Chapter Text
It wasn’t that Dan didn’t like her. He’d had his fun times with her, and he knew he’d continue having fun times with her if he had stayed. He’d get to keep on playing with her long red hair, keep getting sweet girl kisses and sweet girl hugs and all of that.
He also knew there was a bit of himself that he hadn’t explored yet, and it was nagging at him every time he saw a guy on the street and couldn’t help but turn to look. He’d seen her question him with her eyes, but she’d never said anything.
He’d also known for a while that the guy he kept seeing wandering around at their regular night club gave him a feeling in his belly that was a bit different than just wanting to be friends with someone. The flutters in his heart that he couldn’t control when the guy walked past and he thought the pale skin might brush his own, when his electric blue eyes got anywhere near Dan (Dan’s eyes dropped, of course; he didn’t want to be weird), when Dan scanned the crowd and found a jet black fringe... that was when he tried to keep himself from wondering. He told himself the guy was just interesting, that was all, and Dan wanted to know what kept him at this particular club almost every weekend. The guy could have wondered the same thing about Dan and his girlfriend, but Dan was also sure the guy didn’t know he existed.
When she confronted him today, it hadn’t been more than a simple question: “You like that guy that’s always at the club, don’t you?”
Of course he’d thought about it. Of course he’d always wondered if it would mean he was gay, or if he was bi or something. Of course he’d tried to shove it to the back of his mind because he obviously liked girls, and he didn’t want to think about it any further than that. Plus, no one had ever caught on or asked him about it. In fact, now that he had been dating her, people probably never even wondered.
Except, she’d caught on. She’d wondered. She’d asked. And he had spluttered, trying to come up with an answer; he’d never answered the question when he asked himself, even. He’d never let himself answer.
“It’s fine,” she’d said, looking down at her shoes as he struggled. “I mean, if you’re unhappy with me because you want to go out and find some guy--”
“No! I’m happy with you. Being with you has been my life,” Dan protested, hating that defeated expression on her face.
“Yeah... but I’ve seen you. It’s obvious, Dan.” She sighed. “You’ve never been with a guy, have you?”
“No, of course not,” Dan defended.
“Yeah, but you want to,” she countered.
Dan turned away from her. He put his head in his hands and thought about all the times he’d wished he was a little less bound to a relationship, so he could go out and have fun, try something new.
He’d never entertained the thought for long, but the fact remained that he had still thought it, and that it was enough to make him pause.
“Maybe we should take a break,” he said brokenly.
“Yeah. Okay.” He could tell she’d been angry, but she was trying not to show it; she’d gathered her stuff and left.
Later that night, when the tears started pricking at Dan’s eyes despite a mini marathon of Buffy and a few hours of mindless video games, he figured it was time to go out, to the only place he knew would serve drinks strong enough to make him forget that three years of his life had just flown out the window.
When Dan arrived at the club and situated himself at the bar, alone, he glanced around to see if the black-haired relationship wrecker was here, but he didn’t spot him amongst the dancers, nor at the various tables that lined the perimeter of the club. Maybe the guy was in another room, but if Dan didn’t see him, it was just as well. He imagined a scenario where a piss-drunk Dan, raging at his recently acquired single status and his newfound attraction to men, found the pale-skinned heathen and took a swing at his face; it was a satisfying picture, but nothing he wanted to end up being responsible for. Dan was normally a pretty quiet bloke; he didn’t want to stir up trouble.
“Hey, Julia,” he offered to the woman closest to him behind the counter. Her stick-straight blond hair swished behind her back as she turned to see who was addressing her.
“Hey, Dan,” she returned pleasantly. He was one of the only few men who had never tried to hit on her while she was working, and for that, Dan knew she appreciated him. Consequently, she’d become almost a friend of his, with how often he frequented the club with his girlfriend.
“Where’s your girl?” Dan had known the question would come up, be he still sighed and looked away anyway.
“We broke it off today, actually.”
“Oh no!” Julia’s face fell, and she reached over the counter to pat Dan on the back. “You’re probably looking for something a little stronger today, then, aren’t you.”
Dan wasn’t a heavy drinker; he only ever had light, fluffy sort of drinks that his girlfriend had always called “frou-frou”. He didn’t really want to think about that right now. In fact, he wanted to forget. “Yeah, that’d be great.” He gave her a tight lipped smile.
“I’ll make up something... and this one’s on the house.” Julia gave him a wink, giving his shoulder a little rub before she left to make him a drink.
Dan wasn’t really sure what she handed him. He wasn’t the biggest connoisseur of hard alcohol, and he’d never remember the obscure name she gave it, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t here to remember the drinks he had.
He was on his third when he felt a tap on his shoulder from behind. He turned, and was just about to explain that no, he didn’t want to dance, he already had someone paying for his drink, when he was startled by a pair of blue eyes that seemed to cut into him like a shards of ice. His breath caught.
“Hey, mate. You’re looking sad.” It was the guy. The black haired guy. The relationship wrecker. He was wearing a smart, deep blue button-up that made Dan’s simple jeans and t-shirt ensemble look like it was from a second-hand shop, even though Dan had only bought the shirt last week. He spoke in a heavy Northern accent that made Dan’s mouth fall open slightly. “I’m Phil. What’s your name?”
It took Dan longer than it should have to find his voice. “Dan.”
“Mind if I sit down, Dan?”
“Sure,” Dan acquiesced automatically. Inside, he waffled about what to do as Phil sat; the scenario where he punched Phil in the jaw and yelled about him to the entire club seemed far away now.
“So, what’s happened? Get fired? Just gone through a breakup?” Phil asked, staring into Dan’s face intensely.
It was an extremely personal question, too personal to be the first thing asked after just meeting someone. But Dan’s intoxicated, sluggish brain couldn’t think of a different response other than the truth fast enough. “Breakup.” Dan took another sip of mystery drink from his glass, a good excuse to get away from the brightness of Phil’s eyes, and winced at the harsh taste, though he’d been doing this for at least an hour now.
Though it was none of his business, Phil reached over Dan to place his fingers on the rim of the glass, lightly sliding it away. Dan was going to protest, but just then he caught a whiff of Phil’s scent, strong when he was this close, and his synapses seemed to short out as all rational thought stopped. He couldn't even identify it; it just smelled good.
He leaned forward as Phil drew away, following the heavenly fragrance, before he realized what he was doing and stopped himself. He would’ve never allowed himself to entertain something like this normally, would he? He didn’t know. Everything in his mind was fuddled, like he’d immersed his inner self in a swamp.
“Hey,” he protested, shaking his head. Phil tsked.
“Alcohol’s not the best way of coping, you know,” he said, a mothering quality to his tone.
Dan’s resentment at this condescending statement reminded him of why he was angry at this guy in the first place. “What are you, my fucking therapist?” he spat with sudden renewed venom, reaching for his drink.
Phil put a hand lightly on his chest, keeping him at bay while Dan extended his arms, and Dan wondered fleetingly if Phil had been out in the cold; his hands were freezing. “No, not at all! Not at all,” he chuckled. Dan glared. “I just have something that might work a little better, that’s all.”
Dan dropped his arms and searched Phil’s face. What could he mean? A better drink? A rest? Some kind of meditation or new age “positivity” crap? Or was Phil coming on to him?
“Uh... what’s that?” Dan squeaked.
Phil gave a short glance around, presumably to make sure no one was watching or listening to their conversation; Dan took this time to notice that Phil’s fringe was a mirror of his own. No one was sitting around him, the bass from the dance floor was blaring, and Julia was on the other side of the bar, preoccupied with another customer. She was probably not going to come back over here now that Dan had a friend.
Phil rummaged around in his pocket for a moment before he extracted a small plastic baggy. He shook it out into his hand, letting a tiny, round pill land there. It was pinkish red, sort of like an ibuprofen, and Dan had no doubt that it could have been easily explained away as a pain pill. Yet, it shined up at Dan almost menacingly, as if it knew its own deception, and it loved it.
Dan’s eyes widened. “Um. I’m not. I dont--”
“Don’t take drugs? Yeah, I gathered that. You don’t really seem like the type.” Phil leaned down closer to speak into Dan’s ear, and Dan shivered. “But this-- this is something I’ve been working on myself for a few years now. Does fine with alcohol, isn’t addictive. Won’t make you do anything awful that you’ll regret in the morning. Completely safe.”
Dan stared at the offending red object sitting so innocently on Phil’s hand. Was this a sort of salesman tactic? He wasn’t buying it. “I’m not going to pay you for this thing, I don’t have--”
“Free of charge.” Dan frowned; what was the purpose of this?
“Look, mate. You’ve tried to sell me, you’ve failed. Now would you just--”
“I call it my ‘Happy Little Pill’.” Phil went on as though Dan had never interrupted. Wasn’t this what people said American businessmen were like? This was awful. “Doesn’t make you forget anything, doesn’t make you really have a high, even. Just makes you feel really... happy.” Phil’s eyes shined as he talked about his little creation. “No day after effects, though you’ll have some with all the drinks you’ve had.” Phil wrinkled his nose. “Much better than alcohol. With alcohol, you just... you drown in your own sadness, but you don’t even remember it in the morning. I mean, look at all these people.”
Phil swept his arm in the direction of the rest of the club, and Dan’s gaze followed almost against his will.
“They’re all here because they’re unhappy, for some reason. They all came because they weren’t having as much fun as they wanted to have, even if they were alight before they came. They all came here looking for something. Do you understand?” Dan remained silent, taking in all the dancers, laughing wildly, and all the people at tables, talking to each other, holding onto their drinks like their bottles were their lifelines. Phil put his mouth to Dan’s ear and whispered. “What if you weren’t looking for anything? What if you didn’t have to forget, because all of the sudden, everything you needed was right here?”
Dan was really listening now. He knew it was all a ploy, all just something to get him to take the pill and come back to Phil again for more, when he’d actually have to pay. But he couldn’t resist the idea. He could really use it about now. And... he’d never really felt what Phil was talking about, had he? He was always searching for the right major, the right people, the right path in life, the right person. He was almost curious as to what it would feel like.
Phil let the pill slide out of his hand and roll to a stop next to Dan’s. “I’ll leave this here, shall I? I’ll be in the back. There’s a few rooms there. If you have any questions, or, if you want to have some fun...”
Phil’s mouth curled upward into a suggestive smirk, and Dan felt heat rush into his cheeks as Phil’s inviting blue eyes bore into his own.
“I’ll be in room seven. I’m usually back there, anyway. See you there, if you want, Dan.” Phil dropped a subtle wink-- or did he? Dan wasn’t positive-- before he stood up from where he’d been leaning over Dan, and Dan could breathe again.
“Wait, could you tell me--” Dan started, but Phil was already gone.
Dan reached out for his drink absently to find it wasn’t there; Phil had taken it when he’d left. Instead of grumbling about this as he was inclined to do, he stared down at the little temptation Phil had so kindly left him with.
“I saw you talking with Phil!”
Dan gave a start and covered the pill with his hand as Julia approached once more. “Yeah,” he confirmed.
“That’s so wonderful! You should make friends, Dan! Everyone says he’s so nice... he’s always here making my customers smile. He seems like such a kind soul.” Dan scowled; sure, Phil made them smile. I wonder why, he thought sarcastically.
“Your customers came back, didn’t they?”
Julia laughed. “Of course they did! He doesn’t bite. He always cheers up the sad ones, it seems like. What a lucky guy you are, Dan.” She winked at him, and Dan stopped himself from rolling his eyes in frustration. Did everyone know he might fancy Phil? “He’s always back there. We save room seven for him every weekend; he’s one of our best customers.” Julia positively beamed. “Go talk to him some more, Dan, he’s such a ray of sunshine. He’ll cheer you up in no time.”
Someone called to her just then, and she gave Dan an encouraging grin before attending them. Dan uncovered the pill, staring at it. Was Phil really a nice guy? Was he really as trustworthy as Julia made him out to be? Did Phil really just go around trying to help people out?
Dan didn’t know, and he had no idea of knowing for sure. But he knew that if those people Phil had sold stuff to had all come back, then what he’d said about it being a one-time hit must be true, right?
He gulped, closed his eyes, put the pill in his mouth, and dry swallowed it before he could convince himself otherwise.