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Phil is clumsy.
Need I say more?
Yeah...
Phil is prone to at least one accident per day, which is unfortunate and slightly frustrating for his boyfriend, Dan. Almost every day he has to help Phil clean up broken shards of ceramic mug off of their kitchen floor, or mopping up the smelly mess. He had to give him pep talks every time, ensuring him that he was meant to have limbs, but his body just wasn't used to them yet.
It's okay though, because he would rather help him clean up the shards than help him pick them out of his feet.
They were going to film a collab, and they were in Phil's room, getting ready to start filming. Phil was setting up the camera and the lights while Dan was sat on Phil's bed, scrolling through Tumblr. (Trolling teh forums as always.)
"Hey Phil, after we're done filming, do you want me to start the editing? I need you to do the dishes today." Dan had said, looking up from his phone and straight at Phil.
"Sure. Hopefully I won't drop anything this time." Phil smiled nervously, recounting the thought of the last time he did the dishes, when most of the floor was covered in shards of glass from a cup he had accidentally smashed.
"Hopefully." Dan chuckled, knowing what Phil was thinking of. 'He'd better not break another goddamn glass.' He thought to himself, cursing Phil's clumsiness.
***
Once they were done filming, each of the boys did what they had promised. Dan went off into the study to begin editing the video, and Phil trotted to the kitchen, mapping out a game plan, a strategy he named 'The No-Shatter Plan'. It reminded him of his cracked phone screen, making him cringe and sigh at the thought.
He stopped in the center of their kitchen, let out a deep breath, and headed towards the dishwasher, muttering a pep talk to himself.
It really does seem silly, but Phil is so goddamn clumsy that doing this is just an essential part of doing the dishes. If he didn't do this, he'd get cocky, and after getting all cocky, he'd go ahead and smash a plate with his butterfingers.
The dude just can't hold fragile objects.
He opened the dishwasher and settled on putting away the silverware first, ensuring his precious toes' safety.
Unless he dropped a knife.
Then he would be fucked.
But- he didn't drop a knife, and finished putting the silverware away without a scratch on his body. (Which is pretty normal for any other human, but hey, this is Phil we're talking about. What would you expect?)
Phil was procrastinating now.
He really didn't wanna put away those plates; they were bound to shatter as soon as he held them in his hands. So, he occupied himself with a bit of Crossy Road, and soon realized that he still had bowls to put away, so he put his phone back in his pocket and picked up a bowl, and took a deep breath.
He managed to put away each bowl without fail and was rather proud of himself, and just as he was taking a bow for the imaginary crowd that was roaring with applause, his fifteen seconds of pretend fame was diminished as he realized-
Plates.
There were six to put away.
/Shit./
He moved closer to the dishwasher and opened the cupboard where they belonged, and picked up a dish, and managed to put it in the right place without dropping it.
'That was pretty easy...' He thought to himself, and he gained confidence at his little victory. He began singing a little song that he made up, 'The Dish Song'.
"Putting away the dishes, just look at me, putting away the dishes, look it's easy!" He said as he picked up a plate and placed it in the cupboard. "Putting away the dishes is so fun, it's great for anyone!" He sang happily, as he picked up another plate, and turned on his heel. "Putting away the dishes, it's as easy as one-" he stepped towards the cupboard. "Two-" He managed to step on a tiny puddle of water, and began to shake it off of his sock. "Thr-AAAAKKKK!" While shaking the water off of his feet, he slipped and dropped the plate, and managed to land his bum right in the clear spot without any ceramic shards, but his feet landed right in the pile, and he was overcome with tiny specks of pain in his toes-then turning to full-blown knifes in his feet.
"DAAAAAAN!" Phil moaned out, stifling a sob from the pure sharp pain in his feet. He couldn't stand up on his own- he couldn't even move.
Dan came running into the kitchen, and he was wearing shoes, unlike our clumsy friend over here, who's feet were now bleeding a bit, due to the hundreds of specks and shards of plate stuck in his feet.
"Oh my-FUCK!" Dan said, hissing. He shut the dishwasher and pulled Phil backwards, away from the mess, and ran off to the bathroom to get the first-aid kit.
"Phil, are you okay? What even happened?" He asked as he kissed him on the forehead, the cheek, the other cheek, and then on the lips. He pulled Phil's socks off and began to pick off the bigger pieces of ceramics off of his feet, Phil whimpering in pain.
"I'm kind of in a lot of pain but I guess I'm okay, but I'm pretty sure I'm gonna need stitches. As for what happened- OW." He interrupted himself, and sucked in, Dan still picking out the pieces of plate from his toes.
"Oh, sorry Philly." He said, as he leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.
" 'S okay. AnyWAAYYS-OH GOD THAT HURTS..." Phil exclaimed, and Dan let out a little nervous yelp. "I was singing a made up song about dishes and then I stepped in a puddle of water, and as I was trying to shake it off of my foot, I fell and dropped the plate.
"Phil, that's quite possibly the most adorable and the worst way to go down in the middle of our kitchen, also, we're gonna need to take you to the hospital. I can't get anything else out- let's get some gauze on your feet." Dan said quietly, and leaned over to hug Phil and rubbed his back. "I'm so sorry Phil. I should've just done the dishes myself... God dammit I love you Phil."
"I love you too, Danny. Now can we go to the hospital?"
"Right." Dan kissed him on the lips briefly, and began to wrap his feet in gauze.
***
When they arrived home from the hospital, Phil was in crutches, Dan was a blubbering mess and Phil was smiling like a psycho. His feet didn't hurt anymore- and he did get stitches, but Dan would not stop apologizing and kissing his cheek. Although it wasn't necessary, he liked it, but he needed to calm him down.
"Phil, I feel horrible about this... I should've known you would've dropped something and cut your feet... I'm so so so sorry Philly, I love you so much-" Phil put his hand on Dan's face.
"Dan, it's fine. Really. I just need a hug, cuddles, and Buffy. Is that okay?" Dan nodded against Phil's hand, and Phil removed it, and caught Dan's mouth in a sloppy kiss, and a tight hug from him.
Until they decided to go to bed- they cuddled on the couch, watching Buffy and Sherlock, as Dan occasionally kissed Phil's forehead and whispered sweet nothings into his hair.
"Thanks for helping me, Dan."
"I love you so much, Phil."
"I love you too."
Three days of stitches and crutches would suck- but it was better with a little Danosaur to cuddle.