Chapter Text
sometimes you know what kind of day it's going to be the moment you wake up.
dan knows the moment he wakes up, alone, in his own bed, that it's going to be a bad day, and he's annoyed about it from the get-go.
he slept.. fine. not good, not bad, just fine, which makes him grumpier than if he got bad sleep. fine sleep is often categorised as good sleep, and it's not. if anything, it should be classified as bad sleep.
he and phil had decided to sleep separately the previous night, not because of an explosive fight, but a weird stress in the air neither could quite shake. they bid each other goodnight with soft kisses and promises of 'we'll figure it out in the morning' and everything was okay.
except that it wasn't. at least, not now.
and sure, they've done this before. sometimes you really just need your own space without another 6 foot man hogging the sheets and snoring next to you. (sometimes, though, this was a nice normalcy.)
but some mornings it still tugs at dan's heart and makes him whiny. phil lets him cling those mornings. (phil would let him cling every morning and would still look at him with so much love and affection he'll throw up, even though he well appreciates it.)
this morning was setting up to be a clingy morning, but in a weirder way. he’s feeling the loss of familiar body heat he’s too used too deeply and it’s starting to make him a little cranky, so he does the only logical thing he can think of doing, something that he knows will make it better.
he gets up and stumbles into phil's room as quickly as possible, trying not to lose any of the lazy sleepiness that’s settled like a welcoming fog over his stressful thoughts.
phil, who isn't really awake (god forbid you got this man out of bed before 11am) but isn't fully asleep either, still manages to raise his head a little and give dan a lopsided, sleepy grin when he wanders in, scooching over and lifting his covers wordlessly.
when dan slides in, they both breathe out a little easier, knowing that even though they can't stay here for long, for right now it's far better than it was ten minutes ago; for both of them.
phil runs cold and dan runs hot and so when they sleep together, it's thermodynamic equilibrium. (mostly. phil's feet are fucking freezing. sometimes it makes him shiver.)
"you're weird," phil mumbles as he pulls dan into his chest.
it sounds like a statement but it's really a question, and dan knows what it means. you alright? you're acting different, why?
"last night was weird," he counters. something feels off and i'm not sure what.
"mm." phil's humming indicates his acknowledgement; though dan doesn't know if it's because he's too sleepy to form a coherent sentence or if he's thinking.
probably both.
maybe both.
maybe phil's also thinking about the previous night and he has some thoughts on it that he can't tell dan.
dan tries not to think about this too much, to just enjoy the peace this is bringing him, but that’s far, far easier said than done.
for some reason, phil’s gentle worry has flipped his anxiety switch and now there’s a low buzzing in his ears that’s getting louder and more unpleasant.
this is unfair, he thinks. he came in here to get some rest, not to wake up more.
the thought is making him cross in a way that he both wants to shut down and to have a toddler-esque temper tantrum.
"your thoughts are too loud," phil grumbles where he's put his face against dan's hair. he's been half-awake for a little bit now because his head started throbbing and startled him out of a lovely dream and dan's thoughts are loud enough that they're making his head hurt more.
but he doesn't elaborate with that, he just nuzzles dan's curls, for a moment feeling a familiar rush of joy that dan was finally as in love with them as he's always been.
dan huffs a laugh, muffled against phil's skin. phil smiles despite the sound going straight to his head in a cruel way. dan's sleepy, grumpy laugh is too cute, it should not be capable of making his head hurt.
phil stifles a sigh. he knows dan's lost in his head and doesn't want to give him any more to worry about.
"plans?" he mumbles instead. what are we doing today? can we just stay in bed instead?
a pang of annoyance hits dan like a tonne of bricks. of course phil wouldn't remember what today was supposed to be. of course he wanted to have a lazy day instead of do it.
this annoyance gets so heavy he pulls away, setting his lips into a tight line as he contemplates how to address it without getting loud and cruel. it's too important a day for that.
phil whines quietly at the loss of the familiar warmth when dan pulls away, for a moment wanting to pull dan back, but when he cracks one eye open, dan looks absolutely pissed, so he just sighs out loud instead.
he hopes dan isn't about to start yelling (he looks like he wants to) because that would be a very, very bad way to start the day.
not that this is a great start, but it's somewhat nice, at least. they got some tired cuddles in, despite not spending the night together.
"do you honestly not remember what we're fucking doing today? or do you just not care?" the accusation flies from him before dan really thinks about it, the annoyance overriding his want to be calm and collected about this.
well, loud and cruel it is.
phil winces. it's not very loud but it's sharp and it cuts through him like butter and it hurts.
dan doesn't notice this, too peeved to pay attention to anything other than the growing irritation that phil doesn't listen and doesn't remember and he's thirty-nine and it's ridiculous.
he understands that phil's probably too tired and probably just didn't think about it, but sometimes he feels he takes on all the mental burden around here. he frets for both of them, he makes scripts, he schedules uploads, what does phil do? forget anniversary videos, apparently. he's just too eager to have lazy days while dan worries about what the implications of lazy days mean, just how much work they have to go back to the following day.
he feels a cold hand on his cheek (seriously, why is phil so fucking cold) and he feels the irritation dull into what it is really is.
grief.
anxiety.
and that threatens to send him into a full-blown panic attack so he pulls away entirely, with all the grace of a newborn deer.
phil drops his hand to the pillow limply. he doesn't like when dan gets like this, when he pulls away so fast (physically and emotionally), but dan's thoughts are too loud and he thinks that’s the tipping point, because his migraine has come on full force.
even though he's lying down with his eyes closed, he feels like he's spinning and a very real, very cruel feeling of vomiting is rising up his chest.
dan, for all his displeased momentum, keeps forcibly reminding himself that phil likely didn't mean it, so he sighs. loud and grumpy, just like he is.
he sits up, gives phil a soft kiss on the cheek (a placating gesture; i'm not mad at you, i'm just going through it) and leaves the room as quietly as he came in with an almost biting, "coff," i'm making us coffee.
just because there's pain in the form of anger sprouting in his chest, doesn't mean he actually means it, and certainly doesn't mean he's not going to make them both a morning coffee. he loves phil, through and through.
"de," comes phil's reply from the room, a little unsteady from how loud he has to be to make sure dan hears it. decaf for me please.
it's peculiar that phil wants decaf on such an important filming day, but dan just brushes it with the bitter reminder that phil doesn't remember what day today is, and it's not that important to him, and so of course he doesn't want to have coffee this early.
the grief that subsided when he was in the same room as phil (even if he was miffed for the majority of the time he was in said room) comes back and makes him actually take slow, deliberate steps through the house (their house) so he doesn't keel over unceremoniously. what an embarrassing way that would be to start the day.
for all his understanding and affection for phil, and for all the grief and anxiety he knows he's experiencing, he still can't always keep the spiteful thoughts at bay.
the difference, though, is that now he knows they're just spiteful thoughts. he allows himself the luxury of having them, but not believing them. and certainly not saying them; they're just pests, not real problems.
he glances at the clock in the hallway as he passes by it, footsteps determined now, despite the familiar sting in his eyes.
7.18.
yeah, definitely too early, despite both of them having gone to bed at a reasonable hour the night before.
he goes into autopilot with their fancy coffee machine, grateful for the distraction so the tears that started pricking at his eyes don't fall. it's a worthwhile purchase, for sure, even if the tinkling noises are a bit grating sometimes. like now, when dan's cranky.
"shut up," he tells the machine, voice the tiniest bit wobbly, though he's fully aware it'll make no difference. it's more for him, for the silence in the house that's both comforting and just on this side of unsettling.
while his eyes wander over the mug cabinet to pick out his own mug, he thinks idly about how they kept far too many. there's just too much sentimentality in so many of them that it was impossible to part with them, though they had both promised to be brutal with the decluttering. the thought causes a flash of annoyance, but mostly at himself for being an audience pleaser - even when there's no audience to please. it's their house, no one else is making these rules. they could have kept all the mugs, in fact.
he lingers his gaze on the whisker mug for so long that the machine beeps its ending sound, and he tears his eyes away to stare at phil's coffee. decaf, right? he thinks he put decaf.
..right?
he can't remember.
he presses his lips together to hold back the tears he was keeping at bay that are all too suddenly threatening to burst. he's really out of it if he can't even remember if he fulfilled phil's simple request.
or maybe he's doing it on purpose, out of spite. that would be cruel, and rather unusual for him, but who knows.
he dumps the coffee out before he starts crying from thinking too hard about how cruel he can be to phil about nothing at all, and on a whim decides to put the mug in the sink in favour of grabbing the whisker mug.
nothing wrong with a little sentimentality on a heavy day.
it's not a heavy day, he corrects himself silently, it just started off on the wrong foot. and there's plenty of time to make it better for both of them, even if he doesn't quite want to.
childishly, he kind of wants to hold a grudge about it and pout and maybe tell phil that if this relationship isn't even that important they don't need to announce it to the world. but he knows that's not right, and he won't do that. it's just unnecessary. it's just nerves.
so he hunches over the coffee machine again, this time repeating decaf to himself a mile a minute and focusing so hard on making sure he's using their fancy decaf coffee that he doesn’t hear footsteps down the hall, heavy and dragging in the silence.
when the machine whirs to life, he realises he's still focusing so hard that his shoulders have tensed up and the ache in them is brutal.
before he can start preparing his own mug (he hadn't even thought about what mug to use for himself), he feels arms around him wordlessly, pulling him from his thoughts, and his shoulders drop immediately as the tension seeps out of them, the melodically beeping machine signifying the end of the cycle forgotten completely.
the relief he feels is so instant and great that he can't even remember what he was concentrating so hard on until he feels tears spilling down his face.
right. that.
he turns around slowly to press his cheek against phil's shoulder, hoping he doesn't get comments on his tears.
he doesn't.
phil, for all his migraine and forgetfulness, still shows up for him and still holds him. and there's something beautiful to that.
so beautiful his tears fall faster and he stifles a sob with a pointed press of his lips to phil's neck, uncaring that his tears are falling into his skin now.
phil shivers a little. the tears are hurting his heart more than actually making him cold, but he knows dan needs to cry right now and he's going to stand here and let him, dammit. even if he feels like he wants to collapse.
he tightens his loosening grip on dan though it aches him to do so, and dan does sob at this. phil hears it even though it's muffled by his skin.
"dan, we don't- we don't have to film it today," he murmurs gently, "we can do it tomorrow or something.."
"you remember?"
"of course,"
of course. of course he remembers, even though he wanted to have a lazy day. even though he sounds like he's in pain. (is it a migraine day? dan wonders suddenly. the thought gets lost in the buzz of his head before he can verbalise it.)
he lifts his head to look at phil, who's looking at him with a small, knowing smile. he unloops one of his arms from around dan to brush his tears off his cheeks, and the sensation is so gentle, so light, that dan feels a shiver run down his spine. he leans into the touch, and phil smiles wider.
this is love, he thinks mindlessly. this is love and it deserves to be shared.
so he shakes his head, slowly, not wanting phil to pull his hand away. the smell of the coffee encompasses them both, warm and inviting and full of the same love they both are (probably less, dan thinks, because his love for phil cannot and will not ever be beaten, especially not be a machine).
"this is love," he repeats quietly, voice cracking the tiniest amount. he feels small and shy and yet bold and delighted at the same time. "it deserves to be shared,"
phil hums his acknowledgement. he loves when dan vocalises their love. it's been real for fifteen years but it feels even more real, especially after keeping it quiet for so long.
they deserve this. they deserve to talk about the best thing that's ever happened to either one of them.
so it's still probably going to be a bad day, and they might have to refilm the video tomorrow, but they're going to get through it.
together.
always together.