Missing Him
Summary: Norman passed on to fish heaven awhile ago. It doesn’t mean they can’t still miss him.
Word Count: 990
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Discussions of death
A/N: Second fic! Hope you guys enjoy-I’d love to hear any feedback any of you have!
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Phil usually could get lost in his work pretty easily.
It was a blessing for someone with a job like his, really. It was great on airplanes, or when they had a tough deadline, or when he didn’t exactly want to focus on something more unpleasant.
Dan was always nagging him about that last one. You can’t just edit away what’s going on. He’d scold gently as he’d pull his laptop off his lap, going full-therapist on him. And if you don’t deal with it now, it’s bound to come back to you.
He was right, of course. As much as Phil could roll his eyes playfully and begrudgingly let Dan lead him through whatever breathing exercise he was trying at the moment, it did feel good to let go of that energy properly instead of just shoving it aside. But with an ever-growing list of “to-do”s-packing boxes, talking with the builders, planning Stereo shows, focusing on merch designs-it was easier today to push it aside and focus on methodically editing to get lost in.
It’s not working today, though. Dan hasn’t come out of his room, and when he hears some soft noise coming from the other side of the wall during a quick pause, he finds himself pausing to listen to the noise.
He can barely hear it, but he’s sure can make out both of their voices, and so he carefully sets his laptop down and makes his way to the other’s room. When he opens the door just a bit and peeks in, he can’t help but let out a silent sigh.
Dan’s got his back to him, huddled up as he stares at his screen, where Norman flicks back and forth, both of their voices softly discussing their fish on their livestream the previous year. As Phil hears a soft sniffle come from the huddled figure, he shakes his head and walks over.
“You miss him, don’t you?” He murmured, wrapping his arms around Dan’s shoulders. As Dan jolts, Phil sits next to him, holding him close.
“He’s-he was just a fish.” Dan mumbles, closing the laptop. “It’s all...stupid.” Phil hums, stroking Dan’s hair slowly. He’s more accustomed to loss in this way-from losing family, to his friend at Uni, to watching his Dad get so close to the edge in his sickness-the pain still hurts, but it’s more familiar than it is to Dan. It’s why Dan can joke about it so easily, while Phil just quickly changes the subject to immortality and futuristic robot bodies.
“It’s not stupid if you’re caring so much,” Phil said gently. “He was important to us. So it’s okay to miss him.” Dan shrugged gently, curling up a bit more as he opened the laptop again, staring at the still of Norman. After a minute he speaks again.
“I keep having dreams about him. And then I wake up, and I want to check on him, and then I remember. And it’s like you just texted me about it, all over again.” Phil nods. He had been silently grateful he had been the one to find Norman while Dan was out on a walk, texting Dan after he had found a little box to put him in before meeting Dan at a park and properly burying him.
Dan had rolled his eyes a bit as he stood guard, making sure nobody could see the grown man digging at the ground with the random spade from under his bed. Phil knew, though, Dan would be grateful by some point that they had a proper burial instead of just dumping him down the toilet.
“He wasn’t even a real pet.” Dan continues, his voice wobbling a bit as he gets louder. “I mean, it’s not like he was a dog or something. That would make sense. But I’m this sad over a stupid fish?!”
Phil pressed his nose to Dan’s hair. The words stung slightly, but he knew Dan’s anger wasn’t genuine.
“You’re sad because you loved him. Even if he wasn’t a typical fish. He was a sign of-of us, looking after another life for the first time.” Dan looks at him for the first time, eyes rimmed red as he kept going.
“He helped make this place home, too. And he was always there. Losing that stability isn’t easy, especially right now.” Phil isn’t great at introspection-he bottles it up until it all gets too much, and then it comes out all messy and mixed-up and it takes ages just to make it make some sort of sense. Usually, it’s enough to just be an ear for Dan and a reassuring voice that it’s okay, we’re okay, you’re okay. It feels almost alien to hear his own voice define his thoughts so outright. He’s about to walk it back when he feels Dan snuggle a bit closer, silently affirming that he got it right.
“Do you miss him?” Dan whispered finally.
“You know I do. But we’ll always have memories of him. And he’s not going to be the last pet of ours, even if I have to get shots to deal with fur or we have to find a way to keep our eyes on them all the time.” Dan laughed weakly, moving his arms around Phil’s in return. “Are we emotionally ready for that?” He joked gently as Phi snorted.
“Probably not. But Mar says you’re never really ready to become parents, anyways.” He teased, nudging him lightly.
“Martyn wanted to name her Excelsior, I’m not sure if we should take parenting advice from him.”
“It’s a cool name!” Phil grinned. “Maybe our next pet will be Excelsior. In honor.” As Dan rolled his eyes and laughed as Phil started coming up with equally stupid names, Phil felt himself relax a little bit.
Maybe Phil wasn’t the greatest at sharing his feelings. But it was good to know he could get it right sometimes.