Chapter Text
Dan woke up and felt, wrong.
Not in an ‘oh my god, I’m so sick’ kind of way, in a way that made him feel, off. Not right. His head was a cloudy mess, and he couldn’t will himself out of bed, no matter how hard he tried.
It didn’t take him long to figure out that it had returned. It was a tad overdue, actually; he hadn’t had a morning like this in a little while, so he really didn’t think much of it. He rolled over and let the duvet shift with him, moving his face out of the stream early morning sunshine. He didn’t have the energy to stand up and walk over to the blind to shut it. All he wanted to do was stay in bed. Or, rather, that’s what his head wanted him to do. It was just going to be one of those days.
Dan hugged the pillow nearest to him, yawning, legs shifting under the warmth of the duvet. Phil had already woken up, and was probably in the midst of making their morning coffee. He could hear the creak of the cabinet doors opening as Phil grabbed his mug, as well as Dan’s box of Crunchy Nut to indulge in while no one was watching.
‘Damn him’ Dan thought to himself, smiling and shaking his head, letting out a little huff before closing his eyes again.
Back to square one. He damn well knew he wasn’t going to leave the bed much today, bathroom breaks and grazing for food were the few exceptions. For now, though, it was early, and he had an excuse to go back to sleep before explaining his all too common dilemma to Phil.
He could hear Phil’s footsteps fall outside of the bedroom; coming out of the kitchen and down the hall carefully, slowly; so as to not wake him. He delicately opened the door, cautious as to not let it make a sound, peering in to assess Dan’s posture. He tiptoed inside, closing the blind all the way so the sunlight didn’t have any sliver of entryway into the bedroom.
Phil carried a mug of hot coffee, the steam rising from the rim and diffusing into nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, setting down the cup on his bedside table. It was a damned miracle that he didn’t trip and fall and drop the thing, knowing his clumsiness, especially early in the morning. He parted his lips to whisper quietly.
“Are you—”
“I’m awake.” Dan cut him off, opening one eye to look at him. He groaned and rolled back over, slinging an arm over his middle and looking up at the ceiling.
Phil grew suspicious, but decided to ignore it. He was prone to jumping to conclusions too quick; every little thing that was even slightly out of the ordinary pointed to Dan’s depression with him. He couldn’t help the anxiety.
“Want some breakfast?”
Dan shook his head and pulled the duvet back up. “Not hungry.”
Now the hunch was stronger. Dan always liked breakfast, he always liked waking up and sitting in the lounge eating whatever breakfast they decided on while watching whatever show they’d been working on. He always did.
Phil shifted on the bed, lifting up his mug and taking a sip of the coffee slowly, as to not burn himself. “Everything okay?” He asked, voice quiet and coming out as barely a whisper.
Dan shook his head, sinking down into the covers and picking at his fingernails. “It’s one of those days.”
Phil nodded, setting his coffee back down and swinging his legs over the side, standing up again. “Toast, love?”
Dan nodded and let his lips curl into a small smile. “Yes please.”
Phil leaned over and kissed his cheek, walking back toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He closed the door halfway, making sure he could still see Dan’s shape under the covers from the hallway.
In a way, Phil was used to this. He’d been taking care of Dan on his terrible days for years, and it was simply a routine he followed. Make sure Dan ate, make sure Dan was clean, make sure Dan was comfortable. No routine in the world would stop the inevitable anxiety that would creep up on him every time. He never knew if his help was working, or if Dan was just dealing with it.
Between Dan’s depression and Phil’s anxiety, they truly were a dynamic duo, in every sense.
The toast popped up from the toaster, both sides golden-brown, the edges darker and burnt. He spread the butter across both of the slices absentmindedly, setting them on a plate and walking back to the bedroom. He could ignore the anxiety that was quietly brewing. For now.
“I’m back,” Phil said, pushing the door back open and tapping it shut with his foot. He carried the plate on the palm of his one hand, sitting down on the end of the bed, reaching over and clicking the lamp on beside him.
The light emitted from the lamp was enough to make Dan cringe and hide under the covers, trying to conceal his face from it. “Fuck you.” He groaned, voice muffled from the layer of blanket on top of him.
Phil stifled a laugh and shook his head, running his hand over the little bump in the covers that he knew were Dan’s shoulders. “C’mon, I got your toast.” He cooed, trying to coax Dan out as best as he could. His hand drifted down from Dan’s shoulders to across his back, the warmth from his fingertips spreading down into the blanket.
Dan moved slowly, finally peeking out from the edge of the duvet and letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. He sat up and let out a breath, throwing Phil a tired smile. “Thank you.” He managed to say, taking the plate and propping it onto his lap.
Phil nodded and swung his legs over the bed, laying horizontally now. Dan nibbled on his toast. “How’re you feeling?” He asked, turning his head to face him.
Dan shrugged and kept his eyes fixed down on his toast. “The same,” he started, looking up at Phil, “like shit.”
Phil nodded and folded his arms over his chest, scooting closer to Dan and letting their legs touch, though separated by the damn duvet. “We’ll stay in bed today, then.”
Dan looked up at him, reluctancy flashing across his face. “You sure?” He asked.
Phil draped an arm over Dan’s shoulders and chuckled to himself. What else would he do? Did Dan really think he’d leave him alone in the state he was in?
“Absolutely positive.”
Dan leaned on him, breathing out and moving his hand over, grabbing Phil’s and tangling their fingers together. “You don’t have to stay with me the whole time, y’know.”
Phil shook his head and clicked his tongue, looking down at their hands for a moment. He always hated this part of these days the most. Phil hated the fact that Dan thought of himself as a burden; he hated that Dan’s mind was making him think that he wasn’t worthy of receiving help. “Shush. I know I don’t have to stay the whole time, I want to stay the whole time. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you?”
“A smart one,” Dan scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes. Phil elbowed him in return.
“Stop it! I’m staying, and that’s final.”
Dan rolled over and pushed himself into the crook of Phil’s neck, groaning out. A silence fell between them, he spoke a few moments later. “I don’t deserve you.”
Phil smiled to himself, amused by his muffled, half-groaning words. He laid back, holding his arm across Dan’s shoulders. He pulled the duvet back up, finally sliding down enough to be in a semi-horizontal position. “You absolutely deserve me.” His voice was like pure chocolate; smooth, delicate, pleasing to every sense. “You can go back to sleep, if you’d like. I’ll be right here.”
Dan shook his head and clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes up at him. “I’m going to stay awake,” he started, “I just don’t feel like standing up. Or doing anything.”
Phil breathed in deeply, his chest rising. Dan rose before Phil decided to breathe back out, sighing in resignment. “Do you have enough energy to shower? Or brush your teeth?” He asked, looking down at him. He tried not to push, but figured that if he at least encouraged Dan to practice the absolute basics of self care, maybe he’d feel even a smidge better.
Dan nodded and slowly moved off of him, his feet hitting the cold hardwood floor of their bedroom, his mind begging him to go back to under the covers. He rubbed his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ll shower later, but I can brush my teeth.” He stood, turning around to face him, draping his arms around himself. “Promise you’ll be here when I get back?”
Phil grinned and nodded, crossing his arms and sitting up against the headboard. “Promise.” He answered, watching Dan lift the corner of his lips into a tiny smile and walk out of their bedroom and down the hall.
Phil’s grin faded as soon as Dan rounded the corner, his arms falling back down to the bed. He ached for something, anything he could do to help Dan at all. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to try to take away Dan’s empty anguish. To know that there wasn’t anything he could do to help him was by far the most agonizing part. Sure, he could help Dan practice self care and feed him and make sure he’d brushed his teeth, but he couldn’t just outright soothe and cure him. He couldn’t ever, and it was just something he learned to accept.
Phil had to accept that this wasn’t a physical illness or injury; it wasn’t something anyone would be able to see. He couldn’t just wash it and slap a plaster on it and make it feel better. As Dan’s primary support system, his role played nearly a more important part than Dan’s own battle against his own depression. Whenever it hit bad, Phil tried to help as best as he possibly could. He’d run bathes, he’d cook meals, he’d do anything Dan asked him to do. That internalized rule still stood, even now. If Dan walked back in and asked him to run a hot bath or make a Tesco trip for some snacks, Phil would in a second.
He could hear the bathroom light being flicked on, the distant sound of the water tap reverberating through the apartment. Phil waited a few minutes, and at last, the tap was turned off, and Dan’s footsteps ricocheted back down the hall. Phil managed to smile before Dan reached the door frame.
“Do you feel a little bit better?” He asked, scooting over to make room for Dan again. The sheets shuffled underneath him.
Dan shrugged and crawled back onto the bed, the frame creaking quietly, the duvet pulling up as he moved back under it. “I do feel minty, though.” He answered, laying back on Phil’s chest. Something familiar again, finally. The few minutes he had to get up to brush his teeth were agony. “I hope I wasn’t gone for too long.”
Phil rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly. “What, all of two minutes?” He asked, leaning down to him. “Thank you for getting up, love. I’m proud of you.” He whispered, lips grazing Dan’s ear, moving up a few centimeters and pressing a kiss to his temple.
Phil knew how difficult it could be for Dan to even sit upright during days like this, so the fact that he was able to drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth was a victory all in itself. And Dan didn’t mind the minute praise; it made him feel like he was at least doing something right.
A silence fell. Neither of them quite knew what to say, or if they should say anything at all. Perhaps they should just fall asleep again, wake up a few hours later and try to do another small productive task. After a few minutes of having his eyes closed, though, Dan decided he was sick of the quiet.
“Thanks, Phil.”
Phil’s lips inched up into a little smile, his closed eyes opening a tad so he could look down at him. “Gonna try to go back to sleep?”
Dan nodded, adjusting himself to become more comfortable. “I think so.”
Phil went back to the position he was in before he opened his eyes and moved his head, loosening the arm that was draped around Dan’s shoulders. “We’ll try again tomorrow, okay?”
Dan tucked himself into Phil, his curls spilling out onto the old t-shirt he was wearing. It was soft, and familiar, and something that he saw Phil wear a hundred million times, but was silently grateful for the fact that he decided to wear it to bed. He needed something to remind himself that Phil was there.
“Okay.”