Work Text:
The airport is a blast of cold air on Phil's sweaty skin. He feels clammy with it, stomach rolling in a disgusting way as adrenaline still pumps through his veins.
Their luggage is sorted, checked in already. The weight of his backpack now tugs reassuringly on Phil's shoulders. Dan keeps giving him sidelong glances.
"What?" Phil asks. His voice still has a slight wheeze to it, his breath not entirely back to himself. His legs feel wobbly, too.
Dan just shakes his head. He's walking in a direction, walking toward security. "Just, calm down a little, okay?"
"I can't-" Phil snaps, and then stops, because snapping at Dan won't do any good. He's sure Dan's already annoyed with him anyway, if the set of his jaw while he'd been on the phone to Rosanna was any indication. A jolt of embarrassment stops his words completely.
Phil knows he's forgetful. He knows it like he knows he's clumsy and impatient and sometimes cross at Dan over things that aren't Dan's fault. He knows all his flaws and Dan isn't saying a word but Phil feels like they're being flung in his face regardless.
He bites his words back and follows Dan to security.
*
The lines are short and they paid for the privilege of not waiting too long. Twenty, thirty minutes and they're through to the other side.
It's enough time for the sweat to dry on Phil's skin, not enough time for him to feel like he's back to himself. The silence with Dan doesn't help. Silence with Dan never helps anything, but they're not beyond falling into their sulks still.
He doesn't voice a preference in where they go once they get past security, just keeps his step in line with Dan until he realizes Dan's led them to the toilets. "I don't have to-" Phil starts to say, but Dan gives him a tiny shove.
"Sort yourself," Dan says. His fingers linger on Phil's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "Take a minute."
"Dan." Phil's heart jumps into his throat, and he has no idea why. He's never very good at figuring out how own feelings. Sometimes it doesn't matter, sometimes Dan seems like he's figured them out instead and Phil doesn't even need to worry. He just has to breathe and trust. Right now he feels like going away from Dan is a bad idea but he trusts Dan.
"Splash some water on your face, fix your hair. I'll be back in ten minutes." Dan gives him a tight little smile.
"Okay," Phil says.
*
The toilets are almost empty. He goes into the stall at the very end of the line, the bigger handicapped one, and locks the door and then just - sits.
He sits and puts his face in his hands and breathes and breathes and breathes until his head is swimming bit less. Then he takes another big breath and he stands up, puts his backpack back on, and goes to the sink to wash his hands and splash his face and then stares at himself in the mirror until it doesn't even really seem like his face anymore. Is that him, really? With the lines around the temples and the bags under his eyes and the exhausted draw of his mouth?
He's so tired, suddenly. The adrenaline buoying him is gone and he's just tired through and through. He thinks of what it might have been like if he hadn't made it through and he'd have been stuck in America for days more and it makes him almost want to cry even now, even knowing it isn't a reality. He wonders if maybe Dan would have gone home without him and then he almost does cry, his eyes go red and burn slightly, but he blinks hard and pushes it back.
(Dan wouldn't have gone home alone, anyway. Phil doesn't really think so at all.
But he thinks about it and it hurts.)
*
Phil steps out of the toilets and back into the crush of a busy airport. Dan stands there, just as promised and smiling kindly like the ten minutes apart was enough for him to get a handle on himself, too.
Dan's holding a coffee in each hand. He holds one out to Phil. "Extra drizzle on top."
Phil looks at it. He feels that thick feeling in his throat again, but in a nicer way this time. His fingers brush over Dan's as he takes the cup. "Thank you."
For the coffee, he means.
For waiting. For letting Phil have his moments of temper. For loving him still, always, through every near-disaster and crisis, he also means.
*
They're near the front of the plane, tucked away in their own little world with a facade of privacy.
"You should try to sleep," Dan says. He looks tired and his voice is the tiniest bit scratchy.
Phil tips his head against the back of the seat. There's a headache drawing at his temples. "I'll try," he says.
He won't sleep. Dan might, though, if he thinks Phil will. If Phil says for sure he won't then Dan will say they can watch a movie together and still end up falling asleep, just in a worse position and halfway through a movie Phil will have to watch a second time just so Dan can see the end of.
Home will do them both some good. He can sleep at home. They both can, for a solid week, and do nothing more than that. Phil almost groans out loud at how blissful it sounds.
"It'll make a good story, at least," Dan says.
"What?" Phil asks. He catches onto what Dan's talking about before Dan can even respond. "Oh."
"Yeah, I mean." Dan settles his arm next to Phil's between them. "Make a good video, even. Bookend the trip with airport stories."
"Too similar," Phil says, already storyboarding and then dismissing the idea in his mind's eye.
"Something else, then." Dan bumps their arms together on the rest. "It'll be funny looking back in a few days, that's what I mean."
Phil doesn't say anything. Dan bumps his arm again. It earns him a tiny grudging smile. Dan's so annoying. Dan's so wonderful.
"I'll try to sleep," Phil says. He'll do a bad job of it, but maybe even a couple hours will help his head.
The plane takes off, leaving Los Angeles behind.