#phandom fic fests

[asforthesoundtrack]

in a box beneath my bed

summary: A collection of letters from Dan to Phil in 2009, all unsent.

rating: g

word count: 2.7k

a/n: written for @phandomficfests escape from reality day one: point of view fest!

Read on ao3

11 February 2009

Dear Phil,

So I’m not too sure why I’m writing this other than the fact that I’m in Psychology right now and I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what’s going on here--there’s just way too much going on in our brains and mine’s not nearly fast enough to keep track of it all. But the only way to get on Mrs. Hennesy’s good side is to look like you’re taking notes, so here I am.

Anyway. We’re just going to skip over the awkwardness of you not even knowing me because let’s be real, there’s no way I’m actually sending this. I know you’ve got that PO box and everything, but that’s for like…. girls who wanna send you nice letters and lions and shit. Not nerds with no friends who are probably just gonna bring you down.

Plus, it’s not like you’d be able to read this smudge fest to begin with.

God, I’m sorry. I’m sure I just spent half a page boring you. I just wanted to talk about the video you posted yesterday, the one with the heater and your story about your Big Brother audition and the tarot cards. I’m sorry you didn’t get through but maybe that’s not so bad, you know? I don’t know if I could handle only seeing your face an hour a week on TV. Your head might get so big it actually explodes. What I really can’t stop thinking about though, for whatever reason, is those damn tarot cards.

And here’s the thing: I know they’re not real. I mean, come on. You really think some person, or the universe, or whatever, knows everything that’s ever gonna happen to you? No, someone was just bored one day hundreds of years ago and drew some pictures and decided to associate them with events or people that basically anyone comes across at some point in their life. It doesn’t mean anything.

So then why can’t I stop thinking about that damn knight?

I don’t know, mate. I really don’t know. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel… I dunno, something when you pulled that card. It was weird. Like, I know it has nothing to do with me but I can’t shake this weird feeling that maybe it does? Somehow? Maybe it’s the universe telling me to grow some balls and message you already. Or at least add you on MySpace or something.

Shit, Mrs. Hennesy’s turning off the overhead. I gotta go.

-Dan

3 June 2009

Dear Phil,

I

You

I

Oh god, where do I even begin here?

I told myself. Fuck, I TOLD myself I wasn’t gonna get worked up over this. You have no idea who I am, aside from my mildly decent profile photo and the fact that we both like Muse. And we have the same taste in movies. Somehow??

Oh yeah, and apparently neither of us have any concept of sleep. Maybe we’re vampires. (That sounds like something you’d say. God Dan, you have one conversation and suddenly you’re turning into the same person. Keep it together, mate.)

So, this is gonna be really risky because I have to make sure Roger’s not looking over my shoulder and I can’t be too obvious about this or anything, but I can’t stop thinking about last night. I know that sounds cliche as all hell but it’s the honest truth. I mean first, I never expected you’d get back to me so fast. I’ve barely had a Twitter account for a fortnight and my first attempt at a flirty decent reply was the one you chose?

But SOMEHOW you didn’t stop there. You just had to stalk the (admittedly way too few) tweets I had and SOMEHOW found my dorky fanboy @replies to Muse. And then I got a DM from the AmazingPhil.

Alright, I said I wasn’t gonna be a dork about this but clearly that can’t be done. So yeah, you DM’d me. And I’m not saying I fell off my bed because that would be ridiculous but, uh, there may have been some ass-on-floor action. For like, a SECOND.

And then you had to go right in with that Muse question (of COURSE I’m excited for the album, who do you think I am, but then I guess we aren’t all well-versed in the art of small talk, myself included) and alright, I may have pushed my laptop across my bed. I don’t know. I had zero control of literally anything at that moment.

I hope I wasn’t too awkward in my replies but you’ve gotta know you scared the SHIT out of me, mate. Ever the excellent communicator, though, you seemed to handle things pretty well. And were maybe... excited? If those exclamation marks were anything to go by? But then, I’m sure you’re that way with everyone. It’s why you joined YouTube, yeah? Like me, you were desperate to talk to people, so you thought you’d whack up a camera and give it a go and here you are now.

Plus, it’s always exciting when you find someone who shares your interests. I may be sad as hell most of the time, but I do know that much.

And shit, Mrs. Hennesy’s turning off the projector again. Which means (continued in next class) I spent an entire block not listening to a damn thing. Again. There goes that A-Level, I guess.

-Dan

12 June 2009

Dear Phil,

So, it’s been a few hours. I’ve had a sleep.

But goddamnit, I cannot stop thinking about your interactive video adventure thingy.

I don’t know if you saw my ridiculous comments (I don’t even know what I said honestly, my brain was not connected to my fingers) but I really do mean it. I’ve seen some pretty cool annotations videos but this one blows all of them out of the water. I mean, HOW are you able to think of all those paths and the rewards at the end and all those props and costumes and camera angles and everything? Aren’t you working on a Master’s degree too??

Ok yeah, you probably had a bit of help. Nobody can do all that on their own, even for a fun YouTube side thing. But still!!

There’s so much I could say about this, although I’m pretty sure I dumped it all in your DMs last night. So for now, I just have to say: HOW? How did you know??

I know my school friends know a bit about my Final Fantasy obsession thanks to drunk Dan never knowing when to shut his mouth, but there’s no way you could know that. I haven’t tweeted about it at all and we’ve barely talked about it, except when you asked me what my favorite game was. (I didn’t wanna freak you out and go full FF nerd though, as hard as that was.) You have no idea what that game means to me.

But somehow SOMEHOW you do. Or maybe it means something to you too. And so does the music because oh my god, you got it exactly right. Exactly. I know I told you a bit in my comments and tweets and DMs (oh god, now I see why I always got scolded for annoying my classmates) but fuck. I don’t know if I can even put it into words what you did. It felt like my heart was flying out of my chest and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But it was even more than that. Something deeper.

Maybe it’s because it was like 11 at night when it all got posted and I’m apparently still exhausted from exams. I don’t know. Whatever it was, something somehow managed to take control of my brain and say ‘You know those feelings everyone says are wrong but that you can’t seem to stop no matter what? Maybe, just for now, they’re alright.’ I’m not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that is fucking life changing.

So yeah. I’m fucked. And I know you rushing to finish this by the end of my birthday (which I mentioned maybe twice in passing and like once in a tweet) doesn’t mean anything. That’s just who you are. You’re thoughtful and ambitious and creative enough to create this whole little world. And I’m just. Dan. There’s nothing interesting about me besides the fact that I clearly have some kind of procrastination disease and can’t force myself to give enough of a fuck about school even when my entire future and my chances of leaving this shithole depend on it.

I don’t know. I really don’t. But (and I really can’t believe I’m writing this), if I have any sort of shot at all you can bet your (probably incredible, let’s be real here) ass I’m taking it.

I know you won’t ever read this, but I hope you had a good train ride back home, Phil. And I can’t wait to see you in my DMs again.

-Dan

12 September 2009

Dear Phil,

So. I could sit here moaning about this stupid cold that won’t go away like I’ve been doing for the past hour while I let my responsibilities chase each other around my head like the overexcited children I spend way too much time dreaming about us having one day .

Or I could do the thing I always do when I have a ton of voices in my head that won’t shut up and thoughts that have to come out some way or another. I think I’ve finally gotten over the weirdness of knowing you won’t read this, and I’m starting to find it comforting now.

Things have been...weird this week, to say the least. I know I told you about how shitty it feels to see all my friends go off to uni while I’m still stuck in this town I fought so hard to get out of, but for whatever reason, I’m feeling that extra hard today. Sure, lots of people take gap years, it’s not a big deal and at least I can save up a bit of money. It shouldn’t be that bad.

So then why does it feel like my entire life’s been put on hold and I’m slipping further and further behind when some of my friends haven’t even started uni yet?

It doesn’t help that my parents are actually on my ass about setting things up for my exam resit and finding a tutor and everything. It’s not like I need that much help--I got a B for fuck’s sake, I was so close and the exam isn’t even until February anyway. That’s a lifetime away.

Or maybe it’s the fact that they only give a shit about me when I’m about to leave for good.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I really don’t. And it’s not like work is any better. They hate me now after faking sick during Reading Festival, I know they do. It’s honestly a miracle I haven’t been fired yet. I thought writing this stuff out would help me but if anything, I just feel more confused and stressed and I just want it all to be done.

I’m not lying when I say you’re the only bright spot in my day, Phil. I know you only just finished your final project and I can only imagine how scary and confusing the future must look right now. And yet your capacity to still be able to send me smileys and hearts when you know I’m having a hard day is… well, it’s astounding to say the least.

It makes me want to be better, to cheer you up whenever I see that you were having a hard time with that project or when you say you’re a little bit scared to see your parents again because you’re afraid they’ll nag you about your future plans (believe me, I wish that was the only problem I had with mine). I don’t know how you manage to put a positive spin on just about anything, but I think I love you for it. It’s these moments when I feel like words on a screen just aren’t enough.

I want to see you in person, as terrifying as that feels right now. I want to give you my best, biggest hugs and so much more that I could never write on paper. I need to see you smile through more than just YouTube or Skype. It’s honestly getting to the point where I feel like one Phil smile could power me for a thousand years.

But I think we both know I’ll never actually say that. No matter how much I’m dying to.

-Dan

20 October 2009

Dear Phil,

I still can’t believe I’m actually here. I know that sounds cliche as fuck and exactly how you’d expect me to start out a letter when I’m sitting next to you, waiting for you to wake up in your bed in Rawtenstall but it’s literally all I can think about right now.

Yesterday was… fuck, I don’t know if I even have words to describe it. Let’s just say, if you saw something running every which way around Manchester, without a care for anything or anyone around it, that was my heart. It keeps threatening to take off every time I glance over and see you right there, so calm and peaceful and just content. Honestly, it would be such an inconvenience if it didn’t feel so bloody amazing.

I know you’ll probably say one day that you were so nervous (yes, I could tell, but it was so damn adorable and I still cannot believe I have that effect on you) but Phil, you’ve gotta know I was absolutely scared shitless. Like, I still don’t know how I survived that three and a half hour train ride without jumping off somewhere in the middle. And then, suddenly, there you were. And you just suggested we go to Starbucks like we were normal people, like this was just a normal Monday and not a day that I’ve known for two weeks now will change things forever for both of us.

Then there were the tour guide jokes. God Phil, I hope you know that you don’t have to try so hard to be funny around me. I mean, I think you figured that out eventually. Just being here with you makes me feel like I’ve won some sort of magical prize. That sounds like something you’d say--maybe by the end of these few days we will be the same person.

Of course the Arndale was fun, but I think even you could tell by the end of that how tired I was of being around people. It’s one thing to hide yourself at school, when I could kind of fade into the background and joke around to distract myself from the bone-crushing terror of everyone finding out the truth. It’s a whole other thing entirely when you have all these FEELINGS that can’t shut up no matter how much you force them down.

And then, when you realize you don’t want to force them down--shit, I honestly felt like I was on another planet. I know Manchester isn’t exactly a gay mecca, but something about it just feels like a different world. Maybe because I know there’s no chance I’d run into anyone I know. Either way, I could tell you were grateful when the wheel was practically empty too.

And then, well...you know what happened after that. I don’t even know why I was so scared at first, when it felt more right than anything in the world. Something both ended and began there, although I don’t think I can tell you what just yet. I’m sure you know it was amazing, though.

And--fuck Phil, your toes are FREEZING but the fact that they’re now wedged between my legs probably means you’ll be waking up soon and asking me what I’m writing and I’ll tell you it’s nothing to worry about because it is, and you probably won’t remember it later.

I bet you’re adorable when you wake up. And I cannot WAIT to spend these next two days with you.

Love,

Dan

[combeauferre]

what we are to each other

7k words, m

So maybe they both suck at communication. Maybe Dan needs to talk to Phil about what they are to each other. And maybe Phil needs to sit his parents down and tell them that big, slightly scary thing about himself. But maybe it'll all work itself out, one way or another.

written for the phandomficfests fic exchange!

read on ao3

[paradisobound]

Perfect Night for Wishes

Summary: Dan hasn’t been nervous for a date in nearly 10 years. But now that Phil suddenly wants to go out for Valentine’s Day, he finds himself nervous for their date.

Word Count: 1.6k

Genre: Fluff

Written for the @phandomficfests Flash Fic Fest: Dates!

[Read on Ao3]

It’s been a really long since Dan has been nervous for a date. In fact, it’s been almost 10 years since Dan has been nervous for a date. But tonight, he feels nervous and he’s not sure why.

It’s Valentine’s Day and Phil was the one that suggested that they should do something special this year but Dan didn’t know why. He didn’t question it though when a few days later, Phil told Dan that he had made them reservations at a nice restaurant in London just down from their flat.

But now, he’s questioning it. For the last nine years, he and Phil would just stay in their flat, have a nice dinner, watch a movie, and then finish the night by having sex and sharing in the love for each other. He didn’t see why this year had to be any different, but yet, here he was, stood in their ensuite bathroom and trying to tame his curls that wanted to be unruly.

Phil had told him that the dress attire for the restaurant was formal so Dan had dressed in a nice black and white striped button down and a pair of black slacks that he only wore for business meetings.

He hadn’t even seen Phil yet. He’s not even sure if he knows what he’s doing or where he is in their flat. Dan had retreated back to their room around 3pm to begin getting ready so Phil wouldn’t panic about not making their reservation time.

Dan worked on putting the last curl in place before he smoothed out his shirt and felt dressed and ready enough to go and try and find Phil. On the way out, he picked up his nice jacket that he’d laid on the bed and slipped on his shoes.

Walking out of the bedroom, he saw Phil pacing back and forth in the hallway, his blazer laying tight against his body and his pants tailored near perfectly. Dan has never seen Phil look so fit in their time of being together.

“Where did you get your outfit?” Dan asks and Phil jumps.

Spinning on his heels, Phil turns and Dan flashes a smile at him. Phil seems nervous and jittery, his hands shaking and his face flushed. “Louise helped me pick it out for our date.”

Dan looked him up and down. “You look amazing.”

Phil let out a breath and his shoulders visibly dropped and his face relaxed. “So do you.”

Dan walked up to him and slowly put his arms around Phil’s neck, feeling Phil’s hands find their natural way to his hips. He leaned in slowly and pressed a kiss to Phil’s lips, feeling Phil relax even more from it. Dan pulled back and smirked at him before asking, “Ready to go?”

They got to the restaurant a few minutes before their reservation time but the hostess was able to still seat them despite that at their table. Sitting down, Dan noticed that there was a bottle of Champagne in a bucket on the end of the table with two glasses next to it.

“Champagne?” Dan asks with a chuckle. “You’re serious about our date tonight, aren’t you? Gonna buy me another 2,000 pound meal?”

Phil blushed and sat down across from him. “I wanted it to be special.”

Dan adjusted his napkin on his lap and moved his silverware to the left side before he looked up and smiled at Phil. “It’s already special because it’s you.”

The waiter came over a few minutes later and offered them some water, pouring it into glasses for them. The waiter also opened and poured some of the Champagne for them before giving them a few minutes to look over the order.

“What are you thinking of getting?” Dan asks, folding the menu to look at the other side which was all of the steaks and meats that were being offered.

Phil looked up and then looked back down. “I was thinking maybe one of the pasta dishes. Maybe the spaghetti carbonara.”

“That sounds good.” Dan says, remembering how he had read the description for that just a few moments before. “I’m thinking of just getting the chicken marsala.”

“You can get whatever you want.”


Dan quickly looks up and narrows his eyes at Phil. He was acting weird. Of course Dan was going to get what he wanted to. They shared a bank account so it didn’t matter. “Are you okay?”

Phil nods quickly, far too quickly, and sets down his menu. “Do you like the champagne?”

Dan looks at his untouched glass and slowly picks it up, taking a sip before setting it back down. It tasted like champagne should taste. Sparkling, even a little refreshing, and light. “Yeah? It tastes fine.”

“Oh good!”

The waiter comes over and Dan orders first and then Phil orders after and then the waiter takes their menus and they wait. Phil doesn’t look as on edge now as he did before and they continue sipping at their champagne and enjoying their wait.

The food comes out faster than Dan was expecting and they both indulge in what they’re eating. Dan even reaches over and takes a little bit of Phil’s food to try as well and Phil takes a piece of his chicken too.

They finish their food and their champagne and the waiter comes over asking if they want dessert but Dan’s actually really full and so he declines. Phil declines as well and they get the bill.

Phil pays the waiter using their shared card and then they stand up to leave. Dan slips his jacket on and Phil slips his blazer back on. They maneuver their way through the mass crowds of couples at the restaurant to the exit and once onto the street, Dan sees his beautiful the night sky looks above them.

“Can we head over to the park for a little bit?” Phil asks suddenly, his hand intertwined with Dan’s despite them being out in the open. “I want to enjoy the evening a little bit longer. This is the first time we’ve went out for Valentine’s Day in a long time.”

Dan nods and then take a sharp left towards the small park near their flat that Dan sometimes did his jogging around. It was quiet and quant, often people didn’t come here.

They followed the paths and ended up in the middle of the park, near the water fountain in the middle that was surrounded by benches. But no one else was around. It was just them.

Dan can feel Phil tugging him towards the fountain so he follows and he finds himself standing next to it as Phil removes his hand from Dan’s and then places his arm around Dan’s waist.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Dan nods and turns to Phil, smiling at him. “It’s one of the best nights this year.”

“So it’s a perfect night, right?”

Dan furrowed his brow and stood back a little from Phil, looking at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, how about you make a wish in the fountain! It’s a perfect night, so maybe your wish will come true?”

Dan opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it. He fished in his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening the billfold and reaching around until he found a 10p coin. He pulled it out and gave Phil one last look before he closed his eyes.

What did he want to wish for? He already had everything he already could have wished for in his life.

He let’s go of the coin and hears it splash gently into the fountain and trickle down to the bottom with all of the other coins and wishes. He opens his eyes and turns to look at Phil but quickly, he notices Phil isn’t stood there.

Dumbfounded, he turns a little bit but then his eyes catch on something and he follows it.

Kneeling on one knee by the side of the fountain is Phil, holding out a black velvet box with a glimmering band sticking out. He doesn’t have time to process what’s actually happening until Phil says, “Will you marry me?”

Dan nods quickly and feels tears prick the corner of his eyes. “Yes!”

Phil stands up quickly and wraps his arms around Dan and picks him up off the ground and spins him. Dan holds Phil tight as he laughs in disbelief as a few tears escape down his cheeks.

He pulls back and Phil is holding the ring between his fingers. Dan places his left hand out and Phil slips the ring onto his finger. It’s a little too big but he can worry about the sizing later.

He leans down and kisses Phil, placing his hands on the sides of Phil’s face. When he pulls back, he sees Phil is crying too. “Is this why you wanted to do something special for Valentine’s Day?”

Phil nods. “I was so damn nervous you were going to say no.” He admits. “I’ve been thinking about this for a solid month now because I was terrified you were gonna say no.”

“Why would I have said no?” Dan asks, looking down at the simple silver band on his left hand.

Phil shrugs. “My mind kept telling me you would.”

“I love you.” Dan says, leaning in again to kiss Phil again.

“I love you too.” Phil says against Dan’s lips. “I love you more than I can even describe.”

They leave the park not long after, and find their way back to their flat. Before they can properly celebrate the evening, Phil stops Dan mid kiss on their bed and asks, “Did your wish come true?”

Dan scoffs. “I didn’t even wish for anything.”

Phil cocks his eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“Because I’ve already gotten everything that I could have wished for.”

[danfanciesphil]

L’Histoire de L’Amour (A L’Histoire Française EPILOGUE)

If you haven’t already, I strongly recommend reading my fic L’Histoire Française (a teacher!phan au) before reading this! It will improve your enjoyment by far.

Happy Valentine’s Day to each and every one of you that read L’Histoire, I hope you have an awesome Feb 14th no matter who you spend it with. Like it or not, you are all my Valentines and this is my Vday gift to you!!

Read it HERE on Ao3!! 

Shout out to my ultimate Valentine Nova, aka @manschester for being my beautiful beta! I love you to bits, but you know that ;) xxx

I hope you enjoy it.

Love, Ellen xxx

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

For years, Dan had written February 14th off as a fool’s holiday. He’d never looked forward to celebrating it. The cards and gifts he saw in shops seemed cheap and tacky. Pink and red clashed awfully, in his opinion.

On Valentine’s Day of 2018, however, Dan wakes up in Paris.

He wakes in an embrace, cocooned in a safe, familiar warmth. He wakes with someone he loves, in the city they’d fallen for one another.

Last year, Dan had spent the day with Stephanie, his ex. Whilst the day had been far from a total disaster, it would be a stretch to say he’d particularly enjoyed himself. Stephanie had a lot of preconceived notions about exactly how Dan should behave on that particular holiday, based on the behaviour of her previous boyfriends.

Under her instruction, Dan had booked a table for the two of them at one of the restaurants she had told him would be appropriate to pick. He’d bought her a bouquet of red roses - his initial idea to buy wildflowers had been wrong, apparently - and selected the schmaltsiest card in the store.  

He got in a bit of trouble for not adding a personal enough message, but Stephanie soon forgot, more focused on updating her Instagram story than on Dan himself. She also received a cuddly toy with a loveheart pattern on its fur, and a charm bracelet. Dan had been so out of his depth when choosing these gifts that he’d actually needed to ask Stephanie’s sister for help. So, in a way, none of the Valentine’s Day stuff he did had anything to do with him.

This year, he hasn’t gained much more control over the day itself, but the difference is palpable.This year, Dan is giddy with excitement. He looks forward to the fourteenth for weeks. He counts down from the beginning of February, setting a reminder on his phone each day, so that he knows how many days are left.

Phil notices this one Saturday morning, seeing the notification pop up on Dan’s screen as they’re laying in bed. He laughs for twelve minutes (Dan counts) and tells Dan it’s adorable. He kisses the embarrassment off of Dan’s face, assuring him that it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

Honestly, Dan feels like he can’t be blamed for his excitement. Phil has booked them a trip to Paris. And not in some crummy hostel this time. There will be no hoards of difficult, rowdy teenagers, nor a figure of father-like authority to chaperone them. They’ll have one bed, all to themselves, and a whole three days of free time to explore the beauty of the city in a way they couldn’t before.

When the sun rises on the morning of Valentine’s Day, it pours, treacly and gold, through the glass doors of Dan and Phil’s hotel room, washing over Dan, burrowed beneath the duvet. Last night, when he saw the view through those windows, he’d refused to allow Phil to close the curtains. It’s not every day one is able to look out and see the Eiffel Tower, twinkling on the dark horizon.

As he drifted into sleep, he stared out at it, near breathless with wonderment.

The sun weaves into the slits between Dan’s eyelids, pulling him into the world of wakefulness once more. He smiles, lazy and happy, as he takes in the sight of the Parisian skyline beyond the glass in front of him, every bit as gorgeous as it is on the delicate tattoo etched onto Phil’s skin.

The doors open onto a balcony, a typically French affair, complete with a gilt black railing, which is currently frosted with a thick coating of snow.

After a moment of staring, Dan turns slowly, dragging his eyes from the incredible view out of the windows, to an even more fantastical sight. Phil, next to him, eyes fluttering as he swims up from the depths of whatever dream he’s submerged in. He blinks awake, sleepy and languorous, a smile melting across his mouth; arms tighten around Dan’s waist.

“Morning,” Dan murmurs, already rapturous. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Phil makes a noise of contentment, falling towards Dan and pushing their lips together. The kiss is soft with sleep, and on the verge of being too warm. There’s a hint of stubble on Phil’s chin, and Dan drags his skin against it, wanting to remind himself of how lucky he is, to be able to feel the imperfection of Phil’s unshaven jaw against his.

“H’ppy V’lentines,” Phil murmurs back.

His hands are skimming up and down Dan’s bare back. To demonstrate just how much he  appreciates that sensation, Dan presses himself against Phil’s chest, slipping his tongue into the kiss. He can feel the responding rumble of laughter as it vibrates deep within Phil’s chest.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Dan complains, finding the hem of Phil’s baggy t-shirt and slipping his hands beneath it, rucking it up around his waist. “Valentine’s Day should be a no-pyjamas-allowed occasion.”

“Oh r’lly,” Phil drawls, thumb pinging the waistband of Dan’s Calvin Klein’s. “Does this rule apply to you as well, Mr Howell?”

Dan nods enthusiastically, already shimmying the offending garment over his bum with one hand. He gets them off and kicks the briefs away, sending them deep into the folds of the thick quilt.

He quickly moves to help Phil strip off too, hands frantic and fumbling as they tug and grapple with the material. Phil just chuckles against his mouth, amused by Dan’s eagerness, but welcoming of it too.

He presses some soft, open-mouthed kisses against Dan’s neck, his breath hot against the sensitive area, making Dan squirm. Phil’s hands have found their way down to Dan’s bum, and he’s squeezing it in his big palms, pulling Dan towards him so he can grind them together.

Dan slips his thigh between Phil’s legs, canting his hips up until Phil moans, until he’s sinking his teeth into Dan’s throat.

“Give me ten thousand hickeys,” Dan says, breathless. “We’re not at school for another three days, just go for it.”

Phil doesn’t respond in words, but does as he’s told nonetheless, sucking and biting over the skin of Dan’s neck. He rolls Dan onto his back and leans over him, pushing Dan’s head to the side with a sure but gentle hand, so he can gain better access to the area.

Dan gasps, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the soft, slippery sheets of this fancy king size bed. His fingers find the grooves of Phil’s shoulder blades, and he grabs on, as if they were handles specifically crafted for him to cling to.

He can feel how hard Phil has become, can feel the weighty length of him as it presses, urgent and wanting, against Dan’s thigh. Without thinking, he reaches down, wrapping his hand around it.

He can feel the stutter Phil chokes out as he feels this. He stops sucking for a moment, just breathing hard into the crook of Dan’s neck.

“You have such soft hands,” he murmurs, the words slurred. “They feel so good.”

“Wanna feel something even better?”

Phil draws backwards a little, looking Dan in the eye. He’s squinting, because he hasn’t got his contacts in, and just knowing this one, tiny fact is fantastic enough to prompt a fizz of elation in Dan’s stomach. He grins up at Phil, kissing him soundly, once, before rolling them over, landing on top of him.

He throws the covers backwards, exposing their naked bodies to the chilly air of the room. It makes Phil gasp, but Dan doesn’t let himself feel too guilty. Neither of them are going to be cold for long.

He kisses down Phil’s chest, going quickly because he’s impatient, and besides - this is something he loves doing. As soon as he realises what’s happening, Phil groans, one hand flying up to plunge into his shock of bed hair.

In the past couple of months since he and Phil started dating, Dan has gotten a lot better at this. It had never been something he expected he would particularly enjoy, at least no more than going down on girls, but to his surprise, it’s become something of a kink for him. He’s not sure if the fact that it’s Phil in particular that makes the act more of a turn on than if it were another, random man. No matter the reason, though, going down on Phil is such a pleasurable activity, that Dan seizes almost any opportunity to do it.

This, for obvious reasons, is not always entirely appropriate. They’ve only done it at school once, and Phil had been so terrified of someone walking in that he hadn’t even finished, but it had still been exciting. Later, once Valentine’s Day is out of the way, and things have settled down, Dan’s planning on trying that again.

Nobody ever comes in to Phil’s classroom at break times anyway.

Once he’s slipped his mouth over Phil’s erection, a sense of confidence floods Dan’s body, and he sinks down, the gears of his muscle memory whirring into life as his mouth and throat relax in order to accommodate him. That’s another point that Dan has previously considered - that perhaps the size of his boyfriend’s equipment has an impact on how incredibly hot Dan finds this.

He sinks down, feeling his throat muscles quivering as they struggle to accept the girth of Phil, but persevering nonetheless. He bobs his head, settling into a steady rhythm. Phil twitches and moans, his hips stuttering, as if he’s trying to prevent himself from thrusting forwards. Dan wishes he wouldn’t bother; he finds it even hotter when Phil loses control.

He can hear the curses falling from Phil’s lips. They’re French curse words, but Dan has long ago learned to recognise them for what they are.

“Merde, oh, putain...Dan...”

Phil only swears when he’s getting close to coming, so Dan pulls off, crawling back over him in order to seal their mouths together.

“Baise-moi,” Dan whispers into Phil’s ear, knowing that this one, filthy phrase never fails to get Phil ridiculously worked up.

Just as expected, Phil groans, long and tortured, shoving two fingers into Dan’s mouth. Obediently, Dan sucks on them, being deliberately sloppy, and Phil watches him with wide, unblinking eyes, his pupils blown. He probably can’t see more than a blurred image of Dan’s general form, but even so, Dan gives it all he’s got.

Phil pulls his fingers free with a pop, pressing them without preamble against the spot between Dan’s cheeks, slipping a finger into Dan immediately. Dan hisses, clenching around the intrusion. They should probably be using lube, but Dan knows that Phil is only bypassing this step because it’s been less than twelve hours since he had Dan spread out on his fingers in this very bed.

He’d fingered Dan last night when they got to the room, exhausted as they both were from a day of travel. They’d checked in to the posh hotel Phil had booked for them, climbed the stairs to their room, and immediately hopped into the walk-in shower together. They’d washed the grime of two stations and several hours of Eurostar off one another under the stream, and fallen, wrapped in pristine, white fluffy towels, onto the enormous bed. It had taken about ten seconds of Phil eyeing Dan, naked in only a towel, to be pulling it off him, slicking up his fingers, and fucking him with them until he saw stars.

“Don’t worry,” Dan chokes out now, as Phil slips a third finger in. “I’m ready, just fuck me.”

Phil hesitates, seeming unsure, so Dan takes it upon himself to wrap a hand around Phil’s length, positioning him, before sinking down into his lap. It seems to punch the air straight out of Phil’s lungs. Hands clutch at Dan’s hips, fingers digging deeply into the flesh. Phil tosses his head back, gasping for a breath, and Dan just closes his eyes, heart thrumming as he feels Phil sliding into him.

He rocks himself down, wanting to draw Phil deeply, to fill himself up. He sets up a slow, careful rhythm, drawing out the bliss of this moment. The two of them, joined so intimately, tucked away in their room in the midst of the sprawling city of love, on the morning of the day that celebrates the same.

“Oh, fuck,” Dan moans as the tip drags across his prostate. “Fuck, Phil, je t’aime.”

He can feel Phil’s surprise in the judder of his hips. “J-je t’aime aussi, Dan.”

“I really, really love you,” Dan gasps out, speeding up his movements now.

Phil moans, his hands skimming up Dan’s sides. He moves one hand into Dan’s lap, takes hold of his erection in one fist, making Dan groan.

“I know, Dan,” Phil assures him, hand moving in sure, deliberate strokes. “I think you might be the love of my life.”

Dan comes as soon as the words leave Phil’s mouth, and he bows forwards, his whole body wracked with a spasm as the lightning bolt of ecstasy jolts through him. His hands fall to Phil’s chest, and he continues thrusting himself down, wanting to elongate the instant, to send Phil tumbling into this euphoria along with him.

Phil follows moments later, muttering something in French as he shoves himself deeper inside of Dan, burrowing into the heat, his hands clutching tightly.

When it’s over, they fall onto the mattress beside one another, exhausted and elated, the hum of pleasure still skimming across their skin.

“Hmm, an excellent way to begin this day,” Dan says in approval, letting his eyes fall closed for a moment, just basking in the afterglow.

Phil laughs turning to face him. There’s a soft, rosy colour to his pale cheeks. Dan leans in to kiss it, smiling. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

Dan’s eyebrows shoot up his head, interested. “Oh?”

“I’ve got a whole plethora of Valentines activities in store for you, Danny boy.”

“You… have?”

“Oh yes,” Phil says, grinning. “We should probably get up, in fact. We need to get started.”

Dan can only watch in bewilderment as Phil swings his legs out of the bed, walking towards the bathroom, a slight sway in his hips as he goes.

*

Phil had not been lying when he’d spoken of a full, activity-packed day.

At the end of it, Dan collapses, completely spent, onto the bed in which he’d woken up so wonderfully that morning, and slings his forearm over his eyes - a vague attempt to block out the bright ceiling light.

Merciful, sweet Adonis that he is, Phil turns the dimmer switch down, smiling. As he feels the sweet sensation of Phil laying down beside him, Dan makes a sound of approval, and tucks himself into Phil’s side.

Laughing, Phil pushes his fingers into Dan’s curls, stroking gently. “I wore you out,” he says.

“You fucking did,” Dan agrees.

He’s seconds away from unconsciousness, he can tell. It’s unfortunate, because initially he’d been expecting a passion-filled Valentine’s night. He’d wondered about the various different things he could expect, sexually speaking, on this extra-romantic holiday.

Knowing Phil, there were probably some things planned.

It will just have to wait though, Dan tells his overtired brain, disappointing though that is. He can ask Phil to extend their Valentine’s Day through to tomorrow. There’d be no reason for the older man to object that Dan can think of.

“Did you have a good Valentine’s Day, at least?”

Dan peels his eyes open, horrified that Phil would even need to ask. He frowns up at Phil’s face, trying to convey how silly this question is.

“I had the best Valentine’s Day anyone has ever had in the history of Valentine’s Days,” Dan says with total honesty. “Was that not obvious?”

A smile slides across Phil’s mouth. “What was your favourite part?”

“Hmm,” Dan says sarcastically, his head dropping onto Phil’s chest. “There’s not much to choose from, is there? The private dinner for two on a boat ride down the Seine? Champagne and chocolate tasting in Montmartre? Sneaking past the guards to kiss Oscar Wilde’s tomb? You, recreating our trip to the Eiffel Tower by buying me every single red rose in sight?”

“Yeah,” Phil says with a dramatic sigh. “I see what you mean. I could’ve done better, really. I’ll up my game next year, I swear.”

The smile spreads like warm honey across Dan’s face, stretching and growing until he feels a laugh of pure joy bubbling in his throat. He tilts his face up to look at Phil, knowing that he probably looks like a lunatic, and that his dimples are undoubtedly deep caverns in his cheeks, but he doesn’t care.

This mad, beautiful, incredible man loves him. He loves him so much that he took this day, and used it as an excuse to lavish Dan with an absurd amount of romance. He spoiled Dan in a way he’s never experienced, he poured such thick, syrupy love all over him that Dan is sure he’ll never be able to swim free.

And he never wants to. He’ll happily drown in it, happily drink it all down, sickly sweet as it is. He loves Phil so much in return that he thinks his heart could burst from it. It often seems to be trying - splitting at the seams, bulging with adoration.

He surges up and kisses Phil, shoving the tiredness dragging on his limbs to one side as he flings his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. “Nope,” Dan tells him, speaking the words against Phil’s lips. “L’annee prochaine, c’est mon tour.”

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!! <3

[asforthesoundtrack]

never too late (to be brand new)

summary: It's the final show of the tour, but that doesn't mean everything has to end. Maybe, just maybe, Dan and Phil both have a few tricks up their sleeves.

rating: G

word count: 1527

warnings: minor ii spoilers

A/N: This fic was written for @phandomficfests tour fest! Huge thanks to Sana and Katie (@cutie-with-booty and @knlalla) for whipping this fic into shape! Ily guys!! <3

This is also a companion fic to Alexis' (@lilacskylester) tour fic, which you can find here! Happy reading!

Read on ao3

Five months. Five whole months they've been on tour together. Five months of seeing the world with Dan.

If Phil was a sappier man, he'd say he didn't need to see the world--he had it all right next to him. Even if Dan would point his finger down his throat and aim a gentle shove at Phil, his eyes rolling up to the stratosphere. But he'd be smiling too.

Tonight, though, it's all coming to an end. There's a part of Phil that's bone-shakingly terrified. Somehow, even the crazy routine of touring had grown to be a comfort these past five months. How is he supposed to go back to filming and occasional meetings and rough days at home when they've experienced the highest highs the world has to offer? What if the sudden end of everything turns Dan into a zombie again, finding his life void of meaning and becoming nothing more than a ghost to Phil? Of course, things have gotten better now, but Phil can't help his chest seizing with a worry that trickles all through his veins and locks his muscles tight.

Despite all that, though, Phil’s still smiling. How could he not, when there’s an electricity pulsing through everybody in this place?

Especially when he remembers what he’d tucked in their shared backpack early that morning.

“You’re awfully bouncy today,” Dan remarks from his place on the couch. Phil shoves his legs aside to squeeze in next to him, close but not too close. The door could open at any moment. Unfortunately. Infuriatingly.

Understandably.

“Bouncy? Like your curls?” Phil giggles. Instinctually, his fingers travel up to the slight mess of floof atop Dan’s head. His hair is as soft as ever, and warm from the massive lights they’d just finished their afternoon hug fest underneath. God is Phil dying to crawl back to their hotel room, where he can shovel down disturbing amounts of Indian food before they end this tour the only way they know how.

Their secret moments almost make the long wait worth it, though. Almost.

Dan hums, soft as a cat and just as fluffy with that black jumper that somehow hasn’t shed all over Phil yet. “Mmmm, a lot bouncier, I’d say. You’re really not sad it’s the last day? Or,” Dan bites his lip, “scared, maybe?”

“Oh my god, of course I’m terrified.” It’s a dizzying relief to let those words out. Even if they hang heavy in the air for that moment. “But the scary stuff comes later. Right now, we’ve gotta focus on giving the most ass-kickingest show of this whole tour. That shouldn’t be too hard at this point, right?”

There’s a pause, then Phil adds, “Are you scared, Dan?”

A much longer pause follows, stretching so far that Phil’s sure someone’s going to knock any second. But the elaborate dressing room remains silent, save for the muffled Brockhampton leaking through the walls.

“Maybe a bit,” Dan finally sighs. “It’s just...weird, you know? Like, how are we supposed to act on camera after giving people such a big slice of the real Dan and Phil? I...I know we said everything was gonna change after this tour, but are we ready for everyone to know that?”

Something about the catch in Dan’s voice, or maybe the countless questions in his wide eyes, brings Phil back to another city, another hushed conversation on a massive hotel bed.

The roles may have been reversed then, but just as Dan promised, everything had turned out fine. Phil’s late-April worries almost feel silly to him now.

“Dan?” Phil’s heart is in his throat but he grabs Dan’s hands anyway, squeezes them as tight as Dan had after their first two shows. Sure enough, a startled pair of brown eyes catches Phil’s searching gaze. “Dan, do you remember what you said to me that very first night? How nobody will ever know this, not unless we want them to?”

Dan nods slowly. Phil feels like his chest might just crack open.

“Nothing’s changed since then. We’re learning to live with it, one step at a time. That’s enough, yeah?”

The warmth that trickles through Phil at the sight of Dan’s soft smile is intoxicating. There’s a light glowing behind his eyes that becomes a fire even as Phil drops his hands and scooches a safe distance away on the cushy dark red and gold sofa.

Perfect timing, too, as a sharp knock sounds from behind the door, which immediately opens to reveal Marianne and about four other crew members with headsets and clipboards, two of them wielding makeup brushes and heading straight for the men on the couch. Everything moves at triple speed then. In seconds, it feels, he and Dan are standing on their platforms for the last time (the last time). Even amidst the tiny fissures opening in his heart, Phil finds the strength to plaster on a real smile after sucking in a deep breath. It helps that Dan’s smiling bigger than he’s done all day.

The show becomes a cacophony of bangs and screams and squeals in Phil’s mind, but there’s a beauty inside the madness. Phil would swear they’d just stepped onstage when he’s watching Dan zip up the white suit and Phil’s unlatching the straps on the wheel. Taylor Swift blasts just beyond them as Phil pushes the white wooden stool towards Dan with his foot, heart pulsing in time with the music. There isn’t time for the nostalgia to fully latch on, though. Thankfully.

Which is good, because Phil swears he would have fallen off the stage during the “Going Deep” segment were his mind not fully here.

Maybe he should’ve seen this coming, from the smirk creeping up Dan’s face when he chose this question, or all the grilling he’d given Phil before the show. Dan knew Phil had something planned, despite Phil’s best attempt at a poker face. But the writhing in his gut that had been growing ever more frenzied since the interval drops away as soon as he hears Dan break away from their hastily scribbled notes.

“So, Lia,” Dan continues, after explaining how terrified he was to leave behind everything he’d known for Manchester and how much it helped to have a friend waiting there for him. His left foot taps against the bottom of the stage, the pace of the rhythm steadily increasing. “I think it’s clear we both had a hard time adjusting to living away from our families. But sometimes, you find someone you click with, and…” he twists toward Phil with the biggest shit eating grin Phil’s ever seen, “well...things kinda work out and you end up getting a few flats together and then a house and a dog!”

The response is enormous. But not nearly as big as what comes a minute later.

“Yes, you heard that right,” Dan shouts as the initial screaming dies down. “It’s been a slow process, and it’s been so hard to keep from you guys--” It really hasn’t!, Phil wants to scream yet to his credit, he does keep his mouth shut-- “but during our breaks on this tour, Phil and I have been moving into the fixer-upper we bought all the way back in 2017. A...well, we sure hope for it to be a forever home, anyway.”

Phil’s extra grateful for his earpieces in this moment. Really, he’s shocked the screams don’t blow the extravagant roof off.

Dan scrambles to his feet after a few seconds, the sudden movement ending most of the screeches and snapping Phil back to attention. Shit.Everyone’s going to know Dan totally just sprung this on him. Well, a thrill rushes down Phil’s spine, two can play at this game.

“We’ve even got our corgi, Loki, picked out and everything!” Dan flings his arm towards the giant screen and there, right there, is the teeny tan and white fluffball, blown to monstrous proportions. He’s rolling in the grass at his foster parents’ home, tongue lolling out in the most precious of doggy smiles. Phil’s heart stutters to a stop, then leaps at the sight of the puppy that will be theirs in just a couple weeks. Theirs.

Hold on...Dan got the crew in on this too? Holy shit.

Phil blinks rapidly. “You mean Thor, ” he finally cuts in, shooting Dan what he hopes is a challenging grin but what’s almost definitely just soft and goofy.

“No, Phil,” Dan giggles. “I think we agreed that Loki was far cuter, remember?”

It’s almost impossible for Phil to pout, he’s smiling so much. “Alright, I guess. But you’re taking him on all his walks. And cleaning up after his accidents.”

If there’s a feeling beyond exhilaration, this must be it. The buzzing in his veins, the lightness of his chest and the happy dance inside his stomach all combine into something so intensely intoxicating Phil almost can’t see straight.

There’s no way anything could top this. Right?

Well, actually, Phil thinks as he shoves a tiny velvet box in his pocket just before donning his hat and sunglasses and jumping back out to the stage, maybe something might.

[asforthesoundtrack]

just this once

summary: Phil can be very convincing when he wants to be. Even when they’re at the pet store.

rating: T

word count: 425

A/N: written for @phandomficfests pet flash fest!

Read on ao3

“Dandandan!”

Dan sighs. That gasp, not to mention the giggle that trickles out right after, never does fail to make his heart skip a beat. But he can hold his resolve against those puppy dog eyes...right?

He turns away from a selection of bright chew toys, sucking in a breath. Sure enough, Phil’s eyes have turned the corner from pathetic to near ridiculousness. The way he’s biting his lip, though? That shouldn’t be allowed.

Phil dances a tiny blue jumper closer and closer to Dan’s face until it boops him in the nose, the smell of fresh fabric briefly replacing the overpowering rodent stench. Dan shakes his head but he can’t fight the smile twitching across his face.

“Phil. Babe. Loki doesn’t need another jumper, he’ll rip the damn thing off!”

“But it’s got ducks, Dan. Tiny little duckli--”

“No, Phil.”

There’s a pout. Then Phil wraps his hand around Dan’s bicep, fingers rubbing up and down. Shit.

“Daaaaaannnn.”

Even the birds have ceased their chattering for a second. Or maybe it’s blocked by the blood pounding in Dan’s ears. This fucker.

No. Just tell him no.

But of course Dan’s mouth betrays him. “Alright. We can get the damn duck jumper, you spoon. But just this once.”

“Yay!!” Has the shop grown brighter, or is that just the radiance bursting from Phil’s grin? Something leaps and wiggles around in Dan’s chest. It makes him want to latch himself onto Phil and never let go. But of course there’s people around. Shop workers, other customers...anyone could notice them.

But that doesn’t mean he can’t trail his fingers down Phil’s arm, however quickly. Right?

Dan should have known their “quick stop” would end this way, bags weighed down with fabric-covered toys that’ll be torn to shreds in weeks and enough jumpers and booties for their shiba inu to have his own fashion show. Their haul stinks of the “best” treats too, but Dan doesn’t mind. Because when the April sun hits his face, it lights a fire in Dan’s heart that burns all the way home, from the car park of the shopping centre, to the tube, all the way down to their street, and it’s beautiful.

Maybe he can’t hold onto it forever. But as Phil turns the key and the two are greeted by a whirl of brown and white fur smashing straight into Dan’s legs, Dan thinks that just maybe this feeling can stay a little bit longer.

After all, there’s no better mood booster than the perfect dog, right?

[asforthesoundtrack]

fic: of sparkles and hair flips

summary: The story behind two photos that broke the phandom (and the moments that Dan and Phil wouldn't trade for the world).

rating: T

word count: 1600

warnings: hints of anxiety

a/n: written for @phandomficfests spring/new beginnings fest! huge thank you to @lilacskylester for betaing and her overall awesome support!

Read on ao3

“Wh--”

Whoa doesn’t begin to cover Dan’s feelings upon seeing this lift. Not even the golden doors could have prepared him for the beauty that lay within.

Spirals of wood, shinier than the sequins on his jacket, and a full-length mirror greet him and Phil as they step onto plush blue carpet. The slightly domed ceiling rises far above both their heads, a feat that pulls Dan’s lips into a grateful smile.

After the week they’ve had, it’s a miracle his brain has enough happy chemicals buzzing around to provide this feeling at all.

It occurs to him why this place is called the Palace Theatre.

“Dan, oh my--Dan. ” Phil’s gasp, soft as it is, gives Dan a start. He’d forgotten he was there. “Your jacket is stunning under this light. You’re stunning. Can I take a picture, please?”

A pillow settles inside Dan’s chest and it’s all he can do to breathe deep enough around it. He can feel Phil’s eyes searching him as he tugs the sleeve of his jacket and rubs his thumb along the expensive sequins. Him, stunning? He sure as hell doesn’t feel it.

They’ve been stopped on the ground level for a few seconds and far away, there’s a raucous peal of laughter and nails getting drilled into wood. Part of Dan wants to push the button to open the doors again and he almost reaches a finger out, preparing his most authentic apologetic smile.

Then he recalls the enchantment he felt upon entering, how it pushed the worries of the day out of his mind and far away from him for the most glorious of seconds. He tears his eyes away from the wall and nearly dissolves into giggles upon glimpsing Phil’s puppy dog eyes.

He slides his phone from his pocket.

“Alright. But you’re using my camera.”

Phil’s joy is almost contagious.

There’s a pause, a moment of uncertainty where Dan flicks his eyes to the doors perhaps one too many times, his hands and gut clenching at every distant footstep and snatch of conversation outside. They shouldn’t even be here to begin with. What if someone else needed this lift? What if they missed the tube, and the next one wouldn’t come for ages? Dan’s been here for five and a half years, why the fuck didn’t he have the tube schedule memorised?

“Dan? You ready?” It’s a gentle question, but Phil’s eyes are heavy with concern. Something pulls Dan’s back ramrod straight, though, tugs his teeth away from his lip. Deep breaths. There’s nothing but you and Phil right now. Nothing in the world.

A sea of unamused faces swims before him, but Dan shoves it away with a strength he didn’t even know he had.

Someone, somewhere is gonna love this show. Even if someone else doesn’t get it. You’ve worked way too fucking hard for this.

He turns this way and that, focused on the large round light above them and how his sparkles reflect off of it. Maybe they can illuminate his face too. Goodness knows he could use it after this ridiculous winter.

He settles on throwing Phil his better side, smoothing and fidgeting with his jacket and the grey shirt underneath. Is his hair sitting right?

“Back straight, Dan. You own this lift. And keep your hand on your jacket, it gives you a really nice silhouette.”

Dan blushes, a true smile cracking across his face for the first time in what feels like hours. Sure enough, just standing tall parts a few of the clouds that never seem to leave his head these days. It’s a miracle.

He turns his head, wiping his face of all emotion besides deep, despairing concentration. Phil’s sharp intake of breath rocks through the entire lift.

“Perfect, ” Phil murmurs. Something glows deep in Dan’s chest. It’s not enough to break through the tightness, but it helps.

Even Dan has to admit that Phil’s photos are breathtaking. And that’s before any editing. That camera is a godsend.

Dan’s messed around with selfie mode before, but never in a space with such perfect lighting as this. He snaps a few unassuming photos, adjusting effects here and there, then…

Is that an actual contour on his jaw? On an underchin shot, no less?

Screw Phil, Dan’s marrying this effect designer.

Speaking of…

“Jesus christ, Dan. If we didn’t have a damn tube to catch…”

The suggestion dripping from Phil’s voice is almost enough to wreck Dan right there. He sucks in a breath in an attempt to stem the growing tightness in his jeans.

“Rain check?” Dan peers up at Phil beneath his eyelashes, a sudden crash from deep in the theatre turning him shy again.

“Only if you’re wearing that jacket.” Phil bumps their sides together, twisting his fingers amongst Dan’s and squeezing for just a second before grinning with a kind of giddiness Dan didn’t think was possible, even for Phil.

It sparks something in Dan. Something like glorious spring sunshine on his face, but better. So much better.

Those clouds may hover at the edges wherever he goes. That’s never going to change.

But maybe, with Phil at his side, he can greet this tour with his head held high and only the best kinds of butterflies in his stomach.

**

It’s funny how Phil can get so sick of cameras when his job is literally talking to them.

Maybe he smacked Dan’s hand a little too hard when his fingers started creeping towards Phil’s phone. But can Dan really blame him?

They’re both so damn exhausted. And it’s not like the next six months are gonna be any easier.

Dan pushes the fringe off Phil’s forehead with the softest of touches, letting his fingers linger near Phil’s ear for a second. Phil stiffens. He darts his eyes all around but the photographers are busy packing up their tripods. Even Marianne’s gaze is trained on a stack of papers she’s tapping a pen against.

Alright, maybe Phil can melt into his touch. But just a little.

“Fucking hell, Phil. Have I told you how much I love your quiff this week?”

“Mmm, have you? I can’t seem to remember,” Phil giggles. Dan rolls his eyes and Phil quirks his eyebrows in response. It’s all he can do not to reach out and take Dan’s hand in both of his. Phil’s always taken so much joy in seeing Dan’s eyes shining like this.

It’s even better when he’s the cause of it.

He bumps their shoulders together, praying nobody notices. It’s stupid, how he can’t always scream his love for Dan from the rooftops. How he has to watch his every action around everyone besides their closest friends and family. But it would be a thousand times worse if the entire world had their say on this.

Besides, nobody needs to know, do they? These moments, the ones where the conversation flows through shared glances and gentle touches—these are all theirs. Who could begin to understand?

Dan’s gaze has dropped to Phil’s phone again. Something pulls at Phil’s heart. Maybe they have been posing all day, and maybe Phil is exhausted.

But maybe he can make an exception. Just this once.

“You want a photo? Something to remember this fleeting moment by?” Phil asks softly.

“I think the world needs to remember this moment.”

Phil’s stomach clenches for a second. But then he catches hold of Dan’s gaze, wide and pleading and only for Phil and, well...he can’t say no to that bitten-back smile, can he?

“Alright. But if I have to do any dumb poses, I swear to god, Howell…”

“Now why would I make you do that?” Dan’s entire face is twinkling and lord, is it beautiful. There’s a laugh bubbling up and up, pushing at the edges of Phil’s lips and cutting into his cheeks. If it was any other time, he’d let it tumble out, allow the room to fill with his happiness. But he can’t bring himself to burst this happy little bubble of himself, Dan, a couple of squishy grey benches, and a light blue backdrop.

A few giggles trickle out anyway. Damn that lovely creature.

Dan pulls his bench to face Phil, picking it up and setting it back down gently to keep from screeching against the tile. Does he feel this sacred little bubble encasing them, too? Phil straightens his back and throws out his best smile.

Or what he hopes is his best smile.

“Natural smile, b--” Dan quickly scans the giant room, then lowers his voice. “Relax your face muscles...There we go.”

How did Dan manage to look so aloof and...godlike in his photos? Is Phil holding himself right? He doesn’t have any tension in his face, does he? God, why did he think this was a good idea to begin with? Especially after the week--hell, after the month they’ve had.

Astoundingly, though, Dan turns Phil’s phone back to him after just a few posture changes. That massive grin’s gotta be good news, right?

“Dan. Jesus christ, I...I actually look good. How did you do that?”

Dan tucks his chin to his chest. “Portrait mode is your new best friend. Well--” he bites his lip, “second best friend.”

Phil rolls his eyes, his stomach snapping and popping with possibility. Pretty soon, the world will be introduced to a quiffed Phil. A permanently quiffed Phil.

A new tour. A new Phil. (A new house, soon.) But always with the same old Dan beside him, through it all.

Phil can’t think of a better--if delayed--start to their 2018.

[asforthesoundtrack]

title: (you’re my) pooh bear

summary: Dan likes to hold something (or someone) while he sleeps.

rating: G

word count: 422

warnings: none

written for @phandomficfests napping day flash fic fest!

Read on ao3

“Give Daniel his Pooh Bear and he’ll sleep all day.”

That’s what his parents always said the rare times they had guests over, or more often, when his mum would cradle the phone between her ear and shoulder while dancing said plushie before his chubby cheeks.

Even as a toddler, Dan caught on pretty quickly. He’d bounce on his toes, tiny fingers reaching up, up, up until they wrapped around his favourite toy and he hugged the worn yellow bear to his chest.

Sometimes he’d run off with Pooh held out like a superhero, whispering questions to his closest friend, would you care for a crumpet, Pooh Bear, or perhaps a honey biscuit? Shall we pay Piglet a visit today?

It always ended with Dan curled up somewhere, be it the kitchen floor, the carpeted stairs at his nan’s, the sheltered nook of the hallway just before the bathroom door—anywhere he could fit, with his precious Pooh Bear clung to his chest like a lifesaver.

His mum would smile as she carried him to bed, butterflies tap-dancing in her stomach as she wondered just what Daniel would do when he couldn’t fold himself into those tiny spots anymore.

**

There’s something about those last lingering moments of sleepiness that turns Phil more than human in Dan’s eyes. More than ethereal, even.

It squeezes Dan’s heart to the point of aching. Out of every speck of dust on this sad hunk of rock they call home, he was Phil’s.

And Phil was his.

His.

Maybe it’s been the week from hell but moments like this remind Dan what’s worth living for. Wrapping his arms tighter around Phil’s chest, burying his nose in soft cotton and feeling the fissures in his chest slowly mend. Breathing in Phil’s warmth and sinking into a mattress far firmer than anything from his childhood.

Phil’s a bit squishier, a lot more to wrap his arms around than Dan was used to.

But Dan has room to spread himself out, even if all he wants is to engulf himself in Phil’s languid form. Tiny strings of sunlight poke through the blinds and dance across Phil’s skin like gossamer threads. Dan thinks he might cry, if his eyelids weren’t so heavy. And so, so sleepy…

“Mmmm, bear,” Phil murmurs, and Dan pulls him closer, his own personal teddy bear.

Maybe it’s just a stupid childhood nickname, but hearing it from Phil makes Dan think just maybe, things will be alright.

After all, naps heal all wounds, don’t they?