Chapter Text
The first thing Dan notices when he wakes up is his hair.
More specifically, the lack of it.
And, okay, listen. He knows he's just had a haircut, and maybe his new mullet style would take a little bit of getting used to, but something about it just feels… wrong.
Cautiously, he raises a hand to the side of his head.
He gasps, bolting upright, loud enough to wake Phil who had been asleep beside him.
Somehow, the sides of his head are buzzed, practically down to the scalp. The longer section in the middle, the part he'd been expecting to be his medium-length curls, is entirely too long, pin-straight, and brittle.
"What's up?" Phil asks, sleepily. Dan can't see him, but he knows he's rubbing his eyes, attempting to clear out the remnants of sleep from his system.
"My hair feels wrong," Dan says. He's aware it doesn't really make sense, but that's the best he's got.
"What do you mean?" Phil, unsurpringly, questions.
"It's…" Dan hesitates. "It's too short. But it's also too long."
Phil stifles a yawn. "Is this about your haircut? It's okay if you don't like it, it'll grow back."
"No, it's… I don't know. It feels dif-"
"Oh my god!" Phil yelps, interrupting Dan's explanation. Dan turns, the panic in Phil's voice overriding his own self-conscious need to hide his appearance.
He gasps out loud when he sees Phil.
"What the fuck?" He reaches out a hand, tracing it along Phil's skin. "Phil, what is this?"
"I don't know," Phil says, and Dan knows he's panicking, too. "I don't know how this happened. Dan, what the fuck do I do?"
His arms, right from the joint of his hand to where they disappear into his pyjama shirt, are covered in tattoos. In any other context, Dan might admire the webs of beautiful, swirling patterns and imagery, but in the context of it being on Phil's skin forever with no explanation, he has other priorities.
"This is crazy," He says, as if they weren't both aware of the fact.
"Oh my god," Phil says again, but he's looking up now. "Dan. Your hair. Your… chest."
Startled, Dan looks down. Sure enough, adorning the centre of his chest is an intricate tattoo of a sword, vines swirling around it. He has no recollection of ever even seeing the design before.
"What the fuck is going on?" He whispers.
Desperate for answers, he grabs his phone off of the nightstand, opening up the front camera. He angles it towards both himself and Phil, giving them both a chance to see their own appearances for themselves.
They both gasp at the same time.
"This is crazy," Dan repeats. His hair, sure enough, is not at all what it had been when he had gone to bed. His sides are shaved, the middle long enough for what Dan can only imagine is supposed to be styled into a full-on mohican, and if that wasn't enough, it was also bright red.
The two of them were suddenly covered in piercings. Lip, nose, eyebrow, ears - you name it. Rings of silver lined both of their faces, and Dan can't help but notice the matching black dagger earring the two of them were wearing. His heart does something indescribable in his chest.
He looks back up from the phone. He hadn't realised until this exact moment, but Phil's hair was wrong, too. It was the same style as usual, but black again, just like it had been years ago. He was so used to Phil with black hair that, somehow, it didn't immediately register to him that his Phil was blonde now.
"How did this even happen?" Dan asks, not to anyone in particular, quickly spiralling further into a full-blown panic attack.
Phil goes unusually still beside him. "Wait."
Dan turns to him. Phil's usually expressive face is almost completely blank. Dan knows him well enough to know what even this means.
"You know something," He says, but it's not a question.
"Well…" Phil starts. "I don't know anything. But I have a theory."
He pauses, presumably for dramatic effect. Dan is not in the fucking mood.
"Spit it out."
"Okay, sorry," Phil says, seemingly snapping back into their reality - because that's what this was: their reality. It wasn't a tv show or a youtube video or some sort of strange fan-fiction on the internet. This was happening. "I don't know why, but I had a dream about the punk aesthetic video last night. I know you don't believe in anything, like, at all, but could that really be a coincidence?"
Dan sighs. "I don't know."
"I think maybe when we go to bed tonight we'll go back to normal," Phil says, and Dan has no proof in favour of that idea, but for once, he's willing to believe it until he has proof against it.
"Okay," Dan says, then hesitates for a second. "Shall we have some fun with it then?"
Phil raises an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"
⟡˚‧₊*.☯︎.*₊‧˚⟡
Thankfully, the two of them had nothing important planned for the day.
(Although, having said that, they were masters of getting out of things, so it probably didn't matter.)
Instead, they decide to spend the day using whatever weird circumstances the universe had decided to provide them with that morning to pull off an elaborate prank.
They got dressed up in the most punk-rock clothes they - or, let's face it, Dan - owned, and headed into their office.
Y'know, the one they use for filming.
While Phil sets up the camera, Dan gets to work opening up the sims and adjusting every single one of their characters to be as visually similar to the two of them, aesthetics-wise, as he possibly could.
The plan was simple. They'd film a video, maybe exploring a new job for one of the sims or something, in their… surprising get-ups, and simply not explain it. They'd edit it that night, have it ready to go up at a moment's notice, and when they wake up tomorrow - hopefully back to normal - they'll upload it and watch as the internet descends into chaos.
Genius.
Shame it wasn't April 1st, really.
They film for about 45 minutes, not really caring about how long the finished video ends up, and start editing over a takeaway pizza.
By the time it's done, the sun is beginning to set, so they make their evening cups of tea and head to bed to watch a few episodes of whatever reality tv show they were currently binging before they go to sleep.
Despite the way it started, it had been a pretty fun day. They'd decided not to let it get to them, clinging to the theory that Phil's dreams had somehow influenced this, and that they'd be back to normal tomorrow.
As they settle down for bed, Phil decides to speak up.
"You know, you make a very hot punk."
Dan swats his arm lightheartedly. "Shut up."
"What, you're not going to return the sentiment?" Phil mocks.
"You know I'm a weak, weak man when it comes to you with black hair," Dan sighs, but he's smiling.
Phil beams. "Yeah, I do. But I'll never get tired of hearing you say it."
That's the last thing either of them say before they drift off into an uncertain sleep.
⟡˚‧₊*.☯︎.*₊‧˚⟡
The first thing Dan notices when he wakes up is his hair.
More specifically, the lack of it.
And, okay, listen. He knows he's just had a haircut, and maybe his new mullet style would take a little bit of getting used to, but something about it just feels… wrong.
Cautiously, he raises a hand to the side of his head.
He gasps, bolting upright, loud enough to wake Phil who had been asleep beside him.
Phil groans. "We're not in a time loop are we?"
"No," Dan says.
"Are we still… wrong?" Phil asks, still half-asleep.
"No," Dan repeats. "No, we're normal again."
Phil opens his eyes at that, as if he doesn't actually believe Dan.
Just like he had yesterday, Dan pulls his phone out, allowing them both to see themselves.
Sure enough, Dan is no longer sporting a red mohican, shaved sides, and a chest tattoo. He's brunette, curly-haired, mullet absolutely flourishing, if he does say so himself, and the only marks on his chest are freckles. Phil's hair has returned to blonde, his skin no longer doused in ink, face not only clear of the silver jewellery and black dagger that had made Dan's heart stutter not twenty-four-hours prior, but also clear of any indication they had ever been there at all.
Phil lets out a laugh so sudden Dan actually, unironically, jumps.
"What?" He asks.
Phil looks at him. "You'll never guess what I dreamt about last night."
⟡˚‧₊*.☯︎.*₊‧˚⟡