Work Text:
There's a stranger sleeping in Dan's bed, and he's not sure how to feel about it.
*
Most of the time people checking into the hotel during Dan's ten pm to four am shift aren't really looking for conversation. They're looking for a bed to sleep in or a bed to fuck in and either way they're not going to stand around making small talk with the guy behind the counter who is doing his level best to project a disinterest in any interaction outside the structure of doing his job. He finds reservations, activates key cards, and sends them on their way.
But Dan's got a sixth sense about people who are going to need something from him, and because he's the only one working the front desk during the graveyard shift he's got no way to avoid it.
That sense starts to tingle the minute the door opens and a man walks in wearing a very respectable suit and tie with a stain on the front and no luggage at all. The man looks around with a slightly wild expression that means he's either drunk or exhausted. If he's drunk, at least Dan can ring security.
"Can I help you, mate?" Dan asks. His voice carries across the small lobby.
The man looks at him like he's only just realized someone else was there. "I think my driver stole my wallet," he says. "And my mobile's dead, and the airline lost my luggage."
Okay. Not drunk. Damn. And it's so close to his shift ending.
"Do you have a reservation here?" Dan asks.
"I'm with the conference," Phil says.
"... conference?" Dan repeats.
There is no conference.
"Yeah," Phil says again. "The conference. We're supposed to have rooms booked out."
"There's no conference here," Dan says. "Are you sure you're at the right hotel?"
The man looks slightly queasy now. "No," he admits. "Is this the City Centre hotel?"
"... mate." Dan barely manages not to laugh. "No. It is not. You're about thirty minutes in the wrong direction."
The man rubs his forehead and lets out a very quiet, passionate. "Fuck."
*
It’s painful watching Phil sit in the straight back chair in the lobby. It’s not comfortable. Dan knows that, because he knows the furniture was chosen with the intent of keeping people from wanting to linger too long using the free lobby wifi.
He’s only got ten minutes left until shift change. He knows who comes in after him, and he knows Phil won’t be allowed to loiter without a reservation and looking as he does. He’ll be told politely but firmly to leave, and Dan has a vivid mental image of Phil Lester walking down the street helpless and lost and broke.
There’s a chance of rain, too.
Dan sighs. He had plans. Those plans involved going home, eating something horrible for him in front of the television, playing Guild Wars for a couple hours, then crashing until time for the routine to start again.
“Hey,” Dan says, voice cutting through the quiet of the small lobby. “If you need somewhere to crash for a few hours, you can come home with me.”
Phil looks startled. “I can’t do that.”
Dan shrugs. “Fine.” Thirty seconds later. “Not like I’m trying to rob you or anything, though. Doesn’t sound like the last guy left much anyway.”
Phil almost appears affronted, but the expression fades into something more miserable almost right away. “I’ve still got organs. You could harvest those.”
“If I were in the organ harvesting trade, you think I’d still be working this shit job?” Dan asks. “I could probably pay my rent on one good spleen. Unfortunately I’m chronically undermotivated, so your spleen is safe.”
“Good,” Phil says. “I’ve only got the one. I think. Do humans have two spleens?”
“Just one,” Dan says. He sounds confident even though he’s not sure. He’ll google it later.
“But I really can’t.” Phil has polite-voice on.
“Suit yourself.” Dan goes back to looking at his phone. Eight more minutes, and he’s free.
*
There are a lot of things Dan would list about himself under the column of personality flaws. He's sullen and quiet, anxious, prone to depressive spells, lacks the ability to follow through on commitments, and frequently isolates himself from the people in his life that care about him.
But he's not a bad person. So when his shift ends at four in the morning he looks at Phil and says, “Come on.” and leaves work with a stray following close on his heels.
Phil a consultant for an editing software firm, and he's clearly having a worse day than Dan is but that doesn’t stop him from being chatty.
"I'll just charge my phone for a bit," Phil promises. "Then I'll be able to ring someone and figure out money.”
Dan doesn't really have money to give him. All of his meager paycheck goes towards rent for an overpriced one bedroom flat in one of the shittier London neighborhoods.
"Figure it out tomorrow," Dan says, waving a hand. If nothing else he'll be a nice person and put Phil into a car.
"It's already tomorrow, isn't it?" Phil says. "I'm all messed up with times. I flew here from California."
"Yeah?" Dan asks. He’s knows he sounds disinterested, but he’s really just… tired. He’s always tired.
"I'm actually from Manchester. But they flew me out to California to train me on the software, and I'm supposed to present it at this conference. At least it doesn't start until tomorrow, right?" Phil laughs a tepid laugh. He seems aware that he's mostly talking to himself. "Right. Where are we going?"
Dan gives him an amused look. "Would you know even if I told you? It's only five more minutes."
Walking to and from work is the only exercise Dan gets most of the time. There are days when he'd probably skive off work altogether if not for how much he enjoys his early morning walks.
"Right," Phil says a third time. "Okay."
*
In the bright light of Dan's kitchen, Phil looks even worse for wear.
"When's the last time you slept?" Dan asks. He'd really just planned on making some coffee while Phil's phone charged enough to make do and then sending him on his way, but now safe within his own territory Dan feels a strange stirring to do something more.
It's not often he's the one that can help other people. It's not often he feels like he can offer something that makes a difference to someone else.
Phil shrugs. "I can't sleep on planes, and the flight was twelve hours. And the night before they took me out for dinner and kept buying me drinks and then I had to go back to the hotel room and pack..."
"So, it's been a while." Dan abandons the coffee idea and heads into his bedroom.
Phil follows after him, but stops in the doorway. "What-"
Dan looks over his shoulder. "You want something more comfortable to wear? Maybe a shower?"
Phil looks surprised. "You're not going to harvest my organs, are you?"
"No," Dan says. "Can't be bothered cleaning up after that kind of mess today. But you look like shit, mate."
Phil looks down. "I spilled coffee on myself at the airport. I thought that would end up being the worst part of my morning. Before the airline losing my luggage, and the car driver taking my wallet."
He's already rung his bank and credit card company to cancel the cards, taking care of that from the hotel phone behind the reception desk.
Dan tosses him a t-shirt and a pair of joggers. "The shampoo in my bathroom is for curly hair, but have at it."
"Thanks," Phil says, holding the bundle of clothes. Dan looks up again when he doesn't move. "Where's the bathroom?"
*
Phil's shower is fast. Dan's not sure if he's always quick at it, or if he's just uncomfortable in Dan's space. His hair is wet and falls limply over his forehead and somehow the five o'clock shadow on his face seems a touch darker.
"Thanks," he says. "I feel more human now."
"You don't look it," Dan says bluntly.
Phil shrugs. He's at his phone already. "I'm at forty percent now. If you need me to go..."
"Didn't say I did, did I?" Dan asks. "Are you sure you're even safe to go out there? Why don't you just, I don't know, have a nap."
Dan's tired himself now, or beginning to be. He usually falls asleep around sunrise and wakes late afternoon. But Phil looks ten times worse.
"I couldn't-" Phil starts to say. "I couldn't impose."
"Fine." Dan shrugs. "I'm still offering, though."
Phil looks back down at his phone. "I could just... ring someone. To get me."
"You know people in London?" Dan asks.
Phil shakes his head. "But I could call the convention organizers..."
"At-" He looks at the time. "Five seventeen in the morning."
Phil winces. "I guess not."
"Just sleep," Dan says. "I still won't harvest your organs."
Phil gives him a grateful look. "Thank you."
*
Dan's a nice guy, but also a bit of a creep sometimes.
He definitely watches Phil sleep. He stands in the doorway of his bedroom and stares, because now that the buzz of a weird new situation has faded a bit he's able to recognize that Phil is quite fit.
There haven't been any fit guys in Dan's bed in a while. No fit girls, either. No one at all, except Dan and his laptop and his left hand.
Not that he's thinking of having sex with a random businessman that wandered into his workplace. He's not that hard up. Sex isn't even the first thing on his mind most of the time. He's got too much other shit to get together.
Dan stares just a bit longer, then turns and walks away. He'll nap on the sofa for a while.
*
He doesn't really sleep, but awareness fades in and out in stretches of five and ten minutes at a time until the sun is beaming down too directly on his face. He squints and rubs a hand over his eyes. He's tired, bone deep weary, and there's a stranger in his bed.
He opens the fridge and there's not much there. He takes his lunch around two am most days, and doesn't eat again until late afternoon. There's a lot of takeaway in his life, a lot of freezer meals.
Can't feed a freezer meal to a stranger. His nana would drive all the way from Reading just to slap him for it.
He doesn't even know what Phil likes to eat. Is he vegetarian? Vegan? Gluten free? Does he watch his carbs?
Indecision is paralyzing, but Dan's hungry and he needs something to do. He orders a pizza, but he orders what he'd normally get for himself. It's not a date, he tells himself. No need to try all that hard.
*
Tall, dark, and handsome-if-you-like-that-type stumbles bleary eyed from the depths of Dan's sleep cave at half two.
"Oh my god," he says, sounding mildly horrified. "I can't believe I slept so long."
Dan's on his laptop. He barely glances up. "Must have needed it."
"My phone's charged," Phil says. "If you need me to go."
Dan ignores the comment and says, "There's pizza."
"Pizza?" Phil's interest is definitely piqued.
"You must be hungry, right?" Dan asks.
"Starved," Phil says. He opens the box. The pizza's gone cold by now but he doesn't seem to mind. He takes a bite and moans slightly. "This is amazing."
"It's Dominoes," Dan says, "But it's good to know that's where your taste level is at."
"Nothing wrong with a Dominoes," Phil says.
Dan does happen to agree.
Phil eats his pizza standing. Dan pretends to be doing work on his laptop, when in reality he's refreshing twitter and watching Phil out of the corner of his eye.
When Phil's done eating, he wipes his hands on his (Dan's) joggers and then walks back into the bedroom.
Dan has a sinking feeling in his gut, and he's not sure what put it there. All he knows is that this day stands out from every other day already, and he's reluctant to let that go.
But then there's Phil, this person Dan barely knows, with whom Dan has barely even had a real conversation, and he's walking out of Dan's bedroom dressed again and regret for that unknown reason blooms even brighter.
"Guess you'll be going then?" Dan asks.
He can tell his voice sounds clipped. Phil can too, apparently. "If that's alright? Or did you change your mind on the organ harvesting?"
"Still can't be bothered," Dan says, shutting the laptop. Phil's wearing his own trousers and a button up.
"I need to get to my hotel," Phil says. "And then ring the airport about my luggage, and have someone wire me some money."
Dan can see the discarded tie making an unsightly lump in his trouser pocket, and he's got his jacket over one shoulder. The coffee stain looks even worse in the light of day. He's got Dan's hoodie clutched in his other hand.
"You can take that if you want to."
Dan's not sure where the offer comes from. He likes that hoodie.
Phil looks down at it. "Really?" He asks. "We could... we could meet up. For me to give it back to you. And pay you back."
"Pay me back?" Dan asks.
"For the money I'm about to ask to borrow so I can get the tube to where I need to be." Phil says meekly.
"Oh," Dan says. "Yeah, right."
"But I want to make it up to you." Phil takes a breath and then looks at Dan almost imploringly. "Dinner? When's your night off work?"
"Don't worry about it," Dan says. He grabs his wallet and pulls out the only cash he has. He doesn't even count it. "You don't need to pay me back. If you want to return the hoodie, drop it by the hotel."
Phil looks down at where Dan's offering it out to him. He's frowning, and Dan's starting to wonder exactly what's wrong when Phil says, "What if I just want to take you out?"
"What?" Dan stares at him.
"You're - am I wrong?" Phil asks. "I just.. I saw your quilt. And the sticker on your mirror.”
The warm, heavy quilt his friend made him in the colors of a rainbow flag. The equality sticker. "Are you asking me out? Are you even gay?"
The moment feels like a step beyond surreal.
Phil lifts up his trouser leg. His socks have little rainbows on them. Phil shrugs. "A bit?"
"You're a bit gay, or you're a bit asking me out?"
"Both?" Phil says.
"Okay I get how you can be a bit gay, but - how do you just ask someone out a bit?" Dan asks.
Phil begins to look uncomfortable. "If you don't want to, that's fine. I'll have your hoodie sent-"
"I don't work Sunday night," Dan interrupts him.
"Sunday," Phil repeats, smiling. "Alright. I'll bring the hoodie then. And buy you dinner."
*
Sunday comes, and Sunday goes. Dinner turns into a drink after and then a slow stumble through Dan's doorway with hands and mouths exploring. Monday morning dawns bright and early.
There's a stranger in Dan's bed again, and this time he knows exactly how to feel about it.
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