what a plot twist you were
My last @phandombigbang fic is here!!! Enjoy you guys!!!
Thank you so so much @blockdedibujo for making the art to this fic! Reblog the art here!
Tags: fluff, angst, getting together, getting drunk, alcohol, minor swearing, bartender!Dan, implied/referenced cheating in past relationships
Word Count: 14.2k
Summary: Dan works as a bartender at nights to pay the bills. His night just keeps getting worse and worse however: some guy tried to grope him, he had three drinks spilled on his shirt so far, and he was tired as hell. But he manages to exit the fray with a new best friend, a man named Phil Lester who has had his heart broken one time too many and has sworn off love. What happens, however, when they fall for one another?
(ao3!) (check out my other fics!)
~~~~~~~~~~
Dan just wanted to go home and fucking sleep.
His day had been particularly miserable. He'd nearly lost all of his groceries and K.O.'d himself trying to walk up the stairs to his flat, he'd stubbed his toe not once, but three times on the same table corner, he'd lost his earbuds, and his laptop had a meltdown about seven seconds into Dan trying to actually use the ancient thing. So upon him coming into work, he already hadn't been in the best of moods.
But in Dan's normal luck, his day only got worse.
It was a Saturday night, so Dan had already been expecting a load of people, but tonight everyone and their mum had apparently decided to go out for drinks because Dan's bar was flooded with people. And all of them were seemingly seeking out to get absolutely smashed.
In translation, that meant Dan earned a shit ton of money, but his shift was hellish.
It was rounding eleven o'clock at night and he still had several hours left of his shift, which looked like he'd be spending in a tequila and margarita soaked shirt because he's had at least three drinks spilled on him so far. To make things better, he'd also had to practically scream for the club's bouncer because a guy drunk one vodka had nearly vaulted over the bar to grope Dan's ass as he was trying to keep up with the drink orders flying in.
So really, Dan was just angry and exhausted, and would probably saw off his arm to curl up in bed at this point.
"Rum and Coke," Dan called, sliding the glass down the bar where an older guy was waiting. He immediately started mixing another—this one a complicated but down-right delicious margarita—the front of his shirt plastered uncomfortably to his body and sticky with half-dried alcohol.
After about fifteen minutes of god-like bartending, a fair amount of the people had left to some other part of the club to dance or flirt, or whatever else anyone does when they're half-way between trashed and tipsy.
He poured the martini into it's glass, added a few olives, and handed it off to the woman waiting. She slipped him an extra tip and a smile after a sip. A man who looked a little older than Dan slumped into the seat of the bar farthest away from everyone else, shoulders slumped together. Dan made his way over when he had the chance.
"What'll it be?" he asked, keeping one eye on the drunk pair of guys practically making out on his bar counter. He'd have to call Al—the bouncer—if they took things any farther. "What?" He asked after he realized that they guy had answered him, but Dan hadn't heard a thing.
"A Black Sunday."
Dan almost asked the guy what he wanted to drink a third time. Surely he had to have heard wrong.
He served a lot of people in a night, sure, and while he was operating in a smaller-scale club, he still had a few people that were here for nothing but the chance to drink their worries away, not to pick up strangers and have fun that they wouldn't even remember the next morning.
The guy's voice was gruff and warbled, but Dan could tell that it wasn't from alcohol. He turned his full attention to the man before him. He was dressed in rumpled clothing that looked as if it had been what he'd slept in the night before and his pitch-black hair was pulled back in a messy quiff—if you could even call it that. There were dark bags under his bloodshot eyes and tear stains rolling down his cheeks. Regardless, Dan couldn't ignore his inherent beauty. His skin was that pretty pale you saw on Instagram, his face sculpted and angular. His eyes were a crystal-blue that reminded Dan of one of his specialty drinks—a fruity cocktail that was fairly popular.
"Okay," Dan said slowly.
A Black Sunday was a hard-core drink. The least potent ingredient was an ounce of 101-proof Wild Turkey Bourbon, and the ounce of 190-proof Everclear vodka added made it have a higher alcohol content than illegal American moonshine. The drink itself was sought after so infrequently, Dan could count on his hands the amount of times he had been asked to make one in all of his years of bartending.
Dan added the bourbon to the cocktail glass, followed by a generous amount of black cherry soda to keep it from tasting like antifreeze. He passed it to the guy who ordered it, and watched in near horror as he took a large gulp without even flinching.
Jesus, there's no way I'm messing with this guy. He's got some serious nerves to be drinking Bloody Sunday's like that. They’re almost straight fucking alcohol.
Dan's attention was called away by a group of people siding up to the bar, all talking loudly. Dan makes their drinks just in time for more people to come. The cycle continues like it normally does every busy night for a while—one order leading to another. The guy sticks around, not saying anything to anyone besides the one time he asked for a refill from Dan.
Eventually, the stream of constant people vying for a drink ebs a little before one in the morning, and Dan finally gets a chance to breathe. The alcohol that had been spilled on him early on had dried, leaving a vague alcoholic stench on Dan's being. His feet hurt a little, and he was starting to get tired of dealing with loads of drunks.
"Another, please."
Dan scooped up the empty glass, holding it for a moment and not immediately filling it. "You might want to slow down with these, mate, they can knock people out cold for like, a whole damn day if you have enough."
The guy didn't say anything back, just started with his red eyes, something hurt in them. Signing, Dan picked up the Everclear.
"I can't believe you've had so many of these, they taste like shit." Dan said simply, putting the bottles back where they went. He handed the now-full glass back to the guy, who nodded in appreciation, taking a large swig.
"They really do," He said, looking at the dark liquid in his hand as if it had personally offended him. Dan smiled and rolled his eyes.
"At least you know that you're torturing your taste buds, I guess."
The guy snorted.
"Yeah, a rude awakening from my normal fruity cocktails," he muttered, sipping his drink.
"Oh my god, there's no way that you drink stuff like that if you're here, on your third Black Sunday and still looking like you need about seven more to get smashed."
"Hard to believe, huh? God, if anyone that knew me could see me now. Or even if I just, I don't know, told someone they'd still never believe me. 'Phil, you cringe at gin and tonics there's no way that you'd drink that' is probably exactly what they'd say." Phil deflated a little, his lip pulling down like he just remembered something that he'd rather forget. "Well, I'd bet anything that it won't take me seven more, but if that's what I need to forget fucking everything," Phil downed almost the rest of his drink, the bottom of the cup clunking back down to the bar, "then by all means I'll do it."
Dan's anxiety spiked a little. He didn't really like it when there was conflict, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that this guy was going through some shit. He decided to change the topic.
"Phil, huh? I'm Dan," Dan said, throwing a glance down the bar, making sure that there still weren't any new customers.
Phil hummed in reply and swallowed down the last dregs of his Black Sunday.
"Another please, Dan. If you can't tell I don't even want to remember my own name."
Frowning, Dan complied, even if a little reluctantly.
"You know, it's probably really bad business, but alcohol is absolute shit for you," he said, passing Phil the cup. Their hands brushed.
"Is that like your doctor telling you that there's more side effects than actual things that help you in a medication?"
Dan laughed. "A little specific, but yeah, I guess so. Are you speaking from experience?" Dan asked, leaning on the bar.
"No, but I did have a really bad experience at the gym."
Dan snorted. Hasn’t everyone?
"No! Really, I did!"
"What'd you do, trip on the treadmill? I hate to break it to you, Phil, but everyone does that."
"I haven't! Besides, that's not what happened at all."
Phil launched himself into an in-depth story about how he'd hired a trainer to help him out, show him the ropes, give him something easy to do, and how it had gone horribly wrong. Dan listened in rapt attention, horrified at what had supposedly happened. In fact, he'd given Phil so much of his focus that when a younger girl asked for a drink, Dan had nearly fucked it up royally because he wasn't paying attention to the cocktail that his hands were trying to independently make.
They kept talking, and if Dan was honest, Phil was more than fun to converse with. They were able to trade stories and even a few jokes. The fact that Phil was extremely attractive even in his severely rumpled state was just an added bonus.
As it rounded three-thirty, there was a surge of people, anxiously drunk for a few last minute drinks before they stumbled their way home or into someone else's arms. The influx carried Dan away from Phil for probably twenty minutes, throwing a wedge into their conversation. Dan, for his part, tried to make the drinks as fast as possible because he wanted to continue where they'd left off—Phil trying to get Dan to believe that a stranger had once walked up to Phil and woofed in his ear.
When he finally returned to Phil, he could tell that it wasn't going to happen.
Phil was slumped over his drink, scowling and clearly buried in his own thoughts. There were tears brimming in his eyes, and the drink that he'd done less than look at in he and Dan's hour long conversation was almost gone. When Phil saw Dan approach him, he chugged the remainder and held it out for Dan to take.
"Another."
Dan's heart pained him.
"Phil…"
"Another." Phil said, his voice so hard and cold, yet so raw.
"No, Phil, I'm not serving you another Black Sunday. You've had too much and I won't be responsible for your liver committing suicide right in front of my eyes!" Dan huffed, his arms crossing. Phil's expression turned sharp, something in his eyes turning dark and jagged. Dan shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
He was unnerved, yes, but Dan stood his ground even if his insides felt like they were grinding together.
Lip curling up into the beginning of a snarl, Phil dropped his hand down, the cocktail glass coming down so hard and fast that Dan feared it would shatter.
"Love. The whole thing is fucked." Phil growled suddenly.
Dan knit his eyebrows. What?
"I mean," Phil said, glaring at his empty glass, "it doesn't feel like it at first. It's all fluffy and happy, skipping classes in secondary school to make-out and holding hands and just...love. And then, oh fuck, then it just gets better. You graduate, both go to separate uni's but out of some miracle you make it work. You move in together. And god, you're so in love it hurts. You spend all of your time together and you love each other and…" Phil drifted off, the knuckles on his wrist blotchy and white, but Dan was too drawn into the soft words Phil was speaking to fear for the safety of the cocktail glass. "And then, he leaves you for one of your friends. But not before fucking the other guy first, and ripping your heart out of your fucking chest and stomping on it." Phil was shaking by the end, a mixture of fire and endless pain in his eyes.
"It hurts so bad, having to try and pick your life back up again from where it was scattered into such small, jagged pieces. Nothing's right either because you're stuck in a constant state of missing. It's been you and him for years at this point—how the hell are you supposed to just move on?" Phil shook his head. "I don't even care. Love isn't supposed to reduce you to sobs, and I want no part of it for the rest of my life," Phil said, practically spitting the last few words, distaste clear on his face.
"Phil...I…" Dan started when it was obvious that Phil wasn't going to say anything else, but he didn't know what to say. Fuck.
With Dan's horrified words, the spell was broken. Phil's head snapped up from where it had been gazing at the table. He stared at Dan for a moment, all of his emotion sprawled out before it all melted away in a single heartbeat, smoothing out into an impenetrable wall. He stood so abruptly that in his intoxicated state, he nearly toppled over. But Dan didn't have a chance to help him before Phil was pushing and shoving his way through the crowd.
Dan felt something heavy settle in his heart. He'd been a bartender for a fair amount of time, and he's had more than his fair share of sob stories. He hated hearing them and knowing that people were hurting enough to fall down the horrendously slippery slope of alcoholism. But the reality was that he could only offer words of comfort, maybe a few free drinks and some advice, but that was it. He'd have to watch as they left.
"Can I get a goddamn drink?"
Dan ground his teeth, turning himself away from where Phil disappeared into the crowd. A thirty-something guy was leaning on the bar, obviously hammered. He carelessly gave his order, eyeing up a pretty blonde a little farther down the bar. Dan made it on autopilot.
The rest of the night was a blur. Business picked up in the remaining few hours, and Dan was working hard to keep up with the orders. Nevertheless, he did it, and even did a relatively above average cleaning job after Al threw out the last of the drunks passed out on the dancefloor.
The rest of the night, he didn't see even a glimpse of that messy black hair.
~~~~~
The next few nights business passed as normal.
Dan took his late shifts in stride, none of them sporting crowds near the likely record that there had been on Saturday. Wednesday, however, at what was an estimate of two-am, a sullen and melancholy voice called out behind him.
"Black Sunday, please."
Dan turned, unable to stop the twitch of his upper lip trying to form a smile when he saw Phil.
Phil was wearing a different button-up, and while he looked to have the same rumpled aura, the shock of black hair seemed to be not quite as tangled and his shoulders were not as drawn in.
Then again, Dan might have just been projecting his wish for Phil to get better onto the man.
"Back again?" Dan asked, sliding a cocktail glass off of it's rack. Phil tossed him the skeleton of a little smile. Dan handed the now-full glass to Phil, and not having a moment to stop and talk, turned back to the other waiting customers.
After a lull in customers opened up he took the opportunity to turn his attention back to Phil. It had been probably about half an hour since Dan had given Phil his drink, and the glass was empty in Phil's pale hands.
Dan frowned, reaching for one of the water bottles he kept behind the bar and setting it down in front of Phil. Phil looked up, confused.
"You're not getting another Black Sunday out of me unless you drink at least this whole thing."
"What? Since when is that a thing?"
"Since you had a billion of them the other night and they have enough alcohol in them to knock out a gorilla."
Phil's brow was still crinkled, but he didn't protest further, curling his hand around the bottle. He sat like that for a moment before looking back up at Dan.
"Are you calling me a gorilla?" he asked softly, confusion still on his face, head tilted. Dan's eyebrows shot to the sky and he swore he rolled his eyes so hard they nearly fell out of his head.
"Is that seriously all you focused on? Jesus, Phil."
"Hey!"
"Here I am, being all kind, giving you water-"
"Dan."
"-and looking out for you-"
"Oh my god, Dan."
"-and you ask me if you're a fucking gorilla?" Dan finished incredulously. Phil was laughing, his tongue poking out from between his teeth, the action making Dan's chest feel warm. Feeling inexplicably and suddenly giddy, Dan continued.
"You know, Phil, I expected better of you, really. Hydration isn't a joke and you of all people should have-"
"Shh!" Phil laughed, reaching up easily against Dan's frame leaning over the bar and clasping his hand over Dan's mouth. And, miraculously stunned, Dan shut up.
Normally, when a customer would touch Dan anywhere—arm, shoulder, waist, hip, or anything else outside of the route of possible and normal physical contact of handing off a drink or collecting a payment—Dan would either chew them out or call Al over depending on his mood that day.
But Dan couldn't tear his eyes away from Phil's clear blue ones, his face happy and giggling, cheeks dusted pink from the alcohol in his first Black Sunday. In fact, he didn't do anything but stand there with his upper body braced on the bar by his elbows, paralyzed by Phil's warm palm on his lips, his face so close, eyes so bright.
Phil pulled away after a second or two, and yet it still felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room.
Dan didn't really know what to do with the knowledge that a touch so casual and obviously careless by a man he'd just met could throw him off like this.
Pulling himself out of his head, Dan forced himself to act somewhat normal, looking behind him to partly look for if there were any other customers waiting, and partly to look like he was keeping an eye out for customers, but instead using the moment turned away from Phil to collect himself.
Dan brought his head back only for Phil's eyes to instantly lock onto Dan's. Phil smiled.
"Where were we?"
They got to talking, and just like the other night, everything just flowed. They even had a heated debate hours later on which Muse album was the greatest while Dan was mixing drinks for a group of college kids.
"No, it's without a doubt Origin of Symmetry."
"I'm not saying that it's a bad album! But The Resistance is easily the best!" Phil said excitedly. He took another sip of his second Black Sunday of the night. He had a certain slur to his words that pointed to his slowly increasing drunkenness, but considering how easily Phil had thrown them back last time he was here, Dan considered it a win. "James and I would always-" Phil stopped so suddenly that Dan's head whipped around, concerned as to what was wrong. Phil's eyes were wide and brimming with tears, a distressed look on his face. A sob escaped his trembling lips, and Dan heard it catch in his throat.
James and I.
It suddenly clicked in Dan's head, and he could feel his own eyes widen. He fumbled with the liquor bottles in his hands, trying not to drop them like his hands had wanted to a heartbeat ago.
"Phil, talk to me." Dan said, setting the ingredients onto the bar closer to Phil and working there, willing his hands to measure and stir and pour faster. Unfortunately, Dan was fighting a bit of an uphill battle with several people waiting for drinks.
Another sob escaped Phil's lips, and to Dan's horror, a few tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes, dripping down his cheeks.
"One of Muse's songs, that was our song. We…" Phil trailed off, hiccuping, full-on crying now. Dan barely understood his garbled words. Phil dropped his face into his hands. Dan practically threw the drinks at the people as he managed to conjure them into existence, throwing himself headfirst into making the next one.
"What did I do wrong?" Phil sobbed. "W-we were happy and w-we loved each other and I was going t-to marry him! And he cheated!"
It felt like the carpet had just been yanked out from under Dan's feet. His heart ached in sympathy for Phil.
Fuck, they were going to get married and this James guy cheated? That's fucking horrible.
Some of the people waiting for drinks were casting glances in Phil's direction, and Dan wanted to scream at them to mind their own business. Moreso, he wanted to drop everything and wrap Phil up in a hug.
"Phil," Dan said desperately, throwing together a handful of shots in seconds, "I know it may not seem like it but this James guy is an arse. You didn't deserve to get cheated on, not at all. You deserve better than him." Dan looked over his shoulder, wanting to see if any of his hasty words made it through to him, but Phil's barstool was empty, and minus the empty cocktail glass, there was no evidence that Phil had even been there.
~~~~~
Phil didn't show up again for almost two weeks.
Dan would have liked to say that on the nights he worked the bar during those two weeks he didn't keep a constant eye out for the man with the sad eyes and hunched stature, but it would have been one of the worst lies he'd ever told.
When Phil did show on a lonely Tuesday night, Dan didn't know if he should be excited or not. On one hand, Phil finding his way back into Dan's bar meant that Phil still, on some level, wanted to be around Dan (or the drinks he made, Dan's subconsciousness helpfully provided. Dan told his subconsciousness to shut up). On the other hand, it could easily mean that Phil had just slipped far enough in his sorrow that he once again needed the company of alcohol, and the thought made Dan's heart throb in shared sorrow.
But as Phil flashed Dan a smile, the edges of his shy-blue eyes crinkling, Dan was hopeless to the grin that spread over his features as a result.
"Hey."
"Hey back. How's the world of Dan...what's your last name?"
Dan raised his eyebrow a little, but still responded. "Howell."
"Great. How's the world of Dan Howell, then?"
Dan snorted and shook his head, but the smile on his face didn't falter with Phil's quirk.
"Not bad. Today's kind of empty, so I've had more time to relax than normal." Dan pulled up his stool, sitting on his side of the bar, directly across from Phil. "How's the world of Phil?" Phil pouted, and it really shouldn't have been as adorable as it was.
"You aren't going to ask my last name?"
"I was counting on the fact that you'd tell me."
"Ugh, I can't believe I'm already the only one holding up this whole relationship." Phil whined. Dan didn't really say anything, but the word relationship threw him for a loop. It bounced around in his skull, making his thoughts sizzle to a stop for a moment before they limped back into place. Phil, however, being himself, didn't notice Dan's half a second reboot and just kept going.
"Anyways, since you won't ask, I'll tell you." Phil leaned forward, easily catching Dan's gaze. And fuck, this man shouldn't have this much power over him. "It's Lester. Philip Michael Lester," he said. Dan's attention didn't leave Phil's unearthly blue eyes, but he was all too aware at how Phil's lips were moving.
God, he needed to keep his shit together.
Dan hummed in response and swallowed, holding what was left of himself together with what seemed like only his bare hands.
Phil waited another moment before he pouted again, stronger this time.
"Dan! Ask me!"
"Ask you what?"
"You know!"
Dan leaned forward on the counter, and devilishly decided to give Phil a taste of his own medicine. However, Dan wasn't as effortlessly angelic like Phil, so he put in the work. He brought his chin down onto his hand and looked up through his lashes, making sure to soften his gaze. Dan let his shoulders relax and gave his head a little tilt, stretching his neck.
"Fine, how's the world of Philip Michael Lester?" he purred. It was obvious he was flirting. Obvious.
Phil's eyes widened, and Dan was close enough to hear the breath catch in his throat. He saw the way Phil's gaze drunk in everything Dan was offering.
And then Phil looked away, shattering the moment and bringing the reality of what Dan just did crashing down. He tried to hit on a guy who was dealing with a horrible break-up with the love of his life. God, Dan was so fucking stupid, and callous, and cruel—
"You, know, it's honestly going really, really good," Phil said, bringing Dan back to the present. Phil's gaze came back, and Dan was relieved beyond belief at it's warmth. He pulled himself back and schooled his emotions—not to mention getting himself in check.
(Dan ignored the flicker of disappointment that he swore danced across Phil's features. It was nothing but Dan projecting his own interests on the poor man.)
A couple walked up to the bar, looking expectantly at Dan, who stood as soon as they approached. He turned to Phil.
"Can I get you something to drink?"
Phil smiled a little, resting his head on his palm like Dan had just been doing before. His posture was remarkably the same, but fuck with the dancing lights of the club floor highlighting his features and the downright ease at which he commanded all of Dan's attention, it was so much better than what Dan could ever pull off.
But once Dan felt his heart tug at his ribcage, he knew that he didn't really care if Phil was more attractive than him.
"Yeah," Phil said, his voice soft but still reaching Dan's ears effortlessly, "I'd like something light. I really want to remember tonight."
~~~~~
Maybe if Dan wasn't so drunk on Phil's company, he would have thought about how well they got along with each other was too good for reality. How easy it was for their friendship to click would have given Dan pause in any other frame of mind because all of his relationships with people were carefully cultivated after dozens and dozens of hours at the very least. But with Phil, Dan doubted that he could count all of the hours they had spent together on two hands. Yet, as Dan laughed at Phil's stupid jokes and their banter played off of each other effortlessly, it was easy to fall into the feeling that they had known each other for longer than reality.
Yet…
Dan wasn't paying any of that to mind.
No, right now, he was so immersed in Phil's slightly-tipsy attention that it seemed nothing but normal.
It was late—nearing three in the morning—and Phil had only had two weak drinks, good on his word. The whole night they hadn't stopped talking once. Even as Dan was mixing drinks for customers or taking orders, he was still listening intently to Phil ramble, or refusing to stop his little sarcastic interjections just because he had to do his job.
By the time Dan was nearing having to close up the club, he honestly felt that he knew Phil as well as other friends he had, if not better. No topic seemed off the table tonight, and yeah, Dan strayed away from asking stupid questions that would have obviously crossed a line or upset Phil. However they still bounced so freely from topic to topic that Dan felt he could name a thousand new things about this man who kept coming into his bar.
Video game interests, music, professions, where the hell they wanted to end up in life, what made them happy, the stars, a whole half an hour of Dan monologues about candles, different tragedies they've endured...and so much more.
The entire thing was insane. And good. It made Dan smile giddy and forget that he was a wreck.
And a hour later, as Dan wiped away the stickiness of dried alcohol on the many tables in the bar, he was left in what he could best describe as a state of awe. Never had one of his shifts passed that fast, and never has he ever enjoyed himself so much in one.
In his back pocket, Dan's phone vibrated. He slipped it out, and even though he had his assumptions as to who was texting him this early in the morning, the confirmation still made him grin wide enough to hurt.
>> From: Phil I expect you to finish that story about your piano teacher next time im there kay you left me on a cliffhanger, mate
He clicked back a quick-witted reply and pocketed his phone, continuing to clean up with a smile on his face. In the pocket of his jeans, Dan could swear that the plastic of his case was still warm from where Phil had touched it earlier—giving Dan the precious gift of instant communication to who was quickly becoming one of his favorite people—before waltzing right out of Dan's club doors, a bounce in his step and a swing in his hips.
~~~~~
>> From: Phil psst….
>> To: Phil psst
>> From: Phil work is super boring :(
>> To: Phil u were the one to pick a publisher as a prof. mate
>> From: Phil :(
I expected some sympathy and maybe a "phil you brave soul I'll come save you"
>> To: Phil *insert eyeroll*
Im in the middle of tesco and ur at work I cant just "save" u
>> From: Phil youre not going to try?
>> To: Phil whats in it for me?
>> From: Phil my time? my presence? my charming good looks? my humor??? me???
>> To: Phil ur not full of yourself at all huh
>> From: Phil :(
I need a new best friend *you* wont even rescue me :(((
~~~~~
>> From: Phil dan its 3am get off twitter
>> To: Phil phil its 3am get off ur phone
>> From: Phil dannnnnn
>> To: Phil :p
>> From: Phil come on you need sleepppp
>> To: Phil I could say the same for u
besides
staying up late is my job if anything this is training for work
>> From: Phil >:(
>> To: Phil why r u up anyways?
>> From: Phil I cant sleep
>> To: Phil James?
>> From: Phil … … yeah...
>> To: Phil dont apologize for ur feelings phil
…
idk if ur tired or not but do u want to watch a movie?
I mean
we would obvs watch it separately but we can text through it like we're sitting next to each other
…
that way ur mind can be off of James and we can keep each other company?
…
…
we dont have to
>> From: Phil that sounds pretty perfect
~~~~~
Over the following month, Dan and Phil spent an absurd amount of time texting each other. In the beginning, things were a little awkward with neither man knowing how to really proceed, but a week after Phil first typed in his number into Dan's phone and another in-person visit from Phil, things between them flowed. Not a day went by without at least a single conversation, even if it was nothing more than a dumb pun. Dan wasn't completely sure how Phil was faring with the new dependency on each other, but Dan knew that he had accidentally neglected a handful of customers this week because he had been typing out something to send to Phil.
And...the thing was...Dan was happy.
Now, it wasn't as if he had been upset with his life before per se, but more of like he had been merely content with it. He didn't jump out of bed, excited for the day, but he also didn't dread the thought of waking up again. Peculiarly, Dan found himself rolling over and checking his phone for a notification from Phil before he had even really woken up yet, already searching for that spark between them. He found himself smiling more, and more genuinely.
It was a good change.
Dan laced his fingers together above his head, stretching with a yawn. It was the early morning—around three—and he was tired. He couldn't wait to close up, text a sleeping Phil a story about one of the drunks tonight, and fall asleep.
When he spotted a familiar black head of hair, he frowned.
It was unbelievably late, not to mention that Dan knew that Phil had work tomorrow—what the hell was Phil doing awake, and hell, here?
Dan watched as Phil made his way through the crowd, and Dan's heart sank as the apparent reason why Phil had decided to show tonight made itself known.
He was disheveled, a large frown on his face, and a slump to his shoulders. His skin was paler than normal, yet there was still a flush dusting his cheeks, and Dan knew without a doubt that it was from alcohol.
Dan's heart throbbed painfully as he watched Phil stumble onto one of the barstools.
Dan stepped forward and automatically tried to reach out to offer Phil comfort, but the near complete lack of recognition startled him, making him suck in a breath. Could Phil have really forgotten him after some drinks? Dan had thought that their friendship had been worth more to the man.
He tried to get the thoughts out of his head. His hurt feelings didn't really matter right now. What mattered was that Phil was seemingly self-destructing. God Phil, how much alcohol did you have already?
"I wa't a vodka." Phil slurred, a spark finally lighting behind his eyes. "Dan!" He said, sounding cheery for a moment before his sour mood returned. "I 'eed a drink."
"Phil," Dan started, stepping as close as he could with the bar separating them, "how much did you drink before? You're already smashed I don't—Phil, no-!"
Phil frowned harder and tried to get up, the motion near unsuccessful on his uncoordinated and drink-heavy legs. Dan immediately lunged over the bar, grabbing Phil's sleeve and pulling him back onto the stool. He worked with drunks, so it was easy for Dan to tell that upon standing, Phil had more of a chance flying than trying to walk out the door. He most likely would pass out at this point.
"Look," Dan sighed, frantically thinking of a way to keep Phil here, "I'll get you a drink, okay? I'll get you one. Just...just don't leave."
Dan filled a shot glass almost all the way with water. He then threw in a dash of vodka—just enough to get the general taste of it. Phil was too far gone to tell that he was being tricked, but Dan wanted to make sure that the vague flavor of vodka would reach Phil's taste buds just in case Phil was a particularly adept drunk.
He set the glass down in front of Phil, and immediately Phil threw it back, holding it out in an unsteady hand for another. Dan compiled, however this time didn't put any vodka in, just water. He mimed pouring vodka in the glass with his back turned, put the unused bottle of vodka back, and gave it to Phil. Dan paid close attention to Phil as he drank it, but he showed no sign of knowing what he was drinking.
The last hour of Dan's shift followed a similar pattern—he gave Phil as many shots as he wanted, all of them water. Phil didn't say anything, didn't really show much evidence that he was comprehending where he was, and what he was doing, minus the occasional grunt to get Dan's attention for another drink.
The whole thing worried Dan to bits.
By the time Al was making his rounds, ensuring that all of the people had left, Dan had to stop him from tossing Phil out onto the streets.
"No!" Dan had said, panicked, almost dropping the bottles of alcohol he was restacking, "He's a friend, Al. I'll take care of him, promise."
It took a few tries to get Al to believe that Phil wasn't going to be a problem for Dan, but he eventually nodded, telling Dan to call him if he needed anything and walking out, his job done for the night.
Dan sped through the rest of the clean up, and sooner than expected he was standing outside of the locked bar, Phil half asleep and leaning all of his weight onto Dan who was desperately trying to hold him up. Dan paused for a moment, at a loss. He didn't know where Phil lived, let alone have a key to Phil's place, and wasn't sure if Phil could make it a whole night by himself in the state he was in—the last thing either of them needed was blackout-drunk Phil to accidentally hurt himself or decide to take a midnight stroll.
He glanced at the sleepy man in his arms and tapped his foot, weighing his options before letting out a huff and slipping his arm around Phil's waist, starting off down the block where Dan had parked his car. Phil tried to help, but he could barely get a step in with how uncoordinated his legs were. In circumstances other than trying to carry another man nearly as tall as him, Dan might have laughed, but Phil was heavy.
Through a lot of stumbling and a dozen almost-falls, they made it, and Dan was just barely able to get Phil into the passenger seat after ten minutes of Phil trying to move his unresponsive limbs in an effort to help, and Dan trying to stop him because it was only making things worse. By the time Dan buckled himself in and started the car, he was breathing heavily as if he'd ran the whole way to his car.
Getting Phil up to the floor of Dan's flat was simple enough due to the elevator, but getting him past the door was horrid. Phil was asleep and complete dead weight in Dan's arms, and Dan had to drag him through, nearly hitting his head on the doorframe by accident.
Once inside the flat, Dan didn't really make it very far. He rolled Phil onto the couch and collapsed onto the floor, his breathing labored. Did he sometimes have to lift heavy things while working at a bar? Sure, but that was nothing compared to an unconscious Phil.
Dan caught his breath and pulled himself back up on his feet—he couldn't rest yet. Dan removed Phil's glasses and rolled Phil onto his right side so he was facing away from the back of the couch. He then put the little trash can that he had had in his bedroom on the floor in line with Phil's head; that way if he threw up he would hopefully do it in that and not on Dan's floor. Once Dan was certain that Phil would be fine by himself for a little, Dan retreated into his bedroom and stripped himself of his bar uniform, putting on a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt. He thought about bringing something in with him to change Phil into so he wasn't sleeping in jeans, but decided against it—there was no way to know if Phil was comfortable with Dan doing that, and Phil's possible inability to sleep well with jeans was irrelevant when he was unconscious and drunk off his ass.
Dan threw his dirty clothes into the hamper, brushed his teeth, and pulled the duvet and the pillows on his bed off, piling them on the floor in the lounge next to the couch. He went right back to his room and pulled one of his fluffiest blankets out of his closet.
Once he was back in the lounge, he let the blanket fall so he could pick up the duvet and then draped it over Phil, tucking in the corners to keep him warm. Dan slid a pillow under Phil's head and pushed the coffee table away to make room for himself before caccooning his body in the blanket on the floor, facing Phil.
It wasn't the most comfortable of sleeping positions and his back would probably hurt tomorrow, but there was no way in hell that Dan was going to let Phil alone by himself.
It was a while before Dan's mind quieted enough for his eyes to drift closed, but the last thing he saw was Phil's peaceful face, lulled to sleep.
~~~~~
The night turned out to be more eventful than he had hoped, but no less than he had planned for, and Dan was glad that the day before he had had a good night's rest because his sleep turned out to be interrupted at best.
Phil threw up twice, and Dan both times Dan thanked his past self for putting the trash can down.
Phil hadn't been properly conscious for the first time, and it had taken Dan a half an hour to clean up a sleepy Phil and help him brush his teeth with a spare toothbrush Dan had found crammed under his sink. By the second time, Phil had sobered up a little (mainly because he had vomited up a large portion of the alcohol he had ingested). He had reached down, clutching at Dan's upper arm with one hand and the other yanking the trash can as close as he could get it. That time, Dan was awake in time to rub Phil's back and card his fingers through his hair, soothing him as he retched. Both times, while Phil went to sleep quickly afterwards, but Dan couldn't fathom another minute of sleep for at least an hour after. His focus was pinpointed onto the man on his couch and utterly convinced that Phil would need him even if Dan shut his eyes for a moment. Dan wasn't sure what the time was when he managed sleep, but grey morning light was already seeping into the apartment by the time his exhaustion had settled over him.
Dan roused close to ten in the morning, eyes heavy and body sore. His eyes fell immediately onto Phil who was still sleeping, his face peaceful and tranquil in unconsciousness. He watched Phil from his makeshift bed on the floor for a few minutes—was that creepy? Too much? If Phil was up would he be freaked out by Dan's stare?
The thought made Dan's eyes slowly shift away from Phil's pale skin. He ended up crawling out from under his blanket and finding his way into his kitchen where he had a bowl of cereal, rubbing at his eyes frequently. Since Phil undoubtedly needed his rest and was still sleeping soundly, Dan decided to just let Phil get up by himself.
Dan made his way to the shower, where he spent at least fifteen minutes on the floor of the tub, letting the hot water hit his curled up frame. It soothed the muscles in his body, acting like a balm to his overactive thoughts. All of which were about the man laid on his couch and the way his shoulders sagged with pain, the curl of his smile, and the starbursts in his eyes.
Dan didn't understand how there was someone out there who could give up a man like Phil, let alone cheat on him.
When he emerged from the bathroom, steam curling from the doorframe and his curls towel-dried on his head, Phil had switched positions. Instead of laying on his side like he had been all night, Phil was on his back, head turned to the junction connecting the armrest to the back of the couch. His mouth was parted and his eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones, likely from a dream he was currently experiencing.
It should be illegal for someone to look that good sleeping, Dan thought, his feet pulling him closer on instinct until Dan was sitting on the floor with his back pressed up against the sofa and the blanket he had been using all night curled around his body.
He felt uncomfortable continuing to stare at Phil with the innate knowledge of his own personal attraction to the man and knowing how much Phil was falling apart with this breakup, so Dan pulled his ultimate social crutch out—his phone. With pink-dusted cheeks, Dan pulled up the first app his fingers found, and soon enough, he was forgetting all about last night and this morning.
When Phil stirred however, Dan's attention immediately snapped to him.
Phil was now in a similar position that he had been all night, rubbing at his eyes and yawning widely.
"Phil?" Dan asked, putting his phone onto the coffee table and scooting closer to where Phil's head was. Phil just looked up at him, eyes sleepy and expression tired.
"Dan?"
"Yeah. Do you remember last night?"
"Hmm? No, I don't think so…" Phil paused, his eyes falling to the duvet he was snuggled in, cold realization settling into his posture, "I got drunk, didn't I? My head certainly feels like I did" He asked in a small voice. Dan gave him a pained smile that he meant to be reassuring, but Dan had a feeling that it wasn't in the slightest. He picked up Phil's glasses from where he had discarded them when they had first gotten home and gave them to Phil, their hands brushing more than Dan was certain was necessary.
"You were absolutely smashed before you even showed up at my bar."
Phil groaned and covered his face with his hands, sighing so deeply that it sounded pained.
"God, I'm sorry."
"Phil…"
"I promised myself I was going to stop drinking my feelings away. Look how well that turned out," Phil said bitterly, frowning heavily. His eyes were wet, looking ready to cry. Dan wrapped his fingers around Phil's wrist to get his attention, not even thinking about the action.
"Phil, you've been through a lot, and you aren't dealing with it very healthily, but acknowledging that is the first five steps to moving past that."
Phil didn't look convinced, his gaze sliding back down to the blanket, shame and remorse in his eyes. Dan squeezed his wrist, willing Phil to still pay attention to him.
"You seemed to be doing really good with managing the want to get drunk for a while there, and I know that relapses are a very possible thing, but I think you should just do what you were doing before, you know? You seemed really happy when I saw you, and even texting you were so much more joyful than when we had first met. You were doing really good, and I think you can keep doing really good."
At this point, Phil's attention was back on the blanket.
"That...that's harder than it sounds. What I was doing...I don't know if I can keep doing it."
"God, Phil, were you on drugs?"
"No!" Phil gasped, looking up in shock.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Dan, I'm sure. I just...I don't really know how to explain it, but you know how sometimes you find something new, and it like, fills a hole in you that you didn't know existed? It's like that, but it just...scares me I guess. Because I don't know how to handle it? I didn't even know that I needed it until I had it but now I try to picture myself without this new...thing and I can't. And I don't know what to do, because I'm not supposed to feel like this."
"Who says you're not supposed to feel the way you do, Phil? You can't pick and choose what you feel—the heart doesn't work like that. It's like how you're hurting because of James and what he did to you; you don't have a choice in the matter of the pain or joy you feel, and you can't selectively mute the negative without obstructing the positive." There were tears in Phil's eyes, a few fat drops slipping out and sliding down his cheeks. "And," Dan said, wiping away Phil's tears with his hand, "I think that if that thing—whatever it is—makes you happy, it's worth a little bit of terror. You don't deserve to make yourself suffer more just by denying your feelings, Phil."
Phil was full on crying now, and the tears were flowing faster than Dan could wipe them away. But before he could disentangle himself just long enough to conjure up a box of tissues, Phil tugged Dan forward into a hug. Phil broke down, sobbing into Dan's shoulder, blubbering about James and how lost he felt and the guilt he had. It all just...tumbled out, and Dan wasn't sure if Phil even meant to be spilling everything, but Dan had a feeling that these were tears and emotions that Phil had never let himself have.
Sure, Phil had mourned the future he had lost, but had he let himself mourn the pain he was feeling? All of the trust he had lost as a result? All of the misery he had endured? Dan didn't think so, and the thought broke him.
And as Phil cried into his shirt, Dan just held him tighter.
~~~~~
Hours later, Dan was having more fun than he had had in the company of another person in a long time.
He and Phil were nestled together on the couch with blankets piled on top of them, cocooning them together. Phil had showered and called out sick for work for the day after managing breakfast and, at Dan's insistence, two big glasses of water to make up for the alcohol-induced dehydration he had endured last night. And as it was, neither of them wanted Phil to get back into his dirty clothes, so Dan let Phil borrow some of his and told Phil that he'd wash them. And when Phil had first emerged from the bathroom in one of Dan's soft jumpers, a pair of joggers clinging to his hips, Dan had cursed under his breath, instantly knowing that letting such an attractive man wear his clothes was a mistake.
Thankfully, Phil hadn't seemed to notice.
What either of them had also seemed to have failed to notice, was that Phil wasn't technically supposed to be in Dan's flat.
At first, it was 'oh, your clothes are still in the washer'.
Then it turned into 'well we might as well have lunch while you're here'.
Then it was 'hey Dan you have Mario Kart? I didn't know that—can we play?'
And now, well, now it evolved into zero space between them, Dan's heart seizing in his chest as they watched Wonder Woman together on Dan's couch.
Phil inhaled deeply as on the screen Diana ignored Steve's protests and ran across the battlefield, her shield in front of her.
"Oh my god," Phil breathed, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, his eyes wide. Dan, for his part, was happy that he had seen the movie already, because with Phil pressed to his side in his own clothes, he wasn't paying it any attention. The rest of the movie passed in a similar manner, and soon enough the credits were rolling and Phil was crying from the ending, still clutching onto Dan's arm where he had latched onto when the tension was running through the roof earlier.
"That was horrible! They deserved to stay together! How are you not crying?" Phil cried, looking at the credits still as if they would fade into a "jk lol that's not the real ending".
"Phil, I can't really change the ending of a movie. Also, maybe because I've seen it before?" Dan replied helplessly. He didn't really cry after movies. Phil just sniffled and wiped away the few tears that had leaked out of his eyes.
"I need a pick-me-up after that. Did you want to watch another movie? Though I have to put in a request for something that won't make me cry like a baby."
Dan looked at the clock in the lounge and frowned, disappointment settling heavily in his ribcage.
"We don't have time for another movie since I'm going to have to get to work soon," Dan started, and Phil's face fell, but Dan nearly tripped over himself trying to fix it, "but I can do pizza? That's enough of a pick-me-up, right?"
"Are you sure? I can leave, god, I didn't even ask if I could stay-"
"Phil," Dan interrupted, knowing where that train of thought was going and needing to stop it immediately, "you're fine, I promise. Today's been really fun and I'm glad you're here. C'mon, let's order pizza."
Dan watched as the frown that had been forming on Phil's face flipped instantly into a blinding smile, and he'd have been lying if he didn't say that the sight made the edges of everything glow as well.
And even hours later, when Dan was at the bar serving drinks to people, he couldn't stop the smile on his face—not when he was riding on the high of spending the day with Phil combined with Phil currently blowing up his phone with "I miss you" texts.
~~~~~
The golden feeling didn't even last a week this time though.
Things had been going insanely well. Dan and Phil had spent the next day—Dan's day off—together. Phil had called out of work once again, insisting that he made more than enough money and that he didn't need to be worrying about missing another day's pay when Dan protested. This day was one spent out and about, the two of them acting like absolute idiots together, window shopping and having too many snacks from food vendors.
Everything was perfect, and Phil was looking at Dan like that, and Dan wanted the whole day to be the rest of his life, because fuck they were so happy.
But the following night, when Phil stomped into Dan's bar at two in the morning, anger and pain in his eyes, Dan knew that the Phil he had been spending all of his time with recently was gone.
Phil asked for a drink, giving Dan less than a glance. He watched in horror as Phil threw back the shot without pause and asked for something stronger.
And goddamnit, but Dan wasn't working alone tonight, and before he could decide if it was better to confront Phil here and now or tomorrow after letting him get piss-drunk, his coworker had already given Phil what he was asking for and moved onto the next person.
The last two hours of Dan's shift ended up passing in a similar manner. Dan filled some of Phil's orders, trying to talk to Phil about how Dan was worried for him, but Phil would just ignore it. Other times, Dan was legitimately busy with other customers, and his coworker gave Phil the hard liquor he wanted without a second thought.
When Dan was clocking out at four-AM Phil was still there, holding out his glass as he waited for Dan's coworker—who was still working the bar—to fill it. When he saw Dan, he grunted and turned to Dan instead.
"'ere, Dan, 'ou can get th's," Phil slurred, drunk. Dan, who had been quickly put into a terrible mood at Phil drowning himself in alcohol, frowned and the glass out of Phil's hand. He left it on the bar counter with enough money to pay for Phil's tab. He grabbed Phil's arm by the elbow and hauled him up to his feet wordlessly, dragging Phil forcefully out of the bar. By the time they hit the cool night air Phil had recovered enough to protest.
"Dan, wha' the hell are 'ou doing?"
"My shift is done, Phil," he replied evenly, "You're drunk, once again trying to bloody kill yourself with alcohol, and I'm not letting you go home by yourself. That leaves you one option, and that's to come home with me."
It took Phil a few stumbled steps to make sense of what Dan said, but when he did he tried to pull back.
"Wha'? No, 'm going back," he mumbled, but Dan just tightened his grip and walked faster, Phil nearly tripping behind him.
"No, you're not. You're wasted and I'm not going to let you give yourself alcohol poisoning."
They were in Dan's car and speeding away soon enough, Dan's grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles a blotchy white.
Once they were inside Dan's flat he gave Phil his duvet and a pillow, and showed him the couch. When Phil tried to protest Dan gave him a firm "get to sleep, we'll talk in the morning" before he went into his bedroom and changed into something comfortable enough to sleep in. When he got back into the lounge with a blanket for himself, Phil was already unconscious. Dan sighed and started arranging himself on the floor, tired and angry and hurt. He fell asleep quickly, but when he woke up, his exhaustion didn't seem to have been satisfied.
He showered and cleaned up where he had slept by the time Phil started stirring. Dan took another sip from his coffee as Phil stretched, audibly wincing with a hiss of his teeth—it was probably his hangover, and judging at how Phil didn't have a sip of water last night, it was most likely remarkably worse than the last one. After a groan Phil propped himself up, blinking sleepily. His eyes landed on Dan sitting at his kitchen table, coffee in hand. Phil swallowed hard, understanding dawning in his eyes.
"Morning," he said quietly.
"Morning."
"Was I as drunk as last time?" Phil asked after a moment, biting his lip.
"No," Dan replied quietly, "but nearly."
"I'm...I'm so sorry, Dan. You shouldn't have to cart me around and take care of a drunk me. I-"
"Phil, I'm your friend. I don't care if I have to support you and help you when you need it. But I'm not going to just sit by and give you alcohol whenever you want and take you home afterwards. Our friendship is worth more than that." The words made a defensive look cloud Phil's face.
"Didn't you just say that you would support me?"
"Yeah, and I also just said that I wouldn't enable your shitty choices, Phil." Dan bit back, properly angry all over again. Phil's face darkened, the former softness leftover from sleep gone.
"That's great support, Dan, thanks. Well, in case you haven't noticed, I've kind of been trying to handle things, alright? I have a lot of shit to work through. Sorry if a little compassion is too much for you to handle."
"You call drinking until you can't remember the day before handling things?" Dan asked incredulously.
"You call whatever this is supporting me?" Phil cried, his voice raised.
"I'm not going to sit back and watch you become an alcoholic, Phil!" Dan exploded. "And I'm certainly not going to help you become one! So, if you want to keep getting drunk off your ass because you're 'working through things' then you can go to some other bar because I'm not going to let you use me to self destruct! Do you know how many regulars I have at that bar? People with sadder stories than yours, who can't get by without at least a pint in their system at all times. People who are going to be dead by forty from liver failure. Do you want to become one of them?"
Phil was quiet for a moment.
"Do you really think that I'm using you to get drunk? What about two days ago, or the one before that? What about all of the texts?" Phil asked quietly. "You're my friend. You always come first over the alcohol."
"It doesn't always feel like that," Dan said softly, but no less harshly. He wasn't burning with anger anymore. He was tired. He just wanted to cuddle with Phil on the couch, but this was something that they needed to work through.
They both fell silent, unsure what to do, what to say, how to act. Phil sighed.
"It's never an intention. Sometimes it just...hurts to the point where all I can think about is a way to numb it. Sometimes I'm okay, like when we were out the other day together And other times I'm in my flat and I just get so overwhelmed that it hurts too much. I can't deal with it." Phil said, near whispering. His eyes were wet with unshed tears. "All I ever wanted was to be enough for him." Phil breathed, the tears spilling out of his eyes, crashing through the barrier that had been erected between them since the first drop of alcohol had passed Phil's lips last night.
Dan was up and out of his chair faster than he realized, nearly knocking over his coffee. They both pulled each other into the embrace, Phil gasping into Dan's neck through his sobs.
"It's okay, Phil, it's okay," Dan mumbled, clutching at Phil just as much as the other man did him. Dan desperately petted at Phil's hair and rubbed his back to comfort him. He ignored all of the emotions in his chest tangling together and simultaneously trying to force themselves out. Phil was more important right now.
"You're more than enough."
~~~~~
Phil ended up staying for the rest of the day like last time, but everything was just on this side of different. Both of their emotions were swirled together in a jumbled, confusing, unpredictable mess, which made for a few interesting interactions. There were several points in the day where one or both of them started crying due to one thing or another, and even more instances where one of them would snap at the other, sometimes sparking a quick spat before the inevitable rushed and sincere apologies.
Even more importantly, they patched all of the threatening cracks in their friendship and came to a greater understanding of each other. Their relationship was now one more attune to each other and less toxic for the both of them.
Dan pulled the blanket up higher over his body. It was late and the two of them had ended up on the couch, watching an absurd amount of Marvel together. Dan was sure that the blanket had essentially materialized, for he had no memory of Phil getting up to retrieve it and he was certain he hadn't. He wasn't complaining, however. The blanket quite literally softened the atmosphere around them and gave him an excuse to cuddle up to Phil's side.
Hours later, they were in the same spot. Phil however was out cold, his body half-slumped over Dan's, head on his shoulder. Dan didn't mind in the slightest. Phil was an incredibly cute sleeper, and being able to properly hold this wonder of a man was more than enough compensation for being his pillow.
On the screen, the characters were in the middle of the climax of the movie, fighting for their lives. Normally Dan got into scenes like these, but he was too wrapped up in soaking in all of the time with Phil he could get.
Dan knew that when the movie ended he'd have to wake Phil—he had work tomorrow and needed to get back home—but that was something he'd think about when the time came.
Dan watched Phil's eyelids flutter as well as his nose twitch, both by-products of whatever dream Phil was having at the moment. Dan smiled at it, an ache in his chest flaring at the sight of Phil so content. God, he was so whipped for this man.
Dan's hand settled in Phil's soft hair, running his fingers through it as he twisted his body to let Phil lay more comfortably against him. Dan settled back into the couch, letting the warm feeling in his bones seep through his whole body as he cherished the last few minutes he had with Phil before he would leave him.
~~~~~
It became a habit.
Whenever Phil would wind up at Dan's bar he would go home with Dan and stay the night. Even as Phil's self-destructive drinking habit started to shrink, and the need for Dan to make sure he lasted the night no longer became relevant, he still found himself waking up at Dan's the next morning.
A different product of their unspoken arrangement was that Dan's flat slowly became infused with Phil himself. He had a drawer in Dan's bureau, a toothbrush in the bathroom, and a permanent claim on the guest bed. But more than that, there were little reminders of Phil everywhere. A discarded shirt whose original owner had been long forgotten, a knick knack that Dan had no recollection of buying, an extra box of Dan's cereal for the mornings because Phil liked to snack on it and Dan was tired of having to run to Tesco's because he wanted breakfast. It was Phil having a key to the flat, and knowing how Dan made his coffee, and his lanky, relaxed form a regular and comforting presence in Dan's home.
It was so gradual that Dan didn't really notice the change until it had already happened. And by then, there was nothing he could do; Phil was properly rooted into his life and Dan was absolutely powerless to try and remove him.
Of course, Phil was over more than regularly without the assistance of alcohol. They grew awfully close with the sudden co-dependence and the company they provided each other. Dan didn't even want to know how many hours they spent together, nor the insurmountable number of texts they exchanged while they were apart.
Dan had even been around Phil's, but every single time they would gravitate back to Dan's. Phil said it had something to do with the "feel" of Dan's flat, something about energy, but Dan didn't really believe him. Judging from the lack of personalized decor Dan had seen, Phil didn't really spend that much time in his apartment. And knowing what he did, Dan easily knew why Phil tended to avoid his own flat.
Dan just wondered why Phil hadn't changed any of it yet for a fresh start. It had been quite a bit since the breakup, and all of the lingering memories had to hurt.
There was also something growing between them. Dan could see it in the unnecessary brushes of their fingers and the prolonged touch of a hand on the other's shoulder. How much they sought after each other clear as day in their glances and smiles as well. Dan tried to keep his hopes from rising too high out of the ashes—Phil was dealing with a harsh breakup, and there was no telling that Phil would even want to act on feelings (that might not even be there, Dan's anxiety reminded him)—but it was like fighting an uphill battle.
Dan was certain that he would be fine just as friends, but the guy had all but moved in and in the process showed them both what a domestic life together would be like, and it was so good it hurt.
Almost three months after Phil had last gotten properly smashed and broken down, he wandered into Dan's bar at around midnight. Dan hadn't seen him for a while, as odd as it was for them, and Phil coming around to Dan while he was at work had become even more rare.
He couldn't help but notice how good Phil looked with his hair quiffed, sleeves rolled up, the top button of his shirt undone, and his eyes sparkling. Dan was also extremely aware of how shit he himself looked.
"Hey," Phil said as he slid onto one of the barstools.
"Hi, stranger."
Phil grimaced. "I know, I'm sorry. But, the good news is that my department's work for the project is finished, so I should totally be working normal hours now."
"You're not going to leave me all by myself anymore?" Dan asked. He didn't even try to mask his excitement. It was lonely without Phil there to fill the cracks anymore.
"No, now you'll wish you changed the locks on the doors while you had the chance."
Dan laughed, but even to his own ears it sounded a little nervous and a little unsure. There was something glinting in Phil's eyes that Dan hadn't seen before.
"Can I get a drink for you? I doubt you came all this way to tell me that you were done being exploited by your company when you could have said as much through a text."
"Maybe I just wanted to see you." Phil said, leaning on the bar.
"Ha," Dan responded, copying Phil's movements, "don't make me laugh."
Phil leaned in further, close enough that Dan could smell the mint on Phil's breath and see the swirl of color in his eyes. The sudden closeness forced the air in Dan's lungs to freeze, and he was sure he was staring at Phil with wide eyes. Phil's eyebrow crinkled a little, and Dan knew it was because of Dan's self-deprecating comment.
"Would you like me to prove it?" Phil murmured, his voice an octave lower than before and fuck that made a shiver run down Dan's spine and his stomach drop to his toes. If he wasn't supporting himself on the bar Dan was sure his knees would have given out under his weight because jesus christ his legs felt downright weak.
Dan opened his mouth to try and respond, but the words didn't surface right away. He managed some garbled response, but what he even said he couldn't recall. Was it even English? He didn't know, but it made Phil laugh and lean back in the process, and with it their atmosphere from earlier returned—from wherever the hell it had gone, that is.
"I'll just have a beer, if that's alright. Nothing too fancy, please." Phil put enough money on the bar to cover his drink and Dan took it with a moderately shaky hand. He poured Phil one of the good tasting ones that people loved with his mind racing the whole while. Dan didn't know what had gotten into Phil, but he wasn't certain that he could survive a whole night of it, that was for sure.
Dan tried to pull himself together before turning back to Phil. He handed Phil the beer, determined to try to steer them both into a safer dynamic, but Phil reached forward and wrapped his hand around Dan's and the glass in the process. He held them both there for a heartbeat before taking the glass with his other hand, looking Dan in the eyes the whole time with an innocent smirk tugging at his lips.
I'm so fucked.
Phil took a sip of his beer, eyes shining, the whole interaction taking no longer than a few seconds, yet leaving Dan near floundering.
"Thanks."
"Yeah," Dan breathed, willing himself to get it together, damnit, "no problem."
~~~~~
Dan quickly came to the conclusion that Phil Lester was trying to kill him.
For one, the flirting had only increased.
Dramatically.
Dan lost count of how many innuendos Phil made, how many times he could feel or even watch Phil's gaze drag over him, all of the times that a touch lingered longer than strictly necessary.
It was confusing. Distracting. Completely...intoxicating.
He absolutely couldn't get enough.
Early on he gave up on trying to fight whatever game Phil was getting at and started playing along. He'd drop his own flirty lines and bend down a little further than necessary to reach the alcohol under the bar, fully aware of what it was doing to Phil.
They both knew they were in dangerous territory.
Did either of them care?
Dan at least didn't think so.
As people started to file out of the bar—Al herding them to the doors—Dan was incredibly aware of Phil still sitting on his stool, his chin resting in his hand so he could watch Dan as he cleaned up. They didn't talk, but it didn't feel like they needed to. The air around them was charged enough as it was; there was no reason to add fuel to the fire.
When Al was done he called his goodnight to Dan and Phil—who he knew by name at this point—and left.
Dan and Phil weren't alone in the bar for long. Or maybe they were, but Dan just wasn't paying attention to anything other than the presence of Phil.
They were outside before Dan even knew it.
He pocketed the key and turned around, all of his attention on how close Phil was and how the moonlight hit the pitch-black of his hair. For a minute they stood there, stuck by each other's gazes.
But then the spell was broken by Phil slipping his hand into Dan's and tugging him down the sidewalk in the direction of the parking lot that Dan always left his car in.
It was a miracle that Dan didn't suffer a stroke on that walk to his car, and it was even more of a blessing that he didn't crash because everything felt like such a fucking daze.
They'd never done anything like hold hands before, and Dan didn't know how to act, or what to say, or what the hell to even do.
He was completely powerless to whatever Phil had planned, and the shiver of excitement that kept running up Dan's spine made it clear that he wouldn't have it any other way.
Phil had been to Dan's flat so many times and so often that it was easier to count the times that he wasn't. He'd been there sober and piss-drunk and everywhere in between, and they all felt right. They all felt natural. This was no less right, but so much more unnatural. Here Phil was, the least drunk he'd ever been after leaving Dan's bar, standing in Dan's lounge and looking that fucking attractive, and gazing at Dan like he was that fucking attractive.
"Is this okay?" Phil asked, his hand lacing their fingers once again. Dan's mouth was dry and he felt overwhelmed, but he nodded. "How about this?" Phil questioned, his voice softening as he stepped into Dan's space, his spare hand finding its way to Dan's waist. The touch was hot, burning through the fabric of Dan's shirt and warming the skin underneath.
"Yeah."
Phil hummed in response and drifted closer until their faces were close, Phil's breath fanning out over Dan's cheeks.
"And if I kissed you, would that be okay?"
Would it?
That was a question that Dan felt like he knew the answer to, but now that it was being asked, he wasn't so sure.
On one hand, this felt like something that he had been waiting for ever since Phil had first walked into his bar. They had developed a healthy relationship over the months and months of knowing each other, and Dan loved having Phil as his best friend. However, as selfish as it was, he still craved something more. He wanted to know everything about Phil. He wanted to know what it felt like to sleep next to him, to kiss him, to wake up and see Phil right beside him, to spend their time together without worrying about if what they were doing was crossing a line or not. Dan wanted to support Phil and keep him standing when he needed it. He wanted to love him.
However, Dan had a nagging voice in the back of his head asking if this was actually right for them. Phil had been destroyed by his boyfriend cheating on him all those months ago, and he had made tons of progress, but Dan didn't want to be a rebound. He didn't want to be a fuck-buddy or a bit of worthless sex. He deserved better than any of that. He didn't deserve the heartbreak that would come with any of those options.
If this was going to happen between them, he wanted it to be real because these feelings in his chest were real.
Dan looked up, ready to push Phil gently away and whisper no, but he found that he couldn't because the look in Phil's blue eyes was the same one Dan saw in the mirror.
Dan didn't know if this was what was right for them. He didn't know what he should be doing, and he certainly didn't know if this would make or break them. But what he did know, what he was sure of, was that there was no more denying this thing between them; Phil wanted this just as much as he did.
"Yes."
Phil grinned before closing the distance between them and crowding Dan's space. Too many sensations were running through Dan's head for him to make sense of them all, but that didn't stop him from trying. He caught snippets of the feeling of Phil's lips, the heat of his body close to Dan's, the warmth of Phil's hand on Dan's hip, the texture of Phil's shirt under Dan's fingertips, and so many more.
He was incredibly sure however, that this was right.
All of the worries he had had about this thing between them were dissolving into bliss—how could he have ever doubted Phil when he was holding onto Dan like he was something precious?
Dan let his hands move from where they had been clutching at Phil's clothes to cup the sides of his face and pull him closer. That's all that Dan wanted right now—to be as close as they could.
The action brought a groan tumbling from Phil's mouth, the sound muffled from between their lips. Fuck, that was hot.
Phil's hands on his hips drifted a bit, the tips of his fingers pulling the fabric of Dan's work shirt from where it was tucked into his jeans and sliding underneath. It made Dan's mouth drop open a little, something that Phil took full advantage of. He coaxed Dan's mouth open the rest of the way and Dan let himself be utterly swept away at how good of a kisser Phil was.
"Come here," Phil murmured, pulling Dan backwards to the sofa. Dan just followed, his mouth seeking out Phil's.
Phil giggled at his antics and pushed Dan onto the couch. Dan let himself fall. Phil stood over him for a moment, just looking at Dan. The attention made Dan's heart race in a very good way, and he held his arms out, inviting Phil to join him. He readily went, their bodies slotting together in a delicious way. The weight of Phil on top of him was better than Dan could have imagined, and he let Phil steal his breath away with more kisses, their hands dancing across the skin of each other's sides.
"I'm going to tell you a secret, Daniel," Phil whispered as he kissed down Dan's neck. He sucked a deep hickey into the skin there which made Dan moan and buck his hips. Dan felt Phil's smirk.
"I've been waiting for this for..I don't even know how long at this point. You're so sweet, and caring, and attractive that you make me question my vendetta against love." Phil rocked his hips against Dan's, their clothed cocks brushing together. It made Dan gasp and let his head fall back. Coincidentally, it also exposed his neck completely for Phil. A hand slipped into Dan's curls and tugged with enough force that Dan's head craned back all the way. At the same time Phil brought his mouth to Dan's pulse point and sucked.
Dan moaned, a loud, proper one that had Phil groaning in response and pushing their hips together again. Dan's eyelids fluttered as the stimulus crashed over him in waves, and all he could do was desperately rock his hips in time with Phil and clutch at his shirt like it was his lifeline.
"Dan," Phil gasped, sounding just as wrecked as Dan, "I need to know how far you want to take this. I'll stop if you want, but I just—fuck!—need you to tell me how much of you I can have."
They were both rutting against each other, panting and sweaty and needy. Dan shook his head, trying to breathe in enough oxygen to actually articulate the half-baked thoughts running around his skull.
"All of me," Dan moaned, the words tumbling out, "you can have all of me, please."
Phil's hands gave up their timidness at Dan's words and pushed his shirt up and over Dan's head. The rest of Phil's body slid down so he could kiss up and down Dan's chest, swirling his tongue around his nipples.
"Good."
~~~~~
In hindsight, Dan might have been right to worry about things going too fast.
The next morning Dan had woken up first, his body tangled with Phil's in bed. He had also been quite sore—a bit of knowledge that made flashes of Phil above him and thrusting deep surface whenever he blinked his eyelids.
Dan blushed a little as he thought about how much they had properly wrecked each other in Dan's bed last night.
When Phil had woken up however, all of Dan's hopes for a soft and loving morning were dashed away when Phil took one look at Dan in his arms and panicked.
It took a bit for Dan to properly calm Phil down, and when he did Phil scooted far away from him on the bed. It broke Dan's heart, but he was more concerned with how Phil was feeling to address his own emotions.
Phil ended up confessing that he wasn't sure if he was ready for a relationship yet, but he wanted one with Dan all the same. He cried when he told Dan how much he couldn't stand another heartbreak like the one he'd had with James, and Dan could only hold him while he let all of his fears out.
After a few tentative hugs and a long conversation of establishing what they both wanted and figuring out boundaries, they decided to try.
They took things ridiculously slow at first, and only attempted cuddling for the first few weeks. Eventually they branched into soft, loving kisses when Phil felt ready, and stayed content like that for a while. Dan let Phil lead them into more flirty territories, and it was Phil who first instigated their first make-out session as boyfriends. They had been dating for about six months before they had sex again, but this time they were both completely sober and it was more like making love then fucking.
Dan was more than happy to watch as Phil slowly got more and more comfortable with him in a romantic sense and showered Phil in as much love and care as he could.
Phil also gave up drinking as soon as they had started dating, which was something Dan was so proud of Phil for doing. Permanently sober Phil was Dan's favorite Phil, that was for sure.
And even if their start was a little rocky they found their stride, and now they'd been dating for close to two years. They had their own apartment, and even with Dan's night shifts they found regular time to be together. Sometimes Phil would find his way to Dan's bar when he wasn't satisfied with their time together at dinner, and he would drink water or a soda and keep Dan company during his shift. Other times he would text Dan mercilessly no matter how many times Dan fondly told him that it was busy. Dan for his part would keep up with Phil while he was at the office, and had a bad habit of completely blowing up his phone when he was in an important meeting.
Neither or them would have it any other way.
Dan yawned and stripped himself of his work clothes in the dark. He had had to cover his shift for an extra hour because one of the other workers' car had broke down while they were on their way to relieve Dan, and he was dead on his feet. Dan flopped onto the bed and wrestled some of the sheets from Phil's sleeping grasp. He turned to his side and let his eyelids droop, but not before noticing Phil's arm snaking around his waist to pull him close. Dan smiled despite his exhaustion and snuggled close. Phil sighed in approval in his sleep and Dan giggled softly. He laced his fingers with Phil's and let his body relax into the mattress, content.
He really wouldn't have it any other way.
