#singer!dan

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself: Chapter 35

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 5.5k story words: 289k (so far) chapter: 35/? rating: e warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression, consensual d/s undertones genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: hello all! apologies for the VERY long wait. i had this chapter in basically this exact same condition a MONTH ago and didn't post because i intended to be nice and add to it. however, i kept NOT, because tbh i'd always planned to end the chapter here, and didn't want to end it here just because of the long wait, and then the wait became longer... and then it became a whole cycle.

but i had an impulsive moment tonight, and basically demanded the ever-lovely elizajane's attention and cleaned it up for posting. i knew i'd just sit on it for ages if i didnt post, and the odds of adding it to it was probably low. now that it's out there, the odds of me moving forward and writing shoot up dramatically haha.

thank you each and every one of you for your never-ending and ever-present support. i love how patient and enthusiastic you are, even when i make you wait literal months for a chapter. my work life has been very hectic lately (i'm applying for a big thing this fall and it's a lot of time and effort and writing), but i promise i'm dedicating actual time in the next week to actually sitting down and sketching out how i want to get from here to the intended ending. i want everyone to experience the ending i have in my head for this fic, and i wanna figure out how to make that happen for all of us. 

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Taking a break from the world and enjoying each other’s company was a wonderful decision. And sure, they had spent half the day working, but they’d been working together. In bed. Alone.

This was a development that Phil was very okay with. For one, working in bed was a lot more comfortable than the chairs at B&G. And while skype calls were better than the coffee shop, where Phil was at least able to sit on his sofa instead of a stiff chair, they didn’t hold a candle to this setup. Because in this new arrangement, Phil had been able to reach out and touch Dan anytime he’d wanted. And Dan could touch him back — in fact, Dan had spent the majority of the day touching him back.

Plus, once they’d finished their work, they’d been able to set computers and journals and pens aside and focus on each other. Three hours, a nap, and another round of making out later, Phil was feeling… content. He couldn’t quite place the feeling. It was domestic and warm, nice in a way he hadn’t ever really experienced before. In a way he very much wanted to experience for as long as possible.

It had been a solid twenty minutes, maybe thirty — Phil couldn’t see the clock from his current position — since Dan had settled in Phil’s arms again, arm looped around Phil’s bare waist, head tucked into Phil’s shoulder. For a while, Dan had been tracing faint, tickling designs on Phil’s side, but somewhere along the way, the movements had stopped. Phil was beginning to wonder if Dan had fallen asleep again. It wouldn’t have been that surprising; in fact, it might have been the only explanation for Dan being this quiet and this still for this long. Quiet and still weren’t exactly Dan’s normal behavior.

Curious, Phil grazed his fingers up and down Dan’s arm, keeping his touch light enough that it wouldn’t wake Dan if he was asleep, but just enough that Dan would still be able to feel it if he was in fact awake. Phil was surprised when Dan let out a quiet hum. Stilling his fingers, Phil turned his head to peek at Dan’s face. His eyes were closed, but his lips were quirked up into a small smile, giving away the fact that he was undoubtedly awake. Awake — and maybe, just maybe, happy. Phil’s mouth twitched up into a small smile of his own — Dan’s happiness made him happy.

“That felt nice,” Dan murmured, just a smidge of petulance in his voice. Phil took the hint and resumed gently stroking Dan’s arm. “Good boy,” Dan mumbled, so quiet that Phil could barely hear him.

Chuckling, Phil bit back a quip about how Dan was the good boy here, because now didn’t seem like the right time for that. Now was too soft of a moment to have a serious conversation about it, and it certainly wasn’t the right moment to… derail with sex. It was too nice. So instead, Phil relaxed quietly and let his fingers draw aimless paths from Dan’s shoulder to his wrist, enjoying the moment.

“This is nice,” Dan murmured again, this time sounding nothing but pleased as he wiggled closer to Phil, his head burrowing ever so slightly deeper into Phil’s shoulder and his grip tightening just a hair.

“It is,” Phil agreed lowly, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the moment.

A beat of silence passed between them, and Phil wondered if Dan was just as reluctant to break the reverie as he was.

But the silence couldn’t last forever — Phil didn’t expect that it could. A few minutes later, Dan was tilting his head up to look at Phil, his eyes already filled with dread. “I’m beginning to feel a bit badly about ignoring the rest of the world, though.” Dan didn’t sound like he felt guilty, his voice the same serene, easy tone as before.

“Get up on the count of three?” Phil offered, stilling his hand on Dan’s bicep.

“I don’t feel that bad,” Dan whined with an exaggerated eyeroll.

Phil giggled at the adorable manchild in his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of Dan’s head, his fingers once again resuming their path. “You can count at whatever pace you want, silly old bear.”

Dan’s gaze softened, and his lips shifted from an immature pout to a playful smirk. “Fine, but we’re starting at negative five,” he compromised smugly, sounding sure that he’d gotten the best of Phil.

“Deal,” Phil agreed readily. His desire to move Dan was half-hearted at best, really only driven by Dan’s ambivalent efforts to get up.

Dan, apparently satisfied with Phil’s response, settled his head back into the crevice of Phil’s neck, and looped his arm snugly around Phil’s stomach. Burrowing his head closer to Phil’s chest, Dan murmured a quiet and unconvincing negative four.

It took Dan fifteen minutes to count to zero, and another ten to get to three. True to their agreement, though, Dan pushed himself up and out of Phil’s arms as he called out the last number. Seeming to capitalize on his momentum, Dan swung his legs to the floor and climbed out of the bed, swiping both their phones off the nightstand.

“Is it time?” Phil asked, unable to curb his reluctance, even as he caught his phone when Dan threw it at him.

“It’s time,” Dan confirmed, still standing by the bed. He didn’t sound any more pleased about it than Phil felt, but he was already in the process of unlocking his own phone, so Phil figured there was no escaping reality at this point.

Pressing his thumb to the home button, Phil unlocked his phone, only getting as far as his home screen — where there were approximately fifty thousand notifications — before he was sidetracked by a sharp what the fuck from Dan.

For a second, Phil was torn on what to do first. It seemed like every app had at least a dozen notifications — and some had literally hundreds. His finger froze, debating if he should open his email or twitter or instagram or tumblr or messages or whatsapp or —

Jesus, even Phil’s calendar app had notifications. That never happened, not outside of previously-discussed meeting invitations at least.

“What in the actual fuck?” Dan muttered, drawing Phil’s attention up; Dan, and his confused distress, seemed like a better place to start than the notifications anyway. Everyone else in the world could wait — and not just because they weren’t right in front of Phil.

“What is it?” he asked, trying his best to keep the apprehensive fear out of his voice (and doing a bang up job of it, he was certain).

“I— someone— last night—” Dan stopped and started several times, his voice growing higher and higher pitched with every attempt, his eyes still focused on his screen. Each start gave no more insight to his increasing distress than the last.

“Dan,” Phil urged, his voice just this side of commanding. He was nervous and increasingly worried, and his anxiety was already getting the best of him.

“There’s— picture,” Dan finally spat out, voice strangled, panicked.

Realization — and his own fair share of fear — washed over Phil, a deep sense of dread churning in his stomach as his mind flashed through image after erotic image of what could have been photographed from last night: Dan blushing at the table while they talked about rimming, Dan straddling his lap in the club and grinding down, Phil pressing Dan against the bar and feeding him limes in the most suggestive way possible, Dan grinding his arse into his crotch and dancing on a crowded and anonymous dance floor…

Phil’s imagination was saved the effort of conjuring up more wonderful but wildly inappropriate memories by Dan thrusting his phone into Phil’s face, far too close for Phil to actually focus on the image on the screen. Calmly, or at least in some version of what Phil hoped seemed calm but probably wasn’t, Phil plucked the phone out of Dan’s hand and held it at a reasonable distance, preparing himself for the worst.

His eyes adjusted, and he took in the picture.

The first thing Phil noticed was that the photo was dark and grainy, but there was no mistaking it was them, not with Dan’s brown curls and dark clothes, and Phil’s dark quiff and brighter outfit. Still, it was far better than any of Phil’s fears — it wasn’t from the restaurant or the club or the dance floor, they weren’t grinding or kissing or teasingly touching each other.

The picture didn’t scream platonic friends, but at the same time, there wasn’t anything explicitly confirmatory about it. There were no obvious hickeys, no lips pressed against lips or throats or collarbones, no hands straying to explicitly private parts.

There was still a shred of plausible deniability.

Oddly enough, the picture seemed to capture the same thing Dan’s new lyrics had — the softer, more romantic and gentle part of the night, the part where they’d sunk into each other. The part where they were full of lust, but undoubtedly full of something else, too.

No, the photo wasn’t some dirty, grainy shot of them at their horniest. It was taken from the back, which explained why they hadn’t noticed the photographer — although the absurd amount of alcohol probably explained that equally as well. They were stopped at a crosswalk, standing side-by-side on the corner, their arms looped around each other’s waists.

Or, well, Dan’s arm was looped around Phil’s waist. Phil’s arm was a bit — a lot — lower. His hand wasn’t so much gripping Dan’s hip as it was the side of his arse.

The placement of Phil’s wandering hand wasn’t great, but compared to their faces…

Dan’s head was tipped sideways onto Phil’s shoulder, chin angled up so his mouth was very obviously accessible for Phil’s. Phil’s own face was turned to look at Dan, bent down at an unnatural angle, his expression a blurry picture of fondness.

Phil couldn’t help but wonder why the photographer — whoever they were — shared this moment, and not the one immediately after. The moment where Phil was nearly certain he’d closed the small distance between them and kissed Dan’s begging lips.

It looked coupley, of course it did, it couldn’t not. But there was room to spin it.

Probably.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Phil schooled his face into a neutral expression and lowered the phone — not that it mattered that much; it wasn’t like Dan’s phone was big enough to hide Phil’s entire face, and Phil was certain that his initial expression hadn’t been the most… composed of all reactions he could have had.

“Okay,” Phil said shortly. His one-word response was clipped, monotone. Drawing a deep breath, he tried his best to sound a bit more alive, a bit more positive, when he continued. “Could’ve been worse, all things considered.”

There. That was a true statement.

Dan raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, shrugging his shoulder in a noncommittal I guess fashion. He snatched his phone out of Phil’s hand and studied the picture for a second longer before looking back up to Phil.

“You can’t tell if either of us are hard, I guess that’s something,” Dan finally conceded. He pursed his lips, his mouth scrunching to one side as he stared harder at his screen.

“True,” Phil agreed, genuinely thankful for the small victory — he knew he’d been at least semi-hard for a large part of the previous night, and he was pretty sure the same went for Dan, too. Phil’s branding could handle some drunk walking and cuddling with a friend (or someone more, his audience didn’t need to know the specifics). He wasn’t sure how well his branding would mesh with stiff cocks and hot lips and groping hands, though.

Twirling his own phone between his thumb and forefinger, Phil trained his gaze on Dan’s face, carefully watching for any minute hint of emotion. Dan’s expression was steadfastly neutral, albeit pinched, though, making it nearly impossible for Phil to read what Dan was thinking.

“What next?” Phil finally relented when the silence went on for too long. The desperation to do something — whether it was responding to every single tweet they’d been tagged in or deleting every contact who’d messaged them about the picture — was gnawing at Phil’s nerves and his fingers were itching to do anything at this point.

Antarctica could be nice, Phil thought. At least penguins were cute. And probably easier to please than excited fans.

Dan sighed, dropping his attention back down to his phone. “I reckon we should start by seeing what people are saying,” Dan mumbled, already tapping about on his phone as he collapsed back onto the bed, his back leaning against the headboard, his side pressing up alongside Phil’s. “No point in talking ‘bout what we want to do until we know what everyone’s thinking.”

“Great,” Phil agreed, an uncharacteristic note of sarcasm creeping into his response — maybe it was from being around Dan so much, or maybe it was the only way he could cope with the severity of the current situation. “Reading through all my twitter mentions is exactly what I want to do right now,” he huffed, punctuating his complaint with an eyeroll.

Dan and his sass were definitely beginning to rub off on him.

Whining aside, both Dan and Phil opened their twitters. Phil swiped directly over to his mentions, impatience getting the best of him. Almost all of them mentioned Dan too, and a not-insignificant portion were in response to the original tweeted picture of them. Phil had learned from experience: the more people responded to the source of gossip, the more people the gossip reached.

As Phil scrolled through his tweets, he gathered that most people's reactions were positive — ranging from excited keyboard smashes to multi-tweet threads of encouragement, support, and firm warnings to respect his and Dan’s privacy. Somewhere in between the extremes, though, were a bunch of overly intrusive, speculative tweets that had Phil groaning. There were tweets that tried to guess at the context of the photo, tweet threads that in-depth speculated on the nature of his and Dan’s relationship, back-and-forth tweets arguing about the timeline of their romance.

It was too much to keep reading, and besides, Phil had well gotten the gist of it all by now. He glanced over at Dan, mainly to see his reaction, only to find that Dan was scrolling through a hashtag that Phil had only noticed in passing, not fully registering its popularity.

#Phanconfirmed

“There’s a hashtag?” Phil asked wearily, despite the fact that between his feed and Dan’s screen, the answer was obvious.

“It’s trending,” Dan confirmed, his voice still flat as he scrolled through page after page of tweets. “Worldwide,” he added.

“Fuck,” Phil mumbled, incapable of much else at this moment. Dan might have been hung up reading tweets in the hashtag, but Phil was pretty certain he didn’t have it in him at this moment in time. Closing out of the app, Phil switched over to his calendar, then his voicemail, then his messages.

Just from the badges on the apps, Phil knew it’d be bad. All things considered, though, he wasn’t nearly as prepared as he should have been. “I’ve got eight missed calls, five voicemails, and three virtual meeting invites from my manager,” Phil said, half to himself and half to Dan. “And a rather demanding text.”

And those weren’t even counting the ones from PJ and Martyn and his mum. Now definitely didn’t seem like the moment to deal with those.

“Shit,” Dan cursed under his breath. “I should probably check mine, too,” he conceded, this time a little louder.

Phil tore his eyes from his screen — he didn’t particularly want to keep staring at Marianne’s assertive call me asap message anyway — and watched as Dan tapped through his own phone and message apps.

“Sixteen calls, nine voicemails, and ten texts from Louise,” Dan read off unnecessarily, still sounding like he was in a state of shock. Tapping back to his full message list, Dan continued, “Adaline texted five times, too. I’m sure those aren’t hunting for gossip at all,” Dan huffed, dropping his phone and burying his face in his hands.

Phil made a sympathetic noise. His brother wasn’t much of a gossiper, but his whole family knew Martyn was more likely to get dirt out of Phil than anyone else, so he was willing to bet his brother’s texts had the same intentions as Dan’s sister’s.

Dan rubbed his face, clearly agitated. “Fuck, I don’t even want to think about what my parents are saying — I kind of put a moratorium on discussing my love life with them.”

As much as that statement piqued Phil’s interest, he couldn’t bring himself to focus on it right now; his mind was too focused on his own parents — and the fact that he'd barely gotten around to telling his mum anything. He’d shot her a text while they were waiting to board their plane to New York, just a vague message about how she might be seeing his name pop up in celebrity gossip columns and yes he was dating someone and no he didn’t have time to call her and regale her with the details right then. That definitely wasn’t enough anymore, not given the fact that there was now actual photographic evidence of Phil intertwined with a very obviously famous boy that his mum would definitely recognize. So Phil filed Dan’s stray comment about keeping his parents and love life separate into the discuss later part of his brain.

Turning his focus back to the problem at hand, Phil tried to search for a solution. “We should call them, right? Our managers, I mean,” Phil asked, uncertain and unconvinced with his own suggestion. “Or should we talk about this first, just us?”

Dan clicked his phone off, chucking it haphazardly into his lap, and rolled his head to face Phil. His face was still tense with stress, his eyes lit up with something far too close to regret for Phil’s comfort.

“I’m sorry I was all over you last night, I feel like this is my fault,” Dan lamented, his eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds. It wasn’t an answer to Phil’s question, it was just an… unnecessary apology.

“Hey,” Phil said softly, nudging his shoulder against Dan’s and tipping his head up with gentle fingers on Dan’s chin. Their gazes finally met, and Phil pressed a sweet kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Last night was just as much me as it was you,” Phil assured him.

“Yeah, but I was the sloppy, needy one who practically begged his boyfriend to take care of him,” Dan rebutted, his face still filled with far more remorse than Phil ever wanted to see on it.

“Shush,” Phil admonished kindly. “You may have been a bit needy, but I was more than willing to take care of you, baby. I don’t want you to ever feel bad for asking for what you need, I want to give it to you no matter what.”

Dan’s eyes snapped shut again, his breath coming a bit heavier than it had been a minute ago. A tense moment passed before he finally spoke.

“Fuck, Phil. You can’t just say shit like that,” he grumbled, eyes batting open and boring into Phil’s. “Not if you’re not willing to fuck me, anyway,” he added, a hint of a smirk toying at his lips.

“Later, babe, after we deal with this.” Phil kissed Dan’s forehead again, this time letting his lips linger for a few seconds before pulling back and letting Dan’s chin dip back down. Gaze trained on the top of Dan’s head and eyes tracing the messy curls, Phil’s mind drifted back to the problem at hand.

Fiddling with his phone in one hand as he searched for what to say next, Phil’s mind fumbled through vague, half-formed ideas. But before he could articulate any of them, the harsh, unexpected vibrating of his phone derailed his thoughts. Even as he glanced down, Phil could already guess that the call was from his manager — in hindsight, the buzzing really shouldn’t be that surprising, given all the other missed calls.

“I can let it go to voicemail,” Phil offered, making no move to answer the call. “That way we can talk first.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dan sighed. “Stalling won’t make things any easier. Just… figure out what she’s thinking and don’t agree to anything major, and I’ll do the same with Louise and then we can figure it out together.”

“Mmk,” Phil hummed in agreement, swiping to answer the call at the last second. “Hi, Marianne,” he greeted when the call connected. His voice had none of its usual enthusiasm, and his attention was only half focused on the call — the rest of it was watching Dan dial his own call, presumably to Louise, as he made his way to the bathroom and shut the door.

As much as Phil wanted to know what was happening with Dan’s conversation, the separation was probably for the best. Phil was certain that he wouldn’t be able to focus on his own conversation if Dan was still in the room.

Marianne didn’t beat around the bush; there were no pleasantries, no polite inquiries about his trip to the US. Instead, she jumped right into the crux of the drama.

“Phil, I didn’t push you to address the rumors when Dan came out,” Marianne said, her voice stern and leaving no room for discussion. “But you cannot ignore two scandals in a week.”

“I —” Phil started, intending to push back. But even as he pieced together his rebuttal, he knew she was right. His silence would only fuel the rumors, and besides, he felt like he needed to tell his audience something. In the past, he’d always been open about his friends, had always regaled his audience with tales of his travels, had always acknowledged any drama he was dragged into.

Phil sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he was definitely going to have to do something publically. “Fine, you’re right. What do you have in mind?”

“The sooner you respond, the better,” Marianne answered immediately, sounding like she’d already thought this through — and she probably had. Unlike Phil, she’d known about this for almost the whole day, not a handful of minutes. “I think you should move your liveshow up to tonight. You should probably start by saying that you’re in New York with Dan, even though that’s well obvious at this point.”

Phil huffed a laugh, but Marianne continued without pausing.

“You can let the picture come up naturally — I’m sure plenty of people will be asking about it. Don’t just answer the first one on a whim though, wait until you find one that you feel comfortable answering. One you think can be a good opening to the topic. And then you can tell your version of the story.”

“Okay,” Phil said slowly, his mind already fast-forwarding to the liveshow, spinning the story different ways and imagining how his audience might respond. Sighing, Phil asked the question he knew Marianne would answer anyway, but that he just wanted out of the way at this point. “I know you have an opinion about what I should say, so let’s hear it,” he mumbled, resigned. At this point, he had no idea what he should do, and he was open to just about any suggestion.

“Of course I do,” Marianne said. Phil bit his lip, waiting with bated breath to hear her assessment. “But,” she continued after a second’s pause, “this isn’t just about your career, it’s your life. And it’s Dan’s life, too. Whatever you say, it needs to be what’s right for the both of you, and I can’t answer that.”

“I — yeah. You’re right. Thanks,” Phil said gratefully before running through the logistics of the liveshow. One of his favorite parts about working with Marianne was that she wasn’t overly controlling, especially when it came to stuff that would actually impact Phil’s personal life.

“So…” Marianne broached tentatively. “Do you think you know what you want to do?”

Phil cast his gaze about the room, his eyes catching on movement from the hallway; the bathroom door was opening and Dan stepped out, one hand aggravatedly rubbing down his face.

“Not yet, Marianne,” Phil answered, his eyes trained on Dan. “I’ll figure it out before I go live tonight, though.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed politely. There was a brief pause before, “Phil?”

“Mmm?” Phil hummed in response, thrown off by the uncharacteristically tentative tone.

Marianne took a deep breath. “Do whatever you think is best,” she said, strong and sure. “You have my full support.”

“Thanks,” Phil murmured, taken aback by the sincerity of the moment — he always had known Marianne cared for him, she’d been his manager for years after all, but their relationship was always based on business. They weren’t like Dan and Louise, they weren’t friends first and professionals second.

The unconditional support, while perhaps surprising, was certainly welcomed.

“I’ll let you know what we decide,” Phil promised softly. After saying goodbye, he hung up and turned to Dan, who was already off the phone with Louise and hovering near the entrance to the bedroom.

Phil tapped his phone against his thigh, his nervous energy needing some outlet. He glanced down and saw that the screen had gone back to the last thing he was looking at before the call came through — twitter. “So Marianne wants me to—”

“Do your liveshow tonight,” Dan finished for him swiftly. He moved further into the room, sitting back on his side of the bed. “Yeah, I gathered.”

Turning his attention to his phone, Phil navigated back to his profile. He clicked on the picture and gave it a good, long stare, trying trying to analyze it objectively. Trying to see it through his audience’s eyes.

Trying to decipher his own feelings about it.

“What do I say?” Phil asked, holding his breath. His own indecisiveness aside, he needed to know where Dan’s mind was at. Phil knew Dan hadn’t wanted to get into the specifics with their audiences, but, well, things had clearly changed. And now, Phil had no idea what to expect — he wasn’t sure if Dan would want to hold onto that shred of deniability, or if Dan’s newly-loud bi-pride would mean he’d want to fully embrace the implications of the picture.

At this point, Phil wasn’t even sure how he wanted to handle the picture. Objectively, he knew the most on brand way spin it: find the most platonic, innocent angle and double down, deny any sexual or romantic implications. He didn’t need to say it out loud, didn’t need to hear Marianne say it, to know it was the most AmazingPhil reaction he could muster up.

But even as he played out the fabricated story in his head, he was pretty sure he hated it.

Phil glanced up at Dan, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. For several seconds, the world was silent; it was just Dan biting his bottom lip, his eyes trained on the photo on Phil’s screen, and his face betraying absolutely no indication of what was going through his mind. Finally, his gaze flitted back up to Phil, his eyes clouded and unclear. “That I was drunk and cold and you were taking me back.”

Phil quirked an eyebrow, a million follow-up questions immediately badgering his mind — the same follow up questions that everyone would have. Where were they before? What had they been doing that got Dan drunk? Were other people with them? Was Phil drunk, too? Had this happened before? Were they going back to the same room? Was Dan this touchy with everyone when he was drunk, or was that just Phil?

Dan shrugged but didn’t avert his gaze. “That’s enough of an answer. If people want to assume that back meant to a shared room, fine. If they assume it’s to a different room in the same hotel, fine.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed noncommittally, just enough to show Dan he was listening.

Dan’s eyes shifted to the desk, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Phil had known Dan long enough to recognize his thinking face, so he waited, swallowing back all the questions he was tempted to ask. Finally, Dan continued, once again meeting Phil’s gaze, a spark of resolution in his eyes. “I don’t want to lie,” he said firmly. “But also, the past few days have been… a lot. Significant. I wanted to… let them stand alone. And my relationships — I’ve always tried to keep my personal life private, but I also haven’t exactly ever been forced to ever own up or deny them.”

Phil nodded slowly. “That’s fair,” he agreed, his words like molasses. He understood Dan’s points, he really did. He was so, so thrilled that Dan didn’t want to hide this relationship — a distinct change from the relationships Dan had described having with other boys (and most girls, for that matter). Nervously, Phil cocked his head. “And, hypothetically, what if I’m forced to confirm or deny?”

It was an entirely unnecessary question, really. Phil was planning to do a liveshow — the audience was always entirely separated from him, there was never a way for them to know for certain which questions Phil had and had not seen. Unless literally every single question was about Dan, Phil’s hand wouldn’t be forced.

But still… Phil wanted to know. He needed to know where Dan stood, where his mind was at right now. So Phil stared at Dan curiously, brow cocked and head tilted, until Dan finally responded.

Once again, Dan shrugged, but this time it wasn’t as… apathetic. This time, it was just… resigned, maybe? Phil couldn’t quite tell; he didn’t like not being able to read Dan’s body language.

“I’m not gonna dictate what you should and shouldn’t say to your audience,” Dan said, lips pursed. “If you feel backed into a corner, say whatever you want. I know you’re not gonna fuck me over.” Dan rubbed his hands over his face, nervous energy lacing the movement. He dropped his hands and looked back at Phil. “Like I said, I don’t wanna lie, but I also don’t wanna make you feel like you have to tell your audience anything in particular.”

“So just to be clear,” Phil started, a smile creeping onto his face and into his voice. “If — for some reason — I have to say yes or no, it’s okay if I say either?”

“Phil.” Dan’s voice was low and uncharacteristically sincere, his pupils blown wide, and his hand twitching like it was fighting back the urge to reach for Phil’s. “I’m having an amazing time with you and I’m...I’m in this... for the long haul,” Dan’s gaze flickered to the side, resting on his black notebook next to his leg. His words were slow and deliberate, like he was carefully selecting each one.

Phil couldn’t tune out the butterflies that were beating against his stomach, and could barely bite back an overly enthusiastic me too.

But Dan ploughed on before Phil could say anything, and maybe that was for the best. “I’m having trouble imagining a world where it’s not eventually completely obvious what you are to me, so...” Phil’s mind jumped to all the possible whys behind that statement; he couldn’t help it. Dan’s lyrics and album theme flashed through his mind, but so did Dan’s instagram posts and flirty tweets.

Dan’s eyes finally shifted back to Phil’s, determined, tenacious. “So I’d rather not lie,” Dan said, sure and confident. “If they know something for certain, I’d rather it be the truth. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of — of —”

Dan’s gaze dropped again, and Phil bit his lips, holding back a smile as he imagined what the rest of Dan’s sentence might be, what it might mean. Everything Dan had said today seemed half shared, just a small portion of what Dan seemed to want to say. Phil didn’t want to be overly presumptuous, to pretend he knew what Dan was thinking, but he felt confident in his guesses to the end of at least a few of Dan’s sentences.

Dan opened and closed his mouth, over and over, not speaking. Finally, he sighed, and Phil expected him to say something, anything, concrete — more because Dan was strong willed, and less because Phil couldn’t predict what he might be thinking. But instead, Dan rose up off the bed and headed for the bathroom, halting just before the door. Eyes trained on the floor, Dan muttered, “If you have to say something, say whatever you want — I trust you. I’d just prefer it to be the truth.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 30)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 7.6k story words: 240k (so far) chapter: 30/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thanks to my one true love @auroraphilealis giving up whatever she was doing tonight to beta, even though she had a headache and unlimited lives on her fave mobile game of the moment xx 

Dan woke up early, groggy from jetlag. The hotel room was shrouded in dark shadows, and in his sleepy state, he couldn’t tell if it was from the thick curtains or if it was still dark outside. Whichever it was, it really made him not want to move — well, that and the warm weight of Phil’s arm wrapped around his waist and the soft, rhythmic tickle of Phil’s breath against the back of Dan’s neck. Sometime during the night, they’d shifted from their original position of Dan’s head on Phil’s chest. They hadn’t drifted far from each other, though. Somehow, they’d ended up spooning, and Dan secretly loved that even in their sleep, they’d wanted to stay close together.

But despite the serenity, worry nagged at the back of Dan’s mind, and he found himself itching to check his phone. He’d spent the majority of the plane ride ruminating about Isabella’s interview, his mind spiraling and dreaming up worst case scenarios. During the one hour of the flight he’d managed to sleep, he’d dreamed that Isabella had told everyone he’d cheated on her with Phil.

Luckily, last night he’d slept peacefully — he couldn’t imagine trying to film an interview in front of a live audience on a fitful night’s sleep. Dan suspected that Phil had something to do with why he’d slept so well, but now didn’t seem like the time to explore that thought.

Careful not to disturb Phil, Dan stretched forward to swipe his phone off the bedside table. He clicked it on, and was surprised to find that it was only half past seven — his alarm wasn’t due to go off for another half hour. Less surprising was the fact that there were already two text messages from Louise; it was five hours later there after all.

The messages had only come in an hour ago.

There was little doubt in Dan’s mind that the messages had something to do with Isabella’s interview, because Louise would have waited until a more reasonable time to text about anything else. Wiggling further back into Phil’s embrace, Dan took a deep breath and opened them.

Louise [6:28AM]: Tatler has already posted about the interview. They must have wanted to get it out fast, because it’s pretty much just a transcript, not a proper article. I’m going to read it now.

Louise [6:37AM]: You’re going to hate it. Honestly, it’s not that bad, there’s nothing so damning that you can’t fix it. But… you won’t like it :( Here’s the link: www.tatler.uk/18572650

“Fuck,” Dan muttered, apparently a little too loudly. Behind him, Phil stirred; his leg shifted, wrapping fully around Dan’s, and Phil pulled him in closer.

“What time’s it?” Phil asked, his voice deep and scratchy with sleep.

“Half seven,” Dan answered shortly.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Phil slurred. His hand dipped just inside the hem of Dan’s pyjama pants, his thumb stroking Dan’s bare hipbone. On any other morning, Dan was certain that this would be pleasant — peaceful even. But this morning, Dan’s mind couldn’t detach from the real world enough to enjoy the touch.

“Louise texted. The interview is up.” Even to his own ears, Dan’s voice sounded flat. Flat and tight.

The news seemed to affect Phil just as much as it had Dan. The gentle caress of Dan’s hip stopped abruptly, Phil’s hand gripping his waist tightly instead.

“How bad?” Phil asked warily.

Dan tipped his head slightly so that he could at least sort of see Phil. “Dunno yet. I haven’t read it. Louise said I wouldn’t like it, but it, and I quote, isn’t too bad and there’s nothing too damning.”

“That’s… contradictory.” Phil’s brows were furrowed; he looked just as confused as Dan felt.

“Fucking tell me about it,” Dan grumbled. Louise had never been one to sugar coat news about publicity, so he objectively knew this couldn’t be that horrific. But still, the fact that his best friend knew he’d hate what Isabella had to say… He had a feeling that meant that Izzy had probably gone for the jugular.

“Well,” Phil said with a sigh. “Should we read it?”

“Unfortunately,” Dan huffed. One hand dropped from his phone, reaching instead for Phil’s arm that was wrapped around his waist. Slowly, Dan slithered his hand down until his fingers linked with Phil’s. Looking over his shoulder, Dan’s eyes flickered back and forth between Phil’s. “Together?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Phil agreed, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to Dan’s forehead.

“Alright, here goes nothing.” With a sigh, Dan rolled back onto his side, and clicked the link Louise had sent. He felt Phil raise up on his elbow, his head hooking around Dan’s shoulder so he could read too. The page loaded, and Dan dove into reading, knowing that if he procrastinated at all, his anxiety might stop him from ever being able to read it.

—

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly of Love with Daniel Howell

This morning, I sat down with one of Tatler’s favorite models, Isabella De La Renta, to talk about her recent split from singer Daniel Howell (see here, here, and here for our past coverage of the shocking break up). For those curious, Isabella ordered a green tea (maybe inspired by her recent trip to China; see here for more details) and a yogurt parfait (no granola because she doesn’t eat carbs to maintain her perfect figure!). Isabella dished on everything from Dan’s shocking announcement about his sexuality (see his instagram post here) to how their relationship was going before their split.

You and Dan dated for a long time —

IDLR: Almost a year!

What’s life like now that you’re broken up?

IDLR: It’s been a hard adjustment. In so many ways, Dan was my best friend. It still feels weird to not be able to call him after a long day or to share good news.

I think it goes without saying that your breakup was a huge shock to your fans. Were you surprised?

IDLR: Yes and no. By the time we broke up, I knew it was the right thing to do, but if you asked me earlier this year, I never would have guessed. Just a few months ago, I went to Adalina’s birthday dinner — that’s Dan’s little sister — and his mum and I were talking about rings. His whole family was so welcoming and seemed really supportive of the idea of marriage.

Oh wow — rings. How did that come up?

IDLR: Dan’s mum was wearing a gorgeous diamond ring that he bought her for Christmas, and she made a point to tell me that. It was so clearly a sneaky way for him to get my opinion on what kind of rings I prefer. It was kind of sweet actually.

From ring talk to breaking up, that’s quite a change. You said that you knew breaking up was the right thing to do. Why was that?

For the first time since we sat down together, Isabella fell silent. Her eyes drifted out the window, and she was silent a long time. By the time she spoke again, her voice was choked up with tears and the model’s response was interrupted by delicate sniffles. It’s clear that this topic is still hard for her to talk about.

IDLR: We dated almost a year and, like I said, we were best friends. I thought I knew everything about Danny. And then in January, he told me he was attracted to guys, too. I really didn’t want it to affect our relationship, but I felt so betrayed that he’d kept such a big part of himself secret from me that it was hard to trust him anymore. In the end, I knew I couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t willing to be completely authentic with me.

Did you feel like he continued to be inauthentic with you after he came out to you?

IDLR: Yes, yes definitely. Dan assured me — just like he announced on his insta — that he’s bisexual. But after a year of dating him, and seeing how he is with a certain boy, I think maybe… maybe he’s not bisexual if you know what I mean.

Interesting. So what do you think that means about his relationship with you?

IDLR: Honestly, I feel really used. Before he told me about his sexuality, there were definitely moments where I felt like he was dating me for reasons he wasn’t letting on. But I never would have guessed it was a coverup for being gay.

I don't think any of us anticipated that! How did Dan handle the breakup?

IDLR: He really didn’t want to break up — he asked me several times to reconsider. I think he liked being able to show the world that he had a girlfriend, and ultimately, we did have a lot of fun together. Even if it did turn out to be not genuinely based on sex or romance.

Since you teased about it, will you tell us what the sex was like?

IDLR: Nosey nosey! For a while, it was good — maybe because it was new or him exploring or whatever. But that must have worn off or something. For the last few months, he wasn’t interested in it at all. He’d always find an excuse to get out of it, and the few times he didn’t… well, let’s just say it didn’t work and it wasn’t my fault. That was really hard to come to terms with and I felt so rejected.

That would be difficult for anyone to handle.

IDLR: I feel like it was extra hard for me because I’ve, like, never been rejected like that before. I grew up always being the pretty girl that everybody wanted, so to have Danny not want me in that way… Well, that’s when I knew for sure that he wasn’t bi, and realized our whole relationship was totally fake and I was just his… beard.

His beard — wow. That’s not something you hear much anymore.

IDLR: Maybe people are just better at keeping secrets now. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to notice that I’m the only public relationship Dan’s had. Why else do you think that would be, if it wasn’t that all his lovers were men?

I asked Isabella if she had any final things to say about Daniel Howell, and she left us with this powerful message:

“Danny had me fooled for almost a year, and we were closer than I thought two people could be. Don’t hesitate to think that he might be fooling you too.” -IDLR.

—

“Fuck fuck fucking fuck!” Dan cursed. Every single word in the article was complete bullshit, but that quote at the end — that quote was the final fucking straw. How fucking dare Isabella twist the story like that, and then use her twisted, fucked up version of events to make everyone question everything he was going to say?

Adrenaline was coursing through Dan’s veins, and he couldn’t possibly stay still for another second. Dan chucked his phone towards the foot of the bed, not bothering to check if it landed safely — it was cracked anyway — and abruptly lunged out of Phil’s arm.

Pent up energy was eating at him, making him itch to move, so he began pacing their room. With vehement quickness, Dan marched up and down the small aisle between the foot of the bed and the dresser, pacing from the sofa to the bathroom and back, over and over and over.

“Fuck her, fuck her, that fucking cunt!” Dan spat, bringing one hand up to tug roughly at his tangled curls.

“Dan, I know you’re pissed off, but —” Phil started to say, but Dan wasn’t having any of it. He just barely glanced over, only fleetingly noting that Phil had pushed himself up to a sitting position and was now leaning forward like he wanted to say something.

“Pissed off?” Dan asked incredulously with a bitter laugh. Pissed off didn’t even begin to describe how Dan felt right now — he was downright livid, and he literally could not remember a single time where he’d been more upset than this. Not when his dad had sold his car without his permission, not when a group of obnoxious young fans had tried to harass Adaline for information, not when an unreleased, private song had accidentally been released to the public.

This — this was a whole new fucking level of anger, and there was only one way Dan knew how to cope with it.

Music.

He wanted everyone to know that Isabella was the one trying to fool the world, that Isabella was the one lying out of her ass. And what better way to do it than singing a song that practically screamed how fucked up Isabella’s behavior had been?

And if he sang it tonight, just hours after Isabella’s interview was released, people would know he’d written it beforehand — it would be at least one piece of evidence that would corroborate his version — the real version — of the story.

“That bitch isn’t getting away with this,” Dan muttered fiercely. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his side, his breaths coming in harsh huffs.

“Don’t do anything too rash, Dan,” Phil half-heartedly pleaded from the bed. The words knocked Dan out of his thoughts, and he froze mid-pace to spin around and face Phil.

“It’s not considered rash if I already planned on releasing the song at some point, right?” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

Phil narrowed his gaze, though, eyeing Dan carefully. “I thought you said you only had one song you could perform without the backup band?”

Dan narrowed his eyes. He understood Phil’s rebuttal — Dan had told Phil that there was only one song he could play with just his guitar. My My My was Dan’s only acoustic song. But that didn’t mean it was the only song he could play without having his full backup band with him.

“Well, technically,” he admitted slowly. “But I do have another song — a perfect song — that’s basically ready. The band’s already recorded the instrumental parts, so I could just sing to that,” Dan suggested tentatively.

To Dan’s surprise, Phil pouted at the news. His bottom lip stuck out pitifully, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I thought my song was perfect?” he whined.

The anger that had been curling at Dan’s edges receded slightly, utter adoration for the man in front of him creeping into its place. Despite the urge to retaliate against Isabella’s accusations, Dan found his entire body, his entire demeanor, softening. Phil was so cute, and yet so petulant, that Dan couldn’t help melting. There was a happy glint in Phil’s eyes that was never there when Isabella had pouted at Dan, a spark that told Dan that this was different.

Before Dan could process his own actions, he was moving again, this time walking with purpose towards Phil and coming to a stop at the very edge of the bed.

Reaching out, Dan cupped Phil’s face in his palms, tilting his head up until their eyes met.

“Of course your song is perfect, Philly,” Dan reassured him with a soft smile. “But I wrote My My My, and the rest of your songs for that matter, when I was happy and giddy and in—” Dan paused, a hot flush rising to his cheeks. “Well. When I wasn’t in this kind of mood. And I’d rather the world didn’t hear any of them for the first time with this mood tainting it.”

For a moment, Phil just held Dan’s gaze. Dan raised his brows hopefully, almost pleading for Phil’s sad look to go away. But then Phil’s pouted melted, and a small smile replaced it instead. A part of Dan — a bigger part of him than he’d like to admit, really — was surprised at how quickly Phil’s pout had disappeared, even if the pout had only been joking in the first place. After a year with Isabella, Dan was used to fucking groveling if he wanted those sad looks to go away without sex.

“The rest of my songs?” Phil marveled, a hint of astonishment lacing his voice and a pink blush tainting his cheeks.

“Yes you loser, the rest of your songs.” Dan huffed, but not bothering to hide an enamoured grin.

“I didn’t know there was more than just the one,” Phil said softly, a note of awe in his voice.

“Did you even listen to the concept of the album?” Dan shook his head and rolled his eyes. Humor and fondness were seeping into his words no matter how hard he tried to sound serious; it didn’t matter that he’d been delirious with anger fifteen seconds ago, something about this boy managed to swing his mood to the polar opposite in the flicker of a second. “Wanting you, getting you… doesn’t that imply a bare minimum of two songs?” Dan teased, quirking an eyebrow and running one hand along the short, buzzcut side of Phil’s hair.

Isabella wasn’t right, he wasn’t gay, but he definitely reveled in how much of a boy Phil was.

“I mean,” Phil’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, his mouth pulling into a broad grin. Through his teeth, Phil’s tongue continued poking out of his mouth, and for once, his hand didn’t shoot up to hide it. “I guess I objectively figured that. But I didn’t, like… know. For sure, I mean.”

“You’re a dork, but I like you anyway,” Dan teased with a smirk.

Leaning down, Dan closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Phil’s. The kiss was soft, almost chaste, at first, but the adrenaline that had been plaguing Dan must not have settled yet. The gentle kiss quickly grew heated, Dan’s mouth parting and his tongue darting out to lick along Phil’s bottom lip.

The soft whine Phil let out made Dan grin smugly.

“Before I call Lou about the song change, I need to shower and cool down,” Dan panted against Phil’s mouth after a moment, only drawing far enough back to mumble the words. Tipping his head forward, Dan captured Phil’s lips once more, playfully, sucking Phil’s bottom lip between his own, and letting his teeth graze along the sensitive skin just inside of Phil’s mouth. “Come with me?”

Hot staccatoed breaths fanned across Dan’s face as Phil chuckled, chasing Dan’s mouth to press a final, chaste kiss to his lips. “I’m pretty sure me showering with you will do the opposite of helping you cool down,” Phil teased.

“But Phi-illllll,” Dan whined, his voice several octaves higher than normal. Childish petulance seemed to take over Dan, and he stomped his foot on the ground, tugging pointedly at Phil’s hair.

“But D-annnn,” Phil mocked, his voice somehow even higher than Dan’s. Smirk on his face, Phil lightly shook Dan by the hips.

Actions speak louder than words, or so everyone said, so rather than replying, Dan opted to slide his hands from Phil’s cheeks down down down until he’d landed on Phil’s hips. Even then, Dan didn’t stop; one hand drifted farther, slipping into the hem of Phil’s pants. His fingers grazed Phil’s hipbone, creeping farther and farther back towards Phil’s arse.

Dan wiggled his eyebrows and licked his lips in what he hoped was a suggestive manner. “Come on,” he said gruffly, his hand lightly squeezing what he could reach of Phil’s arse.

“I’ll tell you what,” Phil started with a mischievous glint in his eye, shaking his head at Dan’s offer but smirking all the while. “I promise we’ll do something fun when you’re done filming the show.”

Lips pursed, Dan raised his brows skeptically. “Why can’t we do something fun later and now? It seems unnecessarily cruel for you to lounge in bed and leave me to wank in the shower,” he whined.

“Jesus christ, Dan,” Phil muttered, his eyes squeezing shut. Against his hips, Dan could feel the way Phil’s fingers dug in, he could see the way Phil’s entire body tensed. Everything about Phil’s demeanor made Dan confident that Phil would cave, if not now, then soon.

It took a moment, but Phil opened them again, although he didn’t quite meet Dan’s eye. “We both know if I come with you, we’ll both get absurdly distracted.”

“So?” Dan asked petulantly, sticking his lip out this time.

“So!” Phil huffed, exasperated. “You have a big day today and should focus on that. Besides, I should really call my mum.”

Dan wrinkled his nose, horrified at the change in subject. “Your mum? Are you really dragging your mum into this to turn me off?”

“Shut up, you twat.” Phil rolled his eyes, finally tipping his head far enough back to meet Dan’s gaze again. “My mum’s only request is that I text her if I leave the time zone, and now we’ve traveled through like six, so I think I owe her a call.”

“Yikes,” Dan cringed, his face scrunched up in horror. “You should have called her from the aeroport or something!” Dan tapped Phil’s shoulder impatiently, trying to get his point across.

Phil smiled softly, one hand reaching up to still Dan’s hand, trapping it against Phil’s neck. “I didn’t wanna leave you alone,” he said warmly, his other thumb grazing over Dan’s hipbone.

“Ugh,” Dan recoiled instantly, his nose wrinkling up in disgust. He wrangled his hand out of Phil’s grip, lightly swatting him on the shoulder. “Gross,” Dan whined, but his lips were drawn into a beaming smile.

Phil flicked Dan’s shoulder with his free hand, and flashed him a cheeky grin. “Shut up and go shower, Howell.”

“Fuck you too, Lester,” Dan pouted.

“You can do whatever you want later,” Phil teased coyly, his hand dipping into Dan’s pants to squeeze the top of his arse. Even knowing that Phil wasn’t going to accompany him to the shower, Dan couldn’t help but arch back into Phil’s touch.

“Fine, but you better believe I’m taking you up on that promise,” Dan griped, taking a minute step backward.

“Good,” Phil said with a shameless smile. “I hoped you would.”

********************

As much as Dan had resented having to get himself off with a rushed and mediocre handjob in the shower when he had a perfectly good, sexy boyfriend right outside the door, Phil had been right. From the minute Dan had gotten out of the shower — literally, he actually got out early because Louise was ringing — until the time Dan had been plopped down in a makeup chair in a small dressing room, he’d been having non-stop conversations about logistics and planning. Between Louise, his record label, and the Tonight Show coordinators, Dan barely had time to breathe — much less fuck around in the shower.

All the planning had been good though. It kept his mind busy and held his nerves at bay — until now.

Now, as some random woman dabbed foundation onto Dan’s face, there was nothing to do other than let his mind wander. Phil had ducked out a few minutes ago, going on a quest for decent coffee for Dan. While Dan really did want some tolerable caffeine, he was beginning to regret letting Phil be the one to get it.

Phil’s grounding chatter had disappeared, and along with it, so had Dan’s composure. Nerves had settled deep in the pit of his stomach and were slowly taking over his whole body. Sure, Dan had been given a run-down of topics Jimmy would hit on — and allowed to veto any he was uncomfortable with — but the gravity of what he was about to do, what he was about to talk about on national television, was weighing on him.

The makeup artist finished with the foundation and grabbed a natural-looking dark brown mascara from the pot. “Look up, please,” she instructed.

Dan eyed the brown mascara — mascara that was basically almost the exact same shade as his own eyelashes. Something about it didn’t feel right tonight, and he couldn’t quite keep his gut from screaming about it. This whole week was a movement towards being more authentic, and in a sudden moment of brazenness, Dan interrupted the makeup woman.

“Actually —” Dan paused. Stalled in hesitation, his tongue darting out to nervously wet his lower lip. Fuck it. Tonight was about making a statement. A big, loud and proud statement. He wasn’t going to half-ass it. “Can you do some eyeliner first? And maybe the black mascara?” The words came out more unsure than he’d wanted them to, and his hand was shaky as he pointed to the most dramatic tube, but he’d asked all the same. That’s what counted.

Dan expected the woman to be surprised, to balk at his request for something more feminine than she was offering. But to his surprise, she smiled broadly and gushed, “Of course!” as she pulled a small bag out of her kit. “What kind of look are you going for? Something subtle that will bring out your eyes? Or something more dramatic like the mid-2000s emo trend?”

“Um…” Dan floundered, suddenly doubting his decision — he didn’t want either of those options. Eyes fluttering closed, Dan listened to Adaline’s voice in his head saying one deep breath and then do the thing that scares you. “Neither,” he said as he met the makeup artist’s gaze with a defiant stare. This time, his voice wasn’t trembling or uncertain. It was strong. Confident.

The makeup artist’s head tilted slightly, and her lips quirked up into a small grin. “Okay, tell me what you’d like.”

Dan’s gaze drifted to his reflection in the mirror, his eyes tracing over the features of his face. “Nothing too dramatic, but I want it to be… noticeable.” He contemplated his long lashes and the dark brown of his eyes. “Something… pretty.”

“I can definitely do pretty!” The woman assured him with bubbly enthusiasm. “What are your thoughts about a bit of highlighter and bronzer to make those cute cheeks pop?”

A warm blush flushed Dan’s cheeks, and he looked down at his lap to hide his smile. He was flustered. Not from her calling him cute, but from the fact that someone other than Louise was willing to indulge his interest in makeup.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed softly, glancing up to meet the woman’s gaze in the mirror. “Whatever you think will look nice.”

Mesmerized, Dan watched as the woman pulled palette after palette out of her bag, opening and closing them as she seemed to debate which products to use. It was all so much nicer than the kid’s kit he’d bought Darcy, and so much more than the small stock Adaline used to have in her bathroom drawers.

The woman brushed powders over his cheeks, some feeling like they were almost down to his chin, some feeling like the went all the way up to his eye. Having his makeup done — proper makeup, not just stage makeup — was more nerve-wracking than Dan had anticipated, and he forced himself to avert his eyes anywhere but his own reflection. If he saw himself before she’d finished, he worried that he’d lose his courage; it was better to wait until the whole thing was done, then it would be harder to derail.

And maybe it’d look nice enough that he wouldn’t want to.

He reached out for one of the untouched palettes and opened it, only to find an array of greys and whites and blacks, some shimmery, some matte, and some straight up glitter. They were pretty — prettier than he thought he thought makeup could be, honestly.

“What’s this?” he asked, raising the palette a bit so the woman could see.

“Eyeshadow. Do you want some of that, too?” She asked it like it was the simplest question in the world, not like Dan was taking a rather large step in his slow but steady defiance of gender roles and heteronormativity.

His eyes lingered on one glittery grey powder, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly like a gaping fish.

After a moment’s hesitation, he weakly responded, “I think… not today.”

The makeup artist considered him for a second before plucking the palette out of his hands. “It’s up to you, of course, but we could do something really subtle. Maybe like this?” She spun the palette around so Dan could see it again, and pointed to one of the lightest options, a pale white with the faintest of shimmer. Dan didn’t know much about makeup, but he doubted the color would even show up on his skin.

“Does that even count as a color?” he asked doubtfully.

“It’s more of an accent, usually.” The makeup artist shrugged. “But if we swept it across your eyelids, the light shimmer would catch in the light and it would look nice. Barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it, but nice.”

Dan hesitated again, his fingers tapping the table in front of him as he considered her offer. For some reason, eyeshadow — even eyeshadow that was basically nonexistent — seemed like a bigger step than eyeliner and something to accent his cheeks.

“Here,” the makeup artist said in a soothing voice, almost as if she sensed his apprehension. Without waiting for a response from Dan, she pulled a brush out of her toolkit and reached for Dan’s hand. “I’ll swipe it on your hand so you can see what it looks like on your skin first.”

“Oh!” Dan breathed, astonished. The idea of testing it somewhere hadn’t occurred to him at all, and he was suddenly realizing how fucking little he knew about makeup. Pliantly, Dan let her guide his hand towards her, and he felt his cheeks heat up again as she swiped the brush against the inside of his wrist. It tickled far more than he’d thought it would — not necessarily a bad thing, though. The sensation only lasted a few seconds before she released his hands and raised her eyebrows expectantly.

Slowly, tentatively, Dan lowered his arm, flipping it up so that he could see the soft, paler skin on the inside of his wrist.

In the end, the powder she’d applied was so light that he almost couldn’t see it. It wasn’t until he tilted his arm back and forth that he was able to see how the powder caught the light. She was right — it was just a faint shimmer, one he might not notice if he wasn’t trying to find it.

Still, the barely-there glitter was hypnotizing, and he found himself unable to look away.

“It’s so pretty,” he breathed, more to himself than to the woman.

“I’ll put it on your eyes, then,” she said definitively, leaving no room for Dan to refuse. “If you hate it, it’s easy to take off,” she added, softer this time, as she pointed to a packet labeled makeup wipes. Dan nodded, letting her do as she pleased.

As he pleased.

Tonight’s interview wasn’t a now or never moment — there would be plenty of other opportunities to make the statements he wanted to make — but it felt just as heavy. This appearance, this interview on The Tonight Show, was his first deliberate appearance after coming out just two nights before. Big gestures, actions that spoke louder than words — those had always mattered to Dan. Deep in his gut, something about this moment — a moment when he knew the largest possible audience would be watching — was calling for a grand display, and he was determined to do it justice.

“Go on then,” Dan whispered, taking a deep breath and then closed his eyes.

The tickling sensation felt different on his eyelids, but it still made his skin prickle in the same pleasant way. It was gentler and far more precise than when Darcy had tried to do it, and some part of Dan — a part of himself that he didn’t fully understand — relished the soft caress of the brush.

Truth be told, he didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that he liked the makeup brush — and the makeup — so much.

He liked being a boy, that much he knew. He liked his body, he liked his identity. But he didn’t necessarily like the box that society tried to confine him with. There were some things, some things that were traditionally labeled as for girls, that he wanted to be able to embrace on occasion.

And as the soft bristles brushed glimmer powder across his skin, Dan knew this was a particular box he wanted to break out of every now and again.

The brush disappeared, and Dan started to open his eyes, but was interrupted by a fierce cry from the makeup artist. “Wait!” she exclaimed hurriedly. “I want you to get the full effect before you decide!”

Dan clamped his eyes shut again, inhaling another long breath. “Okay, just tell me what to do then.” Nerves and excitement both chewed at his stomach, fighting for dominance. At this point, he wasn’t sure which was going to win out. He just hoped this wonderful makeup artist was fucking magical and could give him the confidence to actually do this.

“Just keep your eyes shut,” she instructed. Dan huffed out his breath, keeping his eyes tightly shut. “Well, okay a little looser than that,” the makeup artist chuckled, her thumb lightly brushing over Dan’s eyelid.

Dan did his best to relax his face and let whatever was going to happen, happen. If worse came to worst, he could have her take it off.

The sweeping, soft tickle of the brush disappeared, and suddenly a more pointed, but not quite harsh, touch replaced it. The touch sweeped right alone his eyelid, just barely dipping out onto his temple. Late night youtube binges told him that this was probably eyeliner — and that it was probably some amount of a wing (a term he only knew after three consecutive hours of Manny MUA).

After just another drag of what felt like a pen, the makeup artist prompted, “You can open now.”

For once, Dan didn’t hesitate tonight. He knew whatever he saw, it’d probably be nice. Even if he didn’t want to wear it on television, he’d interacted with this girl long enough to trust that whatever she had done was at least worthy of a private selfie before he had her remove it.

But when Dan opened his eyes, he was greeted with the lightest, gentlest glow on his eyelids, and eyeliner that was just this side of dramatic. It wasn’t wings, not in the way he’d seen on youtube binges. But it also wasn’t just eyeliner accentuating the natural line of his eye. The eyeliner stretched out from the corner of his eye, just a hair, forming into a subtle point — nothing large enough to be truly loud, but enough to be definitively there.

Dan opened his mouth to say something, but the words got caught in his mouth. To his great annoyance, he felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes — tears he was determined to not let fall. With rough determination, he forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, and cleared his voice before he tried to speak again.

“It’s great,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving his own eyes in the mirror. “Thanks.”

“Well let me put mascara on so you can get the full effect,” the woman said cheekily, waving a black tube in front of his face.

“Oh!” Dan gasped. Right — mascara. That was what had started this whole accidental makeup binge. “Go ahead, then,” Dan agreed.

He shifted his gaze up, prying his eyes open and forcing himself not to blink. The pull of the wand against his eyelashes was much more familiar — mascara was a pretty common part of stage makeup, a bit of makeup that was socially acceptable for guys to wear under certain conditions.

He loved that she was applying it after having put eyeshadow and eyeliner on.

“Okay, now tell me what you think.”

Dan’s eyes fluttered open again, appraising himself carefully in the mirror. The whole look seemed completed now that she’d added mascara. His eyes popped and his cheekbones seemed much more prominent than normal, the light reflecting off them more than usual. It wasn’t anything too radically different from how he normally looked, but still. The makeup was very clearly present. It was exactly what he’d wanted.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, his eyes staying fixed on his reflection.

“Here,” the artist said, nudging something hard into his bicep. “You should keep this.”

Dan broke his own gaze, his eyes flitting down to his arm. In the woman’s hand was the eyeshadow palette, the one that was filled with shimmery and matte monochrome powders.

“I — I couldn’t, that’s yours,” Dan stumbled in surprise.

“I want you to have it.” She offered him a kind smile and set the palette down in his lap. “I can tell you like the colors.” Knocking her shoulder against Dan’s, she smiled softly and held his gaze in the mirror.

“Still —” Dan started, not quite knowing where his rebuttal was going, just knowing he felt guilty about taking something that probably cost decent money from someone. He swallowed thickly, glancing from the artist to the palette and back up again. “I could buy my own or something.”

“I know,” she said softly, shrugging. Her eyes met his in the mirror, holding his gaze steadily. “But now you don’t have to go find the courage to do that right away. Have fun with it, see what you think.”

Dan stared down at the dozen shades of white, grey, and black, at a loss for how to use them. “I — I barely know what to do with eyeshadow, much less this many of them.” Dan sheepishly looked up at the woman, not feeling nearly worthy of such a gift.

“There are loads of youtube videos.” The woman chuckled as she dug around in her purse. “But here, take my card and we can have a little skype if you don’t know what to do.”

“Wow,” Dan mumbled, numbly reaching out for the card and blankly staring at the bold black letters spelling Sofia Ricci against the stark white background. “Okay, um, I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” Sofia said definitively. “Now about those nails.”

Dan’s eyes shot down to his hands at the completely random observation, his eyes raking over his still matte-silver fingertips. His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of Sofia’s comment.

“What about them?” he huffed, borderline offended as he glanced back up at her.

“I noticed some of them were smudged, and I was going to offer some nail polish remover, but…” Sofia trailed off, her eyes flickering down to her bag.

“But what?” Dan pushed when she didn’t finish her thought, eyes narrowed.

Bending over, Sofia dug through her bag for a second before holding out a small bottle of black nail polish in front of Dan. “Well, I thought maybe I could add some little designs over the smudges instead?”

Their eyes met in the mirror and Dan felt his heart fucking swell at how kind and supportive Sofia looked. Half an hour ago, she had just been a random makeup woman. And twenty minutes ago, she’d been offering to dress him up like Gerard Way à la 2006. But since then, she’d morphed into a supportive ally, someone who seemed to genuinely encourage Dan’s interest in all of… this.

“Hearts,” Dan said decisively, placing his hands on the table with purpose.

Sofia’s expression softened, a smile hinting at her lips. “Sure thing,” she assured as she unscrewed the black bottle with an air of confidence. Silently, she dipped a toothpick into the polish and gestured for Dan’s hand. Gently but confidently, she spread his fingers against the counter and began dotting the toothpick with intense concentration.

Somehow, the resolute attention that Sofia was giving to Dan’s nails was wildly different from the manicurist that Dan had occasionally gone to over the last few years. Sofia knew she was prepping Dan to go out in front of a massive public audience, Sofia was painstakingly painting delicate designs on Dan’s nails, Sofia was gently pushing Dan to be as authentic as he felt comfortable being.

Dan forced himself to look anywhere but his nails while Sofia worked. The whole nail polish thing — or at least wearing it in public — was new enough that it was still nerve-wracking, but he could still recall how lovely his nails had looked after the manicurist finished them earlier this week.

And he could perfectly remember the reverent look on Phil’s face when he’d noticed.

Sofia painted in silence for a few minutes, working her way through Dan’s entire right hand before she spoke again. The sound of her voice startled Dan enough that he glanced over at her.

“So,” she started tentatively. “I feel like I should confess that I saw your instagram post.”

Dan froze. “Oh,” he said, the one syllable coming out tight and short.

“I really liked it,” Sofia added softly, sounding far more tentative than she had since they’d been introduced.

Dread washed over Dan as he slowly began to process the meaning behind Sofia’s words — she clearly followed him on Instagram. She was probably a fan. In his experience, no secrets were safe with fans — that’s why he’d always had pretty much anyone he let close sign an NDA.

He hadn’t even hesitated with Sofia, though — and that was about to be his downfall. His interest in makeup was probably destined to be broadcasted all over the covers of the tabloids by this time tomorrow.

Frozen, Dan stared at himself in the mirror, unable to properly look at Sofia. Unfortunately, this meant he was forced to watch the way horror and fear flooded his own eyes. The terror was plainly written on his face, and it was impossible for Sofia not to notice it, too.

“Fuck — I mean, uh, frick, I mean —” Sofia stopped her dotting of his nails, instead looking up at him like a deer in headlights.

The expression was so startled, so genuine, that a little bit of Dan’s fears ebbed away. She looked so genuinely taken aback, so honestly scared of Dan’s reaction to what she’d said, that Dan couldn’t help but question if his worries were misplaced.

“Cursing is fine Sofia,” Dan assured her, his voice tighter than he wanted it to be. He drug his tongue along his bottom lip, trying to decide how much he wanted to allow. His eyes flickered to the eyeshadow palette and then to the business card on the table. He decided to take a leap of faith. “Just say whatever you want to say.”

“Right,” Sofia mumbled and flushed red, clearly embarrassed. “I just meant, I liked it… like, as a fan, it was good to see, but…” Her eyes didn’t quite meet Dan’s as she trailed off.

“...But?” Dan prompted, heart racing.

“But, as a fellow bisexual, it was the best post I’ve seen all year.”

“Oh,” Dan breathed, blinking rapidly in surprise. “I — I…”

Suddenly words seemed impossible to Dan — something that wasn’t exactly great since he was supposed to be talking about this very topic on national television in less than an hour. But he had hardly expected his makeup artist to broach this conversation with him (and he definitely hadn’t expected to ask for fucking eyeshadow from her).

“Sorry, I made it weird,” Sofia apologized, her gaze dropping back to her hands as she started steadily dotting another heart on Dan’s nails.

“No!” Dan exclaimed more forcefully than intended. “I mean, no,” he corrected, voice softer this time. “It’s not weird.”

Peeking up from Dan’s nails, Sofia caught his gaze in the mirror. “It’s not?”

“No. I — I didn’t realize until I came out how little bisexual representation there was out there.” Dan’s gaze flickered from Sofia’s gaze to his nails as he contemplated the decision he was making — the decision he’d technically already made. But with every word, the decision felt like more and more of an active choice. “And now… well, it doesn’t seem fair for us to keep being alone.”

“Thank you,” Sofia said softly, a hint of disbelief in her voice that Dan so desperately wished didn’t have to be there. That doubt wouldn’t exist if more people spoke up, if more people were authentic and tried to live their truth. “From all of us. It’s hard not seeing people like ourselves in the media, so what you’re doing… it means a lot.”

“Every listener I have is going to know that bisexuality is a real thing if I can help it,” Dan asserted, voice fierce for the first time that night.

“That’s the spirit,” Sofia whispered conspiratorially.

Dan nodded once, not saying anything else.

Of all the conversations he’d imagined having just before filming The Tonight Show, this certainly wasn’t one of them. But now that it had happened, it felt exactly like the conversation he’d needed — a conversation to remind him why he was so passionate about professing his bisexuality. Passion that stemmed from somewhere deeper, somewhere more important that Isabella’s whiny slander.

a/n2: look i was gonna have the interview in this chapter but i got fucking excited and carried away, okay? 

[irecommendphanfics]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Dan Howell, Phil Lester, PJ Liguori, Louise Pentland Watson, Taylor Swift, that should be it Additional Tags: famous dan, non famous phil, AU Summary:

”Phil threw his head back laughing. And Dan felt a huge urge to kiss him, which made him feel a little bit taken back. In his 23 years on earth he had met many gorgeous men whom he had felt attracted to. But never had he felt like he needed to kiss anyone before. And he couldn’t pinpoint what the difference with Phil was.”

or

A famous/non-famous AU where Dan is hopeless and Phil can’t make coffee for shit.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 22)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 9.1k story words: 176.6k (so far) chapter: 22/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: as always, a lovely thanks to @auroraphilealis for pushing me to the best i can, for pulling another 3k out of me and this chapter, and for making the editing process fun. i love you boo <3

important: i know some of my fave readers of this fic are ace and not so into smut, so going forward, i’m going to try to remember to put skippable explicit smut between ~*~*~*~* breaks for them. sorry if this is annoying for anyone else!!!

Dan woke up to the gentle brushing of fingertips up and down his bare back, the quiet thump thump, thump thump of a heart directly under his head, and the rise and fall of a stomach under his arm. Despite his sleepy brain, it didn’t take Dan more than a minute to remember who he was in bed with — who he was practically laying on top of.

Phil.

After months of dreaming, wanting, lusting, Dan had finally gotten to be with Phil last night. And holy shit, it was somehow even better than he’d imagined. Phil had been — and still was — sweet and caring, and months of friendship just seemed to heighten everything.

Eager to prolong the warm cuddles as long as possible, Dan kept his eyes shut, and tried to keep his breathing as even as possible.

It seemed to work. The room stayed silent, with the exception of Phil’s steady heartbeat, and Phil stayed still beneath Dan.

“I know you’re awake, Daniel,” Phil whispered, his hand not stopping its calming movement along Dan’s spine.

Fuck.

Disgruntled at being caught, Dan buried his face into Phil’s chest with a groan. “No ‘m not,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against Phil.

“Mmmm,” Phil hummed. He didn’t sound like he believed Dan. “Whatever you say, dear.”

“Shhhh,” Dan hushed. He was struggling to decide if he wanted to will himself back to sleep, or stay awake so he could savor laying in Phil’s arms.

His mind decided for him, though. Apparently, it was too happy about being this close to Phil to shut up long enough for him to doze off again.

“How did y’know?” Dan murmured when he’d given up on more sleep.

“Know what?” Phil asked.

“That I was ‘wake.”

“Oh.” Phil’s spare hand, the one that wasn’t tracing lines on Dan’s back, nudged the fingers of the hand that Dan had looped around Phil’s torso. “Your grip on me tightened.”

“Damn,” Dan cursed, even as he squeezed Phil in a hug for a moment. “How long’ve y’been awake?”

“I think about half an hour.”

“You could’ve gotten up if y’wanted to,” Dan half-heartedly offered, even though he would have been extremely disappointed — and worried — if he’d woken up and Phil hadn’t been in bed with him.

Phil pressed a kiss to the top of Dan’s head. “I didn’t want to.”

Dan felt his cheeks heat up, and let out a high, flustered whine. “Phiw!”

Phil giggled, his hand slipping around Dan’s waist to give him a firm hug.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Phil sounded like he genuinely cared. Nearly a year of dating Isabella had made Dan forget what it was like to have a partner that was concerned about his well being.

“Amazing,” Dan sighed. He took inventory of his body, noticing how relaxed his muscles felt, and that there was a spot on his neck that felt more tender than usual. He was also rapidly growing aware of the fact that his stomach and chest, as well as Phil’s, were sticky with the remnants of dried cum that they’d only made half an effort to wipe away last night. “And gross,” Dan added with a groan.

Phil chuckled, causing his chest to vibrate under Dan’s ear. “Yeah, we didn’t do a good job of cleaning up, huh?”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Dan muttered in agreement. He very deliberately moved his hand further up Phil’s chest to avoid the worst of the remaining mess.

“Do you have plans today?” Phil asked. His fingers resumed their gentle stroking, this time along Dan’s side.

Dan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what day it was, much less if he had any plans. It was hard to think about anything other than the fact that he was currently laying in bed with Phil, completely naked.

“I’m seeing Louise t’night,” he said eventually. “And I was planning t’go to the studio, but not ‘nymore.”

“Why not?”

“Tired. Lazy. Comfortable.” While all of those excuses were true, the main reason was that Dan felt entirely too fucked-out and happy after last night to possibly concentrate on music.

Well, that, and he was hoping he could entice Phil into another round.

“In that case,” Phil said slyly. “How about showers, coffee, and then we get back in bed?”

Dan perked up at Phil’s suggestion, propping himself on one elbow so he could “Really?”

“Yeah.” Phil grinned softly at Dan. “I don’t wanna let go of you yet. Not if I don’t have to.”

Dan rose further up, resting his forearm on Phil’s chest and pushing himself so that his face was even with Phil’s. “You’re amazing,” he whispered before closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to Phil’s. Their lips moved languidly together, and Phil’s tongue darted out to lick Dan’s bottom lip. On instinct, Dan’s mouth parted, letting Phil slip inside.

The rushed, desperate urgency from last night was gone, but their touches were no less passionate, no less hot. Their tongues moved together, neither taking control, as they slowly explored each other’s mouths.

Phil pulled Dan away slightly, startling him out of the kiss.

“What?” Dan whined, disgruntled at the interruption.

Phil pulled back, his lips now too far away for Dan to comfortably kiss. “As nice as this is, darling, we’re a mess. If you have spare sheets, I’ll make the bed while you shower.”

As much as Dan appreciated Phil’s offer to be helpful, he had no desire to let Phil out of his sight for a second.

Dan shifted so that he was hovering more directly over Phil and pressed another, faster kiss to Phil’s lips. This time, Dan let his hands trail down Phil’s torso, going all the way to his belly button and doing his best to avoid the remaining mess.

“Or,” Dan murmured against Phil’s lips as he suggestively ran his fingers through the hair that ran downwards, not quite letting his hand drift as far as Phil’s cock. “We could deal with the sheets later and shower together.”

Phil’s head tipped back, his eyes fluttered shut, and a quiet groan tumbled out of his mouth. “I like the way you think, Howell.” Phil’s voice, which had already been scruffy from sleep, dropped an octave and — fuck, that was hot. There was no way Dan was going to be able to get out of bed without sporting a semi.

But the least he could do was make sure Phil was just as riled up as he was.

Fingers trailing farther south to tease at Phil’s cock, Dan pressed a final kiss to Phil’s lips before diverting downward. Last night, Dan had been too drunk on the feeling of finally being with Phil that he hadn’t had the sense to explore Phil’s body — something he very much wanted to do now. Somehow, during just one round of sex, Phil had found so many of Dan’s turn-ons, and Dan was eager to do the same for Phil now.

Curious to see Phil’s reaction, Dan pressed wet, sloppy kisses down Phil’s jaw, looping around to the underside of his chin. All Dan got for his efforts, though, was a small hmmm, which wasn’t quite the enthusiastic reaction that he was looking for. Phil hadn’t been particularly loud last night, and Dan was determined to draw some noises out of him this morning.

Dan worked his way back up Phil’s neck, experimenting as he went. Dan kissed and sucked, and even nipped at Phil’s throat, but none of it got a bigger reaction from Phil. Shifting tactics, Dan worked his way to Phil’s ear.

Curiously, Dan darted his tongue out and licked. The breath that Phil was drawing in caught, his body froze. It was either a great sign or a terrible one, but Dan was fairly confident that Phil liked it.

Without warning, Dan drew Phil’s earlobe into his mouth, and bit lightly. This time, Dan was rewarded with a soft whimper from Phil, and a tight squeeze of his ass. That was a definite improvement.

Good.

Dan wanted more though. Slipping out of Phil’s hold, Dan pushed himself further up, and straddled Phil’s waist, his arse lightly resting on Phil’s cock. Just because he could, Dan rocked his hips down, grinding Phil into him.

Phil’s hands flew to Dan’s hips and gripped tight, squeezing around the bone. The pressure from Phil’s long, nimble fingers was electrifying, and Dan wasn’t sure he’d ever get tired of the way he felt when Phil touched him.

Choosing to ignore the way Phil’s hands tried to pull Dan’s hips down again — at least for now — Dan leaned forward and resumed his exploration of Phil’s body instead.

Phil’s chest was long and pale and — ugh. Covered in dried cum still. Maybe Dan would have to wait until they were actually in the shower after all. Nevertheless, his mouth skimmed over Phil’s clavicles half heartedly for a moment, genuinely disappointed that he couldn’t have more of Phil right now.

Not quite willing to give this up without some kind of teasing, Dan gave into the pressure of Phil’s hands on his hips, and rubbed his arse against Phil’s cock again. Dan’s lips found Phil’s and kissed him hungrily. Their lips found a fast and biting rhythm, and their hips moved together with quick and desperate thrusts.

Dan kissed Phil hard, licking his tongue into the caverns of Phil’s mouth in a way that he hadn’t last night. Phil thrusted up and up, his cock nestled between the bare cheeks of Dan’s arse. It was a welcomed sensation that Dan hadn’t felt in a long time, and he rocked his hips down faster and faster, seeking more of it.

Abruptly, Phil tore his lips from Dan’s and his hips slowed — but didn’t stop — their movements. “Okay, okay, okay,” he said hurriedly against Dan’s cheek, sounding completely winded. “Let’s go before we get carried away.”

Dan hummed quiet agreement, but continued kissing Phil all the same. Dan pointedly ground down, causing Phil’s cock to slide between his cheeks, Dan’s own dick rubbing against Phil’s stomach. Dan’s heavy breathing twisted into a deep, breathy moan.

“Can’t imagine how that would happen,” Dan murmured against Phil’s lips. Phil kissed back hungrily, mumbling something that sounded like screw it.

Shit, fuck.

Dan wanted to shower, though. He wanted to shower with Phil, and he wanted to do it now — especially since now he wouldn’t have to be the only one to crawl out of bed with a raging erection.

This time, Dan was the one who unexpectedly pulled away from the kiss, leaving Phil gasping for breath and desperate for more.

Satisfied with the mess he’d made of Phil, Dan unabashedly threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, making his way to the en suite bathroom. “Okay, now we can go,” he said. As he pushed the door open, though, Dan realized that Phil wasn’t following behind him.

Turning around, Dan saw that Phil was still on the bed, staring after Dan. Now that the blankets were gone, Dan had a stellar view of Phil — all of Phil.

Although Dan would never admit it, he’d gone on a few deep tumblr dives in the AmazingPhil tag, and he’d noticed that one of the popular fan theories said that Phil was packing. When Dan had first seen the consensus, he hadn’t been able to help hoping it was true.

And now that Dan had seen, had touched, Phil while he was naked and hard, Dan could confirm those headcannons with absolute certainty.

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Dan trailed his eyes up from Phil’s thick cock to his face. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Phil said, shaking his head as he if were pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Just enjoying the view.” His eyes raked up and down Dan’s naked body again, not bothering to hide the way he lingered on Dan’s cock for a beat longer than the rest of his body. The blatant lust in Phil’s eyes calmed any self-conscious fears that Dan would have had, and he just felt sexy under Phil’s gaze.

“You can enjoy it a lot better if you come shower with me, nerd,” Dan teased.

“Touché.” Phil climbed out of bed and followed after Dan.

In the bathroom, Dan fiddled with the shower tap, turning the water on as hot as he dared without risking burning them. While he waited for the water to warm up, he moved to the mirror to inspect just how bad the damage from last night really was.

As he suspected, there was an angry red, beautiful hickey blossoming on his neck, just below his jaw.

“Guess I’m definitely telling Louise tonight, then,” Dan chuckled, touching the mark and watching it darken in the mirror.

Phil stepped behind him, slipping his arms around Dan’s waist and pulling him close against his chest. Phil’s head came to rest on Dan’s shoulder, and his eyes met Dan’s in the mirror.

“Sorry about that,” Phil apologized, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

“I’m not,” Dan smiled, dropping his hand and lacing his fingers over Phil’s. “It felt really fucking good.”

“Oh did it?” Phil teased, a mischievous glint in his eye. He winked at Dan — well, more like aggressively blinked — and turned his head so that he could kiss Dan’s neck. “I couldn’t tell,” he murmured against Dan’s skin, the vibrations of his low voice shooting down Dan’s spine and straight to his cock.

Proving both of their points, Dan’s head tipped back to land on Phil’s shoulder, and a low whine escaped his mouth.

“I don’t —” he gasped, futilely trying to maintain an ounce of his composure. “—usually like that.”

Phil’s lips stilled against Dan’s neck, frozen in their pilgrimage to tint the whole expanse red. “What do you mean?”

“My neck,” Dan gasped, still trying to regain control of his breath. “I don’t usually let people touch it.”

Much to Dan’s disappointment, Phil’s lips drew back, and he straightened up. “Sorry.” This time Phil did sound sincere. “You should have told me to stop.”

“No!” Dan nearly shouted. His eyes sprung open, and sought Phil’s in the mirror. “I like it with you.”

Showing Phil just how much he liked it, Dan wrapped a hand in Phil’s hair and guided his head back to his neck. Phil pressed a few tentative kisses along Dan’s collarbone, inching slightly upward to what only barely counted as Dan’s neck.

“I swear,” Dan promised. “It feels really fucking good, Phil.” Dan’s assurance was swallowed by a low mewl as Phil nipped lightly at his skin. “Fuck, seriously,” he added as a breathily afterthought.

“Why haven’t you liked it with other people, then?” Phil sounded confused, and maybe still a little worried.

Dan shrugged, inadvertently jostling Phil’s head. “It —” Dan cut himself off, not sure the truth would be too much right now.

Phil glanced forward, meeting Dan’s eyes in the mirror before looking back down at Dan’s neck and pressing soft, encouraging kisses into his shoulder. “It what?” Phil prompted gently.

“It always felt too intimate,” Dan said as casually as he could while Phil’s lips were still right there.

Seemingly encouraged by Dan’s words, Phil moved higher on Dan’s neck and sucked lightly at his pulse point. “But it’s not with me?”

Dan had half a mind to think that Phil was both curious and smug.

“No, it’s great with you,” Dan assured him. His voice came out hushed, almost like he was afraid to break the delicate mood that had been created. The intimate mood — fuck that was new. And good.

In response, Phil properly latched onto Dan’s neck and began sucking a new hickey into the patterns. “Good,” Phil muttered into Dan’s neck, the vibrations of his voice sending tingles through Dan’s neck and all the way down to his stomach. “I’m glad.”

“Me t-too,” Dan stuttered, a smile pulling at his lips despite how fucking turned on he was by everything. Phil seemed to be taking immense satisfaction in the fact that he could pleasure Dan in a way other’s couldn’t, and that knowledge was affecting both Dan’s mind and his cock.

In the mirror, Dan let his eyes drift from where they’d been trained on Phil’s mouth on his neck upwards, taking in the rest of his reflection. His chest had a red flush to it, and his pupils were blown wide, and —

What the fuck.

Ripping away from Phil, Dan abruptly leaned in closer to the mirror to get a better look at himself.

“Is that cum in my hair?” Dan squeaked. His hand flew up to touch the stiff, almost crusty, pearly mess in the curls on the side of his head.

Over his shoulder, Phil looked chagrined; his hands flew up to hide his rapidly reddening cheeks and he let out a high pitch squeal.

“Philip Michael Lester!” Dan squawked, abruptly turning around to properly face Phil. Dan grabbed Phil’s wrists and pulled them down so that he could see Phil’s face. “How the fuck did you get cum in my hair last night? You weren’t anywhere near there!”

“Er,” Phil’s gaze was focused behind Dan, seemingly on the toiletries that were lined up neatly on the counter. “I suppose there might have still been, um, some, on my hand last night.”

Dan’s brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to remember what exactly had happened last night. He remembered having an amazing orgasm, and Phil coming at almost the exact same time. He remembered Phil stroking both of their cocks and working them through their orgasms. And he remembered Phil’s hands tangling in his hair when they were both spent.

Oh.

Dan’s cheeks flushed red as he processed what must have happened last night — and how he must have looked curled up on Phil’s chest this morning.

“You’re ridiculous,” Dan said with an uncontrollably wide grin. As much of a pain as cum was to get out of hair, Dan couldn’t find it in him to be annoyed about it. It was objectively filthy, but not necessarily in a bad way. It complimented the hickey well, anyway.

Besides, it’d been a long time since he’d been covered in cum other than his own.

“Come on,” Phil pulled him by the hand towards the shower. “It’s my fault it’s there. I’ll get it out for you.”

The water was warm, and the shower was already full of steam by the time they stepped in. Phil didn’t waste any time in pushing Dan under the spray and searching for the shampoo, apparently eager to fix the mess of Dan’s hair.

Phil fumbled with the bottle and squirted a glob into his hands. Between his hands, Phil worked the shampoo into a bubbly lather before spreading it into Dan’s hair. Long fingers drew careful circles into Dan’s head, massaging his scalp and tangling in his hair.

Other than his hairdresser, and maybe his mother when he was about five, Dan had never had someone else wash his hair and jesus, he’d had no idea what he was missing.

“Mmm,” Dan sighed contentedly, and leaned in slightly to the pressure of Phil’s hands. It was too heavenly to resist.

A quiet, amused chuckle bubbled out of Phil. “Do you like that?” he asked knowingly.

“It’s amazing,” Dan murmured. He let his eyes fall shut, and looped his arms loosely around Phil’s waist, leaving enough space between them that Phil could still comfortably reach his head.

Phil’s hands paid special attention to the mess on the side of Dan’s head and took care to thoroughly wash his hair. Slowly, Phil’s hands continued their soothing ministrations, shifting to the back, then the top, and then the sides again, over and over. Time seemed to fade away as Dan melted into the soft intimacy of Phil taking care of him, and the slight tugging at his hair.

“Come here,” Phil whispered after a while, gently guiding Dan’s head back under the stream of water. With great care, Phil washed the shampoo out of Dan’s hair, and made sure none of the bubbles dripped down onto his face.

It wasn’t until the pressure of Phil’s hands disappeared that Dan opened his eyes again, prepared to complain about the sudden lack of attention. In front of him, though, Phil was pouring an obscene amount of body wash onto Dan’s loofah.

Phil set the bottle back down on the shelf and pulled Dan forward, out of the direct stream of the water. “Here,” Phil said softly. “Let’s get your chest clean, too.”

“That’s kind of my fault,” Dan half-heartedly chuckled. He had no real desire to derail Phil’s intentions to wash him; Dan’s goals for the shower could wait.

“I’d say it’s at least half mine.” Phil smirked.

Dan wasn’t sure what Phil meant was half his — the fault or the mess — but Dan was happy they shared it either way.

Phil reached out, and tenderly rubbed the loofah in circles on Dan’s chest. Phil started high, the loofah dipping into the divots of Dan’s collarbones, and slowly worked his way down towards Dan’s belly button.

It felt heavenly, being taken care of like this. Never once had Dan been in a relationship where someone had paid this much careful attention to him, especially this early on. He’d always been the person to take care of his partner, the person pulling his partner in for cuddles and affection, the person initiating intimate contact that wasn’t sex.

Dan should have known that Phil would be different.

Being pampered like this hadn’t been what Dan had in mind for this shower — and he certainly intended to get around to his plans eventually — but it was too good to not give into. At some point, Phil’s other hand had joined the loofah, and was tracing soapy circles on Dan’s lower back. Dan was torn between wanting to press backwards into Phil’s hand, and lean further forward into Phil.

“I think that’s as clean as your stomach can get,” Phil said, withdrawing the loofah from Dan.

“Thank you.” Dan leaned forward and kissed Phil, slowly shifting the mood from soft back to heated.

“My turn,” Dan murmured with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

With a wink, Dan stole the loofah from Phil and brought it up to his chest, making much faster work of cleaning the dried mess off of Phil. Dan’s movements lacked the gentle caress of Phil’s, and were pushing down down down much faster.

Unlike Phil, Dan had his sights on something else.

Back in bed, Dan had been eager to explore Phil’s chest, to kiss and lick and nibble at as much of Phil as he could, but that wasn’t a particularly sexy thing to do when they were both covered in dried cum. So right now, Dan just needed Phil clean; there would be more time for intimate bathing in the future.

When the last traces of their activities from last night were washed from Phil’s torso, Dan carelessly dropped the loofah onto the floor and spun Phil around, forcing them to switch places. Dan guided Phil backwards so that he was directly under the shower head, and helped him rinse off all the the bubbles.

“That’s better,” Phil said as he reached for the handle to turn the faucet off.

With faster instincts than Dan realized he had, he seized Phil’s hand in mid-air. “What do you think you’re doing?” Dan asked, an eyebrow cocked at Phil.

Phil’s brows furrowed and his eyes flickered down to both of their stiff erections. “Getting out?”

“Oh no you don’t, Lester,” Dan said impishly. Before Phil could respond, Dan pushed him backwards, sending him softly crashing into the tiled wall of the shower. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“But I thought you wanted to —” Phil’s eyes followed Dan’s hands as they reached for Phil’s waist and slid down “Oh,” he gasped. “In here.”

“Yeah,” Dan teased with a playful, mocking edge to his voice. “In here.”

“You’re really something, Dan,” Phil mumbled, awestruck.

Dan smirked at Phil, taking that as enough permission to lean forward and finally begin exploring Phil’s body. His shoulders were broader than Dan’s, and definitely broader than Isabella’s, which meant that there was more skin that Dan could ravish. He worked his way across them, dropping kisses every few centimeters.

~*~*~*~*

Determined to find the spots that drove Phil crazy, Dan ducked lower. He traced his lips along Phil's collarbone, and dipped down, suddenly taking Phil’s nipple into his mouth. Beneath his lips, Dan could feel Phil’s chest huff with a sudden intake of breath. Spurred on by Phil’s reaction, Dan grazed his teeth against Phil’s chest and darted his tongue out to circle the pert nub.

“Shit — Dan,” Phil whimpered, so quietly that Dan almost didn’t hear him above the rushing of the water. The broken sound of Phil’s voice went straight to Dan’s cock, and he could feel a bead of precum leak out.

Taking his time, Dan kissed his way across Phil’s chest and gave the same attention to Phil’s other nipple, lavishing it with kitten licks and gentle bites. Once Dan was satisfied with the way Phil’s nipples had turned from pink to dark red, and were standing more erectly, he let his mouth slide down again. He kissed his way to Phil’s stomach, taking a moment to dip his tongue into Phil’s belly button. Phil’s head tipped back, smacking into the wall with a loud thunk, but Phil didn’t seem to notice.

Glancing up, Dan saw that Phil’s eyes were clamped shut, and his hands were spread flat against the wall near his hips, his fingers white from the pressure.

Dan slowly sunk down to his knees. Phil’s cock was right there, swollen and red, thick and long.

“Look at me,” Dan demanded as he nipped at Phil’s stomach to get his attention. Phil’s head snapped forward and his eyes flew open, his gaze frantically scanning over Dan. Dan was sure it was quite the sight; him on his knees, his head only centimeters away from Phil’s cock.

Dan’s tongue darted out to lick his lips as he hungrily eyed it. “Can I?” Dan asked, his mouth already close enough to blow air over Phil’s tip when he spoke.

“Please,” Phil begged quietly. His lips barely moved enough for the breath of a word to escape.

Dan didn’t respond, instead answering Phil’s plea by wrapping his lips around the head of Phil’s cock, one hand instinctively coming up to steady Phil’s base. A shuddering sigh shook out of Phil as Dan’s his tongue dipped into his slit and lapping up the leaking bead of precome.

When Dan had first started sleeping with men, he’d worried that the taste would bother him. He had been pleasantly surprised to find that it was fine, that some men even tasted sort of alright. But holy fuck, just like everything else about Phil, his taste was amazing.

Determined to make this good, to make it last, Dan teased at Phil’s tip, circling the head with his tongue and lapping at Phil’s slit. His hand just barely stroked Phil’s base, his thumb dipping down to brush against Phil’s balls.

“Daaan,” Phil groaned quietly, begging. Pleading.

“Mmmm,” Dan moaned, his mouth vibrating around Phil. Dan sunk forward, swallowing more and more of Phil’s cock at a tantalizingly slow pace, his tongue dragging along the sensitive vein.

By the time Dan’s lips finally, finally grazed Phil’s base, Phil was a panting mess. For so long, Dan had been dreaming of seeing Phil in this position — wanton and above him. Dan couldn't help opening his eyes to stare up while he had Phil’s entire cock in his mouth, the tip pushing passed his gag reflex.

Towering above Dan, Phil looked an absolute mess. His head was still tipped back against the tiled wall, frozen where it had dropped again. His eyes were half-lidded, now. Through the small slits of Phil’s eyes, Dan could see that his gaze was fixed straight down, focused on Dan.

Phil’s cock was thick enough that Dan’s mouth was stretched wide, his lips clamping tightly around the shaft as he bobbed up and down at an agonizingly slow pace. Dan’s mouth felt full, useful in a way it never did when he was with a woman. The heavy weight of cock on his tongue, and the faint pulsing of the head near the back of his throat, was intoxicating — and satisfied Dan’s minor oral fixation.

Hopefully, it was a filthy, hot picture for Phil.

It may have been a while since Dan had done this, but god was he happy to be doing it again, and god was he happy that it was Phil’s cock he was sucking. The shocking newness of having Phil’s dick in his mouth started to fade, and Dan gave the blowjob his all, determined to give Phil the best he’d ever had.

Holding the base of Phil’s cock in his hand, Dan pulled all the way off, watching it twitch in anticipation as it hung erect between Phil’s legs. Dan’s breath blew across Phil’s tip once, twice, before he sunk down again, faster this time, and took him all the way to the base in one fast swallow.

A quiet, low groan tumbled from Phil’s mouth as he hit the back of Dan’s throat. Dan was out of practice, but he quickly relaxed his muscles and opened a little wider, guiding Phil in as far as possible. He fucking loved deepthroating.

“God, you’re good a’this,” Phil moaned quietly.

Jesus fuck. Dan’s cock twitched in direct response to Phil’s compliment. He’d been hard before, but up until now he’d been content to ignore his own erection. But now, the need to give into his own pleasure was almost overwhelming and the pulsing need in his own dick was distracting.

“Phiw,” Dan moaned around Phil’s cock, his free hand seeking out his own cock and giving a few rough tugs. He didn’t want much — certainly not enough to finish himself, or even really get himself going — but he needed something to release the edge.

The loose pressure of his own hand on his cock was maddening, and Dan was tempted to give in, to turn his focus towards stroking himself. But that’s not why Dan had coaxed Phil into his shower — and besides, Dan had gotten off with his left hand a few too many times in the last couple of months. So Dan let go of himself, and turned the entirety of his attention back to Phil.

Without giving any warning, Dan’s hands flew up to brace Phil’s upper thighs, and he sunk down at a new, faster pace. Beneath his hands, Phil’s hips were canting forward, fucking lightly into Dan’s mouth. Siliently urging him to continue, Dan released some of the pressure of his hands, letting Phil thrust forward with more force.

Dan took care to drag his tongue along the underside of Phil’s shaft and lap at his slit on every bob, glancing up at Phil through his eyelashes the entire time.

So okay, maybe Phil just wasn’t that loud in bed, Dan realized, because Phil was definitely enjoying himself.

His breath was coming in short huffs and sharp gasps, his hips were pushing against Dan’s hold, itching to thrust harder into Dan’s mouth. Rosy pink bruises were blossoming on Phil’s chest and stomach, marking Dan’s path from Phil’s chin to his groin.

Phil was wrecked and, frankly, so was Dan.

It might have been greedy, but Dan wanted just a bit more, and from the way Phil was writhing against the wall, Phil was desperate for more, too.

Dan’s hands slid from their purchase on Phil’s thighs and found Phil’s wrists. Forcefully, he yanked Phil’s hands from the wall and brought them to his head, encouraging Phil’s fingers to tangle in his wet curls.

Dan broke his ministrations just long enough to pull off Phil’s cock and murmur a hoarse, “pull.”

Phil didn’t need to be told twice. His hands seized Dan’s hair and tugged, using the leverage to move Dan at the pace Phil needed. It was fast — much faster than Dan had been going before, and he was completely incapable of incorporating any proper skill at this point. But even without the licking, sucking, and stroking, Phil was still falling apart from Dan’s tongue alone.

Each yank on Dan’s hair, and every quiet moan from Phil’s lips, dragged Dan unrelentingly closer and closer to his own release.

“Fuck, Dan, you’re so—” Phil’s words dwindled into a breathy groan when Dan shifted his hands, lightly massaging Phil’s balls in one hand and pressing firmly against Phil’s perineum with the other.

“Sh-shit!” Phil’s finger’s sharply pulled at Dan’s hair, forcing him all the way off his cock. “C-close,” Phil panted, one hand reaching for his own dick. Dan knocked Phil’s hand out of the way, guiding it back to his tangled hair.

“Good,” Dan panted, hoping to sound cheeky, but instead his voice just sounded wrecked and god was that hot. “Me too,” he added, abandoning all flirty pretenses and sinking forward onto Phil’s cock again.

A soft grunt escaped Phil’s throat, pulling a louder, longer moan from Dan.

“Y’ don't have to s-swallow,” Phil stuttered, his eyes never leaving Dan’s lips on his cock.

Dan’s only response was to dig his fingers further into Phil’s perineum, finally finding his prostate and eliciting a hushed whine from him.

Beneath Dan’s massaging fingers, he could feel Phil’s balls drawn up, could feel Phil tense and freeze.

And then he could feel Phil let go.

Dan felt Phil’s cock pulse in his mouth, felt the white hot liquid hit the back of his throat, warm and salty and so fucking amazing.

“You feel so good, your mouth is so good, god, Dan,” Phil babbled, on the verge of incoherent, as his cock continued to pump cum into Dan’s mouth. Moaning around Phil’s cock, Dan swallowed every last drop of it, his hands continuing their ministrations and mouth hungrily sucking around Phil’s dick.

The praise, the hair pulling, the twitching of Phil’s cock in his mouth — it all had Dan teetering so close to his own orgasm that he dropped one hand from Phil and grasped his own cock, pulling roughly and desperately.

It was only a matter of strokes before Dan was pushed over the edge, too. He tensed, his attention split between the pleasure of his own cock and the weight of Phil’s dick in his mouth. Dan’s body shook as his orgasm ran through him, and he came in messy spurts on the shower floor.

His orgasm wracked his body in intense, heavenly waves. Even though Dan had technically finished himself, it was so much better than anytime he’d ever masturbated. The feeling of Phil’s cock pulsing in his mouth, and the desperate pulling of Phil’s hands in his hair made everything hotter.

When Phil’s cock started to soften, and Dan’s cock began to ache with overstimulation, Dan pulled off Phil, immediately sinking all the way down to the floor. His forehead helplessly crashed into Phil’s thigh, his hands coming up to cling at Phil’s shin like he was a life raft. Dan was too drained to hold himself up, and too desperate to be close to Phil to lean against the wall instead. The water was beginning to run lukewarm, but right now, Dan couldn’t be arsed enough to care.

~*~*~*~*

“Come up here,” Phil beckoned, his hand weakly tugging at Dan’s curls. He was still out of breath, and he sounded utterly blissed out. Dan had no idea how he was even talking.

“Can’t,” Dan mumbled between shaky breaths into Phil’s knee.

Phil’s hands shifted on Dan’s head, this time gently running through the soaked, tangled locks. “Wanna help y’finish,” Phil slurred.

Oh.

“Um,” Dan mumbled. Bashfully, he buried his face even more entirely into Phil’s thigh, arms fully wrapping around his leg and squeezing to slide himself closer. “No need,” Dan muttered.

Beneath his forehead, Dan felt Phil’s body shift sharply, and the hand in his hair tightened its hold for a split second before relaxing.

Gently, Phil pulled on Dan’s hair and coaxed Dan’s face away from his thigh. “Look up, baby,” Phil commanded softly.

Dan’s gaze trailed upwards, finally meeting Phil’s. Above him, Phil was staring down with a soft, disbelieving smile. His eyes flicked from Dan’s face and scanned down his body, no doubt able to see his softening cock and the white lines that still streaked the tile between them.

“You’re too perfect, Howell,” Phil whispered, disbelief and awe etched in his voice. He leaned down and tipped Dan’s head further back, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Did you really come just from sucking me off?” Phil asked quietly, amazed and shocked.

A warm blush worked its way from Dan’s chest to his ears, and he hoped the heat of the shower was enough to disguise it.

“Shuddup,” Dan mumbled bashfully, hiding his face in Phil’s legs. A light, soft touch ruffled his head as Phil’s fingers softly raked through Dan’s hair.

“That’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” Phil’s words came out in a low whine, and Dan was a least a little satisfied about that, and he already wanted to spend the rest of eternity topping all of Phil’s previous experiences.

And if Phil really was that turned on by Dan coming just from blowing Phil, god was this going to go well. Because Dan wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to suck Phil’s cock and not come, and god did he want to do that again and again.

Eventually, Phil straightened up, the sudden movement sending Dan back into the water’s path, and jarring him out of his thoughts. The look on his face suggested he had regained control of himself and was read to get out. “I’ll get coffee started for us, come out when you’re ready. Take your time.”

Exhausted and euphoric, Dan unraveled himself from Phil and shifted his weight to the wall beside him. He flashed what he hoped was a reassuring and grateful smile up at Phil as he stepped out of the shower.

The shower door shut behind Phil with a muted click, and Dan watched his silhouette through the glass. Phil wrapped not one, not two, but three of Dan’s big, fluffy towels around himself — leaving just one for Dan. Not that Dan particularly cared. He’d happily trot out to the kitchen completely naked knowing it was Phil who was going to be there.

Dan allowed himself a few more minutes to regain his breath and finally process everything that had happened now that he was alone. Even though he had been building towards this thing with Phil for months, a part of him had never expected to actually get here — and he certainly hadn’t expected it to be this good, this safe, this happy when they finally went for it.

Barely twelve hours ago, Dan had been fighting with Isabella in B ‘n G, and somehow that had led to that sweet, smiley first kiss he’d shared with Phil last night. How? How the fuck had a raging fight with his ex-girlfriend turned into getting together with the boy of his dreams?

Literally anyone but Phil would probably have run screaming.

Jesus, how the fuck had he gotten so lucky.

When he felt confident that he could walk again, Dan washed his cum down the drain, and pushed himself up off the ground. His knees protested, angry at kneeling on the hard wet tile for so long. Dan couldn’t bring himself to be upset by it though; he’d enjoyed every moment of sucking Phil off, and he’d eagerly do it again and again.

After turning off the water, Dan finally stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with the remaining towell, eager to get back to Phil’s side. On his way to the kitchen, he stopped only briefly in his bedroom, pulling on a tight, black pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. Hopefully whatever Phil had in mind for today wouldn’t require more clothing, because Dan’s ideal plans included burrowing in Phil’s arms and not leaving bed until he had to get ready for Louise’s.

In the kitchen, Dan found Phil in a similar state of dress — the exact same actually. It appeared that Phil had helped himself to a pair of Dan’s pants and fuck, if Dan hadn’t just come, or if he was five years younger, he’d push Phil against the counter and blow him again.

As it was, it was probably a good thing Dan wasn’t ready to push Phil up another wall, because every single one of the cabinets were opened wide and he’d probably end up with a concussion. Phil’s head had disappeared into the one to the right of the sink, his tight arse sticking out as he leaned forward.

“Can I help you with something, Philip?” Dan quipped. He slid behind Phil and wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist.

Phil jumped, knocking his head into the shelf of the cabinet. Dan muffled a laugh behind his hand, too endeared by the soft fiddlesticks that Phil muttered to openly make fun of him.

“Mugs?” Phil asked, spinning around to face Dan. “I can only find this one.”

Dan’s eyes followed Phil’s gesture to the counter, although he didn’t need to. He knew the only mug that Phil could be pointing to was the polka dotted one his had sister painted.

“Right,” Dan said flatly, not answering Phil’s question at all.

“Are they somewhere else, or…?” Phil asked when Dan didn’t elaborate.

“No,” Dan averted his gaze, landing instead on the one other mug he owned. It was the pink one from his grandmother; he’d set it in the breakfast bar and shoved some fake flowers in it for decoration. That was all it could hold now. The glue that held the sentimental chunks together wouldn’t be able to withstand large amounts of liquid.

Dan swallowed and looked back to Phil. “There’s kind of just that one,” he admitted, embarrassment taking over his voice and his face.

Phil’s brows furrowed, confusion etched on his face. “I know you live alone, but, um, why?”

Releasing Phil, Dan stepped back and dragged his hands roughly down his face. “It’s not a cheerful story,” he warned, dropping his hands back to his sides.

The confusion on Phil’s face twisted into concern. “What happened?”

“Isabella,” Dan said simply. When Phil didn’t say anything, Dan elaborated. “She showed up one day, pissed as all hell, and basically destroyed my kitchen, chucking all of my mugs onto the floor in the process.”

Dan nodded towards the mug Phil has sat on the counter. “That’s the only one that survived. It was in the other room, thank god.” Dan’s gaze shifted to the breakfast bar. “And that one, sort of.” His eyes slid over the obvious lines where the glue was holding it together. “But only because I picked up the pieces and made Louise fix it.”

Dan finally looked back at Phil and found a mixture of horror and sympathy on his face. “That’s horrible,” he whispered. His hands wrapped around Dan’s waists and pulled him into a tight embrace. Dan let himself melt into it, his head coming to rest on Phil’s shoulder and his arms looping around Phil’s hips.

“I warned you,” Dan mumbled dejectedly.

Phil was quiet for a moment, no doubt taking in the explanation. Dan expected Phil to ask any number of questions about the fight — what it was about, did she do things like that often, why didn’t Dan just dump her then — but instead, Phil asked, “What’s special about the mug you made Louise fix?”

Dan breathed a sigh of relief; he didn’t want to get into the full story. It was long over, and had been the most major tipping point in his relationship with Isabella— and Dan had no desire to give her the power to taint this perfect morning he was sharing with Phil.

“My grandma gave it to me right after I told her I was bi,” Dan murmured into Phil’s neck. “Kind of a I support you and fuck heteronormativity thing.”

Phil’s arms tightened around Dan, and he dropped a light kiss to Dan’s bare shoulder. “Your grandma sounds great.”

“She is,” Dan agreed. “She was the first person I ever came out to. I was like fourteen, and she was immediately just so accepting, and it was a big part of why I accepted myself and grew confident in my sexuality.”

Dan straightened up but didn’t move back from Phil, his gaze shifting to the mug. “I just couldn’t let it go. Even though it can’t really hold coffee anymore.”

Phil was quiet for a moment before leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to Dan’s lips.

“We can bring the coffee pot into the bedroom and share the one mug. It’ll be romantic.”

Dan chuckled wetly, belatedly realizing that tears were stinging at his eyes. “Romantic,” he smiled as he swallowed his tears, determined to not let them spill and ruin the morning. “Right.”

Just as Phil had suggested, they carried the coffee pot and single mug back into the bedroom, Dan grabbing a packet of biscuits on the way so that they had some sustenance. He was disappointed, however, when they got back to the room, only to realize that the sheets were still an absolute wreck.

“I guess we have to make up the bed, huh?” Phil sounded just as reluctant to do it as Dan did.

“We could. Or we could just strip it, and I could grab the duvet from the spare room and we could call it good enough.”

Phil sat their rations down on the bedside table, and started pulling the blankets off the bed. “Sounds great to me. Where’s your washer?”

“Oh, you don’t have to start them.”

“I really don’t mind. They’ll stain if we leave them too long.” Phil bundled the sheets in his arms. “Go grab the stuff. I got this.”

“Thanks,” Dan smiled, leading Phil out of the bedroom. “It’s in a closet in the main bathroom, through the foyer.”

Dan messily yanked the duvet off the spare bed, making a mental note to ask the maid to send it for dry cleaning before Darcy or his family spent the night again. Something about him and Phil being practically beneath it (and maybe entirely, who knows how the day would go), made him slightly uncomfortable to put it back on the guest bed later.

On his way back to his room, Dan swiped his computer from the lounge, just in case they wanted to watch anything. Unsurprisingly, he beat Phil back to the bedroom. Dan took the opportunity to light a candle — the stupidly expensive special occasions one that Louise had bought him — and crack the curtains so that they could pretend they were sort of partaking in the day.

Phil trailed back into the room, carrying two glasses of water with him. Dan flashed Phil a small, grateful smile and climbed into bed. The duvet was flipped down next to Dan, a clear invitation.

After setting the drinks on Dan’s nightstand, Phil followed. He settled on his back, and Dan immediately curled up into his side again.

“Coffee, please,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s now clean chest.

Phil passed Dan their shared mug. “I’m impressed you managed to go this long without caffeine,” he chuckled, his laughter shaking Dan’s head and making it difficult to not spill.

“Apparently, other things are capable of waking me up just as well.” Dan flashed Phil an impish smile, and was pleased when Phil’s cheeks tinted dark red.

“I don’t think cum has caffeine in it, Dan,” Phil teased back, smirking.

A shocked gasp flew out of Dan’s mouth, despite his laughing grin. He hadn’t expected Phil to push his joke even further — and especially didn’t expect him to say that.

“AmazingPhil, who knew you were so filthy!” Dan took another long gulp from the mug and shook his head in mock-exasperation.

“I’m not that innocent,” Phil protested, jostling Dan a little with his shoulder. Dan just rolled his eyes, and took another sip of their coffee.

As they passed the mug back and forth, taking turns drinking from it, they fell into an easy silence. Phil refilled the mug twice, letting Dan take the first, hottest sips from the mug both times. It was sweet, caring. Even if Dan did have a shit heat tolerance in his mouth and just about burned himself both times.

“What is the rest of your week like?” Phil asked suddenly.

Dan’s head snapped up to look at Phil. His face was stoic, and didn’t give any of his intentions away. “I’m working most days, but my nights are all free.” Dan scanned Phil’s face, trying to figure out what he was getting at. “Why?” Dan asked suspiciously.

“I want to take you on a date. Like, a proper fancy date.” Phil sounded adamant, but also a bit nervous.

The apprehension must have shown on Dan’s face.

“We’ll go somewhere fancy enough that there aren’t likely to be fans, somewhere nice enough where the staff aren’t… gossips.” Phil’s hand slipped from Dan’s hair and turned his chin up. Giant blue eyes stared down at Dan pleadingly. “We can save casual looking sushi dates and movies and other stuff that can be passed off as just mates for later. I just want to be able to take you out on a nice, real date first,” Phil insisted.

Forget Isabella — Phil was better than anyone Dan had ever been with. Everything he was saying just left Dan feeling overwhelmed. No one had ever wanted to take him on a date. It had always been the other way around, it had always been Dan taking his partners to nice restaurants and trying to spoil them.

Going out to a fancy restaurant with Phil — completely alone — was definitely a risk. It would be hard to explain if they got caught. Two bros chilling in a fancy restaurant because they’re not gay?

Dan couldn’t be bothered to care though. Whatever the risk was, it was worth it.

“You’re picking the restaurant, then,” Dan joked, afraid that if he spoke too genuinely — if he let on how touched he was — he’d lose control of his emotions.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” Phil promised softly. “I’ll figure it out, so long as you agree to come.”

Dan nodded, his head bumping into the underside of Phil’s chin. “Of course I’ll come, you spoon.” Dan’s voice wavered slightly, surely giving away his shaky emotions, but he pushed through. Now wasn’t the time for a seriously conversation about coming out or his shitty past relationships. Right now, Dan just wanted to concentrate on Phil. “That sounds nice,” he added, speaking more sincerely this time.

Phil leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Dan’s head. “Good,” he agreed softly. Dan felt his lips quirk up in a soft smile, and he sighed, grateful to finally have a partner that seemed to care.

Passing the mug back to Phil a final time, Dan opted to loop his hand around Phil’s waist instead. The clean expanse of Phil’s chest made for a much better pillow than his cum-covered chest had earlier this morning.

With a directive nudge, Dan pushed Phil’s other hand towards the nightstand, silently encouraging him to set the coffee mug down. When Phil’s hand was free, Dan reached out, intending to push Phil’s fingers into his hair.

Phil beat him to it though. He didn’t need any guidance to play with Dan’s curly locks. Fuck, Phil knew Dan so well already, was already so much better for Dan than Isabella had been.

“So,” Phil eventually said. “Are your plans with Louise friend stuff, or business stuff tonight?”

“Mostly friend stuff,” Dan answered. His hand traced up Phil’s side and drew small circles along Phil’s ribcage. “I have dinner with her and Darcy most Sundays, and I think they’re both a bit put out that I didn’t go over last night.”

That might have been an understatement. While Dan was on his flight home yesterday, Louise had texted Dan a screenshot of the takeaway app and asked what he wanted for dinner. When Dan had said he’d have to postpone another night, that he sort of had lose plans with Phil, Louise had sent him a string of frowny emojis.

Followed by two aubergines and a water explosion.

Dan had chosen not to respond to that tasteful message.

“You could have done that instead of coming to B ‘n G last night,” Phil offered, but he didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic about the idea.

“Trust me,” Dan laughed, his hand splaying across Phil’s chest and grazing his nipple. Beneath his fingertips, Dan felt Phil shudder in response and he didn’t bother to hid his satisfied smile at that. “I think I prefer our last night to take out on Louise’s sofa.”

“Good, I would hope you couldn’t get that from dinner at Louise’s,” Phil teased. His hand slipped down Dan’s back and dipped into the waistband of his pants, his fingers brushing along the top of Dan’s arse.

Dan blushed, squirming under Phil’s light but hot touch. “Definitely more satisfying than dinner,” Dan admitted into the crook of Phil’s neck.

Phil’s hands shifted, and latched onto Dan’s hips. Dan’s breath was nearly knocked out of him when Phil swiftly pulled Dan on top of him. Their clothed crotches messily slid together and fuck, Dan had already gotten off this morning but he could easily go again.

Warm breath brushed across Dan’s lips, Phil’s mouth just centimeters from him. “So what time are you free until?” Phil whispered suggestively.

Dan’s eyes squeezed shut as he tried to remember exactly what him and Louise had agreed on when they made plans. He was pretty certain he needed to be there around six, and maybe he was supposed to bring the food with him? It was so hard to concentrate on anything with Phil’s hand sneaking down his pants. “About five,” Dan settled on, hoping it was enough time. “I need to make a few stops before I go over.”

“Mmm, okay,” Phil hummed. “Let’s stay in bed until four then?” he suggested hopefully.

“Perfect,” Dan agreed.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 21)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 12.5k story words: 167.5k (so far) chapter: 21/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: look we all owe @auroraphilealis a massive thank you because she stayed up until 1:30am her time editing with me because i’m a stubborn asshole of a nightowl who was determined to post tonight

Twenty minutes later, Phil stepped into the lobby of Dan’s building — or, at least, he hoped it was Dan’s building. There were apartment buildings to the right and left of Beans and Grind, and Dan hadn’t specified which. Phil had guessed purely based on the fact that he’d watched Dan turn left out of the shop more often than not.

The lobby was nice, fancy in a way that the miniscule entrance to Phil’s building wasn’t. It wasn’t ostentatious, though; it was sleek and modern and, really, looked exactly like the kind of building Dan would live in. In the center of the room, a man in a black suit was perched in a chair behind a tall desk.

“How can I help you?” he asked, setting his book down to address Phil.

“Um, I’m here to see Dan Howell?” Phil requested anxiously. The entire evening had wracked Phil’s nerves, and suddenly having to interact with a doorman was almost too much. “He said he’d tell the doorman to let me up?” Phil said, unsure of how this worked. He’d never been in an apartment building that was nice enough to have a doorman for security, much less one that could let guests in and out of residents’ flats.

The doorman pulled a book out from under the table and turned to a table entitled Howell. “ID?” he requested.

Phil fumbled in his wallet for his ID and nearly dropped it as he placed it on the desk. It seemed to take forever for the man to copy down his license number. Phil’s nerves were already shaken from the fight he’d just witnessed, from the anticipation of visiting Dan’s flat, from the excitement about what might happen there. He really didn’t need the added stress of not knowing how Dan’s fancy building worked.

The doorman slid the book across the desk, gesturing for to Phil to sign next to his name and license number. The page in book was labeled temporary guests, and contained list of names and signatures of other people that must have visited Dan’s flat over time. The neighboring page had a short list of permanent guests — it looked to only be Dan’s family (three different Howells, including Adaline), and Louise Pentland.

And a crossed out Isabella de la Renta.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Phil hoped that someday his name would get to fill in her spot on the list.

The doorman closed the book and handed Phil his ID back. “Right this way, sir,” he said, voice curt as he led Phil to the lift. Phil watched as the doorman inserted a key and pressed the seventh button, baffled that the doorman had to use a key just to let someone onto Dan’s floor.

Jesus, Phil knew that Dan was famous, but that seemed like an absurd amount of security.

However, when the doors opened, Phil realized that the security wasn’t to keep people out of Dan’s hallway, it was to keep people out of Dan’s flat. Rather than opening into a floor with several residences, like Phil had expected, the doors opened directly into Dan’s foyer.

Unsure of what the protocol was when you stepped off a lift and into someone’s apartment, Phil tentatively hollered, “Hello?”

From somewhere down the hallway, Dan yelled, “In the lounge!”

Phil shuffled forward, but hung awkwardly by the foyer door that led into the rest of Dan’s flat. “Erm, I don’t know where your lounge is…”

There were a few loud, clumsy footsteps, followed by Dan’s head peeking around the corner. “Sorry, I’m a terrible host. Come this way.” Dan jerked his head to the right before spinning around and leading Phil through the door.

Obediently, Phil followed Dan into the next room, trying his best to take in his surroundings without loitering. The hallway had pictures hanging all the way down it, but Phil couldn’t tell what they were from here. There were doors, too, cracked open into rooms that Phil couldn’t quite see.

Not wanting Dan to think he was snooping, Phil hurried to catch up.

When Phil entered the lounge, Dan was already standing at a bar cart.

“I decided to be productive while I waited for you,” Dan said, gesturing to a pitcher of clear liquid. “Gin and tonic okay?” he asked, even though he was already pouring two drinks.

“Sounds great,” Phil agreed. He didn’t particularly care what they drank — in fact, he would almost prefer they abandoned the drinks all together, seeing as he was determined to have things happen with Dan when they were both sober.

And tonight, well… Phil had a feeling about tonight.

But Dan had had one hell of an evening, and Phil totally understood why he wanted a drink tonight. Hell, drinking together had been Phil’s idea, so it’s not like he could really protest.

“Let’s sit,” Dan suggested. He made his way over to the couch and sat the pitcher of alcohol down on the coffee table.

All day, they had been toeing a line, precariously teetering right on the edge of a cliff. And now that Phil was finally alone with Dan, now that they were in the privacy of Dan’s flat, Phil wasn’t sure how to push things along — or even if he should push things.

How much space was appropriate to leave between them?

Dan solved Phil’s problem, though, by sitting down right in the middle of the sofa, meaning that wherever Phil sat, he couldn’t possibly be very far from Dan.

That was just fine by him.

As Phil sat on the couch, he finally took in his surroundings.

Judging from the grand foyer, he’d expected the lounge to be lavish. However, this room was much more intimately decorated; the sofa was worn in and appeared to have a permanent crease on one end, and the bookshelves were stocked full of nerdy knickknacks and movies, all arranged in perfectly balanced clutter.

The room was mostly monochrome, with pops of color from the trinkets on the bookshelves and an abundance of plants. Unlike Phil’s television, Dan’s gaming consoles were arranged neatly, and he couldn’t see any of the wires or controllers. Everything hanging on the walls seamlessly tied into the rest of the decor.

“Your plants all look so much happier than mine, it’s not fair,” Phil whined. The was an oversized pot of cacti on the coffee table and they all looked like they were thriving — a sharp contrast to the pitiful, small cactus Phil had next to his kettle.

“Maybe that’s because I actually water mine,” Dan teased with a cheeky smile.

“Shut up,” Phil mumbled. He covered up his slight embarrassment by taking a sip of his drink.

In an attempt to shift the topic away from his inadvertently murderous tendencies towards houseplants, Phil nodded at his drink and said, “It’s great, thanks.”

His viewers gave him enough shit about killing plants; he didn’t need it from Dan, too.

As Phil took another sip, he looked closer at the bookshelves. By this point, Phil was well aware of the fact that Dan was a nerd, but it wasn’t until he actually got a good look at Dan’s bookshelf that Phil realized just how big of a nerd Dan was. There was an entire shelf dedicated to merchandise from Guild Wars, not to mention the plethora of anime figurines. The bottom row of shelves were all dedicated to movies, video games, and board games, several of which Phil owned himself, but some of which he’d never even heard of.

There would be time to dissect Dan’s possessions later, to look over every single item on the shelves and hear the stories behind all of the knickknacks. Right now, though, they needed to talk about everything that had happened with Isabella. Or not talk about that, and talk about them instead. Or not talk at all and fucking kiss already.

Or something. Anything but ruminating in this tense, expectant silence.

“So…” Phil started, but lost his nerve after only a word.

“So…” Dan responded, flashing Phil a soft smile. “Should we talk about what happened down there before we move on — like far, far away from that topic?”

Phil shrugged. He wanted to hear what Dan had to say — and desperately wanted Dan to put some of the things that Phil had heard into context — but he didn’t want to put any pressure on Dan. Phil only wanted Dan to talk if he wanted to talk, not because he thought he owed Phil anything.

“It’s up to you,” Phil said gently, offering Dan what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Dan pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, and flashed Phil a chagrined look — a look that softened all of Phil’s leftover anxiety from the fight.

Dan drew a deep breath, a bold determination in his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” Dan said, humble and genuine. “It wasn’t exactly my finest hour.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Phil assured him. “If I were in your place, I’m not sure I could have restrained myself any better.”

Phil cut himself off from saying anything else though — even though he was keen on the idea of going on a massive diatribe about how awful Isabella was now that he’d met her. But Phil wanted to give Dan the space to talk, to bring up whatever he wanted.

So Phil stopped talking, waiting in patient silence for Dan to continue.

Dan sighed, and shifted his attention to a loose thread in his ripped skinny jeans. His fingers tugged and pulled, and Phil was worried he was going to make the hole bigger.

“She brings out the worst in me,” Dan muttered, staring down at his lap. “I swear that’s not how I usually am.”

“I know,” Phil murmured sincerely.

Months of knowing Dan had proved that to Phil. Dan was kind and sweet and caring. The Dan that Phil had seen earlier that night, the Dan that screamed and fired shots at people, was nothing like the Dan that Phil knew. And Phil felt like he knew Dan very well by this point.

“Don’t feel like you have to talk about any of that just because she decided to share private stuff in front of me, though.” Phil reached out and stilled Dan’s hand, running his thumb over the back of Dan’s hand before pulling away.

“No, it’s fine,” Dan sighed. He brought a hand up and ruffled his hair, shifting so that he was fully facing Phil. Dan drew his legs up between them so they were criss-crossed, but it didn’t leave much room between him and Phil. As a result, Dan’s knees — and most of his shins — landed on top of Phil “We should probably talk about it. I mean, it’s kind of important I think.”

Phil opened his mouth – to say what, he wasn’t sure. But he wanted to say something to indicate to Dan that yes, downstairs is important to us. So, so much of it seemed relevant to them. Phil wanted to understand everything that was wrong with Isabella, wanted to know just how deeply Dan’s wounds ran. Phil wanted to make sure that he’d never hurt Dan in the same ways that she had.

And, secretly, Phil desperately wanted to know if there was any truth to Isabella’s claim that he had a part — no matter how big or small — in the end of Dan and Isabella’s relationship.

“I’m getting the sense I don’t know the whole story behind your breakup with Isabella,” Phil settled on after several seconds of silently gawking at Dan.

“Um, no,” Dan agreed sheepishly. “I guess I’ve brushed over a few of the details.”

“Why’s that?” Phil wanted to understand — to understand everything about Dan, everything about his past. Shifting a bit, Phil turned so that he was facing Dan, too, one leg sliding between them, still underneath Dan’s. This felt like a conversation they should be properly looking at each other for.

Dan took a long sip of his drink but he had a contemplative look on his face, and Phil knew he wasn’t avoiding the question. “Some of it I just wanted to let go, didn’t want to focus on it anymore.” The liquid in Dan’s mostly-full glass threatened to spill over as he spun it back and forth between his hands. “I was an idiot when it came to her, in a lot of ways. I guess I didn’t really want to admit the full extent of it.”

“How so?” Phil prompted, although he could imagine a few ways Dan had been idiotic when it came to Isabella.

Dan shook his head, and pursed his lips, his eyes flitting up to the ceiling for a second as he seemed to collect his thoughts.

“For the longest time, I told myself that it was fine that we were totally different people. That it was good that we had different ideas of a fun evening because it pushed me to do more.” Dan sighed deeply before continuing. “It took me a long time to see, but eventually I realized that she wasn’t really interested in me, just in Dan Howell and the fame and the perks and the money that came with it. The worst part is that everyone could see it before me.”

Phil frowned. After hearing some of the things that Isabella had said to Dan, Phil couldn’t say he was surprised that Isabella was interested in Dan for reasons that weren’t… Dan, but he was a bit shocked that Dan hadn’t initially been aware of it.

“No one tried to warn you?”

A blush rose from Dan’s neck all the way to the tips of his ears and, oh, maybe people had.

“Not quite in those words,” Dan admitted. “But it was clear that no one liked her. Every time I saw Louise, she would complain about how awful Isabella was.” Dan shook his head and rolled his eyes — he at least looked a little amused at himself. “Hell, even my mum couldn’t stand her and she’s likes everyone.”

“Yikes,” Phil chuckled. “That’s never a good sign, is it?”

“Nope, not at all,” Dan conceded. He brought his glass up to his mouth, and fished an ice cube out with his tongue instead of taking a drink. The room was quiet for a moment as Dan thought, except for the soft crunch crunch crunch of Dan chewing.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t see it,” he finally continued. “I mean, she never wanted to just hang out. She was always pushing to go somewhere, somewhere we could be seen or get expensive dinners or jump the lines at clubs or whatever.” Dan’s hands waved wildly around him, his frustration evident. “It just… wasn’t me.”

The confession didn’t come as much of a surprise to Phil as he thought it should have — not with all of the clues he’d seen. Phil could still remember all of the pictures Isabella had posted online of her and Dan out doing things, the way Dan had made it clear over and over again that he was a massive introvert — two things that didn’t seem to fit together well.

And then there was the phone conversation that Phil had overheard the first time Dan had ever come to his flat, when Isabella demanded that Dan come out with her, and forced him to talk to the bouncer when he refused to leave Phil’s.

With each confession, Phil was able to piece together more and more of what Dan’s day to day relationship with Isabella must have been like, and it was looking worse by the second.

“I think I can count on my hands how many times she willingly came to my flat to just, like, relax,” Dan continued before Phil could say anything. “Fuck, you’ve already been here longer than she ever wanted to stay.”

Dan leaned forward and set his glass on the table — a glass that was still nearly half full, Phil noted.

Good.

As much as Phil knew he couldn’t police Dan’s behavior, Phil really, really wanted Dan to be sober tonight.

Phil took a deep breath and steeled himself to ask a question that he wasn’t sure he wanted — could stomach — the answer to. “Why did you stay with her, then?”

The blush that had previously calmed down on Dan’s face came back in full force. Dan’s sudden embarrassment put Phil on edge, already confirming what he’d suspected.

“I liked having the, um, you know, physical stuff.” Dan looked away and stared steadfastly somewhere behind Phil. “For a long time, I knew what we had wasn’t great, but I thought it was good enough.”

Phil scanned Dan’s face, trying to make sense of the masked emotions he saw. It was hard, though, because Dan still wasn’t looking at him.

He needed to see, he needed to know.

Phil set his drink on the table next to Dan’s and tentatively reached out to cup Dan’s cheek, guiding his head so that he looked more directly at Phil. Dan’s eyes flicked to meet Phil’s gaze, and his lips quirked up into the ghost of a smile. Phil couldn’t resist stroking his thumb over Dan’s cheek, dipping down to where he knew his deep dimple would form if Dan smiled just a bit wider.

Not wanting to push Dan’s limits too far right now — and not wanting to distract too much from the conversation they were having — Phil slowly, reluctantly, pulled his hand away from Dan.

“What changed?” Phil whispered.

Dan reached out and caught Phil’s hand in midair. Flipping his palm over, Dan intertwined their fingers, letting their hands fall to the sofa between them. Dan’s head followed the movement, his gaze fixating on where they were touching.

“I realized what it could be like.” Dan peered up at Phil through thick eyelashes. “That if just being around someone, without all of the physical stuff, was so fucking good, then —” Dan swallowed thickly, his eyes shifting away and back down again, “— then things with Isabella definitely weren’t good enough.”

“Oh,” Phil muttered, practically speechless at the implications of what Dan was saying. Or at least, what he thought Dan was implying — he wasn’t exactly speaking in the most concrete terms at the moment. Phil was pretty sure Dan was talking about him, but if Dan wasn’t… well, Phil didn’t want to make an idiot of himself because of a pretty sure assumption.

“So, did, um, someone in particular make you realize that, or…?” Phil trailed off, losing his courage to complete his already weak and ambiguous question.

To Phil’s surprise, Dan threw his head back in the loud, boisterous laughter that Phil had come to know and love, and sent Phil an incredulous look.

“Stupidity isn’t a good look on you, Phil,” Dan said, his voice dripping with fondness, a smile so wide that his dimples were canyons. There was no bite to the words, nothing but pure affection radiating from Dan.

Realizing how fucking obvious it was, how ridiculous of a question he’d really asked, Phil broke down into laughter as well. On instinct, his free hand flew up to shield his mouth — and the tongue he knew tended to poke out when he laughed too freely.

Dan’s other hand was right behind Phil’s though, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling it down, down, down, away from his mouth and all the way to the sofa. “Stop that,” Dan murmured softly, manhandling Phil ever so slightly so that both pairs of their hands were intertwined. “I like looking at your mouth.” Dan’s eyes flickered up from where he was looking at Phil’s lips, where Phil’s tongue was undoubtedly peeking out, up to his eyes. “And the rest of you.”

The smile on Phil’s face grew, and he lost all concern for how silly, how lovestruck, he must look. But he didn’t care if Dan realized how happy he was — fuck, he wanted Dan to know.

He wanted Dan to know that he made Phil the happiest he’d ever been.

“Cheesy isn’t a good look on you, Dan,” Phil quipped back, teasing.

Truthfully, cheesy was a great look on Dan — a look Phil wanted to see forever, if possible — but he wasn’t about to tell Dan that right now.

Dan rolled his eyes and softly tugged on Phil’s hands to pull him closer, the space between them growing smaller and smaller with every centimeter that Phil fell.

“Shut up,” Dan mumbled as he swooped in and finally closed the last bit of distance between them by capturing Phil’s lips with his own.

Phil melted, sinking into the sensation and letting himself get lost in the feeling of Dan’s lips on his. Phil leaned closer and pressed more firmly against Dan’s lips, their mouths moving in a slow rhythm. He was vaguely aware of the way that his stomach was flipping over, the way his heart was swooping, the way his breath was catching, but Phil was so fucking concentrated on the way that Dan’s lips felt against his that he could barely pay attention to anything else.

The only thought that Phil could register was finally.

With what was probably more fierceness than necessary, Phil ripped his hands from Dan’s, and reached up to cup his cheeks and hold him firmly in place, to pull his face impossibly closer.

A quiet groan tumbled out of Dan’s lips, almost completely muffled by Phil’s mouth.

Fuck, that was hot. The noise caused Dan’s lips to part slightly and Phil took advantage of the opportunity, slipping his tongue between Dan’s lips; Phil slowly worked Dan’s mouth open, exploring every bit of it.

Dan was fast to respond, clearly just as eager as Phil, and tangled his tongue with Phil’s, not necessarily fighting for dominance, but not quite yielding submission either. They gave and they took, taking turns caressing and exploring each other.

Warm hands pressed to Phil’s waist, almost immediately slipping just underneath his jumper. Ever since that day in the coffee shop when Phil had gotten to feel Dan’s hands on his bare skin — back when Dan had innocently helped untangle Phil from his sweater — Phil had obsessed over what it would feel like to be touched by Dan in the heat of the moment. What it would be like for Dan to run his hands over him, to kiss him, to caress him.

Right now, though, Dan’s hands weren’t exploring Phil’s body — they weren’t roaming up and down his chest or looping around his back and dipping below the hem of his jeans. But that was fine, because they were gripping Phil’s hips tightly, Dan’s fingernails digging so fiercely into Phil’s skin that they would certainly leave marks.

Marks that Phil would happily bare later. Marks that Phil would probably stare at and fantasize about when Dan wasn’t with him anymore.

Phil didn’t want to think about later, though. He wanted to focus on now. He wanted to focus on the way Dan’s lips were moving against his, and the way that Dan’s breath danced across Phil’s cheeks.

Above all, Phil wanted to focus on Dan.

Both of their breath was turning ragged, though. Kissing Dan couldn’t last forever. Phil could feel Dan gasping for air, and Phil knew he was losing the battle with his lungs.

He pulled back, but he didn’t go far.No sooner had Phil separated their lips than Dan’s forehead crashed into his, Dan’s breath coming in fast, hot pants across Phil’s cheeks.

Phil’s eyes flew open from the impact, and he was met with the serene sight of a blissed-out looking Dan. His eyes were still closed, his lips parted and twitching up at the corners. On Phil’s hips, Dan’s fingers relaxed, just slightly, his hands slipping down to rest in the crevice of Phil’s lap.

Dan’s breath slowed, finally returning to something that resembled a normal pace, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Holy shit,” Dan muttered.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed stupidly, his voice coming out breathless and weak. His hands fell from Dan’s cheeks, coming to rest on his shoulders.

“That was…” Dan trailed off, opting to close his eyes and tip his chin forward again instead of finishing his sentence. He pressed another tender kiss to Phil’s mouth and their lips melded together for a soft moment.

When Dan pulled back again, he only left a hair of distance between their lips. Phil could feel every one of Dan’s breaths, and he savored it, his eyes closed as he took in the tender moment. It took a moment before their eyes drifted open, almost at the same time, and met intensely.

“Yeah,” Phil repeatedly dumbly, his lips brushing against Dan’s when he spoke because they were still so close.

Dan’s hands slid up again, dipping back under Phil’s sweater and lightly brushing back and forth against the skin of Phil’s hips. The sudden sensation was a shock to Phil, and he squirmed, unable to help his reaction to Dan’s ticklish touch. A high pitched giggle escaped his lips without his permission, breaking the charged moment.

Dan’s hands stilled for a moment, his eyes flying open even wider in surprise at Phil’s reaction.

“Oh dear,” he giggled. His fingers tightened against Phil’s sides, and then dug in harder, beginning to tickle Phil with more intention.

Phil squeaked, squirming uncontrollably in an attempt to get away from the touch, while laughter bubbled up from his lips.

“Oh dear,” Dan repeated, a grin spreading wider and wider on his face, his dimples growing deeper. Phil could hear the childish, taunting delight that was laced in his voice, and almost, almost, forgave Dan for tickling him. “Someone’s ticklish, huh?” he teased, laughter interrupting his words and completely dissolving the sharp tension that had built between them just a moment before.

But it felt good. Despite the fact that Phil couldn’t stop laughing, and his sides were beginning to hurt from the overwhelming tickling, the moment felt good. In all of the people that Phil had dated, he’d never been with anyone that he could so easily bounce from exhilarating and hot, to silly and playful, and he absolutely adored it.

“Shut up!” Phil gasped around his laughter. “You already knew that! You figured this out when you were drunk! You don’t need to keep proving it,” Phil pleaded, reaching down to battle Dan’s hands.

Without warning, Dan’s fingers suddenly moved, right out from under Phil’s searching hands, until they were wiggling their way further into Phil, making him shriek with laughter.

“Stop, stop,” Phil cried through broken breaths. His face was flushed, and he couldn’t seem to open his eyes, he was laughing so hard. Thankfully, Dan’s movements finally came to a halt, and Phil’s body collapsed in relief.

“Oh my god,” Phil moaned, panting for breath. His hands fell to his sides as he worked to get himself back under control.

In front of him, Dan giggled, but didn’t say anything. Phil pouted, expecting an apology, but it never came — because in the next moment, Dan’s hands found Phil’s sides again, and returned to their assault. He grazed his fingers up and down, brushing Phil’s ribs and just shy of his armpits, digging his fingers in deep to get Phil going again.

“Fuck — Dan —” Phil gasped, struggling under Dan’s touch. Dan’s hands just kept going, and Phil could feel his abs beginning to hurt from the onslaught of laughter. Dan’s hands moved to Phil’s stomach, taking advantage of the moment, and Phil had finally had enough. Desperate to stop the onslaught of tickling on his sensitive stomach, Phil managed to place his hands on top of Dan’s, and force them to still against his skin.

He gulped in air as Dan laughed at him, his eyes crinkled up in amusement, and his dimple huge in his cheek.

“You’re the worst, Howell,” Phil complained, but despite being disgruntled about Dan laughing at him, Phil found himself grinning as well. He couldn’t help himself - not when Dan looked so happy being able to tease Phil.

“You’re cute, Philly,” Dan said quietly with a soft smile as Phil started to get his breath back. His eyes flitted over Phil’s face, and his fingers flexed back and forth against Phil’s body until Phil’s grip loosened and he let go.

Using his newfound leverage, Dan wrapped his hands more firmly around Phil, sliding around to his lower back and pulling him forwards, forcing them even closer on the sofa. “I like you a lot,” he murmured, the intensity from a few moments ago rushing back.

“Do you?” Phil asked with a smirk, no longer doubting Dan’s feelings for him.

“Yeah,” Dan said, his voice lower and huskier than it was seconds earlier. “I do,” he confirmed, leaning in and kissing Phil once more, lingering against his lips longer than necessary. “What are you going to do about it, Lester?” Dan teased, right up against Phil’s mouth.

Phil didn’t even have to think about it. After all of the flirting, the talking, the waiting, Phil didn’t have it in him to hold back for another second. Not if Dan was willing to go for it.

“This,” Phil whispered against Dan’s lips before closing the miniscule distance between them, and kissing Dan more passionately, more heatedly, than anything they’d shared yet.

Dan kissed back, matching passion with passion, heat with heat. It was slow at first, but it built and built, until suddenly their hands suddenly unable to stay still. Dan’s hands slid up from their spot on Phil’s lower back, tracing along his spine and pushing his jumper up as they made their way higher and higher. Cold air rushed over Phil’s skin, and Phil felt a violent shiver course down his spine — but he wasn’t sure if it was from sudden exposure to the air, or from Dan’s touch.

If Phil had to guess, though, he would reckon it was because of Dan.

Desperate to get more of Dan, too, Phil reached behind Dan’s head, cupping the back of his neck in one hand, pulling him impossibly closer, and tangling his other into Dan’s curly locks.

After all of the marathon nights of Buffy where Dan had encouraged Phil to play with his hair, Phil should have been prepared for Dan’s reaction, been prepared for the high pitched whimper Dan let out when Phil knotted his fingers in Dan’s curls.

But he wasn’t. Nothing could have prepared Phil for the satisfaction he felt from pulling those noises from Dan, from turning Dan on, from the way Dan quietly gasped Phil’s name. It all went straight to Phil’s groin.

The little amount of control that Phil had had over his impulses disappeared, and suddenly he felt himself pushing and pulling at Dan all at once. With a fervor that Phil hadn’t felt in years — had arguably never felt — he pulled at Dan’s shoulders, yanking him closer until their entire upper bodies were flush and Phil could feel Dan’s heart pounding in his chest. Almost simultaneously, though, Phil pushed, tipping Dan backwards, guiding him down, down, down, until his back crashed into the sofa and he gave a soft oomph.

Dan went without protest; his only response was to tighten his grip on Phil’s hips and pull him down, too — it wasn’t necessary, though, because Phil had every intention of chasing Dan into the cushions anyway.

Together, they tumbled into the sofa, Phil falling on top of Dan, his arms caging Dan’s head as Phil braced himself on his forearms. His hands returned to Dan’s hair, tugging just a bit. With what seemed like no thought at all, Dan’s legs spread apart, giving Phil room to settle between them. Suddenly, their hips were pressing together.

“Fuck,” Dan gasped. He tore his lips from Phil’s, and tipped his head far back, giving Phil a perfect, up close view of his long, beautiful neck.

Phil wanted to trace every bit of it with his tongue, to explore every piece of Dan’s body.

Unable to help himself, his body on tingling with desire, Phil leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dan’s exposed throat, kissing lightly from the base of his chin all the way to the jut of his collarbone. It wasn’t until Dan let out a long, mangled moan that Phil latched on properly, seeking out a pulse point on Dan’s neck and sucking.

Dan might have moaned before, but the noise he let out when Phil drew the skin of his throat into his mouth was downright pornographic. Beneath him, Phil felt Dan’s hips cant up, pressing into Phil’s forcefully. This time, they both moaned as their rapidly hardening cocks rubbed together through their clothes.

It felt good — more than good. The warmth of Dan’s body, the firmness of his cock, the vibrations of his moaning, they all felt positively delicious beneath Phil. And for a moment, Phil lost himself in the intoxicating pleasure of Dan.

The tight pressure on Phil’s hips dissipated as Dan loosened his grip and his hands slipped backwards, wrapping around Phil and drifting lower and lower until the tips of his fingers were dipping to Phil’s waistband, grazing the top of his arse, pulling his hips down more forcefully.

“Shit, fuck,” Phil gasped as their cocks collided again, the friction of their jeans and the grinding movement causing a burst of arousal to shoot through his entire body.

It felt great — sinfully great. Something that Phil wasn’t sure he could truly have yet, though. He needed to stop this before it got out of hand. He needed to give them both a chance to hold back, at least for a little bit longer. They deserved that — they deserved more than fast and sloppy on Dan’s sofa.

Phil tore his lips away from their place on Dan’s neck, and forced himself to pull his hips away from Dan’s.

The new position didn’t seem to suit Dan, though. His hips followed Phil’s up, seemingly chasing the heady feeling of grinding together.

“Wait, Dan,” Phil panted. “Fuck.” His hands flew from Dan’s shoulders to his hips, forcefully pressing them down into the sofa, restraining Dan’s movements and giving him no choice but to stay still.

Phil’s insistence must have registered with Dan, because he stopped fighting and his eyes shot open to look at Phil. “What?” Dan asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Phil rushed to assure him, his breath still coming out in sharp exhales. “I just — fuck,” Phil’s resolve waivered, and he let his head collapse forward onto Dan. He pressed a long, lingering kiss to Dan’s chest, right above his pounding heart. God, Phil really didn’t want to stop — not even for a second. But what he had with Dan was too precious, too new to risk. “I don’t want to go too fast.”

“Oh,” Dan murmured. He sounded shocked, almost disbelieving — something that made Phil’s heart hurt for Dan in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Phil pressed himself further upwards so that he could properly look at Dan. When Phil leaned back, he saw that Dan’s eyes were blown wide in lust, and his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

Phil’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. Dan was right there, so unbelievably close, and not kissing him was taking an immense amount of restraint. But Phil was determined to do it.

“You’re too important.” Phil whispered, his voice raw with emotion that he hadn’t had the chance to express to Dan yet.

Dan’s eyes widened.

“You think so?” he asked, sounding vulnerable and timid.

Not missing a beat, Phil dipped down and kissed Dan again, moving their lips languidly together. He kissed him thoroughly, trying to convey just how important Dan was to him through their kiss alone. He moved slowly, gently prying Dan’s mouth open and caressing Dan’s tongue with his own. Phil kissed him until they were both running out of breath again — something that didn’t take long since they were both already so close to being short of breath.

“I know so,” Phil promised when he pulled back.

Dan’s hands shot from their place in Phil’s waistband to cover his face, but Phil caught sight of Dan’s red cheeks and bashful smile before his face disappeared.

“Phiwww,” Dan whined, his voice coming out muffled through his hands. The tips of his ears were tinting red, too, and Phil wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity flattering Dan enough that he got this adorably flustered.

It was tempting to lean back down his elbows, to pry Dan’s hands away from his face, to surge forward and continue kissing Dan. But Phil was determined to start this relationship right, and that meant finishing the conversation they’d started earlier — and clarifying exactly what Dan wanted now that they had finally given into each other.

So instead, Phil pushed himself onto his hands, then his knees, and then dragged himself all the way into a sitting position. He glanced down and saw that his cock was still straining against his jeans — that would just have to calm down, because now wasn’t the moment.

“Come on, sit up,” Phil urged gently. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Dan’s wrists, pulling them back softly.

Dan gazed up at him with wide eyes and pink cheeks, a frown forming on his lips, his bottom one sticking out in a way that made Phil desperate to lean down and suck it into his mouth. It took every bit of Phil’s willpower to not give in.

“I don’t wanna,” Dan whined petulantly, pointedly staying horizontal.

If that boy wasn’t so fucking cute, Phil would probably murder him.

“Too bad,” Phil teased, using the leverage he had on Dan’s wrists to pull him into a seated position. They were close, closer than they had been when they initially sat down on the sofa — closer than when they’d first kissed, even.

Phil could feel Dan’s breath on his cheeks, and his eyes flickered down to Dan’s lips again. They were swollen from kissing, redder than they normally were. And fuck, he just looked downright kissable.

Forcing himself to behave, Phil pushed backwards and put just a few more centimeters of space between them.

“What do you want from me?” Dan pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Finish talking,” Phil murmured, giving into some of his desire to touch Dan by letting himself reach up and run his fingers through Dan’s hair. Dan’s eyes fluttered closed, and his pout twisted into a soft smile, his arms falling back to his sides

“Please,” Phil urged, when it seemed Dan wasn’t going to do as he’d requested.

Dan’s eyes opened, but he sighed, his face scrunching up in confusion. “About what?”

“The fight, Isabella.” Phil shrugged helplessly, not knowing exactly what to demand from Dan. “All of it.”

“I don’t know how much more there is to say.” Dan shrugged, his hand seeking out Phil’s and intertwining their fingers. “You’re amazing, Isabella sucks. The end.”

Phil frowned slightly at the way Dan had seemingly closed off since their earlier conversation. He didn’t like it. He knew it might not be fair, but he wanted a full explanation from Dan. He wanted Dan to tell him everything.

“What?” Dan asked, a note of defensiveness creeping into his voice when all Phil did was stare.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Phil implored, even though he very much wanted Dan to talk. “But you said it was important earlier and, well, I agree. I want to know what happened — all of it.”

“Why?” Dan asked, and it was clear that he really didn’t understand Phil’s motivation in getting Dan to talk. Phil sighed, and squeezed Dan’s hand.

“I want to be different,” he whispered, looking down at their hands, feeling vulnerable.

“You already are, Phil.” Dan squeezed tightly in return. Slowly, Phil looked up, taking in the sincerity on Dan’s face, and swallowed.

“Good.” Phil leaned forward and pressed a slow, tender kiss to Dan’s lips, trying to show Dan what he was feeling. Slowly, he pulled away, and sat all the way back up, after just a few seconds. Talking was important, and Phil didn’t want Dan — or himself — to get too caught up in kissing again. He still wanted more of an explanation.

Phil cleared his throat and tried to shift them back to their conversation. “You were planning to break up with Isabella before she cheated on you.” It wasn’t a question — Phil knew that much for certain.

“Right,” Dan confirmed. “I was going to do it the next morning.”

“Was it just because she was using you?” It wasn’t until the words were out of Phil’s mouth that he realized how minimizing it must have sounded. “Not that that wasn’t a good enough reason to break up with her!” Phil rushed to add. “I just — was that it?”

Staring downward, Dan silently shook his head.

Phil bit is lip. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to tell me?”

“The full truth feels too heavy,” Dan confessed, still addressing their laps.

Needing to see Dan’s face, his eyes, Phil cupped his chin and forced Dan to look up, but he refused to meet Phil’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

Dan sighed, but he relented, giving into Phil’s insistent pushing. “It felt easier to simplify everything down to the fact that Isabella cheated on me.” Dan gave a small shrug of his shoulders, biting his lip between his teeth.

“As opposed to what?” Phil pushed.

“It was easier than saying that she was a manipulative bitch who only dated me for money and fame.” Dan’s gaze flicked away, settling on the potted cacti on the table. “And that, in the end, there was some truth to all of her accusations.”

“What do you mean?” Phil’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Isabella had accused Dan of a lot — not really liking girls, cheating, breaking up with her because of Phil… But Phil couldn’t tell if any of it was true.

“All that biphobic bullshit she was spouting — she’s been going on about that bullshit since I came out her.”

“Wow,” Phil breathed, unintentionally interrupting Dan. “That must have been really difficult, being with someone who didn’t respect your sexuality,” Phil elaborated when Dan’s stared at him blankly, eyebrows raised.

“It’s whatever, and like, not true. I mean, obviously I wasn’t doomed to leave her for a man just because I like dick, too.” Dan forced an awkward laugh. “But she wasn’t entirely wrong about you.”

“About me?” Phil asked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected this to really come back to him.

“Yeah,” Dan said sheepishly. “About you being, like, part of the reason I broke up with her. And would never consider getting back together.”

“But we never…” Phil cocked his head and shrugged his shoulder, hoping Dan would get what Phil meant — that they never did anything.

“I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that the feelings were there. So like I said, in a way, she was right. I wasn’t any better to her than she was to me,” Dan said dejectedly.

The idea that Isabella had somehow convinced Dan that he was in the wrong churned in Phil’s stomach, making him feel uneasy.

“Are you kidding me? No. Absolutely not,” Phil fought back fiercely.

Dan looked up in shock at Phil’s raised voice.

“You’re so much better than her,” Phil insisted. “Sure, there were some feelings. That’s kinda shitty. But you didn’t act on them — fuck, you didn’t act on them for an entire month after you’d broken up! If that doesn’t make you a better person, Dan, I don’t know what does.” Phil’s voice was just shy of shouting by the time he was finished.

“I wanted to act on them, though,” Dan argued, defeated.

“Trust me, I did too.” Phil shook his head despondently. “But we didn’t. And that’s what counts.”

“I guess.” Dan grabbed his drink from the table, draining the remaining half of it. He looked exasperated and annoyed, a flicker of the heat from his fight with Isabella back in his eyes. “Jesus, I’m just so fucking — ugh.”

“What?” Phil couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at Dan’s sudden change in demeanor. Following Dan’s lead, Phil picked up his drink and finished it.

“She just sucked so fucking much,” Dan ranted.

Reaching up, Phil carded his fingers through Dan’s hair again, and sighed softly. “Complain as much as you want, I’ll listen,” Phil offered sincerely, although a bit of humor still seeped into his voice.

“She was just so fucking self-obsessed,” Dan groaned, the feeling of Phil’s hand in his hair not even enough to calm him down, and Phil let it fall away.

Before saying anything more, Dan refilled both of their drinks, and handed one to Phil. “All she ever did was talk about herself and push for doing things that would help her public image,” Dan groused. “She’s literally the most selfish person in the world. And you know the dumbest part?” Dan chuckled humorously. “She always tried to pretend it was to help my public image too, but she never seemed to care that I didn’t care about that. That wasn’t me.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed, trying to hold back his own anger at the woman. Dan didn’t need Phil chiming in about her being a bitch. But… well, Phil could at least say something. “Sounds like she was too busy loving herself to really love you.”

Dan froze, his glass halfway to his mouth. Phil watched as he stared, wide eyed, and could do nothing more than stare blankly back.

“What did you say?” Dan demanded.

“Er,” Phil stuttered, trying to remember exactly what he'd said because it seemed to important to Dan, for some unfathomable reason. “Something about her loving herself too much?”

“Fucking brilliant,” Dan muttered, more to himself than Phil. “Love yourself.”

Without saying anything else, Dan lunged forward and sweeped a small notebook from the shelf under the coffee table. It was a notebook that Phil recognized; he’d seen Dan scribble in it countless times — but never in direct response to something Phil had said.

Dan usually was pretty private with his notebook of lyrics, normally shielding the page from Phil’s view when he added to it. Tonight, though, the notebook was on full display; it was opened to the very first page, which only had two words on it.

album title????????????????

Beneath the series of question marks, Dan messily scratched two more words.

love yourself.

As if Phil wasn’t closely watching Dan’s movements, Dan flipped the notebook around so Phil could see it properly. Phil took in the words on the page for a second, before shifting his gaze up to Dan’s face. He was biting his lip so hard that it was turning white, and his brows were furrowed.

“Can I use that?” Dan sounded nervous.

Phil’s jaw actually dropped. “As an album title?”

“Yeah,” Dan answered meekly. “And maybe a song lyric, too.”

“O-of c-course,” Phil stuttered. He was having trouble processing the fact that Dan was inspired by anything Phil said, much less that Dan wanted to use it so prominently. “Why that, though?”

Dan’s gaze flickered down to the notebook. “Do you really want to hear me go on a full music rant right now?” Dan asked warily, looking back at Phil skeptically.

“Always,” Phil promised, smiling sweetly at Dan. He meant it — anytime that Dan shared his thoughts, his music, with Phil, Phil felt himself fall a little further.

Dan thumbed through the notebook, not stopping at any particular spot but skimming the pages. “It just seems appropriate. Like, on the one hand, I already can see writing a song with that as the chorus, and screaming that Isabella should go love herself is so much better than the two words I’ve been using recently. But also, I feel like it just… I dunno, captures the meaning of the album?”

Dan held up a finger, wordlessly telling Phil to wait, and took another drink from his glass before continuing. “This whole album, at its core, is really about being a little selfish, and doing what’s right for me, and love yourself really sums that up.”

For almost a full minute, Phil was struck silent. There was a certain kind of wisdom in what Dan had said that Phil hadn’t really thought about before. It seemed so obvious, and yet, was something that most of the world — Phil included — so often overlooked. The fact that Dan had grabbed that sentiment, and made an entire album around it? That was really something.

“I think you’re amazing, Dan,” he managed to mutter eventually. “And I think you should be as selfish as you want.”

“That’s good to hear.” Dan said, his smile twisting into a smirk, eyes twinkling. Phil’s brows furrowed, unsure what that expression could mean.

“Why’s that?” Phil asked, his head cocking to the side.

“Because if I’m really being selfish,” Dan said cheekily, “I just want you.”

All of Phil’s resolve to continue talking about Isabella, about everything that had gone wrong, about how Dan was feeling, drained away in an instant.

Words completely failed Phil.

He didn’t know how to properly communicate just how much everything Dan had said meant to him — the fact that Dan had sort of left Isabella for him, the fact that Dan was writing an album for him, the fact that Dan being selfish meant being with Phil.

So instead, Phil surged forward, insistently pressing his lips to Dan’s. He couldn’t help himself, kissing Dan deeply, his hands coming up to fist in Dan’s shirt.

“I just want you, too,” Phil murmured against his lips, barely pulling away to speak.

“We’re a good pair, then,” Dan mumbled back, slamming their mouths back together and effectively putting an end to any more talking.

There was nothing more that they needed to say with words, anyway. After so long of being so close, they just needed each other. They needed to feel and kiss and touch.

They’d talked for months. And they would have months and months to talk later.

But now, tonight wasn’t about talking. Not anymore. Tonight was about giving in, about finally letting themselves be everything that they’d wanted for so long.

Completely disregarding his earlier decision to not push too far, too fast, Phil let his hands fly from Dan’s shirt to his shoulders, because if Dan was going to be selfish, then Phil thought he might as well be too. The distance between them suddenly seemed unbearable, and Phil pushed Dan back, back, back, until he was laying down on the sofa again, his head landing with a soft thump near the armrest.

Dan didn’t miss a beat.

Mid-tumble, Dan’s hands found Phil’s waist again, wasting no time in slipping under his sweater and thumbing across the soft cushion of his sides.

“Fuck,” Dan muttered when their lips parted ever-so-slightly from the impact of their fall. His head tipped back, once again exposing his long neck, and Phil realized that this must be another hotspot for Dan.

Phil’s suspicions were confirmed when he shifted down, licking his way down Dan’s throat and fixating on the soft, fleshy spot where his neck met his shoulder. Phil sucked harshly, his teeth grazing Dan’s skin, and was rewarded with a deep, loud moan.

He wanted to find every single spot that elicited noises like that from Dan.

“Someone’s sensitive there, hmm?” Phil teased, echoing Dan’s words from when he’d tickled Phil earlier.

“Fuck—” Dan gasped in a shattered breath, “—off.”

The deep moan that accompanied Dan’s exhale made Phil think that Dan wanted anything but Phil to retreat.

Wanting more of Dan’s moans, Phil bit down, just hard enough to shock Dan’s senses, before licking and sucking at the sensitive skin again.

“Jesus on a fucking tricycle,” Dan muttered, his breath coming out in broken whimpers. “How do you fucking know already?”

Phil giggled into Dan’s neck, so unbelievably happy that he’d found someone that he could relax with, have fun with, even when they were in the middle of something so hot.

“Come back here,” Dan demanded, his words slurred and voice hushed. One of his hands slipped out from Phil’s sweater and landed in his hair, tugging roughly to redirect Phil’s lips to his own. “Kiss me, you spoon,” Dan muttered before he pulled Phil’s head down and crashed their lips together.

And so Phil kissed him. He opened himself up to Dan, brushed his tongue alongside his, and soaked in what he’d been missing for so long. Finally getting to kiss Dan was like heaven, and Phil couldn’t get enough.

Dan’s lips were plump and warm and just barely chapped; they moved in perfect synchrony with Phil’s, his tongue darting out and dancing at just the right moments.

Sometime while they were sinking into each other, kissing and just being, Dan’s hands made their way up to Phil’s back, pushing his sweater up along the way.

“Can I?” Dan asked breathily as he tugged the hem of Phil’s sweater further upwards.

It took a moment for Dan’s words to register, but when they did, Phil pulled his mouth away from Dan’s to breathe, “Wait, hang on.”

It took more effort than Phil wanted to admit, but he managed to at least get his mouth off of Dan’s, though he didn’t get very far. His lips found Dan’s throat as he said, “I want to take this at your pace.”

“Take — what — at my — pace?” Dan asked, his words coming out in short staccatos, matching the beat of Phil’s mouth against his skin.

“You,” Phil kissed Dan’s throat, unable to help himself. “Me,” kiss. “Us,” kiss.

For a moment, there was no response. And then Dan pushed his head into the sofa, forcing Phil’s mouth away from his skin, and stared up at Phil. Their gazes finally met again for the first time in what felt like ages.

“Phil, I’m in,” Dan said, his lips quirking up into a small smile. “I’m all in.”

Phil’s eyes went wide. For all of a second, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, wasn’t sure if Dan meant what he meant, but as he stared at Dan, stared at the way Dan’s body seemed to be giving in to him, Phil realized that he did.

“Fuck,” Phil cursed. “Me too, Dan,” he gasped, crashing their lips back together. He pushed into Dan’s mouth, kissing him fervently, suddenly desperate for more more more. But before Phil could really get into the kiss, Dan pushed him away again.

“Sweater,” he huffed as he tugged at the hem. “I want it gone. Please.”

Not missing a beat, Phil pushed off his elbows and extended his arms, balancing on his hands so that Dan had the freedom to push the sweater up and over his torso. The thick knitted material temporarily blinded Phil as it covered his head, but then Dan pulled some more, and Phil could see again. Phil lifted up one hand after another, letting the sweater fall from his arms, and watched as Dan shoved it off the sofa.

Beneath him, Dan was staring up, pupils dilated and lips swollen. “Come here,” Dan ordered, his fingers tangling in the fine hairs at the back of Phil’s neck and yanking him down. Phil’s eyes clamped shut, his lips slamming into Dan’s. He let himself kiss, just for a moment, before he remembered that he had a bigger priority at the moment.

“No,” Phil grumbled against Dan’s lips. With the little leverage he had, Phil tried to push himself back up.

When Phil opened his eyes and looked down, he saw Dan staring up with startled, wide doe eyes. A small smirk on his face, Phil shook his head and shifted his weight some so that his hands could slip down to Dan’s hips.

“Fair is fair,” Phil huffed, tugging on Dan’s jumper and trying to pull it up and away from his body.

Dan relented; his hands fell from Phil’s neck and pressed into the sofa beside his hips. His back arched up, letting Phil slide the soft knit jumper up his body. Seamlessly, Dan let his back fall and raised his shoulders when the jumper was high enough, letting Phil pull it free from his body entirely.

Spread beneath him, Dan looked radiant. His chest was soft and smooth, and just slightly tanned. Phil’s eyes were drawn down to Dan’s nipples, prominent nubs against the flat expanse of his chest. Every fiber of Phil wanted to touch, wanted to stroke up and down Dan’s chest, wanted to thumb over his nipples and feel the jut of his collarbone.

So Phil let himself.

He pushed himself upwards, balancing his weight on his knees and simultaneously forcing their hips together harder. His hands slunk up, landing on Dan’s chest and catching himself. Staring down in wonderment, Phil let his hands roam up and down, caressing every part of Dan’s bare skin that he could.

“You’re gorgeous,” Phil breathed.

Dan flushed bright red, only this time, Phil could see the way the blush spread all the way down his chest and reached the bottom of his ribcage.

“You’re prettier,” Dan argued, his hands rising up to Phil’s stomach, searching over Phil’s skin like he was trying to memorize the landscape of Phil’s torso. Dan’s touch was white hot, sending electric thrills up and down Phil’s spine that had him desperate to grind his hips down into Dan.

They’d come this far, they’d been so patient for so long, that Phil couldn’t resist just some inkling of the pleasure that he craved. He let his hips fall, let their crotches rub together, let their clothed cocks touch.

“Agree to disagree,” Phil panted in Dan’s ear.

A deep groan tumbled from Dan’s lips and Phil suddenly flashed back to that day in Beans and Grind when he’d called Dan a good boy, and the way that Dan had reacted.

Praise.

Dan clearly liked praise.

And Phil was more than happy to give it to him.

“You’re amazing, Dan,” Phil murmured, latching onto the tender skin beneath Dan’s ear and sucking, drawing the pliant skin into his mouth and nibbling at the soft flesh. “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you.”

“Shit,” Dan gasped, hips arching into Phil’s at the praise.

Phil pulled back from his neck and took in the serene, euphoric look on Dan’s face. His eyes were closed, his head tilted back, spine arched enough to force his shoulders off the sofa. His soft, pink lips were parted, quivering, his tongue pushing against his front teeth.

Fuck going slowly. Fuck propriety. Fuck chivalry.

Phil wanted to worship every single centimeter of Dan that he could see.

With renewed determination, Phil slid himself down, letting his mouth finally fall beneath Dan’s collarbones, and dip below where his shirt normally hid.

“God,” Phil muttered as he kissed down Dan’s chest. “You look so fucking good beneath me.”

“Mmm,” Dan moaned incoherently. His hands stilled, his fingernails digging into the soft skin of Phil’s side.

Phil’s lips trailed farther down, landing on the erect nub of Dan’s nipple and biting lightly, just to see Dan’s reaction.

It was a good reaction — better than Phil ever could have ever imagined. Dan’s hips thrusted up, uncontrollably smashing into Phil’s, and a loud keen was ripped from his throat.

Dan was a loud person. His laugh was loud, his voice was loud, his personality was loud.

Phil should have known that his sex would be loud, too.

Suckling at one nipple wasn’t enough though — not for Phil and, based on Dan’s whimpers and tugging hands, not for Dan either. Eager to give Dan all that he could, Phil kissed his way over to Dan’s other nipple, giving it the same tender, biting attention.

Dan writhed under Phil, his hips wriggling against Phil’s crotch and causing their cocks to grind together.

Despite Phil’s best efforts to maintain his composure, the sudden assault of Dan’s hips on Phil’s had him collapsing against Dan, letting his hips crash down and his forehead fall to Dan’s chest.

A sharp tugging at the nape of Phil’s neck pulled his head upwards, making him look up at Dan’s face.

“The sofa—” Dan panted, “I can’t.” He raised up, kissing Phil heatedly, moving their lips together so hurriedly Phil thought they might be in a race. “Bed—” Dan gasped. “Now, please.”

Fuck.

There was no way Phil could refuse a request like that from Dan. Not when Dan looked this docile, this soft, this turned on.

Wordlessly, Phil pushed off of Dan and held his hand out, silently beckoning Dan off the sofa. Dan didn’t hesitate; his hand grasped onto Phil’s and he used the weight of Phil to pull himself to standing.

“Let’s go,” Dan muttered. He didn’t let go of Phil’s hand, instead opting to pull Phil behind him, dragging him down the hallway and through a darkened doorway.

Desperate to get to see Dan — whatever this night would let him see, anyway — Phil fumbled on the wall, searching for a light switch.

“Don’t,” Dan ordered. In the dark of the room, Phil could only feel the warm grasp of Dan’s hand linking around his wrist, pulling it from the wall and back to Dan’s waist. “Just come here.”

Dan’s hands were on top of Phil’s, holding them firmly to his waist, as he stepped backwards and guided them towards the bed.

At the last minute, Dan spun them around and forced Phil to fall backwards onto the bed. For a split second, Phil was disappointed that the weight of Dan didn’t immediately crash on top of him — until the soft light of a bedside lamp filled the room, that was. It casted a more subtle, intimate light than the overhead light that Phil had looked for, and he was grateful for it.

Standing between his legs and looking down at him, Dan looked so soft, so fragile, in the warm light of the lamp, and Phil wanted nothing more than to ravish him.

“Come here, beautiful,” Phil begged, his hands reaching out for the hem of Dan’s jeans. They found purchase, and he tugged Dan down. The sudden movement caused Dan to tumble forward and fall into Phil, their bare chests lining up, their hips crashing together.

“You’ve been so good for so long,” Phil whispered huskily, speaking right next to Dan’s ear. “What do you want, baby?”

Dan’s forehead fell forward, his mouth desperately nipping at Phil’s neck. “Anything,” he mumbled. “Whatever you’ll give me.” His voice was high pitched and desperate.

Phil’s cock twitched, heat pooling in his stomach.

“Let me up,” Phil urged. He pushed gently on Dan’s chest and forced him upwards until he was perched on top of Phil, straddling his hips.

Phil’s hands drifted down, coming to rest on Dan’s waist, and tipped him over. Dan went willingly, falling into the bed and wrapping his legs around Phil in the process, effectively forcing Phil to follow him down.

“Phil,” Dan moaned. Warm hands looped around Phil’s shoulders and pulled him closer — though Phil wasn’t sure how they could possibly be touching more than they already were. Dan’s head fell back again, and Phil dove in without further invitation.

Kissing down the side of Dan’s neck, Phil could feel Dan’s hurried pulse, could feel his fast breath, and it was all positively intoxicating. Phil was certain that there was nothing better than this, than having Dan squirming beneath him.

Or that was what Phil thought until Dan’s hand’s slipped from Phil’s back, at least.

Suddenly, Dan’s hands were tracing hot trails down Phil’s back. Trails that didn’t stop, trails that were unimpeded by the barrier of Phil’s jeans.

No, Dan’s hands kept going and going and going. They brushed over Phil’s lower back and dipped straight below the hem of his trousers, completely forgoing his pants and reaching straight for his bare arse.

Phil already didn’t have any resolve left, but the feeling of Dan’s hands on his naked butt absolutely drove him wild.

Abruptly, Phil pushed himself off of Dan, kneeling upright between his legs so that he had access to Dan’s entire body. Phil’s hands flew to Dan’s zipper, working the button between his fingers without pushing it through the hole.

“Can I?” Phil asked. Even to his own ears, his voice was deep and scratchy — he could only imagine what it sounded like to Dan.

Clearly, though, Dan wasn’t turned off by Phil’s voice. “Please,” he begged. His hand reached out, too, and landed on Phil’s trousers. His fingers slipped beneath the hem and toyed at the button. “But only if I can, too,” Dan teased with a smile, a weak attempt at banter during the heat of the moment.

“Whatever you want,” Phil promised shamelessly, slipping Dan’s button through the hole, and almost simultaneously feeling the relief of his own jeans loosening.

Before Phil could do anything else, Dan pushed him away by the hips, forcing him to stand up at the edge of the bed. Dan’s hips canted up as he slipped his hands beneath his own trousers and pulled them down, taking his pants with them. When they were far enough down Dan’s legs, Phil reached for them, tugged the tight fabric over Dan’s slender legs and away from his body entirely. With absolutely no regard for what were probably expensive jeans, Phil dropped Dan’s clothes to the bedroom floor and sought out Dan again.

“Off,” Dan commanded, his hands reaching for Phil’s trousers and sharply pulling down. Phil happily obliged, tugging his jeans and pants over his arse and down his thighs, all the way down to his ankles. Two kicks of his feet, and then Phil was entirely free of his clothing.

He stared down at Dan, finally realizing that this was it. That they were both completely naked together, that they were finally about to be able to explore each other in a way they’d never been able to before.

“Phiw,” Dan pleaded. His arms extended and he made grabby hands at Phil, urging him closer. “I need you.”

Phil was powerless to resist Dan’s pleas, equally desperate to have their bare bodies finally laying against each other. Phil fell forward and landed on top of Dan softly, his elbows just barely catching him before he knocked the wind out of Dan.

Dan’s hands immediately sought purchase on Phil’s hips, quickly roaming to Phil’s more private parts. One hand slid backwards, wrapping around to cup Phil’s arse, while the other slid forward, just barely grazing Phil’s inner thigh.

Phil’s cock throbbed with desire. If Dan’s hand was just a centimeter or two over, he’d be grasping onto Phil — something Phil wanted more than anything in this moment.

Well, almost anything.

Above all else, Phil wanted to touch Dan. He wanted to give Dan what he hadn’t gotten in months, what Isabella, hopefully, couldn’t ever really give him.

“Touch me,” Dan begged as his own hand reached down a little more, and settled firmly on Phil’s cock.

For a brief moment, Phil couldn’t breathe, much less concentrate on doing anything for Dan in return. Slowly and steadily, Dan’s hand dragged up Phi’s cock, squeezing lightly at the head before trailing back down. His grip was tight and rough, in the best possible way, and Phil had to fight to maintain his composure.

“Phil,” Dan desperately urged.

Phil’s eyes snapped back to Dan’s, took in the way his pupils had blown wide, the way he was biting his lip, pleading with Phil, and that was all it took to pull Phil back from his delirious bliss. Pushing up on one elbow, Phil reached down between them and took the base of Dan’s cock in his hand. His hand slid up, pulling the foreskin back and thumbing over Dan’s slit. A bead of precum leaked out, and Phil smeared it down, using it to smooth out his movements. Dan was long and heavy in Phil’s hand — better than Phil could have imagined.

In response to Phil’s touch, Dan’s hand began to pick up speed, gliding up and down Phil’s cock faster and faster as Dan seemed to become overwhelmed with pleasure. Phil could feel tension building in him, could feel the way his stomach was tightening and his balls were drawing up, but he wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

He was far too worked up from months of pining, of waiting, to be able to hold out the way he wanted to, so Dan needed to stop.

“Slow down,” Phil said, his breath coming out in sharp heaves. “I don’t — not yet,” he begged. “I have a better idea.”

Phil let go of Dan, and knocked Dan’s hand out of the way. Determined to hold out, to not give into pleasure quite yet, Phil grabbed Dan’s wrists and pulled them up and over his head, pinning them to the bed.

“Can you be good and keep your hands up here for me?” Phil asked, but it came out like more of a demand.

Apparently, Dan liked that, though. His eyes widened, his pupils growing even larger, his hands shaking in Phil’s firm grip.

“Yes,” Dan gasped, his hips thrusting up against Phil’s.

“Good boy,” Phil praised. He released Dan’s wrists and brushed his hands down down down Dan’s body, finally coming to rest at his hips. “You look amazing,” Phil murmured, taking in the sight of Dan’s long, leaking cock.

Now that Phil had touched, now that Phil had been touched, he couldn’t resist either feeling. So rather than picking — his cock or Dan’s — Phil seized both of their cocks in his hand. It was a good thing his fingers were long, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to wrap around both of them. As it was, his fingers didn’t meet his palm.

It was good enough, though. Tonight, Phil didn’t want to fuck Dan — well, he did, but this wasn’t the right moment. Tonight was about exploring, about finally being able to feel each other and indulge in the feeling of each other.

And the feeling of their cocks pressed together, the pressure from Phil’s hands squeezing them tighter, pulling up and down their shafts — it was sheer heaven.

Hands still above his head, Dan thrusted up into Phil’s grip. His movements were just slightly out of time with Phil’s strokes, creating even more friction on both of their cocks. Phil met Dan thrust for thrust, stroking them both as best as he could, even though they were both rapidly coming undone.

In just a few more strokes before Phil could feel himself reeling toward the edge again. Every graze of his hand against his cock, every twitch of Dan’s cock against his, pushed Phil closer and closer toward the precipice.

“Shit,” Phil gasped. His hand instinctively squeezed at his base, tightening around Dan too. “I’m — fucking — close.”

Hands still above his head, Dan’s hips thrusted up, jarring Phil’s hands back into movement, and he resumed a slower pace up and down their cocks.

“Me too,” Dan moaned. “Please, just — more.”

Dan’s head flew back, and Phil couldn’t help dropping down and sucking — sucking harder than he probably should. Maybe tomorrow he’d care, but right now he certainly didn’t.

“Phiiw,” Dan cried out, his hips stuttering. Phil groaned at the way his name sounded on Dan’s lips, nothing more than a deep moan, and felt his hips start to thrust harder into his fist. Phil couldn’t seem to help himself, but it didn’t matter, because Dan seemed to be enjoying it too. He arched his neck further into Phil’s mouth, and choked out, “Close.”

Dan seemed to lose control of his hands; they slipped down and grabbed Phil’s shoulders. His nails dug in, and the sharp pain only added to the white hot pleasure Phil felt.

With the hand he was bracing himself on, Phil shifted, tangling it in Dan’s hair and tugging sharply, stroking upwards on their cocks at the same time.

“Fuck,” Dan moaned. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” His breath hitched, his face scrunched up, his body tensed under Phil’s. Phil could see it before it happened, he could see Dan letting go, and then he did. Phil could feel streaks of warm cum shooting over his hand, and splattering against both of their chests.

The moans and whimpers that tumbled from Dan’s mouth were intoxicating, and so loud that Phil would have been worried about the neighbors if Dan didn’t have the floor to himself. The look of euphoria on Dan’s face, and the throbbing of his cock against Phil’s, was all Phil needed to topple over the edge himself.

The orgasm that had been pulling at his stomach since Dan had first kissed him — fuck, since Dan had first smiled at him months ago — surged through him, wracking his body in quick, hot spurts.

Phil’s breath mingled with Dan’s, and he lunged forward, locking their lips together. They were both too far gone to properly kiss, but just the feel of Dan’s lips underneath his own intensified the feeling of his orgasm.

“So good,” Phil whimpered. “So fucking good.” He could feel his cock pulsing in his hand, shooting what felt like endless streaks of cum against Dan’s chest, and it was so good. Phil’s entire body shook with the feeling.

Dan’s fingers dug deeper into Phil’s shoulders, just for a second, before he relaxed entirely, going completely boneless under Phil. Phil watched through half lidded eyes as Dan collapsed. As a final streak of cum dribbled out of Phil’s cock, he fell forward, unable to hold himself up any longer.

They laid together, trying to catch their breath. Phil didn’t even have the energy to roll off of Dan, so he just sunk down, hoping that he wasn’t crushing Dan. Their chests moved up and down in synchrony, far faster than they normally would. Phil wiggled his hand from between them, carelessly wiping their mixed cum on the bedspread, before tangling his still-sticky fingers in the sweat-soaked, curly locks of Dan’s hair.

“Jesus fucking christ, Phil,” Dan murmured, his eyes still closed and body still completely lax. “How are you that good already?”

Chuckling quietly, Phil tucked his head into Dan’s neck, pressing a kiss into the hollow of his collarbone. “I guess that beat good enough, then.”

A/N: COME SCREAM AT ME.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 16)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 11.5k story words: 125.8k (so far) chapter: 16/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: 1) sorry this is super late. i’m on vacation. it’s my birthday. i’m drinking mimosas. sue me. 2) i did a lot of the editing for this chapter on my phone. if there are mistakes, that’s why lol. 3) extra special thanks to @auroraphilealis for looking over this a million times since i edited in bits and pieces, especially for editing while @phillybops is staying with her <3 

Sunday morning, Phil spent far too much energy trying to distract himself from his thoughts about Dan. He’d tried to force himself to sleep in, but the excitement and the nerves were pumping an overwhelming amount of adrenaline into his system. By eight, he’d given up any hope of falling back asleep, and clambered out of bed, stumbling into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

One would think that spending so much of his time working in an all-organic coffee shop would have ruined instant coffee for Phil, but it hadn’t. If anything, Phil valued the ease of dumping a spoonful of grounds into boiling water and not having to do anything else more than ever, now.

After coffee, Phil did his best to occupy himself. He filmed a video, which went better than expected, all things considered. His keyed up emotions came across as excitement about glow in the dark slime rather than a lowky panic about his personal life, so that worked out well.

The video had made a right mess, though. As soon as Phil stopped filming, he jumped in the shower, scrubbing the glue and slime off of him. Today had been an interesting day to choose to film that video of all possibilities. The bedsheets were covered in just as much slime as he was, meaning he definitely needed to do laundry. Still dripping wet, Phil bundled up the sheets and shoved them into the wash, reminding himself to make his bed later — he didn’t want Dan to come over and think that Phil was in the middle of washing his sheets because he was expecting, well, something.

Especially not know, when Phil knew that Dan wanted to take this slow, wanted to take some time for himself.

Laundry ended up sparking a mini-cleaning spree. Phil cleaned his flat for as long as he could, but really it wasn’t that messy to start with, so it didn’t take up more than an hour of his time — and even that hour was pushing it. In an attempt to waste yet more time before Dan showed up, Phil resorted to doing all of the weird cleaning tasks that he almost never got around to. He dusted his bookshelf, carefully taking each knick knack down, wiping it down, and putting it back in its spot. He hoovered, swept, and mopped, which might have been overkill, but whatever. He even tried to organize the tangled knot of cords below his television that ran to all of his gaming systems.

Eventually, Phil ran out of things to clean, and finally gave up on that. He knew Dan was planning to be around during Phil’s liveshow, so Phil figured that it was best to prepare for his liveshow early. He forced himself to sit down at his desk and brainstorm what he was going to talk about.

This week, it felt like there were so many off limit topics — many of which were topics his viewers would probably want to talk about. But Phil had no desire to talk about Valentine’s Day with them, and he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to delve into what drinks with Dan had been like — especially when he was still trying to make sense of it himself. Plus, they always asked how things were going with the BBC, hoping for insight to what he might be doing in his next radio show, but Phil hadn’t had the chance to talk to his producers about the possibility of Dan making a guest appearance, so he definitely couldn’t mention that to his viewers.

Plus, he knew Dan was going to be here, in his house while he was doing his liveshow, which made Phil even more determined to not fuck it up and look like an idiot.

So, Phil stared at a blank google doc, desperately trying to decide what safe topics to focus on.

There was the video he’d filmed that morning — he could hint at that. Normally, he’d edit it today so that it would be ready to put up tomorrow, but with Dan coming over, Phil couldn’t make himself focus. Perhaps he’d promise that it would be up Tuesday or Wednesday then — that should give him enough time to edit.

Television was another safe topic. This week, Phil had started a new anime, and a decent percentage of his viewers would probably be interested in that. That was something he could draw out for a while, maybe even ask other people what they were watching, or if they had any recommendations.

But that was only two things. Even planning to do a short liveshow, he really should have three things planned to talk about.

Yesterday, he’d had lunch with PJ, who was visiting London for a meeting with his management. They’d gone to a new tropical-themed restaurant. The atmosphere and the drinks had been great, but the food had been mediocre at best. Phil had taken a picture of his pink, fruity drink, as well as the big fake palm trees, so he could show those, and maybe tell the story about his and PJ’s awkward experience with their flirty waiter.

Good enough. Surely he could stretch those conversations out long enough to be a suitable length. Phil closed out of his google doc and glanced at the clock. Three o’clock had finally rolled around.

That meant that Phil only had to kill another hour — if that — before Dan showed up. Phil knew Adaline’s train left at quarter to three, and Dan had mentioned that he had a couple of quick errands to run before coming straight to Phil’s.

Phil curled up on the couch to half-heartedly scroll through tumblr and finally, finally, let his mind wander to the topic he’d spent all morning trying to avoid.

Drinks with Dan and Adaline had been wonderful. Getting to see Dan in a different setting, getting to see so many different versions of Dan, had left Phil feeling closer and more infatuated with the boy than ever before. Big Brother Dan and Tipsy Dan and Drunk Dan and Flirty Touchy Dan had all been enthralling, and Phil found himself wanting more more more.

But that was the thing.

The warning that Adaline had given Phil, even though it had been paired with a confirmation that Dan liked him, was looming heavily in Phil’s mind.

Phil was fine with the fact that Dan needed time, and Phil was ecstatic that Dan wanted that time because he was determined to do things right with Phil.

But knowing that Dan needed time, that he needed boundaries of some sort, terrified Phil. Despite everything Adaline had said, Phil had no idea what those boundaries were. Some things he was sure about — kissing was an obvious no, as was anything beyond kissing. And judging by Adaline’s reaction to Dan climbing over him, anything that included Dan straddling Phil was probably out. Which, okay, fair. Phil had never struggled to keep his hands to himself more than he had in that moment — and at that point in the evening, he hadn’t even had confirmation that Dan liked him.

But what about everything else? Had Phil unknowingly crossed any lines last night? Was it okay when he’d slipped his hand onto Dan’s knee under the table? Was calling Dan dear too much? How about when he’d pulled Dan in closer on the pavement? Or when he’d let a very drunk Dan kiss him on the cheek?

Phil wondered if they should talk. But he was worried that such an outright conversation, such a blatant acknowledgment of their mutual feelings, would scare Dan away.

So Phil decided to follow Adaline’s advice. He would let Dan come to him — sober. Whatever sober Dan decided was appropriate, Phil would take without question. And if him and Dan got drunk together again — well, Phil would make sure to stay sober enough that he could keep his wits about him for the both of him.

The fast, repeated buzzing of his intercom pulled Phil out of his ruminating. Glancing at his phone screen, Phil saw that it was nearly four. Dan.

Well, here it goes, Phil thought. Whatever it may be.

Phil climbed off the sofa and made his way to the front door. He held down then door open button, not bothering to intercom down and make sure it was Dan — Phil didn’t think there was anyone else in the world who would think that ringing the buzzer that many times and that quickly was a good idea.

Giving up on coming across cool and nonchalant, Phil opened his door and leaned up against the doorframe, waiting for Dan. He didn’t have to wait for long — Dan must have taken the stairs instead of the painfully slow lift.

“Hey, Philly,” Dan said with a smile, despite being slightly out of breath. Definitely the stairs, then. Dan leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Phil’s cheek. When Dan pulled back, Phil could see the nerves in his eyes, the way his smile looked more tentative. He seemed worried about Phil’s reaction.

Phil exhaled deeply, unable to hold back his sigh of relief. Dan didn’t hate him. However much had happened between them the other night wasn’t too much. Phil hadn’t scared Dan off.

“Come in here, you dork.” Phil smiled back fondly, reaching out to grab Dan’s free hand and tugging him into the flat, taking a step backwards so that Dan had room to stand in the entryway. Dan teetered on his feet, losing his balance and falling forward, crashing through the doorway with more force than was probably intended.

Phil’s grip on Dan’s hand kept him from falling completely, and by the time Dan had righted himself properly, he was stood close enough to Phil that Phil could feel Dan’s breath on his skin. Dan looked up at Phil through thick eyelashes, and Phil felt his breath catch in his throat.

“I’m not a dork,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing and hand staying firmly in Phil’s. Phil noticed his cheeks were notably pink.

“Yes you are,” Phil retorted, his voice quiet enough to match the volume of Dan’s. “But it’s okay, I like you, anyway.”

Phil slid his hand up, rubbing Dan’s elbow fondly. The boom boom of Phil’s heart felt loud in his own ears and he hoped Dan couldn’t hear it too.

“Good,” Dan chuckled, finally stepping back and breaking the tension between them — a tension Phil was pretty sure had crossed into sexual territory. With a cough, Phil stepped back too, trying to regain his composure. Dan kicked the door shut behind him with an easy movement that Phil wouldn’t have been able to replicate if he’d tried.

His grin was infectious as he said, “Because I brought presents!”

Dan offered the white paper bag he was holding to Phil.

“Presents!” Phil exclaimed, happily surprised, taking the bag from Dan. “What is it?”

“Why don’t you open it and find out, you spoon.” Dan grinned, nudging Phil in the side and nodded down to the box. With a smile, Phil toed his foot against Dan’s in a silent recognition of the gesture.

Phil cracked the bag open, peeking in to see what Dan had brought. Inside was a clear container with four sloppily decorated cupcakes.

“Cupcakes!” Phil cheered. “Thank you, I’m excited to eat them.”

“Adaline and I made them in the middle of the night, sorry they’re kind of… ugly.”

Phil’s mind flooded with images of Dan and Adaline pouring over the cupcakes, probably making a mess of Dan’s kitchen and fucking a few up beyond repair. It made him want to cook with Dan — Domestic Dan was definitely a version of Dan that Phil wanted to see.

“They’re perfect and I love them,” Phil assured Dan, genuinely touched that Dan had decided to bring him cupcakes.

“I’m glad.” Dan kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his coat. Phil was a little disgruntled that he was holding the cupcakes and couldn’t undo the zipper or slip it off Dan’s arms himself — for some ridiculous reason, he’d come to really like helping Dan out of his coat. Maybe it was just an easy reason to be close to him. Carelessly, Dan chucked the coat on the tiny table by the door before passing Phil and heading into the lounge without any further invitation from Phil.

Phil liked seeing him like this, seeing Dan at ease in Phil’s home. It gave him hopeful — possibly naive — glances into what his future could be, what a future with Dan could be. If Phil closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander, he could see a world where him and Dan properly shared a space, where they moved around each other naturally. Just like Dan was moving around Phil’s home now, but more.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that, though.

Phil hadn’t even properly kissed the bloke yet, for fuck’s sake.

As tempting as the cupcakes were, Phil knew he should at least pretend to be a functional adult and wait until after dinner to eat them. He sat the cupcakes down in the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was a bottle of white wine chilling, in addition to an unopened bottle of red on the counter. Phil wasn’t sure which Dan preferred, and he’d wanted to be prepared either way. The wine could wait, though — just until after Phil’s liveshow. Doing his liveshow tipsy was definitely a bad idea. Instead, Phil poured them each a glass of ribena, and followed Dan into the lounge.

Dan had already made himself comfortable, sitting on the sofa with his legs curled up beneath him. His eyes were scanning the room — Phil wondered if Dan could tell that Phil had been doing some deep cleaning in here.

Setting the drinks down on the coffee table, Phil sat cross-legged on the sofa, facing Dan.

“Someone’s lounge looks tidy.” Dan eyes fell on the much neater tangle of cords beneath the television, before drifting back to Phil with a cheeky smile. “You know, I’ve already been over. I’ve seen how you live. You don’t have to clean because of me.”

Crap. So Dan had definitely noticed the cleaning, then.

“Wow, cocky much?” Phil teased, sticking out his tongue immaturely. “I had a day of productivity, and cleaning just happened to be one of the things I did.”

“Right.” Dan rolled his eyes, and flashed Phil a fond and knowing smile. “I believe that.”

Phil shook his head in exasperation, not bothering to deny Dan’s accusation any further. It was kind of true, after all.

“So how was the rest of Adaline’s trip?” Phil asked, switching gears.

“Good!” Dan answered, once he’d taken a sip of his Ribena and settled back into the sofa, just a hair closer to Phil. “We went shopping yesterday — I think I told you that.”

“You mentioned. Did you get anything good?”

“Neither of us really meant to, we were just window shopping. But we both ended buying something.” Dan shrugged, looking a little chagrined as he shifted, moving his legs out from under him and folding them in front of him. The sudden, warm pressure of Dan’s toes against Phil’s calves startled Phil. At this point, Phil was certain that they didn’t know how to be around each other without being in each other’s space, even if it was just the brush of toes against legs.

Phil liked it.

“Ah, impulse purchases.” Phil nodded knowingly. “I’m familiar with those. Mine are usually pretty dubious, and I end up returning half of them.”

“I know that feel,” Dan chuckled. “Adaline approved my new sweater though, so hopefully it’ll be okay.” Dan blushed a little, but Phil wasn’t sure why.

Phil eyed him, trying to decide if he wanted push the conversation, to attempt to figure out why Dan was so weirdly flustered by that of all things. But before Phil could make up his mind, Dan continued, changing the subject just as quickly as Phil had changed the previous one.

“Anyway, Philip, how are we going about this Buffy education?” He raised his eyebrows, looking at Phil expectantly.

Phil refrained from shaking his head at Dan’s antics, deciding it was best just to go along with Dan’s subject change.

“From the beginning, obviously,” Phil replied, rolling his eyes. Dan laughed, and shot Phil a fond look, which caught Phil off guard and caused a flustered blush to rise to his cheeks.

“Okay, then,” Dan said, “We should get started. Aren’t there like six seasons, or something?”

“Seven, actually,” Phil corrected as he stood up to put the dvd into the player.

“Okay, so we’re set on tv to watch together for a while.”

Phil was glad that his back was to Dan when he said that, because Phil was certain that his cheeks were flushing at Dan’s implication that this, that watching tv together and relaxing at one of their flats, was something that they would keep doing, that it was something that might even become a routine.

When Phil went back to the sofa, he sat himself down closer to Dan. Not as close as they’d ended up last time Dan was here, and not as close as they’d been at the bar the other night. He wasn’t even close enough that they were touching — but he was close enough that they could be touching. Close enough so that Dan could touch Phil if he wanted to.

Phil reclined back, twisting his upper body towards Dan the slightest bit. Just enough so that Dan had an open invitation, so that Dan could lean into Phil if he wanted to, but not so much that it was awkward if Dan didn’t.

And at first, Dan didn’t. Phil tried not to feel disappointed, because he knew it wasn’t a rejection on his part, but that didn’t mean that Phil wasn’t itching to cuddle with Dan. But Phil wasn’t prioritizing his desires — not right now anyway. He’d give Dan all the space he needed, waiting patiently until Dan did something that suggested he wanted more. But twenty minutes into the first episode, Dan leaned forward to take a drink of his ribena, and when he leaned back, he tucked himself into Phil’s side.

Phil didn’t want to scare Dan off, but he risked a look at Dan’s face. Dan’s eyes were trained carefully on the tv, almost as if he was deliberately not looking at Phil. Phil could see that his jaw was locked tight, giving away the fact that Dan was nervous about what he’d done.

Feeling more confident it would comfort Dan, as opposed to scare him, Phil wrapped his arm around Dan’s lower back, pulling him in closer. Dan went willingly, letting himself be moved by Phil.

They were quiet for a few minutes, but Phil could still feel tension in Dan’s body — he hadn’t quite relaxed into Phil. Finally, Dan spoke, voicing what must have been on his mind.

“Is this okay?” he whispered quietly.

Phil’s heart pounded at how tentative, how worried, how small Dan sounded. He pulled Dan closer, held him tighter, hoping to reassure him with his actions.

“Anything you want is okay,” Phil murmured back sincerely.

Between Phil’s words and actions, Dan must have been reassured enough because he practically melted into Phil. The full weight of Dan’s head fell onto Phil’s shoulder, his side pressing more firmly into Phil’s, his knees tipping over and landing in Phil’s lap.

Phil let himself revel in the moment, fully appreciate what holding Dan was like. Phil could smell Dan’s cologne — it was fresh and light, and vaguely reminded Phil of the white cotton candle he had in his bedroom. Soft curls were tickling the underside of Phil’s chin from where Dan had tucked his head in. Dan’s legs were a soft weight, and he had somehow curled all six feet of himself into such a small ball that he felt almost childlike in Phil’s arms.

It was perfect. Phil wanted to live in this moment forever.

Dan stayed in that position for the rest of the episode, plus the second and the beginning of the third. If anything, Dan settled more and more comfortably into Phil as the show progressed.

The apartment was chilly — Phil had learned the hard way that cheaper rent apparently meant shittier utilities — but with Dan pressed against his side, Phil wasn’t cold. For the first time, Phil was glad that it was cold in his apartment, because it was the perfect excuse to hold Dan even tighter.

Sometime during the second episode, Phil found the courage to wrap his free arm around Dan’s knees, which were already resting in his lap. Dan nestled in the slightest bit more as Phil began tracing faint lines up and down his clothed shin. The entire scene was so blissfully domestic and comfortable, that Phil was pretty sure they could have been watching a horror movie and he would still be unbelievably ecstatic.

Ten minutes into the third episode, though, Dan leaned across Phil to grab the remote off the opposite armrest, and paused the show.

“Be right back,” Dan mumbled quietly, as if speaking at full volume would break the calm, intimate spell that had been cast. And who knows, maybe it would.

Dan left the room without any further explanation, taking both of their empty glasses with him. For lack of anything better to do, and hoping to keep his mind distracted from overthinking whatever was happening between them, Phil pulled out his phone and scrolled through his twitter feed, not engaging with any of the content. In the distance, Phil heard the toilet flushing and the tap running.

When Dan came back into the room, Phil rested his arm along the top of the sofa, clearly inviting Dan back into his embrace. Dan didn’t sit close, though — he sat at the far end of the sofa, near the armrest.

Fuck. Had something happened while Dan was away? Was he suddenly having second thoughts? Phil panicked, worried that he’d done something to mess this up.

His arm was in the process of falling back to his side when Dan moved again. He didn’t scoot closer, not quite. Instead, he tipped on his side, shifting so that he was laying down, his head in Phil’s lap.

Phil’s hand froze in mid-air, completely taken aback by Dan’s actions. Phil looked down, but like last time Dan had cuddled into Phil, Dan’s eyes were staring straight ahead at the tv. Slowly, tentatively, Phil let his hand fall, coming to rest on Dan’s shoulder.

“Is this okay?” Dan whispered, just like last time.

It broke Phil’s heart that any part of Dan was concerned whether or not this was okay. Phil wondered if it was just because Dan was afraid of crossing lines with Phil, or if there was something bigger going on.

Phil couldn’t imagine Isabella being overly receptive to Dan cuddling up to her, particularly if Dan was the one trying to be cuddled. From what Phil had pieced together from the media and Dan, Isabella certainly seemed to put serious stock in gender roles — which really made her (failed) relationship with Dan, who seemed to take intentional steps to break gender roles, all the more confusing.

Phil shifted his hand from Dan’s shoulder, and, for a split second, he could feel Dan tense in its absence. But Phil moved his hand up, laying it on Dan’s head, running his fingers through his hair. Dan relaxed, his entire body going limp.

“I told you, anything you want is okay, dear. You’re in charge here.”

Dan’s head nodded so imperceptibly that if it hadn’t been in Phil’s lap, Phil would have missed it. But Phil hoped that meant that Dan understood what Phil was trying to say — that anything Dan wanted to give him was fine, that Phil was letting Dan set the pace for everything, that Phil wasn’t going to do anything first.

Confident that Dan felt comfortable enough to stay, Phil started to withdraw his hand from Dan’s head, planning to move it back to his shoulder, maybe even loop it around his waist. But Phil only managed to pull his hand back a few centimeters before Dan’s hand was flying up, fumbling behind himself for Phil’s hand, and leading it back to his head.

A wide, goofy smile spread on Phil’s face, and he was eternally glad that Dan wasn’t looking up at him. The action carried more weight than anything Dan could have said: Dan wanted Phil to touch him — wanted it badly enough that he was willing to take charge and ask for it. The silent plea for affection warmed Phil’s heart, and he was more than happy to comply.

Phil carded his hand through Dan’s hair. It was inexplicably soft and there was so much of it. Now that Phil had explicit permission to touch Dan’s hair, he couldn’t stop himself from twisting the curls around his fingers, pulling them slightly and watching them bounce back into place. Phil brushed a stray curl from Dan’s eyes, gently massaging his head. Dan let out a small, content sigh, his breath fanning across Phil’s legs.

So Dan liked to have his hair played with.

Phil was fairly certain that there was nothing cuter than that in the entire world.

As the episode continued, Dan’s breathing slowed, gradually becoming more steady. Careful not to disturb Dan, Phil leaned forward the slightest bit so that he could see Dan’s face. As he suspected, Dan’s eyes were closed, his lips gently parted, completely asleep.

He looked so soft, so young, so beautiful. Phil couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed at Dan for falling asleep during Buffy, not when it was this precious.

Phil stayed in that position, running his hands through Dan’s curls, watching an episode of Buffy that he’d already seen a million times, and would surely have to watch again later tonight so Dan knew what happened. He stayed, savoring the moment, until his phone reminder dinged, warning him that it was ten to seven, meaning he needed to get ready for his liveshow.

This moment was so soft, so unlike any other moment they had shared, that Phil was reluctant to break it.

“Sleepyhead?” Phil asked quietly, his hand moving a little more insistently through Dan’s hair. “I need to get up now, dear.”

Dan didn’t move. His eyes didn’t even flutter.

Phil sighed. Dan looked so peaceful like this that Phil didn’t want to have to wake him up with a rough shove of his shoulder, or a loud shout of his name. The clock on his phone was creeping closer and closer to seven o’clock, though, and if Phil had any hope of being on time, he needed to move now so that he could get started setting up. Preparing to gently shake Dan awake, Phil pulled his hand from Dan’s hair, and reached for his shoulder. Before he could nudge Dan, Dan seemed to wake up on his own — the loss of Phil’s touch seemed to be enough to stir him from slumber.

This boy was going to be the death of him, Phil was positive.

“Wah?” Dan mumbled unintelligently.

“I have to do my liveshow, now,” Phil told him gently, letting his hand drift back to Dan’s hair now that he was awake.

“But I’m comfortable.” Dan wiggled a little, nudging his head pointedly against Phil’s thigh.

Phil chuckled softly, unable to contain his amusement at how adorable this sleepy version of Dan was. “I’ll come back as soon as I’m done, I promise I won’t stream long and then we can have dinner, okay?”

Dan wrapped his arm around Phil’s legs, loosely holding him in place. “Don’t leave.” There was absolutely no strength to his grip, but Phil had never felt less inclined to move in his life.

He needed to though. It was far too late to cancel his liveshow now.

Phil’s other hand, the one that wasn’t tangled in Dan’s hair, came up to grip the hand that Dan was holding onto Phil’s leg with. Phil lightly pried the hand off his leg, linking Dan’s fingers with his own, and gently moving the hand back to Dan’s chest. “I can’t very well livestream with you on my lap, can I?”

Dan finally moved, rolling over so that he was gazing up at Phil through half-lidded eyes. Phil could tell that sleep was tugging at him.

“I mean you could,” Dan whined petulantly. There was a scratchiness to his voice, probably from sleep, that ruined his ability to pout properly, but Phil found it all the more endearing.

“And where am I going to put the laptop, silly?” Phil ruffled Dan’s hair, shaking him slightly. “Your head?”

“Ugh, fine.” Dan relented, raising up on his elbows just far enough to allow Phil to slip out from underneath him. Phil was barely free from Dan’s hold before Dan collapsed back down, staring up with giant, puppy dog eyes. He looked disgruntled, and annoyed, and gorgeous. “I get to pick where we order food from,” Dan said sternly.

“Deal,” Phil agreed. “Now go back to sleep and I’ll wake you up when I’m done. I’ll be in my bedroom.” Phil turned to leave, but didn’t make it far. Without moving his body, Dan had caught Phil’s hand in his own, tugging Phil back towards the sofa lightly. “Yes, Dan?” Phil asked, amused.

Dan pulled softly on Phil’s hand again. “Stay in here at least?” Dan looked up at Phil hopefully.

Staying in the lounge didn’t seem like the best option to Phil. If he stayed, Phil wasn’t sure what would be worse — inadvertently keeping Dan awake, or Dan choosing to stay awake and watching from across the room.

Ever perceptive, Dan seemed to sense Phil’s hesitation. His grip tightened and he tugged a bit more forcefully. The sudden pull knocked Phil off balance, causing him to nearly tumble to the sofa — right on top of Dan. At the last second, Phil managed to catch himself on the back of the sofa. He was still standing, just barely.

It was easy — far too easy — to imagine what it would be like if he wasn’t still standing. If he were on top of Dan for reasons other than poor coordination.

Bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Phil cleared the thoughts with an actual shake of his head. “I don’t want to keep you awake,” he murmured, his heart beating far faster than normal, and pulled his hand out of Dan’s and pushing off the sofa so he could stand again.

Dan stuck his bottom lip out, pouting exaggeratedly and flashing Phil his best puppy dog eyes. Truthfully, Phil didn’t think it would take much to convince him to stay with Dan, but he wasn’t about to tell Dan that. Phil knew he would feel less disruptive — and less awkward — if he just did his liveshow from his bedroom, but Dan was looking up at him with giant brown eyes peeking out beneath long dark eyelashes, and his plump lips were in the sexiest pout Phil had ever seen and —

Shit.

The puppy dog look was working. Phil felt his resolve crumble.

“Fine,” Phil relented, shaking his head at both of their antics. “Let me get my laptop, I’ll be back.”

God, Phil really would give into anything this boy wanted, wouldn’t he?

Phil glanced at the time and realized that he was supposed to be live in two minutes. That definitely wasn’t going to happen. Oh well.

When Phil came back to the lounge, Dan had rolled back onto his side, his head burrowed in the pillow that he must have grabbed from the end of the sofa. Phil couldn’t resist stopping by Dan on his way to the chair, where he was planning to sit for his show. Knowing he was late anyway, Phil spared a brief moment to run his hand through Dan’s hair again. His audience could wait. This boy, who was curled up delicately on his couch was far more important than punctuality.

“You came back,” Dan mumbled, eyes closed and lips barely moving.

“Of course, I told you I would.” Phil lingered for a moment, his hand still nestled in Dan’s curls, his thumb slowly dragging back and forth. Dan looked beautiful laying on Phil’s sofa, his head tilting into the light pressure of Phil’s hand.

Phil wanted to kiss him. Well, Phil always wanted to kiss him, but in that moment, staring down at Dan, the urge to kiss him was almost irresistible. But Phil had decided to follow Dan’s lead, to take whatever Dan decided to offer him. Kissing Dan was off limits.

Or at least, kissing him on the lips was off limits.

So far, Dan had kissed Phil on the cheek — twice — and once on the forehead. Surely, surely, Phil was allowed this. Surely Phil could kiss Dan somewhere else and it would be fine.

Hoping for the best, Phil leaned forward slowly and pressed his lips lightly to Dan’s temple. Dan didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Phil was beginning to think that Dan had fallen back asleep until he pulled away and saw that Dan’s eyes were still closed, but his mouth was pulled into the softest, sweetest smile Phil had ever seen. Smushed against the couch, Phil could see a hint of Dan’s giant dimple and, fuck. This boy was perfect. “I’ll wake you when I’m done,” Phil whispered.

Phil walked backwards to his chair, not wanting to take his eyes off Dan. The faint smile on his face lasted the entire time that Phil crossed the lounge, all the way until Phil sat down, turned on his computer, opened his google doc, and loaded the younow website. The last remnants of the smile were still pulling at Dan’s lips when Phil clicked the button to go live.

“Hey guys!” Phil greeted, watching as the view count slowly started to rise, and shouting out names as they scrolled across his screen in order to greet them, the way he always did when he went live. “I’m happy to see you all and spend some of Sunday night together!”

It wasn’t a complete lie. Although, he would be more glad to be spending his hour beneath the curly brunette on his sofa. Even if it meant staring into space, doing absolutely nothing but playing with Dan’s bouncy hair.

Phil’s comment seemed to go ignored, however. From the moment Phil tweeted the link to his show, comments flowed in about Phil’s location. Since moving to London, he’d done every live show from his couch.

Every. Single. One.

But today, he was in the chair, facing an angle of the lounge that his viewers had never seen before. There was a bookshelf behind him that they hadn’t had the opportunity to inspect — a fact that didn’t elude Phil, and he quickly ran through a mental list of its contents to make sure it didn’t contain anything too personal. He was pretty sure that his viewers could see out of his window too — meaning that the most dedicated of fans could probably piece together some information about his street if they tried hard enough. But the sofa was well spoken for, and Dan had made Phil promise to not leave the lounge so… here Phil was on the chair, whatever the consequences may be.

Phil’s eyes flitted over the chat, the comments about the location change sticking out and grabbing Phil attention. People were asking if Phil was still in his lounge, commenting on the previously-unseen stuff behind him, and asking why he was in a different location.

Phil opted to ignore all of the comments about his change in locale, and instead jumped straight into the pre-planned topics written out on his google doc.

He hinted at the video he’d filmed this morning, reassuring his fans that he’d get it edited and posted sometime around Tuesday or Wednesday, reviewed highlights from his last radio show, and even got into a silly review of the restaurant him and PJ had gone to yesterday. He showed everyone the pictures he had taken, as well as told the story about the waiter hitting on PJ.

Eventually, however, the chat became dominated by questions about his recent tweets with Dan, the Isabella break up, and his new background. In Phil’s mind, the new background seemed like the safest question. He had no idea what to say about drinks with Dan, seeing as that had been such a flirty, fun, wonderful disaster, or about the Isabella rumors.

Besides, drinks had occurred just one day after Dan had broken up with Isabella, something everyone was still speculating about. Phil didn’t want to open that can of worms if he could avoid it.

“Some of you have noticed I’m in front of the other bookshelf in my lounge,” Phil said, unable to keep a smidge of humor out of his tone. He craned his head over his shoulder, taking in what there was on the shelf. It was mainly an assortment of board games, as well as a few family pictures and vacation souvenirs.

“I like this one a lot, it has a lot of stuff I’ve gotten while traveling, and gifts and such. How do you guys like it?” Phil continued, looking back at the camera.

The chat started to move faster again, asking questions about the knick knacks on Phil’s bookshelf started streaming in.

“AnaBanana asks where the weird astronaut figurine came from. I got that from when went to Kennedy Space Center in Florida last year. Jake98 asks what my favorite game is.” Phil glanced behind himself at the board games on the self. “Honestly, I think it’s some of the games I’ve made up and play with my friends, but of the one’s on my shelf, probably Catan.”

Phil scanned the chat for another question to read. A lot — like, a lot — of them were asking why he’d changed scenery. The more time that passed, and the more Phil tried to avoid it, the more it seemed his viewers were determined to get an answer. At this point, Phil had done enough live shows that the knew the topic in the chat wouldn’t easily change unless he finally fucking addressed it.

So fine, he’d address it.

Given all of their tweeting, especially the picture from Friday night, it didn’t seem like Dan was too uptight about how close him and Phil seemed in their fans eyes. Hopefully, whatever Phil ended up saying wouldn’t be too much for Dan.

“A bunch of you — sorry, there are too many names to pick one — are asking why I’m in my chair, instead of on my sofa. Well —” Phil spun the computer around so that it faced the other half of the lounge. “I’ve got a sleeping Daniel Howell on my sofa, so there wasn’t too much of an option but to relocate.”

Phil turned the computer back to himself, and noticed that, unsurprisingly, there were more questions in the chat than there had been a few minutes ago — a lot of which were questions he wasn’t willing to answer. But there were at least some that gave him something to talk about. Something that was honest, but not too revealing.

“Sammi asks what Dan is doing here. Would you believe that he’s never seen Buffy?” Phil asked, eyes scanning the chat as the messages slowly moved from questions about Dan, to reactions to Phil’s explanation. “I don’t think I can be friends with anyone who hasn’t watched Buffy, so I insisted that he come over and watch some with me.”

As Phil read over the messages, he found that they were fairly evenly split between people who were appalled at Dan’s lack of culture, and people who were confessing their own ignorance.

“Those of you who’re saying you haven’t seen Buffy, shame on you!” Phil scolded playfully. “I don’t think it’s on UK netflix anymore, though. AmazingAbby asks what Dan thinks of Buffy so far. I actually don’t know. He fell asleep before we got the chance to talk about it.”

A flutter of movement across the room caught Phil’s eyes. He looked up just in time to see Dan shifting, rolling onto his stomach and pulling the pillow in closer.

Precious.

With more effort than it should have taken, Phil ripped his eyes from Dan’s sleeping form, and returned his attention to his livestream, looking for another appropriate question.

“Daniella asks if I’m annoyed that he fell asleep during my favorite show.” Phil chuckled. “I probably would be, except I know he’s had a long weekend, and that him and his sister were up late making cupcakes last night.”

Phil glanced over at the sofa, and, sure, he wasn’t angry because he knew Dan had had a late night. But the fact of the matter was, Phil probably wouldn’t have been angry under any circumstance, because he was having a hell of a hard time envisioning any reason to ever be mad at Dan.

“He brought some of the cupcakes,” Phil continued, for lack of something better to say. “Maybe I’ll tweet a picture of them when we eat them — if he’ll let me, that is. He claims that they’re ugly, but I like them. I think it’s cute how hard he tried.”

On the sofa, Dan stirred again — hearing his name must have roused him from his sleep. Rather than just shifting, though, Dan pushed the pillow away, and raised up to his elbows. With bleary eyes, Dan gazed at Phil for a moment, as if he were trying to take in what was happening.

Dan gave Phil a small wave, still looking soft and drowsy from his nap.

For a moment, Phil got lost in Dan’s eyes, relishing the opportunity to see him in this state, and forgot he was live. It wasn’t until Dan moved again, rolling over and sluggishly grabbing his phone from the table, that Phil remembered he had an audience of more than ten thousand people.

Phil’s attention snapped back to his computer. Vaguely, he registered that there were a few comments asking what had caught his attention, or if Dan was doing something. Phil ignored them for the time being, his attention snapping away again when Dan spoke.

“I’m ordering food,” he whispered, not particularly quietly.

Glancing at the clock, Phil realized he only had twenty minutes left of his liveshow — and that was if he didn’t cut it short. Now that Dan was awake, Phil was keen to wrap up so that they could get back to their evening together.

And eat dinner. Phil was starving.

But wait — Dan was the guest. Phil should at least try to pay.

Before Dan could get too far, Phil pulled his phone out of his pocket, typing in the passcode, and pulling up the food delivery app, which already had his card attached. “Here,” Phil chucked the phone towards Dan — his aim was crap, but it landed near Dan’s head on the cushion anway. “I’m the host, use my phone.”

Everything that Phil had learned about Dan so far had taught Phil that Dan was generous with his money — maybe bordering on too generous — so he was shocked when Dan picked up his phone and starting typing.

“Indian okay?” Dan asked.

“Sounds good. You can pick whatever, though. I owe you.” Phil replied, ignoring the chat.

When he turned back, he was immediately overwhelmed by the onslaught of messages. A lot of themwere just keyboard smashes, mixed in with comments saying Dan and Phil were domestic and just like a cute couple. Panicking, because he hadn’t addressed his audience in far too long, Phil searched for something he could read out.

Phil blindly read out the first message he could find that seemed to be an actual question. “Sandy asks why I owe Dan.” Phil chuckled awkwardly. “He was disgruntled that I had to wake him up and move him so I could do my liveshow.”

The potential implications of Phil’s words caught up with his brain a second too late. He’d already shown that Dan was completely sprawled across the couch, and Phil was very clearly streaming in a different location. What valid reason was there for moving Dan, unless they were in a compromising position?

Phil glanced up at Dan with a look of alarm in his eyes — an expression that was probably far more telling than Phil’s words had been — only to find Dan staring back at him with an amused smirk.

Phil’s eyes flickered back to the chat, frantically trying to find something else to read out and answer.

“Why’d you have to move Dan? Er —” Phil stumbled for a moment, trying to find a good explanation for that. Fuck, fuck. He was so fucking flustered that he’d read out the exact question that he didn’t want to answer.

Luckily, Dan saved Phil from his floundering. What Dan did, though, was completely unexpected.

“Phiiiilll,” Dan whined, pushing off the couch and trekking across the room. “I locked your phone and I need your thumb.”

Phil watched with appraising eyes as Dan ventured towards his chair, deliberately clicking the power button and locking the phone on his way. For a second, Phil was confused as to why Dan was carrying out the pretense so far — until Dan stopped and stood right in front of him.

Behind the camera, Dan pointed to the armrest of the chair with raised eyebrows, silently asking Phil’s permission to sit down. Sure, Dan had done liveshows of his own, but Phil didn’t expect Dan to be okay with — to want — to join Phil’s. Not right now anyway. Phil didn’t need to think about it though — for him, there was nothing to hide with Dan. For all Phil cared, viewers could interpret their actions however the hell they wanted. And if Dan was fine with sitting on the armrest of Phil’s chair during a liveshow, then Phil was too.

Phil slid over in his chair slightly, making a hair more room for Dan, silently answering Dan’s question. Dan hopped into the frame, settling onto the armrest, his shoulder pressing gently against Phil’s. He gave a small, two fingered wave to the camera, but didn’t otherwise acknowledge Phil’s audience.

“Give me your hand,” Dan ordered, reaching out and pulling Phil’s hand towards himself. Dan maneuvered Phil’s hand so that he was holding Phil’s thumb, and pressed it to the home button. Dan held Phil’s finger in place a few seconds longer than necessary, stroking his thumb against Phil’s once, twice, before finally letting it drop.

Shit. Fuck. The camera.

Phil ripped his attention from Dan and forced himself to look back at the screen. The chat was going wild, and Phil was just trying to compose himself before he started talking again.

“I’m ordering a feast,” Dan continued when Phil was silent for too long, saving Phil again. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Sounds great, I’m starved,” Phil replied, reading through the messages on the screen. He knew saying something about Dan’s sudden appearance was necessary. He looked for the safest message. Buffy. That was pretty tame. “People what to know what your verdict is on Buffy, Dan.”

Dan didn’t look up from Phil’s phone, but he answered. “She’s badass. I can see why you had such a crush on her.”

Phil almost choked on his own spit. Whatever he’d been expecting Dan to say, it hadn’t been that. Dan flashed him an impish smile and Phil could tell that Dan was teasing him, maybe even testing him to see what Phil would say on live video.

Two could play at that game.

“Who could blame me! She’s such an amazing girl. What do you think about her?”

“I have to admit, I see the appeal. I’m jealous.” Dan held Phil’s gaze for a minute — and whatever Dan was implying that he was jealous of, Phil was pretty certain it had to do more with Phil’s attraction than anything else. “She’s got an exciting life,” Dan finished, a beat too late, and looked back at the phone. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw the order completed screen load.

“She does.” Phil agreed. “Plus, she gets to make out with David Boreanaz, so I’d say she’s pretty lucky.”

Dan cocked his head. “Wait, who’s David Boratease?”

“Boreanaz,” Phil corrected. “He plays Angel.”

Dan’s cheeks flushed bright red — redder than Phil had ever seen them — but he was smiling widely and laughing loudly. “Philip —” Dan slapped Phil’s shoulder. “Michael —” another slap. “Lester!” slap. “How dare you? You know how I feel about spoilers!” Dan screamed indignantly.

Phil caught Dan’s flailing hand and pinned it down to his lap, but he was unable to stop giggling long enough to muster up an apologetic expression. “Come on, you knew it was coming.”

Dan rolled his eyes. Of course — Phil had forgotten that Dan didn’t care if a spoiler was something obvious or predictable. To Dan, a spoiler was a spoiler, and they were all mortal sins.

“You know, I was going to be nice and raid your kitchen for dinner supplies while you finished your liveshow, but just for that, I’m making you do it.” Dan snatched his hand from under Phil’s and started moving the computer mouse. “Say goodbye to your audience, Phil. I’m forcing you to hang up now.”

Dan hovered over the end show button for a moment, giving Phil the opportunity to call out some names — or knock his hand away and derail his plan, if Phil wanted to.

Phil didn’t. Not exactly

“Bye Sarah, bye Nick, bye Jasmine!” Phil read out, making his voice playfully frantic.

“Be good everyone,” Dan added. “Relax. Hydrate. Pet a dog,” he said, and before too much time could pass, making it obvious this was just a ploy to end the show, Dan clicked the end button and abruptly closed the laptop, not waiting for the website to shutdown properly.

Phil fully expected Dan to get up, to lead them into the kitchen, or even to yell at Phil for making such a mess of things, but instead, Dan sat the laptop on the coffee table and swung his legs across Phil’s lap.

“I can’t believe you just spoiled that for me!” Dan cried, voice still risen.

Naturally, Phil let his hands rest on Dan’s knees. A part of him was surprised by Dan’s choice of conversation, but the other part of him was offended by Dan’s offense. “It’s not that big of a spoiler! You know they like each other.”

“Still!” Dan whined. “You ruined the whole will they, won’t they thing.”

“Sorry, dear,” Phil apologized without any conviction, grinning at Dan. “If you move, I’ll pour you an apology drink,” he offered.

“No,” Dan huffed. “I’m tired, and lazy, and I’m not moving until the food comes.” As if to prove his point, Dan slid down a little, seating himself more firmly in Phil’s lap, and tucking his head into the crook of Phil’s neck.

Whatever Phil was expecting Dan to do, it wasn’t that. Sure, Dan had been cuddling into Phil more and more as the weeks passed, but right now there was an actual reason to get up, and Dan was still procrastinating.

“Oh wow,” Phil deadpanned. “What a harsh punishment. However will I live.”

Phil felt, more than heard, Dan giggle into his neck. “Shut up, Philly.”

Giggling, Phil wrapped arm around Dan’s waist, and let a comfortable silence wash over them. And for a few minutes, Phil did shut up. But sitting in the silence, with Dan tucked into his lap, after having just crashed Phil’s liveshow, left Phil’s mind to wander.

He was terrified of scaring Dan off. But Phil was worried that there might be worse consequences if they didn’t discuss at least a few things — namely their public images.

Phil knew Dan wasn’t out, and he had no idea if Dan had any intentions of coming out. And even if Dan did plan to come out, he had kept all of his relationships before Isabella quiet. Making the wrong move in the public eye could have much bigger, much more real, consequences for Dan, and Phil didn’t want to screw things up for him.

Phil took a deep breath. He didn’t want to force Dan to talk.

But they needed to.

“Dan?” Phil asked tentatively.

Dan hummed questioningly, but didn’t pull back from Phil’s neck.

“I don’t want—“ Phil cut himself off. “I know that—“ Shit. How the hell was he supposed to start this kind of conversation? Especially when, for all intents and purposes, he and Dan weren’t even currently dating? “Can we talk?” he settled on.

It was the most cliche opening Phil could have thought of, but it seemed to work. Dan immediately shot up from where he’d been leaned against Phil, tearing his head from Phil’s neck and sitting up ramrod straight. There was a spark of terror in his eyes and — oh shit.

Phil should have realized how Dan might interpret those words. They were the cliche warning for I’m about to dump you.

“What’s wrong?” Dan blurted out, a note of fear in his voice.

“Nothing bad, nothing bad,” Phil reassured him so quickly that he spoke over the end of Dan’s question.

“Okay…” Dan sounded wary. His fingers were vigorously tapping against his thigh, and, briefly, Phil wondered if they were tapping out a tune. But more than that, Phil wanted to reach out and still Dan’s agitated hands. Dan swallowed thickly. “I’m listening.”

“It’s just… I think it’s important for me to know what you want.” Phil searched Dan’s face for some indication of how he was reacting the moment the words were out of his mouth.

The hand that had been tapping was frozen in mid-tap, two fingers hovering centimeters off Dan’s thigh. The blinding terror from before had dulled to just a small glimmer, but other than that, Phil had no idea what Dan was thinking.

Phil took a deep breath and finished, expressing the worry that had been eating away at him since Friday night. “I don’t want to cross any lines. I don’t want to fuck up.”

“Oh.” Dan looked surprised, and maybe a little relieved. But Phil was almost certain that there was a small smile tugging at his lips — as if he was… pleased? that Phil was scared of messing up. “Fuck what up?” Dan prompted when Phil didn’t continue.

“Well, I’m nervous about a lot of things, but I think most importantly, we should talk about what we are like… publicly. Because whatever we do there, we can’t take back. Once it’s out there, it’s out there.”

The fear etched on Dan’s face was back. “Fuck. Did I fuck up? I’m so sorry if I took things too far.”

“No!” Phil rushed to reassure him. “Nothing you’ve done has been too much for me. But I want to make sure that I don't do anything that is too much for you.”

“Oh,” Dan repeated, shock etched on his features. Phil thought Dan looked much too surprised that someone was taking into consideration his wants — just when Phil though Isabella couldn’t have been any shittier, too . “Yeah, yeah. I guess you’re right. That’s probably a good conversation to have.”

Phil idly rubbed his thumb back and forth across Dan’s knee, which was still thrown across his lap. “You’re not out.”

The unspoken question was obvious. Do you want to be?

“Not publicly, no. I’m not.” Dan’s gaze fell to his lap as he fiddled with the hem of his sweater. “I’m, um, not really planning on it either. Not right now at least.” He glanced back up, just for a second, before averting his eyes downward again. “But you are. Or at least, you’ve made it clear that you’re interested in guys. I mean, you’ve made it very clear you find at least a few male celebrities attractive — I mean, I definitely see what you find hot about David Whatever. But like, you’ve made that clear. Publicly.”

“I have,” Phil confirmed.

“I understand if it’s not okay with you that I don’t want to do that,” Dan nearly whispered.

Phil squeezed Dan’s knee, shaking it a little to encourage him to look up. “I already told you, you’re in charge. I’m okay with whatever you want.”

“Really?” Dan didn’t sound convinced.

Taking a risk, Phil let his hand slide up from Dan’s knee, coming to rest halfway up his thigh. “Really, really. So talk to me, tell me what the boundaries are. Surely you’ve seen the shipping…”

A small smirk ghosted across Dan’s face. He definitely had seen it, then. “It’d be impossible not to.” Dan chuckled. “I guess that… whatever is between us is pretty obvious.”

“I like you,” Phil murmured. “A lot.”

“I… same,” Dan sighed, looking down again. “I just need some time before I can give you more than just, well, this.” Dan motioned vaguely to their positions.

Phil moved his hand from Dan’s thigh to his chin, gently forcing him to look up. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, turning a deep red from the force of his bite. Phil tugged at it lightly with his thumb, making Dan release his grip. His finger rested on Dan for a moment, stroking back and forth, slowly dragging against the chapped lip. Phil watched Dan’s eyes flicker down to Phil’s had, only to shift back up and meet Phil’s gaze through his lashes. The urge to kiss Dan pulled at Phil — just as it always did — but Phil bit it back. He’d wait. “Take all of the time you need, Dan. I’ll be right here.” Phil dropped his hand back down to Dan’s leg.

Dan reached out, linking his fingers with Phil’s, squeezing softly. With a smile, Phil tightened his grip, holding Dan’s hand more firmly. “Thanks. You’re wonderful.”

“I think you mean amazing.” Phil winked — or he tried to, at least. He was rubbish at winning and he was pretty sure it came out more as a violent wink than anything, but Dan didn’t seem to find it too weird.

Dan threw his head back, laughing loudly and exposing his long, gorgeous neck. “Of course,” Dan agreed, looking back at Phil. “How could I forget?”

Phil desperately wanted to let everything go, to hold onto this teasing, light mood. But he hadn’t exactly gotten answers — not the ones he needed most, anyway. “Speaking of AmazingPhil…” he prompted.

“Yeah,” Dan sighed, knowing what Phil was getting at. “I’m not a hundred percent sure myself, to be honest. I don’t mind the shipping. No one is going to ship us if… they’re homophobic or whatever. But the second anything more is confirmed, it will be all over. There will be so many more people to deal with. I’m terrified of the media debating my sexuality, or people arguing that Isabella was a coverup, or forcing me into being just a gay musician.”

“I get it,” Phil traced his fingers up and down Dan’s thigh in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “So things that may fuel shipping are fine, but anything more explicit than hinting is off limits?” Phil tried to clarify.

“Yeah, I think so.” Dan nodded slowly, looking like he was still trying to process what Phil was saying. “That sounds good.”

“Let’s just talk, yeah?” Phil ducked his head a bit so he could look dan in the eye, rubbing his hand against Dan’s with a bit more insistence. “I’ll try to let you know before I do anything that might be too much and you always have the right to stop me.”

A slow smile spread across Dan’s face, and he looked more confident than he had the whole conversation. “Okay. Thanks.”

The door buzzer saved either of them from having to awkwardly try to change the conversation — for which Phil was immensely grateful. The noise startled Dan, who jumped in Phil’s lap, nearly crashing their heads together.

But rather than saying anything, or lingering any longer, Dan hopped off the chair and offered his hand to Phil. Phil let Dan pull him up, doing his best to steady himself before he crashed into Dan. He wobbled for a second, bracing himself with a hand on Dan’s shoulder.

They needed to move — the delivery person was not going to wait around just so Phil could savor another moment in Dan’s space.

“I’ll go get the food, you open the wine?” Phil offered.

“Perfect.”

As Phil moved from the lounge, Dan followed after him.

“Where’s the wine?”

Phil slipped into his house shoes — the hall was usually kind of gross. “There’s white in the fridge, red on the counter. Your choice.”

Dan didn’t respond. Phil could hear him heading into the kitchen as Phil ducked out of his flat, leaving the door cracked behind him so he didn’t have to find his keys. Rather than waiting for the lift, Phil ran down the flight of stairs — he’d made the person wait long enough already.

By the time Phil got downstairs, he realized that Dan hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was ordering a feast. The delivery girl handed Phil not one, not two, but three bags of food.

Phil certainly wasn’t complaining. He was ravenous.

He took the bags and signed the receipt, making sure to tip just as generously as Dan normally did. Ladened down with food, Phil waited for the lift this time. There was no way Phil was climbing four flights of stairs while carrying three heavy bags of Indian food.

The entire lift ride, the smell of the Indian food taunted Phil. Whatever Dan had ordered smelled great.

After what felt like ages, the lift doors parted and Phil stepped out onto his floor. Eager to finally be so close to eating, Phil scurried down the hallway and kicked his house shoes off as he entered his flat, closing the door behind him with his arse. Phil bypassed the kitchen and went straight to the lounge, hoping that Dan hadn’t forgotten anything they needed for dinner.

In the lounge, Phil found Dan seated on the floor, wedged between the sofa and the coffee table. Spread before him were plates, silverware, and napkins, as well as two glasses of wine that were filled a bit fuller than customary.

Red wine.

Thank god.

Phil secretly hated white wine, but he’d bought some, just in case that was what Dan preferred. For Dan, Phil would probably suffer through just about anything, including disgusting white wine.

“I’m glad you picked red,” Phil confessed, nodding to their wine glasses as he unpacked the bags of food. “I don’t like white very much.”

“Why the hell do you have it, then?” Dan asked, helping with the food by taking the lid off each container Phil sat down, and placing them down on the coffee table in a neat row.

Phil felt his cheeks coloring, and tried to casually hide his face behind the empty paper bag, making a big ordeal of folding it, but he had the sneaking suspicion that Dan could see his pink cheeks anyway. “I wasn’t sure what kind you liked best.”

The only consolation was that Dan’s cheeks turned as pink as Phil’s. Dan, however, covered up his fluster better than Phil, letting out a loud chuckle and shaking his head. “Well, Philly, I abhor white wine, so you can stopping buying it on my behalf.”

Phil laughed, too. It was a bit cheesy, but Phil liked that they were so compatible with absolutely everything — right down to their taste in wine. It made everything feel so easy. Natural.

“Brilliant.” Phil beamed. “What am I going to do with that bottle, though?”

“Fuck if I know,” Dan shrugged, still giggling a little. “Cook?” he suggested weakly.

“Right,” Phil scoffed. “Because I’m a fancy enough cook to know how to cook with wine.”

“Next time I come over,” Dan said as he scooped a bit from each container onto his plate, carefully placing the food neatly back in the line. “We can figure out something to cook instead of doing takeaway. It will be an adventure.”

“Deal,” Phil agreed, taking the serving spoon from Dan’s hand and filling up his own plate, setting the containers down wherever there was room. Dan followed behind Phil, shifting the boxes back into a neat line.

They ate until they were stuffed, and then they ate just a little bit more. Dan asked about the rest of Phil’s liveshow, which led to a slightly less dramatic retelling of the flirty waiter story, as well as a very accurate description of his slime mess — there was no underselling how much of a trainwreck that had been.

After they’d eaten as much as they could, Phil put the lids back on the takeaway containers and piled them into the fridge. While he was in the kitchen, Phil refilled both of their glasses of wine, and swiped the container of cupcakes from the counter.

When Phil got back to the lounge, he saw that Dan had wiped down the table as best as he could, and moved to sit on the couch. Phil handed Dan their wines and sat the cupcakes on the coffee table, leaving them there until their food settled. Dan waited until Phil was settled on the sofa before handing him his wine and curling into his side. Relieved that Dan was relaxing and growing more assertive, Phil smiled softly and pulled Dan in closer.

The wine must be helping, loosening Dan’s inhibitions some. Phil silently vowed that this would be his last glass, and he would drink it slowly. Phil had promised Adaline that he would let Dan — sober Dan — set the pace. If Dan was going to be drunk and flirty, Phil definitely needed to stay sober enough to resist. There was no chaperone this time.

They stayed that way, curled closely together on Phil’s sofa, until their wine was empty and the next episode finished. Dan took Phil’s empty wine glass from his hand and leaned forward to sit them both on the table. Phil expected Dan to come back with the cupcakes, but when Dan leaned back, he laid his head in Phil’s lap again, his hand immediately seeking Phil’s and pulling it to his head — not that Phil needed any extra encouragement to play with Dan’s curls.

Barely twenty minutes into the next episode, Dan was asleep again.

Phil glanced at the time on his phone — it was rapidly approaching midnight. It would be cruel to make Dan trek back to his apartment at this hour, especially since he was so clearly exhausted. Phil made the executive decision that Dan would stay. If Dan wasn’t already asleep, Phil would insist that Dan take his bed and Phil sleep on the sofa, but Phil feared that making the boy move would be more disruptive than a night’s sleep on his mediocre sofa.

Dan must have been sleeping much more heavily than before, because this time, Dan didn’t wake when Phil removed his hand from Dan’s curls, nor when Phil lifted Dan by the shoulders and wiggled out from beneath him.

From the floor, Phil picked up the discarded fluffy blanket and draped it across Dan, making sure to cover his entire long body. Dan’s phone, which had fallen to the floor at some point, caught Phil’s eye. Phil picked it up and tapped the home button, lighting up the screen. The battery was only on fifteen percent, which would definitely not survive the night.

Doing his best to keep the phone in Dan’s line of vision, Phil plugged Dan’s phone into his spare charger by the sofa, turning the volume up a few notches, just in case there was an important alarm set.

Not for the first time that night, Phil stared down at Dan, completely in awe at the beautiful boy sprawled across his sofa. Phil had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky that someone as truly wonderful as Dan apparently liked him, be he was so, so grateful for it.

Unable to contain his small smile, Phil tucked the blanket a little closer around Dan shoulders and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss into the mess of curls falling across his forehead.

“Goodnight, love,” Phil whispered.

“Nigh’ nigh’...” Dan mumbled back.

a/n: can’t wait to hear from you loves <3 

[[next chapter]]

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 12)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 14.9k story words: 81k (so far) chapter: 12/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: i’d like to officially dedicate this chapter to @auroraphilealis​ because she begged for me to write out a scene that ended up being 2.5k and i LOVE it. also, i thought i’d officially include a little spanish dictionary here for you (these are loose translations and the exact use of them tends to vary across countries, but this is good enough): tarado = dumbass/idiot. cabrón = asshole/bastard, querido = dear/love, puta = slut.

please be aware of that there are a few extra warnings for this chapter. this chapter has some homophobia/biphobia in it

By eleven in the morning, there were only three red velvet muffins left — not that Phil was surprised, he’d been warned that they were a big seller. Still, he hadn’t expected to actually have to save a muffin for Dan. When Phil had bribed him with a treat last night, he had assumed that Dan probably had a busy day planned and would come in early in the morning, before the muffins ran out, before Dan had to do… whatever romantic things he was doing today.

But by late morning, Dan still hadn’t shown up, and Phil couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

Despite having no right to see Dan on Valentine’s Day, Phil had hoped that Dan wouldn’t forget— or worse, get so caught up in spending time with Isabella that he just didn’t have time to stop by.

It was just that…

Sure. Dan had a girlfriend. A girlfriend that he had been dating for almost a year. And, okay, fine. Maybe it sounded like a pretty crap relationship — though, from the little snippets he heard from Dan and saw online, it seemed like they were making some attempts to resolve a few of their differences.

But.

But, Phil couldn’t imagine how Dan could possibly be in love with her. Everything he’d ever said about her had been lukewarm at best — usually downright bitter. Phil had never properly been in love himself, or at least he didn’t think he had, but he’d watched enough friends pair off that he was positive that people truly in love were a lot happier when they talked about their relationships than Dan was when he talked about his own. They usually mentioned their partners in casual conversation, and they usually didn’t flinch when someone else mentioned their partner’s name. Dan never talked about Isabella; he even abruptly changed the subject whenever she came up.

And then there was how Dan acted around Phil.

Phil knew Dan had been lacking a friend he could talk about nerdy things with. Phil knew Dan had been wanting a friend he wasn’t connected to professionally. But those needs didn’t quite explain why Dan spent so much free time at Beans and Grind — and apparently only when Phil was working, if Emmalee was to be trusted — or chatting with Phil so often on twitter, both publicly and privately.

Or why Dan had spent nearly four hours on skype with Phil last night.

Up until yesterday, Phil hadn’t been sure whether or not Dan was really interested in Phil, if the tension between them really was… everything Phil imagined it to be.

But last night, when they’d skyped… Phil’s doubts had melted, leaving a quiet reassurance in its wake. Dan had seemed so… free while they skyped. And on twitter, he’d been so… talkative. Phil couldn’t believe that that much chemistry could be just in his head. Dan had to feel it, too.

It had taken Phil the entire skype call to edit a fourteen minute video — and that was on top of the half hour he’d already put into it before Dan had called. Simple videos (like this one) normally took him two hours, maybe three if he fumbled a lot while filming, but he’d just been so damn distracted by Dan that he couldn’t focus as well as he normally could.

Not that he was complaining. Glancing at the bottom left corner of his screen and seeing a little live feed of Dan had been a much welcomed distraction. He had looked adorable while he was working on his song. Whenever the guitar had been silent for too long, Phil’s eyes had been drawn towards Dan, wanting to check if he was still there, if he was working on something different, if he was just thinking. Most of the time, Dan’s face had been scrunched up in concentration, lip pulled into his mouth and eyes staring at the ceiling as if it held the answer Dan was looking for. Phil hadn’t been able to restrain himself from taking a screenshot.

During their call, Dan had said a few things that caught Phil’s attention, that made him really question his conclusion that he’d just been imagining Dan’s feelings for Phil. Dan had mentioned — a few times — that he loved being able to work alongside someone, that their call was the most relaxing thing he’d done in a long time, that he felt comfortable, that he was happy.

And the way Dan had said those things, hushed and sincere, paired with the look that had sparkled in his eyes, made Phil so, so sure that there was something more than platonic gratitude buried beneath those words.

Especially since Phil had so often listened to Dan complain about the fact that Isabella, his girlfriend, was never interested in sharing those parts of his life — a fact that seemed to deeply upset Dan, even if he did usually brush it off.

Even now, knowing that Dan was in a relationship, Phil’s heart soared when he thought about the fact that there was a very real possibility that his feelings for Dan weren’t going unreciprocated. That meant there was hope. Maybe.

At half past eleven, a customer came in and bought a red velvet muffin, leaving only two. Phil sighed and waited until the customer left before slyly taking a muffin out of the display case, setting it on a plate, and hiding it on a shelf behind the counter. He didn’t know for sure if Dan was still planning to come, but Phil really didn’t want Dan to show up and have the store be out of the coveted pastry.

Every time the bell on the door chimed, Phil’s heart jumped a little, and his eyes snapped to the entrance to see if it was Dan.

It never was. Over and over again, Phil found himself disappointed.

Eventually, someone came in and bought the last muffin, and Phil was eternally grateful that he’d sequestered one for Dan. He checked his phone, noting that a half an hour had passed, and caved into his own anxieties. Before he could lose his nerve, Phil typed a DM to Dan, and pressed send.

Phil Lester: Hey! I thought you were coming by today?

It wasn’t until the message was sent and sitting in Dan’s inbox that Phil read it over. He cringed at how desperate and decidedly not casual he sounded. Regardless of his new confidence that things with Dan probably weren’t one-sided, Phil didn’t want to come on too strong — especially not while Dan was dating Isabella.

Fuck. Isabella.

For the briefest of moments, Phil had allowed himself to forget, to get carried away in his desires for Dan, and ignore her existence entirely. Phil really hoped she didn’t see that message.

Grabbing a rag out of the bin, Phil set to work wiping down the counter, eager for a distraction. Too late to do anything about the message now.

As the afternoon continued to wear on, Phil found himself clicking the home button on his phone every couple of minutes, checking if Dan had messaged him back — something that was particularly pathetic since his phone was on loud and if Dan had messaged him back, Phil would have undoubtedly heard the notification.

Phil worried that Dan had forgotten, or that he had changed his mind — and honestly, Phil wasn’t sure which would hurt more. Regardless, his needy DM would surely come across as clingy in both cases, inevitably scaring Dan off. Phil could only hope that neither of those were true.

But to Phil’s great relief, Dan eventually replied. It took him nearly an hour, but he replied.

Daniel Howell: i will! louise showed up for surprise brunch though, so i’ll be there on my way back from the shops

Phil breathed out a relieved sigh as a rush of worry washed out of his body. Not only was Dan still planning to come to Beans and Grind today, he was coming later than Phil expected because of plans with Louise, not Isabella. Maybe Phil had no right to be happy about that, but he was.

For the first time all morning, Phil didn’t even resent the love-themed playlist playing softly out of the store speakers.

While Phil waited to hear from Dan, three separate customers came in, all asking for red velvet muffins. Phil felt a little guilty that there was one left, hidden behind the counter, especially when he didn’t know for sure if Dan was coming or not. But he apologized to each person, telling them that hopefully they’d make them again soon.

Luckily, Phil didn’t have to wait long for Dan after he messaged back. He only had time to wipe down three tables before he glanced up and saw Dan outside the door. He was standing with his back to the door, facing a girl that Phil was pretty sure was Louise, if he was remembering from Dan’s instagram correctly. Phil moved to a table by the window, suddenly committed to doing a very thorough job of cleaning. Or at least a thorough job of this one particular table.

Phil scanned the pair of them more closely now. They were both holding bags from a jeweler — apparently that was the shops Dan had been talking about. Phil’s stomach turned uneasily as he thought about the fact that whatever was in Dan’s bag was probably expensive, gorgeous, and for Isabella.

The window glass was incredibly thin, which usually annoyed Phil because the passing cars and screaming children were barely muffled, but at this moment in time, Phil was unbelievably grateful. Listening carefully, he could just make out their conversation.

God, was he a terrible person for eavesdropping?

“Please, please, please, please?” Louise was whining.

“No, Lou. I said you can meet him soon and I meant soon, not, like, today.” Dan sounded adamant. Although, if Phil knew Dan as well as he thought he did, Dan also sounded a little embarrassed. A little like he was begging Louise to agree to whatever he was suggesting.

It was the word him that really caught Phil’s attention. Who was him? Who could Dan possibly be feeling so shy about? Who could he be trying to avoid introducing Louise to today — on Valentine’s Day of all days? Phil tried to remember if Dan had mentioned any new guys in his life. Maybe someone from work? But why would Louise think that today would be a good day to meet them?

“But Daaaan,” Louise whined as she tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. She was smiling though, and Phil could tell that she wasn’t being too serious about whatever it was that she was complaining about.

“I promise. Soon, okay? Just let me get through tonight and tomorrow morning in peace and then we can talk about… that.”

Phil didn’t have any idea what that could possibly be about, but he was smart enough to know that tonight most likely meant some kind of plans with Isabella. It might have been wishful thinking, but Phil wasn’t sure that Dan sounded particularly excited for tonight.

“Ugh, if you insist,” Louise said with an eyeroll so dramatic that Phil could see it from inside. At this point, he’d dropped any pretense of wiping down the tables by the window. “I expect you to call me as soon as you’re done with breakfast tomorrow.”

“Of course I will,” Dan reassured her. “If you’re not still at Tom’s, we can meet for coffee.”

“Here?” There were a few beats of silence before Louise laughed — Dan must have made some sort of amusing face. Phil wished Dan’s back wasn’t to the window.

That’s when a realization hit Phil like a bombshell: Louise wanted to meet some guy in Dan’s life. Dan had promised soon, but not today. Louise was trying to schedule their coffee date at Beans and Grind.

Could Phil be who Louise was pushing Dan to let her meet?

But why would she be practically begging for an introduction? Unless…

Unless Louise had reason to believe something was going on between Dan and Phil.

Against his better judgement, Phil’s stomach flipped over at that thought, his heart soaring. There was a chance that Dan liked him. Maybe not a big chance, but a chance.

“Do you really think here is the appropriate place to talk about Izzy?” Dan asked, sounding exasperated. Oh, shit. Louise was wanting to hear about Dan’s date. Did that mean whatever was happening at brunch tomorrow had something to do with Isabella, too?

“Fine, fine. We can go to the place by mine. Let me know if it’s safe to bring Darcy. I want all the details of breakfast.”

“I’ll censor as necessary, bring her. I want to see her in her new earrings.”

Censor? What the hell was Dan doing at breakfast tomorrow — potentially breakfast with Isabella — that Dan would need to censor in front of a child? It was breakfast for god’s sake. The suspense of it was killing him, but it wasn’t like Phil could just ask Dan what his big breakfast plans were tomorrow, not without giving away the fact that he’d been eavesdropping.

He’d just have to hold onto that knowledge, and try not to think about it too much.

“Okay! I guess I’ll be going now, since you’re so rudely abandoning me. Thank you again for the pretty earrings, Uncle Dan!” Louise said sweetly, leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to Dan’s cheek. As she pulled away, she glanced towards the window, her eyes meeting Phil’s. Phil froze, humiliated that he’d been caught out, positive that Louise was going to tell Dan that someone had blatantly been listening in on their conversation.

She didn’t though. Louise held Phil’s gaze through the window for a second, a sly smile spreading across her face, before she turned on her heel and walked away. Phil barely had time to spin around so his back was facing the window and begin cleaning a different table before he heard the chime of the door, quickly followed by Dan’s happy sounding voice.

“Hello there, Philip. Were you worried I forgot about you?”

Phil stopped wiping the table and turned to face Dan in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. Dan was waltzing into the store, unzipping his coat, and shrugging out of it to reveal an out of character pink sweater that contrasted heavily with his black jeans. Phil stared for just a second before pulling himself out of his thoughts. He shouldn’t let himself get wrapped up in Dan’s outfit choices. Even if Dan did look unexpectedly hot in pink.

“It was getting late and we were running low on muffins,” Phil smiled. “Just thought I’d check in.”

That sounded casual, right?

“Am I too late?” Dan looked alarmed.

“Of course not, I saved you one.” Phil jerked his head to the counter, leading Dan over. As Phil circled around the bar, Dan hopped up on one of the stools, leaning impatiently across the counter.

“Was that Louise?” Phil asked, tossing his wash rag into the backroom, before joining Dan at the front counter.

“Huh?” Dan asked, clearly trying and failing to sound ignorant. “When?”

Phil motioned to the window. “Just now. The girl you were out there with. I saw you through the window.”

“Oh, yup. That’s her.” Dan’s voice was dismissive. Phil narrowed his eyes.

“Why didn’t she come in? I’ve been wanting to meet her,” he pressed.

“She, um, she, had to uh, get home to Darcy,” Dan explained, sounding as shifty as he looked.

Phil reflected back on the conversation he’d overheard between Dan and Louise. It hadn’t seemed like Louise was in a hurry. In fact, she’d seemed kind of miffed that Dan was leaving her, that he… wasn’t inviting her in.

Maybe Phil was right after all. Maybe the guy Louise was so adamant about meeting was Phil. Carefully, Phil considered Dan.

“Ah, shame,” Phil said, deciding to let Dan off easy and not push the issue. “Louise sounds fun. I thought you were going to introduce me!”

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t going to push the issue much.

“Soon, okay, soon. Just let me —” Dan abruptly stopped talking, closing his eyes and shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts. “Soon.”

Soon. Just like he’d promised Louise.

Interesting.

Deciding that he’d pried enough information out of Dan for today, and not completely sure what to make of any of it anyway, Phil dropped the conversation. He knew he should bend down and get Dan’s muffin, but he lingered for a moment, opting to take in Dan’s appearance instead. The pink sweater he was wearing suited him, weirdly, and somehow the black hem of it matched his ripped black skinny jeans.

“You look so… edgy soft.” Phil was at a loss for more coherent words.

Cutely, Dan pulled the long sleeves over his hands, turning his hands into adorable sweater paws. “Shut up,” he muttered. “Louise bought me it, I couldn’t say no to wearing it.”

“I like it,” Phil complimented earnestly — he hoped not too earnestly.

“You sure?” Dan sounded skeptical. “How does it look? Is it kind of cool, or do I look like cupid? A sad cupid?”

“You’re pulling it off. You look a bit like a sad cupid, but more like a cool, cute cupid, actually. It works.”

“Yeah?” Dan asked tentatively, a blush rising to his cheeks. “A cute cupid?”

“The cutest,” Phil grinned. “Cute enough to earn a muffin. Last one actually.”

Phil slid the plated muffin towards him, accidentally brushing the back of his hand along Dan’s inner forearm. Simultaneously, both of their eyes snapped up, meeting. Dan’s eyes bore into Phil’s for a moment before he averted his gaze downward with an awkward cough.

“Thanks, Philly.” Dan smiled up at Phil through his eyelashes. The expression, the nickname that so naturally rolled off his tongue, the fleeting touch, had Phil convinced that his heart skipped a beat. Or five.

As Dan turned his attention down to his muffin, he inspected the white icing delicately drizzled across the top, looking a little awed at the perfect presentation. “It looks so pretty,” he murmured, reaching for his phone and taking it out of his pocket. Carefully, he angled it toward the muffin. His right hand moved to hold the treat in front of the camera the red of the muffin looking perfectly Valentinesy against Dan’s pink and black sweater. It was then that Phil finally noticed — was Dan left handed?

The massive iphone balanced in Dan’s left hand didn’t look nearly as precarious as it would have if Phil was holding it with his left hand — or right, for that matter really — and, if anything, Dan’s right hand looked much more unsure as it held the sugary treat, even though it was only a muffin.

Phil stored that information away, even though it objectively wasn’t very exciting. He liked learning new things about Dan, and he would take any information he could get, trivial or not. After all, unless Dan broke up with Isabella and… something more happened between Dan and Phil, it might be all Phil would ever get.

After snapping a few pictures, Dan placed the muffin back down onto the plate, instantly becoming engrossed with his phone for a few minutes. Unsure what to do with himself, Phil went about cleaning up the front counter a little, shifting things around, and making sure everything looked nice and neat. There wasn’t much to clean up, but it was enough to keep Phil looking busy, and close to Dan.

Seconds before Dan set his phone on the counter, Phil’s phone let off a loud ding from his back pocket. Phil had a feeling he knew what Dan had been doing on his phone, especially judging by the expectant smirk Dan was staring at him with. Phil couldn’t tell if Dan’s amused, cocky look was because whatever Dan had just done had something to do with Phil, or if Dan was just smug about the fact that Phil obviously still had him on notifications.

Shaking his head slightly, Phil pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Just as he’d expected, there was a twitter notification that @danielhowell had tweeted — tweeted a picture that he’d posted on instagram, actually. Phil, however, hadn’t expected the preview to include his handle. Swiping on the notification, Phil opened the app so he could see the full tweet.

@danielhowell: guys look @AmazingPhil got me the tastiest looking muffin of all time. don’t tell my mum but i think i’m having dessert in the middle of the day [picture]

Attached was one of the pictures that Dan had just taken, the muffin slightly more in focus than the rest of the surroundings, the pink of Dan’s sleeve barely in focus enough for Phil to make out the pixelated hearts. Briefly, Phil wondered if people would see the outline of the dark red torso beyond Dan’s arm and speculate that it was Phil. Even more fleetingly, Phil wondered if he cared.

Tapping like on the tweet, Phil decided to wait to respond until later. He clicked the lock button, and pocketed his phone, grinning up at Dan. With the exception of a small nod of his head, Dan gave no acknowledgment to the tweet he must have known that Phil had just seen.

In lieu of saying anything else, Dan finally reached out and broke off a piece of the top of the muffin, a part with icing drizzled across it. Still stuck on Dan’s tweet, Phil barely registered Dan popping the bite into his mouth.

“Oh my god,” Dan mumbled through his mouthful, letting out a pornographic moan — a noise that went straight to Phil’s cock, causing it to stir a little in interest. Embarassed by how easily Dan could rile him up, Phil shuffled closer to the bar, making sure his waist was completely out of sight just in case.

“That’s fucking amazing,” Dan continued when he’d swallowed his bite, his eyes fluttering closed appreciatively.

“Is it?” Phil asked, trying to force his voice to stay even and not reflect the sudden arousal that Dan’s noises had sparked. “I didn’t get a chance to try one.”

“You didn’t?” Dan sounded scandalized. He promptly broke another bite off the muffin, a piece from the top that was generously drizzled with icing. With a mischievous look in his eyes, and a small smirk pulling at his lips, Dan offered the piece to Phil. Smiling, Phil muttered a quick thanks, and went to reach for the muffin.

At the last minute, Dan’s hand swerved away, pulling back so that Phil couldn’t reach the treat without practically crawling across the bar. Surprised, Phil blinked rapidly, before catching on to Dan’s teasing expression.

“Daaaaan!” Phil whined, trying to bite back his own grin “That wasn’t very nice!” Phil crossed his arms and stuck out his bottom lip petulantly.

“Oh dear…” Dan teased, waving the bit of muffin around and causing Phil’s pout to deepen. “Oh dear, does someone want some muffin?”

Phil chomped at the air. “Gimmeee. I wanna taste it.” Phil tried to glare at Dan, settling his lips back into a pout, but it was difficult to maintain his composure. He was on the verge of cracking, of letting a beaming smile take over.

Dan hummed, eyes dancing with mirth, and moved the bite back towards Phil. Phil had no faith that Dan was actually going to let Phil take the muffin, so he held his pout, expecting Dan to pull away tauntingly again.

Phil was right in assuming that Dan wasn’t done playing with him yet, but was so very, very wrong in what he’d guessed Dan would do.

“Come on then, have some,” Dan said, slowly moving his hand from in between them, and up towards Phil’s mouth. Phil’s eyes flickered from the muffin to Dan’s face, just to find Dan staring back at him impishly. Slightly intimidated by the playful look on Dan’s face, Phil dropped his gaze back down to the muffin, which Dan was still holding in front of Phil’s mouth. Phil’s eyes narrowed, not sure how far Dan was expecting him to take this.

Coquettishly, Dan closed the distance between them, and pressed the bit of muffin against Phil’s mouth. It felt soft against Phil’s lower lip, which was still stuck out — a stark contrast to the calloused pads of Dan’s fingers that were grazing Phil’s mouth. His stomach a ball of nerves, Phil found the courage to look up at Dan, and found that his eyes were flickering between Phil’s lips and his eyes.

The look in Dan’s eyes, the feeling of his fingers against Phil’s lips… it was all intoxicating. Phil could feel the tension between them, tugging at him, urging him to do something.

Slowly, Phil parted his lips, and let Dan push the muffin into his mouth. His fingers went with it, pushing past Phil’s lips far more than strictly necessary. Phil was mesmerized, watching how Dan moved, how his eyes fixated on Phil’s mouth, how his fingers looked as they slipped inside. Phil’s stomach clenched — this time not with nerves.

Two can play that game, he thought.

With what he hoped was a seductive look, Phil closed his mouth, wrapping his lips securely around Dan’s fingers. He sucked, just a little, as if he were trying to get the frosting off of Dan’s fingers, but didn’t bite down right away to take the muffin between his teeth. As Phil stared at Dan, he could have sworn he heard Dan make a strangled noise, his eyes flashing up to meet Phil’s. Their gazes locked, and a charged look passed between them.

Dan was right, the muffin was good — although, to be honest, Phil was much more focused on having a part of Dan in his mouth. Phil’s mind couldn’t help leaping to other reasons he might have some part of Dan in his mouth, and he had to hold back his own pornographic moan. Unlike Dan, it had nothing to do with the flavor. Judging by the pleased smirk on Dan’s face, Phil knew he’d heard, but it was impossible to tell if Dan realized just why Phil was moaning.

Dan pulled his fingers out of Phil’s mouth, and reached back down to break another bite off the muffin without wiping his fingers off first. Carefully, he popped the bite into his own mouth, never once letting his gaze fall from Phil’s. Seductively, he drew his fingers into his mouth, his tongue deliberately licking the remaining frosting off of each digit. Phil’s eyes hungrily followed his movements.

Dan’s pupils were wide. There was a knowing glint in his eyes. The bastard was fully aware of what he was doing.

Phil ripped his gaze away from Dan, away from his eyes, his fingers, his mouth, unable to continue looking at Dan without giving into the temptation to do… something. His heart was racing, and it wasn’t from the sudden intake of sugar, that was for sure.

“So, uh,” Phil said, glancing around them, scrambling for something to say. His gaze fell on the bag Dan had set on the counter, and he pounced on it. “Did you really leave your shopping until today?” he ended up blurting out.

Phil had no idea what possessed him to ask that. It’s not like he really wanted to hear about whatever was in the bag — or anything else to do with Isabella for that matter. Especially not after that little display of flirtation.

Dan didn’t seem particularly inclined to talk about the bag either. His cheeks heated up, flushing red. “Er, yeah. I guess so. I haven’t had a ton of time recently, and it just kind of… didn’t happen,” he said with an awkward shrug.

“Hmm,” Phil muttered, trying to mask his skepticism. Dan was claiming that he hadn’t had much free time, time where he could have gone shopping for Isabella, but lately he’d been spending hours at Beans and Grind, usually just chatting, only sometimes working. Phil had a hard time believing that Dan couldn’t have found some time to take a ten minute tube ride to high street and buy something.

His suspicions must have shown on his face because Dan gave another small shrug of his shoulders and added on, “I guess I didn’t really care that much, either. I could have made time if I tried. Fuck knows I did for other stuff.”

Phil wondered if Dan was thinking about all the time he’d spent at Beans and Grind, too.

Still, even though Phil hated that Dan was with Isabella, was even secretly rooting for him to finally dump her, Dan’s apathetic attitude towards his relationship left a bitter taste in Phil’s mouth. Was Dan always this careless with his partners?

Dan was such a good friend, always seemed so genuinely interested in Phil’s life. From what Phil heard about Louise and Adaline, Dan was equally invested in those relationships. And Phil had seen Dan with Darcy — he clearly looked at that little girl like she was the most important thing on the planet.

So was Dan’s neglectful attitude specific to Isabella, or was he this way with all of his romantic partners?

“Jesus, Dan, are you always this much of a prick when you date someone?” The words were out of Phil’s mouth before he could stop himself.

From the stricken look on Dan’s face, Phil knew he’d fucked up. Dan’s eyes were blown wide, filled with alarm, and his posture had gone rigid. Phil half expected Dan to stand up and walk out without saying anything else.

He didn’t though.

Instead, something in Dan seemed to snap, his shoulders slumping inwards, head hanging in defeat, completely silent.

Phil felt awful.

He stared at Dan, hoping he would look back up, but his attention was focused resolutely on his lap. As the seconds wore on, Dan seemed less and less inclined to willingly look at Phil.

Why had Phil thought that was an acceptable thing to say? Dan never talked about his romantic life, he rarely even mentioned Isabella’s name. And yet, Phil had essentially accused him of being a shit boyfriend.

Not sure how to fix it, Phil set about making a coffee — a triple espresso with one sugar. The entire time Phil was making it, Dan didn’t say anything, didn’t even look up. When the coffee was done, Phil dropped a single ice cube into it — a habit he’d started after Dan burnt his tongue for the third time — and slid it across the counter.

“I’m sorry, I guess I can be a right arse, too,” Phil apologized.

Dan looked first at the coffee, then bashfully up at Phil. “Thanks.” He took a sip — a sip that didn’t scorch his tongue — and smiled softly. “I’m not usually though, I swear. A giant prick, I mean.”

“I’m sure you’re not, I don’t know why I said that,” Phil said softly.

Dan shrugged. “Because I’m being a prick. To Isabella, at the very least.”

Phil wasn’t sure why Dan tacked the at the very least on to the end of his sentence, but he figured now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. Instead, he did his best to make up for his own mistake. “I still shouldn’t have said it. Your relationship with Isabella isn’t any of my business.”

For some reason, Dan opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, looking rather like a fish. After snapping his mouth shut a fourth time, Dan kept it shut, apparently giving up on whatever he was going to say. Phil’s brow furrowed, unable to fathom what Dan might have wanted to say, but unable to make himself ask. After all, it really was none of his business… right?

Silence filled the coffee shop then, while Dan sipped on his coffee and Phil busied himself with wiping down the espresso machine, even though it wasn’t particularly messy. It wasn’t the tense, uncomfortable silence from a few minutes ago, though; it was calmer, more pensive. It was the kind of silence Phil enjoyed, especially when he got to share it with Dan.

This time, Dan was the one to eventually break it.

“So I know you said you don’t have any hot plans today, but are you doing anything to celebrate this joyous day of love?” The last bit of Dan’s question came out slightly sarcastically.

Aren’t people in relationships supposed to enjoy the whole celebration-of-love thing?

“What’s there to celebrate?” Phil scoffed, abandoning his attempts at cleaning. “I’ve been incredibly single for, like, six months.”

Dan perked up at that, sitting up straighter and setting his coffee down. “Oh? What happened? To whoever you were dating?”

“We broke up when I started thinking seriously about moving to London.” Phil explained with a a shrug. He didn’t particularly want to talk about it — it was more of a long-lasting fling than anything, really. That relationship definitely wasn’t the impression Phil wanted to leave Dan with.

“So what now?” Dan asked, resting on his elbows, leaning in closer towards Phil. “No prospects since, then?”

Phil wasn’t sure what Dan was playing at. It’s not like Phil was going to give the honest answer to that question — that yes, there very much was someone he was interested in, it just happened to be a very unavailable famous singer. An honest answer that Phil had a sneaking suspicion that Dan knew, if the shameless flirting was anything to go by.

Floundering, Phil grasped desperately for an excuse, anything he could say that wasn’t it’s because of you. “Well,” Phil chuckled awkwardly, “it’s not like I was going to join grindr, right? I didn’t want to end up on a date with a crazy fan.”

There, that wasn’t a complete lie.

A knowing smirk crossed Dan’s face, but Phil wasn’t sure if it was because Dan knew about the troubles of joining dating sites while being famous, or if it was because Phil had very definitively just confirmed that he dated guys.

Whatever it was seemed to make Dan happy.

“That’s a good choice. Grindr is sketchy enough when you’re not famous.”

Phil was worried that Dan would keep pushing, that he would ask if Phil had met anyone in real life, if he was interested in anyone, if he’d been on any dates since he moved to London.

Phil really wasn’t prepared to answer any of those questions.

But Dan didn’t. He turned the conversation from Phil’s love life to a tv show that Phil had recommended to him a few weeks ago, and from there, their conversation spiraled.

Dan stayed longer than Phil thought he would — almost two and a half hours. Phil had assumed that since Dan had a date that night, he wouldn’t hang out like he normally did. But Dan stayed long enough to drink his entire first coffee — which Phili had put in a to-go cup, just in case Dan was too mad at him to stick around — eat the whole muffin, and drink a second coffee.

As the afternoon wore on, Dan’s flirting only became more flagrant.

Dan insisted on splitting his muffin, swearing that since he’d had pancakes for breakfast, he would probably die of a sugar rush if he ate the whole thing alone. Every single bite that Dan shared with Phil — which had to be nearly half of the giant muffin — Dan fed directly to Phil, fingers brushing Phil’s lips every time, eyes intensely bearing into Phil’s. The novelty of Dan’s fingers against Phil’s lips didn’t fade. In fact, Phil was convinced that the sparks he felt when Dan was touching him, was touching his lips, wouldn’t ever go away.

Phil couldn’t help but wonder how big those sparks would feel if something, anything other than Dan’s fingertips, were against his lips.

When the muffin was gone and Dan’s second drink was empty, he dropped a crumpled tenner on the counter, much to Phil’s annoyance.

Phil tried to shove the money back at Dan. “No, the muffin was a promise from last night and the coffee was an apology for being an ass. Keep your money.”

“And the second coffee?” Dan said, sounding confident that he’d won.

A Valentine’s Day gift, Phil wanted to say.

“A reward for sharing the muffin,” Phil said instead.

Dan flicked the balled up money back at Phil. “Nope, you don’t get to buy me things. Not like this, anyway.”

Before Phil could make sense of what Dan had said, Dan leaned all the way across the counter and pressed a dramatic kiss to the middle of Phil’s forehead.

A shock ran down Phil’s spine, reaching all the way into his toes when Dan’s lips pressed against his face.

What in the —

Had Dan really just done that? Had he really just kissed Phil’s forehead?

“Have a good rest of your Valentine’s Day, Philly, this sad cupid has to go now.” Dan rocked back on his heels, pulling his coat back on, and sending Phil a cocky grin.

“Cute cupid,” Phil corrected without thinking.

Dan’s arrogant smile turned bashful, his dimple prominent on his face. “Are you working tomorrow?” he asked with a hint of hesitation.

Phil blinked. “On youtube stuff, but not here.”

“Fancy a drink when we’re both done working then?”

Phil’s eyes opened so wide that he was almost concerned they were going to fall right out of his head. “I, um, good.”

Well, that was eloquent.

“Good,” Dan’s smile widened, somehow, and Phil noticed that he had a second, smaller dimple on his other cheek. “DM me on twitter when you’re done working and we’ll figure something out.”

Before Phil could muster up the courage to stop Dan, to just ask him for his bloody phone number already, Dan shot Phil a two fingered salute, turned around, and fled the shop.

Sighing, Phil resigned himself to being stuck talking to Dan through twitter for the rest of his life, because clearly, he was too much of a coward to get his fucking number.

Dan was only gone for five minutes before the painstaking boredom of working at a tiny coffee shop in the middle of the day on Valentine’s Day sunk in. Glancing at the door to make sure he was well and truly alone, Phil pulled his phone back out. When he unlocked it, Phil was greeted by Dan’s muffin tweet, which he’d never exited out of. Curious what people were saying, Phil swiped down to refresh the replies.

@sillyphilly123: WHY ARE @danielhowll AND @AmazingPhil TOGETHER ON VALENTINES DAY

@danielmylove: I love buying my bro Valentine’s Day bro-muffins @AmazingPhil @danielhowell

As Phil skimmed, he realized that there were many, many more tweets like those. Tweets focusing on the fact that him and Dan were spending at least some of Valentine’s Day together. As uneasy as Phil normally felt when his viewers pried too closely in his personal life, he couldn’t help scrolling through their replies, imagining what life might be like if the implications of their tweets were true.

There were some tweets that tried to refute those implications, though — particularly from a group of people with some variation of danella as their twitter handle, which Phil was pretty sure was Dan and Isabella’s ship name.

@danellaforever: everyone calm the fuck down i’m sure @AmazingPhil and @danielhowll are just doing something for work

@ishipdanella: guys @IsabellaDeLaRenta tweeted about coming back to London just to spend the day with @danielhowell, @AmazingPhil is just a friend.

@danismyboyfriend: WTF are you guys on about? Dan’s not gay. He’s dated a bunch of girls -.-

As much as Phil wanted the first tweets to be the ones that were true, it was the second camp, the danella shippers, that were probably more accurate.

And then there was another tweet that made Phil chuckle — it was the only reply that Dan had responded to.

@AdalineHowell: @danielhowell too late bro mum already saw your tweet

@danielhowell: @AdalineHowell oh great now i’m going to get a lecture about health and eating more grapefruit

Phil was about to close out of twitter all together, bored and planning on looking through the comments of his most recent video, when a notification dropped down from the top of his screen.

Dan had tweeted, and from the looks of it, he’d tagged Phil in his tweet. Again.

It was a poll attached to a picture of Dan, leaning against a wall with one foot casually crossed in front of the other. He’d taken the picture in front of a big, ornate mirror that showed off Dan’s full outfit, both the soft pink sweater and the edgy ripped jeans.

@danielhowell: me and @AmazingPhil are having a bit of a tiff. i think i look like a sad cupid but he says i look like a cute cupid. who’s right?

           dan?            phil?

Phil clicked on his name immediately, and was pleased to see his opinion — that Dan looked undeniably cute in his pink sweater and ripped jeans — was overwhelmingly winning. It was early yet, but only about eight percent of the votes agreed with Dan.

Grinning, and determined to make the percentage of people that thought Dan looked sad even smaller, Phil retweeted Dan’s tweet, adding:

@AmazingPhil: Everyone should go vote and tell @danielhowell that he does in fact look like a cute Valentine’s Day cupid in his new sweater.

When Dan got home, he realized he only had about an hour before he had to leave for Isabella’s. She’d made him promise to be at her flat by half past five. Apparently they had reservations at seven and she wanted to have time to have a drink and exchange gifts before they left for dinner. Dan knew he should pick up flowers on his way there, something he probably should have done earlier today before the shops ran low of selections, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret how he’d spent his day.

Brunch with Louise had been wonderful. It was a relief to talk about his problems with Isabella — and finally confess his feelings for Phil. He’d always valued Louise’s opinion, a fact that made his belated realization about his relationship with Izzy sting all the more.

His afternoon at the coffee shop had been exactly what he wanted, too. Dan knew he’d always been a little flirty with Phil. In hindsight, he probably should have waited until he’d officially ended things with Isabella to consciously flirt, to make an active decision to intensify his flirting.

Not to mention that he’d just committed to taking a bit of time to himself before he properly made a move on Phil.

But Dan had been riding the high of commiting to breaking up with Isabella, of committing to eventually doing something about his feelings for Phil, that he hadn’t had the willpower to hold himself back. He hadn’t done anything that technically counted as cheating, although kissing Phil’s forehead might have been a bit much in hindsight.

He was just an affectionate person, though, and he was used to showing his affection through physical touch. Him and Louise kissed each other’s cheeks all the time (not that Isabella was particularly happy about that habit). It wasn’t like he’d lingered when he kissed Phil’s forehead —he’d wanted too, but he hadn’t. In fact, he’d been rather dramatic and over the top about the whole thing, which Dan hoped took some of the too-flirtatious edge off.

Dan messed around on twitter and instagram for a while before actually bothering to get ready. Unwilling to change out of the comfortable sweater right away, he snapped a picture of his Valentine’s Day themed outfit and set up a poll on twitter, because apparently tweeting about Phil once today wasn’t enough. He was mostly kidding when he said he thought he looked like a sad cupid; truth be told, he’d probably wear the sweater again, and not just for a special occasion. Dan couldn’t help giggling when he saw Phil retweet his poll almost immediately, urging everyone to vote for his opinion. He gave himself another few minutes of staring at the poll wrack up votes, before he finally gave in to getting ready.

With a small sigh, Dan dropped his phone on his bed and made his way to his closet, rifling through his options. Even though he couldn’t remember the exact restaurant they were going to, Dan knew he undoubtedly needed to wear a suit. He looked at the suits he owned — the black and white stripe jacket, the one with the leather lapels, the fitted white pants. As much as he liked — preferred even — those more interesting pieces, he knew Isabella would kill him if he showed up in anything other than his plain black suit with a crisp white shirt.

In the one act of rebellion that Dan felt comfortable taking, Dan pulled on a black bowtie. He knew Isabella hated when he wore bowties. She always argued that they were too pretentious, and besides, she loved running his tie between her fingers, liked tugging on it like a leash when they were in private. Tonight, Dan was determined not to give her that satisfaction, that power.

When Dan was fully dressed, he pocketed his phone and his wallet, and pulled on his nice black peacoat. He was halfway out the door before he remembered Isabella’s present. He doubled back and tucked the small rectangular box into the inside pocket of his coat with a deep sigh of regret. He wished he could just break up with her today.

It was a little early to be leaving, but Dan figured he could use the extra time by walking instead of taking an uber. Plus, he really should buy some flowers on his way there. It was the right thing to do.

On his way to the flower shop, Dan pulled out his phone, curious how his twitter poll was doing. Not that he was surprised, but Phil was winning. He was, however, caught off guard by just how dramatically Phil was winning. A whopping three percent agreed with Dan.

Chuckling, Dan typed another tweet about the poll, debating for a split second about whether or not he should tag Phil.

@danielhowell: you’re all traitors and i’m pretty sure @AmazingPhil cheated by telling everyone to vote for his opinion.

Rather than going straight into the flower shop, Dan stopped right outside of it and read the replies to his tweet as they trickled in. He knew that once he put his phone away, he probably wouldn’t be able to check twitter again until he got home that night, and he really wanted to bask in this one moment of open affection with his fans (and Phil) before he had to put on a fake smile for Isabella. He liked a few of the more clever, funny tweets that made him laugh, and dithered a little bit longer, hoping that if he waited long enough, he’d see a response from Phil.

By the time Dan realized Phil likely wasn’t going to tweet back anytime soon, more time had past then Dan has anticipated, and he sighed as he realized he really needed to get going. Ducking into the shop, Dan dithered around looking for something suitable enough for Isabella.

Just as he’d expected, the shop was running low on options. There were no roses left — those must have all gone to the people who’d bothered to shop for flowers before five in the evening. Dan was shit out of luck on that, knowing they were what Isabella would be expecting. In lieu of anything nicer, Dan ended up buying carnations, which he knew Isabella would hate, but again, Dan couldn’t bring himself to care. This whole thing would be over tomorrow morning, so did it really matter what kind of flowers he showed up with tonight?

As Dan paid, he glanced at his watch, and realized he barely had ten minutes to walk the twenty minute trek to Isabella’s. He knew he could call an uber and be on time — maybe even early — but he felt like he needed to work off some of his restless energy.

So he walked.

Besides. The last thing he really wanted was to get to Isabella’s any sooner than necessary.

In his defense, he did do his best to speed walk, and he did manage to knock on Isabella’s door a mere five minutes late. Anyone besides Isabella probably wouldn’t have cared about the five minutes — or at the very least, would be accustomed enough to Dan’s perpetual tardiness that they weren’t offended when he was a few minutes late. But this wasn’t anyone else.

This was Isabella.

“You’re late,” Isabella snapped as she opened the door. “I told you to be here at 5:30 sharp.”

What a stellar start to the evening.

“Sorry, the uber was late,” Dan lied, and stepped around Isabella, who was still standing in the center of the doorway.

Without waiting for an invitation, Dan brushed past her, and went directly to the lounge. A vase, already filled with water, sat in the middle of the coffee table, clearly sitting out waiting for the flowers Isabella had expected him to bring. Dan unwrapped the flowers and dropped them carelessly into the vase. He didn’t bother arranging them to look nice — whatever he did wouldn’t be good enough, and Isabella would surely rearrange them anyway.

Dan was in the process of shrugging out of his coat and draping it over the armchair when he heard the clack clack clack of Isabella’s shoes finally following him into the lounge. Dan prepared himself for her to kiss the back of his neck— or maybe even do something more erotic, as she tended to do sometimes — but it didn’t come. He twisted around to see that Isabella was frozen halfway across the room, eyes fixated on the vase.

“Carnations.” Her voice was dripping with distaste.

“It was all they had.” Dan defended weakly.

“What? You didn’t order flowers ahead of time?” Isabella snapped. “What did you do, pick them up on your way here?”

“Er, yes?” Dan admitted, ruffling his hair nervously.

Isabella sighed dramatically, mumbling something in Spanish underneath her breath. When she looked at Dan again, she spoke up. “You could have at least gotten red. It’s more sophisticated.”

“I liked the pink…” Dan mumbled. The pink flowers were softer, more delicate looking than the red ones, Dan thought. The red carnations had felt too aggressive, too impassioned, and he definitely didn’t need Isabella thinking he was feeling passionate at a time like this.

“I see that. Is it your new favorite color now?” Isabella spat hatefully.

“What do you mean?” Dan ask, confused. They were just flowers.

“I saw those pictures you posted.”

Dan froze. Obviously Isabella had seen the pictures. He should have known she would. Not that it would have changed his actions, but he would have been better prepared for this conversation.

Isabella waved her phone at Dan, as if he was stupid and would otherwise have no idea what she was talking about. “The ones of you in the pink sweater. You never wear colors when I ask you to.” She sounded bitter.

When it came down to it, though, what the fuck did it matter if he ventured into the color part of the rainbow? Was that really what she was mad about?

“It’s just a holiday sweater, Izzy,” Dan said, resigned. He didn’t understand why she was angry about the sweater, and he didn’t particularly care to find out. Tonight was going to be hard enough to get through without having to suffer a fight, too.

“A cute holiday sweater.” She sounded downright venomous.

The emphasis on cute wasn’t lost on Dan.

“Louise got it for me—” he started, trying to derail the fight.

“And that tarado—” Isabella continued, as if Dan hadn’t spoken at all, “—from the coffee place thinks you look cute in it.” If Dan thought she sounded angry before, it was nothing compared to how livid she was when she brought up Phil.

Dan could suffer through whatever accusations Isabella wanted to hurl at him, whatever insults she decided to jab him with. But hearing her talk about Phil like that…

Phil, the one who had only ever tried to bolster Dan’s spirits, who always seemed to be trying to make Dan laugh, who constantly gave Dan one hundred percent of his attention...

“He only said that after I specifically asked him if it looked terrible,” Dan protested, willing to fall on that knife for Phil.

“If you wanted an opinion on how it looked, you should have texted me, your girlfriend. I’m a model. It’s literally my job to know about fashion.” For one tiny second, Dan thought, hoped,that Isabella had gotten distracted from the topic of Phil.

But that would be asking for far too much. Once Isabella sunk her claws into something, there were sure to be no survivors.

“Besides,” Isabella continued contemptuously, “he didn’t need to tell all of twitter that he thinks you look cute in that horrendous sweater.”

“I like the sweater!” Dan objected heatedly. Sure, when he’d opened the bag and seen pink, he had been wary, but as the day wore on, he had found himself growing rather fond of it.

“It’s hideous and cheap looking. Why are the hearts all blocky on it? Could they not afford to make it look nice?”

“It’s Moschino! It’s supposed to be quote, unquote blocky. That’s the style.” Dan couldn’t be bothered to try to explain that the hearts were pixelated, that it was a thing, and really, the fact that Louise had bought him this particular sweater was a sign of just how well she knew him. Unlike Isabella.

“I don’t understand why you like Moschino. It’s all so tacky. Besides, it looks like she got it from the women’s section.” Isabella sent Dan an appalled look as she moved to the full length mirror, leaning in close to check her face in the reflection.

“Does it matter if she did?” Dan challenged. “It’s just a fucking sweater. Colors aren’t gendered, and there’s no reason for sweaters to be either.”

“Danny, everyone knows that pink is a girly color. If you start running around in girls’ clothes, everyone’s going to realize that—” Isabella’s voice dropped down to a sneering whisper, and she looked back over his shoulder to send hima reproachful look, “ — you’re gay.”

Dan tugged at his hair, frustrated. He was probably wrecking the carefully arranged mop of curls and would regret it later when he inevitably had to take a picture, but at this moment in time, he didn’t give a shit.

They’d been through this already. When Dan had initially come out to Isabella, she’d been flippant, almost disbelieving that being attracted to more than one gender was even possible. Dan had tried his best to be tolerant, to help her understand — after all, Dan had had to explain the concept of bisexuality to a lot of people over the years. Until Isabella, he’d actually been incredibly fortunate — everyone seemed to accept Dan with open arms once he explained. But Isabella had wavered for days between questioning if Dan was even capable of being attracted to her since he liked men, and invalidating his attraction to men because he was able to get it up for her.

Overtime, Isabella did accept that he liked boys too, but rather than strengthening their relationship like Dan had hoped it would, it had weakened it. Isabella grew insecure, and was constantly jealous of anyone — especially men — new in Dan’s life.

It was like she was afraid that Dan was going to run off to fuck a guy just because they could offer him something that she couldn’t.

“Jesus fucking christ, not this again, Isabella. How many fucking times do I have to tell you that I’m not gay, I’m bisexual.”

Dan had no idea why he was trying to educate her about the fucking label. He knew good and well that wasn’t the issue here. He just didn’t know how else to have this conversation without pissing her off even more.

“Does it matter? Either way, before you met me you were fucking some guy.” Dan knew Isabella hated that he’d dated guys in the past, but now she sounded absolutely disgusted, which was new. “You probably weren’t even the one doing the fucking, were you?”

Stunned, Dan could do nothing but stare at Isabella in surprise. Up until this moment, Dan had never realized just how repulsed Isabella was by the fact that he’d slept with men.

How had they survived all this time if she was nauseated at the idea of him getting fucked by — or fucking — a guy?

“What does that have to do with anything?” Dan was livid, his voice raising until he was on the verge of shouting. He was unable to fully control his temper anymore. His hands were violently shaking, his vision practically blurring with rage. “Literally why do you give a fuck about what happens when I sleep with guys?”

“Sleep with, or slept with.” It didn’t come out as a question. It was a statement, a statement dripping with poison. Isabella stalked over to him, looking poised to smack him if he responded incorrectly. The fact that she was accusing Dan of cheating shouldn’t have come as a surprise, and yet it did. He’d thought she trusted him more than that, but clearly, the jealousy of Dan’s interest in men ran deep.

Dan held his hands up in surrender. “Slept. I said sleep in, like, a general sense. I didn’t mean that I’m sleeping with guys, like, actively.”

“You better fucking not be.” Isabella’s hand relaxed a bit, looking at least somewhat appeased by the fact that regardless of whatever Dan had done in the past, he was denying doing it now. “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with that cabrón, so I wouldn’t be that surprised.”

Well, maybe she wasn’t so pacified after all.

“Stop calling him fucking names, Izzy.” Dan took a step back, physically unable to be so close to her right now. He felt sickened by her presence, by the hints of homophobia that were leaking into her accusations and insults. He took a steadying breath, trying to decide if that was a hill that he was ready to fight and die upon.

It wasn’t.

When he broke up with her, he didn’t want this to be the reason. He didn’t want her to walk away thinking that the only issue here was that he liked guys, too.

“How many times do I have to say that I’m only seeing you, that I’m not okay with cheating?”

Isabella took the bait, her attention successfully diverted from Phil. “You can’t blame me for needing reassurance when you’re getting so close to putas on twitter.”

Isabella being distracted from Phil didn’t make Dan feel any better, though, not when she was accusing him of cheating to avoid taking on any of her own blame.

He felt like he was on fire, his blood was boiling, and he was sure his face and chest were flushed red in fury.

“Oh, we’re back to this fight, are we?” Dan waved his hands around wildly. Sure, this fight was better than the biphobic, homophobic, whatever shit she’d been spouting earlier, but it was still something they’d already been through a dozen times. A fight that he thought they had both agreed to put the fuck behind them. “Do I need to remind you of that picture you were tagged in just two weeks ago? Where you were hanging all over those guys?”

So maybe Dan wasn’t a saint. If Isabella was going to hurl nasty things at him, he was going to take a few shots back.

“I told you, I was just with them for publicity.” Isabella sounded exasperated, as if she thought she was standing on some moral high ground because the people she had been caught flirting with were “professionals.”

“I don’t care why you were with them. It still fucking hu-hurt to see you all over two fit models.” Dan’s voice cracked, and he forced himself to pause for a second, collecting himself. Maybe he wasn’t as over this particular wound as he’d thought he was. “You don’t get to police who I’m talking to on twitter when you talk non-stop to fit models and post risque photos with them on your instagram!”

“I post those pictures for the media, for my fans.” She was properly shouting now, pacing back and forth in front of Dan. She was walking with such heavy force that Dan felt like the clacking of her heels was reverberating off the walls. “You talk to Phil, post pictures with him, for what? As part of some sick game? Weird foreplay for whatever it is that you’re doing with him if it’s not sex?”

And here they were again.

If Dan wasn’t fucking fuming, he would have cowered, would have stepped back, would have let her win. But he was positively seething with anger and he wasn’t about to back down.

“It’s not anything, Isabella!” Dan knew that wasn’t quite true — things with Phil didn’t feel platonic. But he would never dream of actually doing anything that Isabella was implying, not while they were still together. “Fucking hell, we both agreed to let this go, to be adults and accept that we both fucked up.”

In the heat of the moment, Dan was so close to saying fuck it. To give up on waiting until tomorrow. To shout how fucking over this relationship and the way she treated him he was.

He came really fucking close.

He didn’t shout this time. He made sure to keep his voice low, steady. He wanted Isabella to know he was fucking serious. “If you don’t trust me, what the fuck are we doing here?”

Isabella stuttered to a halt, jerking around to face him. When she spoke, her voice dropped too, reducing from the shrill scream to her normal grating voice. “What do you mean, Danny?”

Dan took a steadying breath. He’d come this far, he might as well say something. Anything. He might as well try to articulate some of his problems in this relationship — some of the problems that weren’t Phil or the fact that his girlfriend was apparently homophobic.

“I mean, trust is the most important part of a relationship. And these past few months, it’s been pretty fucking clear that you don’t trust me as far as you can throw me.”

“That’s not tr—” Isabella started, but Dan was on a roll. He wasn’t about to let her interrupt him now.

“And I’ve been dealing with that. I’ve been trying to show you I’m trustworthy, I’m always reassuring you that I’m not sleeping with anyone else. Male or female! But that’s not good enough for you, is it? And what am I getting out of this?”

“You’re —” Isabella tried to interject again, but Dan steamrolled over her.

“I’m getting a shitty relationship where I thought my girlfriend loved me, but as it turns out, she’s more interested in my career and money than she is me!”

“That’s not true!” Isabella screamed at the top of her lungs. A look of panic was etched across her face.

This time, Dan was taken aback. His rhythm broke some, but he continued. “Tell me how it is, then, Izzy. Because that’s a hell of a lot of what it looks like from over here.”

Dan expected Isabella to fight back. To make up excuses. He expected her to kick and scream and lash out. Not to freeze up, go quiet, crumple shamefully to the couch. The reaction left Dan a little stunned, confused. He didn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m sorry, Danny.” Isabella looked up at him with big doe eyes, her voice far too sweet to be genuine. She reached up and brushed a nonexistent tear from her cheek. “I said horrible things. Of course I trust you. Of course I love you for so much more than just your money and your fame.”

Dan stared down at her, reeling from the whiplash of Isabella’s sudden mood swing. “Do you? Do you really?” he demanded, because he knew Isabella, and by this point, he knew this relationship. He was damn sure that she was lying through her teeth.

Dan wasn’t sure which he was questioning her about: trust or love.

“Of course, querido.”

It didn't matter. He didn’t believe her about either one.

But now that the heat of the moment had passed, Dan knew that this wasn’t the time. It was Valentine’s Day, and he’d done his own fair share of fucking up in this relationship lately. It wasn’t fair for him to use her behavior, her accusations, her insults as an excuse for breaking up with her today.

It could wait until tomorrow.

“Let’s just have a drink and move on with the night, okay?” Dan said, sighing, drained from the fight.

“I’d love that.” Isabella said, her voice dripping with fake sincerity as she pulled her face into something resembling a smile, an expression that looked so utterly wrong in light of everything. The happiness didn’t reach her eyes, which still held hints of anger that she was forcing down.

“I got you a present, Danny.” Her voice was sweet, too sweet.

It seemed that as soon as she’d realized that Dan was willing to just carry on with the night, to drop the fight entirely, Isabella was keen to be as agreeable as possible, coming across as blatantly insincere, far too saccharine to be genuine. Dan didn’t trust the shift, he didn’t trust Isabella to stay calm.

Isabella reached forward, picking up a small gift bag from the side table that Dan noticed for the first time. “Here you go, querido. I saw this and thought of you.”

Dan cautiously took the present from Isabella’s hands, not sure how to react to a present so soon after such an intense fight.

Isabella was watching him with the same forced smile plastered on her face. Dan offered her a tight grin in return, before looking down at the present, carefully untying the ribbon holding the bag’s handles together. With a sense of dread, Dan pulled the tissue paper out piece by piece until the only thing left in the bag was a small jewelry box.

Apparently, Dan’s dread was justified. Very rarely did cheap, meaningless gifts come in small boxes.

Dan delicately took the box out of the bag, staring at it for a moment without opening it.

“Well go on,” Isabella said cheerfully. Too cheerfully. “Look at what’s inside.”

Dan drew in a deep breath, summoning the courage to open the box. He cracked the box open and saw… cufflinks?

Why the hell would Isabella get him cufflinks? He wore suits so fucking rarely — really only for major press events and when Isabella insisted on going to fancy places.

“Look at them, look at them!” Isabella encouraged, clapping her hands together annoyingly.

Trying to mask his surprise at the gift, Dan picked up one of the cufflinks and inspected it more closely. Not that he really needed to get closer to see what they looked like — they were fucking massive. They were round, nearly three centimeters across, and the shiniest damn gold he’d seen in his whole life.

Gold. He never wore gold. The hoop earring he liked to wear (when he wasn’t around Isabella, or was willing to tolerate her rude comments about it) was silver. So was his watch, all of his belts, and the small necklace he wore sometimes. He literally didn’t own any gold.

Well, he did now.

“Did you see the inscription?”

Dan hadn’t. He’d been too fucking blinded by the brightness of them that he hadn’t looked any closer. Dan turned the cufflink he was holding so he could see the top. DWH.

DWH? Dan tilted his head, trying to figure it out.

“DWH?” Dan asked, hoping his confusion wasn’t too obvious.

“Daniel William Howell! Every man needs a pair of monogrammed cufflinks.”

Dan was speechless. He couldn’t do anything other than blink repeatedly at her. William? Where the fuck did she get William? How the fuck did she not know his middle name after almost a year of dating him? When the entire internet seemed to know it?

Was it worth telling her that she was wrong?

No.

It wasn’t.

It wasn’t like it would make a difference in anything, not at this point.

“Well, put them on! You can wear them tonight,” Isabella urged when Dan only seemed to continue staring at them.

Jesus, nearly the dead last thing Dan wanted to do was wear these obnoxious — and wrong — cufflinks out in public. But the only thing he wanted to do less than that was start fighting with Isabella again, so he carefully took out the plain silver studs he was currently wearing, and slipped them into his breast pocket.

Isabella took the gold cufflinks from his grasp, pulling Dan’s arms towards her. “Let me do that for you, babe,” she murmured, looking up at Dan with what was probably supposed to be an alluring look.

Her fingers were steady and gentle as she delicately threaded the cufflinks through the holes and screwed on the ball fasteners. Dan watched her work in silence, not sure what else to say. When she was done, she gave each of his hands a quick squeeze, lightly kissing his fingertips.

Dan had to fight to hold back a shudder. At this point, he just wanted to get the evening over with so that when he woke up tomorrow, he could get this entire relationship over and done with.

“Thank you.” He smiled tightly, trying to look as grateful as possible. Dan stood up, walking to the chair where he had dropped his coat earlier, and fished out Isabella’s present. “I got you something as well.”

Dan handed Isabella the box, and watched as her face fell. After Adaline’s birthday dinner, Dan knew Isabella was hoping for, maybe even expecting, a square box. A square box with a very important piece of jewelry in it. Instead, she’d gotten a very long, obviously necklace shaped one.

She didn’t say anything though. Instead, Isabella took the box from his hands, and flashed him a close-lipped smile.

Dan watched as she opened it, her movements slow and careful.The moment it was open, Isabella stared blankly at the tacky piece of jewelry, clearly schooling her expression.

She must really be trying to get back on Dan’s good side because she was doing a much better job of keeping her face neutral than Dan probably had.

After a beat of silence, Isabella looked up. “Thank you. It’s so… unique.” Her voice was dripping with false appreciation, but Dan could practically hear the disgust in her tone.

That’s one word for it, Dan thought.

Fucking hideous was another.

Unlike Isabella, Dan wasn’t about to suggest that she wear the gift to dinner. Frankly, he didn’t particularly want to be seen with it. There was no way he’d get through this night without posting a picture of them on his instagram, and he certainly didn’t want the whole world to speculate that he’d bought her such an atrocious necklace. Not that they’d be wrong. But still.

“I’m going to put this in my room, so it’s safe,” Isabella said. “I’d hate for anything to… hurt it out here.”

Dan bite back a scoff. Safe. Sure. He probably didn’t manage to hide his eyeroll, but it was fine. Her back was already to him, and she was clack clack clacking out of the room.

As much as Dan used to love seeing Isabella in heels, loved the way they made her legs and her arse look, Dan would not miss the sound of her stilettos on the hardwood floor. She never took them off unless it was after sex or before she got dressed for the day. At some point in their relationship, the noise had grown jarring, and Dan started associating it with needy whines and a harsh words.

Glancing at his (silver) watch, Dan saw that they still had over half an hour before they needed to leave. He couldn’t remember where they were going, but he did remember Isabella insisting they meet at her flat because it was only a five minute drive from hers.

Not knowing what else to do with their time, Dan went to the kitchen to pour them each a drink. In typical Isabella fashion, she only had vodka, diet tonic, and white wine. Dan basically hated all three of those things, but decided that a vodka diet tonic was probably the lesser of the two evils. Or rather, maybe it had a high enough alcohol content to make up for the bland taste.

Dan had just finished pouring the drinks when he heard Isabella’s heels coming back from her room. He met her in the hallway, handing her one of the drinks.

“Gracias, querido.” Isabella pressed a chaste kiss to Dan’s lips — a kiss that he didn’t return. If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled him by his hand back into the lounge, pushing him lightly onto the sofa.

For a moment, Dan worried that Isabella was going to set her drink down on the table, that she was going to try and straddle his wait, kiss him properly, do anything to distract Dan from their earlier fight. Isabella was prone to using her body to get what she wanted from Dan. But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Dan should have known better. Isabella would never do anything that would risk crumpling her dress or smudging her makeup before they went out, especially not if they were going somewhere where she’d definitely want to post a picture from.

Instead, Isabella sat down on the sofa next to Dan, refusing to touch him. There was at least an inch of space between them, and it didn’t escape Dan’s notice that this was something Isabella did when she wanted to be passive aggressive but perfectly able to deny that she was mad.

The half hour before they called their uber was awkward. Dan had no idea what to say. What was there to talk about when he knew he was about to dump Isabella in less than twenty-four hours?

Luckily, Isabella had no problem carrying the weight of the conversation, even despite her obvious annoyance. While Dan sipped his drink and tried his best to focus on just getting through the night, Isabella chattered on about the shoot she’d just finished in Turks and Caicos, and the job she was leaving for tomorrow. Apparently, she was a lot less excited for her next trip because it was in northern Canada, where it’s positively freezing, Danny. Dan tried to force himself to pay attention as she grumbled about how she shouldn’t even be doing winter shoots anymore, that everyone else had moved on to preparing the ad campaigns for their spring and summer lines.

There was no way he could make himself care, but he tried his best to make himself listen.

When it finally came time to call the uber, Dan had never been so happy to be leaving the house in his entire life. All he could hope for was that the structure of dinner would give them something to focus on, something other than the uncomfortable aftermath of their fight. At least at dinner they could talk about the food and the restaurant and whatever happened to be in front of them.

Still unable to remember where Isabella had told him they were going, Dan offered Isabella his phone to call the uber, and headed off to the loo in an attempt to avoid admitting he’d forgotten their destination. Dan made sure to sign out of twitter before he handed Isabella his phone, not wanting her to read his DM’s with Phil or otherwise interact with his audience, and took his time “going to the restroom.”

By the time he got back, Isabella had, rather unfortunately, tucked Dan’s phone into her purse, making it impossible for Dan to check where they were going. Plus, now he was phoneless.

Great.

Once the uber arrived, Isabella led them both down to the lobby, waiting for Dan to open the door and help her into the car. The car pulled away, driving off to some unknown destination. The two spent the next five minutes in complete, awkward silence; even the uber driver seemed unwilling to speak. Dan wished he had his phone to fiddle with, at least for something to do with his hands.

When they finally pulled up to their destination, the driver pulled directly in between two restaurants. Dan felt his stomach drop in dread. He hated to admit to Isabella when he forgot something she’d told him, because she always ended up making Dan feel like absolute shit for it, and usually insisted on Dan spending even more money on her to make up for it. Sighing, Dan got out of the car first, and held the door open for Isabella. As he shut it for her, he turned with the desperate hope that Isabella had left him behind, and headed towards the correct restaurant — lord knows she’d done it before.

It seemed she really was out to make a better impression tonight, though, because she was hovering just a few steps away from Dan when he turned away from the uber. She looped her hand through Dan’sarm and vaguely gestured ahead. “After you, babe.”

Fuck.

She wanted him to lead? He didn’t know where he was leading them to!

Dan stared at the two restaurants, wracking his brains to see if he recognized either of the names.

He didn’t.

Well, fifty-fifty shot, he supposed.

Blindly, he started walking towards one of the restaurants, the one called The Wing Head, in the hopes that somehow it was the right one. He didn’t get very far before he felt a tugging on his elbow, pulling him back in the opposite direction. “Babe, where are you going?” Isabella asked.

Of fucking course he’d picked the wrong restaurant. That was just really fitting for the evening.

“Sorry, got turned around,” Dan lied. It wasn’t a particularly believable lie, seeing as they’d been standing in the middle of the two restaurants, but it was leagues better than dealing with Isabella telling him off tonight. Again.

The correct restaurant was some sort of Asian-fusion place, which, really, given the fact that Isabella was constantly switching between diets, was much better than anything Dan had hoped for.

The waitstaff was overly gracious and far too welcoming. Isabella must have impressed upon them that they were famous and important when she’d made the reservation. They sat Dan and Isabella at an intimate table in a corner of the restaurant. By no means were they secluded, but it was one of the more private tables in the restaurant, and clearly reserved for the more important guests.

Isabella pulled Dan down into the chair next to her, rather than allowing him to sit across from her. Dan wished she’d let him sit on the other side of the booth — or even on the inside. Currently, she was on his left, meaning he would have to spend his whole evening trying not to bump her plate, her drink, her with his arm while he ate.

They barely had time to settle in before their waitress brought them a bottle of white wine without prompting — Dan wasn’t sure if that was a gift from the restaurant, or if Isabella had arranged for it when she’d called ahead. Knowing her, neither one would be very surprising.

Thankfully, Dan ended up being right about one thing: being at the restaurant was better than sitting in Isabella’s lounge. Here, they were very much in public, and the nearest couple was well within earshot (certainly something Isabella would have complained about if there were any other available tables). Dan was much less afraid that Isabella was going to say something horrible; surely she wouldn’t start a fight where other people could overhear. She cared far too much about her public image to risk the media catching wind that she and Dan were fighting in public, and on Valentine’s Day no less.

In addition to the public setting, there was finally something completely neutral they could both talk about. Isabella opened a menu, pulling Dan in closer than necessary so that they could look at it together. She was minimally picky tonight, and proposed that they order both appetizers when they couldn’t decide between two options. Dan sighed, but agreed. He didn’t particularly want two appetizers — not in his churning stomach or on his credit card — but it was easier to agree than it was to push picking only one.

“Izzy?” Dan proded when they’d made their decision.

Isabella looked at him with fluttering eyes. “Yes, Danny?”

“Can I have my phone back?”

“Why?” Isabella demanded, her voice sharp.

Dan was prepared for that. He’d thought up an excuse while they were being seated. “I just remembered that I need to text my mum Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Now? That can wait until we get back.”

Dan was prepared for that, too. “No, she normally goes to bed really early and I don’t want to miss her.” Isabella didn’t have to know that Dan got his night owl tendencies from his mum. She also didn’t have to know that Dan was really just asking for his phone back now so that he didn’t leave her alone with it when he inevitably went to the loo. He knew he had to ask far enough ahead of time that it wouldn’t be too obvious he was trying to keep his phone away from her.

If he asked too obviously, and Isabella would fly into a paranoid tirade, asking Dan just what he wanted to keep secret from her.

Dan’s excuse ended up working, thank god. Reluctantly, Isabella handed him his phone. In an attempt to keep up appearances, Dan unlocked it and opened his messages to his mum. He’d already messaged her that morning, but he typed out a quick hope dinner with dad is going well! for the sake of sending something. Then, Dan deliberately slipped his phone into his pocket, rather than Isabella’s outstretched hand. He could see Isabella opening her mouth to argue, probably prepared to insist that they leave both of their phones put away in her purse for the rest of the night, but at that moment, the waitress appeared at their table.

Dan looked up at her with a grateful smile.

“Have you decided on an appetizer for the night?”

“Yes, we’ll have the chinese egg tarts and the vegan samosa potato cakes,” Dan said, knowing that Isabella expected him to do all of the ordering for both of them, the way she felt a man should. “I think we’re also ready with our entree orders as well, too. Right, Izzy?”

Isabella looked red in the cheeks at the question, a combination of flustered and annoyed that Dan had turned the waitress’ attention onto her, but didn’t complain. She nodded with a tight smile, and ordered her own entree (cucumber salad), while Dan scoured the menu quickly and picked the first thing he saw as well (spicy tofu ramen).

Pleased when the waitress left with their orders, Dan tried to hide his relieved sigh. He’d do anything to hurry this night along.

“So,” Isabella said. “How is work going? Are you close to releasing a new song yet?”

“The song that I was working on in the studio when you left is almost done, but we agreed that it’s not going to be released until the album.”

“Why not?” Isabella sounded more annoyed than curious.

“The more I write and work through things… creatively, the more I feel like this album is taking shape. And when I decide to release a single off of it before the album comes out, it’s important to me to pick one that I feel represents the album, that really captures the overall theme, and will give people a sense of what it’s going to be.”

As Dan talked, he worried that he was digging himself into a hole that he wouldn’t be able to get out of. Since his skype call with Phil, and his discussion with Louise the morning, he was certain that this album was centering on a theme. It wasn’t his original intention to make a concept album, but so far, all of the songs he’d written — or started — were about the same ideas, the same feelings.

It was a concept that he definitely couldn’t explain to Isabella. Not without breaking up with her on the spot.

Isabella didn’t care though. She never cared about the content of his music. She only ever seemed to be interested in the parts of his career that she could benefit from. Media things. Concerts. Sponsorships. Travelling. Releasing singles.

“You should release something soon, otherwise you’ll frustrate all of your fans,” Isabella said condescendingly.

“Unlikely. They’ve always been supportive and willing to wait longer for better music.”

Isabella gave him a look that implied she didn’t believe him, but didn’t challenge him any further. In fact, she seemed to give up talking about Dan’s life entirely, and turned the conversation back to herself. She spent the entire twenty minutes they waited for their appetizers talking about some shopping trip she had taken with her friend, describing in detail the new handbag she had bought. Why on earth did she think Dan cared about a fucking purse?

Therefore, Dan was thrilled when their food came. Their waitress apologized profusely — she’d forgotten to bring their appetizers out before their food, and brought both courses at the same time. Personally, Dan couldn’t have been happier. Having all the food at once would help fast-track dinner even more.

Isabella, however, was decidedly unhappy. She loved long, languid meals — which Dan did too, under more normal circumstances — and hated feeling like restaurants were rushing her. Honestly, Dan truly expected her to make a scene, to tell the waitress off for not doing her job right, to demand that the chef re-cook their meals when they were done eating their appetizers.

The waitress got away relatively unscathed though. Isabella only made one snide comment about how everyone has their own talents, maybe yours just isn’t customer service. Dan had tried to apologize with his eyes, and rushed to say that it wasn’t an inconvenience. He hoped the waitress realized that Isabella was not speaking for Dan as well. He vowed to tip even more generously than usual to make up for Isabella’s behavior.

While they ate, neither Dan nor Isabella talked much. Dan knew that there was no way Isabella had exhausted the list of topics about herself that she could bore Dan with, so she must have been focused on eating. The silence should have been unbearable — and actually, it was objectively awkward as all hell — but Dan was so relieved to not have to talk, to not have to listen to Isabella’s inane chatter, to not have to be on edge that Isabella was going to say something awful, that he relished the uncomfortable silence. They talked so little while they ate that that they finished their meal in a record low of twenty minutes.

In typical Isabella fashion, Isabella timed going to the bathroom so that she was conveniently not present when the bill came. Why she still bothered to do that, after dating for so long, was beyond Dan. But he gladly paid the bill, knowing that this was the last dinner he was ever going to have to buy her. That felt incredible.

When the waitress came back with his card, and Isabella finally came back from the loo, Dan ushered them out as quickly as he could. He was ready to be done with tonight. Thank god the wait for an uber was only two minutes. It meant paying the upcharge for the select service (which Isabella always preferred anyway), but it was well worth the extra money.

As they stood on the pavement, waiting for their car to arrive, Isabella turned towards Dan.

“Danny,” Isabella cooed softly into his ear, tugging on the lapel of his coat, “why don’t you come back to my place for a nightcap?”

Dan wasn’t sure if it was out of habit or politeness, but he met Isabella’s eyes and murmured, “Okay.”

a/n: DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNN

i look forward to hearing your thoughts <3

[[next chapter]]

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 11)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 6.8k story words: 66.1k (so far) chapter: 11/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thank you very much to @auroraphilealis for reading and editing this chapter, especially today when she was feeling overwhelmed from work. this chapter took a little longer to publish because i got wrapped up in the oneshot i posted (read here if you want!). also, you’ll notice that i included a link -- it’s not *technically* nsfw but it’s close, just fyi lol (you don’t have to look at it, just included it for those who were curious)

The next morning, Dan woke up with a start. Faintly, he thought he heard the ding of his lift door, but he was almost certain that he’d dreamt it until —

“Oh, Dannnniel!”

A cheery, high voice trilled throughout the flat, echoing in the early morning silence. Dan’s eyes flew open in surprise, just for a moment, before stubbornly fluttering shut again. He’d been up well past four in the morning the night before. Whoever was here would just have to kindly fuck off.

Dan rolled onto his stomach in defiance, burying his face in his pillow in a hazy attempt to hide from whoever had shown up completely uninvited. In his half asleep stupor, Dan tried to muddle through his thoughts long enough to try to figure out who was here, if he had plans that he’d forgotten about, what time it even was. Dan peeked a reluctant eye out of the darkness of his pillow and was greeted by the sun drifting in through his curtains, so it must not be that early. It felt like the blasted sunlight was trying to cajole him into facing the day, but Dan was pretty adamant about doing the exact opposite.

Especially after last night’s epiphany.

And the subsequent hours spent worrying about it.

Nope. For now, Dan would hide in bed. As long. As humanly. Possible.

“Daniel, dearest? Where arrrrrre you?” The singsong voice drifted closer as whoever it was moved further into the apartment.

Dan bit back a groan, not wanting to give away his location before he hand to. Why hadn’t he locked his bedroom door last night? Oh right, he lived alone and that was a stupid thing to do.

It’s not like he was expecting someone to show up at — he glanced at the clock — ten in the morning.

Well, on second thought, it wasn’t that early. At least not to the rest of the world. It felt like it might as well have been daybreak for how tired Dan felt, but most people didn’t share his affinity for staying up well into the night to contemplate life, its meaning, his place in the world… Jesus, there he went again.

Blearily, Dan tried to remember if he had any morning plans, other than going to Beans and Grind. He was fairly certain that he didn’t technically have anything scheduled until his dinner with Isabella that night.

Oh fuck.

That’d better not be Isabella.

Realistically, Dan knew that there were only a small handful of his friends and family that even had access to his apartment, so the intruder could really only be a small number of people — unfortunately, one of whom was his dearly beloved.

And he really didn’t want to see her right now.

Dan groaned quietly and pulled the covers over his head, as if practically suffocating himself in his own pillow wasn’t enough. He listened for the telltale click clack of heels that always accompanied Isabella, but the flat was shockingly quiet.

He couldn’t cope with seeing her right now. Not half-awake, not before coffee, not before he’d figured out how he was going to handle things. He’d tried to come up with a solution all fucking night, but he just couldn’t. Why had he waited to come to such a strong realization the night before Valentine’s Day? He couldn’t have waited one more fucking day to finally get his head on straight?

(Or, well, maybe straight was the wrong word, all things considered).

Valentine’s Day was the one day of the year that absolutely everyone agreed that dumping someone was completely unacceptable.

And, yet, here Dan was, unable to stomach thinking about spending another five bloody minutes in his girlfriend’s company. It was just his luck that Isabella had planned a big fucking romantic dinner for them tonight.

Dan sunk deeper into his bedsheets, dreading the thought of Isabella appearing in his room.

The flat was still silent, though — peaceful, even. Not a mood he usually associated with Isabella. Whoever it was, they’d stopped screaming for him. He didn’t hear any heels clacking, or even anyone moving around outside of his door. Despite the low hum of panic coursing through his body, sleep pulled at Dan, lulling him into the false sense of security that maybe, just maybe he might have dreamed the intruder. He let his eyes flutter closed again, blissfully choosing to ignore the world.

“Lazy boy, there are you!”

Jesus.

Dan tensed up in reaction. The bed gave a quiet squeak as someone sat down, causing him to slip towards them. Refusing to look up and finally face today just yet, Dan took in a deep breath of air, air tinged with roses and lilacs and lilies — Louise.

He let out a sigh of relief, body going boneless against his sheets. He could handle Louise. Of all of the people who could have been in his apartment at ten in the morning on Valentine’s Day — especially when he was this fucking tired still — Louise was by far the best option. He smiled into his pillow, and relaxed against her thigh, where he’d shifted when she’d slid into bed with him.

“Morning, Lou,” Dan murmured, face still muffled by the pillow. He felt her hand land in his hair, petting softly.

“Morning, Danny Boy. Wakey, wakey. It’s Valentine’s Day!” Louise still sounded annoyingly chipper for so early in the morning.

“Valentine’s Day is cancelled. Can it just be tomorrow already?” Dan moaned, rolling over, accidentally knocking Louise’s hand from his head. Too distressed about his own predicament to be upset at losing Louise’s comfort, Dan stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Nope! We have a best friends brunch date that you’re not getting out of, and while we’re eating, you can tell me why you’re being a grumpy goose,” Louise chastised.

“Brunch?” Finally, something good for today. Dan perked up in interest, raising himself onto his elbows to better see her. “We had brunch plans?”

“Not that you knew about, love,” Louise reassured him camly. “I just figured it would be nice to do something for breakfast since I’m sure we both have plans tonight.”

Louise was a good friend. No matter what was going on in their lives — professionally or personally — she always deliberately made time for just the two of them to spend together. He should have known she’d have something up her sleeve for Valentine’s Day.

Dan smiled, unabashedly pushing back the covers, finally feeling like today might be a day worth facing after all. The chilly apartment air hit his bare chest, and he was tempted to pull the duvet back over himself, curl up in bed, and never get up. But Louise was beaming at him, dressed in a pink sweater with a matching pink bow in her hair, looking excited, and against all odds, Dan was looking forward to their morning, too.

Apparently, though, Dan was too slow at getting out of bed because she started swatting at his shoulders with one hand, bundling the blankets towards her with her other.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” Dan whined petulantly, sending Louise a grateful smile so she knew he was kidding (mostly). He pushed himself out of bed and made his way to his closet before realizing he had no idea what to put on because he was missing a key piece of information. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!”

Rolling his eyes, Dan turned back around to face Louise. “Can I get a dress code, at least? Otherwise I’m just wearing this,” Dan motioned down to the tight black Calvin Klein’s he was wearing.

“I’m sure plenty of the world would be excited about that, but I’d prefer you put something else on.” Louise’s eyes were twinkling, and she reached down to grab something resting out of Dan’s site on the floor. When she straightened back up, Dan saw that it was a shopping bag, and it looked fancy.

“Lou...” Dan warned warily. He’d had plenty of experience with Louise buying him things. To be fair, he always ended up loving them, but she had a tendency to… push his style comfort sometimes.

“For you!” Louise cooed, passing him the bag. “Black jeans are fine to wear with it. I’ll be in the lounge. Don’t take too long!”

Before Dan could protest, Louise was jumping down from his bed, and walking briskly from his room.

Half expecting Louise to poke her head back around the doorway to see his reaction, Dan waited until Louise’s footsteps faded out of site to open the bag. Pink. Everything he saw was pink. Warily, Dan pulled the garment out of the bag and held it up, assessing just how bad whatever he’d apparently agreed to was.

Truthfully, it wasn’t hideous. It was just… pink. A muted, light pink sweater edged with blocky black trim. Looking more closely, Dan saw that it was almost sheer and had a very faint pixelated heart pattern. If it weren’t for the fact that it wasn’t black, Dan would almost concede that it was very much his style.

If he was going to wear something outside of the monochrome rainbow, it seemed fitting for it to be something soft, but a little bit ostentatious. But even if he did hate it, he’d probably still wear it without a fight, just to make Louise happy.

Dan pulled the bright garment over his head, and searched for his nearest pair of trousers. Strewn across the armchair were his black jeans, the ones with massive rips across the thighs and knees. They might be cold but they kind of leaned into the slightly-edgy aesthetic of the pink sweater, so it felt like a good choice. Once they were on, Dan paused in front of the mirror and ruffled his hair, quickly rubbing a bit of product in it to tame the curls ever so slightly.

Good enough.

Deciding he didn’t care to try any harder to look nice, Dan shoved his wallet and keys into his pocket, grabbed his coat off the back of his bedroom door, and headed into the lounge to find Louise.

“There you are, my handsome best friend.”

“Shut up, Louise. You’re lucky I love you,” Dan grumbled, making an effort to sound more annoyed than he really was. His mock-annoyance couldn’t last long though; Louise had placed black and white flowers on his bar cart. She’d allowed him to keep some part of his dark aesthetic today and, really, the flowers looked lovely. He really loved flowers — enough so that he bought them for himself sometimes. But there was something about having someone else buy them for him that made the flowers feel extra special. .

He smiled, washing away the exaggeratedly bitter grimace. “No Darcy today?”

“Nope!” Louise stood up and pulled on a dark pink trench coat that she’d must of tossed over Dan’s sofa when she’d first got in. Dan spotted his notebook on the armrest, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket on a whim. Just in case. “Tom is being a good boyfriend and taking care of her so that you and I can do something together.”

“Oh that’s nice of him,” Dan agreed. “Who’s watching her tonight, then?”

Dan crossed his fingers, praying that perfect mother Louise had forgotten to hire a sitter that night, that she would need someone — Dan, for example — to last minute take care of Darcy.

“Tom’s sister. She’s single, so the poor dear didn’t have anything to do tonight anyway. It was actually rather nice of her to offer.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

Louise gave him a confused look over her shoulder as she pushed the button to call the lift. “I assumed you had plans with… your girlfriend.” Louise’s voice was forcefully chipper, but there was a tinge of confusion to it, as if she didn’t quite understand why Dan was so offended.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Dan nodded his head. “Oh, right. Yeah, Isabella.”

Louise looked downright confused, now, and she stared suspiciously at Dan while they waited for the lift to arrive.

“You do have plans with her tonight, right?” Louise asked, sounding a bit outraged.

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Dan reassured her. ”She’s flying in from Turks and Caicos specially for dinner,” he continued, unable to keep the dread out of his voice as he realized just how much of a mess he was actually in.

Louise’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at his tone.

“Someone sounds excited,” she teased .

“Shut up, Lou. No one asked your opinion,” Dan grumbled,

Louise rolled her eyes as the lift doors opened, and the two of them stepped inside. “Right, because if you had asked for my opinion, you would have broken up with her ages ago.”

Dan grimaced — Louise had hit a little too close to home with that jab — and his cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. He’d planned to talk to Louise about his revelation about Isabella at some point, but he hadn’t exactly meant to make his distaste for tonight’s plan quite so clear. At least not this early ino brunch.

Apparently, his expression wasn’t missed by Louise, however.

“Daniel. James. Howell.” She gasped. “What is that look about?” she asked, sounding entirely too happy for someone who was speculating about the demise of Dan’s nearly year-long relationship. But then again, she had never taken any efforts to hide her hatred for Isabella in the past, so her gleeful attitude now shouldn’t be that surprising.

Groaning as he realized he wasn’t quite awake enough to deal with this just yet , Dan stabbed the ground floor button, and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “Can this wait until brunch please?” he begged.

Louise narrowed her eyes. “Fine. But you are telling me everything as soon as we have mimosas.”

“And coffee,” Dan added. Fuck, he really needed coffee.

************

Louise kept her promise. The entire walk to the mysterious brunch place, she chatted about Darcy and what she’d been doing in school lately, how cute it was to see her making friends with the new boy, and ‘experimenting with fashion’. Dan laughed and, just for a moment, let himself forget his own problems. The lives of Louise and Darcy caused Dan a lot less stress to think about, and he relished the distraction. The moment the waiter left from delivering mimosas and coffee, however, Louise abandoned her topics and turned on Dan.

“Okay, spill. What’s going on with you and what’s her face?”

“You know her name,” Dan said, rolling his eyes and giving Louise an exasperated look.

“Unfortunately,” she muttered, not bothering to hide her distaste. “Now, talk. Because it sounds like you’re finally fed up with her after months of me telling you she wasn’t worth your time— or anyone’s, really — and if that’s not the case, I’d rather you crush my dreams sooner than later.”

Dan sighed, and picked up his coffee, savoring a sip as he tried to decide where to start. He hadn’t exactly been anticipating talking about this any time soon, and he’d only just realized himself last night. Louise wasn’t wrong though, not by any means. Dan just had no idea how to tell her that she was right.

He huffed a sigh, rubbing his hands down his face. No better place to begin than with the whole root of the epiphany, he supposed.

“Well, I was incredibly productive last night. I wrote the entire instrumental part of a song, and have a mess of lyrics to go with it.”

“That’s great, but focus please.” Louise snapped her fingers in front of his face, trying to get him to stay on topic.

“No—” Dan cut himself off, struggling to figure out how to vocalize everything he was feeling and thinking. This was why he was a musician. So that he could express himself with something more than just talking.

Music. Right. Dan twisted around in his chair and groped the breast pocket of his coat — good, his song notebook was there. Maybe just showing Louise would be easier. Dan dug the notebook out of his jacket, flinging it onto the table in between them in lieu of a proper response.

“Isabella first, music second,” Louise warned sternly.

“I promise it all connects. Just read read what I wrote,” Dan pleaded.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Louise picked up the notebook and flipped to the last page.

Dan averted his gaze, studiously reading the menu while Louise read. Doing his best to ignore his anxiety at Louise reading what, essentially, amounted to a confession, Dan did his best to focus on brunch.

Did he want something sweet or savory for breakfast this morning? If he was having dinner with anyone but Isabella tonight, he’d assume that they’d have dessert then, but, well. He wasn’t.

Pancakes, then.

Dan snuck a glance up at Louise. She was still engrossed in the notebook.

Secretly, Dan was a little self-satisfied that Louise — Louise, the most talkative person he knew — was rendered completely silent for three full minutes.

Finally, finally she pulled her eyes from the page and looked up at Dan.

“This is some heavy shit.”

“I know.” Dan agreed.

“What’s it about?”

Dan gave her an incredulous look. “What do you think it’s about?”

Louise was silent for another moment, contemplating the notebook again. Her perfectly pink lip was drawn into her mouth; knowing Louise’s luck, she was probably getting lipstick on her teeth. Eventually, Louise turned her attention back to Dan

“Wanting someone you can’t have.” Louise’s tone was neutral, guarded even. Dan shrugged, silently telling her that she was close enough. “And you wrote this last night?”

Dan nodded again.

Louise didn’t ask any more follow up questions. Apparently, she was waiting for Dan to explain on his own. The problem was, Dan didn’t know how to explain. He didn’t know how to admit that he was wrong, that he’d finally fucking seen what his mother, his sister, Louise had all seen from the get go. He hated being wrong. He didn’t want to say it. Not out loud.

So he didn’t.

“Phil,” Dan said instead.

“...Phil?” Louise repeated flatly, looking flabbergasted by the seeming shift in the conversation.

“Phil,” Dan confirmed.

Louise nodded slightly, looking back down at the lyrics. When she looked up again, there was a smile threatening to break across her face. “And Isabella?”

“Ugh,” Dan groaned. “Isabella can go fuck herself.”

The smile that was tugging at Louise’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Thank fuck, Daniel!”

“I know. I know. I haven’t —” Dan was cut off by their waiter arriving.

“May I take your orders?”

Dan nudged Louise’s menu at her because he suspected she hadn’t made a decision yet. “I’ll have the mixed berry pancakes, please.” He glanced at his coffee cup. “And some more coffee when you have a moment.”

“Of course, sir.” The waiter turned to Louise. “And for you, miss?”

“Oh!” Louise exclaimed, eyes still roaming the page. “I’ll have pancakes as well. These ones here with the chocolate, please.” She glanced at Dan, pointing at their nearly empty mimosas. Dan nodded emphatically. “And another round of mimosas. Actually, whenever you see that we’re out of mimosas, we’d like another round. We’re celebrating!”

“Yes,” The waiter smiled fakely. “Today is the celebration of love.”

Dan waited until the waiter had taken their menus and was out of earshot before he added, “More like the celebration of love dying, mate.”

Louise giggled. “So love dying, eh? Tell me more. How did you finally get to this realization?”

“God, I don’t even know honestly. I haven’t felt like myself in months and I’ve just been so fucking busy that I haven’t figured out why and... Izzy’s been out of town for almost two weeks, which has been… great, to say the least.”

“You mean distance doesn’t make the heart grow strong when the only thing you’re interested in is sex?” Louise asked sarcastically.

“I know, I know. Shocking isn’t it?” Dan joked back. “But anyways, so last night I was skyping with Phil —” Dan brushed over Louise’s attempt to interrupt and ask about that “— and I felt so fucking comfortable and myself again. And I wrote that whole song in like an hour. I haven’t written that way in years.”

“I know you haven’t.” Louise agreed consolingly.

“And I just — fuck.” Dan smacked his head on the table, wallowing for a moment before pulling back up and starting to take a drink of his mimosa, only to remember that it was empty. His hand shifted over, grabbing his coffee mug, only to disappointedly realize that was empty, too. Luckily, he saw the waiter approaching.

As the man brought over a tray with two more mimosas and another cup of coffee, Dan fleetingly wondered how things might have been different this past year if he hadn’t been dating Isabella. Would he have written more music? Done more of the things he liked to do? Been able to enjoy his new flat more?

“God,” Dan continued. “She’s so fucking self-obsessed, and so fucking concentrated on fame and being in the spotlight and going out all the fucking time, and I just hate all of those things so fucking much. I just want to focus on music.”

Louise bit back a giggle. Dan could tell that she was feeling incredibly smug, but he appreciated her restraint from being patronizing.

“I know,” Louise sympathized. “I’ve been watching you struggle to balance focusing on yourself and your music with managing all of Isabella’s demands since you got together. It’s looked… tiring.”

“Yes! And I’m fucking exhausted of it now. How the fuck am I supposed to —” the end of Dan’s sentence was interrupted by the waiter arriving once again, this time with their food.

There was a silent agreement to drop the conversation for a moment so that they could focus on their food. Taking turns, Dan and Louise tried each of their pancakes, exchanging tastes of each other’s meals. They both agreed that Dan’s mixed berry topping was good, but it wasn’t nearly as amazing as the chocolate streusel on Louise’s

“So now what?” Louise asked as she popped another bite into her mouth.

Dan looked at her, a bit lost. Still chewing, Louise raised her eyebrows, nudging her head at Dan imploringly.

Right. His conundrum.

“So now I dump her,” Dan said simply, shrugging his shoulders and stealing another bite off of Louise’s plate. Louise didn’t react, just as Dan knew she wouldn’t. She was far too used to Dan stealing her food.

“Yes!” Louise cheered. “I’ll happily pay for your uber to her flat after brunch!”

Dan choked on the food in his mouth. He fumbled for his drink, downing half of his mimosa in one swallow. When he finally had control of his breath again, he turned back to Louise, affronted. “What the fuck, Lou?”

Louise looked taken aback by his outburst, her eyebrows high on her forehead and her eyes wide. “What? What?”

“Are you insane? I can’t break up with her today!”

Louise’s shock turned incredulous. “And why, pray tell, not?”

“That’s such a dick move! Valentine’s Day is the one day of the year that the entire fucking world agrees is supposed to be about romance. You know, the opposite of breaking up. You can’t dump someone on Valentine’s Day! Or at least not without a really, really good reason.”

“Um, she’s a massive bitch and has treated you like crap for almost a year. I think that’s a really, really good reason.”

“I said no, Lou,” Dan snapped. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll ask her to breakfast before she flies off to… wherever she’s supposed to go tomorrow night and… just do it then.” Dan said apathetically as he swirled the contents of his mimosa around. “I have no idea how I’m going to stomach tonight’s date. God, it’s going to suck.”

“Good luck with that, love.” Louise said rather facetiously and not quite as sympathetically as Dan was hoping for. “Do you want to —”

“Oh fuck,” Dan cut her off, suddenly remembering something. “I haven’t gotten her a present.”

“Good?” Louise responded, confused.

“No! Not good!” Dan exclaimed indignantly. “That means I have to get her something now. Today! I have to buy her something when I know I’m breaking up with her tomorrow. I can’t buy her anything too nice because one, I refuse to spend that kind of money on her and two, that will only get her hopes up. But if it’s too shitty, she’ll get mad and it will be a whole thing.”

“Dan, sweetie.” Louise said slowly, as if she were trying to explain something to a child. Her eyes twinkled with mirth. “Maybe you should take the fact that you even procrastinated buying a present until today as a sign that you shouldn’t be postponing breaking up with her until tomorrow morning.”

“No.” Dan’s voice came out harsher, tenser, than he intended. He tried to soften it. “It’s… I can’t do that. Okay? I’ve done my own share of shitty things to her. I don’t need to add to it.” Dan tapped his unused spoon on the table rapidly.

When Louise just looked at him blankly, perplexed, Dan continued.

“She’s mad about how much time I spend with Phil, about how we interact on twitter — I’ve told you that,” Dan tried to explain, his words rushed. “How do you think she’d react if she knew what we’re like in person? How flirty we are? The fact that we’ve both somehow seen each other shirtless? The fact that I’ve sat in his lap?”

Dan hung his head, defeated. His voice grew meeker and less heated. “But she’s right. She has every right to be mad. I’m no better than her. I don’t get to stand on some moral high ground and use her shitty behavior as an excuse for breaking up with her on the most romantic day of the year, not when I’ve been just as shitty.”

“I…” Louise floundered for a moment. “I didn’t realize things had gone that far with Phil.”

“I told you Louise,” Dan said tightly.

“I know you did. I didn’t know your feelings were that serious, though. I thought, hoped even, that they might be. But I didn’t know.” Louise reached out and covered Dan’s hands with her own, effectively stilling the tapping of the spoon.

Did it matter? Did it matter what Dan’s feelings or intentions had been? His behavior was the same: shitty.

“What?” Dan snapped, picking up his glass with the hand Louise was holding. “And all the flirting was okay when I didn’t think I was head over fucking heels for the guy, but the second I realize I might fucking love him, suddenly the behavior is unacceptable? I don’t think so, Louise. I think it was always toeing the line of something very, very dangerous. Even when I just thought it was a schoolgirl crush.”

“I guess you’re right,” Louise relented, briefly thumbing his cheek. “I’m just biased when it comes to you. I know that you have a heart of gold and wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt anyone.”

Dan shrugged but didn’t respond.

Louise was silent for a moment, staring at Dan like she was trying to read his soul. Self consciously, Dan averted his gaze, flitting his eyes around the room and taking in all of the nauseatingly heart-themed decor. It wasn’t exactly the reminder that Dan was looking for at this moment in time.

“Those are some big words, Daniel.”

Dan was tempted to play dumb, to pretend that he didn’t know what Louise was referring to. But his own words were bouncing around his head, echoing loudly in the vast numbness of his current mind. Crush. Head over heels. Love.

“I know,” Dan acquiesced, knowing he couldn’t avoid this conversation any more than he could the one about Isabella.

“So what about him?” Louise asked gently, more tender than she’d been thus far.

Dan chewed on his lip, pulling his gaze away from Louise and poking his fork at the remnants of his pancakes.

“What about Phil?” Louise repeated.

“I don’t know.” Dan huffed, still staring downward and fiddling with his cutlery.

Louise slapped Dan’s notebook against the table, effectively startling Dan into attention. “What do you mean you don’t know about Phil?” she asked fiercely. “According to this song, you very much know about Phil.”

“Look, Louise. You know I’m not great at dating. I’m either too distant and aloof, or I dive all in. And I dove all in with Isabella and it went to shit.”

“It went to shit because Isabella is shit.” Louise pointed out.

“I get that, but also I trusted her. I believed her when she said she loved me — when she said that she loved me for me, regardless of me being famous. Which, in hindsight, was not true.”

“How is this all connecting to Phil?”

Dan hesitated, shifting his sight back down to the table and running his cloth napkin through his hands. When he spoke, his voice came out smaller than he anticipated. “What if I’m wrong again?”

“Love,” Louise cooed, “it sounds like that boy is the sweetest, most genuine person on the planet. You really think he’d try to use you like Isabella did?”

“I mean, no. Not really. Not deep down anyway. But there’s still this gnawing fear about it.” Dan shoved his plate back some and drank the last bit of his coffee. Louise waited patiently for him to go on. “Besides, I don’t think I’m good enough for him.”

“Dan, you have made a lot of bad choices with relationships recently, but you deserve to be happy.”

“It’s not that — I mean, maybe it is a little. I was so fucking vulnerable in this relationship and it backfired and... Mostly it’s that I don’t think I’m in a good mindset to be anyone’s anything right this moment. And Phil — Phil could be the real fucking deal and I’m terrified of messing that up because I jump in too quickly.”

“So do you think you just need to take a little time to yourself first?”

“Maybe,” Dan hummed. “I mean. Yes. Definitely.” Dan nodded, more sure of his choice. “I just feel like I need to be on my own for a little bit, maybe work on myself.”

“I thought you hated being single, Mr. I Love Sex and Affection?” Louise sounded genuinely impressed beneath the teasing.

“I do,” Dan said with a smirk.

“But you’re willing to wait?”

“I want to, need to do this right.” Dan steeled himself, decision made. “And the right way to do it is to fucking figure my own shit out and deal with all this mess from Isabella before I just dive into Phil.”

Louise smiled, looking proud. “When did you get to be so emotionally mature, Daniel?”

“Shut up,” Dan muttered bashfully. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Whatever you say.” Louise swallowed the last bit of her mimosa.

Feeling a bit better about his shit situation, Dan leaned back in his chair, sighing deeply. Everything was going to be okay.

“Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“One last thing, and then I swear we can move on, okay?”

Dan sighed. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Just don’t wait too long? He seems like a good egg, and I don’t want you to lose him because you’re scared.”

Dan blanched. He knew she was right. He knew he couldn’t keep Phil on the line forever. He didn’t want to do that either. He just needed to… to… sort himself out.

“I won’t, I promise.”

True to her word, Louise dropped the subject for the rest of brunch, letting their conversation drift to only the fun and salacious parts of their lives. Dan filled Louise in on his sister’s most recent boyfriend (the consensus was that he sounded okay), and Louise turned a shade of deep red while describing the failed position she and Tom had tried in the bedroom (why either of them looked at a position called the butter churner and decided to try it was beyond Dan).

It wasn’t until they paid their check and finished the last drops of their fourth — or fifth? — mimosa that Dan’s love life came up again — this time by his own doing.

“Louise, I hate to ask this, but can you please please please come to a jewelry shop with me? I have no idea what you’re supposed to get your girlfriend for Valentine’s Day when you’re planning to break up with her the next day,” Dan whined.

“How about nothing?” Louise suggested bitterly.

Dan shot her a stern look as he pulled his coat on and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

“Fine, fine. Maybe Tiffany’s sells a necklace that you can engrave with we’re over.” Louise snickered.

“Hilarious.” Dan said through his teeth, pulling her down the street towards the shops. He was thankful that Louise had picked a brunch place on high street. “Like fuck are we going to somewhere as expensive as Tiffany’s. You have a fifty pound budget and it has to be returnable, just in case.”

“Someone’s feeling generous,” Louise muttered sarcastically.

“I’m doing the best I can, okay?” Dan stuck his tongue out at Louise, happy to at least be able to do such a shitty task with his best friend.

“Fine, fine,” Louise conceded, starting to look around more seriously for a place they could shop. “How about this one?” she asked, tugging Dan into a jeweller that was packed with desperate looking men and women, staring down at the cases like they were a life raft in the middle of the ocean. Louise dragged Dan over to the clearance counter, waving her hand politely at the saleswoman.

She finished up with the man she’d just finished ringing up, and headed over to Dan and Louise.

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Hi!” Louise smiled brightly. “He’d like to buy the nicest thing you have under fifty pounds that isn’t final sale, please.”

The woman’s eyes widened a little, but her tone remained that token customer-service cheerful. “We have a few options, I’m sure. What are you looking for sir? A necklace? Perhaps some earrings or a ring?”

“No!” Dan almost shouted. “Definitely not a ring. Literally anything but a ring.”

Dan looked at Louise and muttered under his breath, “I’d buy her a fucking broach before I bought her a ring.” Louise muffled her laughter into Dan’s shoulder and he had to cover his hand to quiet his own giggles.

The woman gave them a suspicious look but bent down to unlock the counter anyway, selected a few pieces of jewelry with her gloved hands, and placed them on a velvet tray.

“Here you are, sir. I hope one of these will be to your liking.” The saleswoman sat the tray down on the table for Dan to look at.

Unsurprisingly, there weren’t too many options. Dan knew that fifty pounds was an incredibly low budget, especially for a proper jewelry store, he just… didn’t care. He didn’t want to spend a single pence more than he had to on this.

Dan pulled the tray down the table some, moving away from the clearance rack, where it seemed a few people were competing to look. Louise moved with him, hovering over the options the woman had pulled out for them, and contemplating each piece.

“The earrings are nice and delicate, but the necklace is a bit gaudy,” Louise hummed.

Dan eyed the two pieces. The earrings were nice — they were simple gold studs with tiny pearls. The necklace, on the other hand, was a large, round, black onyx pendant on a chunky gold chain. The color of the chain clashed horrendously with the pendant, even Dan knew enough about women’s jewelry to know that.

“Great,” Dan pushed the tray back towards the saleswoman. “We’ll take the necklace, then.”

Both the saleswoman and Louise looked at Dan in shock. Louise sputtered, but the saleswoman tried to regain her composure, and finally said, “Wonderful! We’ve had this… special piece for a while now. Would you like me to gift wrap it for you?”

“Please,” Dan smiled, fluttering his eyes and pretending not to catch on to the woman’s subtle implications that the necklace was, in fact, hideous.

She wasn’t wrong. Dan just didn’t care. In fact, that was kind of the point.

While the saleswoman wrapped up the atrocious necklace, Louise poured over the cases and Dan fiddled on his phone. He noticed that Phil had DM’d him on twitter earlier.

Phil Lester: Hey! I thought you were coming by today?

Dan smiled, happy to discover that Phil still wanted to see him today. On Valentine’s Day of all days. Dan was quick to type a message back, not even bothering to censor his enthusiasm.

Daniel Howell: i will! Louise showed up for surprise brunch though, so i’ll be there on my way back from the shops

The saleswoman came back, setting the wrapped box on the counter in front of Dan with a forced smile. “Anything else, sir?”

“Sorry, do you mind if I see those earrings?” Louise interrupted, pointing to a pair of pretty flower earrings with diamonds for petals.

“Of course, miss.”

The earrings were even more beautiful up close. The center of the flower was a delicate, dimpled gold. They were earrings that Dan would easily consider buying for his mother or sister — he could see why Louise liked them.

“Dan, Dan, look how lovely they are,” Louise cooed.

“They are nice. I like the diamonds.”

“They’re actually part of our Mommy & Me collection,” the saleswoman said as she pulled out a pair of earrings from a neighboring case that neither of them had noticed. The earrings were similar to the first pair, but were smaller and had green stones instead of diamonds.

“Oh my gosh!” Louise gushed. “That’s so precious. Can you imagine Darcy and I running about in matching earrings?”

Dan smiled. “You both would look so adorable.”

“How much are they?” Louise asked.

“The Mommy ones are two-fifty and the daughter ones are one-fifty.”

Louise physically recoiled. “That’s too much,” she murmured. Dan looked over at Louise, who was still eyeing the beautiful pairs of earrings with a wistful smile.

“We’ll take them,” Dan said, pushing both pairs towards the sales woman.

The saleswoman’s eyebrows shot up, undoubtedly surprised that the customer who stomped in demanding something less than fifty pounds and bought the world’s ugliest necklace would impulse buy two pairs of earrings, each at least triple the price of his original budget.

“No no no no no, Dan.” Louise insisted. “Four hundred pounds for earrings for Darcy and I is ridiculous.”

Dan nodded to the saleswoman, signaling her to wrap up the earrings as well, and motioning to the cute “Mothers need Valentines, too!” bags next to the register.

“Lou, you put up with more of my shit than anyone should ever have to, and we all know Darcy is my favorite human being on the planet. It’s Valentine’s Day. I’m short-changing my girlfriend, let me spoil my favorite ladies.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dan could see the saleswoman’s jaw drop, but he didn’t respond. There was no point in trying to explain to her that his relationship was going to hell and he was breaking up with his girlfriend as soon as it was socially acceptable.

“Dan, really, we both know you love us. You don’t need to buy us expensive gifts.”

As Louise pleaded with Dan, the saleswoman motioned him down the counter, pointing to the register in front of her.

“Hush, I’m buying them.” Dan handed his credit card to the woman, smiling softly at Louise, who shook her head but didn’t say anything. When the saleswoman passed him back his card and the two bags, Dan handed the Mother! bag to Louise with a sheepish grin.

“Thank you,” Louise said softly, pressing a small kiss to Dan’s cheek. Dan looped his arm through Louise’s, gently pulling her towards the exit of the shop.

For a few minutes, Louise was content to walk in quiet peace. Dan should have known, though, that it wouldn’t last.

“So, when do I get to meet Phil?”

Dan blanched, tossing Louise a wary look.

“If you don’t introduce me to him, I’ll just stop by Beans and Grind to meet him myself.”

“Ugh, Louise. Soon, alright? Soon. I promise.”

Soon, Dan elaborated in his head, when maybe I can introduce him as something other than a friend.

a/n: and to think some of yall actually thought dan was gonna dump her on valentines day smh. looks, here’s just some friendly, good bants. see, he’s a good boy :) 

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