Chapter Text
Standing surrounded by cement blocks and a half-built floor, Dan and Phil try to not breathe too much. The dust is all-encompassing, caking their skin, and fluttering in the beams of sunlight that the windows let in. Even with their N-95's, they feel short of breath.
Their architect, Ron, decked with his own mask, chats with the foreman, a burly guy with a distinct Irish accent named Seamus, who seems completely comfortable with the environment, his own mask slung around his neck.
Today, they're deciding the final positions of major plumbing sites and electric sockets. They're two months behind schedule, due to some issues with the roofing, but finally, they are able to see the vague form of their house…their forever home.
The two of them stare at different areas in silence, a little awkward in the middle of what will become their kitchen. Right now, only tape and marks exist, forming the shape of counters, cabinets, provisions for furniture.
Dan turns his head to Phil who is considering the window that sits above their counters. Or at least, where their counters will be, eventually. Phil meets his gaze after a few moments, eyes crinkling. His mouth is covered by his mask but Dan is familiar with what his face looks like when he smiles. Dan crinkles back.
"Alright, lads?" Ron is suddenly in front of them, unknowingly interrupting a moment.
"Uh," Phil says, jumping a bit.
Ron has a clipboard in his hand and he reports, "Everything looks good. The damage from the recent rain has been fixed and they reinforced it well. Shouldn't be a problem now. Plumbing structure is 80% finished, just have to connect the main piping to the bathrooms and the kitchens, so have we decided on the counter for the sink?"
They walk over to the other end of the room, stepping around the tiles piled in stacks scattered around them.
"Right here is good?" Dan asks, gesturing to the spot.
Phil coughs, the air delivering dust to scratch his throat.
"Yeah. We have enough to get it there. I'm assuming you want a built-in sink so you have some storage underneath, not a stand alone, yeah?"
Before they can answer, Phil coughs again, throat burning. "Sorry. Need some air."
Dan looks worried, but he waves him off, silently telling him to continue. They have already agreed on the rough idea of the kitchen and Dan can handle the specifics by himself.
Phil walks outside, finally breathing in dustless air. He takes off his mask, shaking it a bit, and watching the dust fall into the grass. This will be where their garden will live one day, something they have never had before, a green space outdoors where they can hang out and be surrounded by plants.
He rubs at his eyes, getting rid of the little specks of dust in the crevices. He is tired of reviewing surfaces, of looking at Pinterest boards that Dan magically keeps creating, and of making sense of the mazes of plumbing and electricity and roofing. He is so tired, but he also can't help this feeling of lift in his chest, a flutter of wings in the place of his stomach. After so long of living in apartments and having to abide by someone else's rules, being conscious of being too loud, being ignored when they complain about broken appliances, but more importantly, never feeling settled in flooring they couldn't change and furniture they only bought because it was what fit; they are so close to having their own place. Somewhere that's truly theirs.
There's nowhere to sit so Phil paces around, avoiding the big window where he can hear drilling, the builders working on the lounge. There is a tall ugly fence shielding him from the rest of the neighborhood, mostly for keeping the noise down, because the space is supposed to be open air eventually. Today, it stands, casting shade on the backyard, giving him a bit of privacy.
Not long after, the door creaks behind him and Dan emerges, pulling down his mask to his chest and coughing. "You think you can die of dust inhalation?"
Phil laughs. "I'm supposed to be the one freaking out about health. Don't take that from me."
"You okay?" Dan says, standing beside him, both of them facing the fence now. "Your head…?"
Phil shakes his head. "No migraine. The air there is just filling my lungs with dust. Do I need to go back in there?"
"Not really, there's not much we can do until they finish building the floors and start on the built-in cabinets." Dan says,"Oh, speaking of. Had a talk about the cabinets with Ron and he feels confident that we can do the circular design we liked."
Phil rolls his eyes. "You liked it. I wanted that cool glittery marble."
"You are always hitting the corners of our current island with your Shakira hips!" Dan argues, "You should actually be thanking me, for being so considerate to think of your well-being. With the curved design, you'll never have to worry again."
Phil laughs and Dan laughs alongside him, stupid with joy. The concept of never having to adjust their behavior for structures others have built has him giddy. He was never one for following rules, would much rather make his own.
"Thank you so much, Daniel, you are so kind and considerate to think of the health of my clumsy hips. I will forever be grateful."
The concept of forever has him feeling crazy. Forever home. Forever and ever and ever.
Dan smiles at him, glancing behind him, then takes his hand. "Yeah? You need to give me a thank you gift, I reckon."
Phil, still high from his thoughts of the home they're building together, doesn't say anything before he presses a kiss to Dan's cheek. When he pulls back, Dan is quick to use his free hand to pull him forward by his neck, kissing him fully. Their lips move softly, exchanging warmth and comfort. Dan tastes a tiny bit saltier than usual, sweaty from the poor ventilation inside.
Usually, they don't do this. PDA was never an option for them because of all the attention, all the zeroed in stares dedicated to dissecting each interaction between them. Here, standing on the cement foundation of their future home, they feel safe. Dan likely made sure that they wouldn't be followed outside and no one can look into the property, the house positioned in such a way that the garden area was fairly private, even in the future where there won't be a large fence in the way.
Phil smiles and feels a grin pressed against his own. He feels bubbling delight in his stomach, thinking about all the days in the future they can do this exact same thing in every room of the house. Today, the garden, but the garden isn't even a garden yet. He'll have to kiss Dan again when there's finally a garden here. Maybe a couple more times just to be safe.
They stand there, tucked away from others like countless moments before, holding each other for a bit, pressing soft kisses to each other and exchanging grins. All they need is each other. Phil feels like he could do anything in this moment.
Cat and bear save the world.
"Is that enough?" Phil says, pulling away just enough to speak softly. "Do you feel sufficiently thanked?"
"No, actually. I think I want pizza too when we get out of here," Dan says, pressing one last peck to his partner's nose.
"Okay, fine, that can be arranged," Phil teases, knowing full well that they were planning on getting food delivered anyway.
Dan smiles, soft and dimply, and Phil loves him. This is the man he has built a life alongside and this is the man he will share a home with forever. Forever!
Here is a magical moment, he thinks, a significant step in one of the most exciting journeys they've ever been on. There have been a lot of journeys over their 10-year relationship, but this one is fully theirs, away from watchful eyes.
"I think we need to go furniture shopping," Dan says. "Maybe tomorrow so it's not as crowded."
"Oh, we can go to Ikea first?" Phil suggests, smirking.
Dan stares at him, unamused. "We already agreed we're done with Ikea, Phil."
The argument continues and Phil thinks that this is a day he won't forget for a long time.
Dan and Phil only have a couple months left on their lease, so it's time to have the conversation.
"Stop calling it that," Phil chides from where he's sitting at the couch. "You're stressing me out."
Dan walks back and forth, flinging his arms out. "You're supposed to be stressed! It's a stressful situation!"
Phil reaches out, trying to catch his hand, but can't quite reach it. Well, maybe if he stood up he could, but that would take so much energy. Instead, he keeps his arms out and makes grabby motions at his anxious boyfriend, who acquiesces and goes to stand in front of him. Phil wraps his arms around his lower back, stroking his skin underneath his shirt.
"We're deciding if we're renewing our lease, Dan." Phil is using his gentle voice. "We're not bringing about the end of the world."
Dan rolls his eyes above him. "Okay, but if we don't renew, then we're stuck downstairs for like six months. But then renewing means we're paying for three homes, all at once! But if we don't—"
Phil pulls him down to sit beside him on the couch, lifting both legs and placing them on his lap. He takes a socked foot into both hands and presses hard on the heel. Dan went on a run this morning and Phil knows that his heels are aching right now. He gently rubs his partner's foot, shutting him up for now.
"Let's take it one step at a time." Phil says, "Do we have enough space downstairs to live there for six months?"
Dan hums, eyes closed. "It'll be a tight fit. But. If we promise not to try to kill each other, I think we can do it."
"So that's a maybe."
"It's an "Ugh, I guess." Ow, no, don't stop. That's a good spot."
Phil snickers, but continues pressing at the arch of his foot.
"Pervert! Not like that."
"I agree, by the way."
Dan opens his eyes, furrowing his brow. "That you're a pervert? I mean, yeah—"
"Shut up. You know that's not what I meant." Phil says, "I meant that we can survive downstairs. It's not like you need a set anymore."
"Oi. Low blow."
It's really not and Phil knows that. Dan hasn't uploaded in months now. And because Phil can't help it, he keeps speaking.
"Former Youtube star Dan Howell downgrades due to career shift," Phil says, words enunciated in his best impression of a news reporter. "Paparazzi has sent in images of the Youtuber, best known for videos such as Hello, Internet and—"
Dan then sits up, covering his mouth. "Shut up! That is an insult to my career, Phil Lester!"
Phil is laughing as Dan crawls on top of him, restraining him from getting up. He's still trying to continue the bit, a muffled "characterized by his love for llamas" getting out before he gives up. Dan's body is fully on top of him, chest to chest, faces close to each other.
"You are the worst person I know," Dan proclaims, but he has the fondest look in his eyes.
Phil is grinning when Dan pulls his hands from his mouth, now that his reporter joke is finished. Phil's eyes trace his face, the light from a nearby lamp giving him a warm glow. He has a pout on his face and, not to be hyperbolic, but it's the most adorable pout Phil's ever seen. It's not in his power to resist lifting his neck up to press his lips against Dan's. It's over quickly because Phil overestimated the strength of his neck, flopping back down on the couch when it starts aching.
"What was that for?" Dan asks, scooting closer.
"You're cute," Phil replies simply.
Dan rolls his eyes, nosing at Phil's chin. "You say that to all the cute boys."
"No, just the one I want to build a home with." Phil smiles down at him. "And if that takes living in an apartment the size of a studio apartment for a few months, it seems pretty worth it to me."
Dan looks taken aback, mouth open, but no words come out. Phil reaches a hand out and wraps a stray curl around his finger, reveling in the softness he finds. Dan sometimes has trouble accepting genuine expressions of commitment and Phil has learned to let it sit for a few moments. This seems to be the right reaction because after a few moments, Dan surges upward, pressing kisses to his chin, his right cheek, the side of his nose.
"Phil…" He whispers, finding his partner's hand and tangling their fingers together over Phil's chest. "Me too. It will always be worth it."
"So the alternative, keeping both apartments?" Phil asks, nuzzling into Dan.
"No. It doesn't seem practical. Also, I want our savings to go to our future, not just a temporary comfort."
"I dunno. I did see one of those Gacha machines for sale…It costs less than a third of our rent here."
"Phil Lester, I'll kill you!"
When Dan lunges this time, Phil just laughs and laughs. The words echo in his brain, building a home, our future…There's a joy that the words bring, a light in his chest that reminds him that soon, a new chapter will begin. No, maybe it's a completely different book in the series. If previously, they were frequent guest stars in each other's books, books that would sit side by side in every shelf in the universe, soon they will share a single book, each chapter theirs collaboratively. Belonging to each other as much as it belonged to themselves.
When Dan gets up to find his laptop, he leaves then returns to sit right beside Phil, their shoulders pressing together from how close they are. Phil absentmindedly daydreams until he recognizes a familiar website at the corner of his eye. Dan is clicking through his Pinterest boards, neatly organized and labeled, until he finds the one full of different types of wood, Japanese-style configurations, and countless photos of warm lamps on dark walls.
Phil realizes he doesn't know what the main board is even named. Sure, he's contributed to "Flooring ideas" and "Garden inspo," but they fall under a parent board to contain them all. Curious, Phil glances at the screen as Dan adds a unique planter to "Lounge Furniture" and sees "D&P's Future Home 🖤💙." His breath catches at the sight, but Dan is oblivious, adding another color palette to "Indoor Colors."
"How many boards do you even have?" Phil asks, actually curious now.
"Huh?" Dan turns his head to the left. "I thought you were asleep. What did you say?"
"How many Pinterest boards are in D&P's Future Home black heart blue heart, Danny?"
Dan's cheeks go pink as he realizes that Phil has acknowledged the board name for the first time. "I think…34 when I last checked."
Phil is laughing before he finishes his sentence and Dan joins him, their joy brightening up an apartment that will soon be someone else's. Phil hopes the next tenants treat it well, fills it with as much laughter as they did, but somehow, he knows it's a wish close to impossible.
The lighting at the furniture store takes a few minutes to get used to, but Phil spots something familiar right away. He leaves Dan who was staring at some large mirrors to approach a nearby shelving unit.
"This looks exactly like our old LACK from Ikea," Phil remarks, lifting the price tag. "Except thrice the price!? Dan, I don't think we belong here."
"That is just not true." Dan joins him beside the shelves, knocking at the surface. "Hear that? That's real wood, not particleboard that's made to be thrown out after a couple years."
"Still too expensive for shelves." Phil argues.
"I actually agree," Dan says. "I want pine. Or mahogany."
"What's this then?"
"Ash." Dan answers, "Which I think would be okay for floating shelves but I'd rather have heavier wood for our main shelves. Pine maybe. Anyway, that unit is too expensive for just being ash."
"When did you become such an expert on wood?" Phil wags his eyebrows.
"October 2009 was when I started taking it seriously, I think," Dan teases back.
They probably would have continued their banter if a loud cry didn't interrupt them. They turn their heads toward the direction of the sound, finding a rosy toddler in hysterics, a spilled juice bottle in front of her. A woman that must be her mother is trying to reassure her.
"Same," Dan whispers to Phil as they walk forward, causing him to snort.
"Are you on the hunt for pine now?" Phil asks, trying to determine the different wood types from staring at all the shelving units around them. What color was pine again?
"We are probably not buying today," Dan says, stopping at a heavy-looking bookcase. "Just looking for ideas and seeing what we like. Davis from—"
"HouseMakerUK, yes I know, I hear his voice constantly." Phil recalls the charismatic lilt of Davis's voice as Dan has recently decided to watch every single video on building a house and Davis from the Youtube channel HouseMakerUK seems to have a video on every step, necessary and unnecessary. Speaking of unnecessary steps…
Dan has started talking about Davis as if he was a close friend. "Yeah, Davis said it's good to take at least one trip to a furniture store before needing to buy furniture. It gives you a better idea of what's available and helps you visualize spaces better, seeing them in person."
"Well, if Davis says so…"
"Oi, do you have any bright ideas then? Feels like I'm building a house with Davis here."
"And I'm Davis…" Phil recounts the Youtuber's catchphrase. "Hey, that's pretty cool."
He is pointing at a wooden bench clearly made to be outdoor furniture, but instead of a flat plank of wood to sit on, two cutout hearts are in its place. It is made of a reddish wood tone and, despite being a Kitschy concept, looks sturdy and well-crafted.
"You…you want something like that?"
"Just think it would be cute for the garden." Phil says, sitting down on one of the hearts.
Dan looks shocked and a little taken aback. "Oh."
"C'mere," Phil gestures him to sit and who is he to disobey?
Dan settles on the other wooden heart seat. Their legs don't touch, but it feels intimate, way too intimate to do in the middle of a fancy furniture store. It's terrifying, Dan thinks, until he looks to his right and finds Phil smiling at him, a small smile that he must have seen millions of times before. It calms his anxiety a little. In this moment, they are alone, two hearts sitting side by side, making plans for a life together.
Or have they already been sharing their life this whole time? When did decisions on decor necessitate both of their blessings? When did "the flat" refer to Phil's Manchester apartment that Dan didn't even live in at the time? When did they stop asking before digging through each other's closets, wearing their clothes, putting on their shoes? When did mine become ours?
"On second thought, I don't like that I don't have space here," Phil slots his arm into the hole in the middle. "No space for snacks."
Dan ignores the repetitive fisting motion Phil does to the poor bench hole and says, "It's your fat ass' fault. We gotta move on or we'll be here forever."
They both stand up and Phil is already walking ahead, but Dan finds the heart bench's tag and takes a picture of the inventory code. You know, just in case. It's a little expensive and it's gaudy and won't match the tasteful aesthetic Dan has carefully curated in his "Garden inspo" Pinterest board, but maybe…well, it's just in case.
"Hey, wait up!" He shouts, taking off on a brisk walk after Phil who is suddenly ten feet away.
Phil is staring at a little stuffed toy, having stopped at the children's section. When Dan gets close, he sees that it's a frog holding a strawberry that's half its size. Its big eyes are almost bulging against its head.
"Isn't that so cute?" Phil coos, poking the soft strawberry. "I want it."
"We are here to look at furniture, Phil." Dan reminds him, but it doesn't sound convincing even to him.
"But the little froggie, Dan!" Phil argues, picking it up and cradling it like a baby. "Aww, they like me."
"You are so embarrassing." Dan accuses, glancing around to see if people are looking at two lanky giants arguing over a frog toy in the kids' section of a furniture store.
Luckily, no one pays them any attention. The store itself isn't that busy, anyway, which Dan knows because he specifically chose Wednesday as is determined the least busiest day on the Google Maps indicator. Dan turns his attention to Phil again who is now attempting to balance the frog on his shoulder, the toy predictably falling off of him repeatedly. Dan watches it happen two more times before he grabs the toy and starts walking away.
He makes Phil pay by himself for their only purchase at the counter as he sulks near the door, refusing to be associated with the strange man buying a frog toy on a random Wednesday in August. When they walk out together, Phil gives him a shy smile, a silent "thank you," unspoken between them. Dan hears it loud and clear.
Phil hates packing.
He wasn't even aware that he had so many clothes, not to mention the number of his socks and underwear. Does a human need this many articles of clothing? Phil on a normal day would argue yes, but Phil after five hours of packing has decided that everyone should be nudists. So, yes, Phil hates packing.
Obviously, you may think, who even likes packing? Well…
"PHIL!" An excited Dan calls from the lounge and Phil jumps over a few stacks of boxes to make his way over.
"What?"
Dan is sat on the floor, legs spread out and an assortment of boxes and containers spread around him. He looks up at Phil and gestures to a corner of boxes in the corner, neatly stacked and uniform in size.
"I finished packing up all our books. I categorized them by color and then by size." Dan explains, clearly proud of himself.
His sea of boxes is parted, a considerable amount showing evidence of being a victim of Dan Howell's organization mode. Phil is glad that he hasn't seen what Phil has to show after half a day of work.
Phil can't help but smile. "Good job, rat. Did you just call me over to brag over how good you are at packing?"
"Yes, exactly." Dan says. "How are you holding up there?"
They had loosely divided the packing categories, with Dan starting at the lounge and Phil taking the first step to packing up their clothes. They had already sent off some of their furniture to a storage unit, so they had been spending less and less time upstairs, but a lot of their belongings were still here.
"Uh, I didn't realize how many socks we owned." Phil says.
"You started with socks?"
"Hey, don't question my methods!" Phil argues, making his way towards Dan and shoving himself between a large half-filled box and a half-amused Dan. "I'll have you know that I've moved around more than you, so you really have no right to criticize me."
It's a tight fit, two tall men in an already cramped space, but they never needed much space anyway.
"Only like twice." Dan rolls his eyes, their arms now touching. "And that first time was your college shared house and your parents helped you!"
"Woah woah woah, Mr. Attorney. Motion to strike!"
Dan looks at him with that mix of fondness and frustration he gets when Phil is feeling extra silly. "What?"
"Objection!" Phil giggles. "The defense rests."
"That's not—"
"Bailiff!"
Maybe it's the ridiculousness of the situation. Maybe he's becoming delirious from the stacks of boxes and miscellaneous containers around him and the hours he just spent packing up book after book. Maybe it's just Phil's presence, but Dan can't help but join him in the laughter.
"You're just saying nonsense legal phrases! They don't even make sense together."
"Yeah? Well, motion denied, and I'm ruling you as proven guilty. You're going to jail for a long time, Howell."
"That's not for the lawyer to decide!"
Phil laughs, loud and uninhibited. The length of time they've spent inside has kept his skin an almost marble color and now, he goes a bit pink. Dan has the urge to pinch his cheeks and squeeze them like a tube of toothpaste.
"Hey, this is serious! I don't want to go to jail!" Dan says, grabbing his sleeved arm and shaking him.
"Stop, hey! You're not allowed to shake the judge!"
Dan stops pulling, but keeps his hands on Phil's arms. "Oh, and you're the judge, are you?"
"Yup," Phil says, a spark in his eye. "Okay, I'll take it easy on you. You don't have to go to jail, but you're sentenced to community service."
"Sentenced to…?"
"The jury and I have convened. We have decided that you need to…" He trails off , leaning in conspiratorially.
"Oh no, whatever could it be?" Dan asks, despite having a good hunch.
"As community service, you owe the judge a kiss." Phil finishes his verdict, giving a dignified nod alongside it. "Oh, and tell the judge how amazing and hot he is, also."
"Right. And the judge is…?"
"Me, you spork!"
Dan rolls his eyes, pressing a quick peck to his cheek. "There. Done."
Phil complains, "What! That doesn't count. It has to be a proper one!"
"You know, if you were a real judge, this would be considered sexual coercion."
"Shut the fuck up and kiss me."
Dan snorts and finally cups Phil's face, turning it towards him. He knows that he has the softest look in his eyes, but he can't bring himself to care about how whipped he looks as he leans in. He kisses Phil with an intimate fondness that only he can give. He relishes in being the only one who can touch Phil in this way, grabbing the back of his head to pull him closer. Phil's hand moves to his side, caressing over his shirt. They move in sync, borne out of a learned understanding of each other's soul.
Lately, they have been having more and more discussions about their future, their house, and their personal lives. They have started plotting out what the next few years will look like, something they barely did before. Dan wants to reconnect with old friends, ones that he really liked but couldn't maintain because of the mess that was in his mind. Phil wants to get a dog someday, maybe not now, but he's been doing a lot of research on local animal rescues. They both want to go on more vacations. It's a little terrifying, but also a lot exciting, to see all the different possibilities of the future in front of them. Dan feels both the terror and excitement now, little rivers that separate into smaller creeks, meeting in the points their bodies touch.
When Dan pulls away, they remain close, breaths mingling. Phil's eyes are so pretty up close, a kaleidoscope of colors. It's nothing new to him, but it rivals sunrises on a beach in Dan's list of favorite things to look at. Another thing that only Dan has had the privilege of observing so close. He lets himself look, absentmindedly combing his fingers through black strands as he gets absorbed in the view.
"Okay, now the other things," Phil demands, his eyes way too distracting for Dan to pay attention to anything else.
"Huh?" Dan probably couldn't recite his multiplication tables right now if asked.
"That wasn't the only requirement for your community service. You also have to tell me, er, the judge, how amazing and hot I am."
Dan laughs, finally tearing his gaze away. "You are so annoying."
"With that attitude, you might go to jail, you know. I was being so kind giving you another chance—"
"Shut up, Jesus fuck. Fine. You are hot and amazing," Dan cuts him off. "Even when you're being an annoying little shit—"
"Hey!"
"Even then! You are amazing. You make the lives of the people around you richer with your presence and I am grateful to have you beside me for the rest of our lives."
Phil stares at him, mouth ajar in surprise. It's satisfying to be able to stun him like this, more than a decade in.
Dan leans in and whispers, "And you've got a nice ass."
With that, he stands up, jostling a couple of boxes in the process, and heads to the toilet. He snickers to himself, imagining the Windows XP rebooting sound playing in Phil's head.
A voice calls out from him after a few seconds of stunned silence. "Daniel! You can't just leave me after that!"
"Just did, nerd!"
When Phil wakes up, the thundering echo lingers in the dark room. The sun hasn't risen yet or perhaps the clouds are too dark for it to shine through.
The rain drums incessantly against the window panes of their bedroom. The faint sound of thunder in the distance warns Phil that this will last most of the day. He combs his mind calendar and realizes that it's the first time it's rained since their roofing was fixed from the last heavy rain. He hopes their home is okay, turning over to Dan.
Dan is evidently awake. He lays face down, his side of the blanket half-kicked off. As if he tried to push it away, but couldn't quite muster the energy. Phil takes a few moments to fully wake up before assessing his boyfriend. He reaches over for his glasses and slides them over his eyes.
He can't quite see Dan's face, buried in the pillow. How is he even breathing like that? Still, Phil sees the rise and fall of his back, visual confirmation that he is alive and breathing. Usually, Dan starts the coffee immediately when he wakes. He once said the ritual was grounding and making them both coffee gave him a small mood boost in the morning. It made him feel needed. Today, he is face down in bed and hasn't even acknowledged Phil. It's not like he's been quiet as he shuffled around. Phil worries.
"Dan?" Phil tries, voice rough.
Maybe he's just misinterpreted and Dan is just being silly. Or sleepy because of the rain. A man can hope.
Dan makes a groaning sound. Phil can't tell if it contained any words as he watches Dan's back shift. His partner lifts his right arm, letting his red-rimmed eyes meet his own.
"Oh, sweetheart." Phil can't help but say, overcome with sadness at the sight.
He can tell immediately that the world is dull for Dan today. It has been happening less often, because he has been consistently going to therapy and working on his self-talk, but Phil knows it will take a while for these days to go away completely. Phil knows this, was there when they made a practical action plan for days like this, was an active participant in the deep dives on depression, but he still worries.
"…Phil…" Dan whispers, after a few moments.
"My love," Phil murmurs. "You're not feeling well, huh, darling?"
They weren't really prone to pet names, preferring tongue-in-cheek insults instead. When they were sick, however, it was like a secret vault of endearments was opened. Maybe it helped assuage the reactive guilt and worry that settles in his gut, Phil thinks. Maybe the words communicate to Dan in his mind full of shame and darkness better than the more straightforward reassurances would. Phil hopes, at least.
"Roofing…rain…" Dan says weakly, then shuts his eyes, as if each word was a bright light that he had to hide from.
It was moments like this when Phil is thankful for their strange alien language, this mutual understanding that worked 95% of the time. There's a million things that could be on Dan's mind right now and Phil doesn't have access to everything, but he has a good idea of what is most overwhelming, what amplifies the other worries. Phil doesn't touch him, because he isn't sure if it would help, but he reaches a hand closer, half an inch away from Dan's elbow.
"You don't need to check on the roofing. I can go. Ron and I will be fine by ourselves." Phil offers. "We…We'll figure it out if the rain messed with it, okay, bear? You can stay and rest."
Dan makes a whimpering noise, but doesn't say anything further.
"It's okay. I'm not upset with you."
Dan remains still.
"Sweetheart, can I…Is it okay to touch you?" Phil asks, unsure, but trying to choose his words carefully.
As soon as Dan says, "Please," muffled into the pillow, Phil is moving forward, wrapping his arms around him and bringing Dan's face into the crook of his own neck. He feels the wetness against his throat and Dan makes little gasping noises against him as Phil runs his hands through his hair, down his back, between his shoulder blades, holding him close.
"I love you so much, Dan," Phil says, voice tight. "You're so dear to me and you make me so happy and you take care of me so well."
It's always hard for him to control his tears when Dan cries, but he wants to be strong in moments like this, when Dan's depression claws at him, pulling him towards nothingness. It hasn't been bad for at least a few weeks and Phil thanks the universe and Dr. Clarke for this, but it doesn't make it any easier when it does happen.
Dan's cries start slowing as he takes heaving breaths, no doubt utilizing that technique he was taught recently. Who knew therapy involved so much studying?
Phil kisses the top of his head, half his face buried in brown curls. He smells Dan's shampoo from his shower last night. He goes through The Action Plan in his head, but waits as Dan wipes at his face.
He has pulled away enough for Phil to see his face, eyes slightly swollen and cheeks flushed. His gaze is cast downwards as he sniffles. His lips look bitten and the bags under his eyes are sunken. He looks exhausted. Phil strokes his right cheek with the back of his hand and Dan doesn't meet his gaze but he shuffles back into Phil's chest, hiding his face again.
"Talk?" He asks when Dan goes quiet.
Dan shakes his head from below his chin.
"TV?" Sometimes it helped to have a distraction.
Dan shakes his head again.
"Did you drink your meds last night?"
Dan nods. That's good. One less thing to worry about.
"Okay. Water," Phil says, turning to stand up.
But Dan grabs at his arm, his grip weak. "No…Need you here."
Phil could cry at the almost complete sentence, but he won't because Dan needs him right now. He holds his outstretched hand in both his own, gentle in a way he isn't usually.
"I know, love, but you know you need water."
"No…please…"
"Dan, you know you need to hydrate."
The pleading eyes almost gets to him, but he stays focused, trying to ask simple questions.
"Uhm, do you want to come with me to the kitchen?"
Dan shakes his head.
"Dan…" Phil says. "Alright, I'll lay with you for five more minutes, but after that, I need to get you water and maybe a snack. Then we can cuddle again, okay, darling?"
Dan groans, but eventually nods, shuffling in place and looking up at him. When his red eyes meet Phil's, he can't stop the solitary tear that falls from his eye. He quickly wipes it away and lies back down.
"I'm so proud of you for telling me what you need," Phil says to Dan, not breaking his gaze as he shifts to a more comfortable position, legs tangled together and his arm on his partner's waist. Dan watches him, letting out a breath.
Later, Phil will go to the house by himself and tell Ron that Dan is busy with work. Later, he will find out if the reinforced roofing has held up against the rain, but even if it doesn't, they can always rebuild it again. If it gives up again, unable to hold its own against nature, that's no problem. They have forever to keep rebuilding and for Phil, for whom a rainstorm isn't as strong, it will always be worth it.
But for now, Phil takes out his phone and opens Tiktok, angling the screen enough that Dan can watch without needing to adjust. For now, Phil sits in the rain.