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Phil has often heard it said that it’s paramount in a relationship to carve out time for dates, to spend time with your partner in a way that requires a little extra effort, away from the space you get used to sharing. After all, the longer you’re together the easier it is to let the magic be dulled by the stresses of everyday life.
Phil doesn’t disagree. Date nights have always been important to both of them. But he bristles at having to hear it, like he does at any advice given to him about how to make a partnership work. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him how to love Dan. He’s been doing it so long it’s second nature at this point.
Sometimes they don’t want to go out. Sometimes they want to stay in.
Because theirs is not a partnership to which the rest of the world is privy. Their particular magic is maintained by keeping it private. Date nights are important, but they don’t always need to leave the safety of their home to have them. Phil likes their home, and sometimes having to reign in his natural instinct to reach out and touch does more harm than good.
He doesn’t want to reign anything in tonight. Not when Dan looks like that.
And Dan couldn’t look like that if their date included a restaurant or a cinema or even a skybar. Phil loves those things, but he also loves seeing Dan in an oversized charcoal grey cable knit jumper and white lace leggings.
He appreciates it even more with Dan sat on the sofa, those long legs curled up under him, as he watches Phil cook.
“I could help, you know,” Dan says.
“Nope.” Phil shakes his head, stirring the pasta sauce. He might not be the best chef in the world but he can do up something decent for his boyfriend now and then. Hopefully. And if not, then this will be another on the long list of date nights that have ended with Dan mocking Phil for his culinary ineptitude and them ordering a slightly fancier than normal takeaway.
“What about the wine?” Dan unfolds his legs and stands. “Can I at least do that?”
Phil laughs, a low soft sound. “You just want a glass, don’t you?”
Dan walks over to him and looks over his shoulder. He smells - nice, Phil realizes. Different than normal. Not floral, exactly, but something almost there. Phil wonders where all he’ll be smelling it later, when he’s pressing kisses into Dan’s skin. He’ll have to go on a proper hunt for it.
“You don’t know me,” Dan says, kissing the back of Phil’s neck. It’s ticklish against Phil’s skin, bare since he’s just had a haircut. “You don’t know my ways.”
“I know all of your ways, Howell.” Phil feels warm with the familiar back and forth. He turns around to face the one who always seems to know how to make him warm and Dan drapes his arms around the back of Phil’s neck.
“You look good,” Phil says in a low voice, wrapping an arm around the small of Dan’s back and pulling him in closer. “My date’s the fittest.”
Dan shakes his head. “Mine is.”
Phil smiles. “Agree to disagree, then.” It still makes something in his stomach feel hot when Dan says stuff like that. This is why they don’t need to go out to keep the spark alive; all Dan has to do is put on some nice perfume and lean in for a kiss in their kitchen and Phil’s practically swooning.
He reaches down to pull up on the bottom of Dan’s jumper and cup Dan’s ace through the lace. “I like these,” he says after their lips smack apart.
“Thought you would.”
Phil’s definitely contemplating another kiss when Dan pushes him away. “Hey!” he pouts.
“Wine,” Dan reminds him, walking over to the fridge to pull out the bottle that’s been chilling. Dan likes to remind Phil that he’s a pleb for not wanting to drink a nice red at room temperature like it’s meant to be enjoyed, but Phil doesn’t care. He’s not even above - horror of horrors - dropping a couple ice cubes in if it’s not cold enough for his liking.
(Secretly he thinks Dan enjoys it cold just like he does, but Dan won’t admit it.)
Dan takes the bottle over to the table and then fetches two glasses for them. Phil pretends to keep stirring the sauce but he also can’t take his eyes off Dan, the way even as tall as he is he’s got to reach up a bit for where they keep the nice wine glasses. It makes the hemline of the cable knit sweater ride up to just the bottom of Dan’s ass, the faintest hint of his cheeks filling out the leggings. Phil can’t see an underwear line and it makes him almost giddy to realize he’ll get to discover what option Dan’s gone for tonight in just a few hours.
Or maybe sooner if Dan lets him cop another cheeky feel. That’s something else that he wouldn’t be able to do if they had date nights outside of the flat.
“Stop staring at my ass.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” Phil says, but he turns back to the sauce with a smirk on his face. Dan hadn’t even had to turn around to know that Phil was ogling him. He knows Phil’s ways too.
He hands Phil a glass and then hops backwards up onto the counter to sit and watch Phil as he stirs. In the spirit of allowing himself the luxury of zeroing reigning tonight, Phil reaches out and strokes his hand over Dan’s knee. Just because it’s there; just because he can. He likes the texture of the lace under his fingers.
“How much would I have to pay you to let me see you in these?” Dan asks, taking a sip of his wine. Phil smiles at the way it leave little red marks on either side of his mouth.
He leans in to kiss the marks off. He hasn’t had a single sip and he already feels drunk on how pretty Dan is and how nice it feels to designate a night for romance and sap.
“Not really my style,” Phil says. He reaches forward to shut the burner off.
“We’ll find something that is,” Dan says.
He sounds confident about it. Phil grins a bit. He doesn’t mind this mission of Dan’s, not even when it involves things like hoodies with rips that he makes Phil leave on while Phil rides him. Sometimes being the victim and subject of Dan’s endless path of experimentation is downright fantastic, even.
Phil checks the pasta and finds it perfectly done. This time when Dan jumps up to help, Phil lets him. They both know how badly it can end when Phil’s left to deal with boiling water all on his own. There might have even been one date night, back in Manchester if Phil’s remembering right, that almost ended in a trip to A&E after an unfortunate meeting with his crotch and some still steaming rice water.
He does shoo Dan away when the touchy part is over. “I’ve got it. Let me treat you.”
“Spoil me, you mean.” Dan reaches out and tugs at the collar of Phil’s button up. Dan isn’t the only one who dressed for the occasion. It’s even the shirt with hearts on, because Phil’s never one to avoid meeting a nice theme head on. “I guess I’ll allow it.”
“It’ll be your turn next time.” It works best like this, they’ve found - taking turns bearing the brunt of date night responsibility. Sometimes it’s nice how they do it every day, usually making a meal together, but it’s nice to indulge each other without even needing a reason once in a while.
Dan makes a noise like he’s having an experience far better than Phil’s mum’s special sauce recipe when he takes the first bite. The food is good, sure, but - Dan’s tongue darting out to lick over his stained dark lips and the way his eyelashes seem so long and dark against his cheeks as they flutter shut and he groans even deeper.
“Dan,” Phil says, almost a chastisement. Dan knows what those sounds do to him.
“Phil.” He grins wickedly.
“You can’t sound like that when you look like that and expect me not to say fuck the food and let’s go straight to bed.”
Dan laughs, clearly pleased with himself. “I’m hungry,” he teases. “I’m appreciating your food.”
“Well shut up about it,” Phil grumbles, shoving twice as much pasta into his mouth as he can actually handle.
“You objectify me.”
“Yeah and you like it,” Phil counters.
Dan puts some more food in his mouth and keeps his eyes locked on Phil’s with a glint so cheeky Phil frowns. He knows something is coming but he’s still surprised when suddenly there’s the press of toes on his inner thigh sliding upwards.
“I hate you,” Phil mumbles, belying his statement entirely by spreading his legs a little wider so Dan can press his foot right to Phil’s crotch.
“Definitely,” Dan agrees.
Phil waits. He lets Dan think he’s actually going to let him get away with such merciless behavior. He takes a sip of wine and inches his hand down slowly so as not to raise suspicion. He waits until Dan looks away for a second to grab Dan’s foot and drag a finger up the bare sole.
Dan shrieks. “I will fucking murder you.”
“Not if I tickle you to death first.”
“You wouldn’t tickle me to death,” Dan says, confident. “Because you want to do things to me you wouldn’t do with a corpse.”
“You think?” Phil grins wickedly.
“First of all.” Dan points his fork at Phil. “Ew. Second of all, points for being off-brand levels of inappropriate.”
“I try,” Phil says, which is only half true. Most of the time it take no effort at all.
“Are you going to let go of my foot?” Dan asks.
Phil does, in fact, still have his fingers wrapped around it. He looks down appreciatively. “I like that colour.”
The nails are painted the same dark gray as Dan’s knit jumper.
Dan smiles, pleased. “I do, too.”
It’s always for Dan, these little things Dan does. But he still wants Phil to appreciate them. He still likes being noticed and praised, and Phil is hopelessly in love with all the things Dan does to let these parts of him he’s still sometimes muddling through the meaning of shine through.
The world can’t have these parts of Dan until Dan is ready, and he might never be. Phil’s just fine with that.
He notices Dan’s wineglass almost emptied. “Top up?” He asks, pressing his napkin to his mouth then pushing his chair back.
Dan’s foot stops back down to where it’s meant to be. “Please,” he says.
Phil brings the wine bottle back from the counter but pauses before he tips it to flow the liquid into Dan’s glass. “Tip your waiter with a kiss?”
Dan rolls his eyes. “I think it’s customary for gratuity to be paid after a meal?”
“Not if your waiter is cute,” Phil says with confidence.
Dan sighs dramatically and puckers his lips. Phil’s laughing when he takes his kiss, then fills the wine glass up three-quarters full. “You are cute, but you’re also well annoying.”
“Says the man who was trying to give me a footjob just to watch me suffer,” Phil says as he sits back down.
Dan feigns offence. “Suffer? How dare.”
“I don’t have a foot thing.”
“Maybe not,” Dan says. “But I’m pretty sure you have a thing for getting your dick touched.”
Phil rolls his eyes. “Like you don’t.”
“Yeah but you get all red in the face when it happens anywhere other than in bed with the lights off. It’s adorable.”
“That is not true,” Phil protests. “I like it with the lights on so I can see your butt.” He sticks out his tongue sheepishly.
Dan shakes his head a little. “Have we always been this stupid?”
“You have, definitely.”
“Shut up or I’ll give you an actual footjob, Lester.”
Phil sits back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks at Dan thoughtfully and says, “There’s no way you could make me come with just your foot.”
“Feet,” Dan corrects. “I’m allowed to use both. And you’re dead fucking wrong.”
“A hundred pounds,” Phil says confidently. It’s possible he lets himself get carried away with stuff like this, but Dan just makes it too easy.
“You’re on,” Dan says, leaning across the table and holding his hand out for Phil to shake. “But not tonight. We’re supposed to be on a date.”
“Where is it written that date sex has to be vanilla?” Phil waggles his eyebrows.
“On the ancient tome of your mum,” Dan says.
“Did you just call my mum an ancient tome? I’m going to tell her you said that.”
“No, you won’t.” Dan takes another bite. “Because she’d ask for context and you’d spontaneously burst into flames before telling your mum it had to do with our sex life.”
Phil huffs. “I don’t think you’d exactly run to tell your mum you were talking about her during a conversation about our sex life, either.”
“Of course not,” Dan says. “But for different reasons. Your mum would be scandalized. Mine would just want to give us sex advice. She’d be all like, Daniel, are you using maternal issues to deflect from physical intimacy because you know erectile dysfunction is a perfectly normal-”
“Dan.” Phil whines. “Not while I’m eating.”
“Exactly.” Dan nods, satisfied.
“New rule,” Phil says. “No more mum talk during date nights, or else we’ll fail.”
“Are you role playing us as Sims again?” Dan asks. “Because I keep telling you, date nights don’t have actual goals like that.”
“What about vanilla sex?” Phil challenges him.
“That’s not the same thing.” Dan takes a drink of his wine.
Even his hair looks nicer than normal, Phil notices. He must have put some kind of product in it, but it still looks soft and glossy and bouncy. It’s gotten a bit longer than normal. He wonders how long Dan would let it get before cutting it - not too long, he thinks, but maybe just enough to need to clip it back…
“Phil.” Dan sounds amused. “Did I lose you?”
“What?” Phil scoops up more pasta, like he can pretend that was distracting him, even though Dan clearly knows it wasn’t. “No, I’m here.”
“Uh huh.” Dan’s plate is empty. Phil’s surprised to realize his almost is too.
“Dessert?” He asks, hopeful but also trailing off. “Or…”
He’s always hopeful about dessert. But he’s also always hopeful about sex. Sometimes even being a man of simple pleasure-based needs is impossibly difficult.
“We didn’t even watch a movie yet.”
“Who cares,” Phil says.”
“I care. Date night,” Dan reminds him. “Dinner and a movie.”
“We can make our own movie,” Phil says without actually thinking about it.
Dan’s mouth drops open. Phil wants to take it back but he also kind of… doesn’t.
“You won’t even send me nudes and now you wanna make a sex tape?”
“I send you nudes.”
“Snapchat doesn’t count.”
“What?” Phil says indignantly. “Yes it does.”
“It doesn’t,” Dan insists. “You don’t let me screenshot. I might as well just use my imagination.”
Phil pouts. “Excuse me for not wanting my cock all over the internet someday.”
Dan smirks. “Mate, have you ever looked at tumblr? It practically already is.”
Phil hides his face in his hands. “The one time I forget to wear underwear for gaming and it’s during a stream.”
Dan snorts. “One time. Sure.”
Phil stands up and collects their plates. “Come on, horrible boy. Let’s go watch a stupid boring cock-less movie.”
“I didn’t say the movie had to be cock-less,” Dan points out. “But sure, have it your way.”
“Hey, wait-” Phil’s tries to argue but Dan’s already ignoring him and setting it up.
Dan does already have a movie in mind, and Phil doesn’t really want to argue it. He knows Dan puts a lot of thought into what sorts of films they watch when they’re having date nights and he loves the glimpse into Dan’s mind.
Tonight it’s a Dutch film. They both have to pay attention to the subtitles, but it’s a story about two boys falling in love with each other and Phil has to work not to cry at some of the more poignant moments. It just feels right like this, with Dan curled into his body warm and sweet and made up of all the complexities of a person who never feels like he fits all the way into any one category.
To Phil, there’s nothing wrong with going to the cinema and watching a movie where in the end of the boy gets the girl. That’s how the world works most of the time and they both know that. It doesn’t bother him and he doesn’t think it bothers Dan either, mostly. But on nights like tonight they get to be themselves and it just adds a perfect touch to watch a film where the boy doesn’t want the girl, the boy wants another boy.
“Pause it?” Phil says, during a transition between scenes.
He needs a wee and they’ve still got some wine left to finish off.
When he comes back with damp, freshly washed hands and two glasses along with the rest of the bottle to keep nearby, he finds Dan’s fetched his furry soft blanket for them.
“Sit,” Dan says, and waits until Phil’s settled in to climb comfortably over Phil until they’ve achieved perfection in cuddle form.
Phil likes it this way so much, Dan’s long legs stretched over his lap and Dan’s body angled perfectly into his arms. He runs one hand up the softly textured surface of Dan’s legging-wrapped thigh, pushing under the jumper. He breathes in deeply, catching more traces of the perfume.
“Behave,” Dan says, but he doesn’t make Phil move his hand this time, not even when he hits play again.
“You make me sound like a puppy,” Phil giggles.
“‘Cause you are one, now shush.”
Phil traces shapes through the hair on Dan’s belly as they watch. He’s impressed by Dan’s restraint at watching the film and sipping his wine while knowing Phil is above averagely ready to take his clothes off and have his way.
Dan has grown up so much, and Phil’s been noticing it a lot lately. In all the ways that really matter he’s the same person he’s always been. He’s got the same spark of Dan that Phil fell in love with all those years ago, but in so many ways he’s completely transformed himself and tonight Phil’s a little tipsy and a lot happy and he sits here in awe of how proud he is.
They’ve grown up together. Sometimes that realization hits him like it’s a physical thing, snatching the air from his lungs like a punch to the chest. They were barely more than children in the beginning, terrified but still so willing to jump headfirst into a life together that would be so hard at times Phil wasn’t sure how the hell they were going to make it.
But they did, they always did and now they’re here and Phil’s pride and joy warms him from the inside out. They’re adults now. They’ve shaped each other into the people they are today.
Phil wonders if Dan would still wear lace if he’d never met Phil. He likes to think he would; he wants to think Dan would have found himself and accepted this beautiful sense of fluidity even without Phil, but he’s glad things have worked out the way they have. He’s so glad to be the one who gets to support Dan on this journey and every other. He’s glad Dan was patient with him through all the times he didn’t understand it himself.
He’s still not sure he can say with confidence that he understands it, but sometimes being an adult is about accepting things you can’t understand and embracing them anyway.
He accepts whatever Dan needs to feel welcome in his own body. He embraces the aspects of Dan’s identity that diverge from easy explanations, just like Dan does for him.
Dan cries as he watches the film’s final act. Phil cries because Dan cries, and maybe also a little because their own happy ending goes against what so many on this earth would wish for them. He tries not to let such thoughts into his head but sometimes he can’t help it. Even just the simple fact of Dan being the person Phil shares his body and his soul and his life with is considered divergent by people with small minds and hate in their hearts.
“Why do you always choose films that make us cry?” Phil asks, wiping the moisture from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.
“It’s a happy cry, asshole.” Dan sniffles. “And it’s good for you. Tears encourage catharsis. It’s science.”
Phil laughs wetly. “I love you.”
“No!” Dan whines. “Don’t be sweet! I’m just going to cry more!”
Phil wraps his arms tight around Dan and forces him into a bear hug that Dan doesn’t even resist at all. Dan sinks into it instead. Phil doesn’t know if Dan is clinging for the same reasons he is, but it feels good and right in the moment.
“I love you too,” Dan eventually whispers, pulling back a bit. His lips look soft and inviting and Phil knows just what to do with them, leaning in for a kiss that goes open and wet after just a moment of dancing around it chastely.
“Dan.” Phil sighs, their foreheads pressed together and lips still brushing ticklishly.
Dan’s fingers scratch across the back of his head. His lips look more their natural color now after an evening of wine glasses and food and now the kissing. “Phil,” he whispers back, smiling. “Come on. Let’s go to bed now.”
They get to their feet, fingers still tangled together. It’s a short trip from the lounge to their bed, but Phil spends it all admiring the leggings and even more how he gets to take them off now.
Yeah, Phil thinks. That’s what he wants. That’s the outlet he wants both for the physical feelings, the tactile need, and what’s living loud and vibrant in his heart right now.