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Dan can smell the sweet, artificial scent of peppermint and espresso and musk before he’s even stepped through the door of the flat. Phil’s ordered a whole new batch of the plebby Yankee candles - the ones that Dan thinks are all the same formula, just designed differently, a capitalist hoax. But Dan can’t help but breathe in the scent nonetheless. It feels like coming home to Christmas. Their flat always becomes a sweet smelling, well lit wonderland in December and Dan feels so at ease in their quiet, little home.
Except this year. This year’s a bit of a mess.
Dan trudges into the filming flat, carrying far too many grocery bags for just two arms. Two trips will forever be for pussies. He sets them all on the counter of the kitchen, knocking over a box of tea bags and Phil’s partially opened packet of hot chocolate mix.
He can hear the sound of the tv coming from the other side of the room and glances over to see Phil sprawled across the sofa, covered in his old green and blue duvet, mug cradled in both hands and eyes fixed on the tv screen.
“This is a shit film,” Phil says, unprompted.
“Hello, honey, I’m home. Thank you so much for your help with all the bags, I really do appreciate it. Being your partner is the light of my life,” Dan snarks, pulling off his mask.
“Sorry, they were doing a musical number and I couldn’t bring myself to pause it.”
“What are you watching?” Dan asks, slumping on the sofa next to him. It may be shit and old, but settling into his sofa crease feels like coming home. Phil beside him as well. It’s all nostalgia and that feeling in his chest. It’s getting to be a familiar thing.
“The Polar Express. It’s one of the ones on Disney plus. But it’s sort of rubbish. Like, the animation is really freaky. And the main kid kinda sucks.”
“It’s a film made for children.”
“People said it was a classic! There was an outrage at the fact that I hadn’t watched it!”
“And there will be an outrage at your official review. A bit shit.”
“I can see why people like it.”
“I can see why people like your mum.”
“She’s a lovely woman. She’s sending mince pies. Why are you all grumpy?”
Dan shrugs, shuffling closer to Phil. It’s bloody cold outside and Phil is all curled up and looking like warm. Dan wants to shove his face into the crook of Phil’s neck and press himself as close as he can until he feels melted. Everything feels frozen and tense and he’s forgotten what it’s like to breathe without a mask on. The air is fresher just by being next to Phil.
It’s not really the mask that makes it hard to breathe. It's being away from Phil. When he feels cut in half and only 50% functional. Coming home doesn’t mean anything if Phil isn’t there. But he is today and he was yesterday and he will be for the foreseeable future. Dan can hardly believe it, even after all this time. At least today it doesn’t feel suffocating.
He lets out a long breath. “Being outside makes me anxious. And I don’t feel Christmasy. Your Christmasy vibes are too much.”
He’s got a Christmas jumper on, too. One of the knitted ones that Dan forgot they owned. He’s gone all out. If Dan pulled up the duvet he guesses that he’d see Christmas socks as well. Dan is in all black, the usual. It’s the blackest of all the blacks, though. To match his mood.
“You want to finish watching the movie with me? Maybe it’ll jumpstart your Christmas vibes,” Phil says, shoving his nose into Dan’s hair and pressing his lips there. It’s small and nice and sweet and warm. It feels like how the candle smells. It makes Dan’s stomach go warm and the tips of his fingers tingly. Five minutes home and he’s already drunk on Phil.
The cold air outside does it to him, makes him crave touch and warmth and how it feels to be loved by his person. The only thing he’s ever wanted.
He breathes out again, hoping it will steady the beating of his heart. “I want to put away the groceries first. I got some Christmas treats. And some… special secret items that I need to hide before you see them.”
Phil jumps up and his eyes dart towards the kitchen. Dan grabs his wrists before he can move and holds them down by Phil’s side. Phil braces against him, vibrating under Dan’s grip.
“You can’t just say that, Dan!”
“Self control, Lester!”
“You’re the worst.”
“I’m the best. You’ll see… Watch your weird film.” He crosses Phil’s arms on top of his lap and tucks the blanket around him like a duvet prison, tucked tight enough that he won’t be tempted to move again.
Phil huffs and burrows further into the sofa. “The song about hot chocolate was fun. The train conductor is kind of fit.”
Dan stands and looks back at Phil, raising an eyebrow. “Do I need to be jealous of a 2D train conductor?”
“He’s more like 1 and a half D. Ha… ‘d’ like--”
“I dare you to finish that sentence.”
Phil reaches an arm out of the blanket to press play on the remote and the film starts again. “See for yourself,” he says, gesturing to the screen.
Dan looks for a second, and shrugs. “Yeah, kinda fit. For a guy with a mustache.”
He puts the bags away and finds a secure hiding place for Phil’s treats. The red and green marshmallows go high above the cupboards where Phil won’t be tempted to reach for them at 3am.
It’s all coming together at the same time that Dan feels a little like he’s fallen apart. He’s tired, basically. His feet hurt from the cold and his back has started to ache from standing all day. He doesn’t remember having such low stamina for normal human activity. Phil finishes his movie while Dan’s banging around the flat, slipping on the tiles in his sock feet as he hurries to hide something away in a closet that’s overflowing with cardboard boxes and dirty clothes.
“You alright?” Phil calls from the sofa. He’s had a lazy day in, and Dan hates him for it. The one day Dan decides to be productive and Phil sits gloating in his pile of blankets and his stupid smelling candle burning through the wick to the very bottom.
His step count must be atrocious.
Dan groans and mumbles something like “fucking fine” before reappearing in the lounge.
He feels defeated and draws out the look on his face so Phil can feel it too. Maybe Phil will make him dinner as a thank you for doing the shopping and tidying up. Normal, domestic partner things that Dan relishes on a normal day, in a normal year.
Phil looks up at him and grins like he’s trying not to laugh.
“What?” Dan asks, entirely unamused.
Phil shrugs and pats the spot on the sofa next to him. “Come on. You’re still a big grump. Sit down.”
“Will you make me pasta?” Dan tries, sitting down next to him and folding his arms against this chest. He pulls his knees up to his chest, making himself a ball of - grumpiness. He doesn’t have enough energy to make himself a good person to be around right now.
Phil leans over and kisses the top of Dan’s head, making him go a little warmer. “I’ll make you pasta later. First, I’m going to give you a makeover.”
Dan frowns. “Fuck off, Phil. No. What the fuck?”
Phil pats Dan’s cheek. “Trust me, yeah?”
“Uh, no.” Dan shakes his head. “Literally never.”
“Hush,” Phil drawls, pressing a finger to Dan’s lips. And Dan’s supposed to be the dramatic one. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you comfy.” He hops up off the couch and skips into their bedroom without slipping on the tile.
Dan waits in the lounge while he listens to Phil bustle around their bedroom. He’s probably tossed all of Dan’s belongings out of his carefully neat and ordered suitcase. The room will be a mess later and Dan will be the one to pick it all up.
Once he reappears, he’s got a bundle of clothes hidden behind his back and his old pair of emoji pyjamas. He holds those out first. “Blindfold! It has to be a surprise.”
“Are these clean, Philip?”
Phil hums, “Hm. Mostly.”
Dan rolls his eyes, having no idea what that means, and ties the pjs around his head. Whatever Phil has planned, it better be fucking good.
Phil moves Dan around like a puppet. First, he clumsily pulls off his black jumper and the tshirt underneath. Both get stuck on Dan’s head and almost pull off his makeshift blindfold, but Dan holds it in place like Phil instructs. He’s shirtless in the lounge and Dan wonders if Phil actually has some ulterior motives he hadn’t caught onto. He’s not exactly in the mood, but he could be coerced with the right words from Phil whispered into his ear.
But soon enough, another jumper is being jammed over his head. He can tell that it’s knitted and the collar comes up close to his neck. It’s less fitted than the one he had on before. He wonders if he could guess at which it is just by the feeling.
Then Phil’s onto his trousers. He pulls Dan forward to the edge of the sofa and reaches around his waist to slip his belt off. Dan gets a good whiff of Phil’s shampoo with him knelt down in front of him like this. He wonders if his other senses are being heightened by the blindfold. The smell mixes with the peppermint candle into something so Phil-like Dan can hardly focus.
After his trousers go his socks, and then Phil is shoving a soft pair of joggers up his legs. He lifts Dan up just a bit off the sofa to get them over his ass and then he’s slumped back down into his crease. The socks are soft, too. Almost fuzzy.
He doesn’t feel frozen anymore. If anything, he feels too warm.
“Are you done yet?” Dan asks, squinting at the blue bursts that have started appearing behind his eyelids.
“Almost,” Phil says, and then a hat is being crammed onto his head, completely messing up his hair. “Now I’m done.”
“Can I take off the blindfold?”
“No! Wait! I’ll take you to the mirror and we can do a whole reveal.”
Phil leads him to their room where Dan’s floor length mirror leans against the wall across from their bed. Dan’s sure Phil’s going to lead him straight into a wall, but they make it through the flat without any casualties. Phil places Dan in front of the mirror and pats his bum. Dan’s not sure what that’s for, probably just good measure.
Dan can hear him rustling around with something on the floor and then something scratchy is being thrown over his shoulders and around his neck. He has a sneaking suspicion that Phil has decided to decorate him like a Christmas tree.
“Can I see now?”
Phil chuckles beside him, closer than Dan had thought he was. “Yep. Go ahead.”
Dan reaches behind his head to untie the stupid, yellow blindfold. The pyjamas fall to the floor and Dan’s left with the sight of himself in the mirror, decked out in full Christmas gear. Phil has dressed him in his old knitted jumper and his comfiest joggers and some of Phil’s festive socks and his black Santa hat shoved stupidly on his head, topped off with gold tinsel wrapped around his neck like a scarf.
“What do you think?” Phil asks. He’s sat on the bed and hiding behind his hand as he tries not to laugh.
Dan looks at him with murder eyes, but fights back a grin. It isn’t the outfit, it’s Phil’s stupid face that makes him want to laugh. This wasn’t for him, it really wasn’t. Phil just thought it would be funny.
“D’you feel more Christmasy now?” Phil asks, grinning far too wide.
“I don’t know. Externally, sure.”
Phil taps the side of Dan’s head, like a knock. “What’s happening up there, huh?”
Dan shrugs. “The obvious things. I’m sorry that we can’t see your parents. I’m sorry we aren’t in the house like we planned. I wish we could postpone Christmas. Just so that we can… catch up with it. I’m not happy enough.”
Phil smiles, but Dan can see the lines around it and the years that have added to them. Dan knows there’s something under it that Phil doesn’t always let him see. It’s been a year, and he knows he’s not the only one feeling it’s effects.
“I know…” He shakes his head, and again, “I know. But, we’ll make the best of it. We always do, yeah?”
Dan swallows the lump that’s formed in his throat, and nods. “Yeah. You and me, bub.”
Phil kisses his forehead, and both his cheeks, and the tip of his nose, and, finally, softly on his mouth. “You and me.”
***
Dan wakes up to an empty bed. It’s still dark in the room and his phone blinks 4am at him. He can’t hear Phil stumbling around in the adjacent bathroom, and squints through the dark to see his glasses gone from the bedside table. The fool never wears them to the toilet in the middle of the night. He says he uses his other senses… and it’s just a piss, Dan.
He will forever deny having a problem with his aim… glasses or not.
Dan finds him in the lounge, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and untangling a bundle of lights from one of their Christmas storage bins.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Phil looks at him, wide eyed and Dan notices the dark circles under his eyes. “We haven’t decorated the tree.”
Dan crouches next to him and brushes his hair off his forehead. “We don’t have a tree yet, Philly. Remember? We aren’t getting one since we’re in the middle of the move.”
Phil shakes his head. “But I thought we could decorate one of the houseplants because then at least it would feel more festive and maybe you’d feel better about it…. but then I got scared that we put the lights in storage with everything else. But we have them, and whoever put them away last year, fuck Dan, they’re a tangled mess—“
“Phil,” Dan interrupts. “Stop. We can worry about this in the morning.”
“What?”
“Sleep, love. It’s time to sleep.”
“But the tree…”
“The tree will be there in the morning. We can decorate the whole flat. Tinsel and ugly light up reindeer statues. The whole fucking shebang,” Dan says, taking the lights out of Phil’s hands and putting them back in the bin.
“Can we decorate Norman’s tank?”
Dan giggles and smiles. “Of course.”
“He should have silver and blue tinsel. Oh! Could we get a mini Christmas tree?”
“Sure, bub. Come on, sleep now.”
Dan hooks his hands under Phil’s arms and tugs him up to standing. They lean against each other, arms circled around each other’s shoulders, while they move towards the bedroom. Dan carries Phil’s too familiar weight and lays him back down on his side of the bed. Phil catches Dan’s shoulder and brings him down on top of him, rolling them so they lie face to face, their legs kicked sidewise on top of the covers.
“I love you so much, Dan,” Phil says, lazily kissing whatever skin he can reach. His lips find Dan’s jaw and latch on.
“I love you too, you bloody vampire. Sleep, you buffoon.”
Phil smiles against Dan’s cheek and hums. “I love Christmas. I think I fell in love with you and Christmas at the same time. I think that’s why I love it so much.”
Dan feels his heart squeeze and it takes everything in him not to cough in Phil’s face to relieve the pressure. It’s everything and it aches. Phil leaves him absolutely floored with all of the emotions he never knew he was fit to feel. Sometimes he feels like he’s choking on it.
He doesn’t dwell on it, because if he did he’d probably start crying like an idiot and he’s afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop.
They fall asleep, tangled together on top of the covers, keeping each other warm.
***
It’s too bloody cold to go for a run, but Dan’s learned it's better for him to freeze his balls off than to stay cooped up all day. He goes a little crazy, especially now that they’re stuck in the second flat for another couple of weeks.
The longer he stays inside, the harder it gets to convince himself to go outside again. Isolation makes for a brilliant breeding ground of overthinking and hypothesizing of the worst case scenarios, Final Destination style, that await him in the outside world.
It’s probably the last day that’ll be warm enough for a run. He’s dressed in thermals and his curls are squished down by a less than aesthetic knitted hat. But, he stays warm, so it’s almost worth it.
He sweats in the elevator back up to their flat, shedding his outer layer and the hat, but can still feel the heat radiating through his tight shirt and leggings. He can’t wait to strip naked as soon as he’s back in the flat and step straight into the cold spray of the shower.
He walks into their flat, his shirt halfway off and on its way to his floor, when something stops him in his tracks.
Something is - Phil stood on top of a chair on his tiptoes and stretching to peer over the topmost kitchen cupboard.
Dan finishes pulling the rest of his shirt off, dropping his coat and hat and gloves onto the floor next to his shoes, which he’s toed off as well. Phil hasn’t noticed him come in, and Dan stands staring at him for a long moment, just to see what the fuck this goon is up to.
He clears his throat. “Excuse me? You won’t find anything up there.”
Phil jumps, rocking backwards and just barely catching himself on the edge of the cupboards. “Shhhhh-iles!” He turns to look at Dan, a horrified look in his eyes, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, or whatever. “Dan! You’re home!”
“And what is it that you were just doing?”
“Why is your shirt off? Are you wearing leggings?” He looks dazed, distracted, keeps glancing between the top of the cupboard and back at Dan’s naked chest.
“It was hot. What were you doing? Hm? Just.. having a little snoop around?” Dan tilts his chin up and fights a smirk. He knows exactly what Phil was doing - he does it every year. He’s a snoop, that Phil Lester.
Phil’s voice comes out squeaky, his cheeks have gone pink. Dan’s not sure if it’s from all his skin on show or the leggings or the embarrassment of being caught snooping, but all are just as likely. “I was looking for the… baking trays.”
“The baking trays? All the way up there, Lester?”
Phil shrugs, hopping down to sit on the chair, his hands in his lap like he’s being reprimanded. He looks more cheeky, with half an eyebrow raised, than truly guilty. The man has a very skewed moral compass when it comes to presents and patience.
“I wasn’t sure where you put them after you burnt that loaf.” He looks up at Dan through his eyelashes, because he knows what he’s doing. Stupid, with his sparkly fucking eyes and his quiff gone all messy. Dan really can’t stand it. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or that he’s full of love or the fact that his bones are melting after being in the freezing cold, but suddenly all Dan wants is to be wrapped up in him.
“Oh yeah, sure. Don’t try and change the subject by bringing up the one time I stooped low enough to attempt sourdough.”
One thing Dan had learned in lockdown is that he is not a baker. And bread in general can get fucked.
Phil stands and picks up the chair to return it to its spot by the table. It's the orange one, the one that Dan usually sits in. Something small like that shouldn’t have an affect on Dan, but it, somehow, actually does. Phil sets the chair back down and turns to - it doesn’t matter. Dan is on him as soon as he spots an opening.
He wraps his arms around Phil’s middle and squeezes. Phil squirms and pulls and pushes at Dan to let go, but Dan latches like some kind of bear sized koala. He won’t let go, no matter how many fingers Phil pushes between his arms to separate them.
He’s giggling - wheezing, tongue no doubt poking between his teeth. “No, no! Dan - stop! Ah! I’m gonna fall!”
Phil crumples to the ground in a pile of arms and legs, wrapped up in Dan. He’s still only half dressed and sticky with sweat from his run. They lie tangled up in the middle of the kitchen floor. Dan wrestles around, trying to trap Phil under his arms, pushing until he’s got the upper hand. Phil only relents when Dan bites at his collarbone and swipes his tongue, just to add a bit of a tease.
“Jesus - Dan! We’re on the floor!”
Dan wrenches Phil’s hands up above his head and locks them against the floor. Their fingers intertwine, like it’s a romantic gesture and not something power hungry. Dan just wants to see him like this, red faced and under his weight. He wants a moment - a quiet one, where he just gets to stare at his face for a second. He’s Phil hungry, that’s all.
Phil’s panting now with Dan pressing all of the air out of his lungs, leaning his weight onto his chest. He’s smiling, and Dan knows he can’t help it. It’s not a carefully practiced grin, it’s this full, toothy smile that cuts his face in half.
“Dan.. what- what are we doing?”
“You were snooping for your Christmas gifts, Phil! This is your punishment.”
“It’s not like I found anything,” Phil pouts.
Dan rubs his thumb across Phil’s eyebrow, spreading the hairs the wrong direction and smoothing them back into place. He can feel Phil’s breath on his stomach, coming out in short bursts.
“I know. You do it every year, so I’m good at hiding things. I have to be.”
“Because I snoop?”
“Of course you snoop. And then when you find something you’re not as excited on Christmas day and it ruins all the fun. You like surprises but you have no fucking patience, you dummy.”
“Hey, you love me. I’m not a dummy.”
“You can still be a dummy and I can still love you at the same time.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course.” And then, “Dummy.”
“You’re all warm and naked--”
“Only half,” Dan corrects.
“Naked enough. I like it. But you’re kind of crushing me, mate.”
“Fuck off, I like you like this.”
Phil tries to raise an eyebrow again, raises both. “Kinky.”
Dan smacks his cheek lightly and rolls to the side, letting Phil up. They stay sat on the floor for a while, legs still tangled over each other and Dan half in Phil’s lap.
Phil pushes the curls off Dan’s forehead.
“Whatcha looking at?” Dan prods.
Phil hums a tune. Dan doesn’t catch it, but it’s probably a Christmas carol. He’s had them on repeat playing throughout the flat for weeks since the 1st of December. “You’re too pretty, Howell.”
“Am I?”
“I just had a really weird thought,” Phil says, taking his hand away suddenly and looking away.
Dan catches Phil’s hand and holds it in both of his own. “What?”
Phil shakes his head and won’t meet Dan’s eyes. He stares at a spot on the tile, an icing sugar stain, probably. “It’s weird.”
“Everything that comes out of your mouth is weird. Just tell me. No secrets, ever.” Dan pinches his nose and Phil glares at him. Well, at least he’s looking at him.
Phil sighs, and squares his jaw, as square as it can get, and takes another breath. “I don’t know. I think I’d have your babies if I could. Why was I thinking that? Babies. But yours, specifically. You have… good bone structure.”
“Oh, it’s the bone structure, is it?” Dan teases, smiling.
Phil elbows him and frowns. “I wasn’t really joking.”
Dan places his hands on either of Dan’s shoulders. “Phil, if science ever reaches the point, I promise you, you can have my babies.”
“But haven’t you ever thought about it?” Phil barrels on, shaking his head. He won’t look Dan in the eye for more than a second. “Christmas with a family. That’s ours - just ours. Like, with little traditions and biscuits for Father Christmas and little stockings on the mantle. I guess it’s Martyn’s fault that I’m thinking about babies. I don’t know--”
“Of course I think about it. I used to want to be a Dad, when it felt really far away, I guess. Now, I mean, I think it depends on a lot of things.”
“You want to have my babies too?”
Dan chuckles. “Phil Lester babies sound like a nightmare. The best nightmare. A nightmare I would love so much I wouldn’t be able to… I don’t know, I feel like my heart might burst if I think about it too long.”
Phil giggles, tongue going between his teeth. Dan loves how predictable he is. Or, maybe just how easy it is for Dan to predict him, not anyone else.
“Can I take that as a yes?”
“Yeah, Phil. I’ll have your babies.”
Phil grins, and then frowns again. “But, since we can’t have them, you think we could start…” His face has gone serious, and Dan’s smile falls.
“You’re really thinking about this, aren’t you?”
Phil shrugs.
“I mean, one day--”
“But we’ve been saying that for years, Dan. Soon one day is gonna be here and we won’t be ready for it and then we just… won’t.”
Dan nods. “Okay. You’re right. Can we talk about it again in the new year?”
“Seriously talk?”
Dan presses his lips together and smiles, real and full of fear. He nods. “Seriously. Let’s see how we do as uncles first, too.” He presses a small kiss to Phil’s forehead, and then both of his cheeks, and then the tip of his nose, and then, finally, to his mouth.
Phil beams.
***
Dan is sat at the PC when he hears Phil on the phone in the other room. His mum calls more than normal these days, mostly just to chat. Sometimes it’s an entire family affair, with Martyn and Corn in their own little box on a zoom call and Dan and Phil in another and Phil’s parents in another.
Phil was meant to call her this week to catch her up on the delays on the house and how they’ve been getting on in the second flat. She’d been concerned about Dan and his routine. She’d rambled on about taking care of him and making sure he’s still drinking enough water and to not let him stay in bed past noon. She’d said it all to Phil on a call that Dan was not a part of, but he’d heard through the tinny speakers of Phil’s laptop while working in the other room.
Like today, he can hear every word exchanged between Kath and Phil. Something about the mince pies she sent in the mail and wondering if they’d gone stale. Dan goes to put his headphones on, since he hasn’t been able to concentrate all afternoon and this is just another noise that needs cancelling out, but stops when he hears his own name.
“How is Dan, really? It was so much easier to keep up with you boys when you were always up to something,” he hears Kath say on speaker phone in the lounge.
“He’s alright, mum. He’s normal, just like always. Working on the book. There’s lots of editing to do and he’s keen on getting this round done before the new year.”
Kath mumbles something back and then, “I am grateful you have him this year, love. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you were all alone. I can’t stop thinking how lucky we all are.”
Phil makes a sniffly noise and Dan wonders if he’s gotten emotional. “So bloody lucky. I’m honestly sort of excited to have him on Christmas. It’s weird, I get him all the other days of the year, but Christmas feels like us, and we’ve never actually spent the day together. Maybe I shouldn’t--”
“No, dear. I think that’s perfectly lovely. I will miss you. So much. It won’t feel like Christmas without you and Martyn.”
Phil laughs quietly. Dan can see the face he’s making in his head - he just knows. “A different kind of Christmas, I s’pose.”
Dan can’t bring himself to listen anymore. It’s true that this Christmas won’t feel like any Christmas they’ve ever had. Some parts of it have their benefits, like the fact that Dan won’t have to board a plan on Christmas morning or worry about packing his bag on Christmas eve. But, the whole thing won’t feel right. At least, for a day, they’ll get to forget about all this weight that’s been weighing on them for the year. Forget and celebrate all that they have left.
The luck - whatever Phil wants to call it, Dan will believe in. How lucky they have been, to have each other through it all. Each other, and their health, and their genuine happiness, and their home, their new home on the horizon, and projects in the new year. Everything has changed, but some things feel exactly as they should. Like Phil beside him in bed, his head on the other pillow and his stupid snores vibrating through the mattress. His plebby candles melting through the flat and filling it with gross Christmas scents, and the tinsel strung along Norman’s tank, and their makeshift Christmas tree, the lights hanging stupidly around a houseplant.
And it feels like home. And, somehow, it feels like Christmas. It’s all fucking predictable, and Dan couldn’t be more grateful for all of it - for Phil, for the end of a dreadful year, and for all that is to come.
***
They stay up until midnight on Christmas Eve, just like every year.
Christmas Eve has always been their Christmas Day, just one day early. They stay up until midnight, watch Die Hard, even though Dan kind of hates it, and they make hot chocolate and the good kind of microwave popcorn. They eat all of the cookies they’d baked for Santa and the mince pies Kath sent, which had successfully not gone stale.
Dan keeps feeling like he’s forgotten to do something, even though he knows he hasn’t.
Phil’s dressed them both in festive jumpers and insisted on it being a pyjamas only day. Dan slips around the apartment in just his slippers, like a penguin, and dances to Christmas music with Phil in the lounge, the bells on Phil’s hat jingling in the wrong key.
Dan twirls Phil around, slipping his hand around his waist and pulling him in. Phil goes to dip Dan, before Dan slips out of his grasp, not trusting Phil not to drop him.
It’s not extravagant or ordered or regular. There are traditions that belong to them that Dan will never give up, and new traditions that begin by accident in this unconventional holiday, but Dan can’t quite keep his head on straight throughout the day. It’s all anticipation for tomorrow and his eyes shifting around the flat to make sure everything’s in place, and that small part of his brain that attempts to convince him that none of this is right and he shouldn’t be allowed any of the happiness that comes with being with Phil alone in a flat that isn’t really their home in a year that’s seen so much pain and sadness.
Phil’s smile only falters at the dining table while they eat dinner, with all of the empty chairs around them and the pasta Dan cooked for them not holding up to their normal tradition. He tried, and Phil eats it like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted because he knows Dan is watching him.
Dan tries hard for the day to feel special, to feel like a day that’s theirs. He lights all of the stupid candles and turns on all of the lights and even wraps a strand of tinsel around his own neck. He insists on taking some self timed family pictures with Norman, and Phil frowns like Dan is taking the piss, but he’s bloody serious and Phil better go stand by the tank before the timer ends. And he does. And the photos are ridiculous, but at least they’re something.
It is something. It’s quiet and warm and full of kisses and sex more than once and Love Actually after Die Hard, because Dan gets a movie pick, too.
Phil falls asleep on his shoulder an hour in. They’ve been holding hands for just as long, fingers tangled together and Dan’s palm has gone sweaty under the fluffy blanket they’re sharing. Phil’s head lolls onto Dan’s chest, and he’s snoring with his mouth open. Dan can feel the little breaths on his neck.
Phil is settled across the couch in between Dan’s legs and settled against his chest, because it’s Dan’s favorite way to lie on the couch when one of them is bound to fall asleep. Sharing heat and weight and never too far out of reach from the other.
Dan rubs Phil’s back up and down and underneath his jumper, smoothing out the skin underneath and moving in little circles.
Phil nuzzles his face further into Dan’s neck like a cat, making little whimpering noises. Dan melts into the feeling, the fluttering in his chest and stomach never going away when Phil is this close.
I want this forever.
“I want this forever,” he says, out loud.
Phil whimpers again, a soft moan of a sound. And a quiet, “Wot?”
Dan cranes his neck to press kisses to Phil’s head. Sometimes it feels like he can’t stop kissing him, touching him, wanting to swallow him whole - all of him, not just the sexy bits.
The sound from the movie is muted and the whole room smells of pine and peppermint and vanilla and Phil’s shampoo. Dan didn’t know he could ever be more in love than he was when he was eighteen and feeling it for the first time. But this settled feeling, safe and sound and domestic, is something else entirely. It’s everything, actually. He’s never felt so whole, so entirely himself and like he is exactly where he’s supposed to be.
And, for just a moment, he forgets about the heaviness that’s been following him around for twenty nine years. For a moment, they exist in another galaxy, where the world starts with Phil’s head rising with his chest, and stops at their bare feet tangled up under the blanket, Phil’s cold toes pressing against the sole of Dan’s left foot.
Dan hauls Phil to bed once the movie ends, pulling off their clothes and tossing them on the floor to be dealt with later. Phil snuggles up to Dan as soon as he joins him under the covers, hooking his leg around Dan’s hip and pulling him as close as possible.
“Are you asleep?” Dan asks.
Phil hums. His eyes shift under his eyelids, like he’s in and out of a dream.
“It’s Christmas, Phil. Merry Christmas.”
Phil shuffles forward and kisses Dan, opening his mouth to slide his tongue along the inside of Dan’s cheek, making little noises of content as Dan kisses gently back.
When they part, Phil says, “Merry Christmas, Dan.”
“Are you sad you aren’t with your parents?” Dan blurts before he can think better of it.
Phil kisses him again, long and slow. “I’m happy as long as I’m with you.”
***
Dan wakes up too early, and he knows something is wrong.
Phil is sat up in bed next to him with his phone to his ear and a fingernail in between his teeth. He’s nodding along to whatever the person on the other end is saying and he looks terrified and exhausted.
Dan reaches for his phone and 5am blinks back at him.
He can’t tell who Phil is talking to, not by the little “uh-huhs” he’s making and the quiet murmuring coming from the other line. Dan waits, propped up on his elbow, until Phil hangs up to see what’s happened, who’s died, what great new tragedy has befallen the world.
Phil turns to him. He looks shell shocked. “Corn’s had the baby.”
Dan scoffs. “What? What the fuck? I thought someone had died! That’s fucking brilliant, Phil! Why do you look sad?”
“I’m-I’m not. I just, fuck, I can’t believe it. I’m an uncle. Martyn’s a father! What? What?” he stutters.
“We’re uncles. A Christmas baby!”
Phil’s eyes go wide. “What! Yeah! Oh my god! It’s a Christmas baby!”
“Did he say the name?”
“Nope, haven’t settled on it yet.”
“I still say Daniel is quite nice.”
“Hey, we have to save it for Dan Junior.”
“Dan Jr? That’s what we’re doing, are we?”
Phil wraps his arms around Dan and pulls him closer, settling back into the blankets. “Oh yeah, one Daniel Jr. and one Philip Jr. and then Susan 1 and Norman 2 and Walter--”
“Okay, it’s decided. You will not be naming our children. Also, how many is that, fucking, four? Five?’
“Seven, if we’re lucky.”
“Phil, we are not having seven children. My body couldn’t take it.”
Phil giggles, mouthing along Dan’s bare shoulder idly. “You’re not having them, remember?”
“Who do you think is taking care of the little stinkers? It sure as hell won’t be you.”
“I’m a great fish dad.”
Dan chuckles and nods his head. They’re quiet for a moment, and then, “Martyn will be great.”
“Of course he will. He’s brilliant at everything.”
They go quiet again, and Dan wonders if Phil has fallen back asleep. They won’t be getting up for a few more hours, even though Dan is buzzing with excitement. In another world, they’d be throwing on their clothes and calling a taxi and rushing to the hospital to see Martyn and Corn and the new little baby. In another world.
In this world, they’ll go back to sleep and wake up in the morning and go about their day. They’ll make coffee and pancakes and watch an anime or Dan’s silly reality tv. They’ll open gifts and maybe Dan will convince Phil to fuck him on the sofa since it’s a special occasion. They’ll lay blissed out on the cushions until the mess gets too much for Phil and they’ll take a lukewarm shower together, since the water heater never works hard enough in the winter.
It’ll be just like any other morning, except with all the specialness of spending a Christmas morning together, like they’ve never had before.
Phil stirs. “I think James is a nice name.”
“My middle name?” Dan asks.
“Mhm. Just a thought.”
“For Martyn, or for us?”
Phil sighs, burrowing into the blankets like he does when he’s about to fall asleep. “For us.”
Dan never thought he’d live to see this day. It’s fucking overwhelming, all this bloody happiness. Fuck, it’s terrifying. He can’t believe it. That he has this, that this is his present and that that will be his future in just a few hours - and whatever else after that.
Whatever else, maybe they are ready and they just don’t know it.
He can’t believe it. A Christmas baby.
***
They open presents sat on the floor in front of the sofa, just like they do at Phil’s family home every year. It makes Phil feel more like a kid on Christmas morning, like he hasn’t gotten old and boring and actually asks for socks because he needs them when he really wishes it was acceptable to still ask for video games and Buffy merch.
They both splurge on a few things for each other throughout the year, but it’s a mostly understated gift haul with little knick knacks and candles and things to decorate the new house. It’s hard to get a person a gift when they already have everything they could ever want or need, and that’s Dan and Phil. Content in a way they never thought possible.
Phil’s last gift from Dan is a folded up piece of paper that’s been hidden in Dan’s pocket all morning.
Phil unfolds it carefully, glancing up at Dan like he’s been sneaky, which he has.
Dan watches Phil’s face light up in a way he’s never seen before.
“No!” he exclaims, clutching the piece of paper like it’s his most prized position. “You didn’t!”
Dan grins, the smile splitting wide across his face. It’s exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. “I did.”
“What? Is it a rescue? Is it a he or a she? Or are we not assuming it’s gender? Oh my god, Dan! What? How?” Phil rambles on.
Dan giggles, not able to hold back his happiness at Phil’s pure joy. He starts to explain, “I was stalking adoption sites for a few months and this guy was just… perfect. He’ll be ready to come home in the new year, once we’ve settled into the house. I wanted to do it for Christmas, but then the house got delayed and I didn’t want to bring him here and I didn’t want him waiting and alone on Christmas, and it was a whole thing, but I worked it out with the adoption place. He’ll be ours on the seventh.”
“Oh my god. We have a son, Dan!” Phil drops the paper and lunges at Dan, tackling him to the ground in a big hug. Dan is so happy and so scared and so ready. More ready than he’s ever been before. The picture of the adorable corgi on the piece of paper doesn’t even begin to express what an amazing dog Dan has found for them, and he can’t wait to take Phil to meet him.
“Can we name him Walter?” Phil asks.
“Why Walter?”
“I don’t know, I just get a Walter vibe.”
Dan chuckles, tickling Phil’s sides. “Let’s make a list.” A list of baby names. Who has he become? Nothing he could have predicted when he was eighteen.
“This is the beginning of our family tradition, I s’pose. The Howell-Lester family,” Phil says, still leaning over Dan. He leans down to kiss him on the lips a little too hard. “I have a surprise for you too.”
Dan quirks a brow. “You? Really?”
“Mhm.”
Phil hops up and jogs to the bedroom, returning with something clutched in his hand. He tosses it at Dan without a second look. Dan manages to catch it in the single greatest show of athleticism he’s ever achieved.
The box is velvet and Dan can’t breathe. He doesn’t open it.
“What is it, Phil?”
Phil shrugs, sitting back down on the rug next to him with his legs crossed. “It’s just a gift, Dan.”
“What does it mean?”
“Open it, won’t you? God, you’re so annoying sometimes.”
Dan chuckles and gives him a look. Then, he opens the box.
It’s a ring. A matte black metal that’s cool to the touch. Dan is close to hyperventilating.
“Which finger does it go on?” He can’t bring himself to look at Phil and his stupid blue eyes. Which he knows, because he’s memorized the look of them, have flecks of yellow and a small ring of green in them. Because they’re his eyes as much as they are Phil’s. The eyes that he knows better than his own. The eyes of the person he’s attached to - Forever, he guesses.
“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one that called me your husband to that journalist.”
“You know I don’t care about the ring or the ceremony or the title, right? I don’t need that shit,” Dan says, finally looking up at Phil. The look on his face isn’t assuming or anticipating, and Dan can tell he hasn’t got a speech prepared or anything. He’s telling the truth, it isn’t a loaded gift. It’s just a gift. Phil knows everything Dan thinks before Dan even says it. Of course he’d know how he’d react to this. Of course he’d know what Dan really wants.
And what he really wants is a ring. Even without the signed papers or the big party or the announcement. The security he’s found in Phil and their life together has always been the only thing he needed to be sure of.
And a ring is just a nice reminder. It’s cool.
It will make him seem cultured.
“‘Course. It’s not a big deal, but, I want you to be able to look at it and know you’re mine. And anyway, I’ve heard they’re nice to fidget with and you’ve got to stop biting your nails. Here’s a solution. Look at me, being all thoughtful, put that in your book.” He smiles back at Dan, eyes soft around the edges as he waits with no expectations. Never asking Dan to be anything that he isn’t.
Fuck, Dan loves him.
Dan takes a deep breath, and without a second thought, he puts it exactly where it should go, on his fourth finger.
“Merry Christmas, Phil.”