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It’s a strange feeling, uploading this video. Phil’s not sure he’s ever felt anxiety the same as he did last year, sat in this same place on the sofa, hand over the mouse, clicking the upload button.
It’s a lot easier this time.
His finger doesn’t hover, he doesn’t hesitate. It’s an easy click, and then he switches the window to order a pizza. It’s just another video now. A video he knows is going to help people again, a video that gives a little more of himself to the world, but one that carries nowhere near the same weight as his coming out video.
He never told anyone how scary it was, uploading that video. He knows most of the focus had been on Dan, that people saw Phil as the confident one, the one whose sexuality went without saying, who could’ve uploaded a five second video and been done with it.
It feels like a distant dream, sat on this sofa, his hand in Dan’s, taking one final breath. And then another final breath, and another, until Dan had whispered a “you’re hyperventilating,” a giggle in his voice. Phil had closed his eyes and pressed the button, pushed his laptop to the side and rolled into the awaiting arms next to him.
He can hear Dan moving around in the flat somewhere. He’s on plate and glasses duty, while Phil orders their dinner. He had some laundry to do, some emails to answer. There’s been no need for him to sit beside Phil this time and hold his hand, because it’s just another video.
“All done?” Dan calls from the kitchen.
“Yep,” he calls back. Dan walks through, carrying two drinks that look far fancier than anything Phil had been expecting. “Thought you were getting us coke,” he says, an eyebrow raising. Dan snorts.
“Coke,” he echoes disapprovingly, shaking his head. “We’re celebrating tonight, idiot.”
“Celebrating?”
Dan hands Phil a drink that looks far too professional to have been made in their kitchen, but Phil knows Dan has been dabbling a bit more in cocktails since lockdown began, and they couldn’t meet with Bryony for their usual evening drinks in her garden. Phil takes a sip and hums contentedly. It’s sweet and strawberry flavoured.
“Celebrating,” Dan says, sitting down next to Phil and closing his laptop. He holds up his glass and Phil takes the hint, lifting his own and clinking them together. “Happy one year of being out.” He leans forward as fingers gently take hold of his chin, pulling him forward until their lips meet. The kiss is sweet but chaste, and Phil takes another sip of his drink when they’ve pulled apart.
He’s put his laptop away but he’s on his phone soon after. His drink is resting on the arm of the sofa beside him and he has one hand intertwined with Dan’s. He’s scrolling through Twitter and liking as many tweets as he can before the pizza man buzzes and Dan groans as he gets up to answer. It feels so normal, and Phil is taken aback by the fondness of it all, just another day in the Dan and Phil house.
Every now and then he’s reminded how lucky he got. He was devastated at the time, but looking back, he’s so glad he got Dan instead of some guy who wanted him to put his job on the line for a box of chocolates. The future really had been bright for him. He could never have known what was waiting for him, but he’s so grateful to all the events that led him here.
He doesn’t have much of a chance to get emotional, because there’s a bang on the door and then Dan comes stumbling in, balancing four boxes in one hand and struggling with the door handle with the other.
“Don’t worry Phil, I’ve got it,” he grumbles sarcastically. Phil just giggles and receives an elbow to the back of his head as Dan walks behind him.
They’re quiet while they eat, Phil checking his phone every now and then when a text comes through. When they’re finished, Phil opens the video up on his phone to read through comments. He’s smiling to himself as he reads through them when he feels the gentle touch of fingers through his hair, and he looks up to see Dan watching him fondly.
“Hello,” Phil says softly. Dan smiles.
“Hey you.” He tightens his hand into a fist and tugs gently. “C’mere.”
Phil goes easily and soon he’s tucking himself in under Dan’s arm, hand still in his hair.
“All good things?” Dan asks. Phil looks up at him, tilting his phone so Dan can read it. There are still comments coming through, variants of “I’m so proud of you!”, “your video helped me so much!”, and a lot of comments roasting Kyle and telling Phil he could’ve done so much better anyway.
“What d’you think?” Dan says, tugging Phil’s hair lightly. “Did you do better than Kyle in the end?”
“Depends,” Phil says. “Would you steal a box of chocolates from a warehouse after closing?”
“Absolutely,” Dan says, deadpan.
“Well fuck,” Phil says, huffing a laugh. “Guess my type is people willing to break the law for food.”
“It’s the only valid type,” Dan says, leaning down to press a kiss to Phil’s lips. They spend a little longer reading through comments, Dan pointing out his favourites and Phil liking a few of them. Things have really changed so much since last year, when this was all new and still scary. Now, he knows he’s got this safe community of people behind him, supporting him and each other as they discover and accept themselves. It overwhelms him to think about it sometimes; he got more than he bargained for in the best way possible.
It’s early when he starts yawning and feels his eyes start to hurt from his contacts. His head is resting on Dan’s shoulder while that hand stays in his hair, fingers drawing shapes into his scalp, occasionally scratching and tugging at his hair. He feels so peaceful, he almost thinks he could fall asleep here. But Dan wouldn’t be very impressed, so he heaves himself up from Dan’s side and mumbles something about getting ready for bed.
Dan meets him in the bathroom while he’s brushing his teeth. He’s not wearing anything except his boxers, and he feels Dan’s eyes on him before he even sees him.
Dan walks right over and slots himself in behind Phil, head on his shoulder, arms circling round to link across the front of his belly. He begins to press kisses across Phil’s bare neck and shoulder, until Phil giggles and swats at him when he has to spit.
“What are you doing?” he asks fondly as he turns away from the sink.
“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” Dan says, frowning.
“I’m not opposed to it,” Phil shrugs, tongue sticking out through his teeth as he fails to keep a straight face.
“Dickhead,” Dan grumbles as he takes Phil’s place by the sink to brush his own teeth. Phil pokes him in the side as he heads out into their room, settling himself down in bed and reaching for the book on his bedside table. It’s not long before Dan is walking over and crawling into bed next to him, tugging the book gently out of Phil’s hands and dog earing the page, putting it on his own bedside table.
“Excuse me,” Phil says fondly, but Dan just presses his lips to Phil’s and skitters his fingers down his neck in response. When he pulls away, Dan is smiling at him a little dopily, and he blushes under those eyes.
“I feel like I don’t say it enough,” Dan says, shuffling down in bed until he’s lying down, and pulling on Phil’s arm till he does the same and they’re lying face to face, “But I’m so proud of you.”
“You say it plenty,” Phil tells him, reaching forward instinctively for Dan’s hand.
“Well I am,” Dan says anyway, looking down at the way their hands have twined together.
“I know,” Phil says. He sees Dan roll his eyes and grins.
“Just let me say it, will you?” he tries to glare over at Phil but it doesn’t really work. “I love you. I love seeing you get to be comfortable with who you are.” He scoots across into Phil’s space and presses one gentle kiss to his forehead.
“Thank you,” Phil says fondly, a little teasing undertone to his voice that he knows Dan won’t miss. “I love you too.”