irresponsible
2012!dan
summary: it's not until dan catches a nasty bug and phil isn't there to care for him that he realizes that he's almost lost phil
word count: 3020
genre: angst with a happy ending, sickfic
warnings: i use the f slur once so beware, also vomiting
Dan woke up to an empty bed and an uneasy feeling in his stomach. The empty bed was nothing new. Phil had been going out of his way lately to avoid Dan, claiming all Dan did these days was start arguments. Dan would blame Phil right back, causing the two to once again argue. Dan was surprised Phil even bothered sleeping in the same room with him anymore since he acted like he couldn’t stand Dan anymore.
It hurt more than Dan would admit to, being too prideful to stop the arguing for one second and listen to his bruised heart.
Dan grumbled and sat up. He felt miserable and grouchy, more than normal. He stumbled out of bed and slipped on a hoodie, mumbling angrily to himself about how cold it was. He didn’t think about the fact that it was only September and that it was relatively warm outside. Dan stormed out of his room, heading for coffee to wake himself up.
“With my luck, the coffee machine will be broken,” he muttered to himself. When he arrived in the kitchen, however, he found something much worse than a broken coffee machine.
Phil stood waiting for him, scowling with his arms crossed. Dan’s heart sunk; he was in trouble. He immediately regretted getting up. He avoided making eye contact with Phil, pretending not to notice how livid he looked. The uneasiness in his stomach grew and coffee no longer seemed appetizing. In fact, the idea of putting anything in his stomach made him feel queasy.
“Dan,” Phil said, his voice lacking its usual comfort.
Dan sighed and looked up at Phil. He didn’t want to deal with yet another argument again. “What do you want?”
Phil’s scowl increased. “Care to explain why the dishes aren’t done? Again?”
Dan shrugged. He didn’t like doing the dishes, so he’d procrastinate and later forget that he needed to do them.
“When are you going to start taking responsibilities for these things?” Phil yelled and Dan knew it was only going downhill. “All you do is sit around on twitter antagonizing our viewers and blaming me when things don’t go your way!”
Dan felt his blood boil. “You think I’m the one who’s irresponsible? I’m not the one who let the video get out.”
Phil scoffed. “Get over it already, it’s been a year. I actually took care of getting it deleted instead of lashing out and acting as if the idea of us being in a relationship is the worst thing ever.”
Dan’s cheeks burned red. He knew Phil was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. “Maybe if you stopped acting like I’m such a lazy asshole I wouldn’t act like our relationship is the worst thing ever.”
Phil looked shocked for a split second, but it was quickly replaced with a cold glare. “I’m going out,” he said quietly, his voice cold and icy. He deliberately shoved Dan as he stormed out of the kitchen, causing Dan to stumble into the counter.
Dan turned to yell something back at him, only to wince and double over as his stomach cramped. He clutched it helplessly as the pain increased. Why did he have to get sick now? He had other things he needed to worry about, like his liveshow tonight and the radio show.
He threw some bread into the toaster, despite his lack of appetite, and leaned against the counter as he waited. He could feel a dull pain pulsing against his temples, though he attributed it to having woken up not too long ago. He let his eyes fall shut, replaying the argument with Phil over in his head.
It was ridiculous, they couldn’t go one day without getting into some petty argument over something like the dishes, and it was all Dan’s fault. If he didn’t react the way he did with the fans, things wouldn’t have been so tense between them. Phil was right; Dan was irresponsible. Dan couldn’t help it sometimes. There were days when all he could do was stay in bed crying from how anxious he felt. He had slowly developed an anxiety disorder over the past two years and it was making his life a living hell. Phil used to try to help him, but quickly got sick of the same routine. They argued too much anyway for Phil to comfort him.
The toaster dinged, startling Dan out of his thoughts. He pulled the toast out and set it on a plate, then walked into the lounge to eat it.
He turned on the tv to a random show and nibbled on the toast. His stomach turned as he ate it, but he tried to ignore it. He ended up stopping halfway through when the nausea in his stomach became unbearable.
Dan hugged his stomach with his arms and buried his face in the couch cushion. This day was slowly becoming the second worst in his life. He felt his stomach turn again and he knew that he was going to throw up. Not wanting to create a mess and add to Phil’s accusation of him being irresponsible, Dan got up, the world spinning for a second, and stumbled to the bathroom.
Dan stared at the lid of the toilet seat, his world caught in a feverish state. There was no denying that he was sick. Along with his stomachache, he had a fever and the room felt like it was spinning.
Dan leaned against the bathroom wall, clutching his stomach. He whimpered as it cramped, shooting pain all over his abdomen.
He wanted Phil to come back and care for him like he always did. Or at least, how he did before everything got messed up. Dan closed his eyes and tried to hold back the tears that were beginning to form. If Phil wasn't angry at him, he would be in here with Dan, rubbing his back. He'd be getting a cool washcloth and press it against Dan’s head. He would be whispering reassuring things and making Dan feel safe, despite how awful his body felt.
But he wasn't here to do all that, making Dan realize how dependent he was on Phil. Dan could feel the urge to cry building his chest, making the nausea even worse. He tried to swallow it back, but in his miserable state all he could focus on was how lonely he was.
With a strong wave a nausea, he gripped onto the toilet and threw up, the nausea forcing its way out of his stomach. He started to cry from the pain and the loneliness, making his body even more upset.
He managed to get himself back under control after minutes of dry heaving and choked sobs. His stomach still ached but thankfully the nausea was settled for the time being. As much as he would like to, Dan couldn't stay in the bathroom. He didn’t want Phil to find him there and yell at him more. He flushed the toilet and stood up, legs feeling like they belonged to a newborn deer. Dan slowly rinsed out his mouth, noting the sickly features on his face in the mirror. He probably needed to take medicine, but didn't have the effort to nor did he think he could keep anything down. He walked back up to the lounge, cradling his stomach with his free hand.
Dan settled in with their throw blanket on the couch, eyes already drooping from exhaustion and the fever. Sleep didn't come easy, however, as his stomach kept bothering him. The exhaustion eventually won over and Dan slipped into an uneasy sleep.
His sleep was plagued with angry words and viewers laughing at him, calling him a fag. The entire time, Phil stood there looking down on him in disappointment. The dream worsened as time went on and he soon was crying, hot tears burning his cheeks in shame and guilt. Phil started yelling, telling Dan how much he hated him and how he wished they had never met.
Dan was awoken by someone shaking his shoulder. The nausea was back and even worse this time and Dan would rather not deal with that.
"Dan!"
Dan cracked his eyes open and saw Phil's face in front of him. He looked angry and Dan felt even worse. Before he could stop himself or get to the bathroom, Dan leaned over the edge of the couch and began to retch. Phil jumped back out of the way, the anger being replaced with panic. He took off towards the bathroom, trying to find a bucket or trashcan while Dan threw up on the floor. He ended up grabbing the trash can next to the toilet. He came back and shoved it under Dan’s chin, careful to avoid the mess.
Dan gratefully took the trash can and gagged into it, stomach twisting itself in knots. He was crying again and everything felt awful. He gasped for air between retching and sobs.
“Dan, you need to calm down,” Phil said, his voice stern.
Dan tried to breath, but between the nausea and the crying, he could only manage a few choked breaths. He started to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. “Dan, breath.” Phil grabbed his shoulders and began to take deep breaths for Dan to copy.
It took a few minutes, but Dan managed to get his breathing back under control. He laid back down, eyes fluttering shut. His body ached and he wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep. He felt incredibly weak and helpless.
A cool hand pressed itself against his forehead, making him groan. "You have a fever," Phil murmured.
"I'm sorry," Dan whispered, his voice hoarse and pitiful. He started to hiccup from crying and the stress. It made his stomach hurt more, adding to his misery. Phil sighed, removing his hand from Dan’s face. "Let's focus on getting you better for right now."
Dan whimpered, his heart aching. This was all his fault.
"What all is bothering you?"
"Tummy mostly. Feel dizzy and achy."
"Sounds like the stomach flu."
It definitely felt like the stomach flu from the way his stomach was turning. He wish Phil would kiss his forehead and tell him he was going to be okay, even if it was a lie. He wished Phil would rub his stomach or place a washcloth on his head to help cool him off.
Instead, Phil stood up and began to walk away. “I’m going to clean up this mess and get you some water.”
Dan nodded and pulled the blanket up to his chest. He fought off the need to cry again, not wanting a repeat of what happened earlier. The hiccups slowly died down, but Dan still felt awful.
It was obvious that Phil was still mad at him from how distant he was acting. Phil wasn’t really caring for Dan but making sure Dan had all the stuff he needed so he could care for himself. Dan had screwed up badly, and he needed to fix it.
Dan didn’t know where to start, though. He was staring at a mountain of pain and hurt and it was all overwhelming. But he needed to clean it up, needed to fix it for Phil. If he didn’t, well, he’d rather not think about what would happen. He loved Phil too much and couldn’t lose him.
He tried to make eye contact with Phil again when he came back in the room, but he deliberately ignored Dan. Dan watched as he cleaned up the mess, feeling even more guilty. He should have brought a bucket or trash can in case he woke up feeling sick. He had felt too sick at the time, yet he still regretted it.
Phil seemed annoyed the entire time like he was cleaning up yet another mess made by Dan. In a way he was, though this one wasn’t on purpose and was out of Dan’s control.
Dan shut his eyes and sighed. He rubbed his aching stomach gingerly, trying to soothe it after having thrown up so violently. His head became clouded and he drifted off a bit, staying awake enough to keep out of the nightmares that waited for him.
Once Phil had cleaned up the mess, he forced Dan to move back to his own room. Dan merely obeyed, despite wanting to stay out in the lounge where Phil inevitably would be. Even his presence made Dan feel better.
Phil left as soon as Dan was settled in with a glass of water by his bed and a bucket to prevent anymore accidents. Dan shivered, curling up on himself more. He couldn’t sleep, not with the way his mind was racing anxiously, trying to find a way to get Phil to forgive him.
The only way Dan could think of was for him to delete all his angry replies on twitter and tumblr and finally start taking responsibility.
Ignoring the protest from his sensitive stomach, Dan got up and grabbed his laptop from his desk. He brought it back to bed and got to work on cleaning up his social media. The light of the laptop made the nausea worse, yet he kept on working. He deleted post after post of him yelling that he wasn’t gay or saying that he would only ever see Phil as a friend. All the angry tweet replies disappeared too, only to be saved by those who bothered screenshotting it. By the time he was satisfied that most of the angry posts had been deleted, the nausea was overwhelming and he was barely holding his stomach contents back.
Dan laid back down and pulled his knees to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut. He managed to settle the nausea back down long enough for him to drift off into another sick-induced nightmare.
Dan slept for the rest of the day, only waking up occasionally to drink water or go through his social media again. He cancelled his liveshow, knowing he’d most likely get sick during some part of it and wouldn’t be able to focus at all. Phil didn’t bother checking up on him at all, which only made Dan’s heart break more. He missed Phil so much. He never noticed how much of a spot he took up in Dan’s life until they began to fight.
He had planned on cleaning their apartment the next day to try to prove to Phil that he was responsible, however his body had other plans. Dan woke up with a start in the early morning, sweaty and dizzy. His stomach ached much worse than it had before he fell asleep and his head felt like it held a ton of bricks. Knowing what was about to come, Dan stumbled out of his room and practically ran to the bathroom. Whatever was left in his stomach was quickly thrown up.
Dan collapsed onto the floor, his stomach empty and aching. His head spun like a carousel on steroids and his muscles felt like he had ran an entire marathon without stopping. He couldn’t get up, no matter how hard he tried.
He needed Phil.
Dan needed him so badly to care for him, to be back by his side. He couldn’t stand the cold glares or pointless fights. At this point, he’d do anything for Phil to look at him again.
All the petty anger he had held for the past month disappeared, replaced with the desperate need for the one he loved. His pride finally died out, the pain overcoming it.
“Phil,” he called out weakly. “Phil, help.”
He called out Phil’s name a couple more times, then gave up. He let his eyes fall shut and he sighed. Phil wasn’t coming. Even if he heard Dan, he wouldn’t have come. Dan had drifted off slightly when he suddenly felt someone picking him up. He opened his eyes weakly to see Phil’s face. He looked worried and tired.
“Ph-Phil,” Dan choked out, “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Dan. I forgive you.” His voice was like honey to Dan’s ears and the ultimate cure to his illness.
Dan leaned into Phil’s chest as he carried Dan up the stairs and back to his bedroom. Instead of leaving as quickly as possible like he did earlier, Phil stayed, leaving only to get a wet washcloth. He got Dan to drink some water to keep him hydrated. He propped Dan up with some pillows and gently wiped Dan’s face with the washcloth to rid it of the sweat. Dan hummed contently at Phil’s soft touches. They felt so loving that Dan forgot about his sickness, swept up the way his heart was slowly coming back together and bursting with love.
“I love you so much,” Dan whispered, looking up at Phil.
Phil smiled softly. “I love you too,” he replied, placing the washcloth down next to the water glass. He let his hand cup Dan’s cheek and he stroked soft, soothing circles with his thumb. “I’m sorry as well. I know things are harder on you because of your anxiety and it’s not fair for me to expect you to be able to handle everything calmly. I haven’t been there for you when I need to be.”
Dan smiled shakily. “I promise you I’ll try to be more responsible and not lash out as much.”
“And I promise that I’ll be there for you when your thoughts are too loud.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dan’s forehead, tangling his fingers in Dan’s sweaty hair.
Dan let his eyes flutter shut, his mind finally silenced. He had Phil back at his side and even though they needed to both try harder, he’d do it for Phil.
Phil laid down next to him, placing his hand over Dan’s stomach. “I’ll be right next to you if you need me, ok?”
Dan nodded, a big smile taking over his face. Everything was slowly falling back together and he couldn’t be more happy about it.
They could make it through this. They just needed to face it together.
