Work Text:
It all starts because Phil says he’s going to miss having his grandma’s homemade baking this Christmas.
It’s been a bit of a somber day. Phil’s spent much of the afternoon tucked quietly in their office, going through old photos on his computer. He’d originally been trying to find a picture of himself as a kid to put in an upcoming video, but he’d gotten sidetracked by old family photos.
Dan’s poked his head into the study every so often to check up on him and offer him a refill of coffee. He looks sad. Dan knows he misses his grandma a lot, and this first Christmas without her will be hard.
It’s starting to get dark outside. Dan heads into the office again and lays a gentle hand on Phil’s shoulder. He’s not looking at photos anymore, but he’s curled up in the chair, looking smaller than normal. Dan empathizes. He’s never lost anyone super close to him, but he gets that some days are just sad.
“Hey,” Dan says softly.
“Hi.”
“Take a break?” Dan asks.
Phil nods and closes his laptop, following Dan out into the lounge. It’s a bit chilly, so Dan covers them with a blanket. They sit quietly together for a while.
“Sorry I’m sad today,” Phil says.
“Phil.”
“I know. I shouldn’t say sorry for stuff like this.” Phil sighs. “It’s just, even though it’s almost been a year now, sometimes I can’t stop thinking of the stupidest things that I realize that I’m going to miss about her. Like how she would call me Philip, or how I’m going to miss her baking this Christmas.”
“I don’t think those things are stupid. And your grandma was an amazing baker.”
Phil pets at the furry blanket covering them. “It’s not like there won’t be dessert. Mum’ll bake, of course, and some of my cousins and aunties will too. But Grandma always helped. It won’t be the same.”
Dan puts an arm around Phil and draws him closer. There’s nothing he can really say or do besides listen to Phil, because he’s right. It won’t be the same.
“You know what I want?” Phil says finally. “A frickin’ mince pie.”
“Did your grandma make good mince pies?”
Phil frowns, thinking. “Probably? It’s not really because of her. I just want one.”
Dan laughs fondly. “You’re so strange.”
---
The next day, Dan goes to Asda to pick up some toothpaste. He’s got it in his hands and is about to head to the checkout, when he impulsively decides to make his way to the bakery section. They don’t have their full selection of Christmas snacks yet, seeing as November’s barely started, but they do have a small package of mince pies, which he buys.
When he arrives home and places the pies on the kitchen counter, Phil looks at the box like Christmas has come early.
“You’re my favourite person ever. Gimme one.”
“Get it yourself, you lazy oaf,” Dan laughs, but he complies, opening the package and handing Phil one of the little pies.
There’s four in the box, and they proceed to eat the whole lot between them.
“You’re the actual best,” Phil sighs, brushing stray crumbs off his jumper.
“I know.”
Phil smacks him playfully. “Y’know what we should do?”
“Buy another box?”
“Well, sort of. What if we buy pies from every shop and see who makes the best one? The Great British Bake Off of supermarkets.”
Dan raises an eyebrow. “Is this just an excuse for you to eat loads of pie, Phil?”
“Of course not! It’s so we’ll know which ones to buy next year.”
It’s actually a good idea, Dan thinks. Damn Phil and his sweet tooth. “Okay. But if we do it, we’ve got to do it right. Proper ratings and everything.”
And so The Mince Pie Codex is born.
It’s a document that resides on Phil’s laptop, unassuming but overly complicated, because it’s them. They can’t do things halfway, apparently.
As if they’re professional taste testers or something, they’ve come up with an official rating system that involves six evaluative categories.
“Is this the most extra thing we’ve ever done?” Phil says, looking at their finished spreadsheet, which is colour-coded and has maths functions built into its cells.
Dan thinks back on how they’ve danced in sequined jackets, dressed up for a Sim’s birthday, and had a funeral for a shrimp.
“Yeah. I think this might be up there.”
Of all Phil’s weird, wonderful project ideas, Dan thinks that this might be the most delicious one. He’s not complaining one bit when it means he gets to eat this much pie. Judging new types becomes a weekly treat for them, or else a reward when they’ve had a particularly productive day.
Phil had wanted to get right to the pies at the more expensive supermarkets, because he argued that they’d probably taste better.
“But if we eat the ones we think are going to be bland first, we’ll be able to enjoy the expensive ones better,” Dan had countered.
Phil had rolled his eyes at that. “Fine. We can stop at Tesco later today.”
By the time November’s drawn to a close, they’ve gotten through Sainsbury’s pies (which had tasty filling but bland pastry), Tesco’s pies (which had a pretty lattice top, but were underwhelming and dry), and the Co-op’s pies (not bad, just mediocre in both texture and flavour).
---
Life’s not all about trying baked goods though, and December begins in a flurry of planning out Gamingmas, filming videos, doing liveshows, and buying gifts. It’s stressful in the best way.
Dan’s admittedly a bit distracted right now. He’s trying his best to edit videos, but he can hear Phil in the other room, laughing with his parents over FaceTime and making holiday plans. It’s nice hearing him happy, but it’s making it hard to concentrate.
An hour into his conversation, Phil pokes his head around the corner.
“Hi. My mum wants to know if you’d like to spend a bit of time up north with us before you head home.”
Dan turns around in his chair. “Really?”
“No, it’s a trap. My mum secretly hates you and is only asking so she can finally push you off a cliff into the sea.”
“Fuck off, your mum loves me,” Dan says. “Of course I want to go home with you.”
“Okay, I’ll tell her,” Phil says, already heading back into the other room to his FaceTime chat.
“Do you think they’d let me stay for the whole of the holidays?” He’s technically joking- he still needs to see his nana and Colin. But still. It would be nice. He doesn’t particularly fancy having to leave to go back to his own family home.
Phil turns back around, soft expression on his face. “You know they would.”
“Nah, I’m joking.” His stomach clenches. “I do have to see my family sometime.”
After Phil leaves, any bit of concentration Dan had is gone. Eventually, he switches over from his editing window and reluctantly looks at train ticket prices.
---
Even though December is busy as hell, Dan thinks it might be his favourite time of the year. When he’s not working, Dan tries his very best to absorb himself the warm feeling of spending another Christmas season with Phil. He loves the nostalgic feeling he gets at the start of winter. It makes him think back on their first couple years living together in Manchester, of how they ate too many biscuits, watched films, and kissed while their rave tree twinkled in the background.
This year, they get a real tree delivered by a driver. Phil was dismayed by the fact that the driver wasn’t wearing a kilt as advertised. But the tree is handsome and makes their flat smell like pine, so Dan’s not complaining.
Their flat feels decidedly more festive now, especially once they haul their box of baubles and tinsel out of the closet and decorate the tree up. Dan lies contentedly on their sofa, gazing at the fairy lights on the tree. It’s been a good day.
“It’s so cozy in here now,” Phil says as he comes back into the room with two steaming mugs of tea.
Dan smiles up at him. “It really is.”
“And I’ve got an early Christmas gift, just for you,” Phil says with a cheeky grin. “You’ll never guess what it is.”
“If you say it’s your dick, I’m making you sleep on this sofa.”
Phil laughs. “It’s not my dick, promise. Though maybe later?”
Dan rolls his eyes at the hopeful tone in Phil’s voice. “You horndog. Give me my surprise.”
“I’ll be right back.” Phil heads out of the room, returning shortly with a box of mince pies. “Ta-da! I thought we’d celebrate getting the flat all decorated. They’re from Mark’s & Spencer.”
“Wow. Feeling fancy, are we?”
“Yup.” Phil looks excited as he pulls a pie out. “Oh, they’ve got little snowflakes on top!”
“You try it first,” Dan says, and he watches as Phil takes the first bite and moans.
“Oh my god. Dan. I think this might be better than sex.”
“Should I be offended by that?”
“Yes. This pie is my new boyfriend now,” Phil says, before taking another giant bite.
“You and your new boyfriend have some fucking weird foreplay,” Dan says, then grabs the pie from Phil and takes a bite. “Oh my god. I think I see what you mean. It’s so good.”
“We could have a threesome with the pie.”
“This is literally the worst conversation we’ve ever had.”
(Nevertheless, the M&S pie gets ranked the highest they’ve had yet.)
---
Gamingmas goes smoothly, until it doesn’t.
“Why did we ever decide that making a video every day was a good idea? Didn’t we learn our lesson last year?” grumbles Dan. Or at least, he tries to. His stupid laryngitis makes his voice crack and squeak like he’s going through puberty. He’s currently lying in bed with a headache, exhausted from the day.
“I shouldn’t have let you do the video today,” Phil says. “I’m sorry.”
“Nah. I said I wanted to do it. Did it end up good?”
Phil smiles. “I think it’s my favourite Gamingmas video yet. It’s so funny, Dan. I was laughing so much when I was editing it.”
“Good.”
“I also went out while you were asleep. I got you some noodle soup, and some new pie to try.”
“I’m not sure pie cures laryngitis, Phil.”
“It does. You’ll see. You stay right here. I’m feeding you dinner in bed.”
Dan wants to snap back that he’s sick and not about to go anywhere, but his head hurts, and he’s too tired to be sarcastic.
When Phil comes back a few minutes later, he’s carrying a bowl of steaming soup and a plate with two pies on it.
“I went to Waitrose- thought they might have good vegan soup choices.”
“You really splashed out for me, huh?” They don’t shop at Waitrose much, mostly out of habit of going to other supermarkets when they were students. Even though they can afford it nowadays, they’ve never lived particularly close to one.
Dan eats his soup quietly. It feels good, warming his throat as he swallows. Phil keeps him company, playing a game on his phone.
When Dan’s done, he sets his bowl aside. “Okay, Phil. Give me a pie.”
“I bet these are going to be good,” Phil says, sounding excited. “I paid four quid for them.”
To their dismay though, it’s not going to be the best-rated pie on their list.
“Does it say something about my tastes that I liked the cheap Asda ones a lot better?” asks Phil sadly.
“Pastry’s not bad on these though.” Dan says. He finishes his last bite of pie and brushes crumbs off his front. He feels sleepy. “We’ll rate it properly tomorrow, okay? Don’t eat the rest of them while I’m sleeping.”
Phil presses a kiss to his forehead. “No promises.”
Dan fortunately regains his voice the next day, and the rest of the week goes smoother. They film the rest of their videos, and then spend a few long days in serious editing mode.
By the time their last day in London rolls around, Dan’s eyes hurt, and Phil’s not even bothered to put in his contacts. It’s a long day of editing, but they’re determined to get everything finished up before they leave for the Isle of Man. They’re having fun doing Gamingmas, but it’s really stressful having to edit videos so frequently. He’s not sure how some of the other YouTubers do it.
They finally wrap things up at around three in the morning and fall into bed, exhausted but pleased at how much they’ve gotten done.
“I’m so excited,” Phil whispers into the dark. “It feels like tomorrow’s Christmas already.”
“Go to sleep, Phil.” (Dan’s just as excited, if he’s being honest.)
---
Going to see the Lesters always feels like coming home. Both Phil’s parents smile widely when they open the door for them, and they each give him big hugs.
“I wish I had curls like yours,” Kath says, ruffling at Dan’s hair.
“Well, I wish I had your fancy headband,” Dan says, gesturing at the one Kath’s wearing. It’s got two springy antennas, each topped with little Santa faces. She smiles fondly, takes it off, and slides it onto Dan’s head.
“Cute,” Phil snickers, batting at one of Dan’s new antennas. Dan resists the urge to flip him off, because they’re in front of Phil’s parents, but he secretly loves the ridiculousness of it all.
He’s sort of repressing the fact that he has to leave this place in a few days. Being on this little island refreshes him. Even though it’s cold, he loves going on quiet walks, breathing in the fresh air, and gazing out at the sea. He loves spending time with the Lesters, joking around and playing games until midnight. He loves curling up next to Phil at night, knowing that there’s no more editing work that needs to be done tomorrow.
They’re on holiday, so they let themselves sleep in late. When they wake, they stumble their way down the stairs, bleary-eyed from too many late nights.
Kath is already in the kitchen, and the air smells like gingerbread. Dan’s stomach rumbles.
“Can I have these for breakfast?” Phil says eagerly, heading over to the tray of cooling biscuits.
“Don’t be silly, Phil. You can wait and have them with tea like a normal person.”
Dan smirks at Phil for being admonished like a child. Phil doesn’t look too put out and sets about making some toast instead.
“I was thinking we could bake together today, after you boys have had your breakfast,” Kath says.
“What’re we going to make?”
“How about some mince pies?” She winks at them, and they laugh.
“Mum! You know we’ve eaten loads of mince pie lately.”
“Well, you’ve been going on about your little project for the last month every time I call, Phil.”
“The Mince Pie Codex is the most important work I’ve ever done,” Phil says stubbornly.
“Any new winners?” she asks.
Dan shakes his head. “Nope. We’ve been really busy, so we’ve only tried a couple in December.”
“You boys. You work too hard.”
“Mum. We love our job.”
“I know. Well then, if you’re not too sick of them, I’d love to try and make our own. See if we’re any better than the supermarkets.”
Dan smiles widely back at Kath. “That sounds perfect.”
Once they’ve had their breakfast, Kath puts them to work. They’re not the best bakers in the world. They know that, Kath knows that. She assigns them to make the filling while she makes the pastry. Dan spills nutmeg all over the counter, and Phil eats more of the raisins than he should.
Phil watches as his mum puts the finished dough in the refrigerator. “Why do you have to do that?”
“It gives the crust the right texture,” she says. “Your gran taught me how to make a good flaky pastry, you know.”
Phil looks down into the filling he’s stirring. “I miss her.” His voice is soft.
“We all do, Phil.” Her hands are floury, but she pulls him into a sideways hug nevertheless. “Which is why we’re going to make pies she would be proud of, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Phil smiles.
Once the dough is chilled, Dan helps Kath line muffin tins with pastry and put filling in each one, while Phil cuts star shapes out of the dough to put on top of each pie. It’s probably not the best job for him; each star looks a bit misshapen. But Phil looks like he’s having fun with the biscuit cutter, and Dan can’t fault that.
When the timer on the oven goes off, the house smells like Christmas, and they’ve got their very own tray of mince pies ready to eat. They’re not perfect. The stars on top are still uneven, and Dan might have added a bit too much filling to some of them. But he’s proud that they made these little pies with their own hands.
They split one between the three of them. It’s still warm out of the oven when Dan takes a bite of his third. It’s well-spiced, and the crust is buttery and delicious.
Dan might be biased, but he thinks that this might be the best mince pie they’ve had yet.