#toriwrites

Jenner’s voice carried down the corridor as he explained the rooms and muttered about conserving power. Something about not plugging in the video game console. You stifled a laugh.

Dale gave your shoulder a pat, told you to take the room at the end of the hall. “Be nice for the others to have privacy for once,” he said with that fatherly smile.

By the time you reached it, your bag slid off your aching shoulder and thudded to the floor beside the bed.

“Finally,” you breathed. The room looked more like a cheap hotel than a bunker a thousand feet underground.

A bed. A door that shut. And—God bless—running water. Hot.

Then the door creaked.

Daryl Dixon filled the frame, crossbow strapped tight, hair damp with sweat and road dust. He stared at you like you’d broken into his place.

“The hell you doin’ in here?” His voice was rough gravel. “Jenner said this one was mine.”

You straightened. “Dale told me to take it. Said it had a shower.”

Daryl snorted, stepping in. Boots heavy, attitude heavier.

“Figures. Old man’s always stickin’ his nose where it don’t belong.”

He dropped onto the bed, elbows on his knees, eyes cutting to you like a challenge.

“So what—this a sharin’ thing now? Don’t look like this place’s got spares.”

You crossed your arms. “I could ask Lori, or—”

“Don’t.” His jaw ticked, voice sharp. “Last thing I need is folks thinkin’ I can’t handle sharin’ a damn room.”

A pause. Then, softer, grumbling: “Stick to your side. I’ll stick to mine. Simple.”

You sighed, rifling through your bag. “Fine. Shower first, or me?”

“Don’t matter.” He shrugged, eyes flicking away quick. “Go on. Prob’ly take longer anyway. Hog all the damn soap.”

You smirked, heading for the bathroom. “Don’t you dare lie down,” you warned.

He jerked upright. “Ain’t crawlin’ in your spot.”

“Not until you’ve had a wash,” you shot back. “Not sharin’ with soil and whiskey.”

For a heartbeat, he looked like you’d dented his pride. Then he huffed, standing.

“Hell. Fine. Don’t get used to me doin’ favors.”

Minutes later, steam rolled out of the bathroom with him. His hair stuck damp to his forehead, towel slung low around his hips. Water trailed down his chest. He froze when he saw his crossbow propped neatly by the table.

“You touch my gear?” His tone snapped like a trap.

You arched a brow. “It was blocking the door. You want me to break my neck climbing over it?”

His eyes narrowed. A beat passed. Then a grudging grunt. “Sound like a damn wife already. Naggin’ me about my bow.”

“And cover up.” You nodded at his bare torso.

Color climbed his neck. He yanked a flannel from his pack, grumbling.

“Ain’t struttin’ around naked. Don’t get your feathers ruffled.”

He dressed quick, muttering under his breath. You caught the words anyway: “Ain’t never been told to put clothes on so damn fast.”

You grinned, satisfied. “Just because we’re stuck in here together doesn’t make us married, Dixon.”

“Don’t take much these days,” he muttered, voice low. “World’s gone to hell, folks’ll talk if they see us sharin’ a room.” He tugged at his sleeve, jaw set. “Still don’t mean you get to move my bow again.”

“Then don’t put it where I’ll trip,” you tossed back, ducking into the bathroom.

“Always gotta have the last word,” he muttered.

…

Later, towel wrapped tight and toothbrush hanging from your mouth, you nearly dropped everything when Daryl shot upright from the bed like you’d fired at him.

“Jesus—! Woman, tryin’ to give a man a heart attack?” His face flushed, eyes darting anywhere but your towel. “Coulda warned me.”

You mumbled around the toothbrush, “Not like I’m strippin’. First time seein’ a woman?”

He groaned into his hands. “Don’t start. Seen plenty. Just weren’t expectin’ one walkin’ out like that.”

You smirked as you dressed. He muttered about “playin’ house” and “wrong ideas.”

When you finally slid under the blanket, he yanked it right back.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned.

“First come, first served,” he shot back, but loosened his grip just enough for you to take some. “Quit bellyachin’. Don’t need the whole camp hearin’ you whine.”

You scooted closer for warmth. He stiffened, then muttered, “…Fine. But you kick me in your sleep, we’re done.”

A few minutes later, he rolled onto his side, forehead near your neck.

“What are you doing?” you asked, pulse quickening.

“Can’t sleep on my left.” Defensive. “Ain’t tryin’ nothin’. Just how it is.”

You rolled to face him, catching his ears burning red. “Sure, Dixon.”

“Tryin’ to sleep,” he snapped, eyes darting anywhere but yours. “Don’t twist it.”

You smirked, eyes drifting shut. “I doubt that.”

He started muttering immediately, like a man keeping score. “First it’s movin’ my bow… then orderin’ me to shower… stealin’ blankets…”

“I ain’t deaf,” you cut in.

He startled, color flooding his face. “Thought you were out. Just talkin’ to myself.”

When you yanked the blanket again, he finally growled and hauled you against him, arm tight around your waist.

“Alright, enough. Quit wigglin’. Stay still.”

You squeaked. “Coulda just said you wanted to cuddle.”

“Cuddle?” His voice cracked. “Hell no. Don’t even say that word. Just keepin’ warm. That’s it.”

But his thumb brushed absently over your hip, breath warm at your neck.

Too tired to argue, you let sleep take you. The last thing you heard was his rough whisper:

“…Ain’t lettin’ nothin’ happen to ya.”

Morning in the CDC looked the same as night. Sterile lights. Humming walls. The only difference was Glenn’s grin when you and Daryl walked into the dining area together.

“Morning, lovebirds,” he sing-songed, mouth full of eggs.

Daryl froze. Bristled. “Shut it, pizza boy.”

Andrea raised her brows. “Lovebirds?”

Glenn grinned wider. “They walked outta the same room. Real cozy for folks who ‘ain’t sharin’.’”

Daryl slammed his fork down. “Weren’t no romance. Just the old man playin’ matchmaker. Nothin’ else.”

Lori smirked. Carl snickered.

Daryl’s voice sharpened. “What—stick her in with a kid instead? Nah. Don’t make sense. Ain’t explainin’ it again.”

Glenn only smirked harder. Andrea shook her head. Lori laughed into her hand.

You nudged Daryl under the table, biting back a smile. His scowl deepened.

“Don’t,” he muttered. “Ain’t funny.”

But the twitch at the corner of his mouth told you he wasn’t half as mad as he wanted them to believe.

It had been a rather long day for Phil, filming quite a few videos all morning for his youtube channel and then playing catch up on social media. Phil decided that he wanted to go on an evening walk. The weather was quite lovely, and he needed to get some fresh air after being cooped up in his apartment for so long.

Phil’s walking, humming along to the Taylor Swift song that’s stuck in his head. He stops as soon as he hears a sound that sounds like a meow. Phil looks around curiously, and he gasps when he sees a little orange cat across the street. Phil instantly pulls out his phone and starts filming. “Guys, you won’t believe this-” Phil glances both ways before quickly crossing the street, carefully walking over to the cat. “The cat distribution system has finally chosen me. I’ve been waiting for this for so- oh my goodness. Hi.”

The cat starts meowing more, and happily makes his way over to Phil, pawing at his leg.

“Oh wow, you’re super friendly, aren’t you? Hi there,” Phil says, and he bends down to pet the cat’s head. “You’re so cute. Where did you come from? Are you lost?”

“I see you’ve met George,”

Phil blinks in surprise, and he looks up to see a man with curly brown hair walking up to him. “I’m sorry?” He keeps his phone recording, just in case this guy happens to be a total creep and he needs evidence.

“Goerge,” the man says, walking closer to Phil. “This cat has been coming around my apartment for weeks now. I’d love to bring him inside but my dog wouldn’t allow it. He’s super sweet.”

“Yeah,” Phil chuckles softly and finally turns off the video, continuing to pet the cat who is apparently named George. “You said his name was George? Why George?”

“Oh,” the man chuckles. “I’m a Harry Potter fan. I saw the orange hair and thought of Weasley.”

“I see,” Phil says. “Do you think George would come with me?”

“He follows me all the time when I walk my dog, so I’d say there’s a good chance. You’re taking him in?” Dan asks, with a bit of hopefulness in his voice.

“If he’ll let me, then yes, I’d really like to. I’ve been waiting for the cat distribution system to give me a cat for years, ever since I kept seeing all those TikTok’s of other people getting lucky,” Phil chuckles.

“Not to sound really creepy or anything, but… why don’t I walk you back to your apartment? Maybe he’ll follow us. I’ve been feeding him for weeks, but has never let me pick him up,” the man says.

Phil hesitates, because he doesn’t know this man. He’s a total stranger. Just because he seems nice, it doesn’t mean anything. “Uhm,” he begins. “You promise you’re not like… a serial killer or anything?”

He snorts in response, clearly surprised. “I’m not. I promise. Just one of your neighbors who loves cats, animals in general really. Maybe I should tell you my name. I’m Dan. Dan Howell,”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Dan. I’m Phil,”

“Pleasure’s all mine. We should start heading to yours before it gets too dark,” Dan suggests.

“Right, yes. We should do that,” Phil agrees, and he looks down at the cat. “Come on George. Want to follow us? I promise I’ll get you out of this cold. You’ll have a nice bed, plenty of toys, and good food.” 

Dan and Phil slowly start walking with each other, Phil leading the way obviously. After a quick moment, Phil stops to turn and look to see if George has followed them. Unfortunately, he’s still wandering about in the same area, not following them in the slightest, which unsurprisingly disappoints Phil. His heart is totally set on taking George home with him. The cat is sweet, and seems super friendly.

“Hmm. That’s interesting. Usually he’s willing to follow me everywhere I go. Hey, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t I go get Meeko? George loves following me around when I have Meeko,”

“Meeko? That’s cute. Let me guess, you’re a Disney fan too?” Phil asks, grinning.

“Duh,” Dan replies, and grins right back at Phil. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay. I’ll be here, I guess,” Phil says, and watches as Dan walks away, heading towards the apartment building. Phil stares at George for a moment before bending down, and starts calling him over. “Come on, sweet boy. Come here. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help you.” Phil smiles as soon as George finally starts walking over to him, and Phil can’t help but chuckle when the orange cat starts rubbing against his leg, purring and begging for more attention. “That’s a good boy.”

After a few more moments, Phil finally hears footsteps. He looks up and sees Dan walking towards him, this time with a leashed dog. Phil’s eyes widen when he sees that Dan’s dog is a shiba inu, which is definitely not what he expected the dog to be. “Wow. What a gorgeous dog,”

“Thanks. I was always obsessed with shiba inu’s as a kid. Come on, Meeko. Follow me,” Dan says, and he chuckles. “We’re not going our usual walk, so I’m sure he’s wondering what the hell is going on.”

“I promise it won’t be long. I’m just a bit that way,” Phil says as he points towards his apartment building, and he stands again. “Let’s see if it works. I would really like to take this little guy in tonight.”

“Yeah, that would be nice. It’s going to start getting cold soon, and I’d hate for him to have to spend winter outside,” Dan says as he starts walking. Phil walks as well, leading the way to his apartment. He’s pleased when George starts following them. In fact, George follows them all the way to Phil’s apartment building.

“Well, here I am,” Phil says, and he walks up the small set of stairs, he walks up to his door and unlocks it. He opens the door, and he laughs when George just walks right in. “Well, that was easy!”

“I think he knew,” Dan says, grinning. “I’m glad George found a good home.”

“Thanks for the help. Here,” Phil digs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it before handing it to Dan. “Put your number in. I’ll update you on how George is doing. You know, settling in.”

“Thanks,” Dan says, and hands Phil his phone back after putting in his phone number. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Phil says, and he looks down, chuckling when he sees George waiting for him. “Alright. Let’s go.” He looks at Dan one last time before walking into the apartment, allowing George to walk in, before shutting the door and locking it. He takes a deep breath. “Holy shit.”

Phil spends the rest of the night trying to get George settled in. He doesn’t have any supplies, but he already knows that he’s going to go out in the morning to buy everything George needs. Luckily, it’s late, and as soon as Phil got into his bed, George laid right there with him. Phil can only imagine how exhausted the cat must be, fighting for its life and surviving on the streets.

The next few weeks go by in a blur. Phil spends most of his time working at his coffee job, and then going home and taking care of George. He has friends over, but that’s about it. Phil doesn’t have much of a social life, really. But, he was never one to be social anyways. He’d rather hang out with his cat. Phil texts Dan small updates on George every once in a while, or sends him a picture or two, as promised.

Of course, that is until he runs into Dan Howell again. They bump into each other at the mailboxes.

“Oh, hi. Phil, right? It’s been awhile since I’ve last seen you,” Dan says.

Phil chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Yes, it has been. How have you been?”

“Busy, but good. How are you? How’s George?” Dan asks.

This is your chance, Phil. Be brave. “Well, maybe we could talk about it over lunch? You like coffee?”

“I can’t say I’m much of a coffee guy, but I’m certainly not going to miss an opportunity to have lunch with a hot guy like yourself. I know of this sick burger joint that just opened a few months ago. You in?”

Phil’s eyes instantly light up, and he nods eagerly. “That sounds perfect. What do you say… one thirty?”

“One thirty would be great. I’ll text you the directions to the place. I’ll see you at one thirty,”

Meanwhile, Simon…

Grandma cornered Simon, pressing a velvet pouch into his hands.

He was in a crisp white shirt, his tuxedo jacket hanging on a nearby chair.

“These are lucky charms—for the wedding night,” she said with a mischievous grin.

Simon’s eyes widened beneath his mask. “Bloody hell…”

Before he could escape, your dad pulled him aside, his expression serious but proud.

“I told you before, son. You’re right for my daughter. I never had a single doubt about you.”

Simon stood ramrod straight, like a soldier before a general.

“Thank you, sir.”

Your dad chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Nah, don’t be so formal. I’m glad to call you my son.”

Simon froze, his chest tightening. No one had ever said that to him before.

For a man who’d only ever had a team to call family, the words struck deep, leaving him both humbled and terrified.

The chaos only grew. A cousin demanded Simon practice his vows—loudly—in the living room while others threw flowers at him to “test his reflexes.”

By the time he finally escaped upstairs, he looked ready to fake his own death just to get out of it.

“How the hell did I get into this mess?” he muttered, running a hand down his face.

When he stepped outside to clear his head, the sight of the venue stopped him cold.

Rows of chairs perfectly lined, flowers arranged in your favorite colors mixed with his.

His heart pounded, a mix of fear and… something softer.

Price appeared at his side, clapping him on the back with a proud grin.

“Damn, Simon. Never thought you’d get married before Soap did.”

Soap laughed loudly. “Nik and Laswell are bringing Farah and Alex soon. Hope they make it in time! Congratulations, LT.” He clapped Simon’s shoulder with brotherly pride.

For a brief moment, Simon felt a surge of confidence.

Maybe—just maybe—this was right.

Meanwhile, upstairs you were adjusting your hair when there was a soft knock on your door.

You glanced in the mirror and froze. Standing there was Jesse — the boy you’d trained with years ago, the one who had once asked you out before you joined Task Force 141 and met Simon.

He looked sharp in his tuxedo, his hair styled just like the old days.

“Hey, princess,” he said softly. “you look.....” he bit his lower lip "Great"

“Jesse!” you gasped, surprised.

“I heard you’re getting married,” he said, his eyes clouded with hurt. “I… I’m happy for you. Really.”

“Yeah… I am,” you replied carefully.

But the soft reunion didn’t last. His voice grew tight, anger seeping in.

“I just don’t get it. We had something, didn’t we?”

You sighed, stepping toward him. “Jesse, I told you five years ago—”

“I know what you said,” he snapped, “but why can’t you give us a chance?”

“Because there wasn’t an ‘us’ to begin with,” you said firmly. “We were friends. That’s all.”

“Oh, just friends? After everything we’ve been through?” he demanded, pain flashing in his eyes.

You shook your head, turning away. “Jesse, please. It’s over.”

Simon was patrolling the venue, scanning for threats out of habit.

The cool morning breeze carried the scent of roses and candle wax, lanterns glowing softly around the courtyard.

He tugged at the collar of his tux—it didn’t feel like it fit, not the fabric, but this moment.

He’d faced war zones and death without flinching.

But a wedding? His wedding?

Bloody hell.

As he wandered toward the garden, your voice cut through the air.

“Get off me! I said no!”

Simon froze, every instinct kicking in.

His blood turned to ice.

He crept closer, keeping to the shadows, until another voice growled back — Jesse’s voice, low and furious.

“You’re supposed to marry me! Not some masked freak you barely know!”

“How would you know?!” you shouted back, your voice breaking. “You don’t know anything about Riley!”

Jesse snarled, “Why? You know him?!”

Simon’s jaw locked, rage boiling beneath his calm exterior.

His pulse surged, a dark, steady burn.

Then he heard you again — fierce, defiant.

“I told you, we’re done! I’d rather marry a man like him than you!

You don’t get to tell me who to love. I’ve found a family in my team, Jesse. Something you could never understand!”

Simon’s breath caught.

Those words hit him harder than any bullet.

And then he saw it — Jesse’s arm rising, fist curling, ready to strike you.

Simon moved.

A silent blur.

His gloved hand caught Jesse’s wrist mid-swing, iron-strong and unyielding.

“That’s how you treat a lady?” Simon’s voice was calm, almost gentle — but laced with deadly menace.

Jesse froze, face paling as he looked up into Simon’s burning eyes behind the mask.

Simon squeezed, forcing him to drop his fist, then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.

“You’ve got three seconds to walk away. Make me count… and you won’t like what happens.”

He didn’t need to shout. The quiet threat was more terrifying than a scream.

With a final shove, Simon sent Jesse sprawling into the grass.

“Get. Out.”

Jesse scrambled to his feet, retreating into the shadows, muttering curses.

The garden fell silent again, save for your shaky breathing.

You stared at Simon, tears glimmering in your eyes. “I… I didn’t think you’d…”

Your voice faltered. “You actually came for me.”

Simon turned to you fully, slow and gentle

“’Course I did, love,” he said softly. “You think I’d let anyone hurt you?”

Your throat tightened. “Why would you stay with me, Simon? You could’ve run at midnight and abandoned all of this.”

The question hit him like a bullet.

He stepped closer, closing the space until you could feel his warmth.

His hand hovered near your cheek, trembling slightly.

“Run?” he repeated, his voice rough. “Love, I’ve been running my whole bloody life — from my past, from my mistakes… from everything.”

His breath shook as he exhaled.

“But you…” His voice cracked. “You’re the first thing I’ve ever wanted to stay for.”

He cupped your face gently, thumb brushing your skin like it grounded him.

“I didn’t run because…” He hesitated, his voice almost breaking. “Because you make me feel like I’m worth staying for.”

Simon’s eyes softened, raw emotion blazing through.

“Let the world think whatever it wants about today. The truth is…” His lips curved in the faintest, most vulnerable smile.

“I’d marry you a hundred times over — even if it all started as a lie.”

Your breath caught. Tears welled.

“Simon…” you whispered. “you have no idea how much I wanted to hear you say that..... because I just realized I love you.”

Those words shattered the last of Simon’s defenses.

For a man who’d lived surrounded by chaos and betrayal, they were sunlight cutting through smoke.

He didn’t think. He didn’t plan.

He acted.

Simon kissed you like it was the first and last time all at once — raw, desperate, real.

A promise he wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His voice came out low, trembling.

“You’ve just given me something worth fighting for.”

The distant music swelled — the ceremony was about to begin.

Simon chuckled softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“Guess we’d better get back before your gran comes huntin’ me down.”

You laughed shakily. “Yeah… let’s go.”

He held out his hand — not as Ghost, not as a soldier, but as Simon.

You took it, and together you walked back toward the venue.

The doors opened. Gasps filled the room.

Simon stood tall at the alter, as your father walked you down the aisle

Your grandmother nearly fainted with excitement, your dad beamed, your mum teared up.

As you walked down the aisle,

Simon muttered under his breath, deep voice low and reverent “Turns out angels don’t have wings or halos. They wear dark cloaks, hide their smiles, and carry stubborn, brave hearts.”

He glanced at you, awe softening his sharp features. “I got my arse hooked by an angel.”

The vows weren’t perfect.

Simon stumbled through his, you cried through yours — but none of that mattered.

When the officiant declared you husband and wife, Simon didn’t wait for permission.

He cupped your face and kissed you deeply as the room erupted in cheers.

Somewhere, your grandmother shouted, “I knew that blanket worked!”

The crowd burst into laughter.

Simon laughed against your lips, holding you close.

“Home,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You brought me home.”

And with that, the misunderstandings, the chaos, and the accidental wedding didn’t matter anymore.

Because now, it was real.

You weren’t rivals or strangers anymore.

You were partners. Family. Soulmates.

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝... 𝙷𝚒𝚖 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛. 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚔𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍.

Dan should be getting better. He’s been going to therapy every Friday, talking to his therapist. He should be getting better, right? Maybe he hasn’t been completely truthful about his ex-boyfriend.

I'm lying to my therapist

I keep saying things like

"I never saw him and we never kissed"

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Phil asks when they’re in the parking lot, saying goodbye to each other. The weather is poorly, and Dan’s pretty sure there’s been a tornado warning they’ve ignored for the past fifteen minutes, too caught up in seeing each other.

Dan swore to himself that he wouldn’t let this happen again, but he spent the entire night with Phil, sitting together on the seesaw like they were giant kids, trying to talk about their feelings.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow is therapy day, and Dan has no idea what he’s going to say to his therapist, because she thinks he hasn’t been seeing Phil these past few months, that he’s been moving on when in reality, it’s the complete total opposite. Dan falls harder for him every time they see each other, which is the complete opposite of what he wanted. He told himself ages ago that he was over that son of a bitch.

I think he's onto me every time I say

"I'm over that son of a bitch"

I'm lying to my therapist

“I can’t,” Dan says, and he lets out a sigh. “I have therapy tomorrow.”

“Therapy?” Phil asks, frowning slightly. “When did you start doing therapy?”

When you broke my heart the first time and my friends told me I needed therapy when I fell into depression, is what Dan desperately wants to say, but that would be a little mean.

“It’s only been a couple months,” Dan lies quickly, shrugging his shoulders. He looks up at Phil. “I just needed to talk to someone about some issues. It’s nothing serious.”

“Okay then,” Phil says, though he doesn’t seem very convinced, but it’s not like Dan owes him anything, so he’s not going to say any more on the matter. “Text me when you get home.”

“I will,” Dan says, and he allows Phil to pull him into a hug, and Dan doesn’t want the hug to end, but it does too soon. Dan looks at Phil one last time before opening the car door, and climbing into his car. Dan glances up at the dark sky, and then he rolls down his window and looks up at Phil again. “Be safe driving. Looks like there’s bad weather.” He nods towards the sky.

Phil chuckles lightly as he glances at the sky as well. “Yeah, we probably should have left ages ago, huh?”

Dan shrugs. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he rolls his window back up, and turns on his car.

The next morning, Dan spends about an hour debating on whether or not he wants to cancel therapy, because he feels guilty that he’s going to have to lie to her again. He’s just wasting her time.

An hour later, Dan finds himself in the therapist's office, waiting for his therapist to be ready for him, and he’s desperately hoping that she doesn’t bring up Phil today. Dan just wants an hour where he doesn’t have to think about the man. He deserves that. There’s plenty of other things they could be talking about.

“Dan, are you ready?”

Dan looks up from his phone, and sees Angelina standing outside her door, smiling at him. “Uh, yeah,” he quickly clears his throat and stands up, before walking into the office. He walks over and sits in the chair.

“How about that weather last night, huh?” Angelina chuckles, walking over to her desk and sitting down. She looks up at Dan. “I mean, I really thought we were getting a tornado. We dodged the bullet!”

“Yeah, I know,” Dan chuckles. He remembers getting home last night to his apartment and having to go to the bathroom with his dog because the tornado sirens had finally gone off. He’s honestly surprised that he managed to get any sleep last night with all the events that happened. “It was pretty crazy.”

“Yes, well it looks like we have much better weather today. So, what do we want to talk about today?”

Dan can’t help but sigh in relief. “I actually have a lot on my mind…”

Two weeks later is when Dan sees Phil again. They meet up again at their usual place. Dan tries to tell Phil that they can’t keep doing this, that this needs to end. It’s not fair to either of them, and Dan wants to move on, but he can’t with how often they see each other.

Phil disagrees, saying they should give their relationship another try.

“Phil, you hurt me!” Dan cries, getting up from the swing, wanting to walk away. “You put me through hell, and- and do you know how long it took me to get out of the depression I was in after you left?”

“I apologized!” Phil shouts back. “I- I don’t know what I was thinking… I got scared. You were talking about long-term goals and I’ve never been in a serious relationship like ours before. So, I broke it off.”

Dan turns, and looks at Phil. “You should have just talked to me before doing something so drastic,”

“I didn’t know what to say Dan,” Phil argues weakly.

“We could have figured it out together. That’s what couples do,” Dan says, and he stops, looking at Phil, unable to stop the tears from forming in his eyes. Dan never thought about the fact that maybe Phil just didn’t want to figure it out with him. “U- Unless you didn’t want to figure it out together.”

“No! No, it’s not that,” Phil shakes his head quickly, and steps closer to Dan. “I didn’t want to break it off in the first place. I told you, I was just scared of committing to what you were talking about. I know that was wrong of me to do, and I wish I could take it back every single day. I know I hurt you and lost your trust, but can’t you give me another chance? I can make things right,”

Dan sighs as he stares at Phil, and runs a hand through his hair frustratingly. He wants to forgive Phil, because he thinks they could make it work. But, he’s scared of getting hurt again. They were together for three full years before Phil broke it off with him, leaving him in the dark with no explanation. “Fine,” he says. “But we’re going to do this properly. We’re going to start all over, and you’re going to have to earn my trust back. If you can prove to me that you really want this, then I’ll forgive you. Deal?”

“Deal. I think that’s very fair,” Phil says, nodding.

“Okay,” Dan says, and he takes a deep breath, quickly wiping away a tear that slips out of his eyes. “Uhm, it’s- it’s getting a little late. Do you want a ride home?”

“Yeah, that would be nice,” Phil says, nodding. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, and he nods towards his car, before leading the way out of the park.

Phil’s head snaps up as soon as he hears the doorbell ding, and smiles as soon as he sees a customer walk in through the door, the first customer he’s had in twenty minutes so he’s ready to serve. “Hi there! Welcome to The Bean Counter, how may I help you today? Would you like to try our new holiday drink?”

The man lifts his head up, a frown on his face. “You’re… new?”

Phil blinks, and he slowly nods. “Yes. I just started two days ago,” he says. “So, I guess I am new.”

“What happened to the one girl? Uh… Louise?” The brown-haired man asks. “She knows my order.”

“Afraid she’s not in today. She’s actually out of town for the weekend,” Phil explains to the customer. “But, I’m sure I'll still be able to help you. What can I get for you today? I strongly recommend-”

“I don’t want to try one of your annoying holiday drinks. I just want my coffee,”

Phil huffs, feeling himself slightly annoyed by the customer, but the quicker he makes this coffee, the quicker this customer can leave. He’s not going to let this Grinch ruin his perfectly good day. “Okay. Then what kind of coffee would you like me to make?”

“I would like an Americano,” the man grumbles, and he starts pulling out his wallet.

“That will be-”

“I know how much it is,” the man says, handing Phil a five dollar bill.

Phil stares at him for a moment, before taking the bill from him, and starts to pull out the change. “So, are you always this rude to people who make your coffee?”

“Excuse me? I’m not being rude. I just don’t have time to bother with your holiday drinks, and it is way too early in the morning to be so… chipper,” the man takes the change from Phil.

“We have a holiday drink designed after the Grinch. You should try it,” Phil says. “Name?”

“Daniel,” the man grumbles, and he crosses his arms against his chest.

Phil writes the name Daniel on the cup with a sharpie, before turning around so he can finally start making the Americano. How boring, Phil can’t help but think as he makes the drink.

Phil finally gets the coffee made, and he turns around so he can hand it to the customer. “Thank you, have a wonderful evening,”

“Unlikely,” the customer mutters before turning, and walking out of the coffee shop.

“Grinch,” Phil mutters under his breath, and he shakes his head.

“I see you’ve met the ever-so kind Dan,”

Phil looks over and sees the manager, PJ, who’s just walked out from the back. “He’s a regular?”

“Comes in every morning. He orders the same thing, and as long as I’ve known him, he’s never gotten anything but his usual.. I know I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I would recommend not recommending our holiday drinks to him. He’s never bothered to try any of them and gets grumpy when you try to recommend them to him,” PJ informs Phil.

“But, I mean, how could you not love the holiday drinks? They are the best part of the holiday season!” Phil exclaims. “And I’m saying this as a customer, not as someone who works here now.”

PJ chuckles, and he nods in agreement. “I agree. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees,”

Phil huffs once more. “I’ll get him to try one of our drinks,”

“If he comes back,” PJ says, and he shakes his head. “Anyways. Are you ready for your first break?”

“Yeah, I could use a break. Thanks PJ,” Phil says, and starts untying his apron. He gives PJ a smile before turning, and heading towards the back. He walks back to the break room, and plops down on the couch. Phil frowns as he sits there for a moment, staring at nothing, pondering over the interaction he had early with the customer, Dan, his name was. “Who hates holiday drinks?” He shakes his head.

Phil goes about his day, and eventually forgets about the Grinch who hates holiday drinks. He doesn’t think about it again until the next day, when Dan comes in at the same time.

Phil looks up, and freezes slightly when he sees the familiar brown headed man come into the shop.

Dan looks up, and seems just as disappointed to see Phil as Phil is to see him. “Oh. You again?”

“I work here. Still feeling just as Grinch as you were yesterday?” Phil asks in a calm tone, and starts getting Dan’s order up, because he made sure to remember what Dan’s coffee order was previously. Americano. It’s pretty simple to remember, and pretty easy for Phil to make. “You’ll get the Americano?”

Dan blinks as he stares at Phil. “Yes?”

“Excellent, and since you already know how much it is, you can just hand me your payment,” Phil says, unable to stop himself from smirking as he sees the surprised look on Dan’s face.

Dan stares at Phil as he hands him the money, and takes the change back from Phil. “Really? You’re not going to try and force your holiday drinks on me today?”

“Well, uh… do you want me to?” Phil asks. “Because, I can recommend some to you if you’d like me to. My favorite holiday drink is currently the peppermint mocha.”

Dan makes a disgusted face. “That sounds horrific. Peppermint mocha?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, y’know?” Phil says, and he turns around to start making the drink.

Dan stands there, quietly, watching as Phil easily makes his coffee drink. He’s impressed, because this is going a lot different than it was yesterday, and Phil’s not as unbearably chipper either.

Once finished, Phil turns around, and he writes the name Dan on the cup, before handing it to him. “Hope you enjoy it. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow morning,”

“Uh yeah. Thanks,” Dan mumbles before turning and exiting the coffee shop.

Phil grins, feeling proud of himself. No, Dan didn’t try one of their holiday drinks today, but he didn’t get all completely grumpy when Phil mentioned their Peppermint Mocha, and he was only mildly disgusted. But, Phil’s still determined to get Dan’s heart to grow three times bigger.

The next time Phil sees Dan, it’s not actually at the coffee shop. Phil’s in the local mall doing some Christmas shopping. There’s only a few weeks until Christmas and Phil needs to find his family the perfect Christmas presents for when he sees them on Christmas day.

Phil’s just gotten some hot chocolate and is about to turn to exit the bakery shop he’s in, when he bumps into someone. Luckily, he doesn’t spill his hot chocolate, because that would have been more of a disaster, and Phil would have felt extremely bad if he spilled fresh hot chocolate on a stranger.

“Oh my gosh. I’m sorry!” Phil exclaims, his eyes widening in panic.

“No worries, mate,”

Phil looks over at the man he ran into, and stops when he recognizes that it’s actually Dan. “Dan?”

The man’s head instantly snaps up, and it is indeed Dan. “Oh. I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says.

Phil lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I can say the same to you. Doing some Christmas shopping?”

“Yeah, kind of. My brother needed to go Christmas shopping and asked if I wanted to tag along, and I’m just grabbing things for my family if I see anything I like, so-” Dan shrugs his shoulders, and then he notices the cup in Phil’s hand. “You got hot chocolate and not your lame holiday drinks?” Dan smirks.

Phil rolls his eyes. “They are not lame. They’re delicious. Have you ever even tried one?”

“Nope, and I don’t plan to,”

“Dan! There you are!”

Dan looks over, and a younger boy runs up to him. “Adrian, I told you I was coming to the bakery,”

“Yes, but I got lost so it took me a couple extra minutes to find you,” the boy, Adrian, pouts. Dan’s brother looks over when he notices Phil standing there. “Do you know him?”

“Kind of. He works at the coffee shop I go to regularly. I told you about him,”

“Ah yes. I remember you mentioning him before, and how he dared recommend a holiday drink to you,” Adrian says, rolling his eyes, which makes Phil chuckle. “Honestly, you’re so dramatic, Dan.”

“I’m not dramatic!” Dan exclaims, and he glares at his younger brother, before looking at Phil. “Anyways. We need to get something to eat. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow morning?”

“I’m actually off tomorrow. But, I’ll be there the next day,” Phil tells him.

“Cool,” Dan says, and he clears his throat. “I’ll see you. Adrian, come on. The line is getting long.” He tugs on Adrian’s jacket, pulling him towards the line.

“So, that’s the coffee guy you have a crush on?” Phil hears Adrian say to Dan.

“Adrian!” Dan exclaims as his eyes widen in terror.

Phil can’t help but smile to himself, and quickly exits the bakery shop. He continues his Christmas shopping, but all he can think about is how Dan thinks he’s cute? He told his brother he thinks he’s cute? Of course, Phil thinks Dan is quite attractive. He can admit that, even when he thinks Dan’s a Grinch. But, Phil would have never dreamed that someone like Dan would think he’s cute.

When Phil is at work next, he can’t help but tell Louise about running into Dan.

“His brother was there, and apparently Dan thinks I’m cute!” Phil exclaims. “His brother said it.”

“You sound like a little schoolgirl who has a crush,” Louise laughs.

“Do you know how long it’s been since a boy has shown any interest in me whatsoever?” Phil asks, pouting. “Plus, a person like Dan never likes me. We’re total opposites.”

“Well, are you going to do anything about?” Louise asks, raising her eyebrows.

“I… I don’t know. Do you think I should?” Phil asks, biting his lip nervously.

“I think you should if you think you have a chance with him,” Louise says. “I mean, it would work, Phil. You would see Dan every day. I mean, as long as you don’t let a relationship get in your way of work.”

“Of course not,” Phil says, shaking his head. They both turn their heads when they hear their door bell go off, alerting them of a customer. Phil can’t help but smile as soon as he sees that it’s Dan.

“Speak of the devil. There’s your loverboy,” Louise whispers to Phil, smirking when Phil glares at him. “Have fun.” She giggles, and then she walks away.

Phil takes a deep breath, and walks over to the cash register. “So, we meet again,”

Dan looks up. “Hi,” he says.

“Come back for your usual?” Phil asks, getting ready to put Dan’s Americano into the register.

“Actually,” Dan begins, holding his hand out, stopping Phil. “I’d like to try something new today.”

Phil lifts his head up, surprised to hear this. He’s only known Dan a few days, but he knows from what PJ and Louise have told him that Dan never wants to try anything new. “Oh?”

“How about that Peppermint Mocha you were telling me about?” Dan asks.

Phil grins. “I think that would be perfect,” he says, and rings up a Peppermint Mocha for Dan. “Great. That will be five dollars and seventy five cents.”

“I’m sorry. That much for a drink?” Dan scoffs, but he gets out his money anyways. Ah, there’s the Dan that Phil knows. “Sounds a bit ridiculous if you ask me. The things I do for cute boys.”

Phil’s cheeks instantly turn bright pink, because he knows Dan is talking about him,  at least he thinks, and then he takes the six dollars from Dan, and quickly hands him back his change. He looks up at Dan again. “I’ll have your drink ready in a few,” he says. He turns around and starts working on Dan’s drink.

Phil makes Dan’s drink silently, and then he turns around and hands him his drink. “Peppermint Mocha, I really hope you enjoy your drink,” he says.

Dan’s grip tightens around the drink as he stares at Phil. “Yeah. I guess we’ll see,” he mutters, before turning and starting to head out the coffee shop without saying another word.

“Phil,” someone hisses. Phil looks over and blinks when he sees Louise standing by the employees door, looking unamused. “What on Earth are you doing? Go ask that boy on a date!”

Phil’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Dan, who’s about to exit the shop. He quickly hurries around the counter. “Hey Dan!” He shouts, before running over to him.

Dan blinks and he looks up at Phil. “Yeah?”

“Are you doing anything this Saturday?”

“Uhm,” Dan begins, and a smile on his face. “I don’t have any plans at the moment.”

Phil smiles back at him. “Well, how about we go see a movie together? I’ll buy dinner after,”

“Well, how can I say no to an offer like that?” Dan asks, and he laughs softly. “I’ll see you Saturday then?”

“Saturday it is. Here,” Phil says, and he pulls out a notepad, and he writes down his phone number, and hands it to Dan. “Text me later with your details. We’ll work something out.”

Dan raises his eyebrows as he takes the paper from Phil. “Of course you have a notepad in your apron,”

Phil huffs. “Don’t judge me. It comes in handy!”

Dan laughs, and he shakes his head fondly. “Whatever you say, nerd. I have to get to work before my boss yells at me for being late again. Thanks for the drink. I’ll let you know if I hate it,” he says, and winks at Phil, before finally walking out of the coffee shop.

Phil stands there staring at nothing, stunned, for a moment, because he has an actual date. With an actual boy. For the first time in who knows how long. “Holy shit,” he whispers, and then his eyes widen. “What am I going to wear?” He turns around and looks at Louise with terrified eyes.

Louise cheers, clapping for Phil. “Don’t worry, Philip. Louise is here to help,”

Phil can’t help but sigh in relief, because thank God for Louise.

Just a couple hours later, Phil gets a text from an unknown number ‘I didn’t hate the drink x’