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“Can’t believe our friends have lives,” Dan says with a dramatic sigh as he flops backwards onto the bed, dropping his phone onto his stomach.
“Almost as if they don’t live in Japan just to serve as our tour guides, right?” Phil laughs as he enters from the bathroom, wiping the last of the toothpaste foam from the corner of his mouth, and flings it so it lands on Dan’s face. Naturally, it immediately gets thrown back over, which Phil dodges with ease.
“They did text us some places to check out though, they’re not too far,” Dan picks his phone back up and taps onto the text of the locations.
“Race you?”
Dan rolls his eyes as he gets to his feet, but his grin is wider than it has been all day.
“How about we walk side by side at a leisurely stroll pace?”
Phil shrugs. “If you want to wuss out, then sure.”
Dan swats his arm gently as he walks out of the door.
--
“Every time we leave the hotel I’m more and more convinced we’re actually living in a cartoon,” Phil comments as they set off down the street, looking around at the various colourful billboards above them.
“Tell me about it,” Dan replies, “I feel like me in twenty-twelve would have melted in a pool of black disappointment the second he saw it.”
“And then he’d see these Pikachu vending machines and he’d magically reappear.” Phil points across the street to the three Pikachu branded vending machines, all with queues of people waiting for its custom.
“I think you’re giving him too much credit, he was definitely more of a Dusknoir or nothing kind of guy, you remember that.”
Phil smiles. “I still liked him.”
Before Dan can reply, both of their attention immediately shifts to the little Shibe that comes trotting down the street, owner in tow. They increase the gap between them so the dog can comfortably pass through with no effort, and its owner offers a thankful smile as she passes.
“I swear to every authority figure alive it’s a sign and I don’t know how much longer I can ignore it,” Dan is still staring after the dog, and it takes a gentle tug on his arm before he continues walking.
“Well maybe if you didn’t pack so much unnecessary shit in your case I wouldn’t be needing to talk you out of this, you know?”
“I took precautions!” Dan protests, as they turn the corner onto a quieter pathway, more colour in the stones that line each side. “How was I supposed to know if the holiday air was or wasn’t going to put you in the mood to challenge the record night of four times?”
Phil laughs. “Probably around the time we were booking this trip and I found out that the bedding in every room was little cartoon sushi and I told you there was no way.”
“And I chose to believe that was a joke, what is your point?”
“That I was not going to ever have sushi with white sauce.”
They pause for a moment against a wall, watching a softly trickling fountain.
“I don’t get why you call it white sauce, you’re nearing forty years old?”
Phil softly punches him in the arm. “Because double meanings is the pinnacle of comedy, obviously,” he replies without missing a beat. “And it gets you this perfect shade of flustered.” He draws a circle in the air around Dan’s slightly blushed cheeks.
“It’s not flustered,” Dan fidgets against the wall and tucks one hand into his pocket, “It’s frustration that you keep trying to convince me that white sauce is an actual thing in the North and not just a family friendly way of saying-“
He promptly clamps his mouth shut as a pair of toddlers come skipping by them, their parents close behind.
“Absolutely perfect timing, couldn’t fault it.” Phil smirks as he glances over to Dan, who narrows his eyes at him.
Phil winks and sets off walking again in the direction of their next outlined location, apparently their hotel was somewhat close to a public garden.
--
“Two more dogs over there,” Phil points in the general direction of the far corner of the public garden, where two big dogs are chasing each other around in circles, whilst their owners chat nearby.
The bench creaks as Dan leans forward slightly.
“Is this not how kidnappers operate?” Dan ponders.
“You’re the one that’s said every day since we’ve been here that you’re smuggling a dog back with you, I’m just trying to support your life choices.”
“Aren’t I the lucky one?” Dan adopts a high pitched voice. “Get yourself a man that helps you smuggle a dog back from a foreign country.”
There’s a few seconds of silence, broken only by the laughter of children elsewhere in the gardens, and the excited barks of the various dogs running around.
“I think we just took it too far,” Phil says.
“Yeah I think we ruined it,” Dan replies soon after. “I’ll settle for just taking you home, I guess.”
“Oh I’m not going back, I’m staying here to live amongst the Pikachu machines and the pink Fanta, sorry you had to find out like this.”
Dan draws out a sigh. “And here I was mistaking you for a good fish dad. He’ll be crushed.”
“He’ll fly out to live with me, no shared custody here.”
“Will you at least send me pictures once a week?”
Phil taps a finger to his chin. “I think that’s too much commitment for me.”
Dan smiles to himself and holds out his hand in front of Phil’s face, and wiggles his (bare) ring finger. “You’re telling me.”
Phil reaches down to pick up a stray twig, and bends it as far it will go, and drapes it over Dan’s outstretched finger.
“That’ll tide you over, champ.”
“It’s going to have to,” Dan mumbles, making a show of slowly dropping the twig back to the ground.
Phil then gets to his feet, checks his phone, then turns to face the direction of their next stop.
“Onwards and upwards, as they say!” He says far too chirpily, and nods to the steep hill just after the gardens.
“If there’s not a ring waiting for me at the top I’m buying some of that stupid pink Fanta and tipping it over your head.” Dan says as he begins to follow Phil out of the gardens.
“Sounds like a win-win to me!” Phil sings back, and Dan jogs the few steps to catch up, and nudges his arm.
“Will you at least pull me up a bit?” Dan asks, and Phil smiles.
“I only pull down, you know that.”
He takes pleasure in the fact that the statement makes Dan stumble for a step or two.