Chapter Text
Dan
“Hey Phil. Phil.” *kick* “Phiiiiiiiiil.” *kick* “Philly.” *kick*
Dan whispers, giving Phil’s chair a final kick in a desperate attempt to get his stand partner’s attention.
He sighs. All I need is a pencil, goddamnit. Why won’t he just LOOK OVER.
He stares at Phil, hoping he can telepathically force him to look his way. No such luck. Phil continues to stare straight ahead at the director, who’s going on about their new marching show and needing to practice over the summer.
Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.
He leans towards Phil’s ear, nudging him on the shoulder.
“Mister Lester” he says, mustering the deepest voice possible.
Phil jumps, immediately turning to look at Dan with wide eyes. His subtlety bites his lip, cheeks starting to turn faintly pink. He promptly shakes his head.
“What do you want, Mister Howell? We’re supposed to be listening to directions.”
“Calm your tits dude. I forgot a pencil. Do you have one?”
Phil rolls his eyes. “For the millionth time Dan, you need to bring a pencil. I can’t just keep giving you all of mine. They’re special.”
He reaches under his chair and fumbles around before pulling out a pencil and handing it to Dan, his attention already drifting back to the director.
Dan takes the pencil, smiling at the familiar pattern. The pencil is pale blue and covered in tiny cartoon corgis, each posing a different way. It’s one of the little quirky things that makes Phil just so, Phil. Like those stupid NASA vans that he loves so much, and is currently wearing with a bright yellow t-shirt that says “try new things” and his usual pair of black skinny jeans.
Wait a minute. Hold up. Are those….. Rips?! Holy heck is Phil Lester really out here wearing ripped jeans? When did that become a thing. Not that I’m complaining.
Dan looks at his legs and the generous tears adorning them, with bigger rips on the knees and smaller ones above, going up dangerously high on his thighs. He swallows.
Damn. He has really nice legs. Objectively. Obviously objectively. I should probably stop staring at his legs.
He reluctently forces his attention from the small patches of skin on Phil’s legs to the trumpet he has laid across his lap.
Lucky bastard has a silver trumpet. Maybe that’s why he’s first chair. Not that it really matters, I mean we’re in the lowest band anyway. Plus I’m already second chair. And it’s literally the end of the year. I hope we still get to be stand partners when we move up to Concert band next year. Even though if we aren’t it could be worse. Phil could have moved up to Symphonic band to be with all the super good people. He could go make a silver trumpet club. And leave me down here with my boring brass colored trumpet that’s not aesthetic at all. But if he had a brass colored trumpet it really would clash with that yellow shirt he’s wearing. We can’t have that. He deserves the silver trumpet. That yellow shirt looks really good on him. It fits reeallly well. And the small black writing on it totally goes with his black hair. The quiff really just completes the whole thing. He has really nice hair. Even though like, who can dye it for as long as he has and still have hair that’s not completely fried. It must be magical. I kinda want to touch it. Just one poke. You can kinda see his ginger roots growing back in.
“Dan! Daaaaan. Earth to Dan.”
Dan looks back towards his face.
Oh yea. Band class. I need to stop zoning out.
Hey, his eyes look really nice today. They’re like green and blue and yellow at the same time. And kinda grey too. Why does he have such long eyelashes that isn’t fair-
“Dan! Are you even in there?”
He shakes his head abruptly, breaking his thought process.
“Uh ya. Sorry, I just zoned out for a second there. What’s up.”
“A second!? Bruh, I think you went to another planet and back. Anyways, we just got music passed out. It’s the Avengers theme. Apparently we get to play it in the stands.”
“Yessss! I mean it’s like, really cool but I don’t know if I’m emotionally prepared for this. Endgame has me dead- Oh, we’re on first part! I got so used to playing a lower part last season that I completely forgot we got to play first this year.” Dan takes his music off the stand and begins to read it over, looking through the key signature and details and singing through his part in his head.
“Honestly same. I don’t know if I’m prepared to play these notes.” Phil peers closer at the paper, then turns to Dan and jabs at a spot in the middle of the music. “What even is this note?! Have we even played anything that high? And it’s fortissississimo too!”
Dan sits slightly leaned over with his cheek propped on his hand, and looks up from the music he was reading over to watch Phil as he rambles on, waving his hands about as he speaks.
It’s endearing. I wonder if he knows about that sparkle he gets in his eyes when he’s passionately talking about something. Not that I would have noticed if I weren’t looking him in the eye when he speaks, which is just polite. I’m just being polite. Ya. Totally platonically polite.
“...which is weird, and is it even possible for anyone to be that loud?!” Phil finishes with a sigh.
“Your mom” Dan replies seamlessly.
Phil thwacks him on the arm. “Come onnnnnnn. I doubt you were even listening to half of that.”
“No no I heard everything. The music is weird, trumpet is weird, you’re weird, your mom’s…”
Phil thwacks him again. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”
Dan lifts an eyebrow, giving Phil a competitive glare. You wanna go bro? It’s on. He lightly shoves Phil on the shoulder with both hands, making him rock back a little bit. Phil stares at him, wide eyed and open mouthed, and pushes back. Dan stifles a laugh as he pushes him back, causing Phil to start silently laughing, his tongue ever so slightly sticking out the side of his mouth. Phil gives Dan a final push, nearly knocking him into the person to his left who is obliviously talking to their friends.
“Howell! Lester!” The band director, Mrs. Caroline Stewart, shouts over the class, causing everyone to fall silent.
Dan and Phil immediately straighten in their chairs, although Dan promptly kicks Phil’s shin, and Phil smirks at him from the corner of his eye.
This isn’t over yet.
“Are you two done shoving each other or should we put off rehearsing our music so you can finish your little Dan vs. Phil?” She teases, her voice full of mirth.
Dan and Phil stare abashedly back at her, and a clarinetist snorts from somewhere up in the first row.
Hey, it’s not my fault you’re too uptight to have a good time.
“That’s what I thought. Alright, Avengers, from the beginning. We’re taking way under performance tempo to begin with.” Mrs. Stewart raises her baton. Dan lifts his trumpet to playing position, and immediately plays the wrong note, earning a pointed look from Mrs. Stewart and a roll of the eyes from Phil.
Shit. Oops. Stupid key signature.
-
They finish rehearsal 30 seconds after class is supposed to end (as per usual). Dan turns to Phil as they rush to pack away their instruments and music.
“What class do you have next?”
“Spanish, Dan. I’ve literally told you that like every day this year. Hey, finals start tomorrow, right?”
“Hey! It’s not my fault I can barely remember my own schedule. And yes, you idiot, finals start tomorrow. If you don’t know that by now, you’re literally for sure screwed.”
They pick up their stuff and make their way to the hallway.
“No no I’ve definitely studied I just wanted to…. make sure I guess?”
“Well I mean we only have three days left what else do you think - hey, dude, watch where you’re going, that kid was definitely on something - what else do you think we’d be doing?”
“Good point fine I’m an idiot blah blah blah. Ughhhhhh I don’t want to go to Spanish. Don’t leave me Danielllllll.”
“As much as I’d like to not, I think it would look bad to skip class on the fourth to last day of school, Phillip. But good luck, and don’t forget to text me!” Dan shouts as they part ways to go to their second hour classes. He pulls out his phone. 9:00 am.
SHIT. I have one minute to get to chemistry and Mr. Wilbur will literally murder me if I’m late. Why are we always let out of band class so late. Ugh.
He speed walks down the hallway, reaching his chemistry classroom and pushing open the door just as the final bell rings.
Phil
Phil sighs as he takes his assigned seat in Spanish class, lazily throwing his backpack on the floor next to his desk.
For god’s sake who even makes you sit at assigned tables anymore what are we like five or something?
The teacher, who’s a young 20-something pretty much just out of college, begins her awkward introduction to the class.
“¡Buenos días clase! Tienes un examen de español mañana. ¡No teléfonos, Jonny! Valí…”
Phil mentally groans and tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling.
I need some random machine to teleport me out of this class. Please. I’ll go anywhere.
It’s literally the day before exams why can’t we just study like everyone else? Why do I have to be all alert and attentive and participate I’m so tired of this class ugh. I wonder what Dan’s doing in bio. Probably studying like a normal person or something.
Bored out of his mind, Phil finds himself replaying the past hour of band class in his head. Most of it is nothing new: easy music, entertaining people, a lot of waiting to play while the trumpets on third part were pretty much taught how to play their instruments, and a lot of witty banter with Dan. What more could you expect from Varsity band?
His brain chooses that moment to replay a specific moment from the past hour. Phil had just given Dan another one of his prized corgi pencils-
seriously, that boy needs to start remembering his own pencil-
and Phil was trying to listen to what Mrs. Stewart was saying. However, he found himself half-staring at Dan out of the corner of his eye.
I can’t help it! He’s hot, okay?! And funny, and cute, and…
He watched as Dan raked his eyes up his body, starting at his feet and making their way up to his torso. Phil blushes at the memory.
Was I really paying so much attention to Mrs. Stewart that I didn’t notice that until now?! Am I sure it even happened?!
The Avengers music was then passed out, and Phil busied himself with section-leader duties, making sure everyone had their own copy. He turned to Dan, trying to get his attention,
man, he really does zone out a lot
just to be greeted by Dan staring directly at his eyes. His gaze flickered between his eyes and his lips and his eyes again before Dan shook his head slightly and refocused.
Holy shit. Holy- he was totally checking me out, wasn’t he? He was literally checking me out. How, and why, would Dan, my literal best friend, who’s literally perfect in every way, be checking me out. Dan, with the cute dimple and the perfect curly hair and the contagious laugh and the most attractive body and the sweetest personality and-
PHIL
SHUT UP
This is literally the. Last. Thing. You need to be thinking about the day before final exams. You need to-
“Hey Phil!” His friend PJ slides into the now empty desk next to him, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“Hey PJ. Ugh, what do we have to do now? I totally wasn’t paying attention.”
“Apparently we have to do some stupid worksheet.” PJ says, dramatically slapping the paper down on Phil’s desk. “Looks like a partner activity. That’s why I’m allowed to be over here.”
“Oh, goody,” Phil retorts sarcastically.
“Ready to get completely yeeted in a game of Spanish battleship?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow.
This is going to be a lonnnnnnnnng day.