Chapter Text
"why haven't you wished me?"
for such a monumental day, it sure is a daunting question.
phil pauses where he's stirring the sauce for a moment, then shakes his head and resumes a little too casually, a small smile on his lips. "uh-oh, is it that time of day already?"
"phiiil." dan's voice is teetering on whiny, but he can't help it. this is a serious conversation that needs to be addressed right now.
phil can't help the chuckle that escapes his lips, but he still doesn't answer dan. he doesn't know what dan's thinking right now but if he's thinking about this unprompted, and on today of all days..
it's not good.
it's not that he doesn't want to answer dan, really, it's just that he doesn't know how to do so without hurting his feelings. not in an intentional way, he just knows how it's going to come out.
the window is open and the air outside is crisp and cool. and despite it being well into late afternoon, it's dreary (no surprise there, really), but that's not going to sour either of their moods, it can't.
dan won't let it. today has to be absolutely perfect.
if anything, dan thinks, he's probably going to ruin it from overthinking.
but he can't help it, it's one of his most defining characteristics. and the thought has been in his mind since morning - why hasn't phil wished him? he's told him he loves him, he's told him he's happy it's been fifteen years together, he's been extra loving (and maybe extra quiet, but dan's ignoring that), but he hasn't wished him.
maybe it's a little silly, but the thought is still there, and dan's fixating on it because today has to be absolutely fucking perfect, and this… this isn't perfect.
(dan can't help that he's a perfectionist.)
he hops up on the counter behind phil to sit and nudges phil with his foot, still waiting for an answer. demanding one, really.
phil jumps a little at the contact, then absently swats in the direction of dan’s foot.
“oi, you’re going to make me burn the pasta sauce,”
“i’m more important than pasta sauce,” dan retorts.
phil acknowledges his sentiment with a vague hum, but still keeps his back turned.
dan's being purposely ignored (placated, perhaps, but definitely not given the full attention he was expecting; vying for, even), he knows it, but the resounding why is still unknown.
“….right?” his voice goes very small very quick, and it alarms phil enough that he glances sideways at dan, to see him fiddling with his sleeve, looking down. he looks like a child waiting for their parent to finish lunch. it’s cute, if a little concerning.
“of course, bear, i’m just.. a little tired,”
dan feels something that’s between an overwhelming sadness and an equally overwhelming irritation.
he knows he’s more important but sometimes it’s nice to hear it. especially today.
“tired of me?” he jokes, but it’s weak. insecurity wrapped in a light tone, his specialty.
“never tired of you,” phil pauses, “..maybe annoyed sometimes,”
“oi!” he mocks being offended but he doesn't disagree; he knows phil's teasing him and it's true anyway.
phil chuckles, finally turning the stove off and lidding the pot (precariously, dan notices offhandedly), before turning towards dan and shuffling closer until he's between his legs.
dan instinctively wraps his legs around phil, keeping him in place.
they fit so well together. like puzzle pieces. like destiny.
their eyes meet and dan searches phil's, trying desperately to see what's going on, to get an answer to his question, but phil's eyes are strangely blank; carefully neutral, and it makes his stomach twist unpleasantly.
"alright?" phil's hand is on his cheek and his voice is gentle, like he's afraid of asking, and, subsequently, of the answer.
dan leans into his touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he can stop it.
he doesn't want to ruin this perfect day by insisting upon his insecurities aloud, but dealing with them quietly is no longer a thing he routinely does.
but, he supposes, sometimes it's okay to wallow internally.
to keep the peace, he tells himself. to not ruin their day.
so he just nods in response, and while phil doesn't seem satisfied with it, he does drop it. (dan can't help but feel a twinge of sadness at this; at phil no longer insisting on dan telling him everything immediately, even though he knows it's better this way.)
the silence that falls between them is comforting, if a little odd, and phil leans in to give dan a chaste kiss to mitigate the oddness of it.
though it's quick, the kiss still makes dan swoon, and he chases phil's lips when he pulls away. sometimes he feels so in love it's silly.
phil looks amused, pressing another simple kiss to his lips, pulling away only a touch to murmur, "do you want to eat before we go?"
truly, even the small kisses make dan think he's floating somewhere high above his actual body, and he doesn't hear phil until he feels phil's laugh rumble his body.
"huh?" he mumbles back distractedly, arms sliding up phil's side and around his neck. now he's double locked into place and dan's satisfied at this. they could stay here all evening, fuck the plans for the perfect day.
"we have plans, bear," phil reminds him gently, though he makes no move to try and escape dan's koala-esque behaviour.
"fuck the plans." he repeats what's in his brain instantly.
phil's laugh rumbles through him again, and when he leans to place small kisses over dan's neck, dan shivers and lets out arguably the sweetest of whines, to phil's ears.
he knows he's not helping his case that they should probably get going (it's going to be dark very soon and walking in town together in the dark, while romantic, is not a great idea), but he can't help it. dan looks so blissful. so.. serene.
"god, we.." his voice is rough as he lingers at dan's pulse point on his neck – the way he shivers is absolutely fucking intoxicating – "..we should get going,"
dan doesn't say anything. he honestly doesn't know if he even hears phil. all he can think about is how lovely it is that their relationship is still able to take their breaths away, all these years later, and the emotions are pulling him towards a point he can't quite reach but feels like he desperately needs to.
"daaan.." phil's voice is a soft whine and his breath is no longer cascading over his neck, and it pulls him out of whatever fantasy he was falling in. he blinks at the older man, looking so fucking amused at him, trying to get his bearings enough to form some sort of response.
"uh." truly, he is the embodiment of eloquence.
"c'mon love, we gotta go,"
dan considers pouting, considers holding phil (who also looks like he wants to stay here, in this moment, forever) here forever, but he knows a more perfect day will be going out together.
so he lets out a long-suffering sigh that makes phil laugh again, and reluctantly unwraps himself.
the cold he feels when phil steps away is instant, and for a moment it makes him sad.
that's so stupid, he thinks, phil's right here and dan's missing him.
phil also looks rather thrown by the sudden loss of warmth, and stares at dan for a few moments too long, which makes dan feel a little shy and duck his head.
when there's no response or movement for a few minutes, he peeks up to phil, who's literally still staring at him, and he can feel a flush begin to cover his neck.
"...what?"
phil looks like he's been caught (doing what? dan doesn't know), but then he gives a small, almost apologetic smile.
"sorry," he mumbles, averting his eyes like he's embarrassed, "you're just- you're really pretty,"
dan immediately covers his face with his hands, the blush that was just on his neck now definitely covering his whole face.
"shut up," he doesn't mean it, of course, but god, why is phil still able to make him feel so young and in love with just something as simple as that.
he feels a hand tugging on his wrists and he allows them to bring them away from his face, but he keeps his eyes away, not wanting to get stuck here when they have better things to be doing and they need to go. but when he feels phil's soft, slightly-chapped lips across his knuckles, he whines.
"phiiiiil,"
"..sorry," he doesn't sound sorry at all, but he does stop (much to dan's disappointment), instead opting to tug dan off the counter.
dan obliges with the tug, letting himself be walked over to their shoes. they stay in silence and arguably too close together as they put their shoes and coats on (dan does the absent mental check of keys, phone, wallet) and when the door shuts behind them both, the soft sound echoes in a disconcerting way.
phil still never answered the question.
it's an entirely unhelpful thought and dan's extremely unhappy that it's popping up when not ten minutes ago he was in what he assumes is their version of marital bliss, but he doesn't voice it.
phil notices anyway, keeping their shoulders pressed together from the moment they step outside, all through the taxi ride, in a pointed, it's still us, we're still here, together, way.
neither even look at their phones this ride, just enjoying the closeness and staring out their respective windows; both lost in thought about this – about fifteen years.
sure, dan's getting a tiny bit antsy now – it's supposed to be the perfect day, why aren't they talking? why hasn't phil answered him? why hasn't phil wished him? – but he keeps it to himself.
no ruining this, he tells himself.
not today.
a blush rises to dan's cheeks when phil, smoothly, casually, takes his hand to intertwine their fingers when they step out of the taxi, and he giggles quietly. he feels a bit like he's teetering on the edge of being a teenager on a first date, and maybe that feeling is maybe kinda a little fun at thirty-four years old (save for the does-he-like-me anxiety; that he could so do without).
it's only been six days since they've announced their relationship to the world and it's still so, so weird being able to do things like hold hands in public.
"..i feel like a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle," phil murmurs, close enough to dan's ear that he has to suppress a shiver.
he giggles a little again. something about this whole thing is making him feel really, really high and it's coming out in squeaky giggles and a voice that's not quite the same as his own.
"why for, philip?"
"we're.. holding hands. in public. it's scandalous, daniel,"
dan wishes he could disagree, to make fun of phil for such a thing, but he really can't, especially not with how breathy phil's voice is, and how close he is.
truly, they really are always just lost in their own world.
it's so pleasant. so.. perfect.
he's so distracted thinking about this and looking over the crowd (it seems larger than usual, but maybe that's just because he's secretly brooding about it not being completely empty and just for them), that he doesn't feel phil's hand slip out of his own.
when he does realise, it's several minutes later and only because someone's jostled him so hard and glared at him like he's the problem, and he's leaning over to where phil was to mutter, "can you believe this asshole?"
but phil's not there. phil's not pressing against him, not holding his hand anymore, not in his personal space, and he feels a special sort of panic start to poke at his brain.
his hands are suddenly so incredibly sweaty and his brain has started on all the worst case scenarios immediately.
phil was kidnapped. phil left him. phil decided this would be the perfect moment to break up. phil–
he takes a deep breath and holds it, making blood rush to his ears so loud and quick that he feels dizzy for a moment. but the dizzy feeling is a welcome blanket over the anxious thoughts, and he's able to think a little better now.
fretting over possibilities (as likely or unlikely as they are) isn't going to help.
he needs to search.
logically, he knows he shouldn't be this wound up about losing phil in a crowd, especially after this long of being together and almost equally as long of phil's tendency to wander off, but he can't help it. he feels like he's going to lose his entire fucking mind if he doesn't find phil as soon as possible.
his hand tingles with the missing feeling of his partner, and he can feel something between panic and dread rising up in his throat again. phil's too tall for something like this, there's no reason he should be this fucking difficult to find.
should he go to the entrance? the lost-and-found? is there a lost-and-found? should he just stay there, rooted in place, for when phil eventually returns? if he eventually returns?
the thoughts are getting bad again, and he feels like he's going to throw up with all these feelings happening in such rapid succession.
and then, a delicate, practiced hand slips into his own again, and he jumps, turning frantically to look at the offender.
phil.
"asshole." the word leaves his mouth before he thinks, and he knows there's something bitter and panicked in it.
phil has the decency to look embarrassed, but still flashes dan a lopsided smile.
"sorry," he whispers. (why are they whispering? dan doesn't know.) "had to- get you this,"
it's only then he notices that phil's holding something else in his hand.
a small stuffed bear.
just like the one from fifteen years ago today (that sits in their lounge; not lost through their million moves, and never, ever forgotten). maybe down to the exact minute, dan thinks absently, he knows phil's a sap and for all his poor planning, he knows he'd go to great lengths to do something like that.
he mentally files that to his list of things to ask phil at another time. literally any other time that isn't now, on their perfect day.
he's so busy thinking he doesn't realise he's staring, and phil's hand is trembling (not from the cold, surely, but what other reason would it be?), and his heart swells with so much love and adoration he thinks he's going to explode.
it's only when phil presses the bear against dan's free hand that dan snaps out of it and meets phil's eyes - full of adoration and.. nervous? why would he be nervous?
he takes the bear silently, a thank you and i love you getting stuck in his throat at all the possibilities of why phil could possibly be worried, but phil smiles reassuringly.
no words need to be spoken for phil to know dan's going to be in his own head.
and that's okay. phil wouldn't have him any other way.
so when phil starts tugging his hand more earnestly, dan allows him. he allows him to lead the way to a pinnacle moment of their lives, to the manchester eye.
and when they get there, somehow there's no line because somehow the universe said you deserve this, and you are destined, and like actual soulmates, and dan doesn't believe in these things but he swears he hears it in the breeze. (and he believes in phil, who believes in these things.)
he notices a short exchange between the worker and phil (two knowing, wordless nods) and dan only realises what it is when they've climbed inside a carriage together and the ride hums to life, not stopping until they're all the way to the top.
there's no one else on their ride. no one in the other boxes. it's just them.
presumably, this is phil's doing.
dan believes it's fate. (he will, of course, deny this when phil asks about it later; he's rational and logical and no way does he believe in fate and stardust and destiny.)
so when the ride stops with them at the top, dan can't help but laugh, joyous and with tears in his eyes.
sitting here, side by side, looking up at the same stars they’ve stared at a million times, he just can’t help but think about how funny it all is.
how he met his forever person, his like actual soulmate, at eighteen, and this wonderful life they’ve built together. through terrifying failures and perhaps even more terrifying successes, the one constant in his life has been there for fifteen years, has given him a place to unravel safely, despite everything.
despite everything, he thinks, it’s still them. it’ll always be them.
“i’ll always choose you,” phil’s voice is a firm whisper next to him, and he has a small smile on his lips. he knows dan didn’t mean to say it out loud, but he’s glad he did, because he’ll take every chance he gets to promise him forever.
“promise?”
“promise.”
and phil swears the stars are shining as bright as they did exactly fifteen years ago, in this exact same spot, when they were young and scared and so, so in love that it hurt.
and dan swears phil's eyes are shining brighter than the stars ever could, and he's as in love with them as he was fifteen years ago.
“happy anniversary, dan."
it's so sappy. he wanted to wait until they were here, fifteen years later, but dan can't find it in himself to be mad about it, or the fact that he hid this plan. in fact, the relief and clarity and love that overtakes him at this is stronger than any anxiety that he's had all goddamn day.
the words are soft, just for them, but carry through the carriage and envelop them both in something warm, something soft, something exciting, something heart-racing – something like true love.
and it's not the perfect day, because it never will be, but it'll always be them.
unravelling themselves and putting each other back together.
and that's perfect for dan.