Archive of Our Own

Dan was understandably not keen on moving into a houseshare with 5 strangers, but the other option - living with people he already knew - was precluded by the fact that he didn’t actually know anyone. Which, yeah, could probably be explained by the fact he’d just moved to London for his Masters, but realistically, the situation would have been the same regardless. He just wasn’t the kind of person who was ever keen on living with, being near, or existing on the same plane as other human beings. And that was something he could probably philosophise endlessly about, but right now - wrestling an overfilled suitcase up a narrow staircase - probably wasn’t the best time. Probably.

“Oh, hey, you want a hand with that?” A man’s voice, a slight northern lilt to it, somewhere behind him, almost startled him into dropping the suitcase.

Dan turned, automatically preparing an awkward No, thank you that got caught in his throat as his eyes met the stranger’s, wide and blue and stunning. Instead of words, a noise that sounded something like a chicken being strangled came out.

“You all right, mate?” the man said, a look of concern coming onto his face.

“Um. Yes,” Dan squeaked - definitely a squeak, at least an octave above his usual speaking voice. He cleared his throat, then continued, in a deliberately gruff voice that somehow made him cringe even more. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“So, I guess you’re the new guy?” His tone added a question to the statement, and the look on his face was openly inquisitive.

“Yeah. Um. Dan,” he said, freeing one of his hands to do a quick awkward salute that made him cringe internally. A normal person would have gone for a handshake, probably.

“I’m Phil,” said the other guy brightly, with a smile like sunshine. “And I really need to pee. Can I just squeeze past you?”

Dan managed, somehow, to let Phil past him without serious incident or injury, then silently freaked out for 2 seconds before continuing to lug his suitcase up to his new bedroom. In his head, he started making a list. Pros of new place: cute guy. Cons of new place: have already been incredibly awkward with cute guy. That was probably about as well as he could expect things to go.

He managed to get the rest of his things into his room without further incident, and lost himself in unpacking and organising, almost - almost - managing to banish the image of wide blue eyes from his mind. Developing a hopeless crush five minutes after moving in probably didn’t bode well for this year, but - was there a but? Maybe sunshine-smile-Phil liked guys, but did he like weird, awkward, mostly-closeted-and-still-freaking-out-about-it guys who couldn’t handle introducing himself to someone without making a fool of himself? Dan had some serious doubts about that. Clearly the best course of action was to hide in his room until the black hole of embarrassment swallowed him up. Groaning quietly, he crawled into bed, wrapping himself in his duvet and vowing not to come out until it had fused to his skin and turned him into a shambling monster of bedding and regret.

Eventually, however, after an hour or two of anguish, his stomach forced him out of bed. Unwilling to brave the kitchen yet, he pulled up the Domino’s website on his phone and ordered a pizza, then flopped dramatically back onto his bed to wait for the doorbell. After an eternity (twenty-four minutes), it rang, and he scuttled down to the door and back again, breathing a sigh of relief when he made it without running into anyone. As he sat down, pulling his laptop out and setting the pizza on his bed, he remembered there was some kind of graduate induction event tonight, then quickly dismissed the idea of going. Meeting a whole bunch of new people was absolutely the last thing he needed now. Instead, he settled back into his cocoon, pulling up Tumblr on his laptop and opening the pizza box one-handed. Time to drown his feelings in greasy carbs and shitposts.

It was inevitable, of course, that he would run into Phil again, given the relatively small space they were sharing. Still, he was somehow affronted to walk into the kitchen and see a dark-haired figure leaning against the counter in - pink scrubs?

“Nice pyjamas,” he snorted, unable to help the grin that came onto his face.

“They’re scrubs, you knob,” Phil said good-naturedly, taking a bite from the slice of toast he was holding in one hand.

“They’re pink,” said Dan astutely.

“They’re actually raspberry,” Phil said, sticking his tongue out.“What, you don’t think I suit them?”

“No - I mean, I - shut up, what are you wearing them for, anyway?”

“Just like the feel of them,” Phil said, with a shrug and a cheeky smile, then continuing as Dan opened his mouth, “No, I’m heading back to work in a few.”

Dan hadn’t thought about it before, but this place was just a few minutes walk from the hospital.

“Oh, you work at the, uh,” Dan’s mind went conveniently blank.

“I’m a nurse, yeah,” Phil filled in, “What about you?”

“I’m a student, uh, just starting my Masters, yeah,” Dan said.

“Oh, cool! What’s it on?” Phil sounded genuinely interested. Dan was about to make him regret that - he launched into an in-depth explanation of his degree, complete with rambling asides, unable to stop himself even as he saw Phil’s eyes glaze over slightly.

“That sounds great,” Phil said, and his smile even looked genuine. “Listen, I’ve got to, you know, run, but I’d love to chat later.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around,” Dan said. His smile stuck around long after Phil had left.

The unfortunate part of signing up to do a degree was that you did, eventually, have to actually do the degree. He spent the next few days working out where he had to go, what he was expected to do, and what he could get away with not doing, in between daydreaming about Phil, hanging out in the kitchen hoping to run into Phil, and berating himself for becoming instantly obsessed with Phil. He hadn’t been this instantly infatuated with someone since he was a teenager, and it was honestly ridiculous, given that their conversations so far had barely extended beyond simple pleasantries between two strangers sharing a living space. Most of his loitering hadn’t resulted in further chats with Phil (and none had resulted in Phil sweeping him off his feet and carrying him bridal-style to his bedroom then fucking him raw), but he had met most of his other housemates. They were, so far: Alan, the microbiologist who used to be in the Navy and who would probably have been populating Dan’s mental wank bank if he hadn’t developed his instant crush on Phil; Sakshi, the final year medical student who was already in full panic mode for finals in September; and Maria, the middle aged Italian nurse who was both incredibly maternal and incredibly vulgar. The final, mysterious housemate had not yet been seen but was rumoured to live in the attic room and emerge only at night, so he was either a vampire or even more painfully anti-social than Dan. The former seemed more likely - even introverts had to pee, but vampires, they probably didn’t, right? Regardless, Dan found himself making a ridiculous amount of small talk as he hung around, hoping Phil would turn up and talk to him. Almost like some kind of normal, social human being. Ugh.

It was almost a full day before Dan bumped into Phil again - a pretty unbearable length of time, he thought. Well, ‘almost a full day’ was more like… Less than 8 hours, when he thought about it. He contemplated that for a moment, then shelved the thought in some dark recess of his brain where he hoped it wouldn’t poke out in conversation. It was around one in the morning, and Dan was on his way back from the bathroom when he noticed the light on in the kitchen. It was part curiosity and part hope that drove him to investigate, and he was rewarded with the sight of Phil - back in normal clothes, unfortunately - bending over to search for something in the fridge. He leant against the doorframe, enjoying the view for a moment, before speaking.

“Hey,” he said.

Phil jumped, his head clattering against a shelf and the package he’d picked up falling to the ground.

“Ah- ow- what the fuck,” he said, turning around and rubbing the back of his head with one head, “You scared the crap out of me, mate.”

Dan couldn’t help himself. He doubled over, cackling with glee at the unintentional injury he’d caused his new housemate.

“Hey, shut up,” Phil said, pouting - and that image was getting locked away for later daydreams - as he reached for the packet of ravioli he’d dropped on the floor.

“Sorry,” said Dan, incredibly insincerely, a broad grin still decorating his face, “What’s up?”

“Just got off,” Phil said. Dan smirked at that, making him blush. “Shut up, not like that, off work.”

“Uh huh, sure you did,” Dan said, still grinning, “Bit late, isn’t it?”

“Well, some people do shift work, Daniel,” Phil said, pulling a face as he filled up the kettle and switched it on.

Dan wasn’t going to think about the butterflies that danced in his stomach when Phil said his name.

“Gross,” he said, “So is this, like, your dinner?”

“No, it’s an offering I’m making to the Elder Gods,” Phil said, with a grin, “They love pasta.”

The sincerity in his tone was oddly endearing.

“Oh, shut up,” Dan said, pulling himself onto the counter, “I’m making conversation.”

“You’re really good at it.” Somehow, Phil made that sound like a genuine compliment.

“It’s one of my many talents,” Dan said, with a suggestive grin.

“What are the others?” Phil sounded like he was actually interested in him.

“Uh,” Dan struggled to think of a single thing he knew about himself, “I’m really good at cooking pasta.”

“Oh yeah?” Phil looked up as he was pouring boiling water from the kettle into a saucepan, then yelped as he spilled some on his foot instead.

“No, not at all,” Dan said, laughing.

“Dick,” Phil said, tugging off his sock to check the damage. Was it weird that Dan was staring at his foot? It was probably weird. Thankfully, Phil didn’t notice; he just frowned at his foot, then chucked his sock into the corner. He turned back to the pan, managing to get the rest of the water mostly inside it, then plonked the ravioli in, wincing as the splashback hit his hand.

“I can probably do better than this, though,” Dan commented.

“Shut up, I’m not used to cooking for an audience,” Phil said, swatting him with the damp wooden spoon he was using to stir the pasta.

“Here I thought you were a regular on Masterchef,” Dan said. He was grinning again - had he stopped? He wasn’t sure. Just being near Phil seemed to make him smile.

“Oh, definitely.” Phil’s smile really was radiant. Dan wanted to steal it, keep it all for himself.

Dan chattered at him while he waited for the pasta to cook, not even really paying attention to what he was saying, just watching how Phil reacted - the little smiles and laughs and changes of expression he could trigger. He kept talking while Phil drained the pot into the sink, then tipped it into a bowl and leaned against the counter opposite Dan. The kitchen was narrow - maybe a metre between the counters - and not equipped for social dining, with no table or chairs, but Phil just started eating there like it was the most normal thing in the world. He was listening - like, actually paying attention - to Dan’s ramblings like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Without really thinking about it, Dan reached across and nicked a piece of ravioli off him, ignoring Phil’s protests, then immediately regretted it when he tried to eat it whole and realised it was still basically boiling.

“You deserved that,” Phil said.

Dan’s mouth was too busy struggling with the small parcel of fire to respond, so he just flipped Phil off, making him laugh, his hand coming up to stop pasta from spraying everywhere.

“Idiot,” Phil said, his voice warm and soft. Somehow, he made an insult feel like a hug.

“No, you,” Dan managed to say around a mouthful of pain. Phil’s answering giggle was like a healing salve. Jesus, had he always been this gay?

Phil managed to finish his meal without any further incident, and conscientiously - although not thoroughly - washed his bowl in the sink.

“Right, well, I’m off then,” he said, clapping his hands together awkwardly like he suddenly wasn’t sure how to behave.

“Right, yeah, night,” said Dan. They stared at each other for a moment, then, simultaneously, burst into laughter.

It wasn’t technically stalking, Dan reasoned. After all, Maria had added him on Facebook first, and then obviously she was friends with Phil, and it just made sense to scroll through his profile a bit to check before sending him a friend request (which, naturally, he agonised over for half an hour before clicking the button impulsively and immediately taking a 3 hour nap). Then, obviously, it was only sensible to scroll through every photo Phil had ever uploaded. He surprised himself by not heading straight for the shirtless pics, instead lingering on bad selfies and blurry shots where Phil is smiling. He debates checking the about section, then braves it and is pleasantly surprised to see “Interested in: Men” - that’s one less thing to agonise about, at least. His own profile is purposefully vague and entirely filled out with ironic outdated memes - he’s pretty sure he likes men, but thinking any further than that makes his brain scream at him in an entirely unpleasant way. Seeing Phil be so open and matter-of-fact about it was refreshing and comforting, like it was just a simple facet of his life that he didn’t spend hours agonising over. Beyond that, he found out the simple things - like that Phil was from somewhere near Manchester, that he’d studied at York, and that he was four years older than Dan. Each new thing he found out made him feel a little bit closer to Phil, although he did also feel like kind of a creep - just not enough to stop.

Their next encounter was the next morning - although Dan slept until eleven and could only assume Phil had too. Dan spent half an hour making excuses to head back and forth to the kitchen, before catching sight of Phil headed to the bathroom holding a towel. Hoping fervently that no one else was around, Dan lingered in the hallway, scrolling through his phone and trying to look casual. He was preparing to wander back towards his room as the bathroom door opened, timing his journey for maximum affected casualness, but stopped as he saw Phil, disappointingly wrapped in what looked to be three separate towels. He found it weirdly endearing, despite his plan to ogle Phil having been thwarted. Thankfully, Phil didn’t notice him watching. He headed straight for his room, which Dan now realised was next to his own. Better be careful what kind of noises he makes in future, or things could get pretty awkward. Not that he wouldn’t find a way to make things awkward anyway, that was basically his biggest talent. His greatest solace was that, so far, Phil didn’t seem to hate talking to him. Small victories, and all that.

It was perfectly natural for Dan to decide he wanted a hot drink, but not enough to make it himself. It wasn't his fault that there was a Costa in the hospital, and that was the nearest place (barring two Starbucks within a similar distance) to get one. And if it happened to be while Phil was at work, and if he happened to linger long after the dregs went cold, no one could definitively prove he was doing it on the off chance of seeing him. As luck would have it, it was less than an hour before Phil turned up, wearing his pink - sorry, raspberry - scrubs and chatting to a man in green scrubs. Paralysed by his own awkwardness, Dan froze, unsure whether or not to hope Phil noticed him. He watched Phil talking to the other man with a powerful and entirely unreasonable feeling of jealousy, which was only slightly mollified when they parted ways at the counter. Dan watched, absentmindedly biting his bottom lip, as Phil picked up his drink. He felt his heart leap - in alarm or excitement, he wasn't sure - as their eyes met and Phil smiled, instantly moving across to his table.

"Hey!" Phil said, "Mind if I sit here?"

"No, yeah, go ahead," Dan said, trying to sound cool and failing miserably.

"Hope you're here for the coffee and not the hospital," Phil joked, sliding into the chair opposite him.

Dan could feel his ears getting hot, and he desperately hoped that his face wasn't bright red. "It was the nearest place," he said, indicating his cup, "Didn't feel like making my own."

Phil nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

"So, uh," Dan hesitated, trying to think of something to say that wouldn't make him sound utterly ridiculous, then powered through regardless. "This is where you work, huh?"

"This is where I come to take a break from work," Phil said, a cheeky grin on his face. "But yeah, I work in A&E. Hopefully I won't see you there."

"Hopefully," Dan agreed, having sudden visions of getting into an accident and awaking to Phil tenderly dressing his wounds. He watched Phil drinking, falling into a silence that was somehow more comfortable than awkward.

“Oh, yeah,” Phil said, apropos of nothing, “My day off is tomorrow, are you busy? Only I thought it’d be nice to have someone show you around, you being new here and all.”

“I’m not busy,” Dan said, stumbling over his words in his haste. “I mean, yeah, that would be great.”

“Great! I’m just getting off a run of lates, so I won’t be up too early.” Was it Dan’s imagination, or did Phil’s smile actually radiate warmth?

“I’m never up before eleven,” Dan said, “Don’t know how I’ll cope when I have to have, like, an actual job.”

“Oh, it’s hell,” Phil said lightly. “Just stay a student forever, mate.”

“I’ll think about it,” Dan said, with a small smile.

“I’ve got to run,” said Phil, standing up with an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Dan said. He watched Phil walk away, shamelessly staring at his bum, which was nicely accentuated by the thin fabric of his scrubs.

It was inevitable, really, that Dan wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. Casual plans, with a cute guy? Better make sure we’re as minimally functional as possible! There was simply nothing he could do to make himself fall asleep, no technique he’d learned to distract or relax himself that worked. In the end, it was all he could do to lie on the floor, staring at his ceiling until the light began to peek through the gaps in his curtains. In the daylight, his anxiety changed, from stressing about not sleeping to fixating entirely on Phil: tell him he’d forgotten their plans or changed his mind, assigning all kinds of malicious intentions to him. He was torn between feeling annoyed and relieved that he didn’t have Phil’s number and couldn’t badger him with texts just to check his brain was only being a dickhead. Finally, his insomnia-driven mixture of boredom and anxiety led him to check his Facebook messages, something he would only use under truly desperate circumstances. A new spike of anxiety stabbed through him as he saw Phil’s name in bold, with a timestamp shortly after midnight next to a truncated message. His heart pounding in his throat, he opened the chat.

Hi! Sorry, I totally forgot to say a time earlier! Is 12 good for you?

No worries if not.

Just let me know when you see this!

There were a few minutes between each message, a gap clearly designed to give him a chance to reply, if he hadn’t been too much of an idiot to remember there was, in fact, somewhere he could have contacted Phil. He stared at his phone for a moment, contemplating beating his own brains out with it, before tapping out a quick reply.

sorry just saw this

i never use fb lol

12 is fine

He spent another moment in self-loathing before groaning and checking the time. It was still disgustingly early - just gone nine - but late enough to give up on lying on the floor and instead head to the kitchen to scavenge up some breakfast. He felt a little better, repositioned in bed with a bowl of cereal and his laptop, scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr and periodically checking Facebook to see whether Phil was awake yet. It wasn’t until half eleven that he realised he should probably shower. Grumbling to himself, he dragged his protesting body into the bathroom and made it feel about 60% more alive with the application of warm water and soap. He returned to his bed, wrapped in a towel, damp curls falling into his face, and opened his laptop, his heart leaping when he saw Phil had messaged him.

Haha, me neither.

You’re up early!

I’m in the kitchen.

Smiling to himself, Dan crawled out of bed and got dressed in record time, heading straight for the kitchen.

“Morning,” he said, enjoying the surprised smile he got from Phil.

“You’ve got curly hair,” Phil said, his mouth staying slightly open.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Dan said, running one hand through it and looking away, “Just got out of the shower.”

“I like it,” he said, reaching out to touch a curl on the edge of his fringe.“You should keep it like this.”

Dan felt like the tips of his ears were about to catch on fire.

“What, soaking wet and all?” he joked, easily deflecting the compliment.

“Hmm, I don’t know, that seems kind of high maintenance,” Phil said, looking genuinely thoughtful. “I might have to follow you around with a spray bottle.”

Dan couldn’t help the startled laugh he let out, an unattractive squawk that seemed to make Phil look very pleased with himself.

“Idiot,” he said, pulling himself up onto the counter next to where Phil was standing. “You ready to show me around?”

“Nearly,” Phil said, putting his empty bowl by the sink, “you?”

“Nearly,” Dan echoed with a smirk. “Meet you at the door?”

They looked at each other for a moment, then both scrambled for the door in a mad, nonsensical race that had them both giggling.

Dan was ready before Phil. He waited nervously by the front door, and smiled reflexively when he saw Phil emerge from his room.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his hand up in an awkward little wave.

“Hey,” Phil said, with a smile that warmed Dan up from his core. “Aw, you got rid of the curls.”

“I have to straighten it before I go outside,” Dan said, running his fingers through his fringe, “it’s a right mess otherwise.”

“I think it’s cute,” Phil said, reaching over to mess it up then grinning when Dan pouted. “Kind of like a poodle.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s my style icon right there,” Dan said, rolling his eyes, “a fucking poodle.”

“Don’t knock poodles. They’re cool.” Phil gave him a wide-eyed look, then laughed and turned away to open the door. “Anyway, guess we better get started.”

“All right, lead on.”

Phil held the door open for Dan, inviting him out with a flourish. “So this… is our street,” he said, gesturing towards the row of slightly grotty terraced houses.

“Oh, wow, really?” Dan said, holding a hand to his heart with an exaggerated look of amazement.

“I know, it’s quite impressive,” Phil said. “Not sure how many streets you’ve seen before, but this is an excellent example, I think.”

Dan laughed, a startlingly loud cackle. “Shut up,” he said. Phil grinned.

“Okay, well, you already know where the hospital is,” he said, gesturing towards the building, which could just be seen looming over the rows of houses. “There’s a Tesco up that way, have you been?” Dan nodded. “All right, then. Huh. That’s pretty much everywhere I go, really.”

“Great tour, mate,” Dan said with a laugh, “Five stars. Ten out of ten.”

“Shut up, I’m not a professional tour guide.”

“Good job, you’d be rubbish.”

Phil shoved Dan playfully, laughing when he caught him off guard and sent him stumbling.

“You dick,” Dan said, swatting his shoulder, “Come on, there’s got to be something worth seeing round here.”

“There’s a Starbucks not far away,” Phil said, his brow furrowed in thought. “And the Tube station, I guess. I’ve only been here a few months, anyway.”

Dan’s laugh came out as more of a squawk. “So much for being my tour guide,” he said, “you need one yourself.”

“Okay, maybe,” Phil admitted, with a smile. “Come on, then, let’s go exploring.”

“Oh, yeah, no way that could go wrong.” Dan rolled his eyes.

“It’ll be fun!” Phil’s pleading tone touched something in Dan. He kind of felt like he’d follow Phil - if not into hell, then at least into an intimidating neighbourhood. He’d complain the whole time, of course, but he’d follow him.

“Oh, all right,” he said.

Phil got lost almost immediately, disoriented by the first corner they turned, but they continued following his nonsensical directions until they somehow stumbled upon the Starbucks - or perhaps a different one - and Dan pouted until Phil agreed to go in. They both bought overpriced concoctions that were definitely more sugar than coffee, and Dan chose a table with a cosy armchair that he immediately sat sideways in, with no regard for the intended design.

“Okay, I know the tour hasn’t exactly been a success,” Phil said, making Dan snort. “If you just want to go home, I get it.”

“I’m having fun,” Dan said. He really meant it, too. That was rare.

“Me too,” Phil said, with a shy smile. “Okay, so, we could just call it a day and go home, or-”

“Or what?”

“Or, I think there’s an arcade somewhere around here.”

Phil was giving him a slightly anxious look, clearly unsure of his reaction.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Dan said. “One condition, though. I’m absolutely using Google to get us there.”

Phil laughed. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair. My sense of direction is terrible, I don’t know why I thought I could show you round.”

Dan tried to give him an exasperated look, but he couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

The arcade turned out to be a 5 minute walk away, which they managed without getting lost thanks to Dan’s phone. The arcade was more or less deserted, which they probably should have expected, in the middle of a weekday. It suited them. They played a few games, Dan crowing triumphantly when he won and complaining bitterly when he lost, both of them laughing at themselves and each other. When they reached the DDR machine, they each picked a song for the other, giggling the whole time. Phil got indignant when Dan tried to sabotage him, then laughed when he fell on his ass. Dan tried hard to impress Phil, and swore every time he made a mistake. Phil spent an unwise amount of money on the claw machine, but he won a small plush whale which he proudly presented to Dan. They had, in general, a huge amount of fun, with only minimal embarrassment about being grown men spending hours in the arcade.

By the time they headed outside, it was beginning to get dark, and Dan’s stomach was complaining loudly.

“Hungry?” Phil asked, with a cheeky grin.

“Starving.”

“Want to get takeout?”

“Only always,” Dan said, pulling out his phone. “Don’t suppose you know what’s good here?”

“That’s actually one thing I do know,” Phil said, looking proud of himself. “I eat way too much takeout. What do you fancy?”

Dan shrugged.

“There’s a good Chinese place,” Phil suggested, his eyes searching Dan’s face for a response.

“Yeah, I could go for Chinese.”

“Great!” Phil directed Dan to their website, then Dan phoned them up and placed their order.

“They said it’ll be about twenty minutes,” he said, after hanging up.

“Cool,” said Phil, “How far is it to walk?”

Dan checked. “About twenty minutes.”

They set off, chatting idly about whatever nonsense came to mind. Their food was ready when they arrived, and from there, it was only a short walk back to their house, where they spread the food out on the counter. Phil stood, leaning against the side, his long legs stretched across the kitchen. Dan pulled himself up onto the counter, bending forwards awkwardly to avoid the overhanging cupboards. The food was good and the banter was better, and they ended up over-full and happy with a fridge full of leftovers. They lingered in the kitchen for a while after finishing, just chatting about nothing, but eventually they had no excuse to stay and had to go to their separate rooms.

Alone in his room, Dan resumed his standard browsing position, scrolling idly. He was barely looking at the things that passed by, too busy thinking about Phil. Eventually, he stopped even trying to look at his screen, letting his eyes drift as his mind did. He was staring at the opposite wall now - the one he shared with Phil. He was just letting himself indulge in the fantasy of Phil bringing him breakfast in bed when he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, which he turned towards and, horrifyingly, identified as a large spider dropping down from the ceiling onto his bed. Shrieking, he pushed his laptop away from him and leapt out of bed, stumbling over his feet as he rushed out of the room, slamming his door behind him. There was a beat of silence, then Phil emerged from his room, looking concerned.

“Did you hear that scream?” Phil asked, looking around. “Do you think someone’s hurt?”

“It, uh, me,” Dan’s words scrambled in his mouth, his breathing quickened with panic, “I, uh, there’s.”

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Phil said, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You’re all right, just talk to me. What happened?”

Dan took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “Spider. Huge spider. On my bed.” His voice was significantly higher than usual.

“Okay, do you want me to get rid of it?” Phil’s hand was rubbing small, soothing circles into his shoulder.

“Yes, kill it. Kill it!” Dan shuddered, shooting a glare at his bedroom door.

“I’m not going to kill it,” Phil protested, his tone reproachful. “I’ll take it outside, okay?”

“Fine, just get rid of it.”

“Okay, I’ll get, uh, a glass, I guess,” Phil said, heading towards the kitchen. Dan followed him, not wanting to be left alone near the spider.

“You need some card, too,” Dan said, “to stop it getting out.” “Yeah, I know how to catch a spider, Dan.”

“Then hurry up and do it!”

“Hey, I’m doing this for you,” Phil said, not sounding particularly annoyed. “Don’t be a little shit, I could just leave you alone with your new friend.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Dan said, his eyes widening, “I would literally die.”

“Be nice, then,” said Phil, producing an old takeout menu from a drawer and holding up a glass. “I’m ready. Wish me luck.”

Dan hovered in the doorway as Phil went into his room, trying not to think about how this was definitely not the circumstances he’d imagined this happening under.

“Where was it?” Phil asked, his eyes scanning the room.

“On my bed,” Dan said, trying not to shudder.

“I can’t see it.”

“Well, look harder,” Dan said, peering past him but not daring to step further into the room. “If you don’t find it I’m going to have to burn the whole house down.”

“Aw, I like it here,” said Phil, moving across to the bed. “Ah, there you are, little guy.”

“You found it?”

“I found him.” Phil slammed the glass down on the bed, then let out a noise that could have been triumph or disappointment.

“Did you get it?” Dan said, taking a half-step into the room.

“Got him!” Phil said, holding up the glass in front of Dan, the takeout menu clamped firmly across the opening.

“Ew, I don’t want to see it,” Dan said, crashing into the doorway as he tried to step backwards. “Get it away from me.”

“All right, all right,” Phil said, turning away. “Can you get the door for me?”

“Ugh, fine.” Dan darted around Phil, staying as far away from the spider cup as possible, and opened the front door. He watched with morbid curiosity as Phil gently released the spider onto the lawn.

“There, all gone,” Phil said, showing him the empty glass as he came back inside.

“My hero,” said Dan, pretending to swoon. Phil laughed.

“You feeling okay now?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” said Dan, although he was slightly dreading going back into his now spider-tainted bedroom. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” Phil said, with a smile. “Let me know next time you need a knight in shining armour.” He flexed his arm, pulling an exaggerated tough guy face.

Dan giggled. “I’ll call you when I need something heavy lifting.”

“Oh, maybe not that,” Phil said, “I’m more of a spider removal expert.”

Dan laughed. “Okay, I’ll call you for the light labour.”

“That sounds more like it.”

Dan waited for Phil to go back into his room before he opened his own door, taking a deep breath to steel himself. Thankfully, no more spiders leapt out at him. He was alone, but he felt comforted by the knowledge that Phil was just next door, ready to save him - from spiders, at the very least.

It was stupid, really. Dan was chopping vegetables for a rare lunchtime salad when Phil walked into the kitchen. Naturally, Dan had been distracted, looking up to smile at Phil, but his hands didn’t quite get the memo. The knife slipped, and then there was pain, and a lot of blood all over the knife and the board and the pepper he was slicing. His immediate reaction was to swear, and when that didn’t help, he kept on with it, just in case.

“What are you- oh, shit, Dan,” Phil said, immediately coming to his side. “All right, shut up, come on, let’s get it under the tap and I’ll have a look at it.”

Phil led him gently across to the sink, turning on the cold tap and holding Dan’s hand under the stream. As the blood washed away, Dan could see the cut - a thin, deep slice into his index finger, with a flap of tissue which was knocked by the water. Feeling slightly queasy, he looked away, letting Phil examine it more closely.

“Okay, that’s not too bad,” he said, turning the tap off and grabbing some kitchen roll, which he pressed firmly against Dan’s finger, “It’s quite shallow, but I think you’re gonna need some stitches just because of where it is.”

Dan pulled a face. “Do I have to?” he asked.

“I mean, no,” Phil said, pulling a similar face himself. “It’ll just heal better if you do.”

“Ugh, fine,” Dan said, standing up. “Can you do it?”

“Well, we’ll have to go to the hospital anyway,” Phil said, drawing Dan’s left hand across and clamping it around the tissue on his finger. “But sure, I can probably do it, if that’s what you’d like.”

“Yeah, please,” Dan said.

“Okay,” Phil said, “Keep squeezing it tight, I’ll just go grab my things.”

Phil was back quickly, wearing his jacket, and he helped Dan get his shoes on before leading him outside. They walked quietly to the hospital, Phil gently guiding him to the A&E entrance. He chatted easily to the nurse at the desk, clearly someone he knew, then led Dan through the waiting area and found an empty bay to sit him in. It was quiet, relatively empty - presumably less busy since it was the middle of a weekday. People in scrubs walked past, looking purposeful, and there were a few other people around that looked fine at first glance, but were clutching a hand or an arm.

“You’re lucky we do minor injuries here.” Phil was back, wearing scrubs and wheeling a small silver trolley. “I’m not meant to be working, but it’s easier if I just sort your finger out rather than you waiting for hours.”

“Thanks,” Dan said, with a tight smile.

He watched as Phil arranged his equipment on the trolley, gauze and instruments and an orange liquid he assumed was an antiseptic.

“Okay, rest your hand on this,” Phil said, grabbing the pillow from the bed and handing it to Dan, who arranged it awkwardly on his lap. “And hold your finger out, yeah, like that.”

He pulled on some gloves, wriggingly them onto his fingers with some difficulty, then dipped some gauze in the antiseptic and turned back to Dan.

“This is probably going to sting,” he warned him, rubbing the gauze against the cut, making Dan wince, then wiping down the rest of his finger. “Sorry, that’s the worst part,” Phil said, “but hey, an infected finger is worse, probably.”

“Probably,” Dan agreed.

He watched with vague interest as Phil tore a small hole in a blue drape, then got him to put his finger through it and rest his hand back on the pillow. It looked weird, just his finger sticking out on a field of blue. Almost like it wasn’t a part of him.

“Okay, this is the last part that’s gonna hurt, I promise,” Phil said. He was holding a syringe in his right hand, which Dan eyed nervously. “Don’t worry,” he continued, “it’s an anaesthetic. I’m just going to numb the area around the wound, okay?”

“Okay,” Dan said. He watched despite his internal desire to look at literally anything else, as Phil injected the anaesthetic into the edges of the cut, and managed not to throw up. It stung a little, but he started to feel his finger go numb soon afterwards. Phil had turned away again, rearranging things on his trolley.

“How are you doing?” he asked, looking back at Dan with wide, earnest blue eyes.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” Dan said, thinking some ridiculously sappy thought, like that staring into Phil’s eyes was like staring out across a calm lake.

“Great,” Phil said. “You might not want to watch this, some people find it pretty freaky.”

Dan nodded, fixing his eyes on the far wall. He felt something prodding his finger, and shook his head when Phil asked if it hurt. Then, there was an odd tugging sensation - painless, but weird. Before he knew it, Phil was telling him it was all over and taping a dressing over the wound, gathering all the debris into a bin.

“That’s it?” he said, surprised. “It’s done?”

“Yep, all done,” Phil said with a smile. “Give me a few minutes to get changed, yeah? Then we can walk home together. Oh, and you’ll need to get the stitches removed in a week or two.”

“Okay,” Dan said. He waited, still feeling a bit out of it, until Phil reappeared, back in his black jeans and bright blue and red T-shirt.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” Dan said, instinctively smiling up at Phil. He still felt a little like he was floating, but Phil seemed to act as an anchor, bringing him back to Earth.

Dan retreated into his room when they got back home, crawling into the safety of his bed. His stomach was reminding him he’d missed lunch, but he was still feeling shaken and… something else. He was beginning to think that his fleeting attraction to Phil was something a little more than that. Of course, he had been instantly attracted to Phil, but attraction was something he felt frequently, particularly towards anyone who was both good looking and nice to him. The presence of attraction didn’t mean he had to act on it, but this feeling was compelling. He wanted - he just wanted - to be near Phil, to hear him talk, to touch him. To fuck and be fucked by him, obviously, but more than that, he simply wanted to spend time with him. That made things complicated, so instead of actually acting on any of these feelings, here he was, hiding in bed and overthinking them. Instead, he was stuck with this - pathetically hoping that Phil would make the first move. If he even liked Dan. Knowing he was gay was one thing, but even with that, actually liking Dan seemed like such an impossibility that it felt better just to discount it without further consideration. At this point, his best case scenario was making it through the next year - or however long Phil was here - without completely embarrassing himself. And that was already off to a bad start.

His stomach grumbled, and he realised he’d been spending entirely too long agonising about Phil. Determined to think about anything else, he ordered a pizza and buried himself in course work for the rest of the evening. He tried not to think about Phil, but every time his mind drifted, that was where it ended up. When he finally fell asleep, Phil haunted his dreams - which were unfortunately not of an erotic nature. Instead, his subconscious decided to generate increasingly ridiculous scenarios for Phil to reject him under. Typical, really. His brain was such a dick.

Dan tried to spend the next few days productively; he really did. He was just trapped in the familiar gauntlet of procrastination, each word dragged from him with a huge effort, usually involving a period lying prone on the floor and groaning. Nothing he could do would make it easier; he simply wouldn’t cooperate with himself. He was in a sleepless spiral of plummeting self worth when he next encountered Phil. Dan was wrapped in a blanket, moving less as a person and more as a shambling mound from the kitchen to his room, some time in the middle of the night, when he bumped into Phil.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, over the top of Phil’s apology, his gaze lifting to meet his. Phil was wearing glasses, which suited him, making him look more mature in a way that spoke to several of Dan’s fantasies. “You wear glasses,” he said, stupidly.

“Oh, yeah,” Phil said, with a little laugh, his hand coming up to adjust them. “I usually wear contacts.”

“I like them,” Dan said, feeling an instant desire to shoot himself.

Phil blushed, a pink tinge coming into his pale cheeks. It was unbearably cute. “Thanks, I need them to see,” he said, evoking a laugh from Dan. “So, what’s got you up?”

“Can’t sleep,” Dan said, with a shrug.

Phil gave him a sympathetic smile. “That’s rough,” he said. “Do you want to hang out? I’m about to go onto nights, I need something to keep me up.” Dan’s mind instantly went places it probably shouldn’t have.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, unable to keep the eager tone out of his voice, “I need something to do, I’ll just drive myself mad like this.”

“Great,” Phil said with his sunshine smile. Dan followed him into his room, peering around curiously. It was colourful, with things everywhere - there was occasionally some semblance of order, but the general impression was of a lot of stuff, some of which had simply been allowed to make their home in a pile on the floor. His bed covers were blue and green, and twisted up like Phil had just been sleeping.

“Sorry about the mess,” Phil said, hurriedly sweeping some things out of sight. "Wasn't expecting to have company."

"It's fine," Dan said. It was. The room was messy, but not dirty, and it had a lived in feeling that felt homely to him. "Can I be nosy?" he asked, already looking at the candles lined up on a bookshelf.

"Sure," Phil said, with a laugh. "Just don't go rummaging through my underwear drawer. Do you want to watch something?"

"Sure," Dan said, picking up a candle and sniffing it, then putting it down, disappointed to find it wasn't scented. "Are you allowed all these candles? I thought they were banned on the contract."

"They're fine as long as I don't light them," Phil said, booting up a laptop and connecting it to the TV at the foot of his bed. "Which is probably safer for me, anyway."

"Probably," Dan agreed, moving on to the next candle, which turned out to have a pleasant woodsy scent. "It's a bit sad, though. Oh, who's this?" He picked up the small stuffed lion toy sitting at the end of the shelf.

"That's lion," Phil said, looking up. "Be gentle, he's not used to strangers."

"I think he likes me," Dan said, putting him back down and patting his head.

"He likes me best," Phil said, pulling up Netflix and scrolling through the suggested options, "What do you want to watch?"

"Hmm," Dan said, leaning over his shoulder to look at the screen. "Oh, I've been meaning to watch that." He pointed at one of the Netflix originals being advertised, and Phil clicked on it. It looked like a generic comedy, but he'd seen people chatting about it on Twitter and it was supposed to be pretty funny.

"I haven't heard of this one," Phil said, putting the laptop to one side as the title credits scrolled. He shuffled up the bed until he was sitting with his back against the headboard.

"We can find something else if it's rubbish," Dan said, cautiously sitting next to Phil. The bed was wide enough that there was a gap between them, but it still felt ridiculously intimate.

Phil nodded, leaning his head against Dan's shoulder. Dan felt his breath catch in his throat, and he had to make a conscious effort to continue breathing normally. He could smell the fresh scent of Phil's shampoo, feel his soft hair tickling his neck, the warmth of his head seeping through his T-shirt. It was ridiculously overwhelming.

"Don't let me fall asleep," Phil said, his voice rumbling through Dan's chest.

"I won't," Dan said, his throat tight and dry, his voice coming out husky. He couldn't focus on the screen, his attention consumed by the feeling of Phil next to him. All he could listen to was the soft sound of Phil breathing. Hardly daring to breathe, let alone move, he allowed himself to relax his neck, his head coming to rest against Phil's. It was thrilling, like he was doing something illegal by sharing this space with Phil - like he'd lured him here under false pretences. It felt temporary but all-consuming, safe and dangerous all at once.

He ended up breaking his promise - Phil fell asleep, and so did Dan, the Netflix screen showing the "Are you still watching?" message until the TV also fell asleep, leaving them entangled in the darkness. Dan woke up first, to the sound of birds and a deep aching in his neck from having slept in such an awkward position. Groaning, he shook Phil's shoulder, trying to wake him up gently. His glasses were slightly askew, and he looked charmingly peaceful, despite the little snoring sounds he was making.

"Hnng?" Phil said, his eyes coming open.

"Sorry," Dan said, his voice hushed, "we fell asleep."

"Oh," Phil said, blinking a couple of times, then letting his eyes drift shut again as he leant his head into Dan. "Time is it?"

Dan shifted awkwardly, managing to pull his phone out of his pocket without dislodging Phil. “It's 7:30,” he said.

"Ugh," Phil said. "I guess I should try to be awake for a bit."

"Disgusting," Dan agreed, poking Phil in the cheek. "Come on, I'll help you, but we need something better than Netflix."

“Yeah,” Phil said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Okay, yeah, maybe a game is better. I’ve got, uh, Mario Kart?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m gonna destroy you,” Dan said, grinning as Phil crawled across the bed to set it up.

“Well, I’m gonna destroy… your mum, yeah,” Phil said, switching the TV input across so the menu screen was playing.

“Oh shit, he’s got comebacks,” Dan said, cackling with laughter. “All right, all right, let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Okay, right,” Phil said, chucking Dan a controller. “Best of three, loser has to buy us breakfast.”

“You’re so on,” Dan said, “I am going to completely wreck your shit.”

“Bring it on, Danny boy.”

Dan won the first two rounds easily, crowing triumphantly on each victory lap as Phil complained that he must have cheated. Somehow, he let Phil convince him to do a third all-or-nothing round. It was either a long con or a lucky fluke, but Phil won, barely scraping past Dan at the finish line, and causing Dan to yell so loudly he probably could be heard from France. Phil was so excited about winning, it made the sting of losing more bearable, although Dan still had to whine about it all the way to Starbucks for Phil’s prize. He bought them both coffees and pastries, slapping Phil’s hand away when he tried to pay for it, and settled into the armchair he was already thinking of as his own, even though this was only his second visit here. It was getting on for 9am by then, a far more civilised time to be up, although not one Dan might have chosen himself. Phil made the mistake of asking Dan about his Masters, and was treated to a mixture of complaining and rambling, veering off onto tangents that must have been completely incomprehensible. To his credit, he listened with apparent interest the whole time, which was until Dan ran out of steam and trailed off mid sentence with a “so… yeah, that’s what I’m studying”.

“That’s really interesting,” said Phil. It seemed like he meant it, which was equally incomprehensible. “I always wonder what I’d have done if I didn’t go into nursing.”

“Yeah, what made you want to be a nurse?” Dan asked. “I mean, it looks like you’re good at it, but I don’t know how you get interested in that in the first place.”

“I just really like sticking needles in people,” Phil said, with a goofy smile. Dan laughed. “No, it’s really - I wanted to do something to help people, but the whole doctor thing seemed like too much studying - not to mention I couldn’t exactly be Dr Phil, that’d be stupid - anyway, I didn’t have the grades for that, but nurses do all the cool stuff, anyway.”

“That’s really cool,” Dan said. “Don’t think I could do it. I’m dreading having to get a real job.”

“Just find yourself a sugar daddy,” Phil suggested, making Dan squawk.

“I’d be a good sugar baby,” Dan agreed, once he’d regained some of his composure. “I think I’d be really good at spending someone else’s money.”

Phil’s laugh was really endearing. It wasn’t anything poetic - none of that musical bullshit - but it was honest, and made you feel laughed with and not laughed at. A simple expression of pure joy, that’s what it was. If Dan had to describe it, he’d start with how it made him feel: warm inside, like he was welcome here.

They spent a few hours in Starbucks, lingering long after their drinks were empty, only leaving once Phil decided the baristas were giving them looks. They walked home together, Dan rambling about the finer points of one of the Mario Kart stages they’d played, and parted ways in the hall - Phil going to sleep before his night shift, and Dan going to pretend he was working. Instead, he sat on his bed, and thought about Phil, in detail. He thought about sleeping next to Phil. He thought about feeling electrically attracted to Phil, but still so comfortable that he could doze off beside him, tease him, and tell him every little thing that came into his mind. He thought about how short a time they’d known each other, and how it somehow felt like years. He’d never had such an instant, easy connection with another human being, and it was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. He felt exquisitely vulnerable, and he loved it.

He was awake, lingering in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, at the time he knew Phil should be coming home. He'd arranged himself into the picture of a casual coincidence, but he couldn't lie to himself: he had, after all, specifically set an alarm in order to run into Phil. But Phil didn't need to know that.

He perked up when he heard the key in the door, rearranging himself into a pose he hoped exuded casual vibes and prepared an expression of surprise.

"Hey," he said, as Phil entered the kitchen, doing his best to sound cool and relaxed. "How was work?"

"Hey." Phil's face had instantly brightened, a warm smile lighting up his eyes. "It was all right. Only five stabbings tonight."

Dan's eyes widened. "You got stabbed?"

"No, idiot,” Phil said, with a laugh. “I saw five people who were, though.”

“Shit,” Dan said. “Were they okay?”

“Yeah, mostly.” Phil shrugged. “It’s pretty common around here.”

Dan felt his view of the world shift slightly.

“What about you?” Phil continued, opening a cupboard and searching through the packets inside. “What’s got you up this early?”

“I could be a morning person,” Dan said, affronted. “It’s nearly nine.”

“Sure,” Phil snorted. He found what he was looking for - a packet of breadsticks- and offered them to Dan before taking one for himself.

Dan just shrugged. He hadn’t prepared a lie, and nothing was coming to mind, so he changed the subject instead. “It must be weird working nights,” he said, lifting his mug to his lips but not drinking.

“Yeah, it really throws you,” Phil said, nibbling on his breadstick, “I usually can’t sleep properly in the day, I just end up having a bunch of naps.”

Dan made a sympathetic noise.

“I usually work the late shift, though,” he continued. “4pm to midnight, that’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, that sounds like my usual waking hours,” Dan said, making Phil smile.

There was a beat of silence, and Dan felt his heart jump into his throat as he tried to gather his courage.

“So,” he said. Phil looked at him, his expression inquisitive. “I guess, uh, I was wondering, you know, what your plans are. For today, I mean. It’s probably a bad time, but you know, I thought, well, I was gonna ask-”

“Yeah,” Phil interrupted, his smile bright. “I mean, whatever it is you want to do. I’ve got to sleep at some point, but-”

“Well, yeah, I wasn’t going to-”

“Maybe we can hang out here?”

“Yeah,” Dan said, feeling his face light up. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Great,” said Phil. “Okay. Yeah.”

“So,” said Dan, putting his nearly-empty mug down. “Uh, are you hungry? I guess it’s… dinner time, for you?”

“I’m not in a different time to you,” Phil said, laughing. “But yeah, I could eat. You?”

“I haven’t eaten yet.” Dan’s stomach rumbled in agreement. “What do you fancy, like, dinner stuff?”

“I’ll have whatever, I don’t mind,” Phil said. “My diet always goes completely random on nights.”

“I don’t feel like making anything,” Dan said, screwing up his nose in disgust at the thought of putting effort into acquiring food. “Does anywhere do delivery at, what, 9am?” He pulled out his phone and started searching.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that exists,” said Phil, coming across to peer over his shoulder. “See, look, breakfast delivery! Technology is amazing.”

“This is terrible,” said Dan, scrolling through the options. “Okay, what do you want? Oh shit, you can order a Full English here.” His thumb stopped over the blurb for the restaurant, his eyes scanning the text. “Shit, that feels obscene. Can we? Dare we?”

“Do it,” said Phil eagerly, leaning into his shoulder.

Dan looked up from his phone, not quite able to meet Phil’s gaze at this angle, with Phil’s face against his shoulder. “All right, I’m doing it,” he said, quickly tapping out their address and his card details. “I can’t believe I’m ordering a cooked breakfast.”

“You mad lad,” Phil said, his Northern accent coming out.

Dan giggled. “This must be what success feels like,” he said.

“You’ll know you’ve made it when you’re ordering breakfast every day,” Phil said. He was still leaning against Dan, his chin resting on his shoulder. Dan could feel the heat emanating from his body.

“God, goals,” he said. “So, where d’you want to eat?”

“My room?” Phil suggested, moving away slightly. Dan missed his warmth immediately.

“Sure. I’ll try not to spill beans on your bed.” He let Phil take the lead, heading up the stairs to his room.

“That’s probably not the worst that’s happened to it.”

Dan gave him a look, and he started laughing.

“You pervert!” Phil said, through the laughter. “Not like that!”

“Uh huh,” Dan said, sarcasm dripping from each exaggerated vowel sound. “Come on, you’d better get me in there before I change my mind.”

“I’ll get the handcuffs,” said Phil, with a wicked grin.

Dan burst out laughing, a full-on cackling mess, while Phil stood there looking pleased with himself in the doorway. Still laughing, Dan collapsed comfortably onto Phil’s bed, sprawling across the covers.

“Move over,” Phil said, nudging his leg with his knee as he sat down next to him.

Dan made space for him, moving so he was propped up against a pillow. Phil sat right next to him, their shoulders touching and their knees brushing against each other.

“Ugh, I really need to take my contacts out,” Phil said, letting his eyes drift shut and his head fall against the pillow Dan was leaning on.

“What happens if you don’t?” Dan asked, resisting the temptation to reach across and brush the hair off Phil’s forehead.

“Dunno. Probably glues my eyes together. I’ll go blind, I guess.”

“Blinder,” Dan corrected him, grinning.

“Sure, blinder.” Phil frowned, his eyes opening. “More blind? It’s more blind.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Dan poked him in the shoulder. “Go on, go and grope your eyeballs.”

“Fine, mum,” Phil said, standing up with a groan.

He disappeared into the bathroom, and returned a few minutes later, glasses in place. Dan was still on the bed, aimlessly scrolling on his phone.

“Okay, that’s better,” Phil said, sliding back onto the bed. “Feels less like I have a ton of grit in my eyes.”

“Gross,” Dan said, dropping his phone and looking at Phil instead. “Contacts are so weird, how do you just go around sticking bits of plastic in your eyes?”

“It’s not that weird,” Phil protested. “You barely feel them, most of the time. And it’s easier than wearing glasses all the time.”

“I don’t know,” said Dan, cocking his head to one side and running his eyes over Phil. “The glasses suit you, I think.”

“I don’t know,” Phil said, his cheeks turning pink. “Don’t they look a bit dorky?”

“Absolutely,” Dan said, with a grin.

Phil shoved him sideways, almost knocking him off of the bed. He was saved by further remonstrations by the doorbell.

“You get it-”

“No, you-”

“Shut up-”

“Okay, rock paper scissors for it,” Phil said, talking over Dan. “Loser gets the door.”

“All right, you’re on,” Dan said, holding out his fist. “Best of three.”

“One, two, three, go.”

Phil went paper, Dan went scissors.

“Ha!”

“Okay, again,” Phil said, “One, two, three, go.”

Phil went scissors, Dan went rock.

“Ah-hah!” Dan said, grinning triumphantly as he bashed his fist into Phil’s fingers. “Go and get us our breakfast, loser.”

Phil huffed, but he went downstairs. Dan heard a muffled exchange between Phil and the delivery driver, then the sounds of Phil coming back upstairs. He came back into the room brandishing a paper bag.

“I have returned,” he said, dropping the bag onto his bed and sitting down cross-legged.

“I’ve missed you,” Dan said, addressing the bag of food as he opened it and pulled out his meal.

Phil laughed, opening his own box. “Wow, they really went all out on this,” he said.

"Yeah, this is like, proper cooking," Dan said, wrapping a sausage in fried bread and dipping it in baked beans before stuffing the whole thing in his mouth.

"God, I wish I could eat like this every day," said Phil, closing his eyes and leaning over his food to breathe in the scent. "I'd die happy right now."

"What's going to kill you?" Dan said, around a mouthful of food. "You're going to, what, choke on a sausage?"

Phil giggled. "I could, you know!" He waved a sausage at Dan for emphasis. "You'd better be ready to save me."

"Uh-uh, no way," Dan said, shaking his head and swallowing. "I don't know how to do that!" His voice crept up, both in pitch and in volume.

"Better learn quick." Phil started pretending to choke, then coughed and gagged as he actually made himself choke. Dan, of course, provided no assistance, and yelled instead.

"I can't believe you'd just let me die," Phil said, his voice hoarse, when he finally recovered.

"I can't believe you did that," Dan said, his voice still high. "You can't just choke and die on me!"

"That-" He paused to cough. "That's what she said!"

"Shut up!" Dan slapped him on the shoulder, hard enough to knock him off balance.

"Ow!" Phil clutched his shoulder dramatically. "Hey, I'm dying here!"

"You seem fine to me," said Dan, ignoring him to go back to eating.

“Dick,” Phil said, also returning to his food.

Dan’s mouth was too full to speak, so he settled for flipping Phil off. Phil just laughed, hiding his mouth behind his hand. Dan laughed as well, falling to one side. His food also fell, sliding off his lap, and some of his beans slipped onto the bed.

“Oops,” he said, quickly scooping them back into the container.

“Dan!” Phil said, sounding more amused than angry. “I can’t believe you actually spilled beans on my bed!”

“It was your fault,” Dan protested, his face falling naturally into a pout.

“Shut up, it was not!” Phil hit his shoulder, without any force.

“Was too,” said Dan, sticking his tongue out at him.

Phil rolled his eyes. Dan ignored him in favour of scooping beans into his mouth. Phil watched him for a moment, then settled back into his cross-legged position, his knee brushing lightly against Dan's. They ate quietly, enjoying the company without any pressure to speak. When they'd finished, Phil gathered the rubbish in the bag and lobbed it in the general direction of his bin. Dan stretched out his legs, propping his head up with a pillow, and smiled as Phil came to lie next to him.

"'M tired," Phil said, his face scrunching up as he suppressed a yawn.

"Want me to leave?" Dan said, hoping the answer was no.

"Nah," Phil said, resting his head on Dan's shoulder, "I just won't be much fun."

"That's fine." Dan allowed himself to rest his hand on Phil's head. His hair was soft and silky, and he let out a soft noise when Dan touched it.

“Mmm, yeah.” Phil nuzzled his armpit. “Just gonna sleep here.”

“Okay,” Dan said, with a small smile.

Phil’s glasses were slightly askew, the corner pressing into Dan’s chest. Gently, Dan slid them off, and dropped them onto the bedside table. Phil made a contented noise. His body was pressed into Dan’s side, warm and comfortable. It felt natural to have him there. Phil was warm and affectionate, in a way that was new to Dan, used to being cautious around men. He wasn’t used to friendship being so easy. Quite aside from the fact that Phil was attractive, he simply enjoyed being around him. He still wasn’t sure how to process his feelings, and he was terrified of screwing this up. Even so, he was happy just to stay like this, hopefully forever.

Phil fell asleep quickly, snoring softly, his slightly open mouth leaving a damp patch on Dan’s shirt. Dan’s arm was starting to go numb, but he didn’t mind too much. He was reluctant to move at all for fear of disturbing Phil, but he still felt peaceful. Trapped like this, he had nothing to do except think. That was usually a terrifying prospect, but Phil’s presence made it more comfortable. Instead of agonising, his mind drifted to more pleasant fantasies. Usually, his fantasies about Phil involved sex, but the last thing he wanted right now was to make things awkward by getting horny. Instead, he thought about how it would feel to wake up next to him every morning, eat breakfast together. How it would feel to go to bed with him every night. To spend years with Phil - how was that something he could already picture so clearly? The idea should have been terrifying to him, but Phil made him feel safe.

By the time Phil woke up, Dan was bored, numb and desperate to piss. Phil awoke gradually, making small noises, his eyelids fluttering as he shifted in place.

“Morning,” Dan said, smiling warmly.

“Mm,” Phil said, his lips twitching with a sleepy smile, “Time?”

Dan craned his neck, trying to angle himself so he could see Phil’s alarm clock without dislodging him.

“Uhh, twelve something, I think,” he said.

Phil made a noise that could have been words, but wasn’t anything intelligible.

“Yeah,” said Dan.

Phil stretched, rolling into Dan, his breath puffing against Dan’s neck. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he wriggled unintentionally, knocking Phil sideways.

“Hey,” Phil said, pushing himself up on one arm.

“Hey yourself,” Dan said. “Sleep well?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Phil said, leaning against Dan’s shoulder again, “You?”

Dan’s stomach grumbled loudly. Phil laughed.

“Wanna get some lunch?” Phil asked, sitting up with a smile.

“Yeah,” said Dan, already missing Phil’s warmth. “You got any food in?”

“Some, I think. You?”

“Some.”

Together they managed to scratch up some lunch out of the things they had. It turned out to be unsightly, but tasty. They ate together, chatting happily, but Phil kept yawning, obviously still tired. Reluctantly, Dan left him alone after they ate, to let him get some rest. He went back to his own room, alone again, and tried to do some work. Instead, he started to think.

The way he figured it, there were two problems he had to address. The first thing he had to do was, essentially, get over himself. He could probably continue agonising over being gay forever, but eventually, he would have to take a risk. That’s where the other problem came in: he didn’t know how Phil felt about him. He could guess, of course, but the only way to know for sure was to take that risk - to put himself out there and take the chance he’d get hurt. Phil might just like him as a friend, and he might reject Dan. Or - and this could actually be a scarier possibility - he might not. He might like Dan, too. What an ecstatically terrifying possibility that was.

Dan ended up not seeing much of Phil for a few days. He had been struck by the full blow of having to start working on his degree, and despite his eccentric sleep schedule, he hadn't quite managed to line up with Phil's night shift rhythm. While he couldn't spend time with Phil, he started planning. If he wanted to woo Phil, after all, taking him out on a real date might be a start. With that in mind, he started researching local restaurants to find one that was both suitably romantic and within his price range. He managed - subtly, in his opinion - to find out that Phil had Friday through Sunday off, then was changing to the late shift. He even managed to confirm that Phil had no plans on Friday, so he went ahead and booked a table, hoping that nothing else would pop up before he gathered the guts to officially ask him out. It seemed unlikely - Phil's life seemed to involve a similar level of social activity to Dan's, with the added complication of working a demanding shift-pattern job.

Unlikely, but Dan still worried about it.

His anxiety reached a peak as Friday arrived, waking him up early and not allowing him to rest again. He paced around his room instead, his mind populated with increasingly ridiculous worries. Eventually, hunger overcame him, and he moved to the kitchen, continuing to pace while he ate cereal. Halfway through, he was interrupted by Phil, stumbling into the kitchen in pyjamas and glasses.

“Morning,” Phil said, with a sleepy smile.

“Hey,” Dan said, pausing mid-step and smiling. Early morning Phil was something he could get used to.

“What’s up?” Phil asked, opening a cupboard and pulling out a bowl.

“Oh, not much,” Dan said, his anxiety bubbling up again. “Actually, I was hoping to see you.” Was he imagining it, or did Phil’s expression brighten? “You’re not busy today, right?”

“Nope, no plans,” Phil said, with a smile, “You want to hang out?” He turned away to grab a box of cereal - Dan’s cereal - and poured it into the bowl.

“Yes! I mean, yeah, sure, cool.” Dan affected a casual air that wouldn’t fool anyone, but it made Phil laugh.

“Great,” Phil said, adding milk to his cereal. “So, what’s up?” He leaned casually against the counter, looking at Dan with interest.

“Uh,” said Dan, his mind conveniently blank. He shrugged.

“Cool,” Phil said, nodding as he shoveled cereal into his mouth.

“Yeah.” Dan leant against the counter next to Phil, their arms almost touching.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, shuffling until his arm was pressed into Dan’s.

They stood there quietly for a minute while Phil finished his cereal. It was comfortable and familiar. When he’d finished, Phil took his bowl and Dan’s, and washed them in the sink. Dan felt a warmth in his chest as he watched him. After he was done, Phil took Dan by the hand, and led him to his door. He paused on the threshold, still holding Dan’s hand.

“Hey,” he said, looking Dan in the eye, “There’s something I wanted to talk about. Come in?”

“Sure,” Dan said, feeling the tension thrum in his chest like his ribs were a tightly strung piano that’d just been struck.

He let Phil lead him over to the bed, sitting next to him and nervously crossing his legs, his hands folded awkwardly in his lap.

“So,” Phil said, looking earnestly at him, “I hope I’m not crossing a line here or anything, but, well, I was just thinking - I’ve had so much fun hanging out with you recently - and, I don’t know, I thought I’d just take a chance-” Dan held his breath. “God, I don’t even know, sorry, this could be so awkward. I probably should have gotten dressed first.” Dan laughed, barely making a noise - there wasn’t enough air in his lungs to power it. “Okay.” Phil closed his eyes for a long moment, then turned himself squarely towards Dan. “Do you want to go out on a date, or something? With me? Like, a romantic thing.”

Dan couldn’t help himself - he had to laugh. He managed to stop himself when he saw the slightly panicked look that came into Phil’s eyes.

“Yes!” he said, smiling with his entire face. “Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, it’s just - I’d planned this whole thing, I even booked a table at this restaurant, I was so nervous to ask you out, and you just did it first!” By the time he finished, Phil was doubled over with laughter, his head knocking into Dan’s stomach.

“Oh my god,” he said, flopping over so he was looking up at Dan, his head in his lap. “Actually, I’m glad you planned something, I had absolutely nothing. Probably would have ended up taking you to Starbucks.”

“I can’t believe I spent all this time working up the nerve to ask you out, and you beat me to it,” Dan said, shaking his head. “Figures, though, I’m a terrible procrastinator.”

Phil grinned. “So, we’ve got a date? When?”

“Tonight,” Dan said, smiling, “I was going to ask you today. At some point.”

“Do I have to wait until then to kiss you?”

Dan felt his ears burning. “I mean… if you want to,” he said.

Phil pushed himself up, so he was sitting cross-legged next to Dan, facing the opposite direction. “I’m not sure I want to wait,” he said. Dan looked at him, into his blue eyes - which he now realised had green and yellow in as well, and who knew what else he would discover staring into them? He felt the tension building inside him, to the point where something had to break - and it did. The distance between them vanished, their lips brushing together, dry and fleeting as Phil overbalanced and fell, knocking Dan back onto the bed.

“Whoops,” he said, his elbow digging uncomfortably into Dan’s ribs.

Dan rolled onto his side, dislodging Phil. Their faces were even closer now, close enough that his eyes were the only thing in focus. “Why don’t you try that again?” Dan said, his tone light and teasing. Phil did, kissing Dan easily this time, warm and soft and tasting like sugary cereal. It was everything he’d hoped for: familiar and exciting all at once.