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“What about this one?”
Phil lifts a mug for inspection. Dan squints at it. It’s not anything special or meaningful, just a plain blue ceramic one with little yellow stars. He shrugs. “Donate it.”
Phil nods and puts it in the ‘donate’ pile, which has a measly four mugs in it compared to the ‘keep’ pile that is probably somewhere close to 15 mugs.
“I think we should go back through those ones. We don’t need that many coffee cups for just the two of us.”
“These are meaningful, though!” Phil picks up the NASA mug they’d gotten in Florida. Dan’s NASA mug, because Phil’s had broken on the trip home and Dan hadn’t cared enough to stop him from claiming it as his own. “These are our memories!”
He rolls his eyes; leave it to Phil to be dramatic about a cup that’s only worth about five pounds and he uses every three months.
“Whatever you say, dear.” Dan moves to a different cupboard, pulling the plates and bowls down.
-
They only spend another twenty minutes going through the cupboards before they both become a bit bored and decide to pause and move to a different room.
The gaming room is next. It’s not dusty and full of cobwebs like their audience probably thinks. It’s clean, in a sense, ignoring the papers and knicknacks crowded around and the empty glasses that they never bothered to take to the sink.
“I’m kinda gonna miss this room,” Phil ponders, sitting on the computer chair and starting to shuffle through the papers.
Dan shrugs. He’s never been the type of person to get attached to places, or houses. For him, home is a much more arbitrary concept. Home is blue eyes and black hair that’s beginning to show a little gray. Wide shoulders and a beaky nose - that’s home for him.
He snaps out of his reverie when Phil hands him a stack of papers. “This is the tax stuff from last year. It needs to go in the taxes folder.”
Dan sighs loudly, taking the papers to their office space, where Dan’s filming set sits actually dusty. He files them in their filing cabinet, because Phil is a real adult and knows how to keep things organized and safe, unlike Dan, who would rather just shove them behind a bookcase and hope they don’t need them later.
-
He goes back to the gaming room and flops down on the sofa.
“You’re not gonna get much done from there,” Phil tells him, still sorting through the papers.
“Yeah, but I’m tired.”
Phil does stop then, swiveling around in his chair to face Dan. “Wanna take a nap?”
“No, I just feel unmotivated.”
“Let’s go make some lunch, then.”
He stands and offers his hand to Dan. He takes it, a smile tugging at his lips as he stands.
-
Phil is digging through the fridge, trying to scrape together enough ingredients to make them sandwiches while Dan sits at the table and scrolls on his phone. It’s not the most productive thing to do, especially when they have boxes and boxes to pack, but he’s got a headache building and just doesn’t really feel like doing anything.
“Looks like we’re having hummus and brussel sprout sandwiches,” Phil says removing his head from the fridge and holding up the supplies.
Dan makes a face. “That’s really all we have?”
Phil nods, putting everything on the counter and leaning against it. “We don’t have much. There’s no point in buying a bunch of groceries when we’re moving in a week.”
A week. It’s hard to believe that in just a week they will say goodbye to the flat that has been their home for two years. They knew, though, when they rented it that it would be temporary. If that stupid house they tried to buy before the last tour hadn’t been haunted, it wouldn’t have even been necessary, but Dan’s grown fond of it, with its curved walls and modern layout. Yeah, it’s not too bad.
“Should we just get pizza or something?”
Dan rubs his temples and closes his eyes. Normally it’s Phil with the throbbing head, but today he’s giving Phil a run for his money with the way his head feels like it’s in a vice grip.
“You okay?” Phil sits down next to him at the table, food forgotten, and rubs his back slowly.
“Just a headache.” He doesn’t want to complain because he knows that Phil has much worse ones. If he said that out loud, though, Phil would tell him he was being stupid, and he knows that is a bit stupid, but he can’t help the way his brain works sometimes.
“I know that you’re probably thinking that it shouldn’t matter because I have bad headaches, but you’re allowed to have them too, you know?”
It makes Dan laugh. Of course Phil knows exactly what he’s thinking, as if it was written on his forehead. He leans into Phil’s touch, resting against his side and laying his head on his shoulder. It’s bony and a bit uncomfortable, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s the warmth of his body, the slightly sweet smell of his cologne, and the way Phil’s heart beats steady when Dan moves his hand to place over it that matters.
“Let’s take a nap,” Phil offers, placing his hand over Dan’s where it’s still resting on his chest.
“Okay.”
-
When Dan wakes up, his headache is still there, pounding away with no change. He blinks his eyes open slowly, squeezing his arms where they are curled around one of Phil’s biceps. Phil is wide awake, eyes moving from his phone to peer down to Dan. He’s sure that his hair is an absolute nest given how Phil’s is grinning down at him.
“Feel any better?”
Dan shakes his head but soon stops, given how much worse it makes his head throb.
Phil gives him a look of understanding and sets his phone down to card a hand through Dan’s mess of curls. “I have an idea. Stay here.”
He doesn’t give Dan a chance to ask what he’s on about before Phil stands and presses a quick kiss to his cheek before leaving the room.
Dan lays there for a second, still confused and surprised by Phil’s sudden departure, but his head pounds again, so he nuzzles back into his pillow and rests his eyes until Phil come back and tells him what’s going on.
-
Distantly he can hear Phil’s voice coaxing him awake and the pressure of his hand on Dan’s cheek, so he lets his eyes flutter open and is rewarded with Phil’s wide grin.
“Come with me.” He’s offering the hand not pressed to Dan’s cheek to help him sit up, so Dan takes it and lets Phil lead him out of the room, downstairs and out on to their balcony, where a blanket and a spread of Greek food is laid out.
“What?” He turns to Phil who is smiling so wide it nearly takes up his whole face.
“It’s a picnic!” His enthusiasm is so catching Dan can’t help smiling back.
They take their seats on the ground, and Dan expects it to be hard and rough, but Phil’s brought out what looks like nearly every blanket they own and made a proper cushioned spot.
Phil dishes up the food on the mismatched, chipped plates they had decided to donate. It’s all his favorite foods, even the ones that Phil doesn’t particularly like. Dan’s heart feels so full of love and gratitude, he has to look away from Phil before he cries.
“Everything okay?” Phil asks, nudging his arm with the heaping plate of food.
Dan takes the plate and shakes his head a bit. He doesn’t have a chance to explain before Phil’s expression drops. “What’s wrong? Is it still your head?”
Tears fall, fat and wet, and stream before he has a chance to stop them. Phil looks stricken and takes the plate out of Dan’s hand before it can fall and crawls over to him, wrapping his long arms around Dan’s shoulders.
“‘S nothing bad,” Dan hiccups, tucking his face into Phil’s neck. “Just happy.”
Phil, not a stranger to Dan’s sometimes off kilter way of showing happiness, just breathes a sigh of relief and gives him a squeeze before loosening his grip.
“That’s a good thing, right?”
He nods and wipes the tears and snot off his face. He knows Phil really loves him because he doesn’t even bat an eye about the less than attractive way he’s made a mess of himself.
“I’m just glad I have you. I love you a lot.”
It’s not the whole thing, not really. Dan’s got days and days worth of things he could say that he’s glad about, thankful for. But he doesn’t want to waste the sunshine on tears, so he rubs his face one more time and takes a gulp of breath to steady himself.
Further proving that Phil knows him better than anyone, he lets Dan finish gathering himself before leaning forward and kissing him; it’s slow and soft, and it encompasses everything Dan was trying to articulate.
“I love you, too,” Phil says simply. Phil’s not one for lots of words or needless exclamations of love and devotion. For him, it’s enough to simply know that Dan is his as he is Dan’s.
“Thank you for this.”
He just nods and hands his plate back, pushing the pile of dips Dan’s way.
“Did you get Skordalia?”
Phil rolls his eyes and sorts through the pile before handing him the tiny container. “Of course.”
Dan kisses him again; he’s happy, and the sun is out, and he loves this tall nerd so much he can’t contain it any longer.
“Okay, enough tears and declarations of love. I need some Greek food in this hole asap.”
“You’re so gross,” Dan says, without venom. Phil sticks his tongue out in response and sets about making his own plate.
They eat and talk, soaking in the sun that is likely to disappear from view tomorrow, and it’s just as about close to perfect as it could be. They can worry about the boxes and still-cluttered cupboards tomorrow.