Work Text:
Dan isn't exactly a fan of hotel rooms. Never has been. They're inherently a pretty odd place. It's just you, barred walls, generic decorations and an unnatural degree of cleanliness. And sure, he can get lost on the internet pretty much anywhere, but there comes a time when he has to close his laptop and attempt to fall asleep.
And then, his mind starts to drift. He doesn't have anything to hold onto then, nothing familiar, just space and time before the morning alarm. Even when he's not falling down the obis of his own mind, he still struggles to fall asleep in places that aren't home, feeling like he needs to say on alert, like anything could happen and he's got to remain ready for attack. So more often than not, family vacations meant him staying up so late that he doesn't fall asleep so much as falls into a coma at 4 am, waking up exhausted and with large circles under his eyes.
Everything's easier in places that have already accepted the imprint of you as their own.
But, as he comes to learn, a person can be your home, too.
Dan tries not to think about it much, to be honest. Because surely that's a bit strange? To let someone's mere presence be enough to center you, to make a strange place feel safe, to make the darkness seem like an adventure rather than a trap?
Still, he can't help but think back to where it all started.
-
The first time it happens, it's so natural that he almost misses it. They're at a con, small YouTubers hoping to meet the people they admire. It's Dan's first time and his whole body is buzzing. He's been making videos for about 6 months now, will anyone have a clue who he is? Charlie McDonnel is scheduled to attend. Dan wants to tell him about how he's been an inspiration to him, proof that you can be weird and creative and very much loved on the internet. Of course, it doesn't go quite as planned, and while he's sure that someday, this might be a funny story, right now, he feels like everything but laughing.
Angry, frustrated tears are threatening to overflow. He tries to blink them away.
His and Phil's room are connected by a door and Phil must hear him pacing around, because he pokes his head in. He doesn't ask Dan if he's okay, which Dan kind of wants to hug him for, instead, he just asks: “Up for some video games? Can't sleep.”
Dan think he's full of it, because Phil's been yawning all the way through dinner, but he can't seem to muster up enough energy to politely decline.
“Sure,” he agrees.
They play Mario Kart, because that's easy and fun and Dan's actually good at it.
Dan falls asleep sitting up mid game, and Phil obviously didn't feel the need to make him move as they wake up to the sound of Phil's (meowing) alarm clock and head to breakfast.
“Thanks for last night,” Dan says.
“Of course,” Phil nods. “You are buying me breakfast though, otherwise I'm just a cheap date,” he adds cheekily. Dan laughs. He's surprised by how easily it comes.
*
Of course, time is a funny thing. Now, at 25, he's more confident when he approaches his idols. He's so much happier than he could ever imagine being, having just celebrated his birthday in the land where dreams come true and chicken wings fly themselves into your mouth whenever you're hungry. Or so Phil says, anyway. It might not make perfect sense, but that's what makes it fun.
He's happy. He's happy in ways he didn't think he could be. Feeling like you've made a mark on the world can make you feel amazing.
Still, it's the last day of VidCon and he's alone in his hotel room – their hotel room, really, as walls might separate their bedrooms but the time where he could separate things to Dan's and Phil's category have long come and gone – having faked a stomach bug to get out of a group hang out at Zoe's room. Phil's managed to let Louise rope him into filming a quick collaboration and without both of them there, Dan just feels out of place and he's worked all day and toured for months and really, it's okay to be antisocial in circumstances like that, right?
Still, when Zoe's saying goodbye to him by the door, she says she'll send Phil to check up on him when they filming's done, Dan should tell her it's not necessary. Because he's okay.
He doesn't.
Instead, he keeps thinking back to a panel they were on. After the usual waffle about how anyone can make it on YouTube if they're passionate and lucky enough, someone from the audience asked John Green about how the style and content on vlogbrothers changed a lot throughout the years and why. “Well, we're not the same people anymore,” John had smiled. “I'm so old now I'm not only middle aged, but I also have a middle aged younger brother,” he joked. “We care about different things. I became a dad, twice, so I see the world in a different way. I actually think that our format is pretty similar, but waxing our chins and punishing each other for not posting videos on time isn't where we're at anymore. And ideally, the art that you make, be that books or movies or YouTube videos – they're a snapshot of who you are at that particular moment in time. Otherwise, people know you're not being genuine.”
It's barely 10 pm but suddenly, Dan feels very, very tired. Exhaustion is soaking through his bones like poison. He drags himself to bed, not bothering to change beyond kicking his trousers off, and drapes the covers over himself.
And yet, twenty minutes tick by and despite being so sleepy he could cry with it, he can't make himself fall asleep. His head is buzzing with thoughts he cannot seem to capture into words.
He thinks about the tour ending. They decided not to go to Europe after the US, instead opting to release a movie made up of what they've filmed both of the show itself and selected backstage material. They're premiering it in a few months, and after that, there's no plan.
He thinks about how everything about what they're doing feels like closing a chapter, about how coming back into the safety of their London apartment and just continuing on, one danisnotonfire video a month, maybe one radio show a month if they pick them back up again, along with a few gaming videos, not having the faintest idea what his long term goal seem more tiring than doing a world tour could ever be.
He's happy, he truly is. But he wasn't always, and the feeling of dread that took over him when he quit law school and let the feeling of not having a purpose eat him alive for months – he doesn't want to go back. It's like his past self is haunting him.
Lying in his VidCon hotel room, not being able to sleep, he feels a burning urgency to do something – and he would, it seems like a direction should be right in front of him, but he cannot bear make himself see it.
Ideally, the art that you make, be that books or movies or YouTube videos – they're a snapshot of who you are at that particular moment in time. But who is that? He is an entertainer. He is a YouTuber. He is a friend. Phil's friend, his mind supplies, startling him.
What does that mean though? And how long can it last? Being Dan and Phil, it's a part of his very fabric now, seeped so deep in that if you took it out, he'd fall apart and disintegrate.
But it's going to change, they're going to change, and every logical bone in him tells him they're bound to change in ways that are going to separate them. Phil's got plans. Phil wants a future that is more than their flat and their channels, he wants a family and security and with the tour finished, it feels like the end of an era.
And what if the next chapters of their lives mean going their separate ways?
-
Playlist 2012 is the craziest experience Dan's had to date. It's the first time it really settles in, how many people actually know him, how many people will scream for him when prompted to. How a number on his computer screens translates into reality in all kinds of scary, unknown ways.
There is now an abundance of people who like him that didn't come from Phil's channel. There are people who prefer him, who want him all to themselves. There are also people who want Dan and Phil to be something Dan doesn't let himself think about. Who think that the flirty nature of their early relationship, forever captured on the internet, out there to find for anyone who's looking – there are people who think they took the leap of fate neither of them ever dared to, who think that the lines made of sand they've drawn to protect the sacredness of their friendship only exist online.
And Dan doesn't know what to do with any of them, he just wants a minute of silence, a breath that can be taken freely, a chance to just figure it out –
but that doesn't happen. Instead, he's constantly bombarded with questions left and right, questions he doesn't have answers to so he reaches for the easiest ones to give.
They go out drinking that night, finding solace and simplicity in the buzz of people who are going through the terrifyingly wonderful, scary thing they are. Dan drinks too much, which isn't a lot by most people's standard, and Phil's supportive hand guides him back to his room.
He's sat on his bed, not really even trying to fall asleep, just contemplating the bizarreness of his reality.
“You're thinking really, really loudly,” Phil says, walking out of the bathroom, having just taken a shower.
Dan should probably do that at some point, too, but getting out of bed seems like an impossible concept to grasp.
A drop of water is traveling down Phil's neck, soaking the t-shirt substituting the Pjs he's forgotten to pack. Dan finds himself imagining tracing the line of it with his fingers.
“What am I thinking then?” he asks.
“You're thinking room service,” Phil says. “Probably burgers. And fries. Something to soak up the booze and help you sleep.”
Dan wasn't thinking that, but maybe he should have been.
“Should I make it two of each?” he asks, already reaching for the phone.
“And coke. We also need coke,” Phil nods.
They eat in soothing silence on Dan's bed, only occasionally commenting on the day they've had. Dan is playing with the last few of his fries, dipping them in ketchup and drawing nonsensical patterns onto the plate.
He looks up to show Phil one that kind of looks like a frog if you squint, only to realize that Phil's drifted off to sleep, clutching one of Dan's pillows in his arms, looking perfectly at peace.
Dan wants to, thinks he probably even should, but he doesn't have it in him to wake Phil up. Instead, he gets up to turn the lights off and put their plates away, carefully lying down on the other side of the bed.
He falls into a blissful coma within minutes, listening to Phil's even breath, not stirring awake even as Phil snorts himself awake, pulls the covers over them and goes back to sleep.
-
The door clicks open quietly. Dan knows it's Phil right away, but considers keeping his eyes shut so that he avoids confrontation.
“I know you're awake,” Phil chuckles. “What are you doing?”
“I was, I guess, drowning in the purposelessness of my existence, and like, generally, just thinking about who I am,” Dan says, dragging himself into a sitting position.
“You're Dan,” Phil suggests, and it feels like an improbable hug.
“Jeez, thanks, Phil,” Dan rolls his eyes, somewhere between fond and annoyed. “I didn't have a stroke, you know? Why did you come here, anyway?”
“Zoe said you weren't well,” Phil shrugged, as if it is that simple. And that makes Dan melt back into his pillows, any resistance softening away.
“I'm sorry. I just...”
“Don't feel well?” Phil smiles.
“I was fine when I came here, I just didn't feel like socializing. But then I...” Dan drifts off.
“It's okay, I get it,” Phil nods. “Do you want some Advil?”
Dan does. “But you shouldn't just get it, I don't get it,” he says instead.
Phil's answer is muffled as he's already getting Dan his painkillers and a glass of water.
“We could order food,” Phil says. “But tomorrow's going to be exhausting, you should probably just try falling asleep.”
“Easier said then done,” Dan retorts. Phil sighs, swinging on his heels.
“I could...” he starts and clears his throat, suddenly flustered. “I could stay here. Sleep, I mean. With you. If that would – I mean I'm not saying it would but if that'd help? I would. Love to… help.”
Dan wants to fight back, but the thought of blissful sleep, of not having to think anymore.
“Sure,” he nods. “If you want.”
Apparently, Phil wants.
-
They second the door closes after them, Dan starts to pace. His head is spinning.
He did it. He actually did it.
It was planned, of course. He knew PJ would ask them about Dan's celebrity crush on stage, and he told Phil that he would be putting down two.
One female. One decidedly not.
He's kind of drunk with it now, but keeps telling himself that everyone and their brother would just see it as a joke, as a thing that the YouTube straight guys do, but somewhere in Dan's chest, a warmth settles in. It doesn't matter how they interpret it, he said to a room full of people that one of his two celebrity crushes was a guy and he was… okay.
“I'm proud of you, you know,” Phil says. “Sometimes, I wonder if...”
“What?” Dan stops mid-step.
“Nothing,” Phil shakes his head. “This is about you. Do you want to get ready for the party?”
“Eventually,” yeah, Dan swallows all of the questions he doesn't know how to ask and yawns, suddenly exhausted. “But I think I need a nap first.”
“Okay,” Phil nods, digging through his bag to find his laptop.
“You can go without me, you know,” Dan says slowly, wanting Phil to do everything but that.
“Nah, I'm good. I think I might do some editing, actually,” Phil says, settling into the reclining chair in Dan's room with a pair of earphones, a laptop and a determined look on his face. “Unless you want some privacy,” he adds, as if an afterthough.
“No!” Dan rushes to say. “I mean… I'm good,” he adds more deliberately. “I'm really good.”
-
Dan wakes up before the alarm. It might be due to the fact that they went to sleep at an extraordinarily early hour for them, but nonetheless, it leaves him with nothing to do. Phil is snoring next to him, an arm outstretched as if he fell asleep seconds before reaching out to hold Dan's hand.
Dan finds himself wishing he'd have met him in the middle.
It's like a really dull, warm sort of ache spreading through his chest, expanding and shrinking him at the same time. He imagines what it'd be like, to know that Phil's going to be there every morning when he wakes up, that he's never going to have to worry about loneliness eating him whole ever again. Everything feels right, suddenly, like the last puzzle piece sliding into place.
He must drift off again.
There's a knock on the door, and Dan blinks rapidly.
Phil stirs, but doesn't wake up, and Dan begrudgingly drags himself out of the comfort of the warm blanket.
“Dan!” Louise moans as soon as he comes into view. “You were still asleep? The taxi's waiting, we're supposed to be leaving in 15 minutes!” she scolds him as the overbearing mother he loves her for being.
Oh, right. They didn't set an alarm.
“We must have forgotten to set an alarm,” he says, stupidly.
“We?” she squeaks, and pushes past him, confronted with an image of Phil still dozing of in Dan's bed, with the other side of the bed undeniably slept in as well.
“Dan...” Louise trails of, and suddenly, her voice is as if made of honey. Dan thinks her eyes are wet, too.
It makes the bubble of warmth that had created itself in his chest burst. Because it's not like that, it's not what she thinks, it's just them, Dan and Phil, friends and nothing but friends – the way it's always been.
“It's not like that!” he rushes to laugh, but it sounds fake even to his own ears. “Can we take this outside? I don't wanna…” he gestures to Phil, and mercifully, Louise follows.
“What is going on, Dan?” she demands as soon as the door clicks closed behind them.
“Nothing?” he tries, not hoping for much.
“Well that's interesting,” Louise says. “Because Zoe said last night, you looked like a kicked puppy before you left the party, she says you faked being sick, too, and then Phil went after you and neither of you came back and then I find you sleeping in the same bed and about to miss your plane so really, tell me how that's nothing,” she finishes.
“I love him,” Dan says, and then gasps at the same time Louise does. “I've… never actually even said that in my head before,” he adds, more to himself than anyone else.
Louise is definitely crying this time. He stares at his shoes.
“Then why do you look like someone died?” she's smiling through every syllable. “That's a good thing. Love is a good thing. Embrace it. Lord knows it's about time.”
“It's not that simple,” he shakes his head. “I can't risk our friendship like that.”
“Dan,” she takes his hands and forces him to look her in the eye. “Your friendship is strong enough to survive a nuclear bomb. And besides, let's just say that I really don't think you have anything to worry about, anyway,” she smiles at him supportively.
“Do you know something?” Dan can't help but ask.
“Let's just say I have eyes,” Louise shakes her head. “Now, we have about ten minutes before we need to leave. Are you packed?”
“Mostly,” Dan nods.
“Good. No time to sort this out now, so just wake Phil up, get yourselves outside as soon as you can, I'll wait for the car, and then when you get home – just trust yourself. Trust your gut. Okay?”
“Okay,” Dan nods, and laughs. “Wow, we really do know how to pick our moments, don't we?”
“You know it,” Louise pinches his cheek affectionately. “I'm proud of you, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Dan nods and goes to wake Phil up.
-
Money-hungry self-centered whores.
That's what they're calling them now.
They're saying they're either so in love with their stories that they feel like they're actually worth telling or, more often, that they stopped caring about the integrity of their work a long time ago and are just jumping on the bandwagon, ready to spread their legs for a chance to rope their fans out of a few bucks.
It's not everyone, of course. It's not even the majority. Most people are overjoyed, most people are screaming with joy and keys-mashing, but those aren't the voices that get trapped in the back of your head and refuse to get out.
It's 3 am on a Thursday of what's supposed to be the happiest week of their professional lives, and Dan is glaring at the ceiling in his room, feeling like he hasn't slept for days. Neither he nor Phil have acknowledged those people out loud yet, desperate to hold onto the feeling of pure euphoria they had when they were posting the trailer for their book. Saying it will make it more real, Dan's sure, now, he can still pretend that everyone gets that they just want to cement their legacy, make it feel real and tangible, and share it with the people who were on that journey with them.
Money's nice, sure. But they're not short of it, there's not a burning urgency to have more more more -
and even if there was, Dan thinks defiantly. Why would that be so bad? Why should they owe an explanation to a bunch of jealous, mean-spirited people who think before they type?
Phil's voice startles him. “You're awake, right?” Phil whispers into the darkness of Dan's room.
“Always,” Dan chuckles bitterly. “Why aren't you asleep though?”
“Couldn't,” Phil shrugs. “I thought maybe you'd wanna… talk, or something.”
“Sure,” Dan nods, sitting up. Phil takes sits down on the bed without a second thought, making himself comfortable.
“So I've been thinking,” Phil says.
“Yeah?” Dan nods.
“We've finished most of the writing, but there's still stuff to do, so I figure – we need a motivator,” Phil's saying, smiling brightly. “So I may or may not have put an order online for exactly 30 different kinds of popcorn. Personally, I'm really interested in the cherry one.”
Dan laughs.
And after that, everything is easier, assuring each other that they're doing this for the right reasons comes naturally, and neither can be manage to acknowledge that when they wake up tangled up together, more rested than they've felt in months.
-
As always, nothing goes quite as planned. Dan shakes Phil awake, and he's confused and stupidly adorable – and wow, hello thought, where did you come from – and disoriented, glasses crooked and trying to put his shoes on the wrong feet for several minutes before Dan corrects him.
They finally get all of their luggage ready, and Dan's just checking the drawers to see if they haven't left anything important behind, when Phil lets out a very pained noise.
“We don't have time to stop for coffee, do we?” Phil asks with such sadness to it that Dan sort of finds himself swooning. Apparently, finally admitting to yourself that you've been in love with your best friend for god knows how long can do wonders. “I hate plane coffee,” he complains. “It kind of tastes like what the left of your grandmother's sink after washing a really dirty load of dishes and they almost always bring it you all cold and -”
“I think I'm in love with you!” Dan blurts out, interrupting him, and could slap himself the next second. This isn't how it was supposed to go, there's a taxi waiting outside with a Louise and a plan and this is just not good.
Phil stops dead in his tracks, not looking up, just taking a slow, deep breath, clutching the handle of his suitcase. The minutes are ticking away, if they don't leave now, they're definitely missing their plane.
“You think or you know?” Phil finally asks.
“I know,” Dan says, his knees shaking, but his voice now firm.
“I...” Phil breathes out, and Dan thinks he can see the fear in his eyes. He's terrified he's fucked up, that there's no going back – but he manages to hold eye contact. And then, after a beat, Phil takes two long steps across the room and suddenly he's very, very close.
Dan can feel his breath on his face. He gulps.
“Why now?” Phil asks.
„I can't sleep without knowing you're close by,” Dan mumbles nonsensically.
Phil smiles. He's smiling. At Dan.
With his mouth. While looking at Dan's mouth. Dan thinks that maybe, he's ready for his stroke now.
“You should text Louise,” Phil says. “We're not going to catch that pl-”
And then Dan can't stand it anymore, and he's closing the distance between them, kissing Phil off-center and uncoordinated and uncaring because it's perfect, it's the silly kind of perfect out of a romance novel. Phil responds immediately, wrapping his hands around Dan's waist, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Dan moans into his mouth unashamedly.
He never thought about this part, about the attraction part, he was too preoccupied with sorting his heart out. But now, all he wants is to be closer to Phil, his skin vibrating with want. He didn't think it was possible to feel this much this quickly, it's like being woken up from a long slumber.
They break apart after a few minutes, laughing giddily as they do. Phil's eyes are sparkling in a way they never really have before, and Dan's drunk with it, pulling him back into another kiss.
“We should really -” Phils laughing as Dan smacks more kisses across his lips. “Let them know,” he continues as determinedly ignores him, sucking on Phil's bottom lip.
“Dan,” he laughs. “If you text her now, we'll have a whole day and a hotel room all to ourselves.”
“Fine,” Dan chuckles.
To Louise: not gonna make it on the plain. not sorry, explain later
To Dan: !!!!!!!
To Dan: I KNEW IT. TELL PHIL I KNEW IT
“Louise says to tell you she knew it,” Dan laughs.
“That makes one of us,” Phil smiles, and takes Dan's hand.
After that, talking seems rather unnecessary.