Chapter Text
There comes a time in a young man's life
He should settle down and find himself a wife
March 2024
“He liked my jokes so much he put a ring on it!”
It’s a joke. An allusion to the game they’re playing. Phil probably just saw the occasion to bring out the topic and have a laugh at Dan’s expense, because he can’t exactly make Dan retort in a way that won’t reveal their little secret (which is in the workings but that’s not here nor there) and play into the ‘jealous Dan’ bit their audience loves. Double ragebait, two birds with one stone, etc.
Dan chooses to silently glare at Phil and hopes his eyes communicate the pointed insult he wants to throw his way. There’s a high chance it works, as Phil only grins even wider.
“Oh god.”
“He liked them so much he put a king on it.”
“On what?!”
They continue the gameplay and Dan chooses to dismiss it. He takes it as the harmless little joke it is, and doesn’t pay attention as to whether his mind compartmentalises it somewhere in the back of his brain or not.
What harm can a joke do? It’s nothing serious. How can a joke be serious? That’s an oxymoron. Phil should know that, he has a degree.
June 2024
“Camilla over on Wednesday, thoughts?”
“We have busy Monday and Tuesday though.” Dan responds without looking up from his book, knowing Phil will pick up on the question hidden in there.
“I know… But she’s easy to talk to-”
“Yeah, extroverted.”
“-and I can clean tomorrow.”
“You won’t.” Dan looks up and shoots him a glare that says ‘I know you’.
“You’re no fun.” Phil responds with a pout.
A bird chirps somewhere in the distance and Dan’s gaze catches on a strand of Phil’s hair that curled up on the top of his head like those swirls anime characters have. His bleached hair reflects the summer sun so much it sometimes kind of hurts to look at without sunglasses.
Their garden in the summer is like a little, private paradise they have built for themselves. Various plants they managed to keep alive despite having little experience with anything that wasn’t confined to a pot, hell, they have an entire cherry blossom tree in there! Everything blooms with beautiful colours, each plant a small masterpiece on its own composed into a greater painting that they get to enter and sit in whenever they like.
Besides the permanent bench that’s in there, they have two sunbeds set up during the season that are perfect for relaxing in the sun and naps. On the occasion one of them reads a book, they often do it here, and, sometimes, the other just comes along to lay down and doze off a little. Or look at tiktok slash reels. Bask in each other’s presence, you know? Sit with their backs to their neighbours so they never have to see any unwanted dick.
"But we haven’t seen her in so long…” Phil continues. He puts his phone down and focuses his attention on Dan, as if preparing to reveal something, “And she rarely has any days off, you know that.”
Dan shuts his book with a ‘clasp!’ and closes his eyes. It’s true that Camilla works practically all the time, and Dan does like her but if she gets here and they’re both exhausted-
“...And I’ve heard Tony proposed-”
There’s a weird churn somewhere deep in Dan’s stomach. He’s not entirely sure it’s from hunger.
He chooses to ignore it.
“You want to hear the tea!” Dan suddenly sits up straighter and dramatically takes off his sunglasses, “Philip Michael Lester, you wanted to trick me!”
“I didn’t-”
“You thought you could go under my radar!” Dan puts on a fake-upset voice and points an accusatory finger at Phil. the man bursts into giggles.
“I don’t- You-” he struggles to compose a sentence as Dan approaches him until he’s practically looming over him, which only worsens his state, “I just- I wanted to see your real reaction and now you’ve ruined it!”
“You wanted to hide the truth from me!” He points the finger directly at Phil’s nose, so close he’s almost touching it, “Liar!”
They hold eye contact for a few seconds until they both give in and completely burst into laughter.
“Oh, I can’t wait for another Lester engagement story.” Dan shakes his head, then reaches for the curled strand of hair on Phil's head and smooths it down. Phil gives him a fond smile.
“You know it’s gonna be a good one though.”
“When has it ever not been a good one with your family?”
“I’m thinking…” Phil rubs his chin thoughtfully and looks around, as if he’s pondering some serious philosophical matter, “Mountains. His girlfriend- sorry, fiancée,” he accentuates the word and pointedly looks at Dan who just rolls his eyes, and he feels nothing at the word, thank you very much, “likes to climb and he used to be terrified but I’ve heard they’ve done it a couple of times together…”
“So what, he got on one knee mid-climb? In the air? Propped himself over a rocky wall horizontally?”
“Maybe!” Phil responds as if he actually entertains the suggestions. In truth, they might not be as far-fetched as Dan’s sense of what is reasonable or possible would like him to believe. “You remember the underwater one-”
“And the horse one.”
“-and the horse one, so who knows what they did this time.” Phil lays back down on his sunbed and toys with his phone on his chest. “I suspect auntie Felice is involved.”
“But that's the other side of the family.”
“That's the point,” he gestures with his hand, doing a vague circling motion that asks ‘isn’t it obvious?’, “The more people involved the better.”
“Oh, of course.” The Lesters are the most extraordinary in their simpleness people he knows, obviously the entire family has to get involved.
“She even gave me ideas for my engagement, remember that?”
Yeah.
No-
Dan does. He does remember, because they used to joke about it every time Phil mentioned his aunt, and the image of Phil on one knee on a race track or something will never cease to make them both laugh when mentioned, but right now, for some reason, he really doesn’t want to think about it. About a neat silver band on Phil’s-
“Like the tumblr one?” Dan says, because he’s not gonna ponder on a stupid, imaginary, unrealistic picture like that. It’s nothing.
“Oi, that wasn’t her best work, alright?”
“‘Cause as we know the rest is so much better.”
Phil giggles.
It’s really nothing.
The discussions were purely theoretical, back then. It wasn't even legal for same-sex couples to marry, so the mere idea was laughable. It didn't mean anything.
It doesn't mean anything.
He plops back onto his sunbed and forces his thoughts back on the track of Camilla and the hang out. He can’t say he’s not leaning more towards agreeing after the new information – he also wants to hear the tea, and he really likes Camilla… However if they’re both tired then they won't even be able to-
“You know what,” he interrupts his train of thought, perhaps against his better judgement but whatever, “Tell her Wednesday is fine.”
Phil beams at him so brightly Dan thinks it might start to burn.
December 2024
Dan’s ears are still ringing when they enter the hotel.
They are greeted by the gentle “ding!” of a lift that gets multiplied in their heads tenfold, and a nice, middle-aged blonde lady at the desk.
“Yes, it should be under ‘Howell’.”
It doesn’t usually look like this – they mostly move around in a bus where they don’t have to talk to anyone, or check into hotels before they perform – so it has been some time since they have been put in a situation like this. Since Dan had felt like this. Standing besides Phil like a rug doll, barely in contact with the world, would rather die than speak to anyone, pretty much just useless. And he can’t do anything about it, is what’s infuriating. He knows Phil is exhausted too, that there’s the same ringing in his ears as in Dan’s, that his body aches just as much and that he hates talking to strangers the same as Dan does. Anybody could hear the fatigue in his voice, and Dan feels terrible about it. About putting all of their theoretically shared responsibilities onto Phil.
He hears the woman type something on her computer. Or laptop. Whatever thing that has keys on it, and after a moment she hums approvingly.
“I see, your room number will be 304, would you like two sets of keys?.”
“Uh- yes, please.”
She smiles and disappears into a door behind her.
Just as she does, Phil yanks a surprised Dan by his wrist towards himself. His expression is steadily kept at neutral settings as he loosely interlocks their fingers between the desk and their luggage, where theoretically nobody can see, and lightly squeezes Dan’s hand.
He has half a mind to squeeze back, but in his current state this awakens a deep-seated, well-known anxiety. Their crew – who already know, what is your problem? – sit in the back end of the lounge, so they can’t exactly see the duo, and the hall was empty when they first entered but this is a hotel, practically a public space this part of it, and anyone – you want to reveal this to the internet, get it together – could walk in at any moment and record without his knowledge-
“You’re thinking too loud.” Phil says and bumps their shoulders. Dan feels Phil's thumb smoothing over his knuckles.
The anxiety is much easier to keep under control when he’s not on the verge of unconsciousness.
The lady comes back with the same, warm but tired smile of someone who knows their shift is about to end, and puts the keys on the counter.
“Your room is located on the fourth floor, second to last on the left.” She looks as if she’s deciding something and Dan immediately clocks that it’s nothing good, “If you’re interested, our hotel also hosts date nights for couples on Wednesdays-”
Dan can’t control it when his head snaps up so fast it makes his vision go a little fuzzy. He really doesn’t have the energy for this.
“Oh, no, we’re not-” He jumps to correct her and his voice comes out hoarse.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I just didn’t want to assume-” He’s glad for the early interruption, because one more word and his voice might have begun to crack. The assumption isn’t anything new, and it doesn’t terrify him as much as it did when he was younger, closeted and scared. It’s just mostly annoying now, how people like to put others into neat little boxes and- “Newlyweds are also welcome”
Suddenly Dan feels a little bit like throwing up.
For reasons unknown.
“We-”
“We’ll be sure to check it out,” Phil’s grip on Dan’s hand tightens for a second behind the desk as he quickly takes the keys and, with surprising ease, reciprocates the woman’s smile. “Thank you.”
Newlyweds.
Dan releases Phil’s hand and they pack their luggage into the lift.
They bid their crew goodnight as they spill onto the lower floors until the two of them are the only ones left in the lift. They reach the fourth floor, quickly find their room and throw their bags vaguely in the direction of the bed. Phil manages to retrieve his pyjamas faster than Dan and heads to the shower first, the little bitch he is, leaving Dan alone with his thoughts for a moment.
Why didn't Phil correct her?
He could have, right?
Dan, given his stance on everything marriage related, should not be feeling anything but mild annoyance at the mention of the empty word 'newlyweds'.
They exchange tired glances when Phil comes out of the bathroom and Dan immediately goes in instead, no words needed. Maybe if he takes a steamy shower his mind will clear a little, or maybe he just needs a good night’s rest and a break from the intensity of the tour. Maybe, he thinks as the hot water finally hits his skin and relieves some of the tensions in his muscles, he just needs to let it go and disappear in the shower drain.
When he dries himself and slips under the soft covers, he does feel a little better. The knot his stomach was tied into feels a little loose now, and he thinks he’s almost fine.
Almost. Maybe what’s bothering him now is actually something else.
Phil could have corrected her.
“What the hell was that there?” Even spoken in a hushed tone, it still cuts right through the still air around them, disturbing the peace.
“What?” Phil is on tiktok, one earbud in, and doesn’t even turn his head to speak, his thumb not so much as twitching as he scrolls continuously.
“You know.”
“I don’t.”
“Phil.” Dan kicks him lightly under the covers. With the amount of energy he puts into it it might look more like a gentle shove but it makes Phil stop the scroll for a minute, is what matters.
“Dan,” Phil mimics his voice and finally turns his head to him, “The desk lady?”
Dan is too tired to retort, so he hopes Phil reads the ‘what else do you think I mean?’ through his stare.
Phil squints at him and sighs. He puts the phone away.
“I was tired,” he rubs his eye as if to prove the point, “and I had no energy to pointlessly correct her.”
“But she said we were ‘newlyweds’.”
“What difference does that make?” Phil asks matter-of-factly, and Dan has to admit he… does have a point. It really doesn't make a difference.
It shouldn't, at least.
Dan hums instead of actually answering. He’s still not entirely sure whether the uneasy feeling in his stomach is really gone or he’s just too tired to pay it enough attention. His eyelids kind of glue to one another, and it’s getting harder and harder to lift them back up every time he blinks.
He shuffles closer to Phil and puts an arm around his chest then hooks a foot under his calf.
“Goodnight to you too.” He catches Phil’s fond smile between the vowels. He’s almost sure Phil once said something to him about hearing expressions in people’s voices. He’s too tired to try and remember that.
What difference does that make, Dan?
May 2025
“So, what can I get for you today?” The waiter asks in a cheerful tone, looking between the two of them. He has a distinct, heavy accent but his English is good enough.
“I’d like…” Phil orders first, as he always does in places like these. It’s a kind of system they’ve built – it’s easier for Phil to get out all of his intricacies about food and particular ingredients first, ask all the questions he wants to ask about whether something contains cheese and whatnot, so then Dan can finish it off with something simpler, usually unmodified to spare the waiter’s sanity right at the end.
This is fine. Normal for them.
But what is weird about today, is the waiter’s eyes.
They’re looking Phil up and down as Phil, seemingly oblivious to the whole endeavour, recites his order, a smile growing on the man’s lips as he eagerly and with surprising fervour notes down everything Phil wants changed, deleted or added to his meal. It’s probably the first time Dan sees somebody so happy to be writing down Phil’s list of requests for the chef, and maybe from some point of view that’s somehow good – at least they’ll be sure the list actually arrives at the kitchen and is spared more than a single glance.
But Dan doesn’t like it.
“Those are amazing choices, sir,” the waiter says with a grin and Dan suppresses the urge to roll his eyes when the man turns to him and simply asks, “and for you?”
Dan forces his tone and expression to both stay neutral as he gives his order.
“Great,” the man concludes and immediately turns back to Phil, the smile returning to his face right away, “I’ll make sure our chef gets everything for you right.”
“Thank you,” Phil gives a smile in return, and the waiter walks away.
Dan pays attention to not follow the waiter with his glare and instead focuses solely on Phil.
“He was totally giving you the eyes." He deadpans.
“Dan!” Phil squeaks, “He was just being nice.”
“Sure thing, buddy.”
Phil laughs. Despite himself, Dan cracks a smile.
Barely a minute passes when a different waiter, a woman this time, arrives with their drinks – sparkling rosé with two glasses and a cup of tea for Dan.
It’s nice, this restaurant. They’re here on vacation, so they are letting themselves treat each other to something fancy more often. It’s an extremely rare occurrence for them to go on a dinner date like this, alone, just the two of them, so they weren’t going to pass up a chance like this one – on a holiday in a far-away country, the amount of prying eyes dramatically decreased, allowing them to chill and relax. Do some cheesy couple-y stuff once in a century.
If only the waiter wasn’t hitting on-
wasn’t acting weird.
Dan can’t make any judgements (yet), because the man really didn’t do anything to wrong him (for now), so he drops the topic.
They chat about everything and nothing, and the conversation flows, easy and smooth, as it always does with them. They jump through topics – yet another replay of Final Fantasy VII and a painfully wrong video essay Phil saw about it, repairing their gaming laptop, a hypothetical question on where in the Pacific Phil would like their hypothetical ship to sink for it to be interesting and make the news, how great the ice cream from the van next to their hotel is.
And the goddamned Switch 2.
“It's a jump for cash.” Dan states, frustration clear in his voice.
“Yeah, but-”
“No, Phil, my beautiful gaming RGB tactile keyboard was barely more expensive than a singular game on that thing will be.”
“Yes, but have you seen the trailers? Dan, god, Dan – Deltarune.”
Dan shuts up for a second.
“On console!” Phil sounds a little bit like a salesman, but the excitement is genuine, of course it is.
“I hate this world.”
“We're gonna get it anyway, though.”
Dan sighs. They both know they will.
Phil beams at him. Dan takes a sip of his drink to cover up his smile.
And then the waiter comes back. Because it seems terrible things like to come in two.
“We are very sorry, but the kitchen has run out of lettuce and we have to request you to change that part of your order, please.”
It's Phil's meal, because the universe just hates Dan like that, by giving the waiter more chances to talk to Phil and pointedly ignore his boyfriend of 16 years, sitting right across from him as if it isn't obvious he's taken.
Phil reaches over for the menu searching for the appetizers page, but the man speaks up before Phil has the chance to choose, “I would recommend one of the deep-fried, sweeter ones,” the waiter's smile turns into a bit of a smirk and he leans towards Phil a little, “fitting for a customer like you.”
Phil has the audacity to shoot Dan a quick look before giggling.
“Well then, I'll let you surprise me.” Phil chirps and closes the menu, eyes locked on the man who quickly notes something down. Even through this weird angle, Dan can still see the waiter bite his bottom lip. With no intentions behind it, obviously.
“I appreciate your trust in me, sir.”
And he's gone.
This time Dan allows himself to follow the man with his burning glare and pretend to project all of the world's suffering onto him. As a coping mechanism.
Then he turns back to Phil, who smiles at him innocently. Dan gives him the coldest look he can muster and hopes his eyes convey how done he is with this man. Phil's smile widens.
Dan isn't actually, truly upset though. They're both fine with some flirting with other people, because they're secure in their trust that the other will always come back and never let things go too far. It's fun to fish out each other's jealous sides, even if they're half-hearted, but Phil is much better at the art than Dan – probably because Phil just has his whole… weird, aloof, kind of sociopathic vibe that makes him generally a really chill person who rarely gets worked up and Dan- well, he's Dan.
And Phil knows Dan.
They don't actually mention it, because where's the fun in that? They're both aware of the little game they are playing, as well as of the fact that the other is okay with it – they're tuned to each other enough to know it. What's the point in breaking the spell?
So they go about other topics, then pretend to discuss pokemon while actually trying to listen in on the couple two tables over who seem to be arguing about something fiercely for a while before the woman stands up and yells something in a language they don't recognize, then storms off out of the restaurant. The man sits alone for a while, hunched over his meal as he finishes it and leaves too, his posture conveying nothing but great suffering.
Dan feels a little bad for the guy, but he figures he might have deserved it – and it serves as an entertaining show. They speculate on what the couple was arguing about for a while, and hear a bunch of other English speakers around them do the same.
Then their meals arrive.
And the waiter is back.
“Here you go,” he says to Phil in a cheerful tone as he puts the plate before him, but doesn't even spare Dan a glance as he puts down his dish.
“Thank you,” Phil replies in a tone mimicking the waiter's.
The man fucking- puts his hand on Phil's shoulder and says, "I hope it's all according to your tastes."
Phil giggles a little and blinks up at the waiter, giving him a glance over, "I'm sure it will be."
Reasonably, Dan knows it's mocking. That it's a joke. But he still feels something thrumming under his skin, low and burning.
They eat and Dan hates that the food tastes heavenly. Just the right ratio of crispy outside to soft inside, the perfect amount of seasoning in his dips, even the fries are the exact density of slightly too salty that he loves and match everything else perfectly.
A sound that's slightly too dirty for the public to hear escapes his mouth at some point and Phil kicks him under the table.
They finish with all of the plates almost licked clean, and so it's time for dessert.
Dan notices the teasing smile on Phil's face instantly when they see the waiter approach their table again. It's like he wants to tell him that something is about to happen, maybe even warn him, and Dan already doesn't like it.
“Have you enjoyed your meals?” Theoretically, the question is addressed to them both, but the man only looks at Phil.
“They were fine.” Dan deadpans a bit too loudly to catch the waiter's attention and, hopefully, throw him off guard. It seems to work, somewhat.
“They were splendid, thank you.” Phil says right after and fucking- bats his eyelashes at him. The waiter turns around and it ruins all the work Dan has managed to just accomplish.
Instead of immediately leaving with another ugly grin on his face, the waiter stays. His back is turned to Dan and he props himself on the table with one hand, as if to block him out.
The audacity.
“Only for the prettiest customers.”
It's a terrible line. The exact opposite of smooth, but Phil still giggles. He doesn't even budge when Dan kicks him the shin.
The man leans into Phil's space even more. Phil doesn't pull back, a pleased smile plastered on his face. He knows exactly what he's doing.
“And if you'd like-”
“Sorry, but my man's taken.” Dan finally interrupts, because he physically cannot take anymore. He catches a glimpse of Phil's pleased expression in the corner of his eye, but his attention is mostly focused on the waiter.
He still takes a split second to cherish the words as they roll off his tongue. He doesn't get to say this often.
“Oh, really?” The man turns to him but he's still leaning far too close into Phil's space for Dan's liking.
“Yeah, for years.” He adds, because he can. He's allowed to, this one time.
The waiter huffs and shakes his head.
“Well, I don't see no ring on that pretty hand,” He bobs his bead at the table where Phil's hand rests. “So it's still fair game, isn't it?”
Dan kind of feels like somebody punched the air out of his lungs. He is, metaphorically, kicked right in his gut and his insides twist uncomfortably. The sensation doesn't mix well with the food he just ate.
He instinctively covers Phil's hand with his own.
That's not-
Fuck.
“You wouldn't even have a chance.” Dan puts as much venom into his voice as he’s physically able to.
Because this doesn't even fall under flirting anymore, it is just straight up fucking rude. Objectifying.
“Can't judge until you've tried.” The waiter has the audacity to smirk at him.
He finally leaves after that.
It's safe to say that the waiter doesn't come back after that. The woman who brought their drinks before takes his place, and Dan is eternally grateful for it.
Dan chastises Phil for his unabashed flirting, but he isn't actually angry with him. Phil only laughs in response and throws in a sarcastic comment or two. Then they continue their evening and it passes relatively fine, even fun at times.
When their check arrives, there's a small note attached to it with a phone number. They both laugh when they see it and when they leave, Phil immediately throws it into the nearest bin outside the restaurant.
"I don't see a ring on that pretty hand, so it's still fair game-"
It was just a fucked up thing to say, right? It would be shitty no matter who the waiter said it to, because it was rude in and of itself — insulting to both parties, treating one person like some kind of treasure and the other dismissively, like a joke. Anybody would be at least a little annoyed if something like that had been said to them, so Dan is justified in feeling a little mad about it. Because it's a generally upsetting line.
This is why he had always been so adamant about hating social constructs such as "marriage". This is why he despised them so much, because all it turned love into was some kind of sick race to the finish line, whoever can "claim" the best "prize" the fastest, and it made unmarried couples somehow… lesser, and as if those relationships weren't worth as much as those that had a piece of paper saying they can romantically pay taxes together.
"Despised". Past tense. That's the problem, isn't it?
What changed?
Dan is-
Dan is almost sure he knows. He knows something is up, he knows he shouldn't wallow on what the waiter had said so much, knows that he should have laughed it off and end the line of thought at saying "That was fucked up!" to Phil when they left, but he didn't. And he knows that that means something.
When they get back to their hotel, Dan is more than willing to let Phil fish out a bit of his possessive side. It's still part of their little game, after all.
Dan will confront what the thought means when he's back in dirty London. Right now he's on vacation and he's allowed some more oblivious fun with his boyfriend.
October 2025
The place is bustling and Dan doesn’t exactly know why that is.
He’s sitting in a chair next to something akin to a dressing table, with a bunch of makeup articles scattered around and pieces of clothing laying here and there, but with no mirror in sight. It’s not a big room, but it is practically filled with people Dan doesn’t recognize.
Okay, maybe he fishes out somebody… Is that Sophie? Did he just see a flick of Louise’s blond hair, or was that something else? But he can swear he recognized that dress-
He’s not scared. No, it feels as if he subconsciously knows why he’s here and what’s going on, just that his brain is currently… withholding that information. So he decides to calmly set out to find out where exactly he is and what he’s doing there.
He tries to stand up but there’s a hand on his shoulder that quickly holds him in place, and a voice he doesn’t recognize, a high-pitched female one, that asks him to wait some more.
“It’s not the time yet,” the woman says in a giddy tone, and Dan has to make with that what he can.
Which is close to nothing.
He looks around again – everything looks the same and the place hasn’t magically morphed into something else, so maybe he’s not going mad. This must have a logical explanation, but it will be hard to find it if he can’t even stand up.
Dressing room. He’s preparing for something – he doesn’t know what, not yet, but he’ll get there. Public appearance, maybe. Awards show? But he hasn’t been on something like that in years, almost a decade, there’s no way. He would be much more stressed if that was the case, and he’s not. Well, now that he thinks about it he does feel something akin to stress but it’s different – more like- anticipation. For what? He talked with Phil about doing another calendar but they haven’t even decided on the theme, so this can’t be that. Maybe if Phil-
Phil.
Where is Phil?
The last project Dan did on his own was two years ago, so if this is something like that, another- project of some sorts, then he must be doing it with Phil.
But he’s nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Phil?”
“What?” A different woman he also doesn’t recognize answers, giving him a puzzled look, “He’s in the other room. Already missing your man?”
How-
“No- okay, yep, thanks.” He gives her a smile he hopes passes as a somewhat natural one.
How does she know?
Okay, a random woman just- happens to know they’re together, which is- fine. But it’s not, actually, because people aren’t meant to know. Well, they are but- not now. They're meant to be informed on Dan and Phil's terms in a few days' time, but not now. Barely anybody knows now, so this random woman whose name Dan doesn’t even know can’t possibly hold this information. Was it a joke? It didn’t sound like one. He likes to think- no, he knows can pick up on jokes easily, and this was playful but otherwise serious. And that’s not right-
This situation is strange. Despite the fact he was feeling somewhat calm before, he is beginning to feel panic rise in his throat. It’s the last thing he wants or needs to experience at the moment but he really can't control it when everything is weird and uncanny and wrong-
He examines the room yet again, hoping Phil will maybe make an appearance from ‘the other room’ and clear things up, be his knight in shining armour or whatever, but to no avail. He takes a deep breath in and out, three times, until he doesn’t feel like his heart might jump out of his chest, and then-
He notices the clothes he’s wearing.
The tightness around his throat isn’t caused purely by panic and the build-up of other emotions – it’s a shirt buttoned up all the way to the top and a tie tightened around his neck that are obscuring his airways a little. The heavy weight on his chest isn’t just stress – it’s a nice suit hung loosely around his shoulders; and his feet aren’t restless only from fear, but because he hasn't bought himself elegant shoes since 2012 (vans are universal, okay?) so these leather ones are a size too small.
He also notices there’s some kind of product in his hair that feels different to how he usually styles it. It feels stiffer, more pronounced, like it’s meant to hold on longer.
All of that serves to confirm his theory about some sort of event that he’s going to attend, but otherwise it only makes everything feel even more strange. It's beginning to make him feel strange. Like his entire being is somehow skewed, unfit to whatever's happening.
The clothes still fit his dark, somewhat edgy, emo-adjacent style, but they're not something he would pick to wear for an event. Or maybe he would? They hadn't done events for years, he hadn't exactly had time to consider his outfit for a theoretical event he would perhaps attend in the foreseeable-or-not future, but it seems that maybe he should have. But, why? He cannot figure out just why is all of this happening, why exactly is he here, why Phil isn't with him-
Against the protest of the people fussing around him, he stands up and heads for the only door he sees. There are hands trying to stop him and voices calling after him — a man stands in his way but he pushes him away with, what he hopes is, the right mix of a gentle but firm shove.
And he's out.
He feels hot and sweaty and the suit that used to hang around his shoulders is gone, but he couldn't care less.
He closes the door behind him and, to his surprise, nobody runs after him.
He unbuttons the collar of his shirt, adjusts his tie so that breathing isn't as much of a chore and releases a deep sigh. He looks around — he's in an empty, short corridor with a window on one end and a ramification on the other. The walls are painted an ugly shade of yellow-ish beige, and there are… three? other doors he can see, besides the one he exited from.
He tries not to let the panic take over him, and halts all the catastrophic thoughts by setting himself one clear goal: find Phil.
Dan knows Phil is somewhere in there. In one of the rooms, and if they're as small as his one was, then it shouldn't be a hard task. Phil probably knows more than Dan, if he hasn't already run off terrified himself, so if Dan finds him all will be well and fine. It's no big deal, and this will soon be over.
He approaches the door opposite to the one behind him and tries to listen in. He doesn't hear anything suspicious, so he tries the handle and-
It's closed.
Okay. This is fine. Just one less room to worry about.
He comes over to the next door and does the same thing, but here there is some clearly audible rustling and chatter behind the thin wood. He practically plasters his ear to the door in an attempt at discerning the voices.
His hand is on the handle the second he thinks he hears Phil.
He opens the door and… 6? people or so all turn to face him at once.
One of them is Phil.
He's here. Phil's here.
Finally, thank god.
“Oh god, Phil-”
“Dan?” Phil stands up from where he was sitting, right next to a weird dressing table just like the one Dan's room had, and heads towards him with a confused expression. He sounds alarmed. “What are you doing here?”
“Well- Yeah, what am I doing?” The question spills out before he has a chance to word it better but Dan is just- so fucking relieved at the sight of his boyfriend and the familiar ability to reach out and touch, ground and calm himself by feeling the body next to him, that he almost forgets about his previous cause of panic. “I had to find you."
“What?” Phil grips him by his arms and sounds- he sounds almost worried. Why is he worried? “You're acting strange.”
“Because- ‘Cause this is strange!” Dan exclaims at the same time a nervous laugh escapes him. He's feeling a little self-conscious as all the people in the room he doesn't know are still looking at them. But he's justified in acting like this, at least one of them must know it, right?
Phil looks over his shoulder for a moment.
“Sorry Emily, I'll just-”
He opens the door and pushes Dan over the doorstep back to the corridor, then quickly shuts it behind them.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“That's the thing, Phil, I don't know.”
Phil furrows his brows and reaches for Dan's cheek. Dan almost winces at the coldness of Phil's hand but the urge to do it is overwhelmed by the calming effect the skin on skin contact has on him. Now that he's found Phil everything will get cleared up and soon he will understand everything and feel sane again. It will be fine. It will be fine because Phil is here and Dan is safe with Phil.
“Are you okay?” He doesn't sound annoyed but genuinely perplexed. And worried, again.
“I- I think so?” The question snaps him out a bit of whatever trance he was just in. Why wouldn't he be?
Then, out of nowhere, a few realisations hit Dan at the same time:
One, this isn't normal. He shouldn't experience complete memory loss out of the blue, without anybody knowing or noticing.
Two, there is something weird about Phil's hand. For the most part it's normal, because Phil always runs a bit cold, especially in his limbs, but there's something on one of his fingers. Something metal that he can't see, but begins to suspect what it might be.
Three, he is most certainly dreaming.
“Oh.”
“Dan, you're being weird and I'm-”
He yanks Phil's hand away from his face and examines it closely.
He didn't want to believe it. But there it is.
A metal band around his ring finger.
An actual ring.
Fourth realisation: Phil does not casually wear rings.
Fifth: this is an engagement ring.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Phil still sounds worried but now there's an undertone of something like annoyance creeping into his words.
Sixth: they are getting ready for a wedding.
Dan doesn't know how to respond to that. He doesn't-
There is no way he-
This isn't-
Oh, but he knows he could have-
But it's not-
“Because if you are then- then fine. But you could've said something earlier.” Even dream-Phil is as forgiving as the real life one, and Dan- Well, Dan feels tears well up in his eyes.
This isn't right.
Suddenly the choice of clothing doesn't seem so strange. Phil's shirt and suit also compliment his style, but both their outfits go well together, despite their differences. They are elegant and expensive-looking, tailored specifically for their long, thin bodies. Dan looks down at his 13 years old shoes and feels a little silly.
But this isn't real.
“Dan?”
This is a dream. He's still holding Phil's hand, gripping it by the wrist, unable to turn his gaze away from the ring, and tries to focus on the fact that he didn't actually consent to a wedding and forgot, because this isn't real, and he's okay. He didn't come to his own wedding in 13 years old shoes because there is no wedding since this is a dream.
“Dan.”
Now that he tries to focus on the band, he finds that he can't actually work out any finer details on it. One moment it's a small and skinny golden wire, the second it's a silver, thick band encrusted with small green crystals, and then it turns into a big one with a giant diamond in the middle that doesn't suit any of them.
“Dan!” The hand forces itself out of his grip and he feels it grab his arm. His eyes have not moved, still glued to the place where the finger and the ring used to be. But they shouldn't be.
They shouldn't be, right?
“Dan!”
He opens his eyes.
When did he close them?
The room- is dark. Almost pitch-black and he feels disoriented and scared for a moment before his eyes begin to adjust.
He slowly regains his senses and finds that the same hand that's been gripping his arm in his dream is actually gripping his arm in real life. He finds that he's half upright, somehow, and that a pillow digs uncomfortably into his ribs.
He's in their bed. In their shared bedroom. In their shared bedroom that he knows and recognizes and Phil is there. His Phil. The real Phil.
And the real Phil looks scared. And worried. Ironically similar to his dream-self.
“I'm here.” Dan croaks out, his voice raspy, still clouded with sleep, but he has to let Phil know he woke up before that expression of his turns into something worse.
“Thank god,” Phil exhales and releases Dan's arm, “You scared the shit out of me, again.”
Dan just looks at him, puzzled.
“You kept on going on with saying some random stuff and then you yelled asking where I am, and then- then some things about not knowing something, and random words and you sounded so panicked, I thought this was another ‘man in the room’ moment!”
Despite still feeling a little shaken up from the dream, Dan snorts.
“It's not funny!”
“Oh, it is.” Dan rubs his eyes and cracks a small smile. His brain is working overtime to catch up with the different Phils he has just interacted with.
“Fuck you,” Phil responds in a semi-annoyed voice, but he seems more relaxed now, and the worried frown is softened, “for ruining my- my peaceful slumber.”
“Love you, too.” Dan goes lax against the headboard.
“But seriously, what was that?”
Yeah, Dan. What was that?
“Nightmare.” He answers, truthful to how shaken up he feels because of it. Phil looks at him expectantly, waiting for Dan to continue, “I know you were- you were gone. I was alone in some weird place, I didn't know anyone. And I had to look for you- to find you.”
There's a beat of silence.
An invitation. Up to Dan whether he accepts it.
“And when I did you didn't actually- didn't really recognize me.” His voice went quiet at the end.
This isn't a lie.
It's true that suddenly appearing in a place he didn't recognize with people he didn't know and Phil nowhere in sight was stressful to say the least. It's true that he was terrified and felt the urge to find Phil, and it's still partially true that Phil didn't recognize him.
Okay, the last part is mostly a lie but there's a hint of truth. Dream-Phil didn't recognise Real-Life-Dan once Dan realised he was dreaming, so, in a sense, he isn't lying.
He's internally fighting for his life. Let him have this.
“Okay.” Phil answers, his voice soft, the annoyance instantly gone. “Well, I'm here.” he says, simply.
“Yeah.” Dan lets his body slump to the side and crash against his partner's arm. Phil releases a dull ‘oof’ sound but Dan ignores it as a hand begins to comb through his hair, helping him relieve the remaining tension.
“You still scared the shit out of me, though.”
“Sorry.”
“But I'm here.”
It's incredible how much these simple words mean to him.
Dan sometimes thinks he doesn't deserve this man.
They stay like that for a while. In their weird semi-sitting position, Phil's hand gently massaging Dan's scalp, grounding him, always knowing what Dan needs most and when he needs it. It's comfortable, until their backs begin to hurt, so they silently lay down and Dan steals a sleepy kiss in the process.
Phil would probably pick up on the unspoken parts of Dan's dream he decided to leave out. Maybe he already did and Dan will have to explain himself in the morning, or maybe Phil's giving him the benefit of the doubt, because dreams are rarely vivid enough to clearly remember them. Hell, maybe Dan will forget about it himself before he wakes up again.
But obscuring the truth from his partner of almost 16 years still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
“I love you.” Dan whispers into the quiet air, unsure of whether Phil is already asleep or not.
“Love you too.” Phil responds, his vowels slurring together a little, “And I'm here so stop worrying, because I can hear your thoughts.”
If Phil asks in the morning why Dan held him tighter than usual that night, Dan will blame it on the nightmare.
Phil deserves the whole truth, though.
And Dan…
Dan wants to give it to him.