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Phil had been sticking to water all night, but he still felt like the room was spinning. It was too hot and crowded, but a sentimental part of him didn’t want to leave early— it was their last BBC Christmas party, even though no one besides him and Dan knew that yet.
They were pushing through the crowded floor together, trying not to get separated. Not for the first time, Phil wished people wouldn’t make such a fuss if he grabbed Dan’s arm in public, even if it was just to stick together in a crowd. Instead, he had to keep stopping to look behind himself, checking that Dan was still within arm’s reach.
Dan had been stopped by a clump of people, so Phil backtracked slightly until they were standing next to each other again.
“You work and you live together?” someone had asked. “How have you not killed each other yet?”
Dan threw a glance behind him, beaming and radiant. “I did,” he said. He elbowed Phil in the ribs, the most physical contact they were willing to risk in such a crowded room. “I replaced this one with a clone who actually takes out the bins.”
“Oi!” Phil said, elbowing back. “I took out the bins this morning.”
“Just one of them,” Dan said. “You forgot the rest.”
Now that Phil thought about it, he didn’t remember what he had done after taking out the first bin. “Oh,” he said. “Oops.”
“You see what I have to live with here?” Dan asked the crowd at large.
“Hang in there,” a woman said sympathetically. “Living alone is expensive, but once you can afford it, it’s worth it.”
“Right,” Dan said, wavering. “Can’t wait.”
Phil pulled Dan away by the sleeve before anyone could notice how sad Dan suddenly looked, careful to avoid touching his skin. “Come on,” he said. “I’m hungry, let’s get more snacks.”
At the snack bar, by the edge of the room, it was just a bit quieter and less crowded. Phil filled a bowl with pretzels.
“I kind of want to leave,” Dan said, his dark brown eyes meeting Phil’s. “But I also don’t.”
“Same,” Phil said, though it almost went without saying that he was on the same page as Dan. “Maybe another 30 minutes?”
“I was thinking maybe an hour,” Dan said. “They haven’t even brought out the desserts yet, come on, Philly.” He directed his best puppy-dog gaze at Phil, silently pleading with him.
Phil rolled his eyes at the pet name, but before he could respond, someone behind them spoke. “You could go home separately, you know.” When Dan and Phil turned around to face her, she looked like she was trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you two apart.”
“Yeah, well, you mostly see us doing our job, so.” Dan sounded irritated. “We do loads of stuff separately.” Phil held back a wince at how defensive he sounded.
The woman raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink. “You’re not working now. So.”
“I wouldn’t abandon you like that, Dan,” Phil jumped in. “I know you hate going to these things alone.”
“This is why you’re my best friend,” Dan said, smiling, and Phil felt his stomach flip over. He smiled back, hoping he didn’t look as besotted as he felt.
The woman just shrugged and turned away. “Well, enjoy the party,” she said.
Dan and Phil settled against a nearby wall, taking advantage of the way the crowd thinned at the edges. Dan took a pretzel from Phil’s bowl without asking, or probably even thinking. “Hey,” Phil said, slapping his hand away. “Germs.”
Dan rolled his eyes. It was an inside joke that Phil loved because there was no way for Dan to call him out on it in public without admitting how he was already familiar with so many of Phil’s germs.
Phil’s eyes combed the crowd restlessly, looking for anyone he actually wanted to talk to, but he was slowly realizing that if there was anyone else who worked here who he actually liked, he couldn’t find them in the crowd.
“Maybe we should just go,” Dan said. “It’s been long enough that we can say we’ve been social.”
“But Dan, what about the desserts?” Phil teased.
“We can stop for ice cream on the way home,” Dan suggested.
“Ice cream?” Phil asked. “Dan, it’s like, 4 degrees out.”
“Fine,” Dan huffed. “Something warm, then.”
“I’ll call a car,” Phil decided. “We can walk to the bakery down the street.”
Outside, they slid into the back of the taxi, and Phil was struck with the absurd urge to fold all of his too-long limbs into the middle seat to be closer to Dan. He buckled his seatbelt instead.
Dan looked up to meet Phil’s gaze. “Home soon, yeah?” he said softly.
Phil’s chest hurt with how much he missed him.