciting than the lackluster handjob he’d been planning on earlier.

One by one, Dan moved plate after plate, drink after drink, from the cart to the bed until they were positively surrounded by a wonderful hangover feast.

Breakfast was delicious, and Phil’s half-asleep, groggy brain had done a sufficient job of picking out food for Dan. After practically chugging half of his espresso (in which Phil had dropped an ice cube from the water pitcher before Dan could burn his tongue for the millionth time), Dan turned excitedly to his veggie omelet, immediately launching into an explanation about how the reason that he’d been trying to cut back on eating meat recently was because Addie went vegan and inspired him to eat better.

Phil smiled, crunching on his bacon, and savored the calmness of this morning, Dan’s softness and passion, and the ease with which him and Dan had settled into everything. The food was good, undoubtedly helping soothe the subtle agony of his hangover. But even more than the food, Phil knew the relief was thanks to Dan — both his wonderful mouth and just his, well, everything. It was impossible to be anything other than happy and entirely content when he got to wake up with Dan, Phil was certain.

They ate for nearly an hour, trading bites of their meals, sipping on their coffee and chugging water. At some point, Dan had refilled his oversized espresso cup with more coffee from Phil’s pot, only briefly scowling at the subpar drink. Phil had been unable — and unwilling— to resist leaning in and kissing Dan’s scrunched nose, which had drawn a quiet laugh and a pink blush from Dan, much to Phil’s satisfaction.

Once the food was gone and the coffee had grown too cold for even Dan to drink, Phil moved the trays back to the cart. When Phil turned back around, he found himself frozen at the bottom of the bed, his movements coming to a crashing halt as his eyes swept over Dan, who’d stretched out enticingly across the whole bed, head on the pillows, feet stretched towards Phil. Dan was still wearing that damn fluffy robe, but sometime during their breakfast shenanigans, the tie had loosened and the cloth had separated so that his chest and thighs were on display, the fabric barely held together enough at Dan’s waist that his hips — and dick — were hidden from view.

“As great as breakfast was...” Dan drawled, one knee drawing up so the robe fell down and gave Phil an incredibly sexy glimpse of his arse. “There wasn’t nearly enough D vitamin. Maybe you can fix that?”

Phil choked, partially from the sheer absurdity of the line, and partially from the implications of what Dan was asking for. Swallowing thickly, Phil tried to maintain at least a bit of his composure and their banter.

“That was the worst line I’ve ever heard,” Phil teased, keeping his hands to himself even though the temptation to run his hands up Dan’s legs was nearly all-consuming.

“Well, sor-rrry,” Dan huffed, exasperated. “I didn’t realize I had to try very hard to get my boyfriend to fuck me.”

The flimsy dam of self-control that had been holding back Phil’s lust broke, and Phil reached out for Dan’s ankles, his hands immediately sliding up Dan’s calves.

“Mmm, you don’t,” Phil hummed, his hands skating ever higher up Dan’s legs. “All you have to do is ask.”

~*~*~*~*

The urgency, along with most — but by no means all — of Dan’s submissiveness, of last night had dissipated, but that didn’t make today any less hot. Today, Phil got to go slower, to take Dan bit by bit and piece him back together again one kiss at a time.

Hands roaming, Phil caressed Dan’s chest, Dan’s sides, Dan’s hair. Phil kissed everywhere he could reach, paying special attention to Dan’s neck because Dan really seemed to like that. Dan was pliant beneath Phil’s weight, his hips bucking when Phil nipped his collarbone, his back arching when Phil changed his angle. The room was filled with soft whimpers from Phil, pulled out of him every time Dan grazed his ear, and breathy moans from Dan, tumbling from his mouth each and every time Phil pushed in.

Everything was slow, easy, as they rocked together, their lips invariably drifting back together over and over again. They came seconds apart, Phil first, then Dan, heads buried in each others’ shoulders. Legs wrapped tightly around Phil’s waist, Dan held Phil close, not letting go. Blood sluggishly made its way back to Phil’s brain as he grew soft, still inside Dan, and the ability to properly think again slowly returned.

Oh, Phil realized, thinking back to last night, to all the times Dan had sucked him. Each and every time, Dan had held Phil in him as long as possible, not letting Phil go until he was soft again. Dan must like — really like — feeling Phil grow soft.

Smiling at the realization, at how intimate of a thing it was to like, Phil pressed a kiss to Dan’s shoulder. Slowly, Phil worked his way up Dan’s neck and back to Dan’s mouth.

~*~*~*~*

A while later, once their breath had finally returned to normal and their kisses languid, Phil dragged Dan out of bed and pulled him into the shower. Phil took the time to wash Dan’s hair and body for him, and relished in the quiet noises of contentment Dan let slip as Phil’s fingers massaged the soap into his scalp. Neither had the stamina, nor the energy, to go for another round in the shower, and Phil was surprised to find just how much he loved the domesticity of showering with Dan with absolutely no expectations of anything else. He knew he’d like it, of course — he’d always liked the domestic parts of relationships — but he didn’t expect it to feel as warm, as right as it did. Showering with Dan, shampooing his hair, being washed by him… every second of it made Phil so happy, and he never wanted to take another shower alone, even if they never had shower sex again.

Was it too soon to be thinking like that? They’d only known each other for a handful of months — and have officially been together for far less than that — but Phil had never felt this way before. It was more than just the blissful honeymoon of a new relationship; he was well acquainted with that rush.

No, this was definitely something more than that. The urge to make Dan smile, the willingness to do just about anything to make him happy, the deep feeling of contentment that settled in Phil’s stomach whenever he was around — none of those were typical beginning-of-relationship feelings. They weren’t even emotions Phil had felt during his longest and best relationships, although those were few and far between.

This thing with Dan was special, more than just… romantic. It was companionship, and trust, and deep compatibility. It was genuine appreciation of everything about each other. Dan had quickly become his best friend, and it was everything he didn’t know he’d been searching for.

Phil wanted to hold onto it — to their relationship, to Dan — forever, and he hoped Dan did, too, because Phil had no intentions of letting him go, of dialing it back. Phil was tempted to bring it up, to make it clear to Dan that he was here to stay for as long as Dan would have him, but Phil knew it was way too soon for that kind of declaration, especially given how panicked Dan had looked that first time he’d accidentally called Phil his boyfriend — and that hadn’t even been that long ago.

It was okay, Phil could wait. He didn’t need to say the words that were burning inside of him for them to be true, he didn’t have to say them out loud for Dan to be able to feel them.

***

“What do you want to do with the rest of our day?” Phil asked, mouthing along the base of Dan’s neck as Dan pulled on his pants.

“Honestly?” Dan tipped his head back, laying it on Phil’s shoulder, and sort of tried to make eye contact. Phil’s hands found Dan’s hips and pulled him backwards a bit, so his bare chest was pressed along Dan’s naked back. A soft, sharp inhale interrupted whatever Dan had been about to say.

“Honestly, what?” Phil prompted, his lips unrelenting in their path up and down the exposed side of Dan’s neck.

Dan laid his hands over Phil’s, their fingers tangling together. Tugging softly, Dan brought Phil’s hands to his stomach and sighed contently once he was fully wrapped up in Phil’s embrace.

“Honestly,” Dan whispered, his eyes falling shut. “I’d really like to totally detox from the outside world for a few hours and spend today just like this. Maybe work on music a bit, if you don’t mind.”

A soft smile took over Phil’s mouth, stopping him from properly being able to kiss Dan. “That sounds like a great afternoon, babe,” Phil murmured. Straightening up, Phil shuffled them closer to the bed, never letting Dan out of his arms. “I’ve got a video that I can edit. I’m sure a bit of guitar won’t be nearly as distracting as a nearly naked Dan Howell.” Phil rocked his hips against Dan’s arse to emphasize his point.

“Oh,” Dan gasped, sounding surprised. His hands tightened on Phil’s, and his hips pressed ever so slightly backwards. “Uh, actually,” he continued hoarsely. “I was probably just gonna, like, lit-rally write, ya know, in my journal.”

Phil untangled his hands from Dan’s and took a step back. “Whatever you want’s fine. If you change your mind, you won’t bother me.”

“Okay,” Dan mumbled quietly, grabbing his backpack and digging the familiar black notebook out. Phil turned to his own bag, crouching down to pull out his laptop and his favorite pair of headphones for editing — they were bulky, over-the-ear headphones, but they had great sound quality and really let him hear every noise in his videos.

Standing back up, Phil turned around to find Dan staring in his direction, looking a bit dazed. Phil cleared his throat, drawing Dan’s attention up to his eyes, and raised an eyebrow curiously.

“Sorry,” Dan said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “Got distracted enjoying the view.”

By this point, Dan had seen Phil in much more scandalous settings than bent over in a pair of tight grey pants, but Phil still felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of Dan so blatantly checking him out.

“You sure you’re going to be able to focus on work, Howell?” Phil teased; he hoped the banter would draw attention away from his red face.

“I’ll have you know, I’m perfectly capable of appreciating pretty things without constantly indulging, Lester.” Dan smirked, his gaze raking up and down Phil’s body before returning to his face, a mischievous glint in Dan’s eye. The lewd scrutiny only added to Phil’s blush.

“There is a first time for everything.” Phil tried to sound gravely serious, he really did, but the grin breaking through his somber expression surely ruined the effect. Giving in, Phil flashed Dan a proper, wide smile as he looped his headphones around his neck. Dan’s gaze tracked the movement, and flicked down to Phil’s computer, his eyes suddenly growing wide.

“Wait!” Dan exclaimed incredulously. “I thought we agreed no outside world! You can’t get on your computer!”

“Oh.” Phil’s eyebrows furrowed together. He hadn’t realized quite how serious Dan had been when he’d said he wanted to detox. Phil looked from his computer to Dan for a second, trying to think of a solution. He hadn’t touched his computer since they’d left London, and if he had any hopes of uploading anytime soon, he should really use this time to edit since Dan was going to be productive anyway.

“Oh!” Phil said again, this time his voice much lighter as realization struck him. He hadn’t touched his computer since he got here. “I haven’t connected to the wifi here, I could just… not?”

“Will that mess up editing for you?” Dan asked tentatively.

Phil thought through his video. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of any animations or sound effects he’d need that he didn’t already have. “I think I’ve got everything downloaded that I need. Definitely at least enough for a rough cut.”

Brows furrowed and head tilted, Dan eyed him skeptically.

“Honestly, I’m good for now,” Phil assured him. “I’ll let you know if that changes, though.”

Dan nodded, face relaxing. “Sounds good,” he agreed. Dan pressed a chaste peck to Phil’s cheek before swiping the hotel pen off the desk and crawling back into the bed. Holding back for just a second, Phil watched Dan settle, the corners of his lips twitching up into a faint smile as he watched Dan fluff the pillows and pull the blankets up to his waist, bending his knees and tucking his feet against his arse so his thighs served as a makeshift vertical table for his notebook.

Phil wondered if this was how Dan wrote when he was alone, if this was how Dan curled up in his own bed to de-stress after a long spout of public-facing events. For months, Phil had longed for these intimate insights into Dan’s life, and now that he had them, he couldn’t help wanting to look for a minute longer, to savor seeing Dan in a way he hadn’t been able to before.

Perhaps Phil got too lost in his thoughts, because Dan looked up from his journal and cocked an eyebrow at Phil.

“Are you planning to join me in bed, or just stand there all afternoon?” Dan teased, smirking at Phil and batting his eyes in a way that he had to know was far too seductive considering he was just asking Phil to come to bed, not come to bed.

Exasperated — but deeply enamored — by Dan’s antics, Phil closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out a huff of air that was definitely a little too close to a snort to be attractive. When Phil was sure he’d recovered his composure, he opened his eyes again, immediately seeking out Dan.

“You’re a piece of work, Howell,” Phil mumbled fondly, smiling softly. Dan shrugged his shoulders and flashed Phil an equally smitten smile. He looked like he might say something, probably something cheeky and unbearably cute like but I’m your piece of work, if Phil had to guess. Right now, though, Phil wasn’t sure he could handle Dan saying something like that — at least not without responding with something too big, too emotional, too soon for the moment.

So Phil tossed his computer on his pillow and inelegantly clambered into the bed, quickly pressing a kiss to Dan’s lips to cut off whatever he’d prepared to say. Leaning back against his half of the headboard, Phil pulled his headphones over his ears and set to work on his video, not quite able to erase the small grin on his lips or quell the lingering butterflies in his stomach.

Silently, Dan and Phil worked side by side for much of the afternoon. They fell into the same routine of their productive skype calls and afternoons at B&G. Except today, they had the benefit of not only being able to occasionally look up and smile softly at each other, but also the ability and freedom to reach out and touch whenever and however they wanted.

The touches started small, infrequent — Dan’s head tipping onto Phil’s shoulder for a few seconds as he chewed on his pen, a sure sign that he was grappling with the words in his head; Phil running his fingers through Dan’s hair whenever his computer took a moment to load or save.

As the afternoon wore on, though, the touches became more — more frequent, more lingering, more constant. Phil let his left hand stay tangled in Dan’s curls, lightly massaging, and clumsily edited with just one hand. Dan lowered his right leg, balancing his notebook a bit precariously on just his left thigh, and shuffled closer to Phil so that they were pressed together from hip to ankle. Eventually, Dan’s leg shifted again, this time looping over Phil’s so they were intertwined. And a bit later, Phil realized that the warm weight of Dan’s head hadn’t lifted from his shoulder for at least half an hour, even though Dan was still furiously writing.

Smiling softly, Phil pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dan’s head and let his arm fall around Dan’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Dan hummed contently, just barely loud enough for Phil to hear through his headphones, and snuggled in, twisting around so both knees fell across Phil’s thighs, his little black book nudging against the edge of Phil’s computer.

Everything about this moment, this afternoon, was so unbelievably domestic, so extraordinarily ordinary. It was just the two of them, working on their respective jobs; Phil piecing together footage and adding in special effects to create his art, Dan writing and scribbling and writing and scribbling to create his.

Phil clicked save, not wanting the program to crash and lose all of his progress — that’d happened one too many times over the years. While the mouse pinwheeled, Phil turned his full attention to Dan, relieved to have a bit of a break. Dan was far too engrossed in his work to notice that Phil had stopped clicking around on his computer and was instead focused on Dan. Phil watched, just observing, as Dan flipped back and forth between two pages, studying the mess of words on the first page and scrawling new words on the second page. It was nice, to experience Dan working with such intense concentration first hand, to get to see it and feel it in person.

Although Phil’s gaze settled on Dan’s hands, he didn’t try to read what Dan was working on. He knew Dan would share it when he was ready. Besides, even if Phil had wanted to steal a peek at whatever Dan was writing, the pages were far too much of a mess for Phil to be able to sneakily read over his shoulder.

The first page — the one Phil assumed was a draft — was covered in words, writing going not just left to right, but up and down and diagonally, and Phil was pretty sure there were even upside down words at the very bottom of the paper. The second page was far less chaotic, but no more readable; Dan’s handwriting was truly abysmal and it would surely take a lot more effort to decipher than Phil could get away with.

Turning his attention back to his computer, Phil went back to editing. He worked quietly, playing and replaying different versions of a particular line, trying to decide which take he liked most. It was as Phil was rewinding, searching for the beginning of what he was fairly certain was the best option, that he heard Dan humming. Phil stilled, straining his ears to listen to Dan, pausing the clip so he could hear better. Phil’s headphones were too fancy, though; they drowned out almost all the noise, the tune just a faint hum that he could barely make out.

Subtly, or at least he hoped subtly, Phil knocked the right ear — the ear facing away from Dan — of his headphones off his ear, pretending to scratch his temple to disguise the movement. Phil tried not to draw attention to himself, to the fact that he was undeniably trying to eavesdrop at this point, and aimlessly started clicking around on his computer, muting the volume so that On-Screen Phil didn’t overshadow Dan.

Phil’s efforts to hide his actions proved to be entirely unnecessary, though; Dan was wrapped up in his own little world, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d drawn attention to himself.

Whatever Dan was humming, it was the same few seconds of a tune, hummed over and over again under Dan’s breath. It wasn’t a familiar tune, certainly not any one of Dan’s songs that Phil had heard, and Phil suspected that it was supposed to go with the lyrics Dan was working on.

If this was a skype call, Phil wondered, would Dan have muted his microphone?

Phil focused on the mmm-mm-mm-m mmm-mmm-mm melody, trying to imagine how Dan might use it, how it might fit into the concept of his new album, what he might be writing about this morning. The tune sounded upbeat, although maybe Phil only thought that because he could see the small smile pulling at Dan’s lips as he hummed it.

Phil wondered what it was about, if it was about him, about them. If it was about last night, dirtily grinding in an anonymous club. If it was about sex, sweaty eager bodies coming together in the middle of the night.

Dan had written about sex before, belted out lyrics that had earned his albums an explicit content warning in front of hundreds of thousands of people — probably without even a shred of embarrassment, too.

Just thinking about Dan writing (and singing, and performing) those kinds of lyrics about Phil made his cheeks burn hot. Unlike the other times Dan had released salacious music, the world — or at least some of it — would be able to tell who Dan was singing about.

It would be very off-brand, the world knowing that innocent AmazingPhil grinds and fucks and gets fucked.

But, then again, Phil thought back to the videos he posted in the beginning, when his channel had been small and youtube was still a mostly undiscovered corner of the burgeoning internet — videos Phil had filmed when he’d been a young and horny mess, desperately hoping that the right boy would watch and want him.

The right boy hadn’t watched, and he wouldn’t for another decade. Lots of wrong ones had, though.

A lot of those videos weren’t on his channel anymore. Some he’d deleted, some were just set to private now, but Phil knew it was all still out there, captured eternity in gifs and reposts and personal downloads. No matter how carefully Phil cultivated a family-friendly image, there would forever be evidence to the contrary.

Evidence so damningly sexual that Dan had jacked off to it. Even just thinking about it embarrassed Phil — even if it turned him on, too.

The AmazingPhil branding could take a hit, especially if it meant hearing more confessions like that from Dan.

“Phil!” A sharp voice broke abruptly through Phil’s thoughts, an impatient hand knocking Phil’s headphones off his ears.

Startled, Phil tore his unfocused eyes away from his computer and whipped his head around to face Dan.

“Did’ya get lost in your head, Philly?” Dan teased.

“Wha? No — I, um.” Phil’s voice came out high, squeaky, and his cheeks heated up again, or maybe they’d never calmed down from earlier. God, Phil really didn’t want to have to admit where his thoughts had been just seconds ago. “I was listening to a clip, uh, trying to decide if it was too long.”

“Riiight,” Dan drawled without even a hint of conviction. Dan’s eyes flicked to Phil’s laptop pointedly, and when Phil followed his gaze, he realized his computer screen had gone dark.

Much to his dismay, Phil was caught.

“I, um, I. I was…” Phil grappled for an explanation for why he’d just been sitting there, evidently for quite a while too, but his brain was muddled and the thoughts from earlier were still lingering, and he couldn’t think straight.

Dan pressed a kiss to Phil’s mouth and effectively shut him up, pulling back before Phil could kiss back. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Dan muttered, his lips so close to Phil’s that he could feel every word.

Phil tipped his head forward, wanting to close the minuscule distance and properly kiss Dan, but he was a second too late. Before Phil could make contact, Dan pulled away, his head returning to its place on Phil’s shoulder.

“Now, for the billionth time, can you please hand me my phone?” Dan whined, his voice laced with laughter.

Pushing his computer into Dan’s lap, Phil stretched out so he could reach the nightstand and unplugged Dan’s phone.

“Are you done detaching from the world?” Phil asked as he settled back into Dan, handing him his phone.

“Detoxing,” Dan corrected, already in the process of turning the device on and shuffling into a seated position. “And no. Just need the voice memo thing.”

“Ah,” Phil acknowledged distantly. He was too distracted, too curious, to say much else. Phil’s arms felt less warm, useless even, without Dan in them, but the view of Dan’s bare back as he leaned forward was nice (not quite as nice as the view of Dan’s face, but nice all the same).

Dan, for his part, was apparently too wrapped up in what he was doing to notice Phil’s lack of response — or heavy gaze peeping over his shoulder. Bypassing all notifications, Phil watched Dan swipe to the second screen and open the voice memo app.

The app loaded, and Phil saw that Dan had hundreds of memos — or at least Phil assumed he did, given that the top one was labeled “New Recording 347”. Some of them, but not many, were labeled. There was one called ly, and a little further down, one called tmiaw. At the very bottom of the screen, Phil noticed one called for phil, and Phil wondered what that one was, if it was one that Dan had sent him already. Peering closer, Phil tried to read the date it was created, hoping for a clue, but Dan pressed the red button and for phil disappeared from view.

Holding the phone flat in front of his face, Dan hummed the melody that had caught Phil’s attention earlier. It started out quietly, just barely louder than when Dan had been humming it under his breath. After a full cycle through the beat, though, Dan grew in volume and started to sway his head with the tune.

“Mmmm-mmm-mm-m, mmm-mmm-mm.” Pause. “Mmmm-mmm-mm-m, mmm-mmm-mm.” Pause. “Mmm-mmm-mm. Mmm-mmm-mm.”

Phil hung back, mesmerized at how Dan was getting lost in the song. Again, the question of what if this was a skype call flitted through Phil’s mind. He was glad he didn’t have to find out.

Gradually, Dan started swaying his shoulders with his head, bopping his whole upper body in time with the melody, until suddenly, he was well and truly into it. When Dan started the tune over, Dan changed it up — this time, Dan wasn’t quite humming, he was almost singing. It was still wordless, but now it was a loud and confident melody that was coming from deep in Dan’s throat — the same place that Dan’s deep moans came from when Phil sucked on his neck just right.

It didn’t even sound that much like moaning, but Phil’s imagination was perfectly capable of making the leap, and he didn’t know how he’d manage to keep his composure if he ever had to listen to Dan do that with his voice in public.

Still not singing any words, Dan added to the melody, throwing in a few quick mm-mm-mms before stopping the recording. Dan unceremoniously chucked his phone on the bed, as if that hadn’t been the most intriguing forty-five seconds of Phil’s life.

“Now that that’s out of my head, I can finally stop worrying about forgetting it.” Dan sighed in relief, collapsing backwards into Phil’s arms and closing his eyes. In his lap, his hand relaxed its grip on his notebook.

His open notebook.

Phil knew he shouldn’t read it, no matter how close and convenient and right there it was, no matter how curious Phil was, no matter how much he wanted to know where Dan’s head was at right now.

Dan’s eyes were still closed, his head tipped back to face the ceiling, and Phil let his curious gaze drift down to the notebook. Not reading, he told himself. Just observing.

Or, at least, he was just observing until his eyes caught on a familiar string of words halfway down the page.

i like me better when im with you

Dan had said that — Dan had said that to Phil just a few days ago, curled up in his arms during the afterglow of a fight. It had been sweet and cute when Dan had said it; Phil had felt a rush of happiness and adoration at the time.

And now it was here, in Dan’s special notebook, a part of whatever he’d written today.

Phil still found it cute, it still made him feel warm inside, but seeing it in words, written down on paper... it was a whole new level of emotion.

Chewing on his lip, Phil grappled with the urge to read more, to figure out the context for Dan writing that. It’s not like he wouldn’t know eventually anyways. Hell, in the grand scheme of time, the whole world would know in an instant. What did it matter if Phil peeked just a little early?

Plus, Dan had left the book open — was holding it open, actually. That was new. All the times in the past, even since Phil learned about the concept, Dan had held the book close, had sheltered it from Phil’s view, had snapped it shut as soon as he was done. Every time, that is, except the time Dan had scribbled Phil’s own words into it, had immediately spun it around to excitedly show Phil.

Suddenly, curiosity was burning in Phil’s veins, and before he knew what he was doing, he was going back to the top, desperate to read everything that Dan had written.

He didn’t make it far before his whole heart caught on fire again — he made it to the end of the first line, to be exact.

to be young and in love in new york city

In love.

The words brought Phil up short, made his heart pound in his chest, erased every thought from his mind that wasn’t one word.

Love.

Phil’s breath hitched in his throat, letting out far too loud of a noise for his comfort. For a moment, Phil didn’t move, certain that he’d drawn too much attention to himself, that Dan would tell him to kindly fuck off. There was no way Dan hadn’t heard that, not with how quiet the room was.

But Dan kept holding the book open and stayed laying back against Phil, so Phil read on.

to not know who I am but still know that i’m good long as you're here with me to be drunk and in love in new york city

Phil’s heart hammered harder, this time a swarm of butterflies joining in. Dan had been writing about last night, just as Phil suspected, but he had picked an entirely different moment — a different emotion — to capture than Phil had anticipated.

It wasn’t about grinding or making out or fucking.

It was about wandering New York’s streets in the dark, drunkenly supporting each other on the walk back to their hotel room. It was about kissing under the blurry lights of Manhattan, completely ignoring the world around them. It was about hands wrapping around waists and heads resting on shoulders and lips softly pressing kisses to foreheads.

No, it wasn’t about any of the filthy, raunchy, unbelievably sexy moments at all. It was about loving.

Phil kept reading, he couldn’t not at this point.

midnight into morning coffee burning through the hours talking

i like me better when im with you i like me better when im with you i knew from the first time, i'd stay for a long time 'cause i like me better when - i like me better when im with you

Phil took a deep breath, his eyes focusing on stay for a long time, his mind supplying endless images of what that might look like — more mornings at B&G, but also more mornings waking up in the same bed. More nights falling asleep watching tv together, but maybe next time in bed, on purpose.

i don't know what it is but i got that feeling waking up in this bed next to you swear the room, it got no ceiling if we lay, let the day just pass us by i might get to too much talking i might have to tell you something

Phil swallowed thickly, his mind immediately supplying what Dan was implying. The words were loud in his own head, three small syllables itching to tumble out of his mouth, to voice what they were clearly both thinking.

Ripping his gaze from the lyrics, Phil turned back to Dan, only to find that Dan’s eyes were no longer closed, his head no longer tilted up towards the ceiling.

No, now Dan was looking directly at Phil, carefully watching him, a small smile pulling at his lips. The notebook was still open — Dan had been holding it open for Phil the entire time.

Phil smiled. He might have been smiling before, he probably was given how happy he felt thinking about Dan’s lyrics, but now he was smiling so widely that his cheeks hurt and his eyes were crinkling and there was a fullness in his throat that he couldn’t quite make go away.

“It’s gorgeous,” Phil managed.

“Yeah?” Dan asked timidly, despite the way he was smiling so widely that both of his dimples were showing.

“Yeah,” Phil echoed back, barely more than a murmur.

Leaning in, Phil cupped Dan’s cheek and slowly guided their lips together. He kissed him long and slow, trying to pour all of his appreciation, all of his agreement, into the kiss. Dan dropped the notebook, his hands grabbing Phil’s waist and holding him steady, kissing Phil back just as eagerly.

Finally, Phil pulled back, just barely, and opened his eyes. Dan was so, so close, his eyelashes fanned across his cheeks, his breath blowing hot air across Phil’s lips. Phil dragged his thumb over Dan’s cheek, relishing the feeling of the soft pink skin under his fingers. Dan’s eyes fluttered open, and then they were both smiling again.

The three words were still there, right on the tip of Phil’s tongue. It was too soon, ridiculously too fast considering Dan had said he wanted to go slow.

So instead, Phil whispered, “for the record, I like me better when I’m with you, too.”

And maybe they weren’t those three words, but they were just as true.

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