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The first offense almost flew under Dan’s radar.
It was a Wednesday night, and the two of them had somehow been roped into dinner plans, despite their usual repulsion for leaving the house on a weekday. But it was their friends’ anniversary, and they liked all the people invited, and as he sat next to Phil sipping on some red wine, Dan found he was glad they’d said yes. His ideal night still consisted in sitting on the couch with Phil, a box of cereal wedged between them and a reality show playing on the TV; but this was nice, too, he thought as he squeezed his boyfriend’s thigh under the table. Phil turned his attention away from their friends to smile at him, almost shy, and Dan couldn’t believe it wasn’t enough to blind the whole table.
He wasn’t the only one to think so, either.
“You know, Phil,” one of their friends, Marcus, said, “the blonde was the best decision you’ve ever made”
“Aesthetically, maybe,” Phil chuckled. “But the upkeep is hell. Having the hairdresser over every two weeks makes me feel like an old, posh lady”
“Can’t you do it on your own?”
“I want to, but Dan here thinks I’d get bleach in my eyes and go blind”
The whole table turned to look at the brunette, but he simply shrugged. “Am I wrong?”
Phil looked expectantly at their friends, but nobody came to the rescue. He gasped, affronted. “Excuse me? I dyed my own hair for years!”
“Dye is different from bleach,” Dan observed. At his partner’s glare he simply smiled, because he knew it would get him out of anything, and because he liked the way it made Phil’s eyes go a bit soft.
“Well, bleach or not, I think it looks great. Especially with this sweater,” Marcus said. “It makes your eyes pop”
That was the end of the conversation. Dan didn’t think much of it, considering Marcus was sitting next to his own husband and was complimenting Phil in a totally platonic, friendly way. He barely acknowledged the striped, black sweater, mostly because he attributed Phil looking hot to the fact that he was Phil, and not to the outfit he was wearing. He could recognise it fit well, and it did make his blue eyes pop; but he had no reserve about taking it off of him that night, back in the comfort of their home.
He thought that’d be it. But it had only just started.
The second time it happened, they were in their room at the Four Seasons. Even if it was just for a video, Dan still struggled to believe that was his life as he lounged on the couch, slowly sinking in the cushions, camera momentarily forgotten. He’d worried about the nature of the video for about two seconds before sprinting there, and as he felt his whole body relax he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore; he’d rely on their fans’ forgiveness.
On the other side of the couch, which felt miles away, Phil was calling room service. Dan registered some of the conversation, mostly composed of mispronounced French dishes, but only came back to Earth once his boyfriend hung up and crawled forward, squeezing his body between Dan’s and the back of the couch.
“They said they’ll be here in ten minutes”
“This couch has the same surface as the moon and you’re still crowding me,” Dan mumbled in response, pretending to be annoyed, but still refused to scoot to the side to make more space. Phil was thus forced to sneak a leg over his, bracketing his torso with an arm. From his vantage point he stared down at him, fringe partially shading his eyes, looking fond as ever and like he knew exactly what Dan was doing.
“And you hate that, don’t you?”
Dan closed his eyes again, raising an arm to hook it around Phil’s back. “Mh, I do”
He couldn’t see, but he just knew Phil was rolling his eyes. When the blond tried moving away, he tightened his hold.
“Let me go, I wouldn’t want to torture you”
“I can take it,” was all he said before tugging Phil down; the latter swiftly accepted his fate, laying his head on Dan’s chest, and they managed not to move a single muscle for the following ten minutes.
When they heard a knock at the door, Dan groaned out loud. Phil snorted and managed to get up, long limbs a little uncoordinated.
“I’ll get it. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Not really”
“Liar, I could hear your stomach grumble”
Dan glared at him, but the man was already trotting out of the room and into the hallway (what kind of hotel room had a hallway?).
He heard him exchange some words with the guy at the door, then some laughter. He raised his eyebrows, wondering what could possibly be funny about room service, but was interrupted by the two men walking back into the room. The hotel clerk was pushing a small cart, his back to Dan so that he didn’t see him at first. He started moving the dishes to the table, Phil hovering over his shoulder.
“Everything looks great!”
“Thank you, sir,” the guy answered, looking up at Phil; and Dan knew he was probably reading into it too much, but he could’ve sworn the tone was a bit flirty. He watched, still on the couch, as Phil scratched his head, probably taken aback from the formality.
“I’m guessing a lot of people order room service?” he asked to fill the silence. The guy nodded.
“Yes, but the dining hall is very popular, too”
“Oh, well, maybe next time,” Phil chuckled, knowing full well there wasn’t going to be a next time. He and Dan weren’t exactly Four Seasons habituels.
“You could come down later for dessert,” the guy proposed, looking at Phil from under his lashes, dragging the words a little. Dan decided it was time to get up.
“I don’t think I’m dressed for that,” Phil answered, gesturing at his simple sweater.
The guy dragged his eyes up and down his body and smiled. “I think the sweater looks good”
“Alright, is everything ready?” Dan asked, finally walking up to the table. The guy visibly flinched in surprise, and looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost. Dan, towering several inches over him, gave him a tight smile.
“Oh, uh, yes…” the clerk said, suddenly not too eager to bat his eyelashes. “Please let us know if you’d like anything else”
He pushed the cart out of the room under Dan’s watchful gaze. He stared at the closed door for a couple of seconds before turning to Phil, who was busy uncovering all the dishes.
“I can’t believe this”
“I know, look at this steak! It could feed a whole family!”
“Not the steak. The guy”
Phil looked at him, frowning. “What guy?”
“The one who just left? Who was clearly hitting on you?”
Phil laughed, walking up to him. “He wasn’t hitting on me!”
“Was too,” Dan said. Then, in a high pitch that definitely didn’t match the guy’s, “I think the sweater looks good. You know, I would expect a bit more professionalism from the Four Seasons”
“He only said that to get a good tip!”
“Oh, he was hoping for a tip alright”
Phil laughed again, grabbing his arm and dragging him to one of the chairs.
“You just have tunnel vision for people flirting with me”
“If you stopped getting flirted with-”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be more careful next time,” Phil mused, brushing a hand through his boyfriend’s curls. “I’ll get into something more comfy, and then we can eat”
He walked towards the room where they’d left their bags, starting to take his sweater off, and Dan realised with a jolt it was the black one with the white stripes. His mind went back to the dinner with their friends, and he almost said something to Phil; but, realising he’d sound insane, he focused on filling their wine glasses.
A couple of days after they uploaded the video, Dan opened Twitter. He usually only did it to answer comments when a new video dropped, alternating the task with Phil; other than that he didn’t use it much, feeling there was a tacit understanding between him and the viewers that he’d stay out of their walls. But he was bored, and Phil was out, so he opened the app.
He scrolled through the usual posts, mostly clips from the hotel video, everyone supporting the last-minute change of plans as he’d expected; but he quickly realised a certain picture was coming up more than others: a frame of Phil in his sweater, leaning over the table, looking at the camera. He noticed it once, twice, ten times before stopping to look at it properly. Phil looked good, of course he did, and of course their fans had picked up on it. They were all being very vocal about it, too, which made Dan feel both proud and wary at the same time; and they were all talking about the fucking sweater.
In the picture, it hung loosely from Phil’s shoulders, leaving a bit of collarbone exposed. Once again, Dan struggled to understand what was so special about it, what could possibly result in that kind of reaction. It only looked good because it was on Phil, which maybe was the issue; except he couldn’t exactly lock his boyfriend away, no matter how many times he’d entertained the idea, meaning he’d have to keep putting up with him being perceived by others.
Still, as he looked at the picture, he could feel himself starting to develop genuine feelings of hostility towards the piece of fabric; he was only distracted from the thought by the sound of Phil unlocking the front door.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It happened again as they were having dinner with Phil’s parents. The four of them had squeezed around a pub’s table, and Phil had immediately gotten up to get some drinks. He was gone for five minutes, and Dan had only looked away once to watch the video Kath was showing him; next time he glanced at Phil, a man was talking to him.
There was no mistaking his intentions as he leaned against the counter, eyes hooded and not hiding the way they checked him out. Dan actually felt his eye twitch, watching his boyfriend chuckle and say something before grabbing the glasses and taking them back to the table. The man didn’t seem to hold a grudge, judging from the way he stared at his ass as he left.
Dan made a point of slinging an arm around Phil’s chair once he sat back down, which his boyfriend didn’t even acknowledge, handing everyone their drink.
He wasn’t going to say anything with Phil’s parents there, so he simply simmered in silence for a couple of minutes before rationality properly kicked in and he calmed down enough to realise Phil was wearing the sweater again. What had been a coincidence so far quickly took the form of a full-on curse in Dan’s mind, and he tugged at the sleeve, frowning.
“What?” Phil murmured to him, his parents busy looking for something else on the phone. Dan considered mentioning what had happened, or making a comment about the sweater; but Phil was smiling at him, and the night had too familiar a taste for him to spoil it, so he just smiled back.
“Nothing. I love you”
Phil’s eyes lit up, and he quickly pressed a peck on his lips; it still felt weird, so soon after coming out to the world, but the oddness was easily canceled out by much more pleasant, giddy feelings.
He once again let it go, thinking surely it would be the last time. But then it wasn’t.
They were sitting in a crowded restaurant, only the two of them. They didn’t have a habit of having romantic dinners, but their friends had gifted them theater tickets and after the show they’d both agreed they weren’t ready for the night to end, using Phil’s birthday month as an excuse. So they were sitting across from each other, still discussing the play and checking the menu, when the waiter first approached the table to ask about drinks.
He only looked at Phil during the exchange, which wouldn’t have been alarming on its own, considering a lot of people found him to be the less intimidating one in the couple. But he did the same thing when they ordered food, only glancing at Dan for a second when he spoke; and then again to ask them if everything was in order. Dan felt that nothing was in order, and was about to tell Phil, but his boyfriend anticipated him.
“I think the waiter’s giving me the eyes?”
Hearing him say it somehow made Dan even more annoyed. “You think?”
Phil, two drinks already in his system, smirked smugly. “Yeah, there’s definitely some electricity between us”
“I’ll give you some electricity”
“Are you going to beat him up for me, Dan?”
The brunette grimaced at him. “The worst part is you’d probably enjoy that”
“Never said I wouldn’t”
Dan tried to glare at him, but Phil smiled too wide, breaking his resolve. He sighed.
“I knew this would happen, anyway. You’re wearing the sweater”
Phil frowned, looking down at his clothes. “What’s with the sweater?”
Dan considered recounting all the previous offenses, but he knew Phil would make fun of him for it, like he did anytime a ‘Jealous Dan’ edit came up on his TikTok page. Not willing to give him even more teasing material, he shrugged.
“Forget it. Should I leave you and the waiter alone?”
“Mh, he is pretty cute,” Phil mused, looking over Dan’s shoulder. “Unfortunately for him, I’m already having dinner with the hottest man in the room”
Dan rolled his eyes, but could feel himself blushing. “Ass kisser”
“And you love it”
The next time the waiter walked past them, Dan made a point of intertwining his fingers with Phil’s over the table; the blonde didn’t say anything, drowning his smile in his glass. The waiter did leave his number under the check, but Phil threw it out as soon as they left; Dan almost felt bad for the guy.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The question read: “If you could throw away something from the other’s closet, what would you choose?”
Dan didn’t hesitate. “I’d get rid of the Four Seasons sweater”
Phil’s eyebrows shot upwards, but Dan kept his eyes on the fast-moving livestream chat. He could already read disbelieving comments, so he shrugged. “I just think it’s lost its shape”
He was lying through his teeth, but Phil didn’t call him out, focusing on finding something in his closet to throw under the bus. Only after they ended the stream, once they were laying on their couch in pajamas, did his boyfriend elbow him.
“Hey, what’s wrong with that sweater? You really think it looks bad?”
Dan considered saying yes, which would hopefully result in the sweater leaving their lives and taking its flirt-attraction powers with it. But Phil looked a little sad, and Dan felt a little insane, so he sighed.
“No. I just hate that it makes people hit on you”
The sentence sounded even crazier out loud, and Phil didn’t seem to register it for a couple of seconds. “What?” he finally asked, slowly.
“I said,” Dan repeated, exasperated, “it makes people hit on you. I don’t know why, it seems to have some sort of power”
“Have you hit your head?”
“I’m not kidding! First Marcus mentioned how nice it looks with the hair-”
“Marcus was not hitting on me, he’s married!”
“I know that! But he noticed,” Dan spread his hands, as if presenting a scientific thesis. “And then you were wearing it at the Four Seasons when that clerk hit on you”
“He was not-”
“He was. Then at the pub with your parents”
Phil frowned. “You heard that?”
“There was no need to hear, the guy was trying to eye-fuck you. I’d know that, it’s my speciality”
“You think everyone's trying to flirt with me!”
“He wasn’t?”
Phil looked sheepish. Finally, he relented. “Fine, he was. He asked for my number-”
“Ah-ah!”
“But I told him my partner wouldn’t approve,” Phil finished, raising his eyebrows at him. Dan felt a surge of satisfaction in his chest, and judging from Phil’s face, it probably showed.
“And then again at the restaurant. I’m telling you, there’s something going on with that thing”
Phil stared at him, silent, then snorted. “You are so strange”
“Fine, don’t believe me”
“And has it ever crossed your mind that I just look nice in that sweater, and that’s why people hit on me a bit more frequently?”
Dan rolled his eyes. “One more reason to throw it away. What do you need people flirting with you for?”
“To make my cute boyfriend jealous and act ridiculous,” Phil answered, leaning forward. Dan had an answer ready, but it was cut off by a kiss, which he decided was a much wiser use of his time. As Phil climbed over him, hands already sneaking under his shirt, Dan accepted the sweater wasn’t getting thrown out anytime soon. It was alright; he could always hide it later.