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“You’re really strong,” Phil mumbled as he leaned against Dan for support.
Dan had one arm wrapped around Phil’s waist; the other was pressed against his shoulder to keep him upright and from tumbling over.
Dan huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of his face which somehow led to Phil swaying to the side and—Jesus Christ, Dan should really go to the gym more often.
“And you’re fucking heavy.”
“Big-boned.” Phil froze mid-sway, wrinkled his forehead, and started giggling. “Big-boned. That’s a funny word.”
Dan rolled his eyes, deliberately pulling down his lips because he would not laugh about this. Not when in all actuality Dan was kind of fuming because who discarded a patient immediately after drugging them up?
“This is a hate crime,” he mumbled decidedly, finally managing to get Phil into a, well, at least somewhat less fall-y position and taking another step. “What did they even give you?”
Phil took a few clumsy steps with Dan, got about a metre, tripped over his own feet and fell into Dan.
To top it all off, it made him giggle even more while Dan fought for his life not to fall over as well.
Fuck hospital regulations and staff shortages.
“Don’t know. Tasted yucky, though.”
“I knew I should’ve stayed with you,” Dan grunted. Maybe Dan could’ve at least stolen a wheelchair or something…anything to make his life easier.
He could’ve stolen one of the gurneys from his ambulance…
Phil—words apparently only now coming through—snapped his head up to give him a pouty look, but instead, ungracefully headbutted Dan in the nose.
Dan sighed.
“Less for your sake and more for my wellbeing apparently.” Dan shifted until his arms were placed under either side of Phil’s armpits, Dan standing behind him and face out of accidental assault reach.
The sight must be one for the gods; Dan half-shoving, half-carrying him across the house…But it worked and there was literally not a single soul that could see them so fuck the method, he guessed.
And after another ten minutes, when they finally made it to Phil’s bed, decidedly worst workout in history accomplished, arms dead from carrying his big-boned boyfriend—or whatever—all Dan could do was push him off him until he fell face first onto the covers of his bed.
The fall, or rather the landing, was, admittedly, a bit rough given the loud grunt coming from the limp twink lying face down on the bed.
“Oops,” Dan said, doing an amazing job at not laughing.
“Daaaan.” Phil pushed himself up with one arm, held it in the air, one finger up and immediately flopped down into the mattress again.
And that was when he failed, laughter coming out loud and without a single shred of shame… Okay, maybe not his greatest moment as a caring partner (definitely not his greatest one as a paramedic) but he was still human! Honestly, Dan couldn’t think of one sentient being that wouldn’t have laughed at the sight.
“I thought you’re supposed to be good at caring for people,” Phil cried out, voice muffled by the fact he was still lying face planted into the mattress.
Dan was grabbing at his stomach, tummy aching from the laughter.
“I’m saving people’s lives,” he pushed out between laughs, sweating the tears away at the corners of his eyes. “The caring stuff is hospital stuff.”
Phil turned his head, narrowing his eyes and pushing his bottom lip out in a pout.
“Makes sense.”
“Uh, excuse you?” Dan immediately stopped his laughter, hand hitting against his chest dramatically, voice thick with mock offense. “I’ve just carried your fat ass through half of your house. If that wasn’t caring.”
Phil’s lips turned into a grin. “You like my fat ass.” He said, thought about it before adding, “You love it.”
Dan felt his face freeze for a second. All the stress from the last two days had erased the memories of their pre-hospital talk and he had almost forgotten that they’d actually already gotten past that “not knowing where they’re standing” thing.
So, he felt himself relax immediately, smirk spreading across his face. “I love it.”
Dan, feeling bad eventually, helped Phil turn around to actually be able to get comfortable.
Somewhere between finding everything funny and finding everything annoying, Dan’s favorite part of drugged-up patients settled in.
Sleepiness.
With already closed eyes, Phil turned his head in Dan’s direction while Dan now sat on the edge of the bed, carefully brushing away the strands of hair from Phil’s face. He didn’t actually get the direction right and just kind of weirdly stared at a blank wall…but Dan got the general sentiment.
“Now that we said I love you ’n all, does that mean we’re like—” Phil narrowed his eyes, voice going off into a whisper. “Boyfriends?”
Dan chuckled lowly, glad that Phil couldn’t see the burning in his face. Despite having been his fake boyfriend for a whole-ass weekend already, the word still did weird things to Dan.
“Do you want us to be?”
Phil pulled his lips together, never opening his eyes. “I don’t want to lie to my family anymore.”
Dan laughed, rolling his eyes. “Well, if that’s all you’re concerned about.”
“It’s not!” Phil threw in immediately. “The love thing is also a big part. Stop using my derilious drug words against me.”
“Oof, almost. Such a big and difficult word.”
Phil swatted his arm at where he thought Dan stood, missing him entirely.
Dan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing—which was still very impressive.
“You’re being difficult on purpose, Howell.” Phil pouted.
“Fine.” Dan exhaled, mostly for show…even though a small part of him actually still needed it to swallow down what was left of that guilty feeling he kept holding onto. “I guess you won’t have to lie to your parents anymore.”
“Yesss.”
“Yesss?“ Dan copied. „Seriously? I want to take it back.”
“No, take backsies. You love me,” Phil grinned at him—the wall— widely and tried to swat at him once more.
“Oh my— Stop trying to hit me, you stupid hoe. We were bonding.”
Phil apparently enjoying rage-baiting Dan, tried again, unfortunately hit him and pulled him down. For someone in his state, he was incredibly strong (or Dan was incredibly weak, who really knew?)
Dan landed half on top of him and Phil immediately wrapped his long-ass lanky limbs around him.
“Now you have to stay until I feel better.”
“I’m so looking forward to you being sober again. This is a lot,” Dan said, even though in all actuality he really enjoyed this.
The last few days had been a lot, so he was glad they were still able to have fun together and keep it light. Even though he was pretty sure that it was mainly the drugs‘ fault.
None of that that would he ever say out loud of course.
"Also, of course I’m staying. Who knows what you’d be able to get up to when left alone while high when the glue eating was you being sober.”
"Maybe I’ll think about the take-backsies policy.“
Dan rolled his eyes, turning so he could also wrap his arms around Phil. His boyfriend.
He would also never tell him, how much this actually affected him in all the right ways. And how he had planned to stay all along, maybe never leave ever again.
For some reason, he was pretty sure Phil already knew so much.
It had been a week now since Phil had been discharged from the hospital.
Dan had taken another week off work and had basically spent day and night at Phil’s house instead… or in his bed, to be specific.
Phil’s pain medication at home didn’t come with the getting-high effect and just made him really tired. So, he slept most of the time.
Dan either napped with him, cuddled up right to his side—which still felt crazy to think about because wow, he really was just allowed to do that—or doomscrolled Instagram while acting as a pillow for his boyfriend.
And when Phil was awake they just talked, continued to play "It Takes Two“, played Wordle or just co-existed both on their respective sides of the bed, doing whatever.
Due to Phil’s everlasting dizziness and his migraine episodes that hadn’t stopped since the pre-hospital night, they never really left the bed like at all.
But honestly? For Dan, probably the best fucking week he’d had since like forever.
Rotting in bed for a week non-stop, only getting out of it to get the delivered food, go to the toilet or to shower? Amazing.
Getting to spend time with his actual boyfriend who was actually nice and funny? Chef’s kiss.
No fomo because this was absolutely necessary and productive because he was caring for his sick partner? Cherry on top.
The only downside being the obvious fact that Phil was miserable.
At least, at the end of the week, after Phil had been poked by a thousand different doctors, they finally found out what was wrong.
"At least it’s not a tumor,“ Phil said that evening, lying in bed cuddled into Dan’s side, hands buried into the seam of his shirt.
"I mean, I told you how unlikely that would’ve been but you much rather believed Google.“
Phil nodded. "Yeah, Google uses more intelligent words.“
Dan rolled his eyes. "Well, but I was right. Not a tumor.“
"Don’t know if chronic migraines are much better, though.“
"You can’t die of them.“
Phil opened his mouth to say something before closing it again. "Yeah, okay. You’re right.“
"Mmm, can you say that again?“
"In your dreams.“ Phil let go with one hand, drawing zigzags with his finger over Dan’s chest.
"Can you stay another week maybe? Until the drugs do what they’re supposed to.“
Dan grabbed Phil’s hand that was still nervously drawing on Dan’s shirt and squeezed it before pressing a tender kiss to his forehead.
"Yeah, sure.“ He pressed his lips together. "Though, probably not without working. I think they’ll kill me if I’m missing another week.“
Phil pouted—Dan supposed less out of actual sulking and more because of the fact he knew that it worked on Dan.
"You should think about that YouTube career.“
"Shut up and be glad I’m staying.“
"I am.“
Dan smiled, couldn’t help it if he tried.
Phil’s eyes got caught on Dan’s dimple, his face mirroring him, before he tilted his head up, his breath brushing hot against Dan’s mouth.
"But you should really think about it.“
He pressed his lips against Dan’s before he could answer and Dan could feel the grin while kissing him.
Week two went by in a haze.
Phil’s medication was working. The dizziness was almost gone, headaches there but managable.
Dan had started working again but instead of going home to his place, he just immediately went back to Phil's instead.
Phil was able to get out of bed again so while they still spent a lot of the time rotting somewhere—mainly on the couch playing Mario Kart—they now also did stuff like house cleaning and cooking together.
Dan also went back to his apartment a few times to get some more clothes and a few cooking utensils.
It was fun. Dan had never realised how much he had hated living alone. Maybe he should think about getting a roommate after this.
Whenever after this would be, of course. Dan was obviously only going to leave when he knew 100 percent that Phil would be fine on his own again.
After week two, Phil definitely started to become more like himself again.
It happened slowly. First, he stayed awake for longer. Then he started making his own coffee again. Then he complained about Dan putting the mugs back into the wrong ccupboard while simultaneously himself leaving every single cupboard door open… which was honestly the clearest sign of recovery Dan could’ve asked for.
By week three, Dan’s reasons for staying became significantly less medical necessary…but still a big help to Phil.
He was better, sure, but not better better. He still got dizzy sometimes. Still had to sit down when his head started feeling wrong. Still spent a big majority of the time sleeping.
So, really, Dan staying was just common sense.
By week four, Phil was almost back to full health.
Almost being the important word here.
He still had a few migraine episodes that week. Still got tired faster than he used to. Still sometimes blinked too slowly when he stood up, making Dan hover behind him like an idiot.
So, no, maybe Dan didn’t technically need to stay anymore.
But…better safe then sorry, right?
"Dan, have you bought the salt?“ Phil shouted from upstairs to Dan who was sitting cross-legged in the bedroom downstairs, getting his PC settled.
He had gotten it from his apartment a few days ago.
Dan plugged the same cable into the same hole for the fourth time, hoping it would change this time. „Oh, you stupid—“ It didn’t. Dan glared at it and threw it to the side.
"Uh, you’ve never said anything about salt.“
"I’m sure I’ve definitely—“ Phil stopped mid-sentence. "No, wait. I think I’m remembering it wrong. My fault.“
Dan shook his head, smiling despite his frustration with the unmannerly electronic. "Phiilll, can you come downstairs? I need your help.“
"Yup. Wait a second.“ Dan could hear him skip down the stairs and immediately started fidgeting with a cable because thinking too much about Phil and the way he jogged down those steps was pure nightmare material.
"You're gonna break a leg someday,“ Dan said when greeting Phil at the door.
"Stop saying that. You’re jinxing it.“
"I’m—?“ Dan made a show out of choking on thin air, finger pointing at himself in disbelief. "You should just stop challenging the universe and start walking down the stairs like a normal person.“
Phil kicked Dan’s knee. "Didn’t you need my help with something?“
"Oh, yes.“ Dan put on his sweetest smile. "There's only that one cable left and I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to go in there. But it doesn’t work.“
Phil pursed his lips. "Have you tried turning it?“
"That’s the single most dumbest tip I’ve ever— Oh, it worked.“
"Told you.“ Phil grinned, hand quickly brushing through Dan’s curls, gently tugging at them to make Dan look up at him.
"I’ve put your laundry into the washing machine, by the way.“
"Thanks.“ Dan pushed himself up from the floor, pressed a kiss to Phil’s lips before turning to his screen which was now softly glowing. "Oh, also. Should we cook something, or order?“
"I’m kind of in the mood for takeout. Pizza?“
"Awesome.“
"Great.“
"Yup.“
Dan grabbed his mouse before opening a few apps just to make sure everything was properly working, closed them again and when he turned around Phil was still standing behind him.
Dan let an eyebrow rise up. "Is... everything okay?“
Instead of answering, Phil was just staring at him for a moment, nervously biting at his lips and it reminded Dan of their first few interactions.
He grabbed Phil’s hand and pulled him close until he could hold him at his waist.
"What’s up in that noggin of yours?“
Phil stared at him out of blue eyes, not saying anything. The wrinkles between his brows and the way he tortured his bottom lip made Dan nervous as well.
"Did you…notice that we’re like—“ Phil swayed his head side to side. "Very domestic?“
“Uh,” the question took Dan by surprise. “I guess?”
Phil kept staring at him, his expression annoyingly unreadable.
Dan blinked. “Is that…bad?”
“No.” Phil shook his head quickly, then looked down at where Dan’s hands were still resting on his waist. “No, it’s just— Your laundry is in my washing machine.”
Dan glanced toward the ceiling as if he could see the laundry through several layers of house. “That does sound like something laundry would do, yeah.”
“And your PC is in my downstairs bedroom.”
“Well, I can’t exactly carry that back and forth every day, can I?”
“And you brought your own pan.”
Dan opened his mouth, frantically searching for a snarky comeback. Because he knew exactly where this conversation was going and, frankly, he would rather wrestle another migraine patient than say any of it out loud.
“That pan is objectively better than yours,” was what he finally managed to get out.
Phil’s lips twitched, seeing through him immediately.
“It is,” Dan insisted anyway.
"It kind of feels like…“ Phil trailed off, eyes skipping to the side before meeting Dan’s again.
"Don’t make me say it,“ Dan mumbled, making Phil smile in an instant.
"I won’t.“
Dan could feel his chest tightening in those few seconds neither of them said anything else.
He quietly stared down at their feet, at Phil’s bare feet almost touching his socks. Standing in the middle of the bedroom Dan had spent the last four weeks sleeping in next to him.
Hell, he had even bought himself a nightstand…
"Fuck, I moved in, haven’t I?“
Their eyes met again, Dan's fingers burying into Phil’s waist.
"I mean, pretty much, yeah.“
"Oh, fuck myself, I—“
"I’m not complaining.“
Dan went quiet, mouth snapping closed. "No?“
"No,“ Phil smiled, pulled his arms up and let them hang loosely over Dan’s shoulders before furrowing his brows. "Is that crazy?“
Dan huffed a short laugh. "Absolutely.“
"Are we gonna do something about it?“
This was craziness. Dan knew that. Nothing about any of this—of probably them—was normal.
But he couldn’t find a single reason why this was a bad idea.
The last four weeks had been the best in his entire life. He loved Phil. Phil had a house where they could still very much spend time alone.
So, there was really only one logical answer.
"Would be a whole lot cheaper if I canceled the rent for my apartment.“