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It’s late; dark except for the city lights breaking through the narrow gaps between the blinds.
“This bed isn’t comfortable,” Phil mumbles, destroying the quiet bubble of the hotel room that has almost lulled Dan to sleep. He hears Phil shuffle around, muffling a groan as he mashes his face into a pillow.
Dan snorts. “You’re such an old man.”
“I’m never going to fall asleep,” Phil says, completely ignoring Dan’s jab. “This mattress is as firm as a pile of bricks.”
“I like it,” Dan states, because he does. A firmer mattress has always helped his back, and he was more than relieved to find this hotel used them. Unfortunately, Phil doesn’t feel the same. “And that was a completely unoriginal comparison,” he adds as an afterthought.
“Shut up. Also, the pillows are too squishy.”
“You have a lot of complaints.”
(Dan does agree with the observation, though. The pillows are too squishy.)
Phil exhales dramatically. “I wish we were staying at the Four Seasons.”
“Do you think they have softer beds and sturdier pillows?”
“Probably. Maybe you even get to choose what kind of bed you get,” Phil ponders.
Dan huffs a laugh at that. “I highly doubt it, but sure.”
“Listen,” Phil starts, “don’t knock my dreams.”
“Don’t have stupid dreams, then.”
“You’re actually awful, and I hate you.”
Dan tries his best not to giggle. “Well, if you win the lottery someday, maybe we can go.”
“Who says you’re invited? You were just incredibly rude to me,” Phil says, and Dan can imagine the giant pout the other is sporting right now.
“Who else you gonna bring, Philly?” Dan teases, just because he can.
“My parents, obviously. And definitely Cornelia. Maybe Martyn, but only if he’s nice.”
“Uh huh.” Dan doesn’t say any more, knowing full well Phil’s guilt will be the death of him.
“Ugh, fine,” Phil relents, not a second later. “You can come, too.”
Dan smiles to himself. “Nice to know I’m invited on this imaginary holiday. Thanks, Phil.”
“Just give me the best friend award, and I’ll be happy.” Phil yawns. “Seriously, though. We should save up to stay there some time. Just for a night. For the experience.”
“Sure,” Dan agrees, because it’s not the worst thing they could save for. It is, however, terrifying to think about how much money they’d be spending. “Maybe after we’ve retired.”
Phil sighs, defeated. “I‘ll wish on a star for the lottery, then.”
Dan can’t help rolling his eyes. It’s such a Phil thing to say something like that, and while Dan doesn’t believe wishing on anything will do much good, he still finds it endearing that Phil does.
Truthfully, he wouldn’t mind going to any of the Four Seasons locations with Phil. He wouldn’t mind going anywhere with Phil, if he’s being honest, and it isn’t rare for them to go on a holiday together, but it is rare for them to stay somewhere fancy. They often go for the location itself, not the place they sleep. It’s the whole point of the trip. To explore, not just to get away from their jobs or the monotony of life, but to see the world together.
Together. As best friends who are practically joined at the hip and who much prefer to travel with one another than anyone else.
Dan thinks that’s the end of it, that they’ll both fall asleep now, until Phil breaks the silence once more and asks, “Is your bed any better?”
“It’s the same bed, Phil. Same mattress, same pillows, same duvet.”
“We don’t actually know that,” Phil argues, shifting so he’s half sitting up, his upper back leaning against the headboard. “Maybe yours is slightly softer.”
“I don’t think so.”
“We should swap, just in case.”
“You’re an idiot, and I’m comfortable,” Dan says, closing his eyes before he stares at the outline of Phil’s bare torso for too long.
“Then maybe I’ll crawl in there with you.”
That sends a jolt through Dan’s system, and he has to force his eyes to remain shut when he hears the sound of Phil’s duvet being pushed down further, of Phil swinging his legs over the side of his bed like he’s actually going make good on that threat.
“Go to sleep, Phil,” Dan mumbles before he can get it in his head that Phil means what he’s said in any other context than being a little shit. That maybe he’s trying to share Dan’s bed for other reasons. He isn’t. He’s just curious and hates the mattress he’s been subjected to. That’s all.
A beat passes, and Dan squints through one eye, just enough to see Phil sitting and staring at him. Another beat, and Phil is nodding once to himself before tucking his limbs back into bed and rolling over so he’s facing the wall.
Dan takes the opportunity to look properly without the fear of being caught. Phil’s completely covered aside from his head and the tops of his shoulders, so it isn’t a particularly scandalous image, though Dan enjoys watching the outline of the duvet steadily rise and fall as the other breathes all the same.
He regrets his reaction, in a sense, but he also knows he wouldn’t have handled it well if Phil had climbed into bed with him. They’re both long. There’s no way their legs wouldn’t tangle, or their breaths wouldn’t mix if they lay facing each other, or that Dan would be able to keep his hands to himself with Phil next to him like that.
Things are different at night, less scary, and Dan doesn’t trust himself not to ruin their friendship if he let Phil so close.
—
Another trip, another hotel, another mattress that’s too firm for Phil’s liking. Dan knows this the moment he sits down on his own bed. It’s perfect for him, which means it will be absolutely miserable for Phil.
Dan had tried to find a place that’d be better suited to Phil’s tastes, but alas, the websites were never very clear about how soft or hard the beds were. On a positive note, the pillows were better than where they stayed last time.
It was a few months later, this holiday closer to home than the last. They just wanted to get out, really. It didn’t matter where they stayed.
Neither had brought up what happened last time, either. Things went right back to normal the moment the sun came up. Phil made shitty hotel coffee before launching into the itinerary for the day, and Dan did his best to stay in the moment and not overthink the night before.
Turns out, he was very bad at that.
Every time their hands brushed, or their shoulders bumped, Dan felt a spark that he couldn’t quite ignore. He felt them often in their day-to-day lives, like the overlapping of their fingers when they passed each other a hot drink or a phone to show a funny meme. It was never ignorable to Dan, though it seemed Phil was utterly nonchalant about it with every occurrence.
Now, Dan can’t stop thinking about last time. It’s impossible not to when the environment is practically the same. Sure, the layout is slightly different, but that doesn’t stop the fact that this is another hotel room.
Dan wonders if Phil will comment something similar, if he’ll make another attempt to share a bed (whether it be serious or in jest), or if he’ll do something more than he did last time, whatever that may be.
“This checks off one of two Phil requirements for a good hotel room,” Phil says, startling Dan from where he’s still sitting.
Phil has flopped onto his bed, head testing one of the better pillows, and starfishing out like he’s enjoying himself, though his slight grimace gives him away.
“There’s a coffee machine,” Dan points out. “Surely that’s on your list of requirements, too.”
Phil hums thoughtfully. “That’s true. Although if we’re being thorough, that bathtub is not big enough for me to fit into comfortably.”
“You literally never take baths when we stay at hotels.”
Phil props himself up on his elbows, gaze landing on Dan’s face. “Yeah, but it’s the thought that counts. I should be able to have a nice bath if I so desire,” he muses, smiling cheekily.
Dan stares a little too long at the way Phil’s tongue sticks out between his teeth. He swallows thickly, drawing his eyes back up to Phil’s. Phil, whose expression has gone somewhat complicated and unreadable.
Dan clears his throat. “Fair,” he mumbles, glancing over to the TV.
Nothing’s on, they’ve just gotten here, but Dan suddenly wants nothing more than to have the background noise. It’s grown tense, an atmosphere that rarely exists between them, and Dan would quite like to get rid of it.
“Should we watch something until dinner?” He asks then, chancing a look over at Phil once more. The other is still watching him. Studying him, almost, but he seems to snap out of it when he notices Dan’s eyes on him.
Phil nods. “Sure.” He hesitates. “Can I come over there?”
Dan’s heart launches into his throat. It isn’t as intimate; they’ve shared a sofa while watching a film or playing a video game together, but it still feels like something. It’s rare for them to be in either of their respective bedrooms together, let alone sit in the same bed. There’s never a reason for it.
Here, now, there’s the pretense of a reason. It isn’t easier to see the TV from one bed or another; in fact, it’s arguably the same except for a slight head tilt in the opposite direction. Still, they could argue that Dan’s has a better position. The glare from the afternoon sun through the windows is lessened from there, after all. That’s enough for Dan, even if one of them could easily close the curtains.
It’s fine, Dan decides, as long as they don’t sit too close together. The bed isn’t big, but it’s big enough for them to sit side by side with their legs crossed and arms tucked dutifully into their sides so they don’t touch.
Dan isn’t sure what he’ll do if they touch.
He agrees, nonetheless, with a slight incline of his head. Phil acts immediately, springing off his mattress and onto Dan’s, taking the other down with him.
So much for not touching.
They don’t wrestle as often as they used to, when they were younger and had no way of establishing the contact they craved without the veil of harmless violence. Now that they’re older, they can offer comforting hugs or place a reassuring hand on an arm. The points of contact always make Dan’s skin tingle, but he’s grown better at concealing how it makes him feel on the inside.
They’re wrestling now, though, and Dan kind of loves it. He’s missed it, if he’s being honest. He’s got his fingers in Phil’s sides, tickling him mercilessly as Phil tries to knee him in the ribs to make him stop.
Dan doesn’t stop, not until Phil is on his back, screeching about how Dan’s the worst person in the world and he’s going to call the army. When he does relent, he realizes how close they are. He’s above Phil, hands bracketing the other’s shoulders now that they aren’t occupied by their tickling task.
Phil’s staring up at him, all humor gone from his face. His lips are parted slightly, he’s completely out of breath, and Dan doesn’t think he’s ever looked so beautiful.
Before he says so, as he’s suddenly tempted to do, Dan rolls away so he’s also lying down. He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply in a way he hopes isn’t too noticeable and can be explained away by the physical exertion he’s just displayed.
He hears as Phil sits up, then the low hum of the TV as it’s turned on. There’s a commercial playing. It sounds stupid, though the volume is far too low for Dan to pick out more than every few words.
Phil flicks through a few channels, and then the sound is getting louder. Dan recognizes what show it is instantly, and his eyes spring open.
“Of course you’ve found it.”
Phil looks over at him, smiling happily. “I told you, I’ve got a sixth sense for all things Buffy.”
Dan shakes his head fondly. “I believe you.”
They hold eye contact for a few seconds more, a silent conversation passing between them where they dispel the awkwardness of before and vow not to bring it up for a while, if ever.
Buffy stays on well past dinnertime, Dan and Phil opting to order room service instead of going out to eat, concluding that they’ll start their adventuring tomorrow. This, sitting together and enjoying their favorite TV show, is a good enough start to a holiday for them.
When they’re both yawning nonstop, Phil goes back to his bed without a word. He moves slowly, and Dan almost lets himself believe that Phil is waiting to be asked to stay. He stops that train of thought immediately. He won’t allow himself any false hope. Phil may do one-off things, but that’s all they are. There’s no deeper meaning apart from the one Dan conjures up in his head.
So, without a warm body next to him, Dan falls asleep, a hand resting on the imprint of the sheet from where Phil had been.
—
Dan’s in a state between sleep and wakefulness when his bedroom door creaks open. He doesn’t think much of it; it’s probably just part of an incoming dream.
“Dan,” a voice whispers.
It sounds familiar, though Dan can’t quite place it amidst the brainfog. It’s a nice voice, low and a bit husky. Dan hopes it speaks again, if only to lull him further into blissful unconsciousness.
“Dan,” it says again, slightly louder this time, but no less pleasing.
Dan lets out a quiet hum, his eyes snapping open when a hand is placed on his shoulder, shaking him none too lightly. So he isn’t having a dream where a pleasant voice is speaking to him; it’s actually real life.
Which means it’s Phil he’s hearing. Unless a burglar has broken into their flat and decided to give Dan a visit. If that’s the case, Dan doesn’t think he’d mind as long as they make such angelic sounds. It seems pleasant enough, though still not ideal that a stranger is in his room while he’s trying to sleep.
Dan blinks his eyes a few times, clearing the bleariness from them. He looks up, and there’s Phil, standing over him. He can’t make out his face, the moonlight not doing quite enough to illuminate him properly.
“What you want?” He mumbles, remnants of sleep still swirling around him. He could doze off right now, he reckons, except he won’t because he’s a good housemate and his friend clearly needs something.
“Bad dream,” Phil says, and Dan can just barely detect the sheepishness in his voice.
“Really bad?” Dan asks, stifling a yawn. Phil wouldn’t be here otherwise, he reasons, and as tired as he is, he doesn’t like the idea of Phil being scared. Dan has had his fair share of bad dreams before; he knows the kinds of things they can do to one’s brain.
“Watched you die.”
The answer sends Dan into a sort of must-provide-comfort role, and he sits up abruptly, slightly regretting it when his head spins. He rights himself soon after, shuffling to the other side of the bed and motioning for Phil to sit down in the now empty space. Phil goes easily, looking embarrassed yet still grateful for the gesture.
Dan switches on the small lamp perched on his nightstand. Even if Phil wasn’t haunted by the boogyman or some other monster, Dan’s found it’s still nice to have a bit of light, no matter what the nightmare entails.
“Thanks,” Phil murmurs, staring down at his clasped hands. He’s gripping them a bit too hard from the way his knuckles have gone white, and Dan places one of his own hands atop them. Phil tenses briefly, then relaxes into the touch.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Dan offers, knowing that talking it over can sometimes help.
Phil shakes his head. “Not really.” He sniffles, and it’s then that Dan notices the dampness on his cheeks. He wants to reach out, but he feels that may be a step too far, and settles for rubbing the back of one of Phil’s hands with his thumb.
“Okay,” Dan says softly. Maybe Phil will tell him in the morning, when the dream and its horrors aren’t so fresh in his mind.
“Just want company,” Phil goes on, as if Dan would kick him out if he didn’t give a reason for his sudden appearance.
Dan smiles kindly, though he’s unsure if Phil can see him. “Okay,” he says again.
It’s gratifying to know that Phil is comfortable coming to him like this; that they’ve built up this trusting, safe relationship. For a long time, in their early stages, Dan was under the impression he was the only one getting anything out of their friendship. Phil had saved him, in a lot of ways, and Dan didn’t think he’d ever be able to reciprocate even half of what Phil had done for him.
It was as they got older, several years later, when Dan started noticing the little ways Phil leaned on him. He wasn’t as loud about it as Dan had been, but Dan was beginning to see the signs. The way Phil stands just a little closer when they’re in a public area, or how he depends on Dan to stand up for the two of them. Not that Phil is incapable of doing it himself, he just knows that’s one of Dan’s specialties.
And, above all those things, it’s the way Phil always goes to Dan when he’s had a long day or is stressed about something. He always seems to be certain that Dan can help him wind down; that he’ll be a source of relief when he needs it most.
It’s everything Dan wants.
Well, almost. He’d love to provide a kiss of reassurance when Phil’s nervous, and he'd love to play with his hair when he’s tired. Dan would love to show how deep his affections run, that it’s much more than friendship; that it has been from the beginning, he just didn’t know it yet.
But it feels too late to bring it up now. Maybe not too late, but too awkward. Too dangerous. There is so much more at stake. Phil is his best friend, someone ingrained in every aspect of his life. He can’t lose that, can’t risk pushing for something more without complete certainty that it won’t ruin everything.
Dan goes to retract his hand, thinking it’s been far too long now, and Phil is probably being too polite to say anything about it.
Phil seems to have the opposite idea, as he latches onto Dan’s fingers, keeping him in place. Despite wanting to run from whatever this is, this want from Phil to have physical contact, Dan lets his hand be held. He can’t deny Phil something he needs, especially not when he can feel the other shaking.
“Can we watch something?” Phil asks meekly, still clinging to Dan like he might try pulling away again, something Dan has no intention of doing until Phil wants him to let go.
“Of course,” he says easily, reaching over to retrieve his laptop from where it sits next to his lamp.
He boots it up, and it’s a bit of a struggle to type with one hand, but eventually he makes it to YouTube, clicking on the first compilation of silly animal videos he comes across. Phil hums contentedly, nestling further into Dan’s bed. He isn’t quite lying down, and Dan’s not sure it’s the most comfortable position, but apparently Phil doesn’t mind.
“Comfy?” Dan checks in anyway, because he has to make sure.
Phil nods, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he watches the screen in front of him. Dan’s too busy looking at him to notice what’s going on in the video, but he hasn’t exactly put it on for his own benefit.
“Bed’s not too firm, is it?” He teases, unable to help himself.
Phil squeezes his hand. “Better than a hotel.”
Dan shakes his head. “Idiot,” he whispers under his breath, which earns him a pinch to the skin between his fingers. “Oi,” he remarks, absolutely no heat behind it. He reaches over with his free hand, smacking the side of Phil’s head.
“Hey,” Phil says, pouting. “I’m sad.”
Dan frowns. “Was it really that bad?”
Phil pulls his lower lip between his teeth. “Wasn’t great.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Still,” Dan protests, “nightmares are shitty like that.”
Phil makes a noise of agreement, but doesn’t say anything more. Dan drops the conversation, too, in favor of actually paying attention to the animals bumbling around. It’s cute, and Dan finds himself forgetting his earlier worries, instead swapping them out for appreciation of everything he does have.
It’s Phil’s soft snores that pull him out of the moment, and he glances over to find Phil’s head tipped back in a way that’s sure to give him neck pains in the morning. After slowly removing his hand from Phil’s, Dan carefully readjusts the pillow the other is using. He pulls his duvet further up Phil’s body, tucking him in.
It feels a little too domestic, a little too intimate, but Dan chooses not to overanalyze it right now. They can go back to normal when the sun rises, when they’ve left Dan’s room and are out in the kitchen making breakfast and dreading having to go to their respective jobs. Not that either of them generally hate what they do, it’s just that they’d rather be staying at home in their pj’s watching a show.
Dan closes his laptop, setting it aside before situating himself in bed. He lies facing Phil because it’s the side he typically sleeps on, obviously. He lets his eyes roam over Phil’s face for a bit, admiring the way every crease has smoothed out, creating a completely peaceful expression.
Dan only hopes Phil will have nothing but pleasant dreams this time.
—
They’re here because Phil missed his family, and Dan wasn’t sure he’d be able to survive a week without Phil’s presence. Another holiday is due, anyway, and Dan quite enjoys Phil’s family. They’re good people. Kind, funny, and always welcoming of him, even when he was a stranger Phil met randomly on the internet.
At this point, Dan feels like an extended member of the family. Not quite like Cornelia is as Martyn’s partner, even if that’s what he wishes he could be seen as. It’s close, though, and Dan reckons the contrast in how he’s treated now isn’t all that different from how it would be if he and Phil were dating.
Although he doubts he’ll ever get to find out.
Dan’s spent quite a bit of time here. From when he and Phil were younger and Phil still lived with his parents, to when Dan started staying over for the days leading up to Christmas before going to his own family gathering, to just accompanying Phil whenever he visits.
One would assume they’re together if it weren’t for their adamant promises that they definitely aren’t.
His presence is expected whenever Phil announces he’s coming home, now. The only time Dan hasn’t tagged along, really, was when he had some mandatory work conference thing. Still, Phil updated him with pictures and kept letting him know how much he was missed.
The reminder that Phil was thinking of him even when he was with his family did little to temper down on Dan’s growing, and slightly overwhelming, feelings.
He always stayed in Phil’s room, too. They shared Phil’s bed at first, before Dan had some inexplicable growth spurt that wouldn’t allow them to both fit in the space without cuddling. Something Dan didn’t mind the thought of, but was too scared to voice out loud. After that, they alternated between who got the bed and who slept on the floor. Phil insisted he should always take the floor as Dan was the guest, but Dan fought him tooth and nail until Phil gave in.
This time, though, Dan’s found himself in the guest bedroom. He suggested it, not Phil, who looked crestfallen when Dan brought it up. Dan doesn’t want to sleep here; he wants to be with Phil, but this year has been so confusing already, and Dan can’t bear the thought of what might happen if they share a room.
Phil has been more physical since the night he spent with Dan. Dan never pulls away; his body always rejoicing in the contact, but he’s just not sure what it means. Those first few days, Dan thought Phil was still shaken up about the nightmare he’d had. Then, when it didn’t stop, Dan didn’t know what to think, and he didn’t know how to ask.
He still doesn’t know anything, and that’s why he’s here.
He’s tossing and turning, unable to find a suitable resting position. He’s taken the batteries out of the clocks, their incessant ticking driving him mad, and he vows that he’ll remember to right them before he leaves this time. Still, the silence does nothing to calm him. It’s the environment, he tells himself. He’s never stayed in this room before, and the difference is probably what’s getting to him.
That must be it, and not because he misses the sounds of Phil breathing or the familiar, soothing scent of his room.
He’s too caught up in his thoughts to notice Phil approaching, only snapping out of it when he feels a dip on the other side of the bed. Dan turns his head. He’d put the lights back on when sleep continued to elude him, so he can see Phil clearly. His shoulders are hunched a little, and he’s looking at Dan with slight concern.
“Hi,” Dan says when the silence stretches on too long.
“Hi,” Phil echoes. “Sorry, I just…” he hesitates. “You’re still up?”
“I mean, you are, too,” Dan points out, arching an eyebrow. “What were you going to say?”
Phil shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Did you have another bad dream?” Dan asks instead of pushing further. It’d be futile, anyway.
“No.”
“Do you need something?”
“No.”
Dan sighs. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Phil says, shrugging.
Before Dan can ask anymore questions, Phil slides into the bed. It’s the last thing Dan expects him to do, though maybe it shouldn’t be. Along with the increase in touches, Phil’s been far more clingy than usual as of late.
Dan looks at Phil, slightly dazed, and Phil stares right back at him, almost like he’s challenging Dan to tell him to leave. Dan doesn’t. He can’t. Phil is here of his own free will, and Dan wants him to be here even if it means nothing more than Phil being lonely.
Finally, Dan says, “Stay,” knowing full well that was Phil’s plan, anyway. Still, he wants Phil to know that he’s certainly not against it.
Phil smiles, a small thing. “Okay.” He tilts his head then, squinting his eyes in concentration. “Did you take the batteries out of the clocks again?”
“Maybe,” Dan admits, looking down at his lap.
Phil laughs, soft and fond, and Dan feels himself fall a little harder. “Mum’s gonna know it’s you, now.”
Dan whips his head toward Phil, taken aback. “She doesn’t know it’s me?”
A blush takes over Phil’s face, but he doesn’t shy away from the question. “She got super pissed the first time, so I just told her it was me; that I’d suddenly developed a dislike of the ticking sound.”
Dan thinks his jaw might be on the floor. “What about that time I couldn’t come with you?”
Phil fidgets with his fingers, eyes darting around the room like he’s seeing it for the first time. “I, um, might’ve taken the batteries out myself.” He clears his throat, continuing before Dan can say anything. “So like, I guess just remember to put them back in.”
“Right,” Dan breathes. He doesn’t know what else to say.
“Was that a weird thing to do?” Phil asks then. “I didn’t want mum to be upset with you. I mean, she’d probably have gotten over it; she liked you from the start, but I was so scared back then. That she wouldn’t allow you back.”
Dan exhales slowly. It’s a lot to take in. All this time, Dan was under the impression that Kath knew it was him and was too kind to say anything about it, merely fixing the clocks after he left. Now, he knows that Phil’s been covering for him. For years. And it isn’t something big or life-changing, but it feels like something to Dan. Something more than a small lie that has little to no consequence.
“That’s… sweet, I think,” Dan says. “A little strange, but you always have been.”
Phil shoves lightly at his shoulder. “I’ve never asked why you do it.” He’s looking at Dan again, far calmer now that Dan hasn’t freaked out over the whole thing.
“Are you going to ask me now?” Dan’s tone has dropped. Above a whisper, yet still quieter than usual, like he’s sharing an important secret.
“No,” Phil replies eventually. “Maybe next time.”
Dan nods, Phil’s answer a bit more cryptic than he’d like. “What if I tell you anyway?”
He doesn’t think he’s talking about taking the batteries out of clocks anymore.
Phil grins, almost like he knows what Dan’s saying. “That’s up to you.”
Dan smiles tentatively. He can’t go through with it. He can’t. That doesn’t stop the way his eyes wander over Phil’s face, the way he stares a little too long at the other’s lips, or the way Phil’s expression brightens when he does.
A little while later, after a lot of mindless chatter and gravitating toward each other, Dan finds himself with an arm wrapped around Phil, the other’s head resting on his chest. Dan hopes he can’t hear the rapid beating of his heart. It’s almost too much, this level of closeness, though Dan couldn’t bring himself to shatter it even if he wanted to. It’s perfect.
“You’ve always stayed in my room,” Phil whispers after Dan has shut off the lights. Dan inhales sharply, and he’s sure Phil notices from the jarring movement of his chest.
Slowly, he releases the air as he says, “This year’s been weird, I just thought it might… be better. If I slept here instead.” He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t think he needs to from the way he feels Phil nod.
“Should I go?” Phil asks, already starting to move away. Dan has already told him to stay, though he does realize what he’s just said goes against that.
He tightens his hold around Phil’s shoulder, keeping him in place until he relaxes. “No,” he assures. “I meant it when I asked you to stay.”
“It was really more of a command,” Phil jokes, and Dan can feel any remaining tension vanish from the other’s body.
“Yeah, well. I still meant it.”
Phil lets out a pleased sigh, nuzzling his face into Dan’s shirt. “Okay.”
Dan has to try very hard not to do something stupid like kiss the top of Phil’s head. While there are several signs of that possibly being an alright thing to do, he doesn’t want to risk interrupting their current moment. If Dan makes a move now, they’ll have to talk about it. What it means, what comes next, all of that. While Dan isn’t averse to those conversations (he’d quite like to have them), right now isn’t the time.
After several minutes, Dan’s not quite sure how many, Phil speaks up again. “They think we’re having a row. My parents.”
Dan hums, fingers grazing up and down Phil’s bicep. “Why’s that?”
“They know you don’t stay in here. I think it surprised them.” Phil pauses. “It surprised me.”
“It’s not that I didn’t want to.”
“I know.”
“And you— you know why, right?”
“I think so,” Phil says quietly. “But we’re not gonna talk about it right now, are we?”
Dan shakes his head, more so to himself than Phil. It still surprises him how mentally linked the two of them are. They should be after the amount of time they spend together, and it makes something warm and happy settle in Dan’s chest whenever he gets reminded of it.
“Not unless you really, really want to.”
Phil snorts, then immediately yawns. “I’m good.”
“Sleepy?”
“Mm. You’re so warm. Like my own personal space heater.”
Dan huffs. “You’re so dumb. I’m not your personal anything.”
“Aren’t you?” Phil tilts his head, and from this close, Dan can see him blinking sweetly despite the darkness of the room around them.
“No,” Dan argues weakly, cursing himself for wanting to agree so easily. He’ll give Phil whatever he wants, really, even if that includes being a personal space heater.
“Hm, I think I am,” Phil concludes, resuming his earlier position.
Dan doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he lets Phil silently celebrate his victory. He could get used to this, sharing regular exchanges like these while in bed together. It sounds like a dream come true, and Dan hopes Phil feels the same.
When Phil eventually falls soundly asleep on his chest, well, Dan thinks he just might.
—
It’s a week later, and Dan’s nerves are sky high as he totters down the hallway. He shouldn’t be terrified of a little thunder and lightning. He isn’t, typically, but this storm seems worse than all the rest. The rain is pelting down harder than it ever has, and Dan has worked it into his head that the roof will cave in at any second.
If that’s the case, then he’d rather not be alone.
Phil’s door is slightly ajar, as it usually is, with a faint glow peering through the crack. Dan takes it as an open invitation to step over the threshold and into the room that’s only slightly larger than his own.
Phil is sitting upright in bed, one of his bedside lamps turned on, and a book propped against his thighs. He isn’t reading it, though, or even paying attention to the object at all. His head is turned toward the window, and it looks like he’s watching the rain come down outside, or maybe it’s the spark of occasional lightning that’s captured his attention. Dan can’t be sure.
Despite their conversation at Phil’s family home, neither has made a move to actually have the talk they both alluded to. It hasn’t been strange between them, though. Dan’s more welcoming of Phil’s touches, even offering some of his own, and it doesn’t feel as scary as it once did. He’s more certain of where they stand; that they have the same end goal, it’s only a matter of getting there.
Dan thinks they will. Eventually. And it’s not like he needs a label, lord knows his thoughts about those, but he does want to discuss what’s been happening. He wants to know what is and isn’t okay for him to do, and he refuses to find out any other way than verbal communication.
“Phil,” he murmurs, voice barely audible over the pattering of rain.
Phil looks over at him, a gentle smile appearing on his lips when he sees Dan. He doesn’t say anything, just sets his book to the side, puts his legs down, and opens his arms.
It’s enough for Dan, who doesn’t waste any time climbing into Phil’s bed and curling into his side. Phil’s got his arms around Dan in seconds, one hand running through the longer hairs on Dan’s nape. He’s due for a haircut, he knows, though he thinks he might keep the start of a mullet he’s got going on.
“Don’t like the storm?” Phil asks softly, breath ghosting over the top of Dan’s head.
Dan suppresses a shiver. “Not this one.”
“What would help?” Before Dan can reply, Phil adds, “Besides it stopping.”
Dan rolls his eyes. “I’ve become too predictable for you.”
“I like it, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Phil confirms. “It means I know you.”
“You already—”
“Better than anyone else, I mean.”
Dan’s heart does a little flip of joy at that. He can’t help it. He knows Phil’s actions have always pointed to him caring; there’s just something different about hearing it stated outright. Words are hard for them, and it’s okay because they have their own ways of expressing themselves, but Dan finds himself craving to hear Phil actually say the more affectionate things from time to time.
“You do,” he says, sinking further into Phil’s arms. “You definitely do.”
“I think you know me best, too,” Phil pushes on hesitantly.
Dan sits up, reluctantly freeing himself from Phil’s hold. “Oh, I absolutely do. I’m Phil trash number one, and I will fight anyone who tries to take that title from me.”
Phil is positively beaming at him when he’s done. “Well, that’s good. Don’t think I’d want it to be anybody else, to be honest.”
Dan flops back onto Phil’s bed, bouncing a bit as he lands. “This definitely counts as a too-soft mattress,” he says.
“Or maybe yours is too firm,” Phil shoots back.
Dan hums thoughtfully. “No, I think you’re the weird one. There’s gotta be a reason all the hotels have firm mattresses instead of soft ones.”
“How do you know you’re the only one not complaining about the mattresses?”
“I guess I don’t, though I reckon any intelligent establishment would change something that’s getting a lot of complaints.”
Phil crosses his arms, pouting. “Stop arguing with me and just admit you’re wrong and I’m right.”
Dan chuckles. “What, because we’ve got different mattress preferences? Is this what tears us apart?”
“I’m sorry that it’s come to this, Danny, but I’m afraid this is the end.” Phil sniffs dramatically. “Don’t cry too much over me, even though I’m worth it.”
Dan rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck in the back of his head. “You’re actually the worst,” he says, then grabs the nearest pillow, hitting Phil over the head with it.
“Oh, that is it,” Phil growls, taking the pillow that’d been supporting his back and whacking Dan.
Not many hits are achieved in the time they spend going at it. In fact, they probably spent more time laughing maniacally than actually attacking each other, their fits of giggles continuing even when they both collapsed onto Phil’s bed, chests heaving.
“That’s my exercise for the year complete,” Phil mutters between ragged breaths.
Dan hums in agreement. “We’re definitely going to get a noise complaint.”
“As if we haven’t already.”
“As long as this isn’t our third strike, or whatever.”
“The storm probably drowned out the noise,” Phil reasons, rolling onto his side to face Dan.
Dan copies him, and suddenly they’re a lot closer than before. Face to face, noses a couple of inches apart. All Dan has to do is lean forward a little, and they’d be within kissing distance; something he definitely wants. Terribly so.
“I’m serious, though,” Dan starts, because he refuses to give in to temptation. “Your bed is literally the worst—”
“Shut up and kiss me already,” Phil interrupts.
Dan stares, all wide-eyed and shocked. “What?”
Phil blinks back at him. “Have I not been obvious?”
“I… maybe?” Dan questions, because he has no idea what “obvious” is supposed to mean. “I mean, I kind of thought you might feel the same things I do after that nightmare you had, but I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t know how to bring it up. And like, what if I did and I’d read it all wrong? Then what?”
Phil furrows his eyebrows. “I thought that’s what we were dancing around at my parents’ house.”
“It was,” Dan says, because he knows that much.
“So why…?”
“I don’t know,” Dan groans, rolling forward so his face is pressed into Phil’s sheet, the duvet all bunched up at the foot of the bed as a result of their pillow fight.
Phil laughs softly. “I didn’t think you felt the same until that night, to be fair.”
Dan peers over at him, frowning. “It felt like I was a lot more transparent than that.”
“If you were, then I was blind to it.”
“You are pretty blind,” Dan muses, now lying flat on his back.
Phil braces himself on his elbow, angling himself so he’s hovering above Dan, who can do nothing but gaze up into the other’s blue, blue eyes. He’s so pretty, Dan thinks, and although it isn’t a new realization, it is one of the first times he’s thought it without shame.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Phil announces. “Is that okay?”
Dan nods, because there’s no way he’s doing anything other than that, and closes his eyes as Phil leans down.
Their lips meet, and the first thing Dan registers is the taste of mint. The second is how right and easy this feels, Phil’s mouth on his, moving slowly in tandem. It’s perfect, and all of Dan’s senses come to life as Phil rests more of his weight on Dan, grounding them both.
When they break apart for air, neither goes very far. Phil rests his forehead against Dan’s as they breathe together, and Dan doesn’t think he’s ever felt this complete.
“I can’t believe it’s taken us this long,” Dan admits quietly. “Unless this is a new thing for you.”
Phil shakes his head. “Definitely not new.” He pauses. “Are we actually that dense?”
Dan giggles. “Afraid we are,” he says wistfully. “At least we can be dense together.”
“My dream partnership,” Phil mumbles dryly. “Two oblivious idiots.”
“We’re perfect for each other.”
“Yeah,” Phil agrees. “We are.” He presses down again, pecking Dan’s lips. “And we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”
Dan grins, looping his arm around Phil’s neck to draw him back in with a bit more urgency than before. They do have a lot of time to make up for, and Dan won’t be wasting it by complaining about the inadequacies of Phil’s mattress.
He’s got far more important things to focus on now.