Work Text:
The waves on the beach sound like breathing. Stars sparkle in the dark endless sky. A city shines behind Phil and an ocean glitters before him. He closes his eyes and listens to the hum of a place where the heat has not quite broken, where the life comes out at night. It washes over him soft and slow.
Phil hears the music before he even sees the bar.
It’s faint at first, dreamlike, wafting through the city streets and salty air like it’s leading him somewhere. He follows it up the pier - why not, right? He's never been here before. He wants to see everything.
The song is familiar, a brassy pop tune that Phil knows he's heard on radio. As he turns the corner, the music gets louder and the bar comes into sight - a bright blue neon sign shouting Tucker’s, a steady stream of gorgeous laughing 20-somethings trickling in. It's not quite what Phil expected, somehow, but he isn't sure why, so he nods to himself and starts up the street towards the bar.
“- just come on, we only have a few hours,” Phil hears someone say behind him as he walks past a shop with a display of eight identical televisions in the window. “We should use it!”
“Piss off, I am using it,” another someone says cattily, and then two guys cut diagonally across the street towards Tucker's. One of them is shorter and blond, the other lanky with dark hair and a slouch. “I just want to have some fun, okay? Before we have to go?”
“I can be fun! Come on, at least think about it for a minute,” the shorter guy says, and then they both disappear into the bar.
Phil stops at the corner for a moment, leans against a signpost and just watches. There's a group of six people all standing in a loose huddle near the front door, smoking cigarettes and laughing together like they're lifelong friends. For all Phil knows, they might be. He doesn't know how to tell who’s here permanently and who might just be passing through.
A breeze pushes his fringe off of his forehead for a moment and he decides - yes, okay, now. He only has a few hours. He needs to take advantage of this before he has to go back.
The group outside the front door has finished their cigarettes. They push back inside and Phil takes his chance, skitters across the road fast enough that he's only slightly behind them as they crowd through the doors. It's not that he's nervous about being here (although, he admits, that may be part of it), it's just that he looks like a sadsack, coming to a place like Tucker’s on his own. Riding in on the coattails of a group of friends, while still sad and embarrassing, is slightly less sad and embarrassing, so that's fine.
Inside the bar it's warm and crowded, people dancing and laughing and drinking and curling up together in dark corners. Tables and booths line the perimeter of the dance floor. A bartender holds court at the other side of the room, her hands a blur as she mixes drinks and chats to the people waiting in front of her. Phil picks his way past the dancers to the bar. He figures having a drink will at least give him something to hold on to while he decides on his next move.
“Coke, please,” he says, when the bartender finishes off the mojito she was making and gives Phil an expectant look.
“Just Coke?” she asks. A dark springy curl of hair is falling over her eyes.
“Yeah, thanks.”
She hands him a glass bottle with a striped straw, then turns to the next person in line. Phil takes a sip of the soda and moves away, spots an empty booth and slides into it to observe.
A song is playing that Phil hasn’t heard in years and everyone is dancing along, laughing, a blur of vibrant invincible youth. It’s gorgeous, like nothing else Phil has ever seen. He doesn’t want to join in yet, just wants to watch, to see everything, to know.
“Hi!” someone says, and then they're sliding onto Phil’s bench and setting their drink down onto the table with a muffled thud. Phil startles. “Please go along with everything I say for a minute.”
“What?” Phil asks, bewildered, and he puts his bottle of Coke down. The person sitting next to him smiles crookedly and reaches up to push their hair out of their eyes. In a flash of recognition, Phil realises it's the lanky guy from earlier, outside the bar.
“Please?” the guy says, and then the blond bloke he showed up with sidles up to the table.
“Two hours thirty five,” the blond announces, triple-tapping the watch on his wrist.
The lanky guy sighs and folds his arms. “Come on, Wes, you're just being an asshole now, I said not tonight.”
The blond, Wes, snorts out a laugh through his nose and sits down in one of the chairs at the other side of the booth. He leans forward and raises his eyebrows, like he thinks it makes him look charming.
“Dan, babe, we had the best time last week, can't we just -”
“Last week was last week,” Dan interrupts. Phil wonders what exactly it is that he's expected to go along with here. “Go find someone else to shag, there's plenty of people around. I have to talk to my friend,” and here he nods his head towards Phil, and oh, okay, now Phil gets it, he's this guy’s escape route, “I haven't seen him in a while.”
Wes doesn't look convinced. He looks quite put out, actually, his eyebrows lifting skeptically and his mouth twisting down. Dan slings his arm around Phil’s shoulder, then leans forward and says, quieter but still loud enough for Phil to hear, “Wes, he's sick. Like six-months-to-live sick.”
Dan’s thumb is brushing the side of Phil’s throat, right at the neckline of his shirt. The point of contact feels a little bit like it's fizzing.
“Five actually,” he blurts out without quite knowing why, but Dan twists around and grins quickly at him, conspiratorial, and he has shining eyes and a dimple, so that's fine.
“See?” Dan says, turning back to Wes but keeping his arm over Phil’s shoulders. “We need some private time.” Wes glances at Phil and his petulance fades a little.
“Okay, fine,” he sighs, pushing himself up off of his chair and adjusting the collar of his jacket. “I’ll see you around.” He looks over at Phil again, properly this time. “And I’m sorry.”
Phil shrugs and smiles placidly. He's not bothered. “That's okay.”
Wes disappears into the churning crowd. The pop song thudding through the speakers fades out and another comes on, this one faster and a little more gritty, more Phil’s style.
“Thank you so much,” Dan says, leaning his head against the back of the booth and rolling his eyes at the ceiling. His throat is long and Phil can't figure out where to look, so he just stares down at his hands. “He's not a bad guy but I just - not my type, you know? Kind of annoying. One and done. Anyway.” He sits up and smiles at Phil again. “Sorry for killing you off. Five months was a good touch though, I think it added gravitas to the story.” He brings his arm back from around Phil’s shoulders and sticks his hand out. “Dan. Drink?”
“Phil,” Phil says, “sure,” and they shake hands, and then Dan tugs him up out of his seat and towards the bar.
The bartender seems to recognise Dan, waves at him and grabs a glass from under the counter before either of them even sit down.
“Usual?” she asks, and Dan nods.
“Make it two,” he tells her. The bartender sets about to making their drinks and Dan turns to Phil. “So. Phil.” And then he just looks.
Phil lets him, for a moment, watches his eyes drag up and down like he's looking for something. The moment stretches just slightly too long, though, and awkwardness threatens, so Phil shifts a little.
“What are you doing,” he asks, jiggling his heel against the base of his bar stool.
“Regarding you,” Dan says, and he tilts his head against one hand and twists a smile sideways. “I like the glasses. They look authentic.”
The bartender slides them both tall glasses of dark alcohol, one of them with a blue paper umbrella and the other with a red. Dan claims the red umbrella drink, then passes the blue one to Phil.
“Thanks,” Phil says, and he means it about the glasses and the alcohol.
“Thank you,” Dan corrects him. He takes a sip of his drink. “You saved my ass, that guy would not leave me alone.” The corners of his eyes are crinkled as he smiles from behind his glass. He’s really cute. His sweater and jeans are both black and his hair is brown and thick and wavy.
Phil looks away and tries his drink. It's bitter and strong, lemony almost, not at all what he was expecting. He grimaces into the cup. Dan, somehow, miraculously, doesn't notice.
“So anyway.” Dan’s drink is half gone already. “When did you get here? I don't think I’ve seen you before.”
“Uh, today, actually,” Phil says. Dan twists his body towards him, interested. Phil stares for a moment, then quickly looks away and starts to stir his drink with his paper umbrella.
“Wow, welcome,” Dan says, his grin sharp-toothed and eager, Cheshire Cat. “I am a shit tour guide but I will do my absolute best.”
He's so close. Phil could lean forward and bump Dan’s forehead with his nose.
“We’re off to a good start,” he says instead, his voice shaking only slightly, and the music is loud enough that he thinks he might be able to get away with it. Dan smiles slightly and nods, then takes another drink. Phil does too. This sip tastes only slightly better than the first, but he muscles through it. He’ll order something fruity and nice later, maybe.
“I’m glad.” He keeps smiling, like he’s thrilled to be spending time with Phil like this. Like he doesn’t feel awkward at all.
“D’you want to get out of here?” Dan asks suddenly. “There's an arcade at the other end of the pier.”
“Yes,” Phil agrees, and Dan grins, then gestures at Phil’s full cup.
“Finish that, then we’ll go.” Phil makes a face. “Go on, I’ll do mine as well, we’re here to have fun!”
He’s too convincing. Phil sighs and shakes his head but he can’t stop himself from smiling. Dan lifts his fist into the air like the guy from The Breakfast Club.
They finish their drinks too fast. Phil’s throat burns and he coughs once he’s done, his head swirling pleasantly. Dan laughs at him but not in a mean way. It makes Phil feel warm all over.
“You don’t drink much, do you,” Dan says, all sweetness and cheek. He nudges the outside of Phil’s thigh with his knee.
“No,” Phil admits. “It was good though, thank you.”
Dan stands up and holds out his hand. Helps Phil stand, then doesn’t let go. “It was my pleasure.”
Their fingers stay loosely linked while Dan leads Phil through the dancers to the back exit. The door swings open easily and lets them out into the sudden fresh air of the night. Sometime in between Phil’s arrival at Tucker’s and now, the heat has broken and it has started to rain. A pink neon sign above their heads gives Dan a rosy glow, his hair curling from the heat of the bar. They lean against the brick wall of the bar and watch rain dripping down from the roof. Multicoloured city lights form wavery reflections in the puddles on the road.
“Do you want to walk all the way there in this?” Dan asks, gesturing out at the rain. Phil tilts his head and contemplates. Thunder rumbles pleasantly in the sky. “There’s always next week.”
Phil looks at Dan so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. Dan stares out at the building opposite, but shifts slightly so he’s leaning into Phil, his body a warm lovely weight. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Next week, then,” Phil says, and he nods. “We’ll go.” His whole body is a live wire, thrilling.
Dan stands up. He turns to face Phil and he holds out his hands. Phil takes them and looks up into his dark eyes.
“Come home with me instead?” Dan asks. His voice is low and sweet. Phil’s heart does a weird flip in his chest, then seems to bellyflop right into his stomach, which is kicking slightly with nerves. “We still have two hours.”
“Oh,” Phil says. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His life is too complicated to explain now. “Oh, er.”
“No?” Dan says. He drops the flirty face and just grins, open and friendly. “I mean, I have video games and shit, seduction was just a fun side benefit that I considered.” He laughs at his own joke, which is a trait Phil enjoys in people.
“Yeah,” he says, surprising himself a little. “Yeah, I like video games.”
“We can get to my house like,” Dan tells him, and snaps once, loud. His smile is pulled up slightly more on one side and his front tooth is chipped in the corner. He’s glowing in the neon. Phil nods at him.
“I’m convinced,” he says. Dan’s dark eyes light up. He grabs Phil’s hand and leads him out into the rain.
There's a car park behind Tucker’s. Dan tugs Phil to the far end of it, to a black Jeep with a little keychain bear dangling from the rear view mirror.
“A Jeep?” Phil asks, laughing. Water drips down the back of his neck. Dan drops his hand and makes a face at him as he walks around to the driver’s side and unlocks the door.
“Beach appropriate!” he protests. “Get in, you're getting rained on.”
The Jeep is surprisingly comfortable, actually, and Dan drives very fast but fairly well. He seems to know the roads, at least, and the car, and there are safety belts.
“So,” he says, as Dan turns down the beachside road. He turns his head to look at Dan’s profile instead of the coast. A drop of water balances on the tip of his nose. “You have a house, and a car, do you live here?”
“Nope,” Dan replies, smiling a little and not taking his eyes off the road. “I’m a visitor, just like you. I’ve just been visiting longer.”
His voice says that's the end of the conversation. Phil files it away for later and looks back out the front window. In his peripheral, the keychain bear sways.
Dan turns them down another smaller road, this one dirt instead of concrete, and accelerates suddenly, laughing as they hurtle through a grove of trees. Terror clings to Phil’s throat and Phil clings to his seat, a scream stuck behind his teeth. Next to him, Dan is laughing.
They slow down suddenly, back to a normal pace, Dan breathing heavily and still laughing a little under his breath. Phil’s heart is slamming in his chest.
“Fuck,” Dan says, steering his Jeep into a driveway off of the road. “Fuck, I love that.”
“Yeah, no,” Phil tells him. His hands shake as he lifts them up from where they were clenched at his sides. “Nope. No.”
Dan looks at him again. At last. He widens his eyes when he sees how pale Phil is, shivering and nervous.
“Sorry,” he says, and he seems to really mean it. “I won’t do it again. I like - I watched a lot of Formula 1 you know? With like, my dad, so I just like to drive fast like that, since it doesn’t really, you know, matter.”
He unlocks the doors. Phil fumbles his way out and sighs at the feeling of steady ground beneath his feet. Dan comes around from the other side of the Jeep and just sort of hovers there, nervous.
“I’m sorry,” he says again. His lower lip is caught hard between his teeth. Phil sighs and smiles at him reassuringly. His heart rate is already slowing.
“It’s okay,” he tells Dan. Dan nods. “Now what did you say about video games?”
Dan thoroughly trounces Phil at Nintendo, and also Scrabble, and he’s a terrible winner, all smirky and pleased with himself. He leans back against his couch and lifts his fists in the air Rocky-style when he lands a double score with the word muzjikz. Phil, whose tiles are mostly vowels at this point, groans and puts his face in his hands.
“That’s not a word,” he groans. “That is not a word, Dan!”
“It is!” Dan says, cackling, thrilled. “It’s what like Russian peasants were called under the tzar! Also,” and here he leans across the Scrabble board and grabs the sack of tiles, “bing-fucking-go.”
“You win,” Phil decides. He lays down on Dan’s floor and closes his eyes, his head resting heavy on his left wrist. Dan laughs. Phil hears the shuffle of fabric and knees on the floor, then feels Dan lay down next to him. He opens eyes again. There’s a skylight on the roof and rain has cleared, the stars slowly starting to show through the clouds.
“You give up?” Dan asks, propping himself up on his elbow and leaning over to look Phil in the eyes. He’s so close again. Phil could just lean -
“Yeah,” he says. His voice is hoarse. He thinks, from the quirk of his eyebrow, that Dan notices. “I give up.”
The waves on the beach sound like breathing, and Phil doesn’t know what to wear.
The stakes feel higher now, weirdly, now that he knows Dan is interested. And they only get to see each other once a week, so he has to look good. He stares at his reflection in the mirror and frowns at his shirt and his hair and his glasses. Nothing looks good. He should just hide here.
But - strange strong drinks that got better as he went instead of worse, and laughing late at night, and games of Scrabble with words like emu on the board. Someone talking to him like he’s a person, like he’s interesting. Flirting with him.
Phil isn’t going to hide. He gets dressed.
Blue plaid is safe, he decides, blue brings out his eyes, and black jeans, and glasses because Dan had liked them. Comfortable shoes. Once he’s ready, he goes outside. He breathes with the ocean and takes a moment to be grateful that he always finds himself at the lonely end of this pier. The salty air and the gentle warmth of the night calm him slowly, and when he feels ready, he starts to walk. Dan is waiting for him.
They'd arranged to meet up at the arcade, which means Phil has to remember where that is. It shouldn't be too hard to find - Dan had said to stay on the pier.
The sandy wooden slats creak slightly beneath Phil’s feet, the way that old piers always do. It's not storming tonight so people are out, shouting and laughing and playing music and singing along, joy and youth and exuberance. Phil wonders if this is what it was always like or if this is just nostalgia, here. A faint echo of memory.
8-bit music floats over the pier from a long low building lit up with multicolored lights. Arcade games chirp and flash inside, and Dan is leaning against the wall near the door. He stands up straight when he sees Phil, brushes his hands over the thighs of his jeans and grins when Phil gets closer.
“Hi!” he says, sounding genuinely excited, and Phil flushes warm and pleased.
“Hiya. Arcade?”
“Arcade.”
There are people inside, but not as many as Phil imagines there are at Tucker’s. He and Dan claim a Bubble Bobble machine and start to play, Phil grinning as he hears the plinking old music.
“I played this when I was a kid,” he tells Dan, claiming the little green player one dragon before Dan does. “So I will be good and I will kick your butt.”
Dan grins widely and bumps Phil with his hip. “Ooh, yeah, bring it on, mate, you’re going down in all kinds of ways.”
“What does that even mean?” Phil cries, but then a bunch of purple pixel whales come out of nowhere and he has to focus on shooting bubbles at them to save Dan’s little blue dragon.
They get to level 12 before they run out of credits, both of them laughing loudly when Dan’s dragon dives off the end of a platform and straight into the embrace of Baron von Blubba. Dan throws his hands up into the air and backs away.
“That’s it,” he says, his cheeks pink. Phil wants to kiss him. Phil isn’t sure where that thought came from. “That’s it, I’m done, I’ll be here all night if we don’t stop now.” His smile is making his dimples dip deep and the skin by his eyes crinkles sweetly. Phil doesn’t realise he’s staring until Dan cocks his head. “Earth to Phil.”
“Sorry,” Phil says quickly, shaking his head to clear it. Dan laughs a little and steps back to the machine. “You’re pretty good.”
“Better than you.” Dan winks, teasing, then ducks his head towards another game and raises his eyebrows. “Come on. Mario Bros?”
By the time they leave the arcade, it’s 11:50. Dan leads Phil down the pier to a spot on a rocky outcrop, tide pools gathered in the crevices of the stones. In the daylight, Phil imagines they must thrive with life.
Dan swings his legs over the side of their perch on the outcrop of rock, his feet dangling over the splash of the ocean. Phil wants to lean against him, so he scoots a little closer. Leans his head down. Dan tilts his head so his temple is resting on the top of Phil’s skull.
“Next week,” Phil says quietly, “maybe your house?”
When Dan replies, his breath ruffles Phil’s hair. “It’s a date.”
The waves on the beach sound like breathing. The sand is still warm beneath Phil’s palms when he leans back against the ground.
“It's beautiful here,” he says. Dan props his chin on his hand and looks up, his face tilted towards the pinprick stars.
“It is,” he agrees. Then he looks away from the sky and smiles at Phil, crunched-up and bright. There are tiny laughter lines in the corners of his eyes. “You don’t live here yet, then?”
“Not yet,” Phil tells him. “Soon, though, probably.” There's a pause. Then, “how long have you been here?”
“In San Junipero?” Phil nods. “Couple of months. Like I said, I’m a visitor. I’m staying long enough to enjoy myself.” Dan’s smile curls into a smirk. “Speaking of.”
He takes one more drink of his cider, then stands up and raises his eyebrows at Phil. “You are going to come in. Right? That’s what this wine and dining has been leading up to and I haven’t read you totally wrong and projected my gross pervy shit onto you?”
“No,” Phil is quick to say. The fact that Dan is nervous too makes Phil feel more at ease, somehow, so he stands and follows him into his house, up the stairs, down a hall, through a door that opens into a massive and beautiful bedroom, all white and grey and spacious with a massive window facing the sea. Dan doesn’t give Phil much time to admire it, though, busy as he is with fitting his thumbs on Phil’s cheekbones and his fingers against the curve of Phil’s jaw, and then their mouths press together and Phil forgets about everything at all.
They’re on a bed before Phil has another coherent thought - all he knows is Dan, vibrant and lovely and real, a heavy warm weight above him, mouth sweet like cider, fingers long and clever when he holds Phil’s face, wrists, hip bones, hands. Phil can’t stop himself from gasping.
“Are you okay?” Dan asks in a hoarse reverent sort of whisper, and his cheeks are flushed and his eyes look sort of dazed and they’ve only been kissing. Phil can’t remember how to breathe.
“I - you have to -” he gasps, and he bites his lip and closes his eyes. Dan leans down to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder. Kisses, gently, the soft skin at the corner of his jaw. “Show me. Please. Make this easy for me.”
Dan kisses that soft skin spot again and Phil hums into it. His fingers flex against the small of Dan’s back and Dan’s hips push forward a little. Both of them breathe in shakily. Warmth pulses through Phil’s whole entire body. He wants Dan to push forward like that again.
“This is -” Dan whispers, and Phil laughs “yes” and Dan rolls his hips forward again and Phil can feel him, can feel everything, and then hands are tugging at clothes and hair and skin and this is so gorgeous and strange and new.
Outside, beyond them, within them, the waves on the beach sound like breathing.
The clock says 11:42, afterwards.
Dan says, “stay.” His hair is curling and messy. There’s a little patch of flushed skin wrapping around the edge of his jaw. Phil leans in and kisses it, then falls back onto the mattress and blinks up at the ceiling. He never wants to leave this bed. His whole body is tired and sore, but it’s gratifying, a reminder.
“I’m going to sleep so well,” Dan sighs happily. Phil makes an agreeing sort of noise and the two of them lapse into peaceful quiet. Moonlight shines through the window and a breeze helps the gauzy curtains wave a little hello.
“When did you know?” Phil asks, quiet, after a little while. He rolls over onto his side and props his head up on his hand, his elbow sinking deep into Dan’s cushy pillows. “That you like men.”
“I like women too,” Dan says, and he lifts his hand and makes a fist. “Equal rights!” They both laugh slightly through their noses, little huffs of air in the quiet of the night. “But, er. I dunno. I guess I just sort of always knew.” He pauses. Shifts so his head is cupped in his hand and he's staring right into Phil’s eyes. Phil tries to ignore the way his stomach is fluttering. “I was married. For a long time, I was married. And she - I loved her so much, you know, but I still got these… crushes, I guess.” He closes his eyes briefly and lets out a little half-laugh. “You know. On my friends, my coworkers. Celebrities sometimes. Waiters at restaurants. But I never did anything. Never acted on it.” His voice is low and slow and thoughtful. It makes Phil feel calm. He reaches out and puts his hand over Dan’s gently. Dan doesn't hesitate to turn his wrist so their fingers intertwine, his skin smooth and warm against Phil’s own.
“But what about you, you must have had some relationships,” he asks. Phil flushes and shakes his head. “No?”
“Nope,” Phil admits. It's embarrassing, but that's - well. Dan looks a little bit thrilled, actually.
“None at all?” he asks.
“Nothing. I mean.” He shrugs. “I’m engaged but it's not. I don’t know. She’s a really - Her name is Sasha. She’s so kind.”
“Engaged,” Dan repeats. Phil looks down at their clasped hands. “And Sasha is?”
“Not here,” Phil says. He looks back up into Dan’s eyes. “And it’s not - it’s not really like that.” Dan tilts his head. He seems like he’s going to ask questions and Phil hopes with everything in him that he doesn’t.
“If you say so,” Dan agrees at last. Phil breathes out something like relief. It’s all just so complicated. He doesn’t want to bring that life here.
Dan reaches out and cups Phil’s chin again. Pushes his hair back and drags his thumb gently down Phil’s cheekbone. Presses it, for a brief and heartstopping moment, against the bow of Phil’s lips. Phil breathes out shakily and his eyes flutter shut at the soft weight of Dan’s hand on his face, dizzying somehow.
“It’s almost time,” Dan murmurs. Phil frowns and grabs Dan’s hand, pulling both of them close to his chest.
“Let’s just lie here,” he says. He kisses Dan’s knuckles. Dan nods and shifts closer so their legs tangle together, solid and warm.
The clock says 11:59. Phil closes his eyes and kisses Dan’s knuckles again.
Dan’s chin is set determinedly and Phil gets a weird feeling about it.
“I looked up Sasha,” Dan says. Phil sits down hard. The sky is swirling stormy and grey. He only just got here - he wishes Dan would wait. “Phil, I couldn’t stand not knowing. She - she said you were in an accident.”
Phil nods.
Dan sits down next to him on the stairs. He offers Phil his hand. Phil stares at it for a moment.
“It’s fine if you don’t tell me, Phil,” Dan says. Phil nods. He takes Dan’s hand, big and warm and steady. He takes a slow breath.
“I didn’t drive, my brother does though. So he was driving. We were going home from celebrating his birthday, actually.” Phil misses Martyn so much his chest aches, suddenly, like it’s cracking in half and splintering apart. It’s been ages since he’s seen Martyn. “Some, I don’t know, some jerk was driving too fast, came whipping ‘round a curve and smashed into the passenger side of Martyn’s car. I got hit, squished like a gnat. I’ve been in hospital on about twelve machines since then. And my parents love me too much to euthanise me. So, Sasha, my very very nice nurse, is getting married to me soon, and she’ll sign the papers instead of my parents.”
It feels so strange to tell someone what happened, to speak aloud his side of the story. Phil doesn’t want to look at Dan, for fear of seeing something like disgust on his face.
“Phil,” Dan says, his voice so sad that Phil has to look. He lifts his head and glances at Dan, who is sitting very still and looking at Phil intently, like he’s the only person who matters in the whole entire world.
“It’s fine,” Phil says jauntily. If he fakes cheerfulness he’ll eventually go back to feeling cheerful. It’s worked for the last 42 bedridden years. “It’s really okay.” He drops Dan’s hand and stands up, dusting sand off of his bum. The ocean looks inviting. Maybe he can drown himself to escape the slimy awful feeling of embarrassment that comes with revealing dark and tragic secrets.
“Well, don’t leave,” Dan tells him indignantly. He stands up too, follows Phil when Phil starts down towards the dunes. “”Phil, I have shit too! We all have shit! I have a fucking terminal illness, right, we all have shit but it doesn’t matter here! We’re just - I don’t - Phil, come on.”
Phil stops walking. Dan almost walks into him, jolts to a stop just behind.
“We’re not talking about this anymore, and you’re driving slowly from now on,” Phil says, without turning around.
Dan says, “Deal.”
Phil says, “Okay.”
They go down to the water. A reflection of the wide full moon wobbles in the waves. Dan tugs off his shirt and wades into the water, his skinny jeans now beach shorts, in the unexplained way that this place provides everything else, silent and swift. Phil looks down to find he is also wearing beach shorts, so he follows Dan into the sea.
The water is cool but not cold, the waves gentle and steady, swaying Phil as he stands chest-deep and enjoys it all. Dan ducks under the water and comes back up a few seconds later, shaking water out of his hair. Everything is lit up by brilliant moonlight.
“Where are you?” Dan asks. Phil bites his lip and swirls his hands through the water around him..
“Manchester,” he says, and then, “but I -”
“I’m in London,” Dan interrupts, gliding forward. He won’t let Phil slip in the but. “That's only like three hours. Let me come see you.” He takes Phil’s face in his hands. Phil’s breath catches and he closes his eyes.
“You won't like me there,” he whispers. Dan leans in and kisses him hard.
“I’d like you anywhere, idiot. Let me come see you.”
Phil’s watch says 11:59. Phil says, quietly, against Dan’s lips, “okay.”
The time outside of San Junipero is always strange and hazy but this is weirdly clear, a new voice and a phantom pressure in the memory of Phil’s arm, someone leaning closer than anyone has been in years and saying so, so fondly, “oh, hello, you idiot.”
Not a doctor, not a nurse, not Sasha who is so very very kind, and certainly not Martyn or Dad or Mum, so - oh, Phil wants to say, oh Dan, oh God, but there’s nothing he can do.
The waves on the beach sound like breathing.
The sun is blindingly bright, like nothing Phil has seen in decades. His chest clenches up. If he were that sort of person, he would probably cry.
A seagull soars across the bright blue sky. The air smells like salt and sunshine and Phil inhales it, lets it fill his lungs, and then he looks around and realises where he is, and who is on the beach with him.
“Dan!” he shouts. Dan turns around on his porch and waves, then hops down the stairs and jogs down the beach to Phil. “I’ve never seen this place in daylight before, it’s awesome!”
“Yeah,” Dan agrees. He’s looking at Phil with a strange expression on his face, urgent and contemplative.
“Can I ask you - Phil.” His fingers frame Phil’s face, pressed against his temples and jawline and cheekbones and chin. “Phil. I’m about to say something so - so crazy.” He drops to his knees in the sand and Phil just stands there breathless and stares. His face buzzes and hums where Dan’s fingers pressed in.
At Phil’s feet, Dan closes his eyes and tilts his head back and takes a deep breath. Opens his eyes again.
“What if you married me today instead?”
Phil’s kneeling too, before he even realises it. His eyes feel strange and hot and there’s a prickle in the back of his throat. He reaches out and pulls Dan into a tangled hug, heads tucked into necks and arms wrapped tight around each other. They’re both sort of laughing.
“Is this a yes?” Dan breathes, his mouth on the shell of Phil’s ear. Phil squeezes him harder.
“You’re serious?” he asks, always just a little unsure. Dan pulls back and looks him dead in the eyes.
“Entirely.” He shrugs and smiles a little, his dimple popping slightly. “If you’re getting married shouldn’t it be to someone you’ve made a connection with? It’s just a signature on a tablet otherwise.”
Phil wants to kiss him, so he does. Dan makes a surprised little noise and kisses back enthusiastically for a moment, then laughs through his nose and pushes away.
“We have to hurry,” he says, and he doesn’t seem to be able to wipe the smile off of his face, which makes Phil feel inordinately pleased with himself. “I only have a few more minutes. What do you-”
“Yes,” Phil interrupts. Dan’s eyebrows raise a little and his eyes go bright and wide, his mouth turning up in a wide open smile.
“Yes?” he asks, breathless and nervous. Phil tugs him to his chest again, hugs him hard.
“Yeah. Yes. Let’s do it, let’s go get married.”
And then a wedding that Phil hears but cannot see, cannot speak, cannot feel, except in his heart. He hears “hello, again, idiot,” and “lawfully wedded husband” and “I do” in that voice that is different but Dan’s, still, somehow, in the cadences of it, and he thinks I do, too, and pictures Dan’s bright oak eyes in the moonlit glow of his bedroom.
“Suspend all systems,” Phil hears another voice say calmly, and then, “systems suspended,” and then there is white light, and quiet, and peace.
The waves on the beach sound like breathing.
The sun is so bright. The sky is so blue. The beach stretches on clean and white for miles and the water is clear and cool, the tide a steady pulse. This is the most beautiful place Phil has ever seen, and now, it’s his home.
A car horn honks behind him and Phil leaps around, his bare feet splashing in the shallows. Dan’s black Jeep is parked by the dunes and Dan is standing up in the driver’s seat, laughing and waving, backlit by sunlight. Phil’s heart melts and reforms in his chest and he waves back and starts to run up the beach.
“Running!” Dan laughs when Phil is within earshot. His hair ruffles in the wind. Phil wants to kiss him for at least three years. “I’m honoured!”
“I have forever to get fit, now,” Phil tells him, beaming, ecstatic. Dan grins too, and jumps down from his Jeep.
“Hello,” he says, reaching out, grabbing Phil’s hands. Phil slips his fingers up Dan’s arms and over his shoulders, pulling him into a hug.
“Hi,” he breathes, smiling into Dan’s neck.
“I can’t believe you didn’t dress up to see me,” Dan teases, pulling back and kissing him. When they pull away Dan is wearing a glittering silver suit jacket instead of his t-shirt from before. His black dress pants end above his bare ankles and he catches Phil looking, grins and holds one foot up above the sand. “Beach-appropriate.”
Phil steps back and glances down at himself, then closes his eyes and hopes for something that Dan would like.
“Oh, very nice,” Dan says approvingly, so Phil opens his eyes. He’s in a black suit jacket with delicate gold overlay, and a white shirt and black bowtie that match Dan’s exactly. His narrow trousers aren’t cropped like Dan’s, though, so he leans down and rolls the hems up so they can walk on the beach.
“I love it here,” Phil announces. The wind ruffles his fringe and makes him feel awake and alive. “I love it here!” He turns to Dan, beaming, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It looks so real, Dan.”
Dan nods, but he isn’t looking at San Junipero. His eyes are following Phil instead, and he looks vaguely sad. Phil notices.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. Dan sighs and holds out his hand. Phil takes it and together they start to walk down towards the water.
Dan waits a while to speak. He keeps his eyes trained on the horizon, where the sun is starting to set, the sky staining orange and pink.
“I have to go soon,” he says at last, quiet and serious. Phil’s heart drops. He stops walking. He’d forgotten, somehow, in the rush of everything, in the bright glowing realness of it all, that San Junipero isn’t home for Dan yet.
“Well,” he says, forcing himself to rally, “there’s always next week.”
Dan turns to him. Their hands are still linked. There’s a little divot between Dan’s frowning eyebrows.
“I’m dying, Phil,” he replies. Phil’s eyes widen.
“Oh, shit.”
Dan shrugs. “It’s my time. Like it was yours.” He presses his lips together. His frown draws deeper. “But - I don’t know if I can stay here.”
Phil lets go of Dan’s hand. Dan looks at him, anguished.
“I can’t imagine not staying here,” Phil says. His voice wants to wobble but he won’t let it. “You’ve been given a chance to have - to have everything you’ve ever wanted. For as long as you want. For forever!” The idea of not having that makes Phil feel too small in his chest, a speck of dust inside a black hole, so he doesn’t. San Junipero is the solution. It’s real.
“Forever?” Dan says, his voice achey. “Forever is such an impossibly long time. I’ve been alive so long. I don’t know what I would do for forever.”
“You can delete yourself any time!” Phil protests, but then it registers that he’s almost yelling and he shrinks back apologetically.
“I just have to think about it,” Dan says. He presses his lips together. The sun is sinking fast into the horizon. “I’ll see you next week, Phil.”
Phil blinks.
He is alone.
A week in forever is nothing, Phil knows this, but it still seems to last an eon. He goes to Tucker’s and the arcade and he swims and he reads and he waits for Dan to return.
Saturday comes and it goes and Dan doesn’t come with it. Phil doesn’t cry but he stays in bed most of Sunday, and Monday as well. Then he goes back to his routine. He makes friends with a guy called PJ who hangs out in the arcade. They get to level 47 on Bubble Bobble without dying one evening and buy each other shots at Tucker’s to celebrate.
The next Saturday, Dan still doesn't come home. But Phil gets a call on the landline at the house, and when he picks up no one speaks. He can hear the sound of the Tucker’s crowd and a faint echo of breathing.
“Dan?” Phil says, because who else would have this number, and the person at the other end doesn't say anything, but they don't ring off either. Phil’s chest clenches with hope. “Dan, please. I'm so sorry.”
The person’s breath catches. They sigh raggedly. Phil says, “Dan.”
Dan - it's Dan, Phil knows it's Dan, it must be - hangs up.
Another week, long and boring and repetitive, the ocean and the arcade and Tucker’s and back. And then two weeks, and then three, full of the awful anticipation of waiting, and then there's a knock on Phil’s front door.
He opens it.
Dan stands there, soaking. Lighting flashes into the ocean behind him.
“Oh,” Phil says, and steps back, and closes the door. “Oh. No.” He opens it again. Dan is still standing there, his hand raised like he was about to knock, his hair wet and curling.
“Are you going to let me into my house?” he asks, and Phil laughs rather weakly and opens the door for him.
They're both quiet as Dan huddles damply on the front mat, as Phil closes the door and grabs a blanket for him, as they move to the sitting room and sink onto the couch that faces the window looking out to the sea. Outside, it is still storming.
“You called me, right?” Phil asks after a while. Dan nods but he doesn't say anything else. “So - so you heard what I said.”
Dan hesitates, but he nods again.
“I meant it. I am sorry. I pushed you too far. This place - you have to want it, and if you don't that's… I mean, I’ll miss you, but I’ll understand if you don't stay.” Phil holds out his hand. Dan reaches out and meets him in the middle with no hesitation. It feels like a good sign.
“I’m sorry too,” Dan says after a short pause. He doesn't let go of Phil’s hand. Phil stares at him, heart humming, stomach tense with nerves. He hopes his palm isn't sweaty. “I know it's been a long time. I just didn't log in for a few weeks. I - I’ve been very sick.” He pauses. He seems to steel himself. “I passed over.”
The whole world seems to stop and start again, brighter and better than it was before. The storm outside is letting up, the sky beginning to lighten, the sea starting to calm.
“You - oh,” Phil says, and then they hold each other very tightly for a while.
“You had it easy, fucker,” Dan whispers in Phil’s ear, “in that bed for your whole damn life, I had to do work to die and get here,” and it's dark and funny and Phil kisses him hard.
He can feel Dan’s heartbeat.
The waves on the beach sound like breathing.