Work Text:
“Turn it off.”
“You turn it off.”
“Uggghhhh.”
Phil, sagged over the low table, glanced sideways to where Dan was lying on his back on the floor, legs still crossed, his torso twisted to fit in the small space.
“That can't be comfortable,” said Phil.
“Maybe not. But I don't wanna move. And I went and got the pizza.”
Phil groaned again and hauled himself off the floor. He looked at the view of Dan sprawled on the rug through the camera’s tiny screen before shutting it off.
“Are you getting up, or - ”
“No. Never.”
Phil joined him back on the floor, poking at a spilled droplet of milk on the tabletop.
“That was fun?” he said, the lilting question in his voice.
“Yeah,” said Dan noncommittally.
“Or - ”
“No, it was good. Something a bit different.”
“Won't take much editing, either.”
“Mmm.”
Phil looked over at the pile of pizza detritus beside the table.
“We should clear up.”
“Yeah.”
Neither of them moved.
Dan yawned.
Phil's gaze flicked between the milk droplet, the pizza boxes, the empty glasses and the candles he'd brought to the table. Dan yawned again, and Phil looked over at him.
“Are you falling asleep?”
“Mmmm, no,” he said in response. Phil bumped him with a bent knee.
“I’ll move in a minute,” Dan whined. “I’m - digesting.”
Phil wondered if he meant the food or the video. He thought back to the meandering topics they’d discussed.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “D'you want me to keep in all the bits where you were talking about yourself? About your personality, and that?”
“Well, yeah. Why wouldn't you?”
“I just wondered. It's private. Maybe.”
“No, it's fine. It was an interesting conversation. Even if it got cut off.”
“I just thought - ”
“Yeah, I know. Maybe not on AmazingPhil, eh.”
“Did you mean it though?”
“Sort of. I was thinking out loud.”
Phil was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.
“I hope that - I mean, I feel like it's almost not something l need to say after all this time, but - you don't actually feel like you have to have a mask on or something when it's just us? Do you?”
Dan turned his head to look at him properly. It was a few moments before he replied.
“No,” he said, and something in Phil's stomach seemed to untwist. “It isn't, like, a you thing or an us thing or whatever. I just sometimes feel like it's - all the time. With everyone and everything. Which obviously includes you, in a sense.”
“I think you're thinking too much about it,” said Phil.
“Well, obviously. It’s my favourite hobby.”
“But, like,” Phil turned to face him more fully. “When we're at home, just us, you're not, like, having to keep up a sort-of anything. You never have since I met you.”
Dan's gaze was unfocused. Phil could almost see the cogs in his mind turning.
“Or - ” Phil prompted.
“No, that's true, it's just - it's difficult to explain. It's not, like, a performance. Not for you, obviously. It's more - who is the real Dan? Have I ever been able to be him? Does he exist? For you, for me, for anyone?”
“I know the real Dan,” said Phil, sounding slightly sullen.
“Do you? Do I? Does anyone?” Dan repeated.
“Yes,” said Phil insistently. “I do.”
Dan smiled.
“Okay.”
“No, but, listen,” said Phil, nudging him with his knee again. “I know you might not feel like you do sometimes, and lots of people probably don't even though they think they do, but I do.” He punctuated the last two words with pokes to Dan's ribs.
“Maybe better than I do,” mused Dan.
“Well, yeah, probably,” said Phil. If he sounded slightly smug about it, neither of them mentioned it.
“Still want me to leave that bit in?” said Phil.
“Definitely,” said Dan. “It's a really intriguing discussion, I think. Or the start of one.”
Phil leaned over and draped himself across Dan's torso.
“Nooo, not on my stomach,” whined Dan, feebly pushing at him. Phil rearranged himself to avoid Dan's food baby and huffed out a sigh.
“We still need to clear up,” said Dan, pushing Phil's quiff off his forehead.
“Mmm,” said Phil. “In a minute.”
Dan yawned again.