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If one looked close enough, there were signs that something was awry: Phil had been acting sketchy all morning, but he just assumed his partner was in some sort of mood again. Or maybe it was true that he was ‘feeling jet lagged’, or ‘just tired’, or even ‘needing space’ whatever that even meant when you’ve been tagging along with each other for most of your adult life. Truth was, after long months of touring Terrible Influence and pushing their bodies to the limit, Dan thought vacationing would be a time to relax and not be hyper aware of checking up on Phil. So he told himself it was all good and nothing would go wrong on their post-tour holiday. Surely, it would just be a relaxing time.
Oh, how wrong he was.
“Phil!” Dan’s yelling before he even manages to catch himself fully from the riot going on in his insides, “Phil! Get ou-t of the sea!” he chokes on some more stomach acid, holding his stomach and trying not to look at the mess he’s made all over the beautiful blue idyllic ocean near the Pontoon he was oh so excited to go to.
“What?” he hears Phil’s deep voice yell from somewhere that, thankfully, wasn’t in the direction he just emptied his insides into.
“Come here!” Dan feels his teeth chatter as he shivers, and there are tears in his eyes. He doesn’t think he ever went from slightly seasick to absolutely projectile vomiting faster in his entire life. To be honest, he was never one to get too sick on boats at all, so this was a new development. First time for everything, old man, he ponders, trying to calm down the contents of his stomach with some deep breaths.
He hears the water splash from the other side of the Pontoon as Phil swims closer, and then the noises of him heaving himself back up onto the platform. Dan doesn’t want to turn around or open his eyes or move in case that triggers another tidal wave to come out of him, holding it together by a thread. There's a strong pang all around his midsection, along with the muscle ache from the violent retching. After the panic that made him call out for Phil, he feels slightly ashamed as well.
“What happe-... Oh my God, why do you look like a ghost?” Phil finally looks over Dan’s shoulder, and sees the mess floating in the ocean, “Oh, shit!”
Dan finally risks opening his eyes and staring at Phil, feeling a little dizzy and a lot nauseous still. He knows there’s a veil of tears over his probably reddened eyes. He knows he probably looks a little pathetic in front of his own mess, still unsure if he should step back or just stay there.
“Still hurts,” he whines, trying to take deep breaths, “there might be more…”
He doesn’t even get to finish that sentence before he’s down on his knees over the side of the Pontoon, hugging himself and hurling more stomach contents into the water. Phil cringes in sympathy, and steps away, claiming he’ll get a towel to try to cover Dan up from the probably curious eyes of their couple-goals instagram neighbors. Later, when his head is clearer, Dan will see this for what it is: something to get him away from the gagging and the sickness to keep his own stomach settled. At the moment, he’s thankful others won’t see what’s happening to him, to the sea, or to the fishes, which are disturbingly gathering around his mess and having too great a time if you ask him.
Once vomiting turns into painful dry heaving, Dan crawls his way away from the ocean of crap he ejected out of his mouth, feeling even more nauseous seeing the fish go at it. His head is swimming, his insides are hurting still, and his stomach and throat burn horrendously. He finds his water bottle, washes out his mouth, gurgles, spits it into the tainted sea. Sniffling, he decides to lie back down and stay, trying to breathe through it and see if his stomach will finally settle.
“You okay?” To his credit, Phil does sound concerned, but not as much as he thought he would from the literal explosion of vomit that has taken place. He’s standing over him like some concerned bystander over a victim of a car crash, trying to hand him a bottle “do you want to sip some water?”
“No,” he whines back, “ ‘t will all come back up over your face.”
“Too soon,” he agrees, sinking to his knees near Dan’s head and petting his hair, “what do you need?”
“Tired,” he says, looking up at his boyfriend with a pleading gaze.
“You can’t sleep right now, Dan,” he says, worriedly, “are you with me? Are you going to pass out”
“Uhum, ‘m with you” he says, dazedly, feeling himself shiver. He swears the temperature was great before all this happened, but now he feels like he’s about to freeze.
“Here,” Phil hands him the blanket he was using to hide Dan’s unfortunate situation and helps settle it over his shoulders, manhandling him back into a sitting position, “how’s the stomach feeling?”
“It really hurts,” he complains, still accepting the water bottle Phil extends his way and holding on to it for later, “I’ve never been this seasick before.”
“Oh, you’re not seasick,” Phil remarks, easily, and Dan quirks up an eyebrow.
“How on Earth would you know that?” he’s suddenly feeling more awake, suspicion of Phil’s underreaction rising. Something continues to be not quite right about this picture, he thinks.
“Well,” Phil hesitates, “I… umm… I think we may have food poisoning, actually,” he tries to sound casual, but it only makes it even more suspicious.
“Again,” Dan crosses his arms and stares him down, “what do you mean we ?”
“I may have thrown up a lot during the night,” he admits, “and also um… had a lot of diarrhea… Like a lot ”
“Phil! Without telling me?” His annoyance brought him back to life for now, but a really loud noise from his stomach makes him wince and try to calm down.
“It was late and you were sleeping. Look, now I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you’d be fine!” he tries to placate Dan, but he can probably tell his boyfriend is already annoyed.
“How could I ever be fine if we ate the same fucking food? For fuck’s sake, Phil! You let me go out to sea with food poisoning ? Without warning me?!” He knows he’s screaming now, and his throat still hurts from all the strain of throwing up. The blanket is now getting hot and uncomfortable, so he shrugs it off his shoulders, fuming.
“You were fine this morning!” his stubborn boyfriend replies, and he can tell this might lead to some big argument if he doesn’t calm down.
“But you weren’t , Phil! I even asked you if you were okay, cause you were being weird. And you were like: oh I’m tired…. What the fuck?”
“Well, I AM tired, ‘cause I was up most of the night feeling sick, is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Yes, it is!” Dan’s stomach makes a loud noise and he groans, “fuck, not now please,” before he can get himself under control, he’s on his knees dry heaving away from Phil, choking on a big hiccup, on all-fours, humiliated. Everything hurts at this point, and he knows his liar-of-a-boyfriend is also probably feeling ill, and has just been hiding it all day. He also knows, deep in his heart, that his intentions from keeping that stuff from Dan are pure. He knows that Dan stresses easily, especially on the subject of Phil’s health. Yet, this whole situation is kind of his fault for not being honest.
“You’re okay,” Phil says, argument forgotten, rubbing his back, “breathe, Dan, you’re okay, there’s nothing else to bring up.”
“Fuck, it hurts,” he moans, and Phil carefully shuffles them back away from the edge, holding Dan cradled against his chest.
“I know. We need to get you back to the room where there’s a bed and a toilet… I’m really sorry, Dan, I didn’t think this was gonna happen.”
“I know,” he sighs, scoots away a little with a big sigh, and motions to Phil, “gimme the phone, I’ll try to get us out of here.”
Calling reception isn’t as difficult as he thought it would be. His genuine panic really comes through, and suddenly he distantly hears himself saying they “need to get off the sea right now”. It did sound a little crazy, maybe, especially since they hadn’t done most of the experience yet. It was probably a very concerning call, if he tried to see it from the receptionist’s perspective. At the time, though, it just felt like begging for help to come faster. He knew his body well enough to know he did not have two hours of calm in his bowels to follow. In fact, it already hurt a lot, so he didn’t even know how long he had until something very very nasty happened in this pontoon, right in front of the other tourists, and Phil’s poor eyes.
Speaking of which, Phil was hovering next to him, anxiously listening in on his phone call with a lot of nervous energy. Once the woman finally hang up with the promise that the boat would be there as soon as possible to bring them back, Dan let out a huge sigh and pressed his fists against his eyes, feeling sweat pool in places it definitely shouldn’t, and his stomach roll like it was trying to run laps on his insides.
“Stop…” Dan snaps, annoyed at the big blue eyes piercing into his skull.
“I’m not doing anything,” Phil sounded as nervous as he probably looked, if only Dan had the energy to move his head and check, “are you going to sick everywhere again? or like… worse?”
“Go ‘way,” he moaned, “you’re not helping me by bringing it up!”
“At least I’m not the one bringing everything else up right now!” Phil’s cranky, and Dan can acknowledge that his boyfriend would definitely be more supportive under different circumstances, maybe with a full night’s sleep and not feeling sympathy stomach pangs from his late-night trauma. Right now, he realizes, they’re just being mad at each other, and that’s not gonna get them out of this god forsaken pontoon any sooner.
Deflating like a very tall balloon, Dan pitifully curls up on the floor, holding his stomach the same way he’s trying to hold himself together. He knows he probably looks very weird, all gangly limbs, lying down on the pontoon like some sort of crime scene outline, but frankly he’s so done with the day and everything else going on, Dan gives up on pretending to be normal. It is overrated anyway, he thinks. He could feel Phil’s concerned gaze on him, but he blessedly stays silent for once in his life.
Or so he thought. Until he started speaking again: “if you need to go really badly, you can swim out into the sea, and I promise I won’t look at it.”
“Kill me” is all Dan moaned back, “mercy kill, right now.”
“No one is dying in this pontoon,” Phil replied, matter-of-factly, and Dan felt fingers combing through his sweaty curls. It felt heavenly to get some kind of affection, and if he wasn’t busy dying, he’d probably drag himself to Phil’s lap and be pampered a little, maybe.
“Well, I’m not shitting myself in the ocean either, then, thank you very much!”
“Fine, okay,” he can hear the amusement in Phil’s voice, “we can negotiate that kink some other time,” Dan knows that he’s just cracking jokes to make him feel better, but lord know he wants to throttle him for them, but also kiss him so he shuts the fuck up. If only his insides weren’t imploding, he thinks, regretting every choice that brought them to this moment in time.
When the boat finally arrives, Dan knows the worst has not yet passed. In fact, he doesn’t even know how to uncurl himself from the floor and hold all the contents of his digestive system somehow still inside. He feels the gas build up, but he knows letting any of it out would be the biggest mistake of his life, so he just grits his teeth and bears the pain. Phil, for his part, is being his usual self around strangers: overly polite and helpful, trying his hardest not to be any more of a bother to the people who came to rescue them. So he helps Dan up, and somehow between both of them he’s managed to climb into and sit in the boat, completely clenched, barely daring to breathe, sweat beading on his forehead.
The trip back is horrible. Phil is eyeing him in genuine concern as he tries to hold himself together, sometimes having to gag over the side. He’s trying not to hover, Dan can tell, but he can feel Phil’s eyes burning into the back of his head, as he moans and feels his stomach give another awful loud noise. Dan says a silent prayer that he doesn’t end up shitting himself in this boat, that would be so awful for everyone involved… He can’t imagine he’d ever be able to live that one down, so he’s just willing himself to hold it in.
Phil pokes him and hands him his phone, open on the notes app. Dan can’t believe this man wants to have a silent conversation right now, when he’s so busy trying to survive un-shittedly on his way back to dry land.
are you gonna explode out of either end? you look very green.
leave me alone.
dan. 1 to 10?
1 to 10 what?
making this trip back with clean underwear vs severe poop explosions?
philip
All that he got from handing the phone back with just his name was a frown and another insistent poke from Phil, who pushed the phone back into his hands, awaiting a real response. He sighed and typed
like a 7 shit ratio whatever that means
oh no that’s bad
He huffed and actually mouthed ‘ yeah, no shit’ to Phil, who giggled, typed something, and handed the phone back, and it read:
HOPEFULLY no shit
Dan just stared at him, trying to look like his usual annoyed at Phil self,, but something in his eyes might have betrayed his genuine horror, as his partner typed something else and showed it to him
almost there Dan
When Dan was brave enough to look up, he saw the most beautiful sight: land, so close to where he could finally touch it. With a huge sigh of relief, Dan briefly realized he’s never wanted to kiss the ground so badly. He’s so thankful for every human invention that led humanity on the way to having plumbing, and toilets, and rooms with doors he can close, so he can be miserable away from the rest of society.
Privacy never tasted so sweet before, Dan thinks finally being able to smile knowing the drama is almost over.
It’s been about an hour since their return to the resort, and it’s been an insanely mortifying experience. Dan had to make a few trips to the bathroom, while Phil talked to the hotel people and explained what happened, trying to be as delicate as he could about their situation. All Dan wanted was to have a shower right away, as his entire body felt warm and clammy and gross, to fully debrief from their failed Pontoon Experience in peace. Reality, though, was much more cruel.
Instead, Dan stands, several minutes later, closing the door softly behind all the hotel workers that ended up in their room, casually discussing his bowel movements like it’s the morning paper, and offering them free stuff to help with what they called this whole event: an “inconvenience”. Apparently, his demands to be brought back to land freaked them out badly enough to be summoned into their room, the one he dreamed of so much on the way back. Their empty platitudes made him want to start yelling, but he knew that would upset Phil greatly, so he held back.
Speaking of which, his boyfriend has so much explaining to do. Later, that is. When Dan has his energy back to scream at him for his extremely questionable choices today.
He holds on to the door and sighs, a deep exhaustion weighing his body down. If he just melts down to the floor and lies there against the door, maybe Dan will feel a little better. He feels his legs waver, protesting against holding up his weight any longer, and being horizontal sounds like a dream.
“Dan?” he hears Phil approach slowly from somewhere behind him, “are you okay?”
“Am I-....” his indignant voice goes up in pitch, but Dan cuts himself off, all the battle draining out of his body with the exhaustion, “for fuck’s sake, Phil!”
“Okay, yeah, stupid question,” he hears, but still refuses to turn around or move at all. Most of his weight is leaning against the door still, and he has no energy to move again, “do you… like… need a hand?”
“Leave me here to die, please,” he feels himself start melting down to the floor, weight leaning against the door, trying to just slide down and have a little rest.
“Daniel! Not the gross hotel carpet!” At the reminder of other people’s disturbing habits and the lack of proper cleaning, he forces himself to keep standing, barely “Do you want the bed or the toilet again?”
“Bed please,” he groans, feeling how unsteady his stomach still feels. Food poisoning is awful, and he’s filled with so many regrets.
“Come on, then,” his voice is all soft, like he is coaxing a very small helpless animal, “I’ll get some pajamas for you to change into.”
“Ugh…” when he feels Phil’s presence close enough, he leans back, putting some of his weight now on him instead, “don’t wanna move ever again.”
“Danny,” Phil frowns, hugging him carefully so as not to squeeze his sensitive stomach, “you need to! I’m not letting you in our bed like this, you’re all gross!”
“And whose fault is that?” Dan turns around and stares at his idiot boyfriend, still accepting the embrace.
“Not mine! I didn’t choose the cursed sandwich, that was you! ”
“I’m dying and you don’t even fucking care,” he grumbles, pushing himself away and walking slowly to the bathroom.
He hears Phil’s laugh behind him and bites down on the urge to actually say something in retort and start an argument he has zero energy for right now. He pauses, an awful feeling overcoming him as a chill goes all the way down his spine. Frozen in place, Dan tries to clamp down on the panic that is rising, the response your body gives you when you’re about to do something truly horrendous to this very hotel carpet in a few seconds. His stomach lurches again, and Dan has a burst of energy that helps him rush into the toilet.
His knees hit the floor so fast it hurt, and he is immediately hurling uncontrollably into the porcelain bowl, unsure how there could be more to even bring up after that awful, no good, absolutely miserable pontoon experience. His stomach is gurgling so loudly and everything is aching and warm and horrible… he finds himself silently praying that he wouldn’t also shit himself with the violence of his awful retching, unfortunately it’s a real concern right now.
Once he feels like he’s done, Dan lays his head on his arms over the toilet seat and hears himself let out a genuine sob, only now realizing he’s actually crying. Just awful! All he wanted was a cute date, a different experience for them to relax and enjoy, it was never supposed to be this humiliating disgusting flop of a day. His head is spinning and he feels a little too warm, and the smell is making him want to gag more, but he doesn’t even have the energy to flush the mess away.
“You done?” Phil’s head peaks in, and Dan musters the energy to hold up his middle finger in silent protest. He hears a laugh in return and Phil’s elephant footsteps as he walks in and starts pulling him away from his new best friend: hotel toilet, “I got you, lean back against the wall so I can flush. It smells rancid in here.”
“Thanks,” he says, slightly sarcastically as Phil helps pull him away from the toilet, and makes a face, flushing it as quick as he can, “I feel like shit.”
“Looks like it too!” he jokes and Dan just glares, “and it’s about to get so much worse, like… if you have it as bad as I did during the night you don’t even know …”
“No! Don’t tell me anything !” he covers his face, wiping away the sweat and grossness, “I can’t even think about this now without throwing up all over you.”
“Whoops, sorry,” to his credit, he does look apologetic as he reaches over and pats Dan’s shoulder, “if you’re good and don’t vomit all over me, I can run you a nice bath.”
Phil doesn’t wait for a reply, not that Dan is planning on giving one. He’s feeling a little sleepy, since the nausea subsided a little after all that mess, so he’s just resting his eyes as he leans back against the cool tile wall, which feels really good on his warm skin. He feels himself drift off, but doesn’t really care. He hears Phil’s offkey humming and all the pottering noises in the background and it pulls him under, the feeling of finally being safe overtaking everything.
He drifts back in with Phil’s hand on his forehead, probably checking his temperature. As soon as he cracks his eyes open a little, Phil has a glass to his mouth. He’s incredibly clumsy and not at all gentle, but between the two of them they get some liquid into him, his clothes off and a comforting bath setup for Dan to relax a little. As he’s supported by Phil to get into the bathtub and finally get horizontal, Dan lets out a deep sigh.
“I think I love you,” he’s embarrassed to hear how teary he is and how much it shows in his voice. But Phil just coos and pats his head like he’s the cutest animal he’s ever seen before sitting down on top of the toilet seat next to him, and just watching over him as he mostly melts into the bathtub.
“Wash yourself, stinky boy,” Phil says, throwing a washcloth at him, “we need to go to bed and pretend today never happened.”
“Fuck you,” he bites back with zero energy and starts actually cleaning himself, “perv won’t even let me bathe on my own, just wants to take me to bed.”
“You wish!” Phil jokes back easily and starts undressing, deciding Dan is doing a good enough job bathing himself, “I’m gonna have a quick shower, then.”
“Oh, now he’s getting naked too ,” Dan stares at Phil’s ass unapologetically and smiles, “nice!”
“Shut up! Who’s the perv now?” he hops into the shower and quickly closes it, moaning at the water, “ohh the water pressure is so good!”
“Perv’s still you!” he yells back, and not even the pleasant tingle of hearing Phil moaning at the quality of his shower is enough to fully interest him. Fuck food poisoning, he knows he’d be jumping in there with him otherwise after a successful date at the pontoon. Instead, he’s washing away clammy sweat, and hoping this will make him feel less horrible until the next round of sickness.
Once he deems himself clean enough, he climbs out of the bath, dries himself halfheartedly, and brushes his teeth, ignoring Phil’s annoying whistling in the shower of whatever tik tok song he’s got stuck in his brain. He grabs the first pair of pajamas he sees, knowing full well it’s most likely Phil’s, but feeling a little vengeful for the events of the day. So what if he makes the pajamas disgusting with clammy sweat in a few hours? Phil kinda deserves that one.
Once he’s finally dressed, Dan feels bone-tired, and he catches himself on the edge of the sink and tries to breathe through another wave of dizziness. He ends up sitting down on top of the toilet lid and puts his head on his hands. What a fucking awful day it’s been! He hears the water turn off, and soon Phil steps out of the shower, definitely using way too many towels, and trudges his way back up to him, footsteps stopping when he sees how he’s sitting, defeated.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Phil says, gently, no mocking tone this time, which somewhere deep down Dan appreciates. When he doesn’t get up, Phil pokes his arm, “hello? bedtime?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dan says with zero enthusiasm, “help?”
Phil rolls his eyes jokingly, but helps pull Dan up and holds him until he’s steady on his feet. They shuffle their way back to the room and both drop on top of their bed, exhausted, letting out big sighs of relief. They look at each other and share a little giggle at how synchronized that was.
“Better?” Phil asks, turning over to his side and staring into Dan’s eyes, carefully moving his slightly moist curls out of his face.
“A bit,” he moans at a loud gurgle his stomach gives, “still shit, though,”
“Oh, don’t I know it! 3 a.m. time was miserable for me too, you know.” His eyes are so blue and so intent on his face, Dan doesn’t know if he’s dizzy because he’s ill, or that’s just the effect of having all that attention all of a sudden, “you seem a little more alive after your bath, though. Do you want a free hotel banana? It’s supposed to be good for you.”
“Disgusting,” Dan grabs onto Phil’s hand that is still fiddling with his curls and holds it still, “don’t you dare say that to me ever again.”
“Why? You’d prefer it if I fed my banana to you?” Phil teases, letting Dan hold his hand.
“I’ll bite your banana right off, mister,” he mumbles, bringing Phil’s hand to rest next to his cheek and nuzzling it as he yawns, “just you wait until I’m better.”
“You like my banana too much,” he jokes back, using his free arm to pull Dan closer, “you’re too far, com’ere.”
“Ugh, but I’ll get all sweaty in a bit and my stomach is making awful noises,” he complains, but his body is already complying to Phil’s pull and letting himself be hugged to Phil’s chest.
“Shhh, shut up. Sleep now, I barely slept all night” he gives a huge yawn and Dan has half a mind to remind him he lied about that too earlier, and how dare he put them in that situation.
In reality, his thoughts are turning to syrup and melting away, as Phil’s warmth takes his consciousness away. Sleeping does sound incredible right now.
Waking up a few hours later, though, wasn’t fun at all.
Here he was, covered in so much sweat again. Phil had rolled over in his sleep and let go of him – thank god, or it would be even warmer. It doesn’t take him more than a few seconds to realize what woke him up, as a sharp pain in his lower abdomen and an ominous grumble have him running for the bathroom, for a slightly different reason this time. He barely makes it into the toilet before he’s doubling over in agony and his body is yet again ridding itself of whatever is in it.
Needless to say, it’s a long afternoon, but somehow Phil sleeps through it, fitfully snoring on their comfortable bed. He reckons his boyfriend is recovering from all the sleep he’s missed out on during the night, even though he never told Dan that until it was too late. Stewing on his own discomfort, Dan lies back in bed. He felt petty and annoyed at the notion that Phil hiding this from him was truly the whole reason they actually went out at all. He figures if he can’t sleep, he might as well bring Phil down with him. He slept enough.
“Hey, you! Wake up,” he watches Phil slowly rouse from what looked like a very refreshing nap. He looks over at Dan and makes a kissy face, and when he doesn’t immediately acquiesce he pouts and shuffles super close to Dan, likely to use all the power of his big blue eyes, before Dan interrupts “No! I just shit out my whole body weight in there, I’m not being nice to you right now.”
“Wha’d I do?” he mumbles, and he seems so genuine, and his eyes are so blue and big , but Dan knows his games way too well.
“I don’t know, Philip, maybe you should have warned me BEFORE I ruined the entire sea, so I could at least be prepared for all this!”
“Danny,” he pouts, and he looks so angelic and sweet, Dan’s gonna kill him, “the sea will be fine,” he’s sounding a little more awake and coherent now. He’s also starting to look mighty annoyed to be awake back in this argument, “so you woke me up just to shout at me?”
“No! I’m just saying: if I have to suffer, so do you. In sickness and in health, bitch.”
“Not fair!” Phil whines, hiding his face on the pillow, “I didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night to watch me be sick!”
“And look where it’s gotten us, Phil! Stranded at sea in a fucking pontoon while about to shit my pants!”
“Stop talking to me like that!” Phil whines, rolling over on the bed with a huff, turning his back on Dan like a particularly stinky baby.
Realizing how silly this was after Phil just rolled away to shut him out, Dan finds himself starting to giggle involuntarily. Soon, hysteria takes over and it becomes a full belly laugh and it hurts a lot, but he still finds that he can’t really stop. When he manages to look his way, Phil is side-eyeing him, but he can see the curiosity behind those eyes on what’s so funny.
“Ow, that fucking hurts,” Dan cries as he laughs and holds his sensitive stomach, groaning, “come back here, idiot!” he says to Phil, who immediately rolls back over at that and looks at him questioningly, still seeming lost about how things changed so quickly. Dan just reaches over and pulls him in, holding him against his chest. As the giggles finally vanish he feels Phil get comfortable in his embrace, and knows his outburst is forgiven.
“I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” although he sounds sleepy still, Phil seems to be finally taking this seriously as he looks up into Dan’s eyes apologetically, “just didn’t want to ruin the vacation, you know? You needed it.”
“We needed it,” Dan corrected, “and I don’t want to be relaxed if you’re up all night feeling awful. We’ve talked about this before.” he makes sure to communicate this fully. Truthfully, he wishes Phil warned him of the possibility of food poisoning for his own sake, but what hurts worse was knowing he hid his own health issues from Dan. Again .
“I know, I’m sorry,” he whines, sighs, fixes Dan with that dangerous stare of his, “I didn’t mean to ruin the Pontoon experience. I should have known you’d get sick too if I did. I just wasn’t sure, you know? There was a chance you’d be fine.”
“That’s just wishful thinking, bro. Come on! You thought I’d miraculously not get poisoned by the sandwich we shared?”
“Oh, I wasn’t really sure it was food poisoning, really” he replies, and he sounds very sincere “I was like: maybe I had dairy somehow? or like maybe I just wasn’t doing well from whatever else,” Dan winces. Phil’s health issues have become a real sore topic, he doesn’t like talking about it too much.
Oh. Oh. Dan thinks, finally understanding. It doesn’t really fix the issue, of course, of Phil hiding things to make him feel better, but still . He thought he was hiding something that wasn’t actual food poisoning ! That made much more sense, he realized. Phil shrugged at him, probably seeing that maybe he now sees his side.
“Phil,” Dan holds his boyfriend’s chin, tilting his head back enough that he can stare between his eyes and his lips. Phil’s breath catches a little, so he probably wasn’t expecting things to turn out quite this well for him right off the bat, but he isn’t complaining, “you need to stop keeping secrets to protect me. We’ve talked about this,” Phil just nods, and Dan wonders if he’s even listening, “I need to know when you’re sick so I can take care of you, you rat.”
“It wasn’t that bad-”
“That’s how you end up bleeding out of your ass in A&E looking like a bloody corpse. You need to behave” Dan almost whispers it, very close to Phil’s lips, and now he knows that man is not listening anymore, as his breath hitches.
It’s all confirmed as Phil crashes their lips together, heatedly. Dan starts to get carried away with it, deepening the kiss. Maybe he could still save this cursed day, if they spend the rest of it in bed, he thinks. Phil’s hands are working at his pajama pants, already going in for what he actually wanted. Drama fully forgotten, he feels Phil press himself on top of him as they get started, and Dan ends up whining in pain and pushing him off.
“Oh shit, sorry!” Phil exclaims, raising his hands and pulling away, “you’re in pain, sorry, we probably shouldn’t.”
“No, no, no, no, NO, fuck!” Dan exclaims, mad at the world for taking away the one good thing, feeling his eyes water, “this whole trip has been so upsetting, I’m losing it, I need something, Phil, please,” he’s not above begging, and he knows his eyes are filled with tears of both anger and discomfort.
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Phil replied, caressing his face, “plus, both our asses are off limits right now, I’d say,” he tries to lighten the mood, kissing Dan softly, “you need to rest.”
“How will I rest if I need to empty myself every few minutes or else I explode?” he knows he’s literally whining and he’s on the verge of actually crying. Phil looks at him with such pity, carefully adjusting them so they’re both laying on their sides and Dan can be his little spoon.
“Until you do have to get up again, I’m right here. It’s okay,” he shushes, putting his chin over Dan’s shoulder and holding him close, still careful of his sensitive middle. Dan sighs in defeat and lets himself fully relax in his favorite place, no matter where they go: Phil’s arms.
Falling asleep together, no matter how shitty of a day it’s been, can fix anything.