hello!! I was wondering if you knew this fic: dan and phil are spies pretending to be married and adopting a child for a mission investigating an orphanage/adoption centre. I think pewdiepie was there as a higher-ranking agent. They lived in a flat together which they check for computerised bugs every night. There was also a gala held by the owners of the orphanage and the bad guy ended up being the owner's brother i think?? I've been trying to find it myself but no such luck :( thank you!!
I wish that it could be like that, why can’t it be like that, because I’m y o u r s
fic based off “Secret Love Song” by Little Mix, and a lil bit of a prologue to Love Wins;
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He knows the answer’s no before he even reaches out, and it’s the warning glance that constantly kills him, wilting him from the inside. Phil brushes his pinky against Dan’s, quick enough to be accidental, and when Dan instinctively flinches away, he can’t help feeling the tiniest bit hurt, even though it’s expected, he knows that this isn’t allowed.
The lingering eye contact that murmurs an apology that neither of them can say anything about. Barely any particles of air between their shoulders, but still there’s a glass wall distancing them from each other, Dan completely untouchable even as he’s right there, his hand swinging and slightly curled, and Phil wants nothing more than to reach out and lace his fingers with his.
He wishes so, so hard that there was a world where Dan wouldn’t mind that he just wants to loop an arm around his waist, to slip his hand in his back pocket, that even looking at him didn’t have to be a matter of measured time before he had to drop it again, a constant cycle of not allowed, not allowed, not allowed.
Phil wishes there was a universe where he didn’t have to care about his every action, where Dan had to be held at an arms length constantly. That best friend would meld effortlessly with boyfriend, and there’d be no consequences, no questions to answer. Maybe someday, he thinks. Someday, years away even, when he could vlog them in the same bed and have nothing to worry about, that he could kiss Dan and he wouldn’t have to edit it out. Maybe he could finally stop creeping around to visit Dan’s family, which, god, he loves like they were his own. And maybe they wouldn’t have to screen themselves from as soon as curtains weren’t drawn, and touches didn’t have to be stolen. He dreams of the day he can tap his hand and Dan’ll hold it instead of shying away.
He knows Dan does too. But there’ll be a time to talk about it, and it wasn’t now. For now, he just curls his fingers back towards himself and clamps his lips shut as he stares straight ahead at the wet pavement, skin shivering and palms cold.
--
Dan’s suit shifts uncomfortably under him, cinema seat too compressed, too tight to be properly sat in. Next to him, Phil’s pupils reflect the flashing of the Star Wars premiere that he definitely should be watching too, but he’s only just realised that they’re sitting in one of the couple’s seats, the armrest wiggling in its socket as he leans on it.
He lifts the armrest cautiously, and moves subtly so that the people behind him don’t see anything. He leans very slightly against Phil’s shoulder, shrugging off his suit jacket and threading his arms through the sleeves from the front. Phil starts at the sudden pressure against his side, and his arm flickers subconsciously when he sees Dan so close to him, tucked in a way that was very not formal.
He doesn’t say anything, because it’s a movie and he can’t attract attention to them, especially not now, but he looks at him, eyes questioning and fearful despite himself. Dan tugs him down to talk to him.
“Please,” he whispers. “I can’t… focus, and I’m cold, and I promise it’ll just be for a bit and I’ll go back to my seat, just let me do this, Phil, please.”
Phil bites his lip, knowing that everyone’s phones are turned off and so nobody can take a picture of them. And it’s the last place a fan would be, but the tickle of Dan’s hair against his bare neck still sends the flashes of paranoia shooting through him, and his head swim with panic. Dan seems to feel this, the tension under his head tightening, and he draws back again, quickly, away from Phil.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I... sorry.” Dan sits up, his too long legs swinging off the seat again, and he stops fidgeting, fixing his eyes deliberately onto the screen, but he’s not watching at all, his eyes tingling with the threat of stupid tears and his jacket sliding off his shoulders, silky material slipping down his arms.
Phil’s chest tugs as he watches him sit up and pretend that it was okay, stinging with a dull pain as his hand stiffens into the familiar fist, skin tightening as its pulled taut over his knuckles.
“Dan,” he breathes, voice strained in his throat.
Dan turns towards him, and though he can barely see it in the shadowy cinema, the light from the screen as it flashes across Dan’s face tells him everything. I’d tell you it’s okay, Phil, it says. I’d say I’m fine, but I’m really not, because I desperately want to hold you and feel safe, but I can’t”
And Phil wants to cry, because he wants to give Dan what he wants too, but he can’t bring himself to do it, can’t reach his arm across and hug his shaking lover. He would hate himself for it, but he and Dan both know that they don’t have a choice, and so he doesn’t. He lets them keep going on like they both don’t know the other is seconds away from breaking down at their own stubborn control over themselves.
Eventually, Dan shrugs the jacket back onto his shoulders, and by the time credits roll and the lights flit back on, the colour is back in his face, and he’s okay enough to smile at Phil. But it’s all an act, the smile.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” he says. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Phil has to grip the armrest between their seats to keep from following him.
--
The too sweet concoction of the blue ‘Phil’ buzzes around in Dan’s head, the pleasant tingling making his vision swirl headily, so everything seemed bright and fluffy and he’s filled with the sensation of rushed bliss. He steadies himself, grasping at the sleeve of Phil’s expensive shirt. “I’m a lil dizzy,” he says quietly, as their crew is laughing around them, all in their own state of flushed success.
Phil looks sharply down at his hand, and then around them, and he gently takes the drink from him, the hand slipping off his arm as he does so. He places the delicate cup on the bar top, and walks with Dan away from it. “Maybe you shouldn’t drink too much,” he murmurs.
“Thought I deserved the end-of-tour tipsiness,” he giggles, and Phil smiles a little sadly as Dan tries to catch at his hand again, and he has to pull away. “Maybe you should think of your hangover, you know you’re terrible at holding your alcohol.”
“That’s later, Phil,” Dan says breezily. He tugs on his shirt, unbuttoning the top button of his tight collar. Phil holds his wrist to try and stop him, but Dan looks at him under his lashes. “It’s hot, Phil. Not good for you.”
Dan lowers his hand, and music pumps through the moment which they just stare at each other, Dan only wanting to smooth the creases in Phil’s shirt and Phil itching to brush back the wispy strands of his fringe that are out of place from his sweat, to caress his slightly flushed cheek.
“Let’s dance.”
“Dan-”
“There’s no one here, Phil. They’re all talking to themselves, and all the vloggers have gone home.”
“But-”
“No buts,” Dan whispers, looping his arms around Phil’s neck. “We deserve one song at our party.”
Phil knows it’s incredibly against every rule they set down, but he doesn’t stop Dan when he pulls him towards the edges of the golden glow cast by an overhead chandelier. “One song,” he mumbles, and fits his own hands behind Dan’s back, resting on his waist.
They sway to their own beat, because they’re not listening to the music, and they’re not watching anything but the other’s eyes, Dan resting his forehead on Phil’s. He can hear the breaths softly billowing out of his lips, tasting like the sugared tinge to his drink, and Phil presses closer, revelling in the guilty contentment of the contact between them.
“Congratulations to us,” Phil says against his cheek.
Dan shifts his head in agreement, his hair smelling like the raspberry shampoo he still uses after all these years. He lifts his head to meet Phil’s gaze, and they both know what they’re thinking, knows that they’re both watching each others lips and wanting, aching to press them together like they could if they were home.
Dan’s eyes shine under the glistening crystals, and Phil thinks that its incredibly bittersweet that this entire thing is for them, yet they’re the ones who are the most trapped by their actions.
“Later?” Dan says, voice trembling slightly, and Phil lets go, their song, their dance, the one moment that was still a risk even as it ended. He lets go like he’s had to so many times before, and it shows in the shine of his boyfriend’s eyes, the reflection of regret and the unsaid sorry, the presence of which neither of them were quite sure of.
“Later,” Phil tells him. “Promise.”
i don't wanna hide us away
tell the world about the love we're making
i'm living for that day
s o m e d a y
-fin-
a/n;
two fics in a ROW wow esme you really Are On Fire
be sure to let me know what you think!!
last fic (collab with @lesterpeach!!) is here, writing is tagged /esmefics
"pancakesonabus said Hi, idk if tumblr ate my ask but a while ago I asked if you know of a blog like this one but for the ship Larry Stylinson? thanks x" so um you got this ask i think they were trying to ask if you know similar blogs like phanfic catalogue but for the larry ship ^_^ theyre not exactly a larry fic rec blog but theboyfriendstagram has a really wide larry fic library~ larries will love her blog.
