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Daniel Howell is just about the definition of awkward. Every particle of dust or minutely raised floor tile he could possibly trip over he did, and his gangly limbs and tendency to flail expansively when speaking passionately – something he did quite a lot – led to more than a few busted noses and miffed classmates. That combined with his dry, cynical humor led many people to worry for him, as well as the safety of the people he was with. Daniel Howell was a walking hazard, and he knew that well.
Dan is also an avid procrastinator. Give him fifty years to do a project, and he would still try to get it all done the morning its’ due. He slides in to his English Lit. seminar just as the bell rings, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy from sprinting the last fifty meters down the hall. A few of his classmates look up with undisguised amusement, half-heartedly shuffling out of his way and he weaves his way around the giant circular table that takes up just about the entire room. Dr. Hamilton looks down at Dan through the spectacles perched low on his nose, muttering to himself as he marks Dan present. Dan mumbles an apology to the girl whose head he just clipped with the corner of his backpack, sliding between her and the wall on his way to the only available seat, which just so happens to be the one farthest from the door.
“Alright class, today we will be addressing if Daisy’s final choice remains consistent with her character progression over the course of this book. Tom, where on page 97 do you think the author foreshadows her descisi –“ Dr. Hamilton’s question is interrupted by Dan, who manages to catch his foot on the edge of someone’s backpack and send himself sprawling to the floor.
Fiery pain shoots up through Dan’s ankle and he hisses, barely biting back the slew of swears building up in his throat. The pain is just about enough to distract him form the entertained stares of his classmates, the girl whose bag he just tripped over making apology after apology as she scrambles out of her chair to try and help him stand.
“It’s okay, Amy,” Dan laughs through gritted teeth, waving off her extended hand. “Just me being clumsy, it’s all – oh ssshh – “ Dan gasps as he crumbles back to the floor after trying to put the slightest amount of pressure on his ankle. He glances down, wincing at the unattractive purple his foot is turning. Ankles aren’t supposed to be that big, are they?
Dr. Hamilton sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Miss Gens, please sit down. Daniel, can you escort yourself to the nurses office?”
“Kinda can’t stand,” Dan bites back, the waves of pain flooding his brain and making him forget for a second who he was talking to. “Sir,” he squeaks after a moment of tense silence.
“Alright, Mr. Howell.” Shit, Dr. Hamilton’s tone is icier than usual. “Mr. Lester, would you please assist your classmate to the nurse’s office?” Phil – the really attractive guy who smiles at Dan across the table every day who Dan most definitely does not have a major crush on – nods and stands. “Great. You are excused for the rest of the period,” Dr. Hamilton says, the boy sitting next to where Dan is sprawled on the floor mutters something about Phil being a ‘teacher’s pet’ under his breath. Dan most decidedly does not flush bright crimson.
“Come on,” Phil says, his voice deeper and rougher and sexier when it’s being spoken inches from Dan’s ear, rather than from across the table. “Let’s go.”
He wraps his – warm, strong – arms around Dan’s shoulder and hoists Dan to his feet, guiding Dan’s hands to circle around his waist. A few students snicker when the pair walks out, but that is quickly put to rest by Dr. Hamilton’s almost militant continuance of his earlier point about Daisy and character development. He’s back top attacking Tom as the door swings shut behind Dan and Phil.
“Okay, come on. Do you really have to mutter ‘ow’ every single time you try and step with your right foot?” Phil asks, exasperated, before the pair had even taken twenty steps down the hall.
“Yes I do, because it hurts like hell whenever I put even the slightest bit of pressure on it,” Dan defends, nose in the air.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Phil mumbles, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Dan ‘humphs’ under his breath.
The next this Dan is aware of is the world spinning worryingly and the desperate hope that Phil will manage to catch him before he adds a broken nose to his list of rapidly growing injuries. Dan flings his arms out, smacking them into something solid and warm.
“Ow,” the warm solid thing mutters, which Dan is beginning to suspect is not the floor. He opens his eyes and is met with one of the most attractive angles of Phil Lester he’s seen. Granted, every angle of Phil Lester is to-die-for attractive, but the one from below, where Dan can see every hint of stubble on Phil’s clean-shaven cheeks and just about count his eyelashes is something new.
“What?” Dan mumbles intelligently, the rocking motion and warm, comforting embrace Phil has him in drastically derailing Dan’s thought process. Wait, warm, comforting embrace?!
“You are holding me,” Dan states, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact.
“Yes.” Phil looks down at Dan as if he’s forgotten how to speak. “I am.”
“Why?” Dan asks. Phil snorts. “You were putting up too much of a fuss to walk and I have a biology paper I can work on with the rest of my newly free period.”
Dan feels incredibly stupid. “Oh.” He squirms as much as he dares, slightly uncomfortable.
“You okay?” Phil asks, readjusting his grip slightly. Dan nods quickly. “Are you sure?” Phil asks again.
Dan’s mind is reeling. What exactly is the protocol for this scenario? What does he do, what does he say? He doesn’t remember ever being taught about what to do if some really attractive guy is carrying you down the hall to the school nurse. Fuck, why don’t schools teach this type of thing?
“Nope, I’m all good,” is what he settles for, tucking both arms awkwardly up to his chest and trying his hardest to not move in the slightest. If Phil notices his voice is an octave higher than usual, he doesn’t comment.
Dan is just about falling asleep against Phil’s check when Phil speaks, the sound rumbling and deep against Dan’s ear. “Knock.”
“Huh?” Dan asks, opening his eyes and looking up. Phil sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute. Knock. On the door. The one right there?” Dan’s brain freezes, still hopelessly stuck on ‘cute’. Did Phil just call him cute? Dan think’s Phil just called him cute. He doesn’t know what to do with that information.
Phil sighs again and drops one arm from under Dan, causing him to squeak and throw his arms around Phil’s neck. Phil giggles, actually giggles, and uses his now-free hand to twist open the doorknob.
“Hello boys, what can I do for you?” the friendly nurse, a smiling, round-faced lady asks. Phil juts his chin down at Dan, who is still warily clinging around Phil’s shoulders. “This one fell in English Lit., think something happened to his ankle.”
“Poor dearie,” Mrs. Friedman tuts, patting the couch for Phil to set Dan down on. Phil steps over, carefully lowering Dan onto the faded blue cushions. Dan mumbles a thank-you by force of habit, twists his face into a grimace when his injured foot brushes the arm of the couch out of instinct, his mind still stubbornly fixated on Phil’s ‘cute’ remark. Phil doesn’t find him cute, does he? He only knows the guy in passing!
“Thanks for bringing him, Phil,” Mrs. Friedman remarks, taking off Dan’s shoe and sock and prodding the swelling joint. Dan squishes his face up, digging his fingernails into his own palms to try and keep himself silent.
“Of course,” Phil says, leaning back against the wall and watching. Dan cracks an eye open, biting his lips when Mrs. Friedman’s cool fingers brush over the inflamed joint.
“Don’t you have a bio paper to be working on?” he huffs out, situating himself back on the couch and gripping the cushion tight. Phil shrugs. “Not due until the end of the week. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
Dan lets out a breathless laugh. “You get invested easily.”
“So I’ve been told. Once I was playing a video game as a mother badger with five children. I constructed a shrine to commemorate them when they all got killed.”
“Oh my god.” Dan rolls his eyes, smiling. “You’re a nerd.”
“I’ve been told that as well, yes,” Phil sasses, pushing off the wall and walking over to where Dan is.
Dan’s adorable smile, dimples and all, is broken by a savage twist of his facial features, pain eminent upon them.
“Sweet mother of –“ he chokes out breathlessly, jackhammering forward. Phil flashes forward, worried. Dan flops back, grinding his teeth and hammering his fist into the couch.
“Oh my,” Dan groans, gingerly shifting himself up into a more comfortable position.
“Well, at least it’s just a sprain,” Mrs. Friedman bubbles, standing up with minor difficulty. “Easy enough to reset, but you’re going to need to be careful with moving for the nest couple of weeks. I’m pretty sure I have some crutches in the closet…” She opens the door behind her desk and steps in, leaving Dan on the couch and Phil standing next to him.
“And I take the train,” Dan bemoans, flopping his head back dramatically, throwing one arm over his face.
“I have a car?” Phil offers. Dan peeks out from behind his elbow, quirking an eyebrow up at Phil. “I can drive you,” Phil clarifies. “Where do you live?”
Dan opens his mouth to reply when Mrs. Friedman bustles back out of the closet, crutches in hand. “Here you are dear! I think they’re at about your height, but you can adjust them if need be. Keep that foot elevated as much as you can, and try to be careful for the next few days. Take an Advil if the pain gets too much.”
Dan makes a face, staring at Phil’s extended hand for a few seconds before accepting it, teetering slightly once he gets to his feet – well, foot. Phil wraps one arm around his shoulder as Dan wrestles with the crutches, taking a few tentative, wobbly steps before finally seeming to get the hang of it.
“Keep those as long as you need,” Mrs. Friedman says with a wave, closing the door behind the two boys.
“You have anywhere you need to be next period?” Phil asks, one hand hovering over Dan’s waist as the latter attempts to descend the stairs. Dan rolls his eyes. “Seriously Phil. I’m fine.”
Phil pouts, his eyebrows drawing together to form an adorably concerned expression and Dan’s knees almost give out for a completely different reason than his ankle.
“Yes mum, I am completely fine. I’ll live for the nest couple of weeks like this, okay, you can go no-“ Dan missteps, the crutch sliding out from under him and his body pitching forward. Phil seems to appear directly in front of him, and Dan finds himself in Phil’s arms for the second time that day.
“On second thought,” Dan reevaluates as soon as he gets his heart rate back under control. “You can stay.”
Phil grins, picking Dan up around the waist and setting him down gently at the bottom of the stairs. Dan stares at Phil suspiciously when he is set down, waving a crutch accusingly. “Are you sure you aren’t secretly Edward Cullen?”
Phil fixes Dan with an odd look, half amused and half concerned. “What I would give to spend a day inside your head.”
“You’d exit a changed man,” Dan snorts, beginning the long hobble to the door. “And no, I don’t have any classes the rest of the day. You said something about taking me home?”
“Yeah! I mean, if you want me to?” Phil says, suddenly flustered. Dan cocks a half smile. “Yeah. I would. And if you don’t have anything else the rest of the day, my house does have stairs I might need carrying up.”
“Oh so I’ve been upgraded to personal chauffeur, in every sense in the word?” Phil jokes, holding the door open for Dan. “Beauty before grace.”
Dan freezes, gesturing Phil through the door. “You said it, not me.”
Phil laughs, his tongue peeking out from behind his teeth and Dan seriously considers faking a fall again.
“Come on,” Phil says to Dan once they finally reach his car. It’s a perfectly regular car, sleek and silvery-blue.
Like Phil’s eyes, Dan notices, slapping his internal romantic as soon as he thinks that. He seriously needs to have a talk with his internal monologist about what is and is not appropriate.
“Back seat, so you can keep your ankle up,” Phil bosses, ushering Dan into the back seat, careful to not disturb his ankle in the slightest. Dan rolls his eyes as Phil shuts the door. Phil climbs into the driver’s seat, making deliberate eye contact with Dan through the review mirror as he puts the keys in the ignition and starts the car.
“Come on Dan. Level if not elevated, that’s what Mrs. Friedman said.”
“Legs up, I’ll keep that preference in mind for later,” Dan jokes, slouching back against the door and obediently stretching his legs up onto the seat. Phil rolls his eyes, but Dan can see he’s smiling.
“Muse okay?” Phil asks as he backing out, Dan humming in response. Distorted guitar fills the car and Dan leans his head back against the window.
They eventually make it to Dan’s house, with only a few minor wrong turns along the way.
“Okay, can this please be my primary mode of transportation?” Dan asks as Phil carries him up to his front door, setting Dan down gingerly on the bench on the porch before going back for their bags. Dan fishes his key out of his pocket and unlocks the door, limping inside and all but throwing himself face-first on the living room couch.
“Serious question,” Dan mumbles into the cushion when he hears Phil enter the house, closing the door behind him. “How are you carrying me so easily? You don’t look that strong.”
“Thanks, I think?” Phil says with a laugh, perching on the arm of the couch Dan is sprawled on. “Also, not technically a question.” Dan hits the closes part of Phil he can reach, which happens to be his shin.
“Come on. I want to go up to my room,” Dan announces, turning on to his back. Phil rolls his eyes but scoops Dan up. “Onwards, Patsy!” Dan cries, pointing Phil in the direction of the stairs. Phil laughs but obliges, bounding up the stairs two at a time just to scare Dan.
Dan screams and clings to Phil, laughing as Phil spills him onto his bed. “You ass!”
“I have a very nice one, so I’ve been told,” Phil quips back. Dan nods considerately. “Can’t really argue with you there.”
“So, did you have any plans outside of getting me in your bed? Phil asks as he flops down onto the sheets beside Dan, tucking his arms behind his head and hello arms.
“Can’t say I did,” Dan smiles back, turning onto his side. Does this count as flirting? He’s pretty sure it counts as flirting.
Silence falls between them but it’s a warm silence, filled with only the sounds of their breathing.
Suddenly, apropos of nothing, Dan manages to roll off the edge of the bed, landing face-first on the blue shag carpet.
Phil is howling with laughter atop the bed, leaning over the edge to make sure Dan isn’t actually hurt. “I was going to say I’m surprised that you managed to get a sprained ankle from tripping over a backpack in class, but now I’m not really doubting your abilities.”
Dan huffs a retort against the carpet, something that sounds strangely like “fight me.”
Phil grins, wrapping himself in Dan’s duvet and rolling off the bed as well, landing infinitely more gracefully next to Dan. He extends a corner of the blanket over Dan, burritoing the both of them snug together.
“You okay?” Phil asks, carful to keep his weight off of Dan.
“Hmmm,” Dan hums against Phil’s chest, being extremely mindful of his injured ankle. Phil grins and shifts closer, wrapping one arm down around Dan’s shoulder and placing the other underneath his own head.
Phil stiffens minutely with a tiny gasp when Dan starts nosing his way around Phil’s neck, brushing his nose and lips against the smooth, pale skin. Phil shuffles down slightly, wriggling awkwardly until he and Dan are at eye level.
Dan can feel Phil’s breath hitting his lips, and he shivers, subconsciously leaning in.
“Is this okay?” Phil asks, running his hand lower to grip at Dan’s thigh. Dan nods, breathless. “More than.”
Phil smiles and leans in closer, tilting his head despite his neck protesting at the awkward angle. Dan’s eyes cross and then flutter closed, his lips parted in anticipation.
“Can I kiss you?” Phil asks, his lips millimeters from Dan’s.
“Yeah,” Dan breaths, and Phil closes the minute space between them.
Dan’s breath catches on a sigh, fireworks exploding behind his eyelids and singing through his veins as he tentatively begins to move his mouth against Phil’s. Phil takes this as invitation, shifting up on to one arm without disconnecting them. He repositions himself, kneeling over Dan, the blanket hanging messy and forgotten off his shoulders.
Dan giggles, and Phil pulls back. “What?” he asks, and Dan desperately tries to tamp down the surge of pride that wells up in him when he realizes that he’s the reason Phil is sounding so blown out, voice deep and gravelly and sexy and wrecked.
“There have been five great kisses since 1642 BC,” Dan quoted with a smile, leaning up to steal another short peck. “And the precise rating of kisses is a terribly difficult thing, often leading to great controversy, because although everyone agrees with the formula of affection times purity times affection times duration, no one has ever been completely satisfied with how much weight each element should receive. But on any system, there are five that everyone agrees should deserve full marks.”
“Well,” Phil said with a smile, leaning down to nose around Dan’s ear. “This one left them all behind.” And he seals their lips together again, tongues sliding and twining together in perfect harmony.
*
Dan is still the clumsiest, most awkward human on the face of the earth. But at least now he has Phil to kiss all of his bruises better.