Work Text:
Their bedroom is completely dark except for the light coming from Phil’s phone. He holds it centimetres from his face, his neck bent to look at it with his glasses low on his nose and all his chins in full display. He squints at the screen. Like an old man, Dan thinks.
He’s on probably on Twitter, caught in an endless scroll. Dan hasn’t been on his phone in a few hours. Actually, maybe it’s been a day? He can’t remember. All the days have been melting together. Nothing has any meaning anymore. Time is relative.
And Dan’s phone is only a distraction from what he’s supposed to be doing. Which isn’t much, to be fair. But he’s a master procrastinator and hiding his phone in a desk drawer somewhere actually seems to make a difference. He’s able to tick items off the ever growing “to do” list of his life a bit faster. And he’s less anxious about the world. He’s still aware of the state of everything - that it’s a fucking mess. But at least he’s not contemplating the meaning of their fleeting existence every second of every day. It’s easier without the world of twitter constantly pinging on his phone to remind him. Phil doesn’t mind as much.
Anyway, Dan has better things to do. Like this. Lying in bed with Phil, sheets tangled around their bare legs and shirts thrown on the floor. It’s a hot night and Dan likes the feeling of sweating through the heat. Phil’s cooler. Dan’s not sure how he can stand being next to Dan, he always runs hot.
He needs a shower. Sweat sticks him to the sheets. The part of his shoulder that’s pressed to Phil’s has probably glued them together with sweat. It’s a nice feeling, but it’s kind of gross.
Being gross is a thing he’s grown to know too well, especially being with Phil for so long. They know each other inside and out, including, and especially, all of the gross bits.
He tries to shift out of Phil’s space, but Phil just follows him. He scoots his head down to rest on the squishy part of Dan’s arm. His cheek is damp. He moves his phone so that Dan can see better what he’s scrolling through. It’s Instagram, actually. Not that anyone has anything worthwhile to post right now. Still, life finds a way when you’re an Instagram model.
Phil doesn’t follow any of those. Dan’s not sure how he’d feel if he did.
It’s a weird part of their relationship that’s never been a real line, so he’s never sure if he’s crossing it. They talk about celebrity crushes and movie-superheros Phil finds fit. But, never real people or with real intent. And Dan makes his jokes about being a hoe, because he is. He just doesn’t act on it. He doesn’t need to.
People don’t get it, he knows. Don’t get why they don’t just call each other partners and get it over with. But it isn’t their fucking business either, when it comes down to it.
Dan’s happy. Phil’s happy. They’re happy together. That’s all anyone needs to know.
He’s always looking to Phil to see how he reacts to it all. Other people’s incites on Dan’s jokes and sexuality. None of which belong or matter. He still looks to Phil. He watches how his face moves as he reads the tweets and replies. He’s never bothered. He never asks.
Because there’s nothing to ask.
It becomes a jumbled mess in his head easily. Wondering about sex and commitment and attraction and the future. Dan knows none of it matters. But it stares him in the face every other day, daring him to care. Daring him to fall back over the edge of self doubt and fucking labels and not knowin where he belongs.
He’s been pretty good at ignoring all that shit. So far.
He looks at Phil’s scrunched face, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He’s so fucking in love with him. It punches him in the gut. He smiles like a goof.
This is all that matters, in their quiet home where they make the rules. Everything is safe here. Everything is warm. Everything is theirs.
Phil looks up. “What are you doing?”
Dan shrugs and Phil’s head moves with it. “The usual. Contemplating homosexuality.” He wonders if his sexuality will ever stop being a topic of conversation.
Phil shifts, sitting up and letting his phone get lost in the sheets. “What’s left to contemplate?”
“Just that I hit the idiot jackpot with you.”
“Aw, Dan,” he says, sarcastic.
“We’ve grown on each other like mold, Phil.”
“Yeah?”
“That’s super fucking gay.”
Phil giggles. He squirms around, hooks his ankle around Dan’s and pulls him down so that they tangle together.
“This is pretty gay, yeah?”
“Probably as gay as you can get.”
“Well, you just had your mouth on my dick a few minutes ago. I’d say that’s probably gayer.”
Dan shakes his head, mushing his face into Phil’s chest. “No. This is peak gay.”
“Peak gay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How is it peak gay?”
Dan hums. “Well, we’re in love and all that. I mean - even your wrinkly forehead is hot to me, Phil.”
“Hey! My forehead isn’t wrinkly.”
His hand has found its way into Dan’s hair. He pulls his fingers through the bush of curls until it bounces back into place.
“We both have wrinkly foreheads, bub.” Dan doesn’t mind these hints of age. It’s a nice reminder.
“Whatever,” Phil pouts, but doesn’t move away from Dan.
“It’s the little things.”
“The little things? Like my wrinkly forehead?”
“Oh my fucking god! I’m sorry I called your forehead wrinkly. I take it back, it’s not wrinkly. It’s as smooth as a baby’s butt.”
Phil giggles again. Dan loves hearing it. “I’m not sure that’s better.”
Dan throws an arm over his face, dramatic. “I can never win with you.”
“You win all the bloody time.” It’s not what Dan meant, but Phil’s not wrong.
He feels himself being squeezed as Phil pulls Dan impossibly closer. Their sweat sticking together in the creases of their elbows and the backs of their knees.
“Do you only love me for my body, Phil?” he jokes.
Phil’s always been clingy, and if he took that bogus love languages test he’d probably get mostly physical touch. Dan loves it.
Phil hums. “I like you for lots of reasons. Including your body.”
“You know I’m not just a dick on a stick, right?”
Phil makes a choking noise, “Did you just say dick on a stick?”
Dan hadn’t really thought about what that would sound like before he said it, but now it’s out there and it sends Phil absolutely reeling. He laughs and laughs and laughs, with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth and his eyes scrunched up.
Dan pulls his arms free from Phil’s grasp and attacks Phil with tickles.
“No! No!” Phil gasps. “It’s not a good time! Do not tickle me right now! It’s not a good-”
“It’s never a good time! You literally never want me to tickle you!”
Phil rears back out of Dan’s reach. “I will kick you!” He holds his foot up like a weapon, daring Dan to make a move.
Dan wiggles his fingers at Phil and lunges for him.
They roll around in their pile until they end up curled around each other again, breathless and wheezing with laughter.
Phil places soft kisses along Dan’s jaw and Dan is caught in the fondness of it all. He keeps taking mental pictures, never wanting to forget these little moments.
“You’re so weird,” Phil says.
Dan snorts, “You’re weirder.”
“Hmm. That’s what you want people to think.”
They lay there for a while. Two tangled people held together by sweat and all the other things. Phil’s phone buzzes somewhere by Dan’s foot, but they both ignore it. They’ll get up in a few minutes to shower and brush their teeth before bed. They’ll have to pull apart from each other, limb by limb. But Dan’s got every bit of Phil memorized. Phil’s never blurry, never half of someone else like some people turn in dreams. Phil is always Phil. And there’s rarely a night Dan has a dream without Phil in it.
He feels Phil sigh. He sounds stupid in love. Dan wonders if it will always be like this.
He doesn’t have to think about it too hard or worry about the changing world getting in the way. This is permanent. This is forever. They’ve already faced the world and a handful of other things. There’s not much they don’t know how to handle.
Even if Phil dyes his hair blonde or Dan gets a whole sleeve of tattoos, even if they never change their last names or wear rings on their left hands. Even if - everything changes. This will always be it for Dan. The one consistent thing he’s had in his life.
He pulls Phil closer. Phil presses his mouth to one of Dan’s hands, doesn’t even purse his lips, just connects their skin in one more place and smiles against it.
Phil sighs again, “Yeah. You’re right. This is pretty gay.” It makes Dan laugh, even though he knows Phil didn’t mean for it to be funny.