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The alarm goes off too early, a shrill unkindness disturbing the quiet peace in the darkness. He’s simply not ready to face the day yet. It’s going to be a great day, an exciting day, but it’s also going to be physically and mentally draining and he’s just-- not quite ready yet.
He reaches his hand out, fumbles it across the nightstand with heavy sleep drunk fingers and presses snooze on the phone without so much as cracking one eye open. At least he hopes it was snooze.
He snuggles back down into the irresistible warmth of the white hotel sheets, and of Phil. This bed is strangely comfortable for one that has none of the trappings of home. Well, not none. It does have one thing. One person, and really that’s all Dan needs. He fits himself up against Phil’s back and hugs his waist.
Phil stirs but he doesn’t wake. He’s always been a heavy sleeper, and Dan suspects he’s just as unwilling to say goodbye to this cozy bubble of stillness and comfort as Dan is.
Despite the exhaustion of long days of rehearsing and the knowledge that they’d need all the energy they could get today, it’d taken far too long for sleep to find them last night. It’s not like they hadn’t tried-- they had. Even lying naked and intertwined under the covers with hair ruffled and limbs loose hadn’t been enough to quiet the excited but nervous thrumming beneath the surface of their skin.
So Dan had pulled out his laptop and resumed his quest to discover the most obscure and useless information Wikipedia had to offer, while Phil lay next to him, head on Dan’s shoulder and scrolling endlessly through Instagram. They’d kept at that for at least an hour, until Phil took the laptop from its home on Dan’s thighs and insisted they turn out the lights and at least try to sleep.
Today’s the day it all starts, this journey across the world. Today they’re in Brighton and the adventure truly begins.
*
Today they’re in Brighton and they can see the sea. They have a perfect view of it out the window as they sit cross legged on the bed eating their toast and drinking their coffee and trying not to let the rising tide of anticipation scare them too much.
It won’t always feel like this, Dan knows. Sooner than later this will be their new normal, waking up too early and sharing a quiet moment or two together before the preparation starts. The hair, the makeup, the briefings with Marianne. The meet and greets and the photos and the autographs and the endless sea of faces, the constant invited invasion of their personal space. Soon they won’t be nervous in the morning because they have a show in the afternoon.
But today they are. They’re not really talking about it, but that’s kind of how Dan knows. Phil is quieter than normal, more still, staring out the window and pressing his knee into Dan’s.
“My toast is cold,” he croaks, voice still husky with sleep.
Dan turns his head from the view of waves rolling in the distance. “What d’you want me to do about it?”
Phil stares down at his breakfast with a forlorn expression. Dan watches a little cheeky smile quirk the corners of his lips a moment later and Phil picks up both pieces of toast and scoots off the bed. He puts the offensively temperatured bread slices back into their curious spiraled metal rack and heads off to the bathroom.
When he comes back he’s got a blow dryer in his hand and grabs his phone off the nightstand.
“You’re not going to…” Dan murmurs.
He does.
Dan’s still laughing when Phil plonks back down beside him.
“What?” Phil asks, shoving toast into his smiling mouth. “It worked!”
“You’re a genius.” Dan leans over and kisses him, crumbs be damned. He feels the knot of tension between his shoulder blades melt a little.
He can do this. They can do this. It’s nothing they haven’t done before and he’ll have Phil by his side the whole time. That’s all he really needs.
*
He’s nervous again. He knows they’re ready and that everything will be fine and the people will love it, but he can hear the distant rumble of hundreds of voices and footsteps and the thought that soon enough all those eyes will be on him makes his heart beat faster.
It makes his hands shake just the tiniest bit, which makes it harder to spread his fingers and press them against the keys in the right ways. His finger slips and he hits the wrong note.
He stops and takes a deep breath. His body is more tense than his brain is telling him he’s allowed to be. He’s been excited about this for ages and the day is finally here and he refuses to let pre-show jitters take that away from him. He looks at Phil.
Phil’s already looking back, sitting across from him and watching him play.
“You nervous?” Phil asks.
Dan nods. “You?”
Phil nods.
“It’s gonna be great, right?” Dan asks.
“It’s gonna be great.”
Dan can see that Phil’s hands are a little shaky too. They steal a moment now, just a quiet beat to look into each other’s eyes before the madness commences.
“Will you play for me?” Phil asks.
Dan nods. He can do that.
*
Phil sits across the coffee table from him, chugging from his water bottle. They’re both sweaty and exhausted and just— happy. Strangely exhilarated for how tired they are.
It’s not over. They still have to do it again. They have to meet more people and take more photos and put on a whole other show, but right now they get to chill.
His ears are ringing a little now they’re in this quiet space again, the volume of the screams and shouts of adoration still echoing in his head. It’s a little jarring to go from that to this so quickly. One minute they’d been on their stage, lights flashing and fans shouting and now they’re here, trying to catch their breath.
They’re not talking about the show yet. They’re not discussing what went wrong and what went right. They’re just sitting and drinking and… processing. They’re smiling at each other and wiping the sweat off their faces.
Phil pulls out his phone and takes a few videos for his instastory. Dan can’t be bothered yet.
He does pull out his phone though, because Phil looks as good as he’s ever looked and Dan’s heart is bursting with fondness and he wants to remember this, the high after the very first show of their second world tour.
Phil tries to protest. He holds a hand up over his face. “I’m all sweaty and disgusting.”
“You’re not. You’re beautiful. Let me see you.”
Phil drops his hand and his smile is fucking radiant and Dan takes the picture. He suddenly wishes Phil wasn’t so far away but he’s too comfortable to get up and do anything about it just yet.
“Thank you,” Dan says softly. He hopes Phil knows he means it for more than just letting him take a blurry dressing room photo.
*
They’re naked and in bed again, sweating for a different reason. Somehow he’d had even more energy after the second show, and that had translated into an intense desire to get Phil underneath him as soon as possible.
And it’d been good, like it was always is, but it’s more than that. It’s more than sex. The satiation he feels is deep and down to his bones and a lot more than just the afterglow of a particularly good orgasm. It’s about sharing every part of himself— his heart and his dreams and his body and his future, and all of it with Phil. They share everything and sometimes the profundity of that overwhelms him and all he can do is push into it, leaving sloppy kisses on Phil’s neck and finger tracks through Phil’s hair.
“I’m hungry,” Dan whinges, because he is and he doesn’t need to say all the other stuff. Phil already knows all the other stuff.
“Me too. But there’s no room service here.”
“Can we— can you get takeaway to a hotel?” Dan asks. The thought of going to sleep with an empty stomach is simply unfathomable.
Phil frowns. “I dunno, I mean. Probably?”
“Let’s do it.”
*
They’ve managed to pull on some clothes by the time the food arrives. Dan sits on the bed in his NASA nightie and GoT pjs and watches Phil pay the delivery man and apologize profusely for making him come all the way to a random hotel room. Dan doesn’t actually see it but he just knows Phil’s given the guy a ridiculous tip.
“You know he doesn’t care, right?” Dan asks as Phil closes the door. “That’s literally his job.”
“I know but still.” Phil walks toward the table in the corner of the room.
“Let’s eat here,” Dan says in that whiny way that almost never fails to get him what he wants. He expects a fight, but happily, he doesn’t get one. Phil just rolls his eyes and smiles and carries the insane load of food they’d ordered over to the bed.
Even though it’s basically the middle of the night and they’d ordered enough food for a lot more people than two, they eat everything. Dan lays out four different dips and hardly lets Phil eat any of them, and only when he gets to do the feeding. He groans obscenely at the pure ecstasy that is pita dipped in tzatziki and leans forward, reaching his hand out to let Phil have a bite.
“Fuck,” Phil says, his mouth full of food.
Dan laughs. They might as well be drunk at this point, they’re so loose and sleepy and delirious with happiness.
Phil picks up a sausage from the tray and giggles.
“Are you twelve?” Dan tries to scold but he’s laughing just as much.
“Literal evening sausage.”
“You got double evening sausage tonight. You’re greedy.”
“Says the bloke hording all the condiments,” Phil retorts, taking an unspeakably giant bite.
*
“I’m never eating again,” Dan moans.
“Me neither,” Phil agrees, pulling the duvet up over them both. “Not until like, at least mid morning tomorrow.”
Dan rolls over and presses himself into Phil’s once again shirtless body. “You’re so stupid,” he murmurs. Phil’s arms wrap around Dan’s shoulders and hold him in place.
They’re quiet for a while, each just listening to the other breathe. Dan doesn’t doubt Phil’s head is swimming with just as many thoughts as his, replaying the events of the day and hopefully coming to the same conclusion-- they’re so fucking lucky. For this life and everything they’ve built and the fact that they never have to do any of it alone.
Dan tips his head up and Phil tips his down and for a second Dan feels like he’s eighteen again, staring into impossibly blue eyes and realizing for the first time that he wouldn’t mind treading these waters forever. He runs his hand up the back of Phil’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss.
It’s minty and sweet and laced with so many things Dan knows he doesn’t have to say but kind of wants to anyway.
He pulls back. “Babe.”
Phils thumb is on his cheek, stroking against the bone with an almost unbearable amount of tenderness. “What?” he whispers.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You know.” Dan leans forward and kisses him again. “Everything.”
Phil smiles. “Yeah. You too.”
Dan just has one thing left to say before he allows himself to fall asleep. It’s nothing new, it’s nothing they haven’t said a million different times in a million different ways, but tonight it feels just a little extra true.
Phil’s eyes are closed. He’s probably half asleep already, so Dan kisses his temple and whispers it, barely enough to be heard over his own breath.
“I love you.”