Work Text:
Phil pushes open the bedroom door, its faint creak swallowed by oppressive darkness thick as velvet. Inside, Dan lies coiled tight on their rumpled duvet, knees pulled to his chest, face buried in trembling hands. The faint glow from Phil’s phone screen catches the damp tracks on Dan’s cheeks. Phil pads silently across the carpet, sinking onto the mattress.
His whisper ghosts through the stillness, rough with conviction: "If you're diving into hell tonight? We're diving with you."
He reaches for the shelf – grabbing the worn, floppy-eared Pheel plushie and the lumpy, three-headed Cerberus prototype from their unlaunched 2020 merch line. Phil curls his body protectively around Dan’s tense form, pressing Pheel against Dan’s limp legs.
Dan’s fingers suddenly dart out, snatching Cerberus. He buries his face into its mismatched fur heads, then twists slightly to nuzzle his forehead against Phil’s collarbone, a silent, desperate anchor.