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Phil had always considered himself a man of reasonable self-control. He could resist buying every single houseplant he saw at the garden center. He could stop himself from adopting every dog at the rescue shelter. He could even (usually) refrain from making terrible puns when the opportunity presented itself.
But apparently, he had no control whatsoever when it came to Dan Howell emerging from the shower on a Tuesday morning.
It started innocently enough. Phil had been editing a video at the dining table, glasses perched on his nose, lost in the familiar rhythm of cutting and tweaking. He heard the bathroom door open down the hall, the soft pad of Dan's footsteps, and then Dan appeared in the doorway to grab his phone charger from the kitchen counter.
He was wearing grey joggers and that soft black fleece he'd had for years, and his hair (God, his hair) was still damp from the shower, natural curls weighted down and clinging to his forehead in a way that made Phil's brain short-circuit completely.
Phil's hands had moved before his brain caught up.
He found himself crossing the room, reaching out, and gently patting the top of Dan's head. Once, twice, three times. Soft little pats that made droplets of water shimmer in the morning light.
Dan looked up from untangling his charger cable, eyebrows raised. "...Did you just pat me?"
"Yes," Phil said, because he had and there was no point denying it.
Dan's mouth twitched into a smile, bemused. "Okay then."
He grabbed his charger and shuffled back down the hallway toward the gaming room, leaving Phil standing in the kitchen, vaguely aware that he'd just done something strange but completely unable to regret it.
The thing was, after sixteen years together, Dan was used to Phil's tactile nature. Phil was a hand-holder, a casual arm-around-the-shoulder person, a press-a-kiss-to-your-temple-while-passing type. But this felt different somehow. More impulsive. More intense. Like his chest was too full of affection and it had to go somewhere, and apparently his hands had decided patting was the solution.
Phil tried to focus on his editing. He really did.
He made it approximately twenty-three minutes before he found himself getting up, ostensibly to stretch his legs. He wandered past the gaming room and glanced through the open doorway. Dan was settled in his chair with his headphones on, completely absorbed in whatever he was playing. His hair had dried into those perfect chaotic curls, and he was doing that thing where he bit his bottom lip in concentration.
Something in Phil's chest squeezed almost painfully. How was it possible to look at someone for so long and still have moments where the fondness hit like a physical force? Dan was just sitting there, existing, being himself, and Phil felt like his heart might actually burst from it.
Phil found himself in the doorway. His hand reached out and patted Dan's shoulder as he passed.
Dan pulled one headphone off, glancing back with an amused smile. "Alright?"
"Yep. Just passing through."
"Right." Dan's eyes crinkled at the corners, but he just shook his head and went back to his game.
Phil retreated to the dining table, took exactly three sips of water he didn't actually want, and tried to figure out what was happening to him.
He couldn't quite explain it. It was this overwhelming surge of affection that made his chest feel too tight and his hands itch to do something (squeeze, hug, apparently pat) anything to express the sheer amount of fondness that had suddenly crashed over him like a wave. Dan had just looked so soft with his damp hair, and then so focused in his gaming chair, and Phil's brain had apparently decided patting was the only reasonable response.
He managed to make it through another round of editing before he heard an exaggerated groan and the sound of joints popping from the gaming room. Phil's lips quirked. Dan had been sitting too long again.
Sure enough, Dan emerged a few minutes later, shuffling toward the kitchen in his socks to make tea. He passed Phil's chair, stretching his arms above his head with a little yawn, and Phil caught a whiff of his shampoo—that coconut one he'd been using lately.
The wave of affection that crashed over Phil was almost ridiculous in its intensity. Dan was just walking to make tea. Just existing in their space, soft and sleepy and comfortable, and Phil felt like his entire chest was too small to contain what he was feeling.
Phil's hand shot out and patted Dan's hip as he passed.
Dan paused mid-shuffle, glancing down at Phil with raised eyebrows and a growing smile. "Are you... good?"
"Very good. Excellent, in fact."
"Okay, rat." But Dan was grinning as he continued to the kitchen, and Phil heard him humming something off-key while the kettle boiled.
Which, of course, made Phil's heart do something complicated in his chest, but that was a different issue entirely.
By lunchtime, Phil had nearly lost count of how many times he’d patted Dan. Somewhere around ten, maybe? Fifteen? It had escalated when Phil had been in the bedroom looking for a specific cable and heard a tremendous crash from the gaming room, followed by a colorful swear and then (adorably) an immediate apology to the lamp.
Phil had appeared in the doorway. "You alright?"
"Yeah, just—" Dan gestured at the lamp, now safely back on the desk beside his setup. "I'm a disaster."
The combination of clumsy and conscientious was too much for Phil's brain to handle. Phil's heart did something complicated. That surge of affection so strong it made his hands itch to reach out, to touch, to express somehow that he found Dan's apologizing to inanimate objects unbearably endearing. He crossed the room and patted Dan's head consolingly.
Dan had laughed, surprised. "Did you just comfort-pat me?"
"You looked like you needed it."
"I knocked over a lamp, not my entire life."
"Still counts." Phil had patted him once more for good measure.
"You're being so weird today," Dan said, but he was smiling. "Not complaining, just... observing."
"Noted," Phil said, and had to physically restrain himself from patting Dan a third time before heading back to find that cable.
The afternoon brought more opportunities. Phil kept finding reasons to get up from the dining table and wander past the gaming room. Dan doing a little wiggle dance in his chair during a loading screen. Dan pushing his hair back from his face with both hands, leaving it sticking up adorably. Dan laughing at something in his headphones with that surprised, genuine laugh that made his nose scrunch up.
That last one nearly killed Phil. The laugh was so unguarded, so purely Dan, and Phil felt his heart do something acrobatic in his chest. Years of hearing that laugh and it still made him feel like a teenager with a crush.
Each time, Phil found himself pausing in the doorway to pat Dan's shoulder or head before returning to his editing like nothing had happened.
Dan would glance up with an amused smile, sometimes a questioning look, but he'd just shake his head fondly and go back to his game.
Around midday, Phil got up to make himself a sandwich. He was standing at the counter, assembling ingredients, when Dan emerged from the gaming room with his empty mug.
"Tea?" Phil asked.
"Please."
They moved around each other in the kitchen with the ease of long practice. Phil slicing tomatoes while Dan filled the kettle. Dan reaching past Phil for a mug while Phil grabbed the butter. It was domestic and comfortable and so deeply familiar that Phil felt that surge of affection wash over him again.
Dan was waiting for the kettle to boil, leaning against the counter and scrolling through his phone, when Phil couldn't help himself. He walked past on his way to the fridge and patted Dan's head as he went.
Dan looked up with a grin. "Still at it, then?"
"Apparently."
"Weird day for you."
"Weird day for me," Phil agreed, and patted him again for good measure before retrieving the bread.
Dan just laughed and went back to his phone, and Phil thought about how easy this was. How Dan just let him be ridiculous without making it a thing. Well, without making it a big thing, anyway.
Phil managed to make it through another hour of editing, finished rendering a video, and started on some thumbnail options. He was doing great. He was being normal and restrained and—
He heard Dan swear from the gaming room, loud enough to carry down the hall.
Phil was up and moving before he'd consciously decided to do it.
He appeared in the doorway just as Dan pulled his headphones off, still frowning at whatever had just happened.
"Did you see that?" Dan asked, gesturing at his screen. "That was ridiculous, I—"
Phil reached out and patted his head.
Dan stopped mid-sentence, then gave him a crooked smiled, bemused. "Okay, rat."
Phil patted him once more and returned to his laptop.
The patting continued throughout the afternoon. Coffee delivery earned a head pat. A meme Dan showed him that made Phil snort-laugh warranted a shoulder squeeze. Dan simply existing while wandering to the room? Apparently that also deserved acknowledgment via gentle arm tap.
Each time, Dan would give him these fond, slightly confused looks, but he never said anything beyond the occasional "you're being weird today" or an amused shake of his head.
Late afternoon found them both taking a break. Dan had migrated to the sofa with his laptop, and Phil had followed with his own, both of them working on separate things in comfortable silence. Well, mostly silence. Dan was muttering under his breath at something on his screen, and Phil found it unreasonably cute.
"Problem?" Phil asked.
"Just..." Dan gestured vaguely at his laptop. "Trying to figure out this edit. The timing's all wrong."
"Want me to look?"
"Nah, I'll get it." Dan ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up in about fifteen different directions, and Phil felt his chest do that thing again. That overwhelming rush of fondness that made him want to reach out and...
Phil reached over and patted Dan's head, smoothing down some of the chaos.
Dan turned to look at him, eyebrows raised, a smile playing at his lips. "That's got to be like, what, number twenty-five at this point?"
"I'm not counting."
"Well I am. Mentally. For science."
"You're ridiculous."
"Says the person who's patted me approximately two dozen times today for no apparent reason."
"There's a reason."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
Phil considered this. How could he possibly explain that Dan just... existed, and it made Phil's heart feel too full? That every little thing Dan did made Phil want to express affection in some tangible way? That patting seemed like the only logical response to the sheer amount of fondness Phil was experiencing?
"You're pattable," Phil said finally.
Dan laughed, bright and surprised. "That's not a real explanation."
"It's the best I've got."
"Well," Dan said, his smile going soft, "I suppose I can live with being pattable."
He went back to his editing, and Phil went back to his own work, and the afternoon stretched on in comfortable domesticity.
By the time evening rolled around, they'd migrated to the sofa for their usual routine of watching something together. Tonight was Buffy. They were rewatching the whole series for what had to be the fourth or fifth time, because some things never got old.
Dan was sprawled on his end of the sofa in his fleece, a blanket pulled over his legs, his hair doing that thing where it curled around his ears. The opening credits started playing, and Phil felt that now-familiar surge of affection wash over him. That overwhelming fullness in his chest that made him want to reach out and squeeze Dan or hold him or just make contact somehow.
He reached over and patted Dan's knee.
Dan glanced down at Phil's hand, then up at his face, then started laughing. "Alright," he said, setting down his mug with exaggerated precision. "I'm calling it. You've got cuteness aggression."
Phil felt his ears go warm. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh my God, you do!" Dan looked unreasonably delighted by this revelation. "You think I'm cute and it's making you weird."
"I've always thought you were cute."
"Yeah, but this is like... concentrated cute. Weaponized cute. So much cute that you have to physically pat me every five minutes or you'll explode."
"That's not—" Phil paused. "Okay, that's actually kind of accurate."
Dan's grin turned softer. "You're such a sap."
"You knew this about me when you signed up."
"I did. Doesn't make it any less endearing." Dan shifted slightly, pulling the blanket more snugly around himself. "Also, for the record, I have been keeping count today."
"You haven't."
"I absolutely have. I'm going to make a spreadsheet."
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would. Time of pat, location of pat, severity of pat on a scale of one to ten..." Dan was grinning wickedly now.
Phil felt his ears go warm. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet, you keep patting me." Dan rearranged himself so he was closer to Phil's side of the sofa. "For the record, I don't mind. The patting thing. It's kind of nice, actually."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Makes me feel like—" Dan paused, seeming to search for the right words. "Like you're here. Like you see me, I guess. Even when I'm just existing and not doing anything particularly interesting."
Phil's chest did that thing again. That overwhelming wash of affection that made his throat tight. How could Dan not know that he was the most interesting thing in Phil's entire world? That Phil could watch him do absolutely nothing for hours and never be bored?
"Dan, you're always interesting to me. Even when you're doing absolutely nothing."
"That's because you're biased."
"Extremely biased," Phil agreed easily. "But also correct."
Dan huffed out a small laugh and let his head drop onto Phil's shoulder. "This is allowed, right? Since I'm so pattable and everything?"
"This is definitely allowed."
Phil wrapped his arm around Dan's shoulders, and they settled in to watch. Phil found himself running his fingers through Dan's curls absently. Not quite patting, but something gentler. Softer.
"You know," Dan murmured during a commercial break, "I think I figured it out."
"Figured what out?"
"Why you kept patting me today." Dan shifted so he could look up at Phil, brown eyes warm in the lamplight. "It's because you're incapable of keeping your affection to yourself. You have feelings and they just..." he made an exploding gesture with one hand, "come out at people."
Phil considered this. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," Dan said, soft and certain. "It's one of my favorite things about you, actually."
Oh, Phil's heart was definitely doing something complicated now. Possibly something acrobatic.
"Well," Phil managed, "you're one of my favorite things in general. Hence the patting."
"Hence the patting," Dan echoed, amused.
"I can stop if it's weird."
"Don't you dare. I've already mentally prepared myself for tomorrow's spreadsheet. I need data."
Phil laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of Dan's head—which was basically an elevated form of patting, when he thought about it. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet, you keep me around."
"Can't imagine why."
"Probably because I'm so pattable."
"Insufferable."
"Pattable."
"Both can be true."
Dan grinned and settled back against Phil's shoulder, pulling the blanket up over both of them. "Phil?"
"Mm?"
"You can pat me whenever you want, you know. I don't actually mind."
Phil's smile was private and warm, pressed into Dan's hair. "Noted."
"Even if you do it thirty more times tomorrow."
"It was probably closer to thirty times today, honestly."
Dan pulled back just enough to stare at Phil in delighted disbelief. "You WERE counting!"
"I contain multitudes."
"You're a sap, is what you are."
Phil didn't deny it. Instead, he reached out and—because he was apparently beyond help at this point—patted Dan's head one more time.
Dan's laugh was bright and happy, and he caught Phil's hand before he could pull away, lacing their fingers together instead.
"There," Dan said, satisfied. "Now you can't pat me anymore."
"Is that a challenge?"
"Phil, our hands are literally holding each other."
Phil lifted their joined hands and gently bopped them against the top of Dan's head.
"That doesn't count!"
"Absolutely counts. That's a team pat. We patted you together."
"That's not—you can't just—" Dan was laughing too hard to finish his sentence, and Phil was laughing too, and this was them. This was their life. Small and soft and ridiculous and theirs.
Dan had gone quiet, his thumb tracing idle patterns on the back of Phil's hand where they were still linked together. His other hand crept up to play with the strings of his fleece, a sure sign he was content and relaxed.
"Hey Phil?" Dan said eventually, his voice soft under the sound of the TV.
"Yeah?"
"I love you, you know. Even when you're being weird and patting me constantly."
"Especially when I'm being weird and patting you constantly?"
"Especially then."
Phil squeezed Dan's hand and pulled him closer, tucking Dan more securely against his side. "I love you too. Obviously."
"Obviously," Dan echoed, amused.
Phil reached over with his free hand and patted Dan's shoulder one more time, just because he could.
Dan's smile was worth every single pat.
They stayed like that for the rest of the episode and the one after, curled together on the sofa as the evening deepened around them. At some point they both started providing running commentary, debating character choices and pointing out favorite moments the way they always did when rewatching.
And yes, Phil patted Dan a few more times. Sue him.
This was good. This was right. This was them, small and soft and ridiculous together.
And if that involved an unreasonable amount of patting? Well, Dan had said he didn't mind.
Phil could work with that.