Work Text:
Antwerp, 2024
Dan isn’t a stranger to the adrenaline rush from doing a show. He spent most nights after Doomed shows either pacing his hotel room, jacking off in a venue’s shower, or staring at the tour bus ceiling, blinking as the hours went by. Sometimes he would text Phil, but the time difference was often against them.
One of the perks of a joint tour is. Well.
“Off, off, off,” Phil says but he's so wired it comes out offoffoff. Dan laughs, but he complies as best as he can, pulling the jumper off and throwing it on the floor of the hotel room.
They stumble out of their shoes, which is hard when you've got one thing on your mind, but they succeed eventually, and Phil pulls his jacket off. Dan grabs him by the waist and kisses him, but because they can't stop fucking laughing, their teeth clash together, and it's a whole mess, and it hits him that they're just not twenty-something year olds anymore.
They help each other out of their clothes successfully but not as gracefully as it could've been maybe. Hit the bed with Phil on top of him until he feels an ache in his side.
“Stupid rib,” he groans, collapsing next to Dan.
“I’m sor—” Dan is about to say for the millionth time.
“Shut up. Don't. It was my fault too.”
Dan turns to his side and rubs where he knows the pain is, hoping it soothes him.
“Hey,” he says, softly.
“Hi,” Phil says.
“One stop done.” He actually can't believe it. He's never felt lighter. And the thing is, he was already floating.
“Yeah.” Dan can see Phil's cheek lift as he smiles. “How’d I do? I felt a bit rusty.”
Dan wraps an arm around Phil's middle and settles himself against his chest. “You were perfect. You are perfect.”
“Aw. You big sap.”
“Fuck you.”
“There it is.”
💤
London, 2021
“Dan, it's okaaayyy.” Phil has to stifle a giggle.
They're in bed — finally. The builders finished too late for their liking, they found some energy to throw out the delivery bags (a vow they made is to not let them pile up in The Phouse™), and they changed into matching pyjama sets to celebrate the first night in their forever home. Dan was so excited, because he specifically got a pole attached to the headboard to secure a pillow for optimal comfort for their heads. Except…
“It’s not, it's not okay,” Dan exclaims. He stares at the pillow on the floor where it slipped off to. “I paid good money for that! It should work!”
Phil sighs. He takes Dan's hand in his and rubs circles on the back with his thumb.
“Dan. Danny. My beloved. Look around for a second.”
Dan rolls his eyes but he does as he's told. “What?”
“We’re finally here. In the Phouse.” He loses it at the phouse of it all. Curse their audience. It's hilarious, but so unserious.
Dan tries to fight his own laugh, but fails, because when have they ever not laughed together? It feels right, to hear it in their own bedroom for years to come. The lights are dim, on the lowest setting for ~vibes~ (Phil suspects they will never be brighter than this and prays for his eyesight). There's still some decor that hasn't arrived, but they have a shelf with photo frames of their families and Dan's Harrods bear and other knick-knacks they managed to get out of the boxes. He's sure Dan will change the configuration a bunch of times before he's satisfied. Then he'll buy more shit and change it up again. Phil loves him.
They sit beside each other and take it in. Their first night in the forever home. He can imagine a little dog at their feet someday. Not now. But it's there.
There are a few more steps in their plan before that.
“I literally did not think this day would come,” Dan says.
“I know. I never want to see another box ever again.”
“Yeah. But also, just. In this economy? And you know, with all of…everything about us. And that we can share it with them?”
“Crazy.”
“Crazy. Hey. Here's to us.”
“Hear, hear!”
“May our audience survive our eventual announcement!”
“Hear, hear!”
“May we get rid of builders soon!”
“Hear, h—I mean, there's a lot to do, but okay!”
“Appreciate the support anyway, darling. Shall we sleep?”
Phil stretches and lays down. He smiles. “Also, the pole doesn't have to be a total loss.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dan raises an eyebrow at him.
“Mm.” He wraps his index finger and thumb around Dan's wrist. “I’m sure we could figure out something to do with it.”
He pulls Dan down and kisses him but they're giggling too much, always too happy to kiss properly these days. Giddy in a way they haven't been since maybe moving to London.
Jesus. That was a whole other lifetime ago. They were two different boys. Or maybe those boys are still in there somewhere. Maybe they're downstairs in the kitchen, marvelling at the space they have to not cook. Maybe they're in one of the lounges, because yes they get their pick of two. Or maybe they're in bed, their bed, because they don't need to pretend they don't end their days in each other’s arms anymore.
💤
Tokyo, 2019
Dan loves Japan. He needs to find out how to move here expeditiously.
“We need to move here expeditiously,” he declares, falling back into his bed. “Or I do. You don't have to, if you don't want to. I know how you hate change.”
Phil throws his damp towel at him. Ew. “As if I'd let you move without me. You're stuck with me, Howell. You accepted your fate right here in this very city, remember?”
Dan feels his cheeks heat up. “That was not—shut up!” He tries to throw a pillow at Phil, who magically turns into someone with the reflexes of a predator and it hits the floor with a thud. “You spork. We don't speak of that. Also,” he sits up now, ready to hit him with a K.O. verbally, “I still don't see a ring.”
Phil pops his head out of the neck of the t-shirt he's putting on. Dan vaguely registers it as his own NASA cats ladies nightgown. “May I remind you of why that is, Mr. Marriage-Is-Just-A-Piece-O
of-Paper?”
Dan has no answer to that, so he responds the only way he knows how: by sticking his tongue out at Phil.
They're not…engaged, or anything. But Phil had asked him to spend the rest of their lives together, under a cherry blossom, in the cheesiest way ever, on their first trip there. They were going to intertwine their names together forever basically, with the book and the tour that year. Dan and Phil. The Amazing Book is Not on Fire. Without the internet / we never would've met. All of it.
Dan was nowhere close to being out to the people who're supposed to be closest to him. Not even considering it. But he was sure of one thing.
So Phil's question wasn't unsurprising at all.
Dan is his, no questions asked. It's an absolute truth in his book. As Phil gets into bed next to him, he repeats to his past self, and maybe God, thank you thank you thank you.
“Did my story about the capybara bore you?”
“What? No, sorry, just in my head.”
He settles into the bed. “Missed you.”
“I was with you all day.”
“Still. Not enough.”
He knows. Coming out is one thing; he didn't anticipate how much practice goes into the casual intimacy of being out. They don't really have to stop themselves from touching where they could be seen. But sometimes Dan still jumps back, and feels guilty for the rest of the day. They've talked it through, and he's texted his therapist about it. They decided it's because they still think what's theirs is theirs and there are certain parts they're not immediately going to be comfortable sharing. He wonders if there ever will be a time. No gaming channel, he's not on YouTube at all. In an Instagram post? God. No one thinks this much about all this as much as he does. They should just not give any fucks and post pictures of them kissing all the time. But even the thought of it makes him shudder.
Maybe someday. They've got a plan, after all. It took a while to take that first step, but it's bound to be easier now that the biggest thing is out of the way.
Phil has fallen asleep next to him with his glasses on. He smiles, and snaps a photo immediately, before taking them off and setting them on the nightstand.
Turns off the lights, kisses Phil on the forehead and goes to sleep, thinking of their forever home.
💤
Mumbai, 2018
It's their last night away from home for a while. Mumbai is loud outside—not unlike London, honestly.
Phil still wishes they would shut up.
His headache refuses to go away. He twists and turns and tosses himself around the bed that's too big and empty. Curse him and Dan for booking separate hotel rooms. Ugh.
He picks up his phone — winces at the blue light directly in his face, increasing the pain — and types a message to Dan:
Arf
Can you please come here
And can you PLEASE bring that magical healing potion for headaches
Ty
The reply comes in a matter of seconds:
moon butt
😔
do i get anything in return
Phil rolls his eyes. my love and affection? my undying devotion? the window seat on our way back home?
omw
It's too easy.
—
“Wow, your bed is huge. Mine barely has enough space for me and my laptop.” Dan spreads his arms up and down like he's making a snow angel.
“Did you consider putting your laptop away? Never mind,” he adds when he sees Dan pull an over dramatic shocked face. No time for a bit. “Please. Head.”
“I brought you a Sprite from the vending machine. That's why it took me so long. Apparently it helps.”
“I thought that was just for tummy aches.” He takes the can of Sprite anyway and gulps down a few sips. It doesn't help a whole lot immediately but he drinks it to focus on the sensation of bubbles and lime in his mouth at like, two in the morning.
Meanwhile Dan stretches as far as he can and makes the most ungodly sound in the world before curling right up like a little cat.
Phil manages about half the can, before he needs to pee. He comes back to bed and ditches his glasses, suddenly exhausted. There's a dull ache still there, but he thinks he can sleep through it.
He gets into bed and immediately gets as close to Dan as he can.
“Mmm, yes.”
“I knew this was a ploy to get me in your bed. You're so bad, Phil Lester.”
Phil curls into an even smaller ball as he feels Dan's arm snake around his waist. He nuzzles his chest and breathes him in. “You love me.”
He sighs deeply. “Unfortunately.”
💤
Detroit, 2016
The tour bus bed is too small. But the bunk is smaller. And Dan is not getting back in there.
Phil is sitting up, fast asleep, the only sounds around them being the roads outside and his nasally breaths.
Normally, Dan would let his legs stretch out in the bus lounge, but a sick Phil is a clingy Phil, so he's technically on duty, waiting on him hand and foot. Tour has been hard on his already-delicate state, as it's not even the first time he's been ill on this leg.
But here Dan is, pressed up against his warm body, as if fusing together would make it go away, or he could take some of it out from touch alone. He wonders, for maybe the tenth time, how someone who could open the door at any point, would react to this scene.
No one knows — not really. It's a fun mystery for the crew, he bets. They filmed a whole thing about competing for the bed, but there's a sign on the door that says Dan & Phil and he's in here more than he's not, though, sometimes he abandons Phil to slip into his bunk at four or five in the morning so no one suspects.
He knows it would be easier to just let people know, but his paranoia has a hold on him like nothing in the world. He's grateful Phil understands unquestionably. He's the only other person who gets it, Dan believes that.
They've got some time before the tour is done, and no big plans beyond that. Gaming channel stuff. Then 2017.
They're in talks to do some kind of travel show, but his heart's not really in it. He wants to be on stage forever, under a spotlight, speaking out to hundreds of crowds. The camera feels too invasive, too much like he's being interrogated even though no one else is in the room.
And what about Phil? He loves filming with him, playing games with him, doing stupid shit on that stupid wicker bed with him. Hell, Phil is not on fire hasn't gotten old yet. He's almost excited for it.
But.
There's a ticking clock.
Their conversations about moving, about finding a bigger place, saving up for a house in London are getting more and more serious.
Phil sighs loudly in his sleep and nuzzles closer to him. Dan squeezes his shoulder and kisses his sweaty forehead.
In his mind, Dan starts planning. They'll figure out the logistics later.
💤
London, 2012
The piece of wicker that falls on Phil's face is the last straw.
“Fucking piss,” he almost growls to himself as he throws his duvet off him.
They haven't been in this flat for more than four months and his bed is falling apart.
It came with the place, and since rent took all his money, Phil figured this was a win. Of course, he didn't really use the bed for sleeping until.
Well.
He gets out of bed, picks his comforter up, and walks out of the room.
Dan's door is ajar, and there's no sign that he's awake.
Phil slowly walks in.
“Hey, you awake?”
“Mmfh.”
“Listen, can I sleep in here tonight? The bed's—Can I?” It's fine. This is still Dan. He doesn't need to explain.
The pause that follows makes him contemplate every decision he's made to get here, and he's about to turn around to sleep on the sofa, but then Dan grunts and pulls himself to the side. His side.
Phil fights off a smile as he gets in and covers himself up. There's a small gap between them that puts Dan far, far away. But it's okay. This is closer than they've been for weeks.
He reaches out with one hand, hovering over his shoulder. Before retracting it and just turning away.
💤
Manchester, 2011
“You’re breathing on me.”
“You're breathing on me.”
“I hate this bed. This bed should kill itself.”
“Don't think beds can do that. And anyway, you should be nice to this bed. We've had some good times on it.”
“Please.”
“Remember that time when you tried to—and then I couldn't get my—”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh at my misery. I still have a scar from that, you know. Because of this bed.”
“We'll have our choice of two starting tomorrow!”
“Mate, you're out of your mind if you think I'm allowing your daddy long legs anywhere near me.”
“...what did you just call me?”
“I'm taking the sofa tonight.”
“Noooo.”
💤
Rossendale, 2009
The wind whistles outside and it's quiet in the house.
Phil’s body is chilled even though he could've sworn the heating was fine when he and Dan went to bed last night.
Dan. He looks to his left, where Dan's head is resting on his arm, mouth slightly open, fringe plastered on his forehead. There's a purple bruise-like mark near his collarbone. Oops.
The rush that came from seeing his face goes as quickly as it came as it hits Phil that Dan leaves today.
A whimper escapes from the depths of his throat at the thought. He quickly shakes his head and pulls Dan in close to his chest, knowing he's too deeply asleep to be disturbed by it.
What a thing to know. About his boyfriend. Younger Phil would've dropped dead. University Phil would have had an aneurysm.
A week of playing house and whispering I love you to each other and screaming it and writing it in the snow, Phil can't actually imagine letting Dan go back home. He wants to keep him here, in his bed, in his house forever and ever and ever. He's so in love it's actually ridiculous. He wonders if his parents felt this way. If Martyn has ever experienced his chest almost bursting because he feels so much for one person.
One day they’ll have a big house, in Manchester, maybe, or London, in Florida. New York? Wherever. He’d go wherever Dan wants to.
—
tell @danisnotonfire not to go home
💤
Reading, 2009
Phil’s blurry face yawns.
“I’ve kept you up too long,” Dan says, quickly, apologetic and guilty as ever. He peeps the time — it's almost three in the morning. He's been talking Phil's ear off for almost five hours now.
“Don’t be silly,” Phil replies, smiling. “I called, remember?”
He does. Dan hadn't finished typing his response to Phil telling him to come live with him, when he heard the Skype ringtone. Now he's been switching positions in bed since maybe ten p.m, venting about his gap year and not being able to keep in touch with the few friends he does have, and how much his dad has been riding on him about uni, it's all so fucking much, and Phil sat and listened to it all, interjecting to cuss out a friend who forgot about their meetup or roll his eyes at something his dad said.
Phil does end up laying down on his pillow and adjusts the laptop next to him. Dan smiles, and does the same.
“I’m serious, you know,” Phil says.
“What?”
“Come live with me. In my house.”
“Phiiiil.”
They're going to meet on Halloween in London, where everyone else will be too. Dan can't think too hard about it or he might throw up. To meet and be around people like him. Exactly like him. And Phil. People who are similar but won't be unsafe like the ones in school.
But meeting Phil before that…
“You could…like. My family’ll be gone in a couple of weeks soon. We could hang out in Manchester. We could film a video!”
Dan scoffs. You want me now that I'm the internet's hottest thing, huh?”
Phil grins. “Hey, don't forget who got you those fans.”
Dan sticks his tongue out at him. Being in Phil's bedroom. How is he going to swing that? What would he tell his parents?
He chews on his bottom lip. “I could tell them I want to tour the campus with a friend who goes there, not just do an Open Day…”
“Totally!” Phil says, enthusiastic as ever. “You said you do have a friend who started there this year, right?”
“Right.”
“Book the tickets! I'll text you the dates you can come around tomorrow. Everything else will fall into place after that.”
A beat. Things rarely fall into place in Dan's world.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” The end of the word gets lost in another yawn. “S-sorry. God, I'm getting old.”
“You are old, grandpa.”
“Piss off. We all need our eight hours. You do too.”
He stretches his arms up, and Dan catches a glimpse of his stomach just at the edge of his screen. He gulps.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Dan,” Phil says. “I’m going to make sure of it. My grandma passed down powers, you know.”
“I thought that was just fortune telling.”
“We all get something a little extra. I can see it now. We're going to change the world in ways you would not believe. danisnotonfire and AmazingPhil. We've already got the superhero names. Imagine the influence we'd have.”
“I can,” Dan says, laughing. “We’d ruin the youth with our furry agenda.” He glances back at the screen and sees Phil’s eyes have shut. On call. His shoulder rises and falls slowly.
Dan smiles. He whispers, “Goodnight, Phil,” and wonders what it would be like with him on his side.
Dreams about things falling into place.