Work Text:
Dan has the strong sense of deja vu as he stands in duty free and watches a man try far too enthusiastically to sell Phil a bottle of cologne.
The man has blonde hair and he's taller by a couple of inches. Not Dan's type. Not Phil's either, not really. He's slender and attractive, with the hint of a tattoo peeking out under a shirt sleeve and a silver hoop in one ear not unlike Dan's own.
He's fit. Dan's eyes wander down, lingering on his ass. Phil's got a better one, but Dan can still appreciate.
*
"He was trying to pick you up," Dan says as soon as Phil makes his way back to where Dan's at. Phil's got a bag that Dan is quite sure contains no cologne but probably far too many sweets.
"He was not," Phil scoffs.
"Okay," Dan says. He waits thirty seconds. "But he was."
Phil gives him that look that Dan has come to recognize over the past few months, that weirdly bashful but hesitantly proud expression. Dan has a fondness for that expression, almost a pride over it. "No," Phil says. "He wasn't."
"He was," Dan immediately says. There's less conviction in his voice now. "He wanted your sexy body."
Phil snorts indelicately. "No one wants my sexy body."
"Excuse," Dan says, offended.
Phil rolls his eyes. "You don't count."
Dan can't help himself. One firm poke with his pointer finger, right to Phil's side. No one notices the poke, but plenty of people turn to stare when Phil yelps out a wounded sound. "I count," Dan says.
"No, you're just like." Phil makes a face. "Obligated."
"Phil." Dan sighs. "I'm tired, you know. I'm a busy guy. We're busy guys. We're on a fucking world tour. Don't make me schedule in time for some intense body worship kink action. I'll do it, but, you know, I'd rather just nap."
Phil laughs. "See there, that's what I mean. You'd rather nap than have sex."
"Like you wouldn't sometimes," Dan says.
"Sometimes," Phil acknowledges.
"Bet Mr. Buy My Overpriced Smelly Waters would rather hit it than nap," Dan says. "I can run back and ask him-"
He acts like he's going to stop and double backwards, even taking a few steps until Phil grabs his arm. "Stop that. You know they're going to stop let us wandering off on our own if we can't behave."
"We're behaving," Dan says. "Not behaving would be me blowing you in a public toilet, but I'm not fucking doing that, am I. Even if I like your dick in my mouth. Because you've got like, the best dick."
"What-" Phil squints at him. "Are you complimenting my dick to make me feel better?"
"Is it working?"
Phil shrugs. "I mean, I already know you like my dick. But someone can have a nice dick without like - a body, you know."
"You have a body," Dan says.
Phil looks like he's physically struggling with the words that come out of his mouth. "I don't have the kind of body that fit Finnish airport workers want to - hit."
And, ah - there it is, that something there, that nerve Dan's been brushing up against. "Yeah, Phil, you do," Dan says, letting a bit of that something not quite suited for their current environment seep into his words. "Because it's not about having a six pack, you know? People look at you. They notice you. You've got some kind of like, I dunno, striking thing about you. Especially since the hair."
Phil visibly tenses when Dan mentions his hair. He's got some shit to unpack, some things left to let go of.
It's not that Phil doesn't like how he looks now. It's just, Dan thinks, neither of them realized what a source of insecurity it was for him before. Vulnerability doesn't sit well with Phil, even in front of Dan sometimes.
"I'll strike you," Phil says, and they both know he's just filling the space between them with words that hold no meaning.
"Strike me with that big ole' d," Dan says, because he figures he's pushed hard enough for one day.
"You're the worst," Phil says, a blatant smile on his face.
*
"Have you got your introduction prepared yet?" Marianne asks, picking over her breakfast scramble.
"Yeah," Dan says. "I'm going to talk about how Phil got chatted up by his future husband in the airport when we flew in."
Phil drops his fork. "You are not!"
Marianne looks between them, one eyebrow raised. "Did he now?"
"No," Phil says at the same time Dan says the opposite.
"Might even work it into the show regularly, you know? When Phil's talking about his hair. Add in something about how he's got his forehead out for the lads, and the lads are definitely noticing."
Phil is staring daggers at him. Dan's perceptive enough to know that Phil is genuinely a bit annoyed Dan's bringing it up, but it's a new day and he's ready to push a few more buttons in the name of forward progression. Sometimes Phil needs another person to pry his fingers off the walls of his comfort zone.
"That'd go over well with the audience," Marianne says, forever diplomatic.
"You are not," Phil says again. "You are not putting that in the show."
"But you admit now that he was flirting?" Dan asks.
"I don't-" Phil stabs his fork ineffectively into his sticky, sugar-laden pastry. "I don't know why you're making such a thing of this."
"Would you look at that," Marianne says, looking down at her still mostly full plate. "Think I'll go back for seconds. Don't kill each other, boys. I don't want to have to be the one to explain that."
"I just think," Dan says, picking up the conversation from before as though there was no pause of almost forty eight hours. "That you need to accept that your sexiness. I know your whole thing is just like, owning that you're a pasty tall nerd, but you're also... you know."
Dan makes a hand gesture.
“I’m what?” Phil asks.
“Hot.” Dan does a little dance with his eyebrows.
Phil is not as amused as Dan had hoped. "I don't want to do this."
“Fine,” Dan says.
“Fine,” Phil says, and there’s a moment of silence.
But only a moment. Dan’s never been good at shutting up.
"You weren't like that when we met, you know," Dan says, licking yoghurt off his spoon. "Your self-confidence was part of what made you so attractive."
"I was twenty-two," Phil says. "Everyone thinks that way when they’re youn and dumb."
"Why is owning your sexiness a young thing?" Dan asks. "Or a dumb thing? I know you don't lack self-confidence in other ways. You're a functional, successful adult. You do our fucking taxes. Which is also hot, by the way. You don't feel the need to downplay any of that off-camera."
"That is a kink I will never understand," Phil says.
"Don't judge me." Dan kicks a leg out under the table, knocking his calf against Phil's. "Just admit you know you look good. I've seen the selfies you post. Hell, I've taken most of them. I know you get it. You just don't want to say so. But I know it feels nice to have someone who doesn't even know you think you're fit enough to flirt with."
"I just..." Phil's pastry is in forked apart pieces now, having taken the brunt of his frustration. "It doesn't matter, I guess. I don't need other people to find me attractive, it's not like I'm available. So it's easier to not think about it."
"You don't have to be available to enjoy people hitting on you," Dan says. "Validation is still validation. I mean, just don't go home with anyone. "
"Do you like it?" Phil asks, suddenly curious.
Dan smirks. "Maybe."
"Why?" Phil sounds perplexed.
"Because..." Dan licks another spoonful off, perhaps a bit more luxuriously than he needs to. "Because I do still think that you're the fucking sexiest person alive. What you said about me feeling obligated - it's not actually true. I may not jump you every time we're in a room alone together anymore, but we're both too old for that. Doesn't mean I don't love your fucking face, though. And the whole rest of you. I mean, sure, you've got a beak nose and your head is weird shaped and-"
"Wow, thanks," Phil says dryly.
"Shut up, let me finish. You've got a bird nose and your head is weird shaped and sometimes your roots grow out and it looks funny but you put it all together and it's just, stupidly hot, you know. As a whole package. The parts of you that aren't like a magazine cover are what make it work. I loved the emo fringe, I fell in love with the emo fringe, but you got rid of it and suddenly the whole rest of the world noticed that you're a whole fucking meal, Phil. And I want you to own that. I want you to feel as good about it as I do. My kink isn't other guys hitting on you, my kink is you enjoying it."
Dan finishes his monologue and sits back, awaiting a response.
"You're so weird," Phil says, but he smiles down at his food and, out of sight of everyone else, presses his leg against Dan's.
*
They're bouncing around with backstage jitters, listening to the thunderous voice of the crowd singing along to the pre-show playlist, when Phil suddenly stops and turns to Dan with an alarmed expression. "You still can't tell that story in the show."
"Ugh," Dan says, though he'd never really intended on doing it at all. He just likes to keep Phil on his toes sometimes. "You ruin all of my fun."
“Dan!” Phil shoves him.
“Fine. But I get to mention your ass at least twice.”
“Once,” Phil says.
“You drive a hard bargain, Lester.” Dan turns and reaches up, brushing his fingers over Phil’s hair. It doesn’t really need adjusting, but he can get away with it. “Good thing you’re so damn pretty.”