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If there was one thing Dan knew for certain, it was that he would never tire of watching Phil dance.
If there was one thing their audience thought they knew for certain, however, it was that every single week, Dan was impartial at best.
Well. Their audience, save for a small minority.
You see, there were some Strictly Come Dancing fans, usually the younger, more open-minded type, who had their suspicions about him and Phil.
There weren't enough of them to be a concern, not really, just enough for the two of them to know their secret wasn't exactly… well, a secret. At least, not to everyone.
Every week, without fail, this group of Strictly enjoyers wouldn't really watch for the dancing. They'd watch for Dan's witty feedback, sarcastic sense of humour, and brutal rating style. They'd watch for Phil's flamboyant movements on the stage, his nervous demeanour when he received his feedback, and the way his coordination seemed to leave his body as quickly as the music leaves the room.
The thing they'd watch most for, though, was just a few specific seconds.
Phil had danced. The applause had died down. The room itself seemed to pause.
"The judges have their scores," The voiceover would announce.
One by one, the first three would be revealed.
Then, finally, "Daniel Howell."
Dan and Phil's eyes would meet, through camera and screen.
He'd give his score.
It wasn't the number that was shocking, no - it was rare for anyone to get above a 5 or 6 from the Daniel Howell - the thing that had everyone so enticed was the way he delivered it.
Every week, for Phil's score and only Phil's score, Dan's fingers would tap the sign as he held it up. Three times, always.
The fans had their conspiracies, of course. They'd watch the way the two of them interacted during the feedback, and the way Phil seemed to hold his breath specifically for Dan's score reveal - though, okay, that last part wasn't necessarily out of the ordinary for any of the dancers.
There were suggestions of it being a secret code, or some sort of unconscious tic that happened to only show up for Phil. Most people just thought it was a coincidence.
Sat in the comfort of his own home, Dan lets out a laugh as he scrolls through this week's onslaught of theories.
"You're never going to believe this," He calls out to the other room. "They think the taps are because I secretly think everyone deserves a three for every dance ever."
A responding chuckle is heard from the kitchen, where Phil had gone to fetch some water for the two of them.
"That's because you're the harshest judge in Strictly history."
"Not that harsh!" Dan squaks. "If I could, I'd give you a 10 every week."
It's then Phil returns to the room. Dan thanks him for the drink as he settles down in his arms.
"Then maybe you're overcompensating," Phil suggests, completely deadpan.
Dan barks out a laugh. "Yeah, maybe." He presses a kiss to the top of Phil's head. "Or maybe you're just the best there is."
"Yeah, or that," Phil laughs.
⋆ ♪˚. ⋆ 𝄞 ⋆ .˚♪ ⋆
The next week, Phil is dancing the quickstep.
Phil hates the quickstep.
He's obviously nervous as he and Dan head into the studio together, but Dan knows it's best not to bring it up.
Despite the fact no-one but a small portion of their fanbase are actually aware of their relationship, they don't talk about work unless it's the off season, or a quick comment here or there about how their day went, or something funny that'll cheer them both up.
Phil had broken the rule the day before show day.
He'd spent at least half an hour complaining about the partner he'd been given this year, even though he knows that's unfair of him, but no matter how hard he tried, Phil simply couldn't get him to understand the concepts of the dance.
And, did he mention, Phil hates the quickstep?
Realistically, he knew that as a professional dancer for Strictly, there really shouldn't be any dances he actively dislikes doing. That doesn't make him enjoy the quickstep any more than he does.
Which is none. For the record.
It was the dance that, for some reason, blurred the lines between dancing and simply existing the most for Phil, who famously lacked all coordination in any setting that wasn't a rehearsal studio or a dance-floor.
His feet would move too quickly, his body would twist wrong, and he'd end up getting all caught up. And now he has a dancer who has not mastered the dance.
There was a very real chance the competition would be over for Phil tonight.
Dan knew that.
Phil definitely knew that.
They didn't speak about it.
They made their way to work, got dressed up, and prepared to put on a show.
⋆ ♪˚. ⋆ 𝄞 ⋆ .˚♪ ⋆
Phil and his partner performed sixth.
It went about as well as could be expected.
Phil, to his credit, did not trip over his own feet despite his anxiety. His partner, though, was spaced wrong, had incorrect posture, and even forgot a step of the dance.
There was nothing that could be done about it now.
Dan is the first of the judges to give his feedback.
Usually, he goes into the weekend on a blank slate, but after seeing how emotionally wound-up this routine had Phil, his mindset isn't what it usually is.
"Your timing was exceptional," He starts. "Your dancing is clearly very musically capable. If you were to be caught out at any stage by that, it would be today, so well done. You had a few mistakes, as I'm sure you're aware, but your personality really shone through with this dance. I must give praise to you, Phil, you've choreographed this excellently to match your partner's style. Very well done."
Phil is caught off-guard by the overwhelmingly positive feedback. Had Dan just… surely not. Right?
"Thank you," He says, but he's not really paying attention anymore.
The other judges give their reviews, and Phil moves through it all on autopilot, still trying to figure out whether he's gone crazy or Dan is actually abandoning his harsh facade in order to provide Phil with some comfort.
They say their last thank yous and head up the stairs.
Phil's mind is still elsewhere.
It's not long before the scores come in.
The first is a 3. It's not a great start, but it's the one Phil had been expecting.
A 2 next.
Another 3.
Phil holds his breath.
Dan lifts the sign.
A 5.
Phil actually gasps out loud before he can stop himself.
He doesn't take his eyes of the screen, though. His moment is coming up.
Sure enough, Dan's index finger lifts. He taps the sign 3 times.
Phil feels himself smile wide.
13 total.
It's not a lot, but it might just be enough.
⋆ ♪˚. ⋆ 𝄞 ⋆ .˚♪ ⋆
Phil and his partner make it through.
Just.
It's been four weeks since then, and they've finally been knocked out.
They made it to the eighth week. Phil will take it.
As is tradition, the Monday following a Strictly knock out is not for moping.
Phil spends it dancing.
It might seem a little odd to the outside world - spending his first day of a clear schedule doing the very thing he'd been doing non-stop since September, but it was his sacred ritual, and there was no way he planned on stopping it now.
He'd wake up early, usually around 7am, and head down to the basement studio him and Dan shared. He'd do a more thorough warm-up than was really necessary, aiming to stretch out any and all residual stress and emotion that came with the final dance of the season.
Then, he'd start up the music, and he'd dance.
The whole day would be spent working his way through his favourite choreographies, and eventually, once Dan had awoken from his slumber, he'd come down and join in.
Phil hated the losing day on Strictly, but by god did he love the Monday after.
It was his chance to remind himself why he loves dancing, why it's his life's passion, and why holding on to that tether is more important than any competition - Strictly or not - ever would be.
By midday, Phil is ready to wrap things up.
He's just finished one of his absolute favourite routines, a ballroom choreography which required Dan to lift him in beautifully complex and intimate ways, the push and pull of their bodies creating an emotional rhythm that could be heard best by the heart.
The last notes of the music ring out through the room, and Dan places Phil carefully back on the ground, both of them breathing heavy.
"That was incredible," Dan says. "You were beautiful."
Cheekily, Phil turns to him. "Score?"
Dan laughs as Phil passes him his water bottle. "I think you already know."
"I want to hear it."
"Okay," Dan says, clearing his throat dramatically as he puts on his judge voice. "Ten."
Phil jumps up and down, celebrating with Dan as if he were on the balcony with him receiving the score instead of in their basement messing around.
"Oh my god!" He exclaims. "Dan, did you hear that? We got a ten!"
Dan joins in on the act. He grabs Phil by the waist and spins him around in the air with ease, laughing as he does so.
"I can't believe it!" He says, placing Phil down again, but not breaking the embrace.
Phil leans closer into Dan's chest, the humour making way for affection. He wraps his arms around Dan's torso, pulling him impossibly closer, breathing him in.
He smiles as he feels Dan's hand on the small of his back.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I. Love. You.
⋆ ♪˚. ⋆ 𝄞 ⋆ .˚♪ ⋆