Your Worst Nightmare
Summary: Dan can’t sleep--he never can. And it’s thanks to the demon under his bed.
TW: uhhh scary demon shit. idk when @mangothatismelancholy was reading it she was legitimately scared so idkkk
Genre: angst
Word Count: 5k
(here’s a drawing @societyshottheunicorns01 made!)
(and a drawing @haleykinz made!)
--
Dan saw it for the first time when he was nine.
As a kid he’d often been plagued with trouble sleeping; woken by nightmares; unable to fall asleep due to unease. Eventually he’d even stopped trying to sleep at all, instead sitting in his bed against the corner of the wall, a tower of blankets and pillows surrounding and piled against him. He would sit like that with all the lights on and try to evade sleep, would try to keep it from taking him into its clutches and pulling him down, down, down.
Of course, he hadn’t known why, at the time. He’d just thought that there was something wrong with him, while his parents had assumed that he might have anxiety, or that it was all sprouting from bullies at school. Neither of which were true. It was just that something felt deeply wrong in his room, something was there. He’d even tried sleeping in other places: on the couch, on the kitchen floor, in the bathtub. No matter where he went the feeling of unease followed.
It’d gotten to the point where the bags under his eyes were impossible to ignore anymore. His parents had taken him to the doctor imploring for help. The doctors had ended up prescribing him sleeping pills, ones that he’d been forced to take before bed.
He hated the sleeping pills. He hated them because they actually did their job, and he found himself falling asleep even while behind his barricade of blankets and pillows. Night after night he slept, feeling just as uneasy when he woke as he did falling asleep.
Eventually he got used to pattern, used to the constant uneasiness, to being forced to sleep. Occasionally he would fake taking his pill so he could stay up all night, so he could keep his guard up all night.
It happened when he was nine. A regular night, a familiar pill, a too-familiar feeling, and then he was sleeping. He woke up in the middle of the night, however, his heart thundering in his chest, his hands clenched into fists underneath his body.
His throat felt dry and extremely parched, which he foolishly tried to convince himself was the reason for his awakening. The sleeping pills were so good that on occasion he had wet the bed, the need to relieve his bladder not even enough to wake him from the deep sleep.
So why had he awoken?
That feeling he normally had, the one that lasted all through the night, that followed him through the day—though less prominent—was stronger than ever. He was sure something was wrong, sure something was out of place.
He just had to turn on the lights. He had to turn them on and fill the room with light, and then he’d be safe.
He cautiously looked around the room, searching for a sign of anything out of place, before he slowly sat up in bed. There was a lamp right there on his bedside table, if he could only flip the switch…
Swallowing thickly, he slowly, silently shuffled towards the edge of his bed, leaning out over the edge and stretching towards the table, towards the switch. And then, by some horrible force in his mind, he got the wretched idea to look down.
There, between the edge of his bed and the table, was a person’s hand, gripping the wood of his bed frame in its pale fingers. Horror shot through Dan’s body, dragging through him and ensnaring him in its claws. Between the wooden bed frame and the mattress he glimpsed an eye, a hint of a grin, and with that he’d been scrambling backwards—unable to scream—and slamming himself against the wall. He wrenched all of his blankets and pillows around himself, hugging them to himself tightly as he shook uncontrollably.
The lights, he thought desperately. I need to turn on the lights!
But he was immobilized with fear, forced to sit there and shake, to sit there and pray to a God that he’d never really believed in. For how could God exist when night after night, he was plagued with fear? When now there was something under his bed? Under his bed. It was under his bed!
He spent the entire night in a similar state of terror, but daylight eventually squeezed its way through the blinds on the other side of his room. He waited until the room was full of the glorious light before carefully, legs shaking unbelievably, crawling out of his bed. A quick, terrifying search revealed that the underside of his bed was free of intruders, and he stood with a relieved sigh.
It was then that something gripped his arm.
His scream lodged itself in his throat, wanting desperately to escape but unable to due to the sheer terror coursing through his body. The presence behind him shifted slightly, the fingers around his arm holding him so lightly. Dan could’ve easily broken free, except he couldn’t. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything with the fear taking up all the room in his body, shoving him out of the way and filling him from head to toe.
“Did you really think it was the light keeping me away?” an unfamiliar voice said quietly. Except Dan had the uneasy sense that he’d heard it before—in his dreams, perhaps.
A whimper escaped him then, a mere fraction of the noise he actually wanted to make. The intruder’s other hand came up and played with his hair, twirling the curly locks around his finger before grabbing Dan’s chin and turning it to the side. Out of his peripheral vision he could make out the boy.
Older than Dan by a few years and as pale as if he’d never seen the sun. His hair was as dark as Dan’s room was without lights. The boy’s eyes were sharp and piercing, cold and blue. And his mouth was pulled up in an amused grin.
“Can’t you talk?” the boy said, frowning in annoyance. Of course Dan could talk. But at that moment he felt very, very unable to. And so he said nothing, he let himself stand there with the boy’s hands holding him hostage.
The very next moment his bedroom door flew open and Dan thanked every god in existence. His parents! They could save him!
He yanked his chin out of the other boy’s grasp, turning towards the door with wide eyes. His mother peered into the room.
“Dear, aren’t you getting ready for school?”
The world crashed around him. Couldn’t she… couldn’t she see the boy behind him? Holding his arm?
“Y-yes,” he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern flooding her voice as her brows furrowed. The boy behind him chuckled at that, and then leant forward and rested his chin on Dan’s shoulder, his breaths fluttering past his ear. Dan stiffened even more.
“Yes,” he repeated, and his mother nodded slowly.
“You look tired,” she said then. “You slept last night right?”
“Yes.”
With a nod, his mother left the room. And Dan started to panic, his breaths ripping and forcing their way in and out of his chest, all the while the boy—apparently invisible to others—stood draped over him.
“So you can talk!” he laughed, before peeling himself away from Dan and circling around him.
Finally free from the… the… thing’s touch, Dan scrambled backwards to the one place he’d always been safe. He threw himself into his bed and behind his barricade of pillows, pressing himself tightly against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut. He squeezed his hands into fists as he wrapped them around his knees and held himself still, praying to be left alone, for the other boy to leave him alone.
All that fear and unease he’d been feeling for so long, that had plagued him night after night, was like a tether to that boy. Like a connection between them.
“It’s less fun when you’re scared,” the other boy commented lightly, directly into Dan’s ear. He jumped, his shoulder slamming into the wall, as he wrenched his eyes back open and stared at the other boy. He hadn’t even felt the bed settle beneath his weight, nor had he felt the pillows move.
He’d looked for the pillows, on the bed and the floor, only to finally notice them out of the corner of his eye, stuck to the ceiling. Icy cold had gripped his lungs. Would he feel like this for the rest of his life? Unable to be happy or normal or not afraid?
“What are you?” he finally whispered, managing to look towards the other boy.
“Your worst nightmare,” the boy answered, a wicked grin plastered on his face. Dan had whimpered. “But I’d rather be your friend.”
—
Dan refused to be his friend. He said no outright to the boy, the /demon/. This had angered him—his eyes flaring red while he'd glared at Dan, disappearing immediately afterward.
At the time, Dan had thought he'd somehow managed to defeat the demon. He'd proceeded to go to school, feeling shaky but oddly safe, and returned home still feeling perfectly fine. That night he'd slept soundly, even after not taking his sleeping pills.
Following that he'd had a week of absolute bliss: he'd slept easily and woken feeling perfectly safe, had gone about his week as any normal kid should. He'd thought that that was the end of it, that he was finally free.
He was wrong.
It was a familiar feeling that woke Dan, like fear and dread coiling in his gut. He woke immediately, his eyes flying open, only to see another pair of eyes staring right back at him. A strangled gasp ripped itself out of his mouth as he flung himself backwards, pressing himself against the wall and wishing he would shrink, praying he could just disappear.
He flinched as cold fingers brushed his hair out of his face, gripping his comforter even tighter to his chest.
"Leave me alone," he whispered, after dredging up whatever scraps of courage he could find. The other boy laughed.
"I did," he answered. "For a whole week. Do you know how bored I've been?"
Dan kept his eyes clenched shut, tried to block out the boy in front of him. "Go away," he hissed.
The other boy huffed angrily before grabbing Dan's chin in his icy fingers. Dan's eyes flew open as he tried to jerk backward to no avail.
"I won't go away," the boy promised. "I'll always come back."
"Who are you?" Dan demanded.
"Your worst—"
"No. Who are you?"
The boy blinked, his head tilting to the side, before he smirked. "You can call me Phil."
--
After that, Phil started showing up even when Dan wasn't alone, even when it wasn't night.
The first time it happened Dan was in class.
"Watchya learning?" a voice asked loudly behind him, talking over the teacher. With the voice came the familiar feeling in Dan's stomach. He stiffened, his eyes darting left and right to see if anyone else had noticed the voice. No one had reacted, all of them still writing as the teacher talked. Her voice sounded muffled to Dan's ears though, his heart beating too loudly for him to hear her.
Phil leaned over his shoulder, one of his hands resting on Dan's as he peered at the paper on his desk.
"Division? You don't already know how to do that?"
Dan was shaking. And of course he didn't know, he was just now learning it!
Go away, he wrote on his paper. Need to learn.
"I could teach you division much better than this old hag," Phil proclaimed. The pencil in Dan's hand was slick with sweat and he was having trouble holding it. His entire body was shaking slightly.
"Dan? Your teacher's talking to you. Aren't you listening?"
Dan's head shot up at that, his eyes wide. His teacher was, in fact, looking at him—and all the students too.
Concentrate, he told himself. Listen.
"Daniel," his teacher said, likely not for the first time. He never corrected them, never asked them to call him Dan—he was too embarrassed.
"Yes?" he managed.
"Are you okay? Do you need to go to the nurse?"
"Yes," he answered.
"To which one, dear?"
"Nurse."
With that Dan rose shakily from his seat and stalked to the door, closing it firmly behind him, hoping it would deter Phil, that the demon would stay away from him.
"You need to learn to pay attention," Phil's voice commented lightly beside him. Dan ignored him, hurrying down the hall and escaping into the bathroom.
Thankfully, it was empty. He stood in front of the mirror and gripped the edges of the sink, staring into his own eyes. His entire face looked pale, his eyes sunken and surrounded with dark bruises. He was exhausted. And terrified.
"You're not lookin' too hot," Phil said, appearing in the mirror behind Dan, who flinched.
"Why are you here?" Dan demanded. "Why me?"
"Because I want to be. Because I like you," Phil answered. "Why are you so scared of me? I've never given you reason to be."
Dan just shook his head. He couldn't explain it, the pit of terror that grew from his stomach and flowed through his veins, filling his whole body. He couldn't explain how just Phil's presence did this to him, how being around him was unbearable.
"Just stop being afraid," Phil said, before placing his hands on Dan's shoulders. He stiffened and met the other boy's eyes in the mirror. Even as he was asking Dan not to fear him, his eyes twinkled mischievously, evilly. Dan wrenched himself out of his grasp.
"Leave me alone."
--
Phil didn't leave him alone. More often than not he appeared with Dan wherever he was. Shopping with his mother, learning in school, reading in bed—Phil would show up.
But, perhaps thankfully, the fear started to subside. Or at least, Dan could think around it. The other boy was right in saying he'd never done anything to make Dan fear him outright (other than being an actual demon, of course). Really, he was more of a nuisance than anything else.
When Phil showed up on his bed, stretched out and lounging in the exact middle, Dan would press himself against the wall. Or he'd move and sit at his desk.
In school, Dan would do his best to pay attention to the teacher, even as Phil walked along the desks, snooped on the other students.
"Hey," Phil had once called from the other side of the room, where he was peering over Susie's shoulder. "She wrote your name in a heart!" Dan had avoided Susie that afternoon at recess.
But really, Dan had only stopped fearing Phil when he was twelve. Three years of tolerating Phil, of wondering why he was here and what his purpose was and why he wasn't eating Dan's soul. Three years of secretly fearing him, wondering if Phil would one day decide it was time to torment Dan. Three years of clenching his eyes shut at night and holding in tears, wondering if it would be a night he could sleep or if would be one where he was forced to stay awake as Phil accompanied him, as the fear swirled in his body and kept him from falling asleep. (His parents had stopped buying him sleeping pills a couple years back, after Dan had proclaimed that he was now fine without them.)
It'd been three years of all that before he finally stopped feeling afraid of Phil.
As a twelve year old, he'd begun to realize that where other boys enjoyed talking about girls and daring each other to ask them out, Dan liked watching their eyes light up as they talked about them. He liked the shape of them under their t-shirts, he liked secretly watching them as they changed for gym, though his heart pounded relentlessly whenever he did this.
It happened as he was walking home from school. His parents had just bought him an ipod and headphones, which he now always has stuffed in his ears as he walked home from the bus stop. (They were especially useful against Phil, who sometimes wouldn't stop talking to him even when he was trying to do homework. Though Phil would yank them out of his ears if he Dan ignored him for long enough.)
It was just as Dan thought that that the cord was pulled, the bud tugged from his ear. He huffed angrily and spun to tell Phil off, to tell him to let him walk home in peace, only to see it wasn't Phil.
It was two boys from his bus, though they'd never gotten off at his stop before.
"What do you want?" Dan demanded. The taller of the two boys sneered, the shorter rolling his eyes.
"We know your secret," the taller finally said. Dan's heart immediately lodged itself into his throat. How did they know?
"I don't have a secret," Dan said, though his voice shook. He took an unsteady step backwards.
"Oh yeah? So you're not gay then?"
Dan's eyes widened and his breath halted. How did they know how did they know howdidtheyknow?
"N-no," Dan muttered. The shorter boy scoffed, and the taller took a step forward and shoved Dan.
"Liar!" he shouted.
"I'm not lying," Dan protested. He glanced around, debating where the best place to run would be, when something collided with his jaw and black spots danced across his vision, moments before pain exploded. He crumbled to the ground as the two boys surrounded him, yelling insults and kicking his sides. He curled into a ball, trying desperately to protect his head as their blows continued.
And then dread filled his stomach—and with it, hope.
He pried his eyes open and peered around the legs of the boys attacking him,
biting down on a whimper as a particularly harsh kick landed in his stomach. Phil was staring with wide eyes, his mouth open in surprise, before his expression was overcome with rage.
He stormed forward and ripped one of the boys away from Dan (Dan hadn't even realized Phil could touch people other than him), sending him flying to the ground. Both boys cried out at that, the taller of the two having suddenly flown through the air without a reason that they could see.
They both ran away after that, sprinting from Dan without a backward glance. He just curled further in on himself, his entire body throbbing.
"Dan!" Phil said, speaking in a whisper for some reason. His hands gripped Dan shoulders tightly as he peered into his eyes. "Are you okay?"
Belatedly, Dan realized that the fear was no longer coursing through him, that Phil touching him wasn't causing him to stiffen.
"Yes," he answered.
-- -- --
Dan woke up to find Phil staring at him.
"Go away," he grumbled, rolling over and burying his face into his pillows.
"I'm bored," Phil answered, hooking his leg around Dan's and pulling him backward. Dan groaned in protest.
"Gotta sleep," he insisted. “Test tomorrow.”
“I’ll help you cheat,” Phil promised, and Dan knew he would. Like Dan could sleep anyway—Phil’s presence almost always meant that Dan wouldn’t be able to get any rest. He didn’t know if it was something lingering from when he’d been younger, that innate fear that had lived inside him, or if it was a power of Phil’s: the ability to steal sleep from Dan.
He had little powers like that, things that Dan never knew about until Phil used them. He didn’t ask questions about Phil—he was pretty sure that wasn’t allowed. No one had ever told him so, but it just felt like the truth. Like up was up, down was down, and Dan wasn’t allowed to ask about Phil.
But sometimes Phil’s abilities would just reveal themselves, paired with a wicked grin from the owner. For example, one time Dan had been reading his book and resolutely ignoring Phil, at which point his book had floated out of his hand.
“I—what!” he’d exclaimed, gaping at his book, now out of reach. “That’s not fair!”
“You not paying attention to me is what’s not fair,” Phil had retorted.
Now, Dan kicked Phil’s leg off himself and hugged his comforter tighter, pressing himself up against the wall. It reminded him of when he’d been younger and scared of Phil, though now he was just scared of the lack of sleep that was threatening him.
Phil sidled up next to his side and pressed his cold fingers against Dan’s neck, who jerked and elbowed Phil viciously in the stomach. “Don’t!” he hissed, wrapping his entire self in a cocoon of comforter in response. He knew it wouldn’t do much to deter Phil, knew Phil had those creepy powers…
The comforter disappeared between one blink of an eye and another, after which Phil was pinning him to the bed. Dan frowned up at the other boy.
“You should just let my sleep.”
“Imagine how boring it is for me, having to sit and watch you sleep,” Phil sighed dramatically. “You’d think you’d be more apt to entertain me.”
“You’d think you could just disappear to wherever you go until morning.”
Phil frowned. “That’s mean.” He rested his weight more fully against Dan, pressing him into the bed even more. Dan knew that by now there was no hope left, he was going to have to deal with Phil’s antics.
He tried to squirm out from under Phil but found himself thoroughly trapped. “Let me go,” he said, trying to shove Phil away. The thing was, Phil was strong. He could only be shoved away if he wanted to be, and he grinned down at Dan in a way that suggested he didn’t want to be. “I want to put on a sweatshirt.”
Now that the comforter was gone Dan was noticeably colder, the cold air assaulting his bare chest. Phil having a lower than normal body temperature wasn’t helping the situation either.
“I don’t want you to put on a sweatshirt,” Phil countered. Dan huffed in annoyance, prepared to argue, when Phil’s finger flicked across his nipple.
“Why do they do this when you’re cold?” Phil asked. He was still touching it, running his cold fingers back and forth over it curiously. Dan’s breathing had turned shallow at the touch.
“I-I don’t know,” he responded, trying to squirm out from under Phil again. Phil didn’t budge.
“Either let me sleep or let me put on a sweatshirt,” Dan said. Phil huffed dramatically but he slid off Dan, shoving him towards the edge of the bed. Dan shivered as he shuffled towards his closet.
--
Dan rushed home, constantly scanning his surroundings. It wasn’t that he was afraid of muggers or bullies or anything like that, it was that he was afraid Phil would appear. Usually Phil chose to show up by sneaking up on Dan, though other times he had made dramatic entrances such as jumping out of trees or standing on top of a moving car (he thought he was funny like that).
He didn’t want Phil to show up today, however. And so he returned home as fast as he could without running, shouting a hello to his parents before storming up the stairs.
Finding his room blissfully empty, Dan locked the door and tore off his clothes before climbing into his bed. Having time to himself was basically nonexistent, and though he was comfortable around Phil, he wasn’t quite at the point of asking Phil to go disappear somewhere so he could masturbate. Instead he had to wait for a moment when he was alone and hope Phil wouldn’t show up during it.
That’s how Dan found himself ten minutes later, flat on his back and teasing himself, his mouth open as he panted. He so rarely got to do this, got to enjoy himself like this…
He whimpered slightly as he ran his thumb over the head of his cock, his hips jerking into the touch. His other hand was pinching and twisting his nipple, his toes curled as pleasure thrummed through his body.
“Looks like fun.”
Dan jerked backward, his eyes flying open to find Phil lounging beside him, his eyes running from Dan’s head to toes. Dan was pressed against the wall with a pillow in his lap in miliseconds, his face burning as he buried it in his hands.
“What the fuck,” he whispered, heart pounding no longer from pleasure, but embarrassment.
“Don’t stop on my account,” Phil said. Dan could hear the smirk in his voice. He wanted to disappear.
“Can’t you just go away?” he begged, still not daring to look at Phil.
“Being away isn’t as fun as being here.”
Dan whimpered. His cock throbbed. He was going to get blue balls because of a fucking demon.
“Why don’t you just continue?” Phil asked lightly.
“You’re an asshole,” Dan muttered.
“I doubt you wanted to stop, anyway,” Phil continued. “After all, you looked pretty into it.”
Dan felt his face turn even redder, hidden beneath his hands, and he groaned. “You’re the worst,” he whispered. To make matters worse, his clothes were on the other side of Phil. As was the comforter. He couldn’t get to anything without having to bypass the other boy.
“Am I?” Phil asked lightly. His fingers danced along the edge of Dan’s ankle, which Dan managed to yank away. “It’s not like I’ll judge you. Everybody does it.”
“Pervert,” Dan accused, and the bed shifted as Phil moved. Dan felt him settle beside him, his shoulder pressed up against Dan’s. Dan held his pillow tighter.
His eyes finally flew open when he felt Phil’s breath against the shell of his ear. Every nerve in his body was suddenly active and waiting as the other boy’s lips descended on his neck, slowly sucking the skin into his mouth. His tongue flicked against it and Dan shivered, his fingers clenching in the pillow held against his lap. Dan couldn’t help tilting his head, giving Phil more access. Phil took advantage of the movement and sucked even harder, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin. Dan whimpered.
And then he shoved his hand under the pillow. He gasped as his hand came in contact with his cock, and Phil moved down his neck a bit, sucking on a new section of his neck. Dan was panting again in no time as he worked his hand over himself, his other hand clutching desperately at the pillow.
“Fuck,” he breathed, and Phil chuckled against his neck. His fingers creeped up Dan’s chest and played with his nipple, making his breath hitch in his throat. He turned his head into Phil’s shoulder, dislodging the other boy’s mouth in doing so. His hand was getting faster and faster, his breathing doing the same.
Phil knocked the pillow aside and slid away from Dan, only to rearrange himself lower.
“Yes,” Dan whispered in realization, as Phil grinned up at him, hovering over his cock.
“What do you say?”
“Yes. Please, God, Phil!” Dan managed, and Phil descended upon him, his mouth hot, hot, hot where the rest of him was cold, cold, cold. His fingers were latched around Dan’s hips, keeping them from bucking as he swallowed him down.
“Fuck,” Dan whined, again and again, as his hand snuck down to latch itself in Phil’s hair. He was shaking, his body practically vibrating because of all the sensations.
Phil hummed around him, making Dan jerk underneath his ministrations, his fingers tightening, his toes curling.
It all happened too fast, too quickly, but one moment Phil’s hand was sneaking under him to cup his balls, all while he licked the tip of Dan’s cock, and then he was coming, shaking and moaning and twitching underneath Phil. He lay there panting as Phil sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Phil casually tossed the comforter over Dan, who tugged it up noncommittally.
“Was that good?” Phil asked, pressing himself up against Dan’s side.
Dan looked at him, bleary-eyed. “Yeah,” he said. And then he fell asleep.
--
It was odd, falling in love with a demon. Demons weren't made for love. They were made for terrorizing, made for maiming and destroying. They weren't made for love, weren't supposed to hold you tight while you read or brush your hair out of your face while you did homework. But Phil did. For so long, sleep had been almost unimaginable while Phil was around. But now it was easy. Dan went to sleep with Phil by his side, Phil's arm wrapped around his torso, his soft breaths tickling the hair at the back of Dan's neck. Usually when Dan wasn't paying attention Phil would start idly playing with him, massaging his hand or his shoulders, playing with his hair. Dan loved it when Phil touched him. He loved the soft touches like those, and he loved the others ones too, the ones that left him clinging to Phil and crying out, panting and whimpering as his hands worked magic on him. He loved Phil. It was hard not to, after everything. Phil was his only friend, was the person who paid the most attention to him, who actually seemed to care for him. He talked to Phil more than he ever talked to anyone else. Finally, he decided it was time to tell him. Phil was sat across from him on his bed, one of Dan's booked propped open in front of him, when he said it. "Phil," Dan prompted. Phil looked up at him, his eyebrows raised slightly in question. Dan cleared his throat. "I love you." For a second, there was nothing. And then Phil grinned. It split his face from ear to ear, terrible, horrible. And then he disappeared. Dan's heart thudded loudly in his chest. An unfamiliar feeling, one that he had abandoned long ago, coiled in his stomach. It spread throughout his body and left him paralyzed with fear. Phil didn't return; not the next day, not the next week, not the next year. At first Dan questioned why. He was desperate, he was scared and hurt and filled with sorrow. But he knew what it was. How could he not? It was his worst nightmare.
~
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(alternate ending for u pussies)
