Work Text:
It was such a Phil thing to do. That’s why he can’t help but laugh at himself. Their first American show of The Amazing Tour is Not on Fire, at Playlist Live, on the big freaking stage, and Phil falls right off. Completely off. Big bruise and those bandages as big as the palm of your hand required.
The recovery was okay, thanks mostly to adrenaline and anxiety. Phil wanted to salvage what he could of the performance. If his face wasn’t so red he might have been able to pass the fall off as part of the show. As part of his clumsy schtick. His branding.
Of course, the worry on Dan’s face was too genuine, as was the laughter when it became clear that Phil was totally okay.
When all is said and done and they’re back in their dressing room after having given as good of a show as they could, the pain is starting to hit Phil a little more. It’s like his body has only just decided he’s allowed to feel it.
He makes a face when the guy opening up the first aid kit rubs a wipe that makes his whole body sting, not just the wound. He catches Dan’s eye who has definitely seen the face and is holding back a smile. It makes his face crooked, makes one of the dimples very pronounced. Phil focus on that instead of the blood.
It’s not like it’s a lot of blood.
He’d just prefer to keep all of his blood on the inside, thank you very much.
There’s a couple of YouTuber things they could go to tonight. Dinner, a party, that sort of thing. Dan’s happy to have an excuse to say no, even if it comes at the expense of Phil’s poor leg. They head up to their hotel and order room service.
“Maybe we could make a hotel room service codex,” Phil suggests as he looks at the menu.
“I’m not ordering the same thing for months, even if you could survive off of waffles,” Dan says.
“Fair.” Phil stretches out on the bed with too-stiff sheets. His jeans are impossibly rolled up above his calf where they had to clean up his scratch and the more Dan looks at it the more convinced he is that it’s cutting off all the circulation to Phil’s leg.
“Here,” he says standing and reaching for the button at Phil’s waist.
“Danny,” Phil pouts, “dinner first! I’m starving.”
“Horny bastard, get out of those jeans,” Dan laughs. “Put on pyjamas or something.”
Phil looks down at the rolled up leg of his jeans and sees what Dan saw. When he pulls them off there’s angry red lines all around his knee. He changes into his Superman pyjama pants and picks a pasta dish that doesn’t seem to go wild with the cheese for dinner. He makes familiar pathetic eyes at Dan when he asks if Dan would do the actual ordering.
Dan agrees. “On the condition that you do what you thought I was offering earlier.”
“That’s not fair,” Phil pretends to pout.
“Look, I’m sorry you got hurt,” Dan smiles. “But I can’t do all the work around here.”