Archive of Our Own

Dan’s still a bit unsure about his roommate. He’s been here a week, and while he seems nice enough, they’ve barely interacted. They greet each other when they find themselves in the same space, maybe make meaningless small talk for a minute at best, but that’s the extent of it. Dan doesn’t know much about Phil, and Phil doesn’t know much about him.

Honestly, Dan likes it that way.

It’s going to take time for him to get used to living with yet another stranger, but he hopes that, once the awkwardness fades, they can continue this same pattern of barely seeing each other. Dan would rather be living alone, though the rent in this area is simply too high for him to afford that right now. Someday, he plans to make it happen.

Until then, he needs a roommate. He’s had several in the past, each of whom had their own quirks that really weren’t compatible with how Dan lived. Some kept trying to hang around him, and others always had company over… nothing ever seemed to work out.

Except this Phil guy seems okay, at least for right now. He leaves Dan alone, doesn’t come knocking on his bedroom door, and he’s also good about not playing music too loud. Sometimes Dan hears him laugh when he’s on the phone, but he finds that doesn’t bother him. He has to give some grace, anyway, when he knows how quickly he can lose control over his volume when gaming.

So far Phil hasn’t complained about that yet, to Dan’s relief.

Dan wonders if they’ll ever chat properly, or if this is how it’s going to be until either of them moves out. Not that he cares, of course; after all, this is what he prefers. He’s just curious. And maybe he wants to know what Phil’s like simply because of that curiosity. It doesn’t mean he wants to be friends with him, he reasons. It’s merely an instinct to be inquisitive.

Phil also doesn’t seem inclined to interact. There are times when he opens his mouth if they’re together, though he never goes on to say anything. Maybe he’s nervous, or maybe he’d rather keep to himself as much as Dan.

Either way, Dan doesn’t mind.

Well, maybe a little. Especially as time passes and he still doesn’t see Phil often.

But he doesn’t let himself think about that.

It’s more that he’s speculating about why he doesn’t run into Phil more frequently when they share a relatively small space. It kind of feels to Dan like he’s being avoided, and that doesn’t sit right with him. As much as he loves being alone, he also doesn’t want to be seen as someone who can’t be approached. If Phil has a question, or simply wants to have a short conversation just to get a little bit of human interaction, Dan wouldn’t mind.

He hopes Phil’s not evading him because he’s put the other off in some way. That’s not what he wants at all.

When over a month has passed and Phil still seems to be dodging any and all interactions with Dan, Dan decides to do something about it. Does Phil feel unwelcome here? Does he think Dan’s scary or mean? Dan would rather not be perceived in a way that’s not true to his character. Maybe he can get a bit snappy sometimes or be in a sour mood, but he hasn’t been that way with Phil.

He quite literally hasn’t been given an opportunity to be.

Dan’s first thought is that he should go right up to Phil’s door and knock, demanding that the other talk to him and explain why he’s got this aversion to Dan’s presence, before he thinks better of it. That’s probably not the most productive way to go about this. In fact, it will most definitely push Phil away even more; maybe even cause Phil to abandon ship completely.

And it’s a pain to find a suitable roommate, so Dan would rather not have that.

The first good idea he has is to hang out in the lounge instead of hiding away in his bedroom. Phil has to come out at some point, either to get food or head off to his job, so Dan thinks this should, in theory, do the trick. He works remotely, only having to go into the office once or twice a month, and it’s easy enough to bring his laptop to the sofa rather than sitting at the desk in his room.

It’s strange when Dan feels eager about the whole prospect. Since when has he been excited to interact with someone? And yet, he is. He supposes it’s because he has a goal in mind that he wants to achieve, and when Dan sets his mind on doing something, it takes a lot for him to abandon it.

His first attempt doesn’t exactly go as planned. Dan sits on the sofa all day. Sometimes he works, and sometimes he just watches random YouTube videos. It’s the weekend, so technically he really doesn’t have to get much done.

It also means Phil doesn’t have to leave for his job.

Additionally, the man doesn’t even come out of his room to eat, which makes Dan wonder if he’s got a secret snack stash.

But again, the question is why. How could Phil possibly know that Dan’s out here when the only noises he’s made have been huffs of laughter? A sound that can’t be heard through the walls. They may be thin, but they aren’t that thin. He has his headphones in, too, because he’s been worried about this exact thing happening.

Dan isn’t giving up that easily, so he does it again on Monday. He makes sure to wake up extra early, something that would be absolutely horrid to him in any other instance, and resumes his place on the sofa. He’s only slightly aware of the time Phil usually wakes up, and he needs to be ready for whenever the other emerges.

Thankfully he hears Phil’s door creak open about twenty minutes after Dan’s sat down. Even though Dan knew Phil had to leave, he was slightly frightened that Phil could somehow sense he’s out here and would just… call out. Which is absurd to think about, because how can Phil hate him that much already?

When Phil steps into the lounge, his eyes immediately snap to Dan. Dan glances up to meet his gaze. Phil looks a bit startled and caught off guard, but there’s something else there. Something Dan can’t quite place.

“Morning,” he greets, the sleepiness in his voice evident.

“Morning,” Phil echoes, clearing his throat. “You’re not usually up this early.”

Dan feels his face flush at being called out like that. “Just thought I should get a head start on work,” he says, shrugging his shoulders in a way he hopes makes him look casual.

Phil smirks. “Sure.”

Dan wonders how on earth Phil can act like that when he’s clearly been avoiding Dan from the start. He won’t complain, as this is exactly what he wanted to happen. Well, maybe not being smirked at, which is somehow affecting him in a way he wasn’t expecting, but whatever.

Phil wanders over to their kitchen across the room, beginning to open up the cupboards. “Have you eaten anything yet?” He calls over his shoulder.

“Um, no,” Dan answers truthfully. He probably should have before making himself comfortable, but he was too anxious about this whole thing. He wanted to be prepared, and that meant not wasting time getting food.

“D’you want cereal?” Phil asks.

“I mean, yeah, but I can get it myself.”

Dan looks over in time to see Phil shaking his head, a motion that was probably meant for himself and not Dan. He also sees Phil reach up and grab two bowls, along with a box of Dan’s cereal, something Dan decides he won’t comment on right now. If Phil’s making him breakfast, as simple as it is, then he won’t mention how Phil is technically taking his cereal without asking.

Phil delivers the food soon after, handing one of the bowls to Dan, who takes it gratefully.

“Thank you.”

Now it’s Phil’s turn to shrug. “Just seemed more efficient.” With the way Phil hesitates where he’s standing, Dan half expects him to sit on the other end of the sofa.

But he doesn’t, and Dan can’t help feeling disappointed. Instead, Phil goes back to the kitchen, leaning against one of the counters while he eats. Dan can still turn his head to see him, though he figures staring Phil down isn’t exactly acceptable.

He doesn’t want to scare Phil off just as he’s started making progress with their relationship. What’s the point in getting up early if he screws up so soon?

Phil leaves shortly after, but not without collecting Dan’s empty bowl from him. A gesture that, unfortunately, makes Dan’s heart flutter a little.

He sighs. It really is the most basic acts of kindness that make him fond of someone.

With Phil gone, Dan’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. He has more work, of course, but should he stay out here, or should he go back to his room? Sitting at his desk would be better for his back, and he knows Phil won’t return for a while, so maybe that’s the best move. Dan can always go back to the sofa in the evening; it’s not going anywhere.

He stays in his room for the rest of the day, leaving only when his stomach grumbles for lunch. It’s only when he hears the front door open that he checks the time. Shit. Why has he waited until now? Scratch that, would it be weird for him to go out there the second Phil’s got back? Probably. But he has to see Phil before the other shuts himself away in his room until tomorrow.

Wait. Does he? Dan’s already broken the ice this morning, at least a little bit, so would it hurt for him to stay here until he’s ready for dinner? Maybe, or maybe not. If he repeats the same cycle as this morning, then probably not. He assumes Phil wants space after a long day, anyway.

It’s fine.

—

Dan gets up early again on Tuesday. It’s kind of nice, he decides, to wake up before midday. It makes him feel like a more put-together adult. Not entirely, because his reason for it is perhaps a bit odd, but oh well. At least there’s an added benefit.

He rolls out of bed and gets dressed. Sort of. He refuses to put on jeans when he doesn’t plan on leaving the flat, so he sticks to sweats and a comfy shirt before making his way out to the sofa. He nestles into the same spot as yesterday and opens his laptop. He could get used to this; it’s actually rather refreshing to not be cooped up in his bedroom.

He hears Phil shuffling around a bit sooner than yesterday, though that probably doesn’t mean much. What does a few minutes matter, anyway?

Phil looks way too good than Dan reckons anyone should in the morning. He’s dressed similarly to before, business casual attire, and yet there’s something different. Something about the way he’s carrying himself, maybe; his posture looks slightly more confident. Not by a lot, but just enough that it’s noticeable.

“Is this our new routine?” Phil asks, one eyebrow raised.

“I mean, it can be. Unless you want me to shut myself away in my room again.” Dan tries to laugh, hoping to disguise his fear that Phil will actually agree with him.

Phil frowns. “Of course not. You live here; you can do whatever you want.”

“So can you,” Dan says pointedly.

“I— Yeah. I know.”

“Do you?”

Phil chews on his lip. “It’s just a bit weird,” he begins slowly, “living with someone who isn’t family.”

Dan tilts his head. “Didn’t you live with people at uni?”

“Yeah, but a few of them were friends from home. That made it easier.”

“I can be your friend,” Dan says quietly, and not at all on purpose. His eyes go big before he turns deliberately back to his computer and pretends to start typing. Really, it’s just gibberish.

All he hears is a murmured “Sure,” before Phil moves away. He can’t tell what the other’s tone implies, and he doesn’t get to see the way the corners of Phil’s mouth twitch.

There’s noise in the kitchen soon after, the clanking of bowls and rustle of cereal that are already familiar. All Dan can do is stare at his screen. He’s not sure why the statement flustered him so much. After all, it seems he wouldn’t mind Phil being his friend, but even so. It feels weird to admit out loud. Friendships usually form more organically than someone saying “be my friend.”

Not that Dan has much proof or evidence to show for it.

Before he can spiral too much and assume the worst of the situation, Phil appears behind the sofa. His arm is outstretched, hand holding a bowl of cereal that Dan carefully takes. He smiles a little, nervous, and very much relieved when Phil returns it.

Once again, however, he doesn’t join Dan on the sofa; he goes straight back to the kitchen and resumes the same position he did before. He glances over at Dan once, and they hold eye contact for a few seconds before looking away.

Dan can’t help grinning to himself.

He gets up when his bowl is empty this time, bringing it over to the sink to wash it out before loading it in the dishwasher. Phil doesn’t move, even as Dan has to get in his space. It’s… nice. The proximity. Dan likes it.

Which is maybe weird, considering there’s still not a lot Dan knows about his roommate, though he finds he doesn’t mind too much. Phil’s nice, respectful except for when he takes Dan’s cereal, so Dan is fine about feeling at ease with the man already. It’s clear the other doesn’t actually hate him, which is a relieving discovery.

Dan goes back to his spot on the sofa after, figuring he’s lingered in Phil’s presence for long enough. He’d rather not push his luck with the whole befriending thing; not when he’s gotten this far. There’s still a long way to go, but now he’s determined. It’s a shift, to say the least, from his thoughts only two days ago.

“I’ll see you later?” Phil’s voice lilts up at the end, as if he’s expecting Dan to have moved out by the time his shift is over.

Dan turns his head to look at him. “I’ll be here.”

Phil nods his head once before grabbing his bag and leaving.

Well, now Dan’s made a promise. Sort of. Phil asked to see him later, and Dan agreed, so now he has to honor that. Naturally, Dan doesn’t mind; he’d wanted to see Phil last night too, but this time he has to keep an eye on the clock so he doesn’t miss his roommate’s return.

Unless he stays where he is, which is definitely the safer option.

And it’s exactly what Dan decides to do.

He gets up to eat and use the bathroom, of course, and sometimes stands up simply to stretch out his back, but apart from that, he’s content to sit and work. Or get distracted and scroll through his Instagram feed. Then, when he gets bored of that, switching to Tumblr.

He does this for two hours, only stopping when he hears Phil’s entry into their flat.

Dan regrets his decision to doomscroll the moment he sees Phil. He looks drained, exhausted, and like he desperately needs to sit down or he’s going to fall asleep standing up. Dan wishes he had the foresight to make dinner, or at least get it started, instead of sitting here doing nothing productive.

It makes him feel like shit.

To do something he hopes is helpful, Dan gets up quickly and goes to take Phil’s work bag from him, hanging it on the hook by the door. He’s not sure what else he’s supposed to do, but Phil seems like he’s in some sort of trance, so Dan guides him over to the sofa and makes him lie down so his legs are also stretched across the furniture.

Phil groans in relief, his entire body melting into the cushions below him. He looks more comfortable now, and it makes Dan feel proud that he was able to be useful.

Then he kind of just… stares at Phil. His eyes are closed, expression becoming more relaxed as time passes. It’s adorable, really, how—

No. Not adorable. Something else that’s less endearing. Nice, maybe. It’s nice that Phil’s mellowing out. That’s better.

Phil blinks up at Dan, only for a moment, before he smiles a little and shuts his eyes again.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“Hey yourself. Why are you all…” Dan gestures with his hands before realizing Phil can’t see him. 

Phil seems to understand what he’s getting at anyway.

“Work is bullshit, and traveling back is even worse. There are just so many people, and they’re always bumping into me, and—” Phil stops, sighing. “Sorry,” he says, blowing out a long breath before opening his eyes.

Dan shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. You’re allowed to complain.”

Phil pouts a little. “I don’t like doing it, though. I don’t like being negative.”

Dan moves so he can sit at the other end of the sofa. “Sometimes it’s okay to vent, you know. It can be a good thing. Just to, like, relieve stress and all that.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Phil tilts his head down so he can peer at Dan properly. “Feels weird when it’s to a complete stranger.”

“I’m not a complete stranger. We’ve lived together for, what, a month and a half?”

Phil shrugs a shoulder. “Still don’t know much about you.”

Dan considers this, deciding he won’t point out the fact that it’s partially Phil’s fault. “I like dogs.”

“That’s a good start. Me too.”

“I also like video games.”

“Which ones?”

Dan hums. “I’m a big Final Fantasy nerd, and Pokémon. Oh, and I’m great at Mario Kart. I get a bit aggressive, though.”

“All good choices,” Phil agrees, “but I’m most curious about the aggressive part.”

“Play a game with me and you’ll find out. When you’re not dead on your feet, of course,” Dan says, chancing his luck that Phil will agree to properly hang out with him.

Phil grins. “Sounds good.”

Dan lets the relief flood over him. Phil actually wants to spend time together. It’s a great feeling to know that Phil’s at least somewhat uninterested in avoiding him again. He does wonder, though, if what Phil told him earlier is all there is to it. If he kept himself distant simply because he’s living with a stranger. Which is fine, of course, if that’s the case; Dan’s just curious.

“What d’you want to eat?” He asks after a short pause. “I would’ve made something if I knew you’d be—”

Phil cuts him off. “Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t expect you to do that.”

Dan shrugs. He disagrees, but that doesn’t matter right now. “Does pizza sound good?”

“Pizza always sounds good.”

“Good.” Dan takes out his phone, quickly opening up the delivery app. “What toppings do you like?”

“Mm, I’m good with most things. Except mushrooms. Or olives. Fuck olives.”

Dan looks at Phil, his mouth dropping open. “What?” He sounds incredulous, because he is. “Next you’re going to tell me you don’t like mayo or some shit.”

Phil’s face scrunches up.

“You’re kidding,” Dan huffs, turning back to his phone. “Fine, then. No mushrooms, no olives.”

“Anything else is fine, I swear.”

Dan sighs. “What other foods don’t you like? Just for future reference.”

Phil bites his lip. “I can’t tell you. You’re going to make fun of me.”

“How bad could it possibly be? You’ve already broken my heart.”

“Well, most soups, for one. Also— also tomatoes, and…”

“And?” Dan prompts. Phil mutters something unintelligible under his breath. “What was that?”

“Cheese,” Phil admits a bit louder. “I don’t like cheese.”

Dan gapes at him. “You do know that tomatoes and cheese are two staples of pizza, right?”

Phil sits up, looking like he’s well and truly ready to defend himself. There’s a renewed vigor that definitely wasn’t there when he stepped into their flat. It’s as if all that exhaustion has vanished, at least for the moment.

“Yes, but the toppings block all of that out, you know? It’s different from just raw cheese or tomatoes.”

“I… guess. Whatever makes you feel better.” Dan pats Phil’s shin a couple of times, not really thinking.

Phil gets a funny look on his face, which is quickly replaced by a more neutral one in the blink of an eye. It changes so fast that Dan barely notices it, and although he does, he doesn’t give it much thought.

Dan returns to his task of ordering them food, including potato wedges and all the dips he can possibly get. It isn’t a perfect meal without them, and Phil deserves to see what he’s signed up for when he agreed to live here. Not that he can back out of it now, so maybe preparing him is a better way to describe it.

They don’t talk until the food arrives. Phil goes back to relaxing on the sofa, his tired demeanor returning, and Dan decides to give him the peace he deserves, opting to scroll mindlessly on his phone. It’s pleasant to sit in silence like this with someone; Dan’s never really done that before. There’s always this need for noise, but Dan finds that he doesn’t feel that way now. In fact, he feels like this is right. Like he and Phil should exist this way more.

Dan doesn’t necessarily appreciate that revelation, but is he going to do anything about it? Of course not.

A knock at the door disrupts the hush of the room, and Dan gets up automatically to answer it. He tips the delivery person and takes the food gratefully, knowing full well the look he gets is judgment for all the dips he’s gotten. Which is fine; Dan’s used to it by now.

It would probably be useful for him to have a profile with the bio: Always orders every single dip, sorry.

Phil is sitting up again when Dan returns to the sofa and sits down, distributing their food across the coffee table. He looks far more awake again, eyeing the boxes hungrily.

“You got more than pizza,” he comments.

“Wedges are an essential.”

“So are dips, apparently.”

Dan turns to Phil, a very serious expression on his face. “Dips are the most important thing. I will never love anything more than I do dips.”

Phil raises an eyebrow. “That’s a bit extreme, no?”

“You just don’t understand, Phil,” Dan says with a sigh. “But you will; I’m going to indoctrinate you.”

Phil snorts. “I can’t wait,” he mutters, perhaps a tad too sincerely.

Dan grins. “As if you have any choice.”

He has to get up once more to retrieve plates, and then they allocate the food. Phil indulges Dan in trying out several of the dips, eventually admitting that it is a pleasant experience, to which Dan smiles triumphantly.

“Told you.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He tilts his head inquisitively. “What’s your favorite dip?”

Dan gapes at Phil, pressing a hand to his heart. “It would be blasphemy to answer that question,” he says with a shake of his head. “I can’t believe you asked me that.”

Phil looks frightened for a fraction of a second until he realizes Dan’s not actually serious, and breathes a sigh of relief. Then, he assumes an expression of sorrow and exaggerated regret. It’s the last thing Dan expects, really. For Phil to play into this whole thing.

“I am so sorry,” Phil says, and it sounds earnest. “I wasn’t thinking. Please, Dan, please forgive me.” He grabs one of Dan’s hands with both of his, and Dan has to ignore the jolt it sends up his arm.

Dan sighs, feigning contemplation about whether he should accept Phil’s apology. “I suppose I can,” he finally answers. “On one condition, though.”

“Anything.”

In any other instance, Dan would make a joke, but he’s too far in character with this that the thought doesn’t even cross his mind.

“You have to pay next time and order all of the dips.”

Phil nods his head solemnly, agreeing to his fate. “If that’s what it takes to win your favor, then I accept these terms.”

“Good,” Dan approves. “As long as you promise to appreciate dips from now on, we shouldn’t have a problem.”

It’s clear Phil’s fighting off a smile when he says, “I promise I will. My eyes have been opened, and I thank you for it.”

Dan giggles then, pulling his hand free from Phil’s grip. Not that he wants to, but since the scene is done he reckons the contact has stopped being appropriate.

“Thank you for humoring me.”

Phil hums. “Was kinda fun. Were you a theater kid?”

“Very much so.”

“Tell me about it?”

Dan can’t deny the request, so he dives into retellings of all the amusing stories he can remember, answering Phil’s questions along the way. He wasn’t expecting it to be this easy talking to someone he’s only had a few interactions with, and yet it is. It feels impossible for their dynamic to form so seamlessly, but Dan doesn’t hate it in the least.

He’d started this whole thing because he was determined to not be the scary roommate and, once that was established, he’d return to being all mysterious and keep to himself. Now, though. Now he wants Phil as a part of his life where he isn’t just a background character.

—

It’s the following day when Dan decides to switch it up. He still rises at the same time, still goes out to the lounge, only he doesn’t head straight for the sofa: he goes to the kitchen.

Phil’s made him breakfast two days in a row now, and Dan thinks it’s only fair for him to return the favor. Besides, it shows he’s a thoughtful roommate just as much as Phil is. And, if he wants to befriend this guy, that’s an important trait to establish. Phil also had an exhausting day yesterday, and Dan suspects that’s going to translate over to this morning, too.

All the more reason for him to be considerate.

Cereal seems too basic; too rudimentary. Dan wants to do something more than that. Not that he doesn’t appreciate Phil making him a bowl, but he wants to make this special in a way that shows how grateful he is.

Which is hard. Dan’s not a chef or anything close to it, so coming up with a meal that’s more complex than cereal is hard. He can do eggs and toast, though, so that’ll have to do. It’s the thought that counts anyway, right?

He can only hope those foods aren’t on Phil’s list of things he hates.

Dan’s roommate has perfect timing, as he’s just plating up their breakfast when Phil makes an appearance. Dan turns around to face him, now slightly anxious that Phil will reject the meal. Not that he should be. In theory, after last night, Dan would consider them on the path to friendship. Still, people are unpredictable, so he’s worried.

“You made breakfast,” Phil states, as if he’s trying to wrap his mind around it.

“I did.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I did anyway.”

Phil shakes his head. “You already got dinner last night.”

Dan shrugs a shoulder. “And you made me breakfast yesterday morning, and the morning before that.” He thinks for a moment. “Not that it’s a competition.”

“Why?”

“Why’s it not a competition? Because—”

“No, not that. What’s the real reason you cooked?”

Dan raises his eyebrows. “I wanted to? You had a long day yesterday; I figured this might help.” He bites his lip. “Do you actually not like eggs?”

“No, no,” Phil answers quickly. “Eggs are good. And toast. I just…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “Thank you.”

Dan wants to ask more questions, because is it really that weird for him to make Phil breakfast? The other has literally done that for him; it’s the entire point of all this.

“Sure,” Dan says, uncertain if any other words need to be spoken. He plates up their food, still warm, and lets Phil choose what he wants to put on his toast.

Phil leans against the counter to eat, as he always seems to, and this time Dan joins him. He considers going back to the sofa, considers keeping this pattern the same for a little longer, only he doesn’t want to. He’d rather enjoy this close proximity to Phil instead of being further away. They don’t know each other, not yet, but even so there’s something calming about it.

Dan notices Phil shift a little at this new development. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, just a tad bit startled. Dan doesn’t press them together shoulder to shoulder, obviously, he just stands by the other counter and eats away while he pretends this is all very normal. He tries not looking at Phil; too scared that it’ll prompt some conversation that draws attention to what he’s doing. Dan can see out of the corner of his eye, however, that Phil is watching him.

It’s kind of distracting, and Dan finds himself fumbling with his food. It must look incredibly unattractive, and Dan’s surprised when Phil doesn’t look away. Which is odd, because surely this isn’t a pleasant sight.

Not that he’s trying to impress Phil in that way; he just doesn’t want to be gross.

They eat in silence; Phil never speaks despite his careful observation of Dan. It’s a little odd to be looked at so intently, but Dan finds that he eventually gets used to it. It can’t be a bad thing, right? Not if Phil hasn’t said anything. Dan’s overthinking. That’s all. It’s something he’s done countless times in the past, and it’s something he’s sure he’ll continue to do until the day he dies.

“Well,” he says when he finishes eating, breaking the quiet of the room. 

Phil jumps a little at the noise. Dan sees him blink rapidly a few times before smiling a little. Timidly, maybe. “Thank you for making breakfast. For me.”

Dan smiles right back, a bit more confidently. “It just seemed more efficient.”

He rinses off his own plate and fork before putting them in the dishwasher, and then he holds out his hand for Phil’s.

Phil stares at him again, and Dan wonders how many times his roommate is going to fall into a trance like that. It doesn’t take too long for Phil to catch up with what’s happening, just a few extra seconds, then he gives Dan his dishes.

“Thank you,” he says again.

Dan shrugs. “You don’t have to keep saying that.”

“It’s not— I—” Phil lets out a long breath. “I thought you hated me.”

“What?” Dan exclaims, whipping his head to look at Phil in utter disbelief.

Phil chuckles. “I mean, you didn’t exactly make an effort to interact with me until a couple of days ago.”

“You thought that meant I hated you?”

“Maybe not that extreme, but yeah.”

Dan shakes his head. “I thought you didn’t like me. That’s why I… Well, I wanted to find out if that was true.”

Phil’s eyes go wide. “Definitely not true.” He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, before promptly shutting it again. Dan raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push it.

“Good to know,” he says, more than relieved. “And, for the record, I don’t hate you either.”

Phil grins cheekily. “So I gathered. You know, after dinner and breakfast and all that.”

Dan huffs, pushing at Phil’s shoulder. “Shut up. You’re going to be late for work.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. Forgot about that.”

“Idiot.”

Phil glares at Dan before turning away to retrieve his stuff. It doesn’t take long, and before Dan knows it, Phil has his bag slung across his shoulder as he stands in front of the door. He glances back at Dan with parted lips.

Dan smiles, suddenly feeling shy for a reason he’s unsure of. “I’ll see you later,” he says, answering Phil’s unasked question.

Phil nods a few times. “Okay.”

He looks as though he’s biting back a smile of his own, and Dan grins to himself the moment his roommate leaves. There’s something about the verbal confirmation that settles any remaining nerves he had. Phil doesn’t hate him. Likes him, even, and while Dan could have gathered that after last night, he prefers Phil saying it directly.

Dan does go back to his room this time. He finds it easier to concentrate in there, and that’s what he needs today. He knows he’s been slacking off with work a bit lately, and he can’t be having that. Not if he wants to stay here.

Which he doesn’t, not forever, but he does want to live with Phil.

—

It becomes their routine easily: Dan wakes up before Phil and sits on the sofa, and a few minutes later Phil emerges from his room. They exchange greetings, and then Phil’s off to the kitchen. Dan gets up immediately to follow him, making them both cups of coffee while Phil gets food. Sometimes Dan helps, like if they’re starving for something other than cereal. They talk all the while, and it feels to Dan like they’ve been doing this ever since they became roommates.

Which is weird; Dan’s never had that before. They have similar interests, similar tastes in music, and it seems the only way they really differ is in their aesthetics. Dan loves it, don’t get him wrong, it’s just something to get used to. Phil doesn’t make fun of him in a way that hurts, he laughs at Dan’s jokes, and Dan… Dan’s never enjoyed hanging around someone as much as he enjoys hanging around Phil.

It’s why he always makes sure to be out in the open when Phil gets back, even if he’s spent the day in his room. Whether it’s on the sofa, in the kitchen preparing dinner, or at their dining table where he’s mindlessly doodling little abstract shapes.

Okay, so he’s only done that once when he forgot to plug his computer in and it died, but still. The point is, he wants to see Phil as soon as possible. 

It all becomes even more domestic when Phil joins Dan in cooking after changing out of his work clothes. The space isn’t large, so they’re always pressed against each other in some way. A lot of the time, perhaps more than he should, Dan finds himself leaning into it. He would be embarrassed, only he notices Phil doing it, too.

Phil’s always freezing cold, and Dan’s always boiling hot, so he explains away both of their actions as them wanting to be at more comfortable temperatures.

Then, at the end of the night before retiring to their respective bedrooms, they watch TV. They tried gaming once, but the volume with which they (Dan) achieve is too much for the time of night it is. Neither wants to risk it despite no complaints coming in, and instead keep their gaming sessions to midday on weekends.

They make a long list of movies and shows they want to get through and, slowly, start checking them off. Phil’s the one who suggests it, both the list and watching TV together in general. It’s a surprise to Dan, but a welcome one. He’s glad Phil is also taking initiative with this whole friendship thing. It means a lot.

Phil has this calming presence about him that Dan loves to be around. He doesn’t want to be left alone when he’s with Phil, an insane concept which stirs up emotions in him that he’d rather not be feeling. Phil’s caring and funny, interesting and brilliant; Dan can’t go ruining the relationship they’re building by getting a crush.

It’s bound to end horribly if he ever acts on what he’s feeling, because why would Phil ever think that way about him? Dan’s too loud, too abrasive with his wording sometimes, and he can’t see how Phil could see him as anything more than a friend. Maybe a best friend, but that’s all.

Dan’s good at pushing down his emotions, for better or for worse, so that’s what he does.

Well, he tries to, as on a random Saturday, two months into this pattern of theirs, Phil comes out of his room in nothing more than a baggy t-shirt and his pants. Dan doesn’t register it at first, merely glancing up at Phil with a greeting on his tongue, before he has to do a double-take. So much skin is on show, and Dan freezes at the sight of it.

“Sorry,” Phil mumbles, rubbing at his tired-looking eyes. “Couldn’t find my sweats. I think they’re in the wash.”

Dan nods dumbly, incredibly thankful that Phil can’t see him trailing his eyes up and down the other’s body. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He simply doesn’t have that kind of restraint. Phil is here, gorgeous as ever, and wearing a lot less than what Dan usually sees him in.

He can’t get enough.

He’s startled from his thoughts when Phil clears his throat. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

Fuck.

Dan looks up at Phil immediately, certain that his face is beat red, only to see Phil has put his glasses on.

Double fuck.

Dan’s seen Phil in glasses before, though never when he’s just rolled out of bed. It’s a rare sight, in any case, as Phil usually opts for contacts. Which Dan also doesn’t mind; Phil is attractive either way, but his glasses… they’re something else.

“I, uh, yeah,” Dan stutters out. “Actually,” he continues, shoving his computer off his lap before standing up, “I think I forgot my charger in my room, so. I’ll be right back.”

He scurries out of the lounge and into his bedroom, shutting the door securely behind him. He knows his charger is already out there, and he knows Phil can so clearly see it, but it was the first excuse he could think of. He needed to get out of there, and fast.

Not that he wanted to. If he could, he’d stay there and ogle Phil for the rest of his life. Only, that’s not what their relationship is, and if Dan wants to protect his sanity, he had to leave.

Even if he’s made himself incredibly obvious and Phil hates him for it.

Dan does a running jump onto his bed, mashing his face into his pillow and groaning. He’s got to get a hold of himself, especially now that his body is taking interest in the fact that he’s just seen Phil close to naked, and now that image is burned into his eyelids. It’s all he sees, and it’s incredibly unhelpful.

He stays in his room for a long, long time. He could’ve gone back out, made a poor excuse that he’d forgotten he brought his charger with him, but he doesn’t. He just… he can’t face Phil after that. Or ever again, maybe, and Dan seriously considers going back to the way things were.

Except he really doesn’t want that. Phil is probably the most important person in his life right now. Dan likes him, and he treasures their friendship first and foremost. Any other feelings he harbors, he can get over. He has to. He risks ruining what they have if he doesn’t.

It’s those thoughts that force him to leave his room that evening.

Phil isn’t in the lounge or the kitchen, and Dan feels his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach. That was all the courage he had, coming out here, and now it’s vanished. He almost goes up to Phil’s door and knocks, then thinks better of it. Phil probably doesn’t even want to see him. Dan had said “be right back,” and then never returned.

He wouldn’t blame Phil for being pissed at him.

They usually spend their days off together, too, and now Dan’s gone and ruined that. He hopes Phil had a good day anyway. He deserves that much after Dan’s idiocy.

Dan plops himself on the sofa, because what else is he meant to do? Maybe Phil hasn’t had dinner yet, and he’ll be out of his room eventually. Dan will find out soon enough if that’s the case, so he waits.

His computer is still resting in the same place he left it when he ran, but he doesn’t move to open it. All he does is sit, stewing in all the things he thinks Phil is entitled to say to him. Which is a lot, and it keeps him entertained in the worst way possible.

To Dan’s delight, and nervousness, Phil’s door eventually opens. He hears the other’s footsteps approaching, preparing himself for what’s to come. The disappointment, the agitation.

Except the moment he makes eye contact with Phil, all of that melts away.

“Hi,” Phil says, looking a bit stunned to see Dan.

“Hey,” Dan replies, a bit sheepish. “I’m, uh, sorry about earlier.” It’s better to get it over with, he reasons. No point dancing around the elephant in the room.

Phil shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.”

“Why’d you run?”

Dan realizes then that he didn’t think about what he was going to say when Phil inevitably asked that question. He spent the whole day in his room, and yet never came up with the most important excuse of his life.

He bites his lip and looks away. “I can’t tell you,” he all but whispers.

Phil nods. “I won’t wander around in my pants anymore, if that helps.”

Dan chuckles breathily. “You don’t have to do that. It’s my own problem to deal with.” He sucks in a breath. That last sentence was entirely unnecessary, and probably too much.

Phil seems to get something else out of what Dan’s just said, though. Thankfully, or maybe not.

“So you want me to wander around in my pants?”

Dan looks up at Phil so fast he’s surprised his neck doesn’t break. When he sees Phil’s expression, it isn’t accusatory in any way. He seems almost… smug about the whole thing. Which is a lot better, but still not ideal for Dan’s confused heart. At least Phil’s joking around with him instead of being irritated.

He folds his arms in an attempt to come off nonchalant about the idea. “Definitely not what I said.”

Phil hums, wiggling his eyebrows a bit before his face levels out. “Seriously, though. Did it make you uncomfortable?”

Dan shakes his head slowly. “No.”

Something dawns in Phil’s eyes then. Recognition, maybe. Understanding. Whatever it is, Dan’s not entirely sure where it comes from or what Phil’s just realized.

He’s also too scared to ask.

Phil turns toward the kitchen. “Do we have leftovers from last night?”

Dan nods, a bit dazed at the easy change in topic. “I think so. Should be in the fridge.”

He hears Phil rummage around, listens to the sounds of dishes clanking and drawers opening. He focuses on his senses rather than reflecting on that whole interaction. He’ll save it for later, when he’s lying in bed trying to fall asleep but can’t because he’s too worried about what Phil thinks of him now.

When they get to eating, it’s normal. Perhaps a few more pauses between conversations than usual, but what they talk about isn’t different. Dan’s interested in what Phil’s saying, of course, only he can’t stop the need to ask one very specific question that he knows he shouldn’t.

He does anyway.

“What’d you do today?”

Phil pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth. He puts it down, back onto his plate, and looks over at Dan with an unreadable expression.

“I hung out in here.”

So many implications come with that statement. This is where Dan waits for Phil to show face, and now Phil’s done the same.

Only Dan never did.

“Oh.”

Phil smiles a little. Not sadly, but something close to it. “Yeah.”

“Now I feel like a dick.”

“It’s okay,” Phil says for the second time that night.

Dan wishes he would stop that. He doesn’t want Phil to excuse his actions. He’s glad Phil isn’t angry at him, but he’d almost prefer that to this. Phil’s just overlooking what Dan did, and maybe it’s because he’s all nice and lovely, but Dan’s not accepting that.

He shakes his head. “You should be mad at me.”

Phil cocks his head to the side. “Why do you say that?” He looks genuinely inquisitive, like he can’t possibly fathom why Dan thinks he should be pissed.

“I just kind of… abandoned you. For no good reason, and you waited here all day instead of doing something fun and enjoying your day off.”

“It wouldn’t have been fun without you.”

Dan chews on his lip. “That kind of makes it worse,” he mutters.

“We still have tomorrow,” Phil goes on as if he hasn’t heard Dan. “We can do something then. And tonight. There’s still time to watch something, if you want.”

“Yes,” Dan says immediately. It’s the easiest decision in the world, obviously. He gets to hang out with Phil while also making up for disappearing. Which Phil doesn’t seem to think needs any sort of repayment, but Dan does.

Phil grins, and Dan mentally slaps himself once more. He could have seen that smile a hundred times today if he’d just stayed. Ignored his embarrassment and played it off somehow. But he won’t dwell on it now; he’s got an evening of watching television with Phil to focus on instead.

He lets Phil choose, because of course he does, and he pretends to be exasperated when Phil picks out something silly from their list when really he’s thrilled. Dan wants something easy to watch, something that makes them both laugh either because of the comedy or because the film is so terrible it’s good.

He wants Phil to be happy because then, by extension, Dan is also happy.

—

If someone told a younger version of Dan that there would come a day when he enjoyed waking up early, he’d have told them to shut up and fuck off. Getting up is supposed to suck, right? Unless there’s something to look forward to that genuinely makes leaving bed worth it.

It’s been a long time since Dan’s experienced that, but now he does. Daily.

His body stirs naturally, even on the weekends when Phil sleeps in, which is fine. He lounges in bed for a while on those days, enjoying the softness of the mattress beneath him. Sometimes that leads to Phil leaving his room first simply because Dan gets lost in thought; not that it’s a problem.

It just means Phil will be waiting for Dan, and will probably pout for several minutes before forgetting about it altogether as they move on with their morning.

Sometimes, on the rare occasions when Dan does fall back asleep, he’ll emerge from his room to find Phil in his spot on the sofa, two mugs of coffee and plates of what he’s deemed to be their breakfast waiting. It’s nice, even if it does make Dan feel guilty.

But Phil never acts like Dan has anything to feel guilty for, so he tries dismissing it as best he can. It’s easier than ignoring what he’s feeling for Phil; that every day he increasingly wishes that they could be more than this. Because, as wonderful as it all is, Dan wants Phil. Properly. In a way that no one else gets to have him.

It’s a scary thought, bringing it up, especially when there’s no indication that Phil is going through this same inner turmoil. He’s certainly comfortable around Dan. He teases, he leans into Dan’s space when he laughs heavily, and he pushes at whatever part of Dan he can reach when Dan says something dumb.

He’s comfortable, but that’s not really a sign that he’s feeling anything romantic, just that he trusts Dan. Which is great, and it’s exactly what Dan hoped for, but there’s still this empty feeling. A gap Dan wants to fill.

Now that it’s happened once, Phil apparently has no qualms with wandering around their flat in his sleepwear. Well, his pants and an old t-shirt are the main problem. The hideous pajama pants aren’t really an issue for Dan except in the way they make his vision swim when he looks at them for too long.

It tests his willpower every time. Whether that be to throw caution out the window and pounce on his roommate, or to flee the situation. He makes himself stay put, though. Somehow. Really, he can’t make himself leave when he isn’t bothered by it. Well, he is, but in a different way.

A way that he’d rather not have Phil finding out about.

Phil, who stops making excuses for his lack of clothing by the third time it happens. Not that he was very convincing before, one can only forget their joggers so many times, but Dan thinks Phil’s smile and somewhat knowing look is way worse. Or maybe it isn’t a knowing look, and Dan’s just projecting.

It’s all incredibly unhelpful. Phil’s being more confusing with every passing day. His touches become more frequent, and while Dan’s not positive, he thinks some of Phil’s remarks are meant to come off as flirty. He doesn’t know if it means anything, because friends are allowed to flirt with each other for fun, and maybe that’s how Phil is.

He doesn’t know, and he certainly isn’t going to ask. That feels like opening up a whole other can of worms that he’s not ready for.

Maybe he doesn’t need to ask, he realizes. Maybe all he has to do is play along. Touch Phil, flirt back; do all the things Phil’s doing to him in the hopes of getting a result.

The result, as it happens, is Phil continuing to do as he did. He’s not put off by Dan imitating him. If anything, it seems to spur him on. Now, Dan’s not sure what to make of that, but he knows he doesn’t hate it. Far from it. He likes what’s happening, even if he’d still quite appreciate a concrete answer.

It’s a Friday morning when he gets one. Kind of.

They’ve already had breakfast, and now Phil is scurrying about the flat trying to finish getting ready. They’d gotten into a lengthy conversation over their meal, causing both of them to lose track of time until Phil was at risk of being late. He won’t be, in theory, but it’s clear he’s still anxious about it.

Dan lets him run around, sometimes pointing Phil in the direction of something he’s “misplaced.” Like a charger he’d left in the outlet when he thought he brought it back to his room, or his computer that’s resting on the sofa when he expected it to be on the table. Dan can’t place the exact moment when he became Phil’s personal compass, but he’s glad he did.

It’s once Phil’s ready to go when it happens. He usually comes over to say a proper goodbye instead of yelling as he’s already halfway out of their flat, only this time, he lingers behind the sofa.

Dan looks up at him, curious if he has anything to say, only then Phil bends down and kisses the top of his head. It’s a simple gesture, and then he’s heading for the door. More quickly than usual, though one could chalk that up to his fear of missing his ride.

It takes Dan a second to remember that is definitely not something they do. He blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to process. It was a small thing, practically mindless, and yet Dan already knows it’s all he’s going to think about for the rest of the day. Say goodbye to productivity; he’s going to ruminate on the littlest of actions.

Is it actually little, though? Dan’s not sure he knows of any friends who genuinely kiss each other’s heads before one of them leaves. Then again, what does he know? Maybe there are and he’s just unaware, but that’s not the important thing here:

Phil isn’t one of those people who does that, whether they exist or not.

Dan thinks about running after Phil to ask what the hell that was all about, but in the end, of course he doesn’t. They’ll talk about it later, surely. There’s no way they can’t. This is more than Phil sitting unnecessarily close to Dan or touching him more frequently. It’s so much more, and Dan can’t tell if he’s excited or scared. In any case, he can’t help how hopeful he feels about what it means. There’s a chance, then, that his feelings are reciprocated.

There’s something to consider. Dan never really expected that to happen, so he never thought about it. In his mind, there wasn’t a reason to. All he tried to do was push his crush aside so it wouldn’t ruin their friendship.

But now… does he have to try and move past it? There’s finally a sign that he can take seriously. An action that’s purposeful and deliberate; that’s a whole lot bigger than a platonic act of affection.

The real question is: what does he do about it? When they talk, what does he say? Does he let Phil take the lead? Should he confess all that he’s been holding back? Will Phil confess what he’s apparently been keeping to himself for who knows how long?

It’s a lot to think about, and it distracts Dan for the entire day. Unhelpful, but there’s not much he can do about it.

He does get some work done. Is it very good work? Probably not, but it’s better than nothing in his opinion. He can fix it later if need be. He keeps himself planted firmly in the lounge, deciding it safer to wait out here instead of going to his room. What if Phil comes back early for some reason? Dan doesn’t want to miss his return. He wants to get this sorted as soon as possible, because the anticipation is eating away at him.

When Dan finally hears the lock click and the front door opening, a wave of tension seems to flood their entire place. Dan’s anxiety spikes like it never has, and he’s certain Phil’s is doing the same.

It gets even worse when Dan hears the other lingering in the doorway, delaying his entrance into the lounge. He must suspect Dan’s in here, then. Or, if not, he’s scared that Dan will be.

Dan hates that; he doesn’t want Phil to be worried, and he wants nothing more than to reassure him that he wants whatever Phil does. That he’ll take whatever Phil is willing to give him and take it happily.

He wants to get up, hurry over to Phil and say all that he wants to, except he doesn’t. He feels stuck in place, glued to the sofa that won’t let him go. All he can do is wait as Phil’s agonizingly slow footsteps approach until he finally, finally comes into view.

If Dan didn’t know Phil as well as he does, he wouldn’t be able to see anything wrong. Phil would look normal, if not a bit tired after work, and that’s it. Only Dan does know him, and he can see all the terror and dread written across the other’s face. It’s so obvious, and it hurts Dan to see.

They make eye contact for a long time. Dan opens his mouth, hoping that some mildly comforting words will escape him, but then Phil is bolting to his room, and Dan hears the door shut firmly. Forcefully.

Out of all the possibilities, Dan never expected Phil to run. Maybe he should have, as that’s probably the easiest thing to do, although Phil never did things the easy way. When Dan ran, he waited. It was as simple as that, and now it’s Dan’s turn to wait, apparently, which he’ll gladly do.

Except time goes on and Phil never emerges. Does he think Dan’s upset? He should know Dan wouldn’t be, no matter what his feelings for Phil are, whether romantic or platonic. Dan values their friendship first; surely Phil’s aware of that after all these months have passed. Doesn’t he feel the same anyway? Dan certainly thought so.

He’s doubting it now, and it’s frightening. Phil’s continued absence is making it harder for Dan to think rationally. He wants to, because that would be incredibly comforting compared to what’s going on in his head, but he can’t. There’s no stopping the tangent his brain is going down, no matter how hard he tries.

Dan stays where he is despite all that, because what else is he meant to do? Phil’s got to come out for dinner eventually, right? He must be hungry after a long day; there’s no way he can hold out for much longer.

Another hour passes, and Dan gives in to the grumblings of his stomach. Phil can be as stubborn as he likes; Dan’s not going to deprive himself of food. Him being here isn’t about them eating together, anyway. It’s about talking. Communicating. Something they’ve been incredibly good at up until this point.

It’s past two in the morning when Dan gives up. His body is tired, and while a part of him wants to sleep on the sofa, the other, much stronger part of him doesn’t. He’s feeling dejected, lonely, miserable, and fucking terrified. He wants his bed; wants to bury himself in blankets and hope that his dreams are far more pleasant than this night has been. Not much can be worse than this, regardless.

Dan passes out far quicker than he expected. He thought maybe he’d continue to have unwanted thoughts, but no. His entire being succumbs to unconsciousness like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Except it isn’t a good feeling. If anything, it’s heavy. Weighed down.

Like there’s a storm coming and nobody knows how bad it will be.

—

The answer is: it’s bad. Very bad. Not the worst Dan’s ever experienced, god knows how dreadful it’s gotten before, but it’s still awful. His mind is swampy, all jumbled and miserable. Barely any thoughts, and barely any feelings except for how much he hates everything and wants to go back to sleep.

He’s just kind of numb.

There’s something itching at the back of his brain, slowly stumbling to the forefront as he wakes up. He can’t care about it when he remembers, though. Yesterday doesn’t matter to him now. Whether Phil ever talks to him or not, whether he moves out, or whether he confesses how he feels… Dan’s indifferent to it all. Maybe not indifferent, as he would have interest in the outcome on any other day.

But he can’t do that today. Can’t do much of anything, really. He might be able to get up to eat or use the bathroom if it gets drastic enough, only there’s this unknown warning that he shouldn’t leave his room. While he doesn’t necessarily care, he also doesn’t want to run into Phil and cast this shadow of darkness over him. Phil’s a ray of light; Dan refuses to diminish that.

Besides, Phil seemed hellbent on avoiding him last night, so really, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. Dan can wallow in this self-hatred of his without worrying, and he’s relieved for it.

Dan closes his eyes again. He sleeps, he thinks, or at least something similar. He phases in and out of awareness for a while, mind never settling enough for him to dream properly. It’s boring, bleak, and exactly what Dan expects on days like this. He wishes he weren’t so familiar with it. He’s had days since Phil’s moved in when he’s been down, but it wasn’t quite this bad. He’s been able to mask it in a way where it just looks like he’s having a bad day, something that isn’t possible this time.

From the way the light is shining through his window, it’s past midday. Maybe three or so in the afternoon. Dan feels a little hungry, but it’s easy enough to ignore.

He rolls so he’s lying flat on his back and stares up at the ceiling. He wonders what life would be like without this; if he’d feel more accomplished or enjoy life more or something. Probably yes, but he’ll never know. Even when these days grow less and less frequent, it will always be something he deals with. It’s more than disappointing. Can’t there be a proper cure? A way to stop all this? Why is it that—

There’s a knock at his door, interrupting Dan’s unhelpful spiral of questions that won’t help him in the least.

“Dan?” Comes Phil’s voice. Obviously. Who else is it going to be?

Dan can’t respond. He doesn’t even want to. He’d rather be left alone until this all passes, and even then, what’s he supposed to tell Phil when he finally comes out of hiding? That he was so tired he just slept all day? That’s not the most plausible thing when it’s never happened before.

Another knock.

“We should talk.” It’s serious, but not threatening. It’s a plea, almost; like Phil needs this. Like he’s going to explain himself.

And while Dan wanted that yesterday, he can’t give less of a fuck about it now. He doesn’t want to see Phil, though he knows that isn’t the other’s fault. It’s his own brain; not that there’s much he can do about it except let this whole day run its course and hope that tomorrow is better.

There’s a thump against his door. It’s not a knock, exactly. More like Phil’s let his forehead fall against the wood.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” he says. “I freaked out. Please, just… will you let me in?”

He sounds so earnest that Dan starts to feel bad. He’ll definitely feel like shit once this all passes, but the fact that he’s experiencing any emotion at all right now besides annoyance is certainly something.

“Dan? You okay?”

“Leave me alone,” Dan finally grumbles, just loud enough to be heard. He knows his voice breaks, knows that he sounds miserable, and he buries himself a little deeper into his bed.

“Right, sure. Sorry.” Phil’s tone is so close to devastated. It’s on the brink of it, and Dan realizes then that this really isn’t about him. Phil’s clearly distressed, and through all the fog and detachment, Dan knows that he should care.

That’s enough.

“Don’t go.” He has to force the words out of his mouth. They’re heavy, and if they had a flavor, Dan reckons the taste would be bitter.

Phil chuckles a little on the other side of the door. “You’re kind of confusing me. Can I come in?” He asks again.

“Please don’t,” Dan hears himself beg. He can’t have Phil seeing him like this. He can’t. Not without a proper explanation, one that Dan definitely won’t be able to provide right now.

He feels tears of frustration form in his eyes. If he could only express himself in a way that made sense. He wants to tell Phil that he’s fine, that he needs space and they can talk later, but he finds that he can’t. Thinking of the right words is too hard right now. It’s hard even on the normal days, if he’s being honest, but at least then he’s thinking clearly.

“Forgive me,” Phil starts, and Dan already hates where this is going, “but I’m coming in.”

The door creaks open, and Dan throws his duvet completely over his head, curls up into a tight ball, and shuts his eyes tightly. If he can’t see anything, will that make it all go away?

There are footsteps as Phil enters the room, and then they abruptly stop. Dan knows he’s just a lump under the covers, yet he can feel his mood radiating into the entirety of the room, informing Phil of at least part of the state he’s in.

“Dan…”

Dan shakes his head violently under the covers until he feels dizzy. “Don’t. I— I can’t.”

“What’s going on?” Phil asks quietly while also sounding incredibly worried. Although Dan can’t see him, he can imagine the helpless expression on the other’s face.

Dan sniffles. He feels completely out of control. Not that he ever had any control to begin with; if he did, he wouldn’t be feeling this way. It’s worse now that Phil’s here, though. The other can make decisions that Dan is powerless to change or stop.

The bed dips as Phil sits down. He keeps his distance from Dan, not touching him, but his presence is still noticeable. Dan wishes… He wants…

He doesn’t even know. Does he want Phil to leave? Kind of. Does he want Phil to stay? Also kind of.

“I know you’re probably pissed at me for yesterday—”

“I‘m not,” Dan interrupts, voice raspy. He pushes his duvet away just enough so he can peek out at Phil. “This ‘s unrelated.”

Phil looks at least mildly relieved, but still concerned. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Dan bites his lip. Phil is so wonderful and so lovely; it’s too much. He feels too overwhelmed. With the kindness, with the company, with this entire day.

“Can’t,” he finally says.

“Okay,” Phil starts slowly. “Is there anything I can do?”

There’s a long, long pause as Dan considers this. He really, truly doesn’t know. Instinctively, he wants to be left alone; that’s his knee-jerk response. Logically, he knows it won’t be productive to indulge in all this cynicism. Phil will help with that. As a distraction, and as a comforting presence, even if the prospect of it is intense.

“Stay.”

Phil nods. “Sure. Can I—”

Dan answers the question before Phil can fully ask it. “Get in, idiot.” He shuffles over to make enough space for Phil and lifts up the duvet. It’s the most he’s moved today, and his muscles feel stiff and achy.

He watches Phil hesitate for a fraction of a second before joining him in bed. The other keeps his distance, as if he’s trying to avoid touching Dan entirely. He’s a statue; barely moving at all except to breathe.

Maybe it’s because of what happened yesterday, or maybe it’s because of Dan’s lowered inhibitions, he reaches out and takes Phil’s hand in his. It’s a light hold, enough that, should he want to, Phil can break them apart.

He doesn’t.

Instead, Phil interlocks their fingers, practically clutching Dan’s hand. It almost hurts, though Dan finds it more grounding rather than uncomfortable. The touch, as minimal as it is, pulls him slowly back into his normal self. Not fully, only a little, but it’s enough.

“So you aren’t pissed at me?” Phil asks, keeping his gaze firmly on the ceiling.

“Does it seem like I’m pissed at you?” It’s the longest sentence he’s spoken all day, which is clear in the way it fumbles out of Dan’s mouth.

“I mean, no, I guess not.”

Dan laughs airily, squeezing Phil’s hand. “You guess not?”

Phil squeezes back. “I just like the confirmation.” He turns his head toward Dan, who does the same. “It’s probably not the right time to talk about this, then, is it?” Phil lifts up their joined hands briefly before letting them fall back onto the mattress.

“Not today,” Dan whispers. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Phil says easily. “But is it— Is this—” He groans, shutting his eyes tightly. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“Mm, pretty sure you never do.”

Phil opens his eyes again and pouts. “I’m forgiving you for now because you’re having a shit day, but tomorrow I’m showing no mercy.”

Dan yawns. “Sure, bub. Whatever you say. Cuddle me now, please.” He doesn’t think twice about it, and it’s nice. There’s something in him right now that’s making him feel like he can say anything and it’ll be fine. A dangerous game, but he can deal with the consequences tomorrow.

He releases Phil’s hand and rolls over before the other can respond. He holds his breath then, because he doesn’t want it to feel like he’s pressuring Phil to do this. He hopes the other knows he has a choice and that, if he’s uncomfortable, he can say no.

Just as Dan’s about to turn his head and rephrase that he isn’t trying to command Phil to do anything, he feels him inch closer until his front is pressed to Dan’s back. It’s made even better when Phil drops an arm over Dan’s waist, his hand resting flat against Dan’s stomach.

“This okay?”

“Perfect,” Dan murmurs, nestling his head into his pillow and sighing contentedly. This is the best he’s felt all day, and it’s all because of Phil.

“Are we sleeping now?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you eaten today?”

“Not yet. Will later.”

“Do you need—”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions,” Dan comments, amused.

“Sorry,” Phil apologizes. “I’m nervous.”

That’s the opposite of what Dan wants to hear, so he turns over in Phil’s arms. They’re face to face, and so much closer than they’ve ever been. Phil’s arm stays where it is, still holding onto Dan, who kind of really wants to trace his thumbs over Phil’s cheekbones. He refrains despite the urge being incredibly persistent.

“Why?”

Phil shrugs a shoulder. “I never thought this would happen.”

Dan raises his eyebrows. “Then you’re oblivious and stupid.”

“You’re the oblivious one,” Phil says quietly, pulling Dan closer to him.

Dan doesn’t argue. He probably has been oblivious if Phil is holding him like this so easily. They can talk about it another day, though. Dan isn’t worried. For now, he wants to go back to sleep since the voices in his head have quieted down. It’s almost peaceful. Almost, because those thoughts never truly go away on days like these, but it’s a start.

He falls asleep without even realizing it, curled up against Phil’s chest as if he’s been here a million times before. It’s wonderful, and Dan hopes he’ll get to experience this over and over. Phil’s rhythmic breathing is soothing, coaxing Dan’s entire being into a state of calm.

When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is that Phil’s face seems to be buried in his hair. He doesn’t see how that can be at all comfortable, but it must be. Dan shuffles around a little, trying his hardest not to interrupt Phil’s rest. 

He’s got a theory that the other didn’t sleep very well last night. It’s all based on assumptions, of course; assumptions that Dan trusts to be likely when he knows Phil so well. Phil’s anxiety can rage at the smallest of things, and what happened yesterday decidedly wasn’t small. It makes sense that Phil would be kept awake by his thoughts; by the sinking feeling in his stomach and the jitteriness of his hands.

A kiss to his head is what distracts him from his hypothesizing. Phil’s hold on Dan tightens as he hugs the other closer to his chest, and all Dan can do is let out a content hum, pressing his face further into the crook of Phil’s neck.

“Hi sleepy,” Phil mumbles into his hair.

Dan makes a noise between a squeak and a grunt as he stretches out his body.  “How long’ve you been awake for?”

“Not long. Couple minutes.”

“I’m glad you were able to sleep,” Dan says quietly.

Phil laughs a little. “It’s the most relaxed I’ve been since yesterday morning.” He pauses, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through the hair on the back of Dan’s head. “Should I feel bad about that? When you’re not doing well?”

Dan shakes his head. “It’s good that you are.”

“Yeah?” Phil asks, pulling away enough so he can see Dan’s face properly.

Dan’s breath hitches. He’s seen Phil all sleep-rumpled before on the weekends, only it’s never been quite like this. There’s the typical messy hair that Dan is used to, but now there’s added sleep in his eyes; creases on his face from the pillow. He looks drowsy still, soft, and if Dan were in a different state, he’d have half a mind to kiss him.

He wants to be feeling more like himself when they finally do have their first kiss, so Dan settles for admiring Phil’s very pretty face instead.

“Yeah,” Dan confirms after shaking himself out of his initial trance.

Phil smiles and leans in, pressing his lips to Dan’s forehead. “That okay?” He whispers when he leans back again.

Dan nods quickly. It’s more than okay, really. He’s wanted this for ages; if Phil wants to kiss his head or his shoulder or anywhere else he wants, Dan’s not going to protest. As for the things he deems off limits for today, Dan thinks Phil already knows.

“I like you,” he says then, completely unprompted. While he doesn’t want to have a full-blown conversation about what’s going on here, he does want to make one thing very clear. “A lot.”

Phil chuckles. “That’s a relief.”

Dan groans, shoving his head into Phil’s chest so he can’t be seen. “Say it back,” he mumbles.

Phil, because he’s wonderful like that, complies immediately.

“I like you too. A lot.”

Dan sighs; the words are music to his ears. “Good.”

—

They don’t end up talking about it the following day. Not right away, at least. Dan’s brain is much better, his thoughts clearer and less depressing, but he never starts the conversation he knows they need to have. Instead, he pulls Phil to the sofa so they can have a Sunday full of video games. Dan would prefer existing in normalcy rather than having a discussion that will change everything, even if the changes are exactly what he wants.

It’s hard to explain, and Dan ignores it in place of trying to rationalize the whole thing. He assumes it’s fine, though, because Phil hasn’t brought it up either. Maybe they’re on the same page, then, that they both want to make up for the time they lost yesterday.

Dan gets so absorbed in Phil’s presence that he forgets about what happened altogether. He’s immersed in the games they play, in the banter they have, and it feels all too natural when Phil puts a hand on his thigh or leans into him when he laughs.

They play for ages, rotating between games because neither can decide on one. It’s not quite dinnertime when they’re done, and immediately Phil leans back on the sofa. Both of them had been sitting in upright, rigid positions for hours. They’re both feeling it, clearly, and Dan thinks lying down will feel incredible right now.

He brings his feet up onto the sofa and then, as if it’s routine, puts his head in Phil’s lap. He wants a pillow, and neither have gotten around to buying some except for the ones on their beds. Phil stops moving for a moment before Dan feels a hand in his hair, massaging his head in between twirling his curls around. It’s nice, and Dan finds that his eyes close on their own.

“Feels good,” he murmurs, having to hold back something like a whimper when Phil uses his blunt nails to scratch his scalp. It’s the best thing he’s felt in a while; the best sensation.

Phil hums. “You tired?”

Dan blinks up at him. This angle shouldn’t be flattering, but somehow Phil still looks beautiful. “Not really,” he says. “Just happy.”

A grin spreads across Phil’s face. “Me too.” He pushes the hair out of Dan’s face. “Are you feeling better than yesterday?”

“Much. Thank you.”

Phil shrugs a little. “I didn’t really do anything.”

Dan frowns. “You stayed.”

“Of course I did. I care about you.”

Dan turns his head so he doesn’t have to look Phil in the eyes. “I’m not used to it,” he whispers. “I don’t let people see me like that; it’s why I told you not to come in.”

Phil stops playing with Dan’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and to Dan he sounds guilty. 

His eyes snap back to Phil immediately, mustering up all the sincerity he can. “Don’t be.” He reaches up to touch Phil’s face briefly, hoping the action is comforting rather than weird. “I’m glad you didn’t listen.”

Phil holds his hand in place, keeping it pressed to his cheek. “We should talk, right?”

Dan chews on his lip. He wants to, really. It’s just… talking is hard. Even if he knows they’re on the same page about all this, expressing himself is a difficult thing. They’ve said they like each other, anyway. Isn’t that enough?

“I thought we did already,” he says, disappointed when Phil lets his hand fall away and prods Dan so he sits up fully. His head spins a little at the change in position, and it takes a moment for him to focus on Phil again.

“You said you like me,” Phil starts, “but what does that mean?”

Dan furrows his eyebrows. “Elaborate.”

“I mean, do you want a relationship? Or to, like, hook up? Because I don’t want that. Hooking up, I mean. I’d rather this be more…” Phil trails off with a vague wave of his hand.

Dan gets what he’s trying to say. “Me too,” he agrees. “I like you a lot,” he reiterates. “More than I should, probably.”

Phil smiles immediately, his entire face lighting up. “Well, good. Because me too.”

“Do you need a label?” Dan asks then, because he genuinely doesn’t have a preference.

“I guess I don’t care either way,” Phil says with a shrug. “Boyfriends, partners,” he nudges Dan’s shoulder, “best bros.”

Dan snorts, shoving Phil away playfully. “Actually shut up,” he giggles.

Phil’s quiet for a moment. “Not to be cliché,” he starts, “but make me.”

Dan doesn’t hesitate because he doesn’t want to kiss Phil, but because he’s scared. It’s different when he was yearning, when all he did was crave for something more. Now it’s real. He has an answer, a relationship that’s moving into different territory, and that’s frightening. What if he fucks up? That’s a very real possibility, and then what? It’ll be awkward; their friendship will probably be ruined, leaving Dan with nothing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Phil rushes to say when Dan doesn’t answer. “If that’s too soon and you’d rather wait. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Dan shakes his head. “I am comfortable, I just…” He sighs, frustrated with himself. “Are you sure? Even after yesterday, you want this?”

“Of course I do,” Phil answers instantly. “We all have bad days, and even if yours are worse than the average person, that doesn’t matter to me.”

“I guess, as long as you’re pos—”

“I am.”

“Fuck it, then,” Dan murmurs.

He climbs into Phil’s lap, straddling his thighs. Phil gazes up at him, eyes all big and enticing. Dan knew it before, but now he’s certain: he would give anything to have this. As long as Phil keeps looking at him all infatuated-like, he’s going to die happy and content.

There’s a brief pause, a silent agreement passing between them for what’s about to happen. Dan reckons they’ve got some telepathic link at this point. He’s never believed in shit like that before, except the connection he has with Phil is making him reconsider.

Or maybe Phil’s own beliefs in fate and all that have slowly wormed their way into Dan’s heart.

None of that matters now, because Phil is pressing forward until his lips collide softly with Dan’s. He keeps it brief, perhaps testing the waters, and pulls away after only a few seconds. Dan chases after him because, no, he would rather this not be over yet. He takes Phil’s head in his hands, bringing him closer until they’re kissing for a second time.

Phil doesn’t try to break it, just seems to melt into the whole thing as Dan tilts his head and deepens it. It isn’t rushed, isn’t being pushed into something more than a kiss; there’s only an added intensity than a standard peck. Dan hasn’t kissed many people, hasn’t even been in a relationship for a while, but it still means something that this is the best first kiss of his life. The best first kiss to ever exist, really, and he’s willing to argue with anyone who disagrees.

It doesn’t take long before Phil’s fingers find their way to Dan’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Dan hums, happy with the development, especially when Phil tugs on the strands. It makes him whimper; the sound so sudden that he backs off. Phil doesn’t let Dan lean too far away, keeping him close and resting their foreheads together instead.

“Hot,” Phil mumbles, his eyes still closed. Dan’s glad for it, because at this point he can feel a flush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. He agrees that the whole thing was hot, yet at the same time…

“I don’t think I’m ready for more,” he whispers, hoping the statement won’t be a disappointment.

Phil shakes his head, pulling back and opening his eyes. He smiles gently. “Me neither.” When Dan lets out a relieved exhale, he moves one of his hands from the back of Dan’s head to cup his cheek. “Did you think I wouldn’t be okay with that?”

Dan shrugs, looking away. “I think we can agree the logical part of my brain doesn’t always win.”

Phil plants a quick, reassuring kiss on Dan’s lips. “Then I guess we have work to do.”

“You’re too good for me,” Dan says, still in disbelief that Phil really does seem to be his.

“Nah,” Phil disagrees. “I think we’re the perfect pair.”

—

Dan’s not going to say his life becomes perfect, though he reckons it’s very close to it. Phil still steals his cereal and leaves his socks on the floor, they miscommunicate about who’s going to water the plants, and Dan still has his bad days.

But Dan buys two boxes of cereal, they both set a schedule for taking care of the plants, and Dan tries his best to let Phil know when he gets that awful feeling in the pit of his stomach. That’s the hardest part, because it’s not something that can be easily remedied. Phil is wonderful, though, and he learns exactly what Dan needs.

Sometimes it means leaving Dan alone, sometimes it means cuddles, and sometimes it means Dan lies on the sofa and watches Phil play a video game.

It’s hard, and Dan snaps on occasion. It makes him hide in his room for a while before sheepishly knocking on Phil’s door to apologize. Phil always lets him in, and he always lets Dan crawl into bed with him.

Phil’s anxiety gets the better of him once in a while, too. He’s bad at talking to Dan when he’s feeling that way, but Dan knows he’s trying; he knows to be gentle when Phil gets quiet in the middle of dinner, or when he’s fidgety before leaving for work. He takes care of his boyfriend in those instances. He cooks, doesn’t get on Phil for being messy, and he always puts Phil to bed at an earlier time than usual.

Which makes it seem like he’s treating Phil like a child, but it’s really just because Phil insists he isn’t tired when the effects of his anxiety are clearly making him exhausted.

Their days are mostly good, though; always filled with banter and jokes that make them both double over laughing. When Phil looks all bright and happy like that, Dan finds himself watching him and wondering how he ever got so lucky. He knows, even if it’s soon, that this is someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Phil brings him so much joy, so much hope, and Dan longs to have that forever.

It’s a couple of weeks in when they fall into bed together. They fumble around a bit at first, but it isn’t long before their movements become coordinated, seamless, and it’s so intimate that Dan finds himself crying once it’s over. Not loudly, not sad or distraught, just a few tears because it’s then that he realizes he is so in love with this man.

But it’s Phil who eventually says it first.

They’re sitting in the lounge, continuing the show they started the other night. Phil’s arm is draped across the back of the sofa while Dan’s head is resting on his shoulder. It’s cozy; Dan’s never felt so relaxed around another person. His guard was already down once he got to know Phil, only now it’s completely gone. He’s not trying to hide his feelings, not trying to protect himself, and it’s fantastic.

Phil brings his hand up to card through Dan’s hair. “Can I tell you something?” He asks quietly.

Dan snorts. “Obviously.”

Phil picks up the remote from where it’s lying next to him and pauses their show. He moves so he can face Dan fully, and Dan whines when the action dislodges him from Phil’s side. He goes to say something, probably complain, until he sees the nervous look on his boyfriend’s face. It makes him nervous, and he frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Phil says quickly. “At least not right now. I kind of spoke without thinking.”

Dan doesn’t like that answer. “You’re worrying me. Are you—”

“I love you,” Phil blurts.

It’s not at all what Dan expected, though he’s far from disappointed. He opens his mouth, fully ready to return the sentiment, only Phil keeps talking.

“I know this isn’t ideal, maybe, or special because we always do this, but I just… I just wanted you to know.”

Dan is incredibly endeared. 

“I think it’s plenty special,” he states plainly. “Experiencing shows and movies together is something that means a lot to us, right? That’s enough.” He pokes Phil’s cheek. “Although you could’ve at least waited until the end of the episode.”

Phil crosses his arms and pouts. “I was hyping myself up.”

Dan grins. “I know. You’re cute like that.”

“Shut up.”

“You are. That's one of the reasons why I love you, too.”

Phil lets his head fall forward onto Dan’s shoulder, letting out a long exhale. “Thank god.”

“I have for a while,” Dan continues. “I wasn’t sure if it was too soon.”

“Not too soon,” Phil mumbles, and Dan kisses the side of his head.

He lets the last few minutes wash over him. He’s relieved it’s all out in the open now; that he can say the three words he wants to freely. As often as he likes, really, and he intends to make up for all the times he didn’t express it before. He also just wants Phil to hear it, to know that it’s true and that he really is cherished.

“Do you want to keep watching?” He asks after a moment of silence has passed.

Phil sits up, and his expression looks nervous again. “There’s one more thing.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I lied before.”

It’s a statement that has Dan’s mind running in a million different directions. Phil’s told him so much since the beginning of their friendship into when they started dating, and Dan has no idea where the untruth might be.

“About what?”

“Why I avoided you when I moved in.”

That’s not such a bad answer, to Dan’s relief. “Oh.” He suspected it before, but the thought hasn’t crossed his mind for a long time. He’s curious why Phil is bringing it up now, to say the least. “So it wasn’t because you weren’t used to living with strangers?”

“Well, that was part of it, but not the main reason.”

When time goes on and Phil doesn’t continue, Dan prompts, “Are you going to tell me?”

Phil bites his lip. “Yeah, it’s just a bit… embarrassing.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You’re hot,” Phil says, as if that gives Dan any answers.

Dan gives him a funny look. “Thank you? What does that have to do with—”

“I liked you straight away. Romantically speaking.”

The corners of Dan’s lips twitch, slowly curving up into a smile. “You did?”

Phil nods. “Yeah.”

“How’s that a problem?”

“I’d just gotten out of a relationship,” Phil explains, and Dan can tell he’s hesitant.

Dan pushes away the slight jealousy he feels, because of course Phil’s been in relationships prior to this. Look at him.

“So you weren’t ready for something else?”

Phil shrugs. “It’s not exactly the best idea to have a crush on your roommate, is it?”

“Right.” Dan shifts a little. The fear that settles in him is irrational, he knows that, but it’s still there. Phil won’t take this away from him, surely.

His insecurities fall away when Phil turns to him. His eyes are kind, trustworthy, and it’s easy for Dan to relax once more.

“You became incredibly persistent, though,” Phil says fondly. “And pretty soon I didn’t even want to try avoiding you.”

Dan crosses his arms. “Well, good.”

Phil tilts his head curiously. “Why did you start doing that, by the way?”

“I didn’t want you to be scared of me, or whatever.” Dan fiddles with the hem of his jumper. “The plan was to go back to how things were, but then I kind of… fell.”

Phil smirks. “Obviously.”

Dan swats at his shoulder. “You fell first, don’t forget, and I’m going to hold that over your head forever.”

“Mm, well, I’m going to keep bringing up how you reacted when I wandered out in my pants for the first time.”

With a huff, Dan crosses his arms and glances away. “You definitely did that on purpose,” he grumbles.

“Maybe,” Phil says with a giggle. “I wanted to see what you’d do.”

“Well, it was cruel.”

Phil puts his fingers under Dan’s chin, bringing his focus back to him. He looks at him intently for a beat before closing his eyes and kissing him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against Dan’s lips.

Dan sighs, because obviously he’s not actually upset about the whole thing, and obviously he’s very glad with how this entire situation ended up. He’s glad that he put himself out there, glad that he kept interacting with Phil until they became friends, and he’s especially glad for Phil’s initial fuck-up that brought them to where they are now.

He initiates their next kiss, keeping it slow and filled with the love he feels all over. Every time they do this, it gets better and better. There’s no plateau, and Dan doesn’t believe there ever will be. They’ll kiss each other over and over, and it’ll never be boring.

“God, do I love you,” he says when they part, looking at Phil with nothing but fondness in his eyes. It comes out automatically, unintentionally, not that it matters.

Phil smiles so, so wide. “It sounds so good when you say it.”

“Sounds even better when you do,” Dan counters, knowing full well it’s one of the sappiest things he’s ever said.

“Should we test that?”

“Naturally.”

“I love you,” Phil says. “A lot.”

Dan grins, planting a quick kiss to Phil’s lips. “Told you.”

He’s been happy, but now he’s elated. Phil was his before, and now it feels permanently cemented. It’s something that’s never going to end, no matter what disagreements and bad days they have. They’ll endure, and Dan knows that; he’s never been so sure about anything before.

“I’m going to love you forever,” Phil mumbles under his breath.

Dan looks forward to it.