Chapter Text
The tour was an absolute success. They’d gotten in from their flight just as the sun was rising in London, and promptly collapsed into Phil’s bed to sleep until the sun set that evening.
They didn’t leave the house for the rest of the month, very slowly washing all their clothes and remembering the layout of their apartment and settling back into their normal routine. They recorded and edited the Gamingmas videos together, did some live shows, and most importantly, enjoyed not being confined to a tour bus or cramped green rooms sharing one toilet with twenty people. They now had only each other to fight over using all the toilet roll and hot water.
Life is good.
Despite the weeks of recovery and finally being able to be out of each other’s hair, Dan finds himself gravitating toward Phil fractionally more than he had before they’d set off on TATINOF. They’ve always been glued at the hip, toxically codependent for most things life’s thrown their way, but now that Dan has the option – after more than a bloody year – to not knock his knees and elbows into Phil’s, he finds he kind of still wants to. He wants to be able to turn to the side and see Phil’s expression when they hear or tell a funny joke. He wants to be able to angle his phone slightly and show Phil the memes he finds on Twitter.
He even wants to be able to fall asleep with Phil’s cheek pressed between his shoulder blades.
Only their contractually bound crew had known that on the American leg of the tour, they’d shared the queen mattress at the back of the bus. As far as their audience knows, Phil had won the rights to it and Dan was forced to cram his 6 foot 3 obnoxiousness into a tiny bunk. Little to the world’s knowledge, the bus with the bedroom at the back had been cheaper and Dan and Phil really rather desperately did not want their first tour experience to be soiled because of spinal injuries. Let the people speculate. Dan and Phil want to spoon.
They’ve been best friends for seven years now. At the very beginning, they’d share a bed every time they got together. Dan called it making up for all the time lost in his childhood, never having experienced a proper sleepover with people he actually wanted to be around.
Dan would sleep in Phil’s bed in Manchester, and they’d frequently find themselves in each other’s arms when they moved in together a year later. And now, four years into living in London, at least twice a week finds them curled up in one of their beds together. They have their own spaces, sure, and respect each other’s boundaries, but truth be told they just prefer to be together than apart.
It’s nice. It’s always been nice, having someone like Phil whose shoulder or lap Dan can use as a warm pillow. Phil is a very tactile person, and Dan hadn’t realised how touch-starved he himself had been before meeting Phil and suddenly having his platonic intimacy needs met at all times.
And so, after the end of the tour and the chaos that had been Gamingmas and their respective family Christmases, Dan finds his cheek pressed against Phil’s thigh, enjoying his hand stroking Dan’s post-shower curls. They’re watching Drag Race in comfortable silence, laughing at the performers’ wit, gasping at the drama unfolding on the screen, and enjoying each other’s company.
Dan’s been thinking about some things for a while now. How he feels about certain things – and people. Well, person. One person in particular.
Dan loves Phil. He always has. They say it to each other all the time. Dan less frequently, of course, because of his general difficulty expressing emotions. But he’s never once doubted that what he feels for Phil in his heart is pure and absolute love. It was overwhelming at first, stifling. He thought he would combust under its intensity.
And he’d hidden from it. He’d blocked it off and refused to face it head on for years. When Phil said he loved him, he would smile tightly and say “me too” and mean it in a completely platonic way. For a while that lie was enough.
And then it stopped being a lie. Dan realised eventually he did love Phil. But the building tension behind the love had simmered down enough that he translated his feelings as platonic. And he felt better. He no longer felt he was hiding from himself or lying to Phil. He was able to say it with his full chest – “love you, bubby” – and mean it.
Until Dan learned what a honeymoon phase was.
The first few weeks and months into a new relationship, people feel over the moon with love. Nothing can bring them down. Nothing can satiate their need to be as close to their person as possible. Dan had delved online further than he should have into people’s testimonies about the intensity of their honeymoon phases.
And realised that’s what he had been in with Phil, but had run from it instead of embracing it and the meaning behind his true feelings. He still experienced the honeymoon phase, just with fear and apprehension instead of fucking Phil senseless every day.
He learned that eventually those intense feelings fade and a sense of comfort settles in. People no longer feel this insatiable need to bone at all hours of the day, establishing their routine and enjoying being together. Some people call it settling, some people say the love dies after a few months. Others simply call it finding contentment in the start of the rest of their lives.
It was early last year, right before they announced the tour, that Dan realised he might’ve fumbled things with Phil by not admitting to himself what it was he had been feeling six years ago. He’d brought it up in therapy, shaking and sweating and vomiting immediately after, but saying the words aloud to someone who was under oath not to repeat it, had been liberating. He’s not gay, he’s not in love with Phil or anything, but he would be stupid to deny that he feels a little more than purely platonic toward him. And it would be selfish to keep stringing Phil along knowing he’s been out to his family and closest friends since university.
He’d had a long talk with Phil, never admitting his feelings to his face, but asking if Phil was sure he wanted to commit to doing this tour. It would change their lives forever. It would permanently cement their branding as Dan-and-Phil. To Dan, it was a stronger commitment than marriage. Dan hoped Phil understood the question he was asking underneath everything.
Phil called Dan his YouTube husband with a toothy grin and for the first time in Dan’s life, he didn’t want to run away screaming.
Things were a little different between them in the months after that, and only partly because they spent fourteen hours every single day in meetings and rehearsals for the tour. They’d find themselves passed out in each other’s beds more often than not, less hesitant to hug throughout the day for no reason other than the impulsive desire to be closer.
Dan is sure the last year and a half of his life have been the absolute happiest. And only fractionally because of the astronomical success of their world tour.
He’s comfortable with Phil, past the honeymoon phase, into the stage known as the rest of their lives. And he’s so fucking happy with his best friend.
Phil is stroking his hair and they’re experiencing queer culture on the screen without fear of what it means to them. Dan isn’t sure which of them is enjoying it more. Phil, who’s had to publicly repress his sexuality for Dan’s sake; or Dan, who’s been hiding from himself his entire life due to immense trauma almost no one besides Phil knows about.
He’s still not ready to admit it to himself. His journey has really only just begun. And Dan had known the perfect first step toward authenticity.
“I love your natural hair,” Phil mumbles, twisting a curl around his finger. “Makes you look happier.”
“So you’re saying the emo fringe makes me look depressed? Thanks, Phil.”
Phil rolls his eyes and playfully slaps Dan’s shoulder. “You know what I mean. You look happier when you’re not trying to. You don’t have to do anything to your hair to make it look like this, and you laugh more genuinely when there’s no one else around. You laugh more when your hair is curly.”
“Wow, someone’s sappy tonight.” Dan’s cheeks burn as he stares up at the stubble on Phil’s jaw.
“Still got that post Christmas adrenaline, I s’pose,” Phil mutters, a bashful pink smile on his face. “Sorry, I’ll shut up.”
“I’m takin’ the piss, dingus.” Dan lifts an arm to stroke Phil’s black hair. He pushes it off his forehead into a quiff. “There, now we both have our looks for 2017.”
Phil pulls his head away from Dan’s fingers. “Very funny.”
Dan sits up and scoots forward on the sofa. He reaches out again and styles Phil’s fringe, fixes his part and tames the flyaways. “Seriously. You look good with a quiff.”
“But I like my emo fringe. It’s part of my branding.” Phil dramatically sticks out his bottom lip in a pout. Dan has the strangest urge to stroke his thumb over it.
“The fringe still looks good, I’m just saying when the time comes for the death of emo, a quiff should be your next move.”
“Emo will never die, Daniel, don’t say such things!” Phil throws his arms roughly around Dan and pulls them both to the couch. “Long live the emos!!”
“You’re fuckin’ squeezing the air outta my lungs, rat, get off!” Dan giggles as he extricates himself from Phil, lightly punching his arm and settling himself back down in his lap.
“I’ll consider it,” Phil says a few minutes later as the next episode begins.
“Wot.”
“The quiff.”
Dan gasps loudly.
“Don’t hold your breath, twat, I am hanging onto this fringe until someone rips it out of my cold, dead hands.”
Dan can’t pass it up. He reaches an arm up and makes a grab for Phil’s hair. Phil is quicker and snatches his wrist, holding it just out of reach of his glorious quiff.
“You’re hilarious,” he deadpans.
Dan gives him a cheeky upside down smile and tucks his hand under Phil’s thigh. “You love me.”
“Only because I am contractually obligated.”
Dan sticks his tongue out and they return their attention to the show.
Their schedules are miraculously clear the next day, and Dan stubbornly demands a sleepover in Phil’s room to celebrate. They order pizza and rosé and stay up way the fuck too late and get a little more than tipsy and soon can’t even remember which Marvel movie this is.
“Now is this before or after the Thor one we went to the premiere?”
Dan squints at Phil, trying to decipher his words. “This one just came out this year, ya dingus. We went to Thor Dark World two years ago. Obviously this one is after.”
“So where the fuck is Thor?”
“I dunno, banging Christopher Eccleston or something.”
“The fuck does the Doctor have to do with Thor Dark World?”
“He played the bad guy! He was the, the…” Dan waves his hands in the air, trying desperately to remember anything about Thor: The Dark World. He hated that movie. “Malekith!”
“Why the fuck do you remember his name?”
“Your mum.” Dan leans in Phil’s direction. Phil makes a “weugh” noise and meets Dan in the middle. Their noses brush and Dan collapses into a giggling fit.
He burrows into Phil’s side and digs his bony limbs into his flesh.
“Ow, you’re sharp, fuck off!” Phil complains.
“No, let me love you.” Dan grips him tighter and throws a leg over his thighs to hold him in place.
Eventually Phil relents and pouts. “I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah, now shut up. Ant Man’s about to do something. Probably.”
He can hear Phil roll his eyes before resting his cheek atop Dan’s curls. His lips find Dan’s hairline for the briefest of kisses and Dan’s stomach swoops. He makes a needy noise and snuggles closer.
Dan doesn’t remember falling asleep, but wakes several hours later to Phil’s dead laptop and a half finished box of cold pizza at his feet. His feet, which are wrapped firmly around Phil’s. Dan’s definitely still drunk and uses that excuse as to why the urge to kiss his beautiful sleeping face arises. He has half a mind to act on that urge, but another to do the responsible thing and not assault his flatmate in his sleep.
He quietly untangles himself from Phil, plugs in his laptop, and takes the pizza to the fridge. He rinses out the empty wine bottle and takes it and the rest of the recycling down to the bin. It’s early enough in the day that almost no one else is out there, and Dan takes a moment to enjoy the relatively peaceful streets of London. Only one moment, though. He’s not drunk enough to willingly be outside for longer than that. He’s not some sadist.
He dredges back up the Everest that is their stairs, makes a brief stop to the toilet, and grabs a glass of water from the kitchen. While it’s harder for Dan to get drunk than it is for Phil, Dan’s hangovers are always worse. He doesn’t remember drinking any water at all yesterday, and preemptively dreads how he’ll feel when he wakes up for real in a few hours.
He chugs a second glass and returns to Phil’s room. He briefly considers retiring to his own bed, giving Phil his space back, but chuckles remembering he was the one who demanded this night of cuddles. It would just be silly to bail now. Especially with Phil looking so damn cute in his sleep. His mouth is hanging open and his snores are shaking the entire house, and Dan has never loved him more. He simply pops in some earplugs and slots his back against Phil’s chest. Phil’s arms wind around his waist and he snores right into Dan’s ear.
Perfect.
“I will kill you and your family and wear your bones atop my head as my crown of victory, you abominable cunt – FUCK!!!”
Dan stands up and throws his controller onto the couch. Phil’s blue shell hits him an inch in front of the finish line and Phil speeds past, stealing first place at the last possible second.
“YES!! Philly is victorious!!!” Phil jumps up and down and squeals as Dan begins bashing him with the throw pillow. “Ah!! Abuse!!”
“I was in first the whole fucking time and you get a blue shell in second?! What the fuck kind of fucking bullshit is that!!”
“Looks like you have to answer the door for a whole week now, Danneh!”
Dan’s eyes go wide. He’d forgotten about their trash talking from twenty minutes ago. The bet he was so sure he’d win. “No,” he stage whispers. “No, please.”
“You have to.” Phil crosses his arms over his chest. “We shook on it.”
“Nooooo,” Dan wails, falling to his knees and collapsing to the floor. “I will fucking kill myself before I speak to the postman.” He curls up into a ball and pretends to sob.
“Soz, hope you die.” Phil merrily skips around him and disappears into the hallway.
Dan rolls onto his back and stares daggers into the ceiling. He fucking hates making bets with Phil. 80% of the time he only makes them because he’s feeling cocky, and 100% of those times, he loses spectacularly. He is sure he will never forgive Phil for this absolute betrayal.
“Hey, do you wanna film a Sims video?” Phil asks, poking his head around the corner.
“Sure.” Dan jumps up and they go upstairs to do just that.
After, Dan stays sat at the computer to edit the footage and Phil sits behind him on his laptop watching YouTube with headphones.
Dan loves days like this. They start off playing games off camera, then spend some time playing for a video, and then continue occupying the same space while one of them edits said video. Don’t get him wrong, there are some days that recording a video and then still being around Phil after feels unspeakable. There are days he does not want to leave his room whatsoever. Thankfully, it’s been a little while since those kinds of preferences were present. He can’t get enough of Phil these days.
At one point, when all that’s left is to add in a few extra links to the video, Dan turns round to face Phil and give his eyes a break. Phil’s gaze flicks up for half a second before he lifts his laptop into the air. Dan settles his feet on his thighs, and Phil sets the computer on his shins. Dan leans his head back in his chair and sighs in relief.
“Do we know each other too well?” he mumbles. Phil, headphones still on, does not respond. Dan just smiles but doesn’t repeat it. He knows the answer. He’s happy with it.
Eventually, he turns back to finish up the video and they get it posted before retreating to the lounge to watch more Drag Race.
This time Phil’s head is in Dan’s lap, and Dan is curled round his back, arms over the side of his waist, head resting on his hands. Dan loves when they use each other as pillows simultaneously. It’s the most natural thing in the world to be wrapped up with Phil like this.
Phil’s phone starts buzzing with a call and he groans, apparently having fallen asleep. He doesn’t pick it up, and they return to their silence. After a moment, it buzzes again.
“Someone wants you,” Dan points out.
“Someone can fuck off.”
“Philip.”
Phil makes a whiny mocking sound and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He stands and Dan’s face hits the couch.
“Rude.”
“Hi, mum.”
Dan sits up as Phil starts to pace the room like he always does on phone calls. Dan pauses the show and gets out his own phone to distract himself from eavesdropping. If it was something important, Phil would leave for privacy, but he must not care if Dan’s within earshot.
“Yeah, he’s here.” Phil turns around to address Dan. “My mum says hi.”
Dan smiles. “Hi, Kath!”
Phil returns his attention to the call and Dan tunes out his voice until it gets louder, Phil apparently wanting Dan to hear. “On the third? Yeah, lemme talk it over with him and I’ll call you back in a minute. Love you, too, mum, bye.”
Dan locks his phone and looks up expectantly as Phil returns to his side and throws his arm across the back of the sofa.
“Her and dad have a meeting in London on the fourth and asked if they can stay here the night before and after.”
“Sure, don’t think we have anything, lemme look.” Dan checks his calendar, and sees a delightfully blank schedule for at least the next week. He turns back to Phil and pockets his device. “Looks like this is gonna be a Lester-infested household in a few days.”
Phil just giggles and pecks Dan’s temple. “Lemme call her back!”
Dan smiles, his forehead blooming with warmth where Phil’s lips touched him. Phil does that sometimes, kisses Dan when he’s happy about something. He does it just because he wants to, Dan knows. It doesn’t have to mean anything.
Although, Dan wouldn’t mind if it did.
Phil calls Kath back and affirms their stay at hotel Dan and Phil. Dan giggles and once the call ends, they get to work cleaning up the place. It’s New Year’s Eve, so they’ve still got a few days to prepare their residence for visitors, but one of their resolutions is to stop being so shit at planning ahead. So clean they do.
They split the tasks, Dan tackling dishes while Phil starts the laundry and hoovers the floors. They expertly avoid tripping over each other as Dan dusts down the baseboards. They strip the sheets off Phil’s bed for his parents to sleep in, when Dan has a thought that makes his heart sink.
“Would they… find it weird if we both slept in my bed?”
Phil looks up at him with a tilted head. “I mean… no, I don’t think so. We’ve shared a bed before.”
“Yeah, but that was…” Dan bites his lip. He doesn’t know why it feels so different to sleep next to Phil now compared to when he was eighteen.
“Do you not want to…?”
Dan starts assuring that yes, he definitely wants to still share a bed. But then he thinks about what it might look like to Phil’s parents. For the first time since the start of the tour, Dan is scared to sleep next to his best friend. None of their crew asked any questions, but Phil’s parents aren’t under contract. They can ask all the questions they want, and it’ll be Dan’s responsibility to lie to them. He can’t look Kathryn Lester in the face and tell her a bold-faced lie.
All he can do is shake his head and turn away before he cries. He realises how stupid it’s been sharing a bed with Phil. He feels like he’s been taking advantage of his kindness and tactile nature. He’s been leaching his heat and giving nothing back.
Warm arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into a hug. He sniffles.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We don’t have to share your room. It’s no big deal.”
“It is,” Dan says, voice muffled against Phil’s shirt.
“It doesn’t have to be. Either we tell them the truth, that we got used to it on tour and it’s just nice, or I’ll go up and sleep on the sofa bed. I really don’t care.”
Dan grips Phil tightly, digging his nose into his collarbone. “Would they think we’re… together? If we said we shared a bed for months and still do it?”
Phil thinks about that and sighs. Dan hates that he sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe? But they know us. They know we’re friends and that we’re attached at the hip. They never asked questions when I first started bringing you round, and I don’t think they’re going to now. They’re good like that.”
“It’s been seven years, Phil. If they don’t already assume we’re fucking, they’re going to when we say we literally sleep together.”
Phil makes a strange noise at Dan’s bluntness. His next words are low and careful. “Can I ask you a question?”
Dan’s heart picks up. “What?”
“Would it be so terrible if they thought that?”
Dan stiffens. In his wildest dreams, he and Phil are happy together, living in a big house with a dog and never feel afraid to hold hands and kiss in public and don’t have a single fuck to give about who sees them. But he is not living his dream. He was bullied and harassed and assaulted every fucking day of his childhood, called awful things and driven to the darkest place imaginable because of it. He cannot bear to think of reverting to the pain and fear he felt in those days, even if it is Phil’s lovely accepting family assuming something about him that is, in their eyes, harmless.
Dan wishes it was that simple. He even wishes one of them was a woman, then it wouldn’t be so scandalous to assume they’re a couple. But being with Phil, loving Phil, sleeping with Phil. It all carries a much different torch and reason for explanation than Dan will ever feel ready to give.
“It might.” It’s the wrong thing to say. He could’ve taken a few more seconds to think up something more eloquent. But it’s brutally honest, and that’s what he feels they both deserve right now.
Phil drops his arms and Dan wants to scream at the loss of contact. Dan can’t look into his face. He’s terrified of the disappointment, the heartbreak, the anger he’d see there.
“It’s not you, Phil. It’s me. It’s always me. I just can’t –” I can’t be seen in that light. Not again. “I’m not… ready.”
He hopes that particular wording will be enough to lighten the blow to Phil’s heart.
Phil is quiet for a long time, standing so close Dan can feel his breath on his cheek. Something brushes the back of Dan’s hand.
“Okay.” It’s so gentle. So kind. It’s everything that makes up the beautiful human that is Phil Lester.
“I’m sorry.” Tears run down Dan’s cheeks and he shrinks in on himself, wishing to disappear from the memories flooding his mind. All the insults, the sneers, the punches, the slurs. His ribs ache from all the times they cracked under the boots of the boys at school.
Phil touches his hand again. “Come here.”
Dan collapses back against him hard, squeezing the air from his lungs. Phil holds him just as tightly, running a gentle hand through his wavy hair.
“I’m sorry,” Dan croaks again, not entirely sure what he’s apologising for.
“Don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong.”
Dan’s not sure that’s true. He’s sure there’s plenty he’s done wrong. He’s sure he’s broken Phil’s heart time and time again by never acting on the feelings burning a hole in the centre of his chest. He’s sure it hurts every time Dan leans on him or hugs him or crawls into his bed with no more to offer than his temporary body heat.
“Why haven’t you ever dated anyone?” Dan can’t believe the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.
“What?”
Dan squeezes tighter. “The whole time I’ve known you, you’ve never dated anyone. Why? You said you dated loads at university. Why did that stop once you met me?”
Phil takes a long time to respond. His hand slows its petting in Dan’s hair as he thinks up what to say. “I guess I never needed anyone else. You’re my best friend. I don’t wanna bring someone else around to steal my attention from you.”
“So you’ve been lonely because I’m a needy piece of shit?”
“Dan, don’t say that. Look at me.”
“I can’t.”
Phil sighs. Dan feels him drop a kiss to his hair. “I love you, always have. And the life I have with you is more than enough for me. I don’t need anything else as long as I’ve got your friendship.”
“What about when it stops being enough? What about when you need more and I can’t give it to you?”
“There’s nothing I need that you can’t give me. You love me, too, right? I’m your best friend just like you’re mine?”
Dan’s face burns. He nods.
“Then that’s enough. Hey.” He finally pulls away and makes Dan look at him. His eyes are kind, certain. “You are enough.”
Dan looks away, more tears spilling down his face. “It won’t last.”
“Seven years is a long time for someone to choose to be miserable. But I’m not miserable. You make me happy, Dan.” He strokes the side of Dan’s face in a way that can only be described as loving.
Dan is torn between hating it and needing more. He grips Phil’s hand with both of his and holds it against his cheek. He feels like a needy child but cares less and less with every tear that falls.
“Are you waiting for it to change?”
“No.” Phil’s never sounded so sure. “I am so happy. I want to see life with you. I want to laugh with you and make videos with you and go on more tours and watch every season of Drag Race in every country in the world with you.”
“You shouldn’t put your life on indefinite pause just because I’m not ready for forever.”
“We’re already doing forever, Dan.” Phil’s smile melts the ice around Dan’s heart. “Doesn’t matter what we call ourselves. Best friends, coworkers, collaborators, soulmates, thorn in each other’s side, who cares. We’re doing life together. That is enough for me.”
Dan hates that he believes every word out of Phil’s mouth. He hates how his heart swells with fondness. He wants to bite back. He wants to scream at Phil and call him stupid and selfless and perfect and beautiful and everything Dan needs, too. He wants to fucking kiss him. But he can’t.
He can’t.
All he can do is thump his forehead against Phil’s shoulder and sob. Phil holds him, whispering reassurances like the fucking saint he is. Dan still wants to scream at him. Tell him to just fuck off and stop being a twat and go start his own fucking life with someone who actually deserves him. He deserves to be normal.
But Dan’s heart has always been a little hopeless. He trusts Phil more than he trusts himself. He knows Phil doesn’t lie to him. And he knows he wouldn’t start now. Not with this.
He believes Phil. He does something completely fucking stupid and believes every goddamn word out of his mouth.
Phil loves him just as he is. He’s happy. He thinks Dan is enough.
Dan pulls away and takes a deep breath, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Would you mind taking the sofa bed?”
“Not a bit.”
Dan wants to apologise, but just nods, eyes trained on the floor. He feels like an exposed nerve, like a child being scolded. He’s neither of those things, but emotions and Dan do not mix well.
“Are you gonna be okay?”
“I can sleep on my own, Phil, I’m fucking 25 years old.”
Phil chuckles. He brushes his knuckles against Dan’s. “Not about that.”
Dan knows. “Eventually,” he mutters.
“Okay.” Phil runs a hand down Dan’s arm. “Sorry for making you upset.”
“You didn’t. It’s my fault.”
“It’s not. It’s not your fault this is hard for you. Please don’t ever think that.”
Dan doesn’t. Deep down, he’s never genuinely blamed himself for the actions of others. Sometimes he just forgets.
He nods and turns back to dusting.
Later, Dan helps Phil put the washed sheets back on his bed, but otherwise keeps to himself the rest of the night. He’s still a little raw after his breakdown where he all but admitted to having feelings for Phil. He truly doesn’t know what Phil thinks about everything he’d said. Maybe he’s always known and the possibility of being with Dan has been his ultimate futile goal. Maybe he’s completely caught off guard.
Dan’s head pounds and he would really like to stop thinking. He checks the time on his phone and sees it’s fifteen minutes to midnight. He and Phil hadn’t made plans, still in recovery mode from tour and their ridiculous uploading schedule, so it’s just the two of them tonight to hear the fireworks.
Dan changes into his softest pyjamas and pads into the kitchen to find Phil pouring two glasses of rosé. He’s also got his pyjamas on.
“Hi!” he says brightly, turning as Dan rounds the corner. “Was just about to come get you. Almost midnight!”
Dan can’t help but smile a bit at the giddy look on his face. He takes one of the glasses and Phil takes the other. “Happy New Year, Phil.”
“Not yet, not yet!” Phil scolds, slapping his shoulder with a giggle. They cheers anyway and go out to the lounge. Phil pulls up the livestream on the tv as Dan gets comfortable in his sofa crease. They watch the performers in silence for a few minutes.
“Highlight of the year,” Dan says softly.
“Tour,” Phil says, turning his body to face Dan.
“Obviously. Something smaller.” Dan smiles and leans his head against the back cushion.
“I liked Undertale. That was good this year.”
“It was. Impossible Quiz has been fucking infuriating, but I’ve enjoyed it.”
“Definitely.” Phil’s cheeks are dusted a light pink and he hasn’t even drunk any rosé yet. “Something not YouTube or work.”
Dan thinks for a moment. “I like that we got back and still share a bed. Four years of sporadic sleepovers, then four months of it in a row and we’ve changed our entire routine.”
Phil’s smile splits his face. He chuckles low in his chest and it sends butterflies throughout Dan’s stomach. “I love that you’ve started wearing your hair natural more. It’s been so nice seeing your true self starting to shine through more and more. You’ve become more confident this year and it’s been a true honour to get to see that.”
Dan turns away, tucking his face in his shoulder. He feels more tears burn his eyes, and he sucks in a breath to keep them at bay.
“Was that too much?” Dan can hear the smile still in Phil’s voice.
He shakes his head, biting down on his shirt sleeve to hold back his tears. He fails and scrubs them away. “God.”
“Come here.”
Phil pulls Dan into a crushing hug. “You’re crying too much today.” His tone is gentle. “It’s supposed to be happy new year.”
“I am happy,” Dan croaks. “I’m so fucking happy, Phil. You make me so happy. I’m just bad at it.”
“You’re not bad at being happy, Dan.”
“I am, but thanks anyway.”
Phil coos and rocks them back and forth. The countdown on the tv starts and he pulls away to look Dan in the eye. His face is kind as always, beautiful as ever. He brushes his nose against Dan’s and turns to the screen across the room.
Dan tucks his head into the crook of his neck and turns too.
“3! 2! 1!”
Fireworks explode outside, shaking the entire building. Phil squeezes Dan’s shoulder. They reach out for their glasses and clink them together.
“Happy New Year, Dan.”
“Happy New Year, Phil.”
They drain their wine before dropping their heads back against the couch and sharing a smile.
Phil breaks the silence. “Resolutions, go.”
Dan groans. “Yeah, I’m gonna go to the gym twice a day, I’m gonna open a yoga studio, I’m gonna end world hunger –”
Phil rolls his eyes and slaps his arm.
“I wanna change my username.”
“Oh?”
Dan nods. “Been thinking about it for a bit. Kinda feel like ‘danisnotonfire’ is a little old by now.”
“What do you wanna change it to?”
“I think just my name. Daniel Howell.”
“Full name, huh? Sounds very professional.”
Dan shrugs, blushing. “I’d like people to start taking me seriously. It makes me want to remove my fucking teeth every time a news article publishes something about ‘Dan - Is - Not - On - Fire’. Or god fucking forbid ‘dani snot on fire’.”
Phil snorts. “Yeah, maybe it’s for the best.”
“Plus, if I ever write another book, I think Daniel Howell sounds more like an author.”
“Yeah. Very grown up.”
Dan pushes at his shoulder. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious!” Phil grins, his tongue poking between his teeth. “You’ve got a bright future ahead of you and I can’t wait to see it.”
Dan’s throat tightens remembering their talk earlier. How Phil is happy with his life. How Dan worried it might stop being enough because Dan can’t be everything Phil needs. How Phil assured him he is.
He clears his throat. “What about you? What’re your resolutions for 2017?”
“I wanna move outta this place.”
Dan’s blood goes cold. “Oh.”
Phil’s face falls. Then he pierces the quiet with a cackle. “With you, ya dummy! I wanna move outta this place and into somewhere better with you!”
Dan goes through every stage of grief in half a second. He joins in Phil’s laughter, relief flooding his anxious brain. “Christ, that would’ve been the worst way for you to break up with me.”
Phil grips his knee and squeezes. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Danny boy!”
They fall against each other as their laughter subsides. Dan’s head is in Phil’s lap and Phil’s cheek rests against his hip.
“Where do you wanna go?” Dan asks.
“We’ll stay in London, I reckon. Just somewhere bigger and without the gas leak and crumbling ceiling.”
“God, we gotta get outta this place before it kills us.”
Phil hums, stroking a finger through the soft fabric of Dan’s pyjamas. “It’s been good to us, though.”
“Good mems.”
“Lots of stalking, though.”
Dan groans. “No one can know where we go next.”
“No filming out the windows or on the street outside.”
Dan holds out his pinky and Phil wraps his own around it. “Are we gonna start looking soon?”
“Figured after the new year.”
“It’s the new year, Phil.”
“Shh, if I haven’t fallen asleep yet it’s still yesterday.”
Dan rolls his eyes and tucks himself closer. “What time are your parents getting here on Sunday?”
“Dunno,” Phil says with a yawn. “I’ll call them tomorrow.”
“Are you sleeping with me tonight?”
Phil looks over at him. “Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” Dan says instantly.
“Then yes.”
“At least until they get here.” Dan blushes and looks away.
Phil strokes his cheek. “Dan.”
Dan looks up.
“It’s okay. I promise.”
Dan nods and moves to sit up. Phil curls around his middle and squeezes.
“Fuckin’ koala, you are,” Dan says, looking down and running a hand through Phil’s hair. “Come on, spork.”
He stands and stretches, turning off the tv and grabbing their glasses and the bottle of wine. He takes everything to the kitchen, recorking the bottle and putting it in the fridge. When he closes the door there’s Phil, grinning sleepily at him. Dan flips off the light and gathers him up in a tight hug.
“Hi,” Phil whispers.
“Hi.”
“Alright?”
Dan hums. “I think so.”
They brush their teeth side by side downstairs, then tumble into Dan’s bed after shutting off the rest of the lights. Phil doesn’t hesitate to pull Dan against his chest, and Dan breathes in the scent of his neck.
“Phil?”
Phil hums, already half asleep.
“Are you sure this is okay?”
“What?”
“This. Sleeping together. Even if I’m…” He doesn’t know exactly what he wants to say, which word he’d select from the plethora of adjectives to describe Dan Howell. Repressed. Depressed. Scared. Cowardly. A liar. Broken.
“It’s more than okay, Dan. Like I said, you’re my best friend. You’ll always be my best friend. You letting me smother you with cuddles is a very happy bonus.” He accentuates with a kiss to the top of Dan’s head.
“But this isn’t, like… normal, right? For most guys to sleep together and cuddle and kiss each other and say ‘I love you’ and shit?”
“I don’t wanna be normal.”
He says nothing more and before long his snores buzz Dan’s cheek. Dan doesn’t know what the fuck he did in a previous life to deserve Phil in this one, but decides maybe it’s time to stop being such a fucking coward.
That’s his new year's resolution.