2000 | 2002 | 2010 | 2014

Under the Floorboards

(Technoblade x Reader) link to Pt. II :)

Picking up a bundle of wood you let out a soft breath, you watched as it escaped out your lips in front of you in a small cloud. Trudging through the snow you made your way back to your house, well it wasn’t really your house. A few months ago you ran into Technoblade while he was searching for a new home far away from this place called L’manburg; he told you he was in retirement and was surprised to find another person all the way out here. As a wandering adventurer, you eventually won him over with your charm, wit, and humor.

That was a joke of course.

You both started a mutual trade agreement, on your way back from the adventures you’d always take a pit stop at his place so he could see if you had anything worth trading. It started slow, he realized you would come back very late at night, and very weary. He offered you to stay the night once, then once turned into twice and before you knew it you began to stay at his place after every late-night adventure. As you spent more time together he helped you become a better fighter, and farmer and you helped him learn social skills and how to cook food that wasn’t steak.

He never told you about his time in the country of L’manburg or why he was in retirement in the first place but you didn’t mind. Everyone has their secrets and even if both of you were considered friends at this point you never pried. Not even when you’d catch him mumbling to himself about chat, or the bloodthirsty look in his eyes after he killed an animal. You kept your mouth shut out of respect, you could tell he appreciated the gesture.

You earned yourself a friendship emerald after he introduced you to his oldest friend Philza, the man treated you like you were his family. It made you feel wanted and welcome, Techno had a little smile on his face the entire interaction as the both of you bonded. In his mind he was ecstatic his two favorite people were getting along. Techno walked Philza out of the house and returned holding an emerald out to you, you knew how valuable these emerald were to him. You were in such shock and awe you almost started crying which caused him to panic.

“I’ll treasure it with my life.” You told him kissing said emerald gently, blush spread across his pale face to his pointed ears.

“I’m glad.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Chat- chat stop I’m not simp.” You heard him whisper hiss softly but you ignored it, choosing to smile at him instead. He noticed and his blush only deepened. You took his hand, it was so small intertwined in his own, and squeezed it softly.

Eventually, the both of you grew closer than just friends which understandably scared the half pigman to death. You caught him mumbling to himself more frequently, especially when you both were out fighting monsters and gaining experience.

Things like: “I’m not a simp” and “Calm down I’m gonna protect her” as well as “I can’t just say that!” Were very frequent mumblings of his, your brow furrowed and after fighting a baby zombie you turned towards him,

“Hey Technoblade you doing okay?”

“Yes!” He sputtered out reassuring you that he was just fine by saving you from a Skeleton.

You two watched the sunset that same day from on top of a snowy mountain and he confessed to you. The confession was a bit rough around the edges but then again so was he, so to you, it was perfect. You took his hands to get him to stop rambling and kissed his knuckles. He made an embarrassed sound and looked away from you, you cooed teasingly at him and accepted. From then on you both were attached at the hip, well as attached as he’d let you be there was still that level of awkwardness that came with any new relationships but it was wonderful. You’d both spent hours by the fireside as he read to you, you’d help him care for Carl and get enchanted books all the while you were in awe of this magnificent and mysterious man before you.

Shaking your head smiling to yourself you trudged back to his house, the emerald around your neck bounced in tandem with your steps. Technoblade never liked leaving you alone, you reminded him constantly that you had a life before he was in it but he still seemed to be on edge. You figured it had something to do with his past so you did your best to reassure him that you’d be safe when he was away; Techo seemed to appreciate your efforts at least. Whenever he got back from what you assumed was visiting Phil (after all, Carl was gone), you were going to run him a bath and braid his hair the way he liked. Maybe you’d make him a nice dinner then you’d both fall asleep together while reading. It’d earn you some soft kisses and snuggles later, you giggled to yourself as you put away the wood. If you told anyone else this giant of a man, who you’ve seen wipe out hordes of monsters like it was nothing, loves to be cuddled at night they’d call you insane.

You wandered down into the basement to feed his cow but the sound of a blocks-breaking startled you out of your daydream. You whipped around pulling out your sword in the way Technoblade showed you and came face to face with a blonde child peeking out from the floorboards.

“What the FUCK?!” You both shrieked at one another, he moved to try and scramble back down the hole. You followed him down his ladder, you weren’t going to let this child get away with living under your boyfriends’ house so easily. You backed him into a corner and took note of his beat-up appearance and his attempts to look brave as he held up his hands. Sweat gathered on his brow but you didn’t let your guard down, before you could open your mouth to question him he began to talk so fast and loud you could barely keep up.

“OI, OI, OI, OI! LADY, LADY, LADY, CALM DOWNNNN CALM DOWN! SEE, SEE WE’RE BOTH IN TROUBLE CAUSE WE’RE BOTH STEALING- BORROWING FROM THE BLADE! THE BLADE KNOWS ME! I AM HIS LITTLE BROTHER, TOMMY, I AM SURE YOU’VE HEARD OF ME! THEREFOR I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING WRONG. YOU-YOU, ON THE OTHER HAND, ARE A STRANGER! YOU KNOW HE’S A BLOOD GOD RIGHT? HE’LL ABSOLUTELY KILL YOU, BUT BUT! IF WE KEEP THIS BETWEEN US I WON’T HAVE TO TELL HIM ANYTHING AT ALL FAIR? SEEMS FAIR TO ME-”

You reached your hand out to cover his mouth, your eyes narrowed into slits, “Start again. Softer and slower. Techno never told me he had a brother.” You watched the eyes of the blonde widen in surprise, assumingly at the notion that you already knew Technoblade. Slowly you removed your hand from his mouth but didn’t lower your guard. He cleared his throat, swallowing tentatively.

“I’m Tommy. We’re not related by blood- who ARE you?” he pressed still completely baffled at the appearance of a GIRL who knew Technoblade. Before you could even respond to him he let out another baffled cry. “DOES HE SIMP FOR YOU!?” He shrieked pointing at you as he waved his finger around. “THERE’S NO WAY- HE DOES HOLY SHIT!” Tommy laughed as you blinked rapidly, how was he able to read all that without you even saying anything? You were trying to process who this kid was while also being stuck on the blood god thing. You felt Tommy’s arm around your shoulders suddenly as he pulled you close. “Well, Miss Blade now that we know who you are maybe we can strike a deal-“

“Absolutely Not.”

“HEY! Come on now.” Tommy whined loudly, “I need your help here! Look I’m sure you know why he’s in hiding and all...and well...I might’ve pissed the same people off and-”

“Actually no. I didn’t know that…” You spoke softly deflating a little, “He’s in hiding? From who exactly.”

A look of shock came across Tommy’s face, “You mean...you don’t know? Like about L’manburg and his betrayal.”

“Does it sound like I know? Look Tommy you seem like a nice kid really, but you need to leave-”

“Nonononnonononono. Look it’s fine, I’ve been living here for weeks now-”

“WEEKS?” You snarled a pink flush coming to your cheeks, you grabbed the boy’s arm and began to drag him up the ladders in Techno’s house. Hee was going to kill you like actually this time. You were about to throw open the door but it swung open in front of you. Techno was standing there completely bruised and bloody and you immediately dropped Tommy in favor of him.

“Oh my god Techno what happened?” You breathed out a worried breath he was about to respond before he noticed Tommy. He grabbed you by the arm and pushed you behind him guarding you with his body.

“Tommy.” He snarled as the boy once again shrieked and booked it back down the ladder Techno turned towards you, “Stay here.” Technoblade commanded you softly the look in his eyes could only be described as desperate. “Don’t leave. Please.”

“I won’t…” You murmured watching him disappear after the British boy, you hoped he was going to explain everything to you after he dealt with the raccoon. You could hear them shouting from down below you, you couldn’t push it off any longer you needed to get answers from him.

~~~~~~

Part II maybe? Lmk if there’s an interest! Cause I love this man with my whole heart! Thanks so much for reading 🥺✨ link to Pt. II :)

Disc(o) Boy

Part 4

Part 5 [CURRENT]

Part 6

DT: @bargledblocks @snapdragonfirefly @artistconk

“Chat, I’ve been thinking-”

“That’s not good.”

“Fuck you! You know what? I’m not telling you what I was going to tell you-! Oh, look at the sunset.”

Chat clucked and chuckled as Tommy pulled out his camera, snapping a photo. Humming as he waited for it to develop, he nodded to his voices.

“Can’t wait until I can get a new camera, one that can record, too! Don’t get me wrong, the camcorder dad left behind works well, but it’s becoming a hassle, innit?”

The sound of disembodied voices harmonizing agreed with the child, watching as he put away the photo, swapping it with his water bucket. Jumping off the side of his cliff, he hummed as he landed perfectly, avoiding damage.

“Poggers.”

Phil couldn’t help but smile at his youngest son, watching as he conversed with his voices in a friendly manner. He was certainly skilled at mediating his voices, not letting them annoy him and corrupt his thoughts with their sometimes questionable suggestions. He watched as his boy collected seeds, changing course to collect skeleton bones. Before anyone knew it, tiny Tommy began obsessed with trying to use a creeper to get a disc.

Tubbo almost laughed as he watched his best friend scurry around, worry-free as he tried so hard to get a disc, determined to succeed. It was nearly sunrise when Tommy finally loosened his grip on his quest.

“I’ll read your “subs” in a minute, I need to try and kill a creeper with a skeleton. You know what? No. I’ve got my bones, that’s all I needed.”

The group was almost baffled with how tiny Tommy and his voices easily decided to drop the disc quest. Tommy’s precious discs were so close to never being discovered. 

“Quick! Before you die!”

Tommy navigated through the plains, avoiding arrows and zombies as he did so. His bright blue eyes, shining with adventure and joy, widened the moment he saw the arrow kill the creeper. Cheering alongside his chat, he scurried over to put the disc, examining it. Quickly stuffing it in his inventory, he happily ran away from the mobs as he made his way back to his house, full of excitement.

“And so it begins, the beginning of the end.”

“The kid was excited to get his very own disc. I don’t understand how a kid enjoying something he worked hard to get led to all of this.”

“Because he decided that those stupid things are worth more than people! Do you know how many things we’ve lost because of them? How many canon lives were wasted because he can’t let go of them?”

“He’s a kid, Jack. He shouldn’t even have to make such a stupid decision at such an age! No one should make that decision, so stop putting this all on my son!”

Jack huffed as he crossed his arms, biting back a comeback at the sight of both Philza and Kristin’s expressions. Sharing a look with Niki, he shook his head as he turned to face the small child he despised.

-

Ponk smiled at the memory, amused to see the young Tommy he had met so long ago. He watched as the child grumbled to the regular chickens and his Chat, leading the regular chickens back into their pen. He remembered the simple times he had with Tommy when the boy first joined. He remembered the quarrels they had as they bordered each other. He also remembered the moments of peace the two had in their own little corner, how he’d sit against the base of his tree, listening to the discs that Tommy would put on from his side of the fence. He didn’t care much for kids, but Tommy was some form of a companion in their little corner. Letting out a snort, he shook his head as Tommy half-heartedly dissed him to his Chat, a passive-aggressive tone when Chat mentioned that they enjoyed Ponk’s voice. He didn’t even realize that missed the kid’s company until now.

-

“What is that growling?”

The group watched as Tommy dug into the hill, searching for the source of the undead groans. Amusement filled Sam as he watched Tommy shrugged it off, deciding to head back to his home. It wasn’t until the vast amount of clucking and moans that Tommy realized what he had come across.

“A spawner? Do you reckon?”

The boy dug into the cobblestone, excitement and pride filling him as he saw the zombie spawner. Running about in joy, he finally composed himself long enough to secure it. After he was done, he happily made his way to the chest.

“Oh, what’s in the chest? What’s in the chest-”

Tommy froze for a moment, but only a moment, before breaking out in cheers. Doing laps around the small room, he paid no mind to his cheering Chat. Laughing, he pulled out his latest find, a disc. Running his hands over its surface, he smiled as he recognized it in an instant.

“Cat! Oh, I definitely need that diamond now!”

-

“Where do you want to listen to the music? Here?”

Tubbo smiled as he watched his younger self walk around with Tommy, joyful. Both boys were content, not yet in the hands of unfit responsibilities. No trauma, no wars, no exile, just Tommy and Tubbo.

“I’ll make us some chairs, one sec.”

The group watched as the younger boy scurried to craft chairs, his best friend waiting as they spoke.

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m not following, I’m just watching. You’ve made us some chairs, this is nice.”

“Do you want our chairs next to each other or one block apart?”

“Uh-”

“I’ll just make us a bench.”

“Yeah, a bench.”

Tubbo and Tommy both sat down on either side of the bench, leaving room for each other to feel comfortable. Humming, Tommy set down the music box, opening up his inventory to grab a disc.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start with-”

-

“I like the sound of this one!”

Wilbur froze at the voice, eyes widening. He ignored Ghostbur’s squeals of joy, spewing ‘awws’ and ‘how adorable!’ every chance he got. Clenching his fists, he glared at his father and brother as they perked up, eager to see a memory not familiar to them.

“You like the sound of all of them, you cheeky little gremlin.”

“Wilby! Take that back! I’m a big man!”

Wilbur smiled as sat on the couch, peering over to watch as his six-year old brother watched the disc rotate. Tommy had always loved music, always eager to listen to Wilbur play his guitar. He used to watch Technoblade play his violin, that was, until Techno dropped the hobby. Humming along to the tune, he nodded to his older brother.

“Yeah, this one. Hey, Wilbah?”

“What’s up, Toms?”

“Is it okay if I learn how to play music?”

Philza perked up at this. Music? Did Tommy learn to play music?

Wilbur feigned being in deep thought, before smiling as he tickled the boy seated next to him. Tommy giggled and squealed as he squirmed out of his brother’s grasp. Smiling, Tommy playfully stuck his tongue out at his brother, making the older boy roll his eyes. Standing up from the couch, Wilbur stopped the disc and put it back in its sleeve, much to Tommy’s disappointment. Biting his lip, he made up his mind when he held the packaged disc to Tommy. Tommy gently accepted it, eyes sparkling as he followed his brother to the front of the music shop. He watched as Wilbur paid for the disc, thanking the employee before leading Tommy out. Tommy was practically radiating with joy at this point. 

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s not a problem, Tommy.”

“Oh, I can’t wait until Dad and Techie come home tomorrow so that I can show them my new disc!”

Wilbur froze, furrowing his eyebrows as Tommy bumped into his legs. Sighing, he bent down to face his brother.

Quackity let out a nervous laugh as he pulled Karl and Sapnap close, enjoying being between the two.

“I know that look, it’s the bad news express.”

“Listen, Toms, I know you were looking forward to having those two spend the day with us tomorrow, but that’s not happening. I just got a letter from them that said that they’ll be gone longer this time.”

“Wha- but that’s not fair! It’s my birthday tomorrow! You only turn seven once, you know. They promised me!”

“I know, Tommy, I know. Oh, come here.”

Tommy bit back tears as he accepted his older brother’s embrace. Sniffing, wiped some tears away as he tried not to sob.

“They promised me, Wilbah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? ‘S not your fault. I love you, Wilby”

“I love you more, Toms.”

Wilbur smiled as he ruffled his brother’s hair. Giving a small smile, he nodded as he motioned for him to follow. 

“Come on, now. We still have your birthday party to look forward to! Besides, don’t you wanna show our new neighbors your disc?”

“Yeah! Tubbo’s gonna love it!”

Letting Wilbur carry him back to their little home on the outskirts of town, Tommy smiled as he traced his fingers along the pattern of the packaged disc. Nodding, he laid his head against his brother as he spoke up once more.

“Wilbah? What’s the name of this song?”

“Hm? Oh, that song is called-”

-

“-Cat.”

Silence filled the group as they turned to face the Minecraft family. Phil refused to face his sons or his wife, opting to stare at his hands. Techno kept his eyes closed, refusing to open them. Whether it was to put up a front or to be alone with his thoughts, no one knew. Wilbur and Ghostbur just stared ahead, the image of their younger brother being so small stuck in their heads. Kristin just wished that one of them would look at her. She opened her mouth to address her family, but she was beaten to it.

“You just...left them. Why?”

Phil pressed his lips together as he turned to make eye contact with Puffy, taking note of the anger in her eyes.

“I did what I thought was best at the time. It was for their own good.”

A scoff escaped from her throat as she shook her head. Puffy stood up, prepared to scold the man, only to be cut off by Tubbo.

“He waited every day for you two. He’d collect items and write down his fun moments so that he could share with you two. Tell me, Philza, Techno, when was the last time you spent a birthday with Tommy?”

They couldn’t answer him. They genuinely couldn’t remember, and that was something Tubbo already knew. They could only stay silent, could only think.

Tubbo smiled as he leaned back in his seat, humming as he watched the sky. Peering over at Tommy, he was pleased to see the relaxed and content expression that painted his friend’s face. Tommy hummed as he faced Tubbo, a genuine smile dancing on his lips. The volume of Chat themselves died down, mumbles and whispers exchanged as the voices enjoyed the tune. Turning back to face the sky, Tubbo nodded as he spoke up.

“This is nice.”

It was peaceful, beautiful even. Pure bliss and peace filled everyone as Tommy’s content feeling flooded into them, reminding them of their connection. This time was different, however. This time, they didn’t mind sharing such lovely feelings with the young boy. Everything was quiet and peaceful, and it was all thanks to the bond that was shared between two best friends. In that very moment, everything was perfect.

“All jokes aside, what actually is a fetish?”

Orange Blossom At The Bottom Of A Shot Glass

Summary: Salty is followed by sour, which should always be followed by sweet. 

Word Count: almost 3.7k

Warning: little cursing, little sexual tension, a bunch of sweet and fluff

Author Notes: ::taps on mic:: Soooo it’s been a GOOD while. The muse has been a little bit of a fickle bitch. Or a lot of one, actually. Also didn’t help that the last piece I wrote totally went a hard boom splat - gee thanks tall idiot Canadian one for that :P

HOWEVER, the muse decided to let go with some of the hockey boys and me play with some words for J’s Winter Writing Challenge. I’m just one day off deadline, though I still want to fill the other 1-2 I was thinking of. Thank you J for pulling this all together, you’re a peach. 

This one, is the first attempt at writing Tyler, so please be kind to a girl. It was fun to play in this little part of my hockeysphere/hockeyblr. 

I’m also maybe possibly most likely making this into a verse/series. Cause y’all should know that’s how I roll. 

The prompt from the challenge was:  “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“From the cute one in the three piece purple suit at the end of the bar, said to get you another of whatever you’re drinking,” Misty says, sliding the half-sugar rimmed martini glass across the copper bar top. “Wouldn’t even entertain doing this if I didn’t know most of them.”

“Thanks Mis,” you smile, pushing your empty glass towards her.

You peek down slyly towards the right. A gaggle of tall, well dressed men circle the far end. You think some look familiar. Then you see who Misty meant when he turns towards the front of the bar and towards where you’re sitting. You know straightaway who he is, know the reputation, the rumblings. It’s hard not to, as big as Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex is, it’s not at the same time. It also helps that you’ve been a hockey fan since birth, paying attention to the boys in green since you moved to Dallas a handful of years ago.

“Misty are you fucking kidding me?” you snap when she wanders back towards you.

“Nope,” she grins like the cat who got the canary. “You should go over and say thank you. Promise you, you may think you know, but he’s a good guy. The lot of them are.”

You shake your head no, downing half your drink in one sip before wiping your finger against the glass to lick at some of the sanding sugar. Misty’s blood orange martinis are your favorite, and a weakness you cannot kick when she’s got the good stuff in stock.

“Give me a blank tabcard and a pen,” you ask. “How many of them are down there? Do a round of shots on my bill, but lemme think of what to send while I write this.”

Misty places one of her pens, a card and your Visa to the right of your cocktail. You carefully fold the card in half, tearing it in two. On one half you cleanly script out your name and cell number while on the second half, you write a cheeky little note:

If you can figure out what the shot is, Misty has something for you. Thanks for the martini, the second always hits better especially when you lick the sugar rim.

“Mis, do you know how to make a reckless slut?” you snicker, capping the pen.

“Red-headed slut, but with whiskey instead of Jaeger yeah?” she questions, looking underneath the bar for a bigger, clean cocktail shaker.

“Honey whiskey if you’ve got it,” you respond, polishing off the rest of your martini before gathering your things. “Then it’s just a touch lighter on the peach. If he can guess it right, then you give him the second half of the note.”

“You got it, I’ll see you,” she waves, off to the middle of the bar to find more ingredients.

You carefully glance down towards the opposite end, noticing the boys all wrapped up so you carefully slip out to make your exit, smiling and shaking your head.

“I’m absolutely insane,” you say out loud to yourself as you head towards your car.

“Segs, my girl left this for you and a round on her for the rest of the motley crew,” Misty explains, slipping him the first card before handing out the shot glasses.

“What she say?” Jamie nudges.

“Other than I missed her licking the rim of her glass?” he chides. “I need to guess what this is and then Misty has something for me, supposedly.”

“I do,” Misty replies, handing the rest of the shots out. “She picked a bit of a good one to leave for you too. Cheers boys, bellow if you need anything.”

He lifts the glass, sniffing it at first, not having any clue.

“J, Rads you guys have any idea?” Tyler asks, they both shake their head.

“Bottoms up,” Jamie adds before they all tip the shots back.

“Anybody?” Tyler pushes again, glasses clicking on the copper.

“I know,” a voice chimes in from the back, dropping the empty shot glass onto the bar.

“Come on then Dicky,” Tyler urges.

He looks at Tyler, trying to hold back a laugh but it doesn’t work.

“It’s a reckless slut,” he manages out between his laughter. “It’s something else dark in place of Jägermeister. Slightly fitting, eh?”

The group busts out in hoops, hollers and their own peals of laughter while Tyler shoves at the one closest to him, this time it’s Alex.

“Whiskey, honey whiskey actually, so nice one there Jason. Winner gets this,” Misty trills happily, wiggling a card in front of the group.

“Hey, wait a second,” Tyler snaps, trying to lean over to snatch the card from the bartender.

“That’s the rules she set,” she says, flicking the card over to his teammate. “Take it up with him, he got it right.”

“What’s it worth?” Jason grins, fist bumping with Misty before turning more towards Tyler.

“Not whatever you’re scheming in that brain of yours,” he takes a pull off his beer.

“I was just gonna say take care of dinner tonight, but if it’s not worth that,” Jason trails off.

“Damnit Dicky,” he sighs, hand flexing around the bottle.

“Let’s go boys, they’re ready for us,” Joe interjects from the outskirts of the group, nodding to the back dining room. “And we like it here so no bloodshed, ok?”

You’re just about to slip the key into your front door lock when your phone buzzes in quick repeated blips. You juggle everything in, snag a bottle of water from the fridge before plopping down on the couch to see what has your phone trilling.

So, Tyler didn’t win the challenge, I did and Misty followed the rules passing it to the winner! Hi, I’m Jason.

::selfie of Jason with the boys scattered about behind him at the bar::

I’m refusing for a bit to give him your number. Want to spare and maybe prepare you before I do. Plus, it’s fun to watch him squirm for a bit when it comes to shit like this.

The reckless slut shot was a nice touch, so I’m hopeful in assuming when you spotted us, him really, you kind of knew who was all down at that end of the bar. Probably have heard some things about his adventures and antics, cause who hasn’t.

I can tell you most of it is blown out of proportion, don’t get me wrong he has his fun, but he’s not an asshole.

Maybe we can all do lunch after practice? I’m happy to play buffer if you don’t want to deal with him solo. We’ll go somewhere solid and make him pick it up :)

You cannot help but smile when flipping through the messages, making sure to save both Jason’s number and ridiculous selfie to your contacts list. You fire off a quick thanks text to Misty before you settle in to figure out the best reply to Jason.

You’re a good teammate and a better friend. I would also make him squirm for a bit too, little shit deserves a bit of discomfort.

I appreciate that, Jason – thank you. I know better than to judge a book by its cover, but it’s hard when the Cliffs Notes versions are face up all over the place. Plus, a lady can never be too careful.

Want to try lunch next week, the three of us? I can’t remember what your upcoming game sitch is like, sorry. Maybe PS214? Something good that’s not too fussy, but chill. Plus, they should have enough options for whatever your nutritionist wants you boys to try to stick to or options to totally cheat out on.

I’ve got some flex in my schedule for lunches, my later afternoons get to be what’s stickier.

You know they were having a team dinner, so you don’t expect a response right away, so you pull yourself together to wash up and get to bed. You wake up to a flurry of more texts the next morning, plans for lunch Monday their practice and a video clip of the two of them, which was utterly ridiculous and adorable at the same time. It eased your tensions just a touch, but lunch would be the kicker.

“There’s my favorite foodie,” Phil the manager says, hugging you immediately. “I was so happy to see your name on the reservations. Is this a work thing or a pleasure thing?”

“Little of both, I’ve got two possibly three of Dallas’ favorite hockey team joining me which is why I asked about the back-corner alcove,” you explain. “But I also want to taste some of the new things you’ve been floating both at the bar and on the menu. Nothing formal yet, but I’m thinking of trying to pull together something around new happy hour approaches.”

“I think one of your lunch companions just walked in,” Phil responds, as you catch someone walking towards the two of you from the corner of your eye. “I know him and his wife, they’ve been in a few times. Hey Jason, nice to see you.”

“Hey Phil, wasn’t sure if you’d be here, good to see you. You’ve met one half of my lunch date already?” he shakes Phil’s hand before reaching for yours.

“She and I run in the same circles, mutual friends, some projects that have crossed paths,” Phil adds. “We’re waiting on one more, yes?”

His phone trills, “It’s Segs, he’s parking now and apologized for being late. He had to let the pups out because his dog sitter couldn’t get there early today.”

“I was early, force of habit, so no worries,” you reply. “He’s going to be pretty much on time in the grand scheme. Plus, I got some actual work done talking to Phil before you got here, so it’s all good.”

“Jason, you best not be trying to steal her from me already,” Tyler claps his shoulder before setting his eyes on you. “You’ve got someone waiting for you at home.”

You can’t help but half roll your eyes and half chuckle, “Nice to officially meet you, Tyler.”

He reaches out, his hand easily dwarfs yours, “You too, Clementine.”

“If you are all ready, we’ve got the table you asked for set,” Phil nods to the right, into the dining room.

“You were mentioning your work when I came in?” Tyler questions as you all sit down.

“I guess you could say I’m a lifestyle writer, mostly food and drink but I’ve dabbled in some travel,” you say. “I started out with my own blog back when I was in college trying to figure out what I wanted to do with life and it kind of got a following from there. I refuse to say influencer, cause no I’m not. Not my schtick. Actual writing pays the bills, not sponsored Instagram or blog posts. I refused to let my baby No Fork become something tainted like that, I think why it became so successful.”

“Wait, wait. You’re A Girl With No Fork? Seriously, my wife is obsessed with your insta page and the blog,” Jason exclaims. “She’s going to lose her ish that I’m having lunch with you.”

“Still blogging but keeping that a little more separate now a days. There’s more bylines with Infatuation, Food and Wine, a good deal with some the local papers. I may have a piece end up with Bon Appetite if this pitch I’m working on comes to fruition,” you explain, taking a sip of what Phil just placed in front of you. “Trying to keep a little of that anonymity left to keep Fork as respected as it is. Your wife and I need to brunch at some point then.”

Phil comes by to ask about any allergies or dietary restrictions, the rest is up to him and the chef, and you know you’re all in good hands.

“So, a pretty girl with a unique name,” Tyler leads. “Feels like there’s probably a good story there.”

“I was a surprisingly early baby, literally my Mom went into labor at 35 weeks and in an orange grove. That was her craving when she was pregnant with me, a ton of citrus. Hence the name,” you smile. “It’s rare I hear anyone other than her use my full name anymore. Even my pen name for my byline on pieces uses my initials. Friends mostly call me C or Em.”

“No Emmy?” Tyler questions.

You shake your head, cheeks flushing. You’ve never allowed that by anyone; not that anyone has ever tried that out for size. It always felt to too special to you, wanting to hold on to that for the right person.

“Let me see these puppies that made you late,” you divert.

“Once you get him started on the three stooges, you cannot go back,” Jason rolls his eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you smile, making grabby hands for his phone. “Come on I know you’ve got a ton of photos and videos on there.”

“They’re definitely a handful, and not so much puppies anymore. Though Gerry would fight me on that, he’s the baby,” Tyler grins wide before pulling up a video of three dogs running around like crazy in what looks to be his backyard pool.

Lunch was more of the same, good food, good conversation and a bunch of joking around. Smart play by Jason to recommend it this way, he’s as much of a sweetheart as his texts made him out to be and helps ease some of the worries you had about Tyler. And Tyler, you found yourself gravitating to him a lot more than you thought you would. You all didn’t realize it until the shift change was happening how long you actually spent in the back booth. As you’re saying goodbye, hugs are passed around between the group of you this time.

“We’re keeping you around by the way,” Tyler whispers in your ear. “Welcome to the crew.”

You fall into a quirky but easy friendship with Tyler and Jason after that, eventually Jamie too once the boys drag him to one of your tasting outings. It evolves quickly from random texting to grabbing meals and drinks, hanging out after games, even meeting Tyler at the dog park to finally meet his trio of crazy pups during one of your crazy timed breaks in your schedule that matched up before he needed to get into his pre-game routine.

Gerry is running amok hopping around with a German Sheppard while Cash just wants Tyler to throw a stick for him to fetch repeatedly. Marshall, however, has taken residence with his head in your lap.

“I know your younger brothers are insane,” you coo, rubbing the chocolate lab’s ear as he nuzzles into your thigh. “I’m sorry I have to leave you with them in a few.”

“So soon?” Tyler asks, tossing Cash’s favorite stick a little father. “You like just got here. He also just doesn’t cuddle like that with anyone. Feel special, so you shouldn’t leave him either.”

“Only a quick break today. Deadlines looming and a bourbon tasting that need to get done if I’m meeting you guys later after the game,” you explain, fingers digging into Marshall’s fur again.

“At some point you do need to come to a game,” he sasses as Cash comes barreling into his legs, Gerry not far behind. “I know you’re a hockey fan, you can’t hide that Em.”

“Perhaps maybe,” you tease, rolling your eyes sticking your tongue out at him. “Ok Marsh, I’m sorry buddy but I gotta go.”

Marshall just slides his head further into your lap, while now Cash head butts your free hand as Gerry crashes into your legs.

“I’m so sorry boys, we’ll have another playdate soon I promise,” you call to them as you pet all their heads.

“Where’s my goodbye pets and love?” he cheekily leans his head towards you.

“Oh Ty,” rolling your eyes as you get up.

You lean in as you were going to kiss his cheek, but you just tweak his nose and flip his snapback off, “See you tonight superstar.”

Misty is thankfully behind the bar again tonight at Oak and Cork, except this time you’re in the middle of the crazy group instead of the far end of the bar.

“You hitting that yet?” Alex grins wiggling his eyebrows and nodding to where you’re leaning against the bar talking to Misty while she makes your drink.

Tyler shoves his teammate, “Dude.”

“First off, don’t be crass. Em is in the damn room. And that’s a no by the way,” Jason rolls his eyes at Alex after handing off glasses to the two of them. “He most definitely wants to; I think that she does too. They just won’t actually talk about it.”

“She sent you reckless slut shots, I think you can talk to her about fucking,” Alex replies, taking a pull from his drink.

“Emmy. She’s not just some random girl to dick and dump, Rads. Fucks sake,” he sighs, hand threading through his hair as he looks over in your direction where you’re talking with Jamie, Joe and his wife.

“Emmy, eh? That speaks volumes. Just ask her already,” Jason interjects. “We’re all tired of your crank ass. I’m going to find my better half.”

“He’s right,” Alex taps his glass against Tyler’s. “Go to her. Ask her. Kiss her. Less cranky, more goals, more fucking.”

Tyler shakes his head, downing the rest of his drink in one go. He snags a bottle of beer from one of the buckets left out on the bar for the group before he looks for somewhere to take a breather. You catch him stalking off to the patio, amber glass clenched in his hand with his brows knitted together.

“He ok?” you ask Jamie, pointing towards the door where Tyler’s walking through.

“That’s not a good Tyler face,” he sighs. “I should…”

“No, stay. I’ll go check,” you interrupt, polishing off your martini to head outside.

“Hard to have congratulatory drinks when the first star of the game is hiding out on the patio,” you call out.

He shrugs, not turning around at first but you can see the tension across his shoulders even through his dress shirt. You take a couple steps out towards him.

“Hey, come on. Can’t be that bad. Right? Nothing’s wrong with the pups? Your family?” you tread carefully not knowing what could have happened between the dog park and that moment.

He turns around slowly, not looking up at first.

“Tyler, what’s going on?” your concern lacing through your voice clearly.

“I still think about that night here, you know?” he starts, placing his bottle on the railing next to him before leaning back against it. “I was intrigued, girl at a bar alone on a Friday night. Gorgeous one at that. She kind of saw right through me but dished it back unexpectedly and pretty well. Then, then that damn chaperoned lunch. Kind of just rolled from there.”

“Ty, what are you saying?” you need to make sure where he’s going with this.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, it’s exhilarating and unnerving,” he fights out, coming off the railing. “I still think about kissing you, wanting that, all the damn time.”

“Tyler,” you begin, trying to move closer.

“Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Tyler fights out, hands flexing at his side but looking you straight in the eye.

You can see the clench of his jaw clearly from there, the fire he’s holding back in his eyes. Your breath catches, your heart skips and your stomach flips.

“What if I’m ok with that?” you whisper, slipping an inch closer.

“I need you to be sure, Clementine,” he looks at you carefully, pupils flicking wider.

“Clementine? Really Tyler?” you try to tease to lighten the thick air around the two of you.

“Emmy,” he exhales deeply. “Don’t. Please, not tonight. Not now.”

You nod once he opens his eyes, stepping closer.

“Use your words, Emmy,” he murmurs, one hand grasping your hip while the other comes to cup your cheek, thumb trailing across your skin. “I need to hear you say it, babygirl.”

You’re distracted for a moment, having him that close. His words swirl around your head, your senses are slightly overwhelmed by him. His cologne lingers in your nose and makes your eyes flutter.

“You don’t need to placate me though, I’m a big boy,” he says softly. “Friends is better than nothing.”

“I wouldn’t,” you jump in carefully. “It’s why I waited, why I’m saying yes now to you Ty.”

Tyler pulls you forward and claims your mouth. His tongue wicked, swiping at yours. Your hands slip up behind his neck with fingers tangling in his hair at the nape. You lose sense of time, all you can do is sink further into the kiss, and into him, until you’re out of breath.

“You taste like those damn orange martinis you love. I like it,” he sighs, knuckle trailing against your cheek. “I’ve never felt possessive, but fuck. The thought of anyone else sipping your sugar after that makes me see red, Emmy.”

“Is that the ass backwards Tyler way of asking me out?” you tease, popping up on your toes to nip at his bottom lip.

He surges forward and knocks the breath out of you with another bruising kiss.

“Come to my game tomorrow, wear my jersey. Let me show you off properly, let me take you home after, breakfast with the dogs on the patio in the morning,” he asks, this time his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “And the game after that and the next one after that, the next weeks and months ahead. Let me show you that I’m not that reckless slut you may think I am. You make me not want to be.”

You smile, nodding and pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

dsmp WIPs I wanna finish someday

Some of these wips has a hint of angst, but haven’t reallt dived into it. Each wip has a small explanation of the au after it. Feel free to ask about the aus.

General tags: death, angst, sbi as family, badass characters

Birds of a Feather

The wind was softly blowing through the abandoned playground, making an old swing creak somewhere. If the sun hadn’t been high up in the sky, Tommy would’ve said that they were in a horror movie.

Instead was it a perfect day to hang out with your friends and climb shit. Shit meant mostly trees and occasionally one of the small buildings on the playground.

(Tommy gets sent to the minecraft universe where sbi is his family)

----------------------

Something worth fighting for

Red, hot, searing pain coursed through his veins, the origin coming from his back. The muscles and tissue tears inside of him, trying to keep the bones connected despite the force trying to tear them apart.

"Please-" he chokes, his arm and hand stretched out in front of him, reaching for the door a few meters away- "please, just let me-!"

Another tug and his plea turns into a hoarse scream, his arm collapsing to the ground in a weak attempt to steady himself. It hurt, his body was on fire and he couldn't feel his wings.

The pull lessens and he lets out a shaky sob. "Please, j-just let me see them. I-I'll behave, just don't hurt them-!"

There was a scoff above him.

"You'll behave alright."

Then the muscles and skin give away from the hard tug and he screams.

He didn't feel his capturerer grab his other wing. He didn't hear his sons scream his name. All that consumed him was the blissful darkness.

(Phil is an immortal who gets forced to fight in illegal fighting rings in order to protect his family. Sbi as family)

----------

Strange Bird

Tommy hated the morning shifts. Having to wake up way too early in order to get some breakfast, perhaps take a shower which would only mean an even earlier morning, and then take the bike to the clinic.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that the clinic was run by Wilbur and Technoblade Soot, Tommy would’ve turned down the internship that was offered to him. Purely on the fact that it took about an hour by bike to get there for him. And to work on top of that?

It was hell to get used to.

But the exhaustion was so worth it. One year after working there, he had been offered a permanent stay if he wished and Tommy hadn’t hesitated to say yes.

Even if it meant that he still needed to get up way too early for his shifts.

“Morning!”

Tommy’s reply to the way too cheerful greeting got cut off and turned into a yawn making him make a strange noise instead.

Ranboo snickered as he handed over a cup of coffee to Tommy when he moved past him. “I thought you would be used to this by now.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy grumbled as he took a careful sip from the hot cup, letting out a blissfull sigh at the taste that promised for energy to come.

“Well, you’re in luck today. We don’t have that many patients today. A cat with [disease] [more animals in treatment]. Nothing out of the ordinary,” Ranboo said with a smile as he sat down in a chair by the table.

Tommy hummed as he went through the mental checklist of what he needed to do. “Alright thanks,” he said and downed the scalding hot coffee way too fast. Ranboo winced in his steed and Tommy would’ve symphitized if he wasn’t so used to it by now.

“You really need to stop that. You’re gonna destroy your throat,” Ranboo said, tapping his fingers against the table in a nervous tic.

Placing the cup in the dishwasher, Tommy shrugged. “Eh, if it happens it happens. Gotta go and give the fuckers their medicine so they won’t get cranky. See you!” And with that, Tommy left the breakroom and acknowledged Ranboo’s ‘good luck’ with a wave of his hand over his shoulder.

(Phil is a small bird hybrid and hybrids are rare creatures. Wilbur, Techno and Tommy are veterinaries who takes care of an injured Phil)

------------

Ashes part 2

It’s nice weather outside, wind gently blowing and the sun warm but not hot enough to make their walk unbearable. Years ago Phil’s bag would’ve been a picnic basket filled with food, drinks and a book to read if he didn’t get pulled into any games by his sons, Wilbur and Techno used to be good at entertaining themselves.

Now his bag contained one extra set of clothes, a book he only keeps for sentimental value, his last food supply which consisted of mostly carrots and a water bottle and several glass bottles containing a liquid Phil wasn’t sure of their effect. He prayed that they would work.

“You’re zoning out again, Phil.”

Phil blinked and gave Tommy an apologetic smile, the young man not looking impressed.

“Sorry, mate.This day just reminds me of some old memories.”

Tommy huffed and shifted the bag on his shoulder. “Doesn’t all these days do?”

“Mhm,” Phil hummed and his lips twitched in amusement. “I especially remember the day you and Tubbo roped Ranboo into dumping a shit load of snow on top of Techno when he was sleeping.”

The memory seemed to make Tommy laugh a little. “You and Micheal certainly enjoyed that show,” he said and there was the tiniest hint of a smile on Tommy.

Then it’s gone and Phil has to look away to stop his own sadness from overwhelming him.

“Is this really the right thing to do?” Tommy asked as he pushed away a half dead branch out of the way.

“It is,” Phil said with no room to argue as he ducked beneth another branch. “To live is the best way to honor them.”

Tommy didn’t say anything else, but Phil knew it weighed heavily on his consciousness.

It weighed on his too.

Soon the trees gave way for an open field with nothing in sight beside some hills and brown grass. Not a single tree as far as they could see. The sight made Phil’s stomach turn and Tommy had stopped in his tracks at the sight.

“Are-” Tommy swallowed loudly- “are you sure the portal is that way?”

Without a word Phil reached for the compass hanging on his belt and leveled it out, watching the needle settle to point southwest. Which was the way they are heading.

“Sorry, mate,” he said with a sigh and let the compass drop back to its hanging position. “Straight forward according to the compass.”

Tommy let out a series of curses and Phil turned his head to watch Tommy kick the small tree he was standing by. The tree shook and the leaves fell down, as if winter was coming instead of the tree being dead.

“Tommy-”

“That motherfucker is probably guarding that damn portal! Damn it!”

There was another kick and the small tree groaned under its assault.

Phil walked over and put a comforting hand on Tommy’s shoulder and there was a short moment of it tensing before Tommy briefly leaned into the touch.

“It’ll be okay.

(Dream has gone mad and killed everyone on the server, except Tommy and Phil who are trying to escape the server)

----------

The Bookshop

(Nothing written beside some notes. Phil owns a bookshop that’s alive and the books are basically portals to other worlds. The bookshop decides that it likes Tommy and that he will be Wilbur’s partner in protecting the books when Wilbur eventually takes over the shop)

Forgotten: Part 1

During one of the BAU’s most difficult cases, Luke meets a dedicated journalist who is committed to fighting for the underdog. Reluctant to trust the authorities at first, she finds a friend in the compassionate FBI agent. But as they draw closer, the challenges only grow with fear, hostility and a relentless unsub whose attention turns to her…

AN/ I actually did it! Here’s Part 1 which hopefully sets the scene. I’m hoping to update this fortnightly on a Sunday evening. Big plans ahead! I hope you enjoy. Please let me know what you think x

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, your back aching as you leant back in your chair to survey the empty room. The warm glow of your desk lamp was oddly comforting in the dimly lit office. Darkness pressed up against the windows and you could hear the bustling street outside, cars beeping and late-night revellers bristling with delight as they poured into the local bars. 

A part of you wished you were alongside them. 

Ping!

You glanced at your computer screen, your lips curving into a small smile as you scanned the email that had just come through. Another piece of the puzzle. 

Questioning and investigating had always been interests of yours. Even when you were young, your childhood games had consisted of mystery solving. Every school report had highlighted your natural curiosity and ability to challenge authority...or ‘backtalk’ as the teachers had put it. But journalism hadn’t even crossed your mind until your English teacher had encouraged you to take a work experience placement at a local paper.

You hadn’t looked back since. 

The long hours at university, the endless reports and tiresome essays had all been worth it to achieve your goal of becoming a fully fledged journalist at an independent news association. It wasn’t as glamorous as the movies made out. Most days were spent crammed into tiny offices with colleagues, chasing dead-end leads or struggling to piece together articles in time to make deadlines.

Pressure came with the job, but you had increasingly found yourself addicted to the thrill of uncovering secrets, holding the powerful to account and sharing truth with others. If you could make a difference in your own little corner of the world, you had to do it. 

It gave you a purpose.

“Shouldn’t you be out with your friends?” 

You almost jumped in surprise, too caught up in your emails to notice your boss staring at you in amusement from across the office. He gave you a knowing grin. 

“Another late night Y/N? I admire your determination, but you have to take a time out sometimes.” 

“I’m just finishing up a lead.” You explained, gesturing at your computer. “I’ll be done soon.” 

He flashed you a disbelieving look. He really did know you too well. 

“I promise.” You told him, smiling softly as he nodded in agreement. 

RING

You glanced down at your phone, your heart sinking as you recognised the Caller ID. Apparently your boss sensed your change of mood straight away. 

“I bet I know who that will be.” He said, gazing at you sympathetically. “Make sure you call it a night afterwards. You need some time to yourself sometimes Y/N.”

You nodded in agreement, your fingers already itching to take the call. “Will do.” You gave your boss a small smile as he waved goodbye, flashing once last concerned glance behind his shoulder as he disappeared into the elevator.

You took a deep breath before accepting the call. “Hi Anne, how are you doing?”

The familiar guilt began to build up as you heard her strained voice. It never got easier talking to victim’s families. In fact, with each one it got harder to accept that yet another family was experiencing unimaginable pain. 

“I know. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you.” You spoke softly, pausing for a moment as you heard her begin to cry. “Have you spoken to the support worker I put you in touch with?” 

Luke stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes furiously in an effort to stay alert. It was late even by his standards, but he desperately wanted to finish writing up his reports for the day. For some reason, despite being a member of the BAU for the past year he still felt the need to impress. 

To go above and beyond had always been part of his job. Besides it was nothing compared to the 75th Ranger Regiment. At least this job didn’t involve warzones. Sometimes he felt himself missing the action of the military, but soon after joining the BAU he had realised how rewarding it was to work closely with his colleagues. 

Hunting down criminals was something that came naturally to him. Protecting others was something he felt like he had to do. 

He let out a sigh as his gaze fell upon his file. The victims’ names appearing to loom out at him. The downside to the job? At times, it did also mean getting too close for comfort with unsubs. Getting inside their heads became increasingly uncomfortable the more he got to know victims and their families.

“I know why I’m here...why are you?”

He jumped at the sound of Emily’s voice, flashing her an amused grin. Trust his Unit Chief to be the only FBI superior complaining about their team working late. 

“I just wanted to finish up before heading home.” He told her, chuckling as she shot him a disbelieving look.

“Well, consider it an order from me to go. Linda Barnes can’t force us all to stay chained to our desks.” She joked, rolling her eyes sarcastically at the mere mention of their troublesome superior. “Besides I’m sure Roxy will be happy to see you!”

Luke let out a bark of laughter. The sound of his mum complaining about him settling down popped into his head. When will you have someone other than Roxy to return home to mi hijo? 

He nodded in agreement. “I’m sure she will.” He replied, holding his hands up in defeat. “Just let me finish this update for one of the families first.” 

Emily’s eyes softened at his words. She gave him an understanding nod. She knew how much it meant. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” 

Luke gave her a small smile of appreciation before he turned his attention back to his work. It was important to him to communicate with families - whether it was an update about court proceedings against unsubs, appeals information or just to check in with them at difficult times. 

It wasn't as if he were addicted to his job. But it could at times be all consuming. After all, it was difficult not to think about the dark nature of the BAU and the suffering of victims. 

Perhaps it had been what had happened to Phil that fuelled his pursuit? He knew what the pain of losing a love one felt like. So, he wanted to do everything in his power to ease the suffering for others.

He understood. It would never be enough.

“I bring spoils of victory!” You sang happily as you entered the newsroom, a box of delicious smelling doughnuts in hand. “I got the best of Maxine’s freshly baked goods.”

Cheers rung out and you laughed softly at the sheer delight on your colleagues faces. It was always appreciated to have a special pick-me-up in the office. The job could feel overwhelming at times and, despite the pressure, you all pulled together and worked closely to help one another.

Showing your affection with sugary goods was always well received. 

“You’re the best Y/N!” Your friend Jennifer exclaimed, grinning widely as she eagerly picked up a doughnut from the box you offered her. “Anything you need help with this week, just give me a shout.”

“Careful, I may take you up on that.” You replied, flashing her a teasing smile. The two of you had always been close friends and, as colleagues, you worked together well. You were there when she needed a push and she was there when things got tough you...which seemed to be happening more recently.  

“Please never move jobs Y/N.” Archie, a fellow journalist who covered local politics, joked as he enthusiastically tucked into his selection. “This office wouldn’t last a minute without you...or the doughnuts.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully before taking a seat at your desk. A contented smile crossed your face as you took in the jubilant atmosphere. It was nice to have days like this.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last. 

Your phone rung out loudly prompting Archie and Jen to flash you nervous glances. But you ignored them, taking a deep breath before answering the call. 

"Y/N Y/L/N speaking...”

“There’s a breaking story.”

It was another early start for the BAU team as they sat around the bullpen. They had all gotten the dreaded message from Emily earlier that they’d received a new case. However, she seemed to have been trapped in meetings with the FBI higher-ups for the past thirty minutes...which meant there was something much bigger at play than a regular case. 

“I’m just saying newbie, if you insist on wearing shirts like that? Expect it to be noted.” 

Luke rolled his eyes holding up his hands in playful surrender. “Ouch! I didn’t realise my fashion taste would be such an offensive to you Garcia.” 

The trendy blonde surveyed him with curiosity, flicking her fluffy pen at his chest teasingly. “You call a grey plaid shirt fashion taste newbie?” 

JJ flashed Luke a sympathetic glance, but still joined in with the rest of the team’s laughter as Luke merely shrugged his shoulders in defeat and chuckled warmly. Even when he was being teased for his lack of interest in clothes, it felt nice to be part of the team. 

Sadly their good news didn’t last as Emily approached them, glancing in concern as her FBI superiors filed out of her office. Linda Barnes flashed them an icy glare before moving towards the exit.

“We have a case. It’s a bad one.”

AN/ There you have it! Spoiler: their paths will cross haha! Sorry for the delay. This was meant to be up on Sunday, but I’m still working full-time so by the time I get to the weekend I’m usually too exhausted to write. Thanks for sticking with me. I know there’s not much going on, but please let me know what you guys think - storyline, characters, length of chapter (I’m agonising over this haha!), whatever you want to share. x

Taglist:

@aimzonicles97​, @reidsstudies​, @exceptionallytiredzombie​, @illegalcerebral, @captaintightpants58​, @abitofeverythinggg​

Late night adventure+ May&Daisy

Here you are lovely!!! This sort of went a bit off the prompt, so if it doesn’t work feel free to prompt again!! 💛💛💛

They were on the hunt for a birthday gift for Phil. It wasn’t exactly hard for Melinda to choose a gift for her husband. He was pretty easy to buy for. All one needed to do was find something history related and or something with just a touch of nerdiness and the man would love it. It was actually something Melinda loved about him, how easily he found joy in the little things in life. No, the tricky part of finding a gift for Phil was finding a gift for Phil with their daughter in tow.

Daisy insisted on searching for something perfect for her father and often it turned into a whole road trip just to find what would inevitably be something like a pack of trading cards and a card with a grumpy cat on the front (yes, that is what he had received from his daughter the year previously). 

There was also the timing of when they’d buy his gift. Daisy and Phil had the same work and school schedule, Daisy being a senior at the high school Phil taught at. She did, however, have about an hour's lead on him if she and her best friend Fitz didn’t lollygag and eat M&Ms in his classroom. 

Phil was the most observant person Melinda had ever met--next to herself of course. He could see a kid sitting on his phone in class from the opposite end of the room, could tell who was having a bad day and trying not to show it, could always know if a kid was cheating or not, and could somehow always tell what sort of something was hidden away in a shopping bag. And even though he’d pretend he couldn’t tell what he had gotten for his birthday, Melinda knew he knew. Hence the militaristic planning of the shopping trip. 

A few weeks before Phil’s birthday, Melinda decided she’d pick up Daisy from school and they’d head out on the road for a gift. After dropping Fitz off at home of course.

“Hi mom,” Daisy said, hopping into the passenger seat. “See how we got out here so fast.”

“Very proud,” Melinda said, hiding a smile. 

“Don’t be too proud. She nearly knocked over Sunil Bakshi while running through the halls.”

Daisy rolled her eyes, twisting in her seat as Melinda pulled off from the curb. “Well, he’s a jerkwad,” she said.

“Daisy.”

“Mom, you don’t know Sunil Bakshi. Dude has a snake for a tongue.”

“How would you know,” Fitz grinned, his tone flat but his face revealing his true meaning. 

“Oh, fork off Fitz. You know what I meant. Hey, Mom! Don’t encourage him,” Daisy said, shoving her mom’s arm playfully as Melinda cracked a smile. “I meant he was slimy,” she continued.

“We know what you meant.”

Once Fitz was up the steps to his house--Melinda had to pull down Daisy’s hand as she attempted to lovingly flip him off--the mother and daughter duo started on their quest.

Melinda looked over her shoulder as they turned at the stop sign. “So, what are you thinking for dad?” she asked.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Daisy replied. She leaned forward to turn on the radio, hooking up her phone to the bluetooth. “What are you in the mood for today, mother mine? Blondie?”

She gave her daughter an approving smile, the corners of her mouth ticking up ever so slightly but with all the pride in the world. “Blondie,” she repeated.

As Daisy sang along to the songs at full volume, Melinda focused on driving. However, she took photographs in her head anytime she could catch a glance over to the passenger seat, capturing each and every expression on her daughter’s face as she belted out the notes. 

It took just as long as Melinda expected to find Phil’s gift. They went to about a dozen stores--luckily most were in strip malls so they just walked from one door to the next--and spent far too much time in each. 

As it often did, it also devolved into many minutes spent leisurely touching the sleeves of shirts, sorting through sales sections, and smelling every scented candle in Bath and Bodyworks. On most shopping expeditions, Melinda was good at getting in and out and going home, but if she were being honest, the time spent with her daughter was worth the ambling about. 

They stayed until all the stores were beginning to close, but they eventually found Phil a nice new tie, a model red corvette to twin with Lola, and a coffee table book with famous historical photographs. 

For someone who could stay up until the earliest hours of the morning, Daisy had never been able to stay awake in the car. As a baby, if she ever got fussy Melinda and Phil would pack her into the car and go on a nightly drive, lulling her to sleep with passing street lights and the soft humm of tires rolling over the road. Even now, at nearly eighteen years of age, Daisy had to fight to stay awake in the passenger seat. But it wasn’t long until her head tilted to lie against the window, her legs curled up on her chair and her eyes fluttering closed as she held tightly onto her father’s bag full of gifts. 

Hitting a stop light, Melinda reached over to brush her daughter’s hair back behind her ear, smoothing her thumb across the line of Daisy’s brow. And looking at the look of pure peace on her daughter’s face, Melinda smiled.

Brotp Prompts

Scream - 2

Here is chapter 2 of Avengers AU of Scream for @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho spooky challenge. Planning on breaking up the rest of the story into 2 chapters.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Y/N Weathers; Avengers x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: suspense, inappropriate jokes, mentions of gore 

Natasha was sitting at her desk in her room, working on an essay for her English Literature class the next day. She was putting the finishing touches, when she heard a rustling from the tree outside her window. Natasha made her way over to the window and was looking out.

“Boo!” Clint, Natasha’s boyfriend, popped up.

Natasha jumped back and let out a small scream. “Jesus, Clint. What the hell?” She smacked his arm as he climbed through the window.

A knock sounded from her bedroom door. “Natasha? Is everything ok? I heard a scream”

Natasha raced to the door before her dad, Phil, could come in. She opened the door a little to put her face in the doorway. “Yeah. Sorry. I have Deep Blue Sea on and I’m at the part where the shark jumps out and eats Samuel L. Jackson. Gets me every time.”

Phil just laughed. “The actor that looks like the dean of your college?”

“Yeah. Not that we can ever say that to Fury. I don’t think he’s a fan of getting compared like that.”

“Fair enough. Well, I also wanted to say bye before tomorrow. My flight is pretty early. Don’t forget I’ll be staying at…”

“The Hilton by the airport. I got it, Dad.”

“There’s money for food by the phone downstairs.”

“Are you going to visit that violinist while you’re there?” Natasha asked her father. He had met the woman on a business trip last month. Natasha knew that before her mother died, her parents were going through a rough patch, so Natasha wanted to see her dad happy again.

Phil blushed.  “Maybe. She and I have just been chatting. I don’t know if it’ll go anywhere.”

“That’s fine, Dad. It doesn’t have to. I’m just happy to see you put yourself out there. I guess I’ll say goodnight and have a safe flight.” Natasha moved out of her room to hug Phil. He hugged her back.

“I’ll see you on Monday. Night, Nat.”

Natasha moved back into her room and closed the door. A stuffed bear popped up from the other side of the bed. “That was close,” Clint said in a silly voice.

“What are you doing here, Clint?”

Clint got up and sat on the edge of the bed. He chuckled. “I was watching Exorcist and it made me think of you, so I decided to come over.”

“A horror movie made you think of me?” Natasha crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“When we started out, we were rated R on our way to NC-17. But these days, we seem to have a PG rating.”

Natasha thought for a moment. “With what happened to my mom last year, I’m sorry I haven’t been up for more.”

Clint started shaking his head while Natasha was talking. “I know you’ve been dealing with that. I’m not bringing it up to pressure you into anything. I just, I kind of miss where we used to be.”

Natasha sighed. “I miss where we used to be too. I just need time.”

“I get it. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Now, you need to get out of here in case my dad hears you. I don’t need him kicking your butt.”

Clint climbed out of the window but leaned his face in. He puckered his lips. Natasha smiled and rolled her eyes. She moved close to him and they shared a soft kiss.

“Hey, Clint. Would you settle for a PG-13 relationship?”

“What’s a PG…” Clint started. Natasha lifted up her sleep shirt to flash him. Clint stared at her for a moment. Natasha lowered her shirt and laughed. “You’re dangerous, Nat.”

“Love you,” Natasha responded.

“I love you, too.”

After Clint left, Natasha finished her essay, shut off her laptop, and went to bed.

When Natasha approached the campus the next morning, there were dozens of police cars with their lights flashing all over the parking lot. There were reporters everywhere. “The brutal murder of Sharon Carter and Steve Rogers…” “The worst crime since the murder of Maria Coulson almost one year ago…” Natasha could hear random sentences from the reporters.

Wanda Maximoff ran up to Natasha. “Hey, did you see the post on Shieldbook last night?”

Natasha looked her best friend. “No. I had the essay for Lit to finish and just went to bed. I didn’t look at any social media last night.”

“Sharon Carter and Steve Rogers were murdered last night. Sharon’s body was hanging from a tree. The killer took a picture and posted it to Shieldbook.”

Natasha ran her hand along her face. “Oh my God. Sharon sits next to me in Lit.”

“Well, not any more. Anyways, not only was the picture posted on Shieldbook, her aunt Peggy is the one that found the bodies.”

“That poor woman.”

The girls made their way towards the front entrance to the school.

“Natasha! Natasha!” yelled a voice from about 20 feet away. Y/F/N Weathers ran up towards Natasha.

“Oh no.” Natasha hated the reporter. Y/F/N Weathers covered her mother’s murder a year ago. Weathers argued that the person charged, Bruce Banner, was innocent. She tried to argue that Natasha was a liar and was crazy. Natasha was certain that the person she saw leaving that night was Bruce. She was even able to identify the jacket, which had her mother’s blood all over it.

“Natasha, what are your thoughts on the murders that happened last night?” Y/N asked, hold a microphone towards Natasha.

“No comment.”

“Do you think they’re related to your mother’s murder?”

It took everything Natasha had in her to not punch Y/N. Wanda jumped in, “What the hell is your problem, bitch?”

Natasha grabbed her friend’s arm and led her away. “Not the time, Wan. She’s not worth it.”

“She deserve a major punch for the shit she’s put you through. You saw Bruce Banner leaving that night. And she keeps trying to drag you through the mud.”

“I know! I know! I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve it. I just don’t want more attention on me than what’s going to already be on me. Let’s just get to class.”

The girls made their way to their class. Natasha couldn’t stop staring at the seat next to her that was usually filled with Sharon. They weren’t the closest of friends, but they would often pass notes in class. As Natasha was lost in thought, an officer came into the room and passed a note to the professor.

“Natasha?” Natasha looked up at her professor. “It would appear it’s your turn.”

Natasha grabbed her bag and walked to the dean’s office.

“Who’s next?” Dean Fury asked.

“Um, Natasha Romanoff,” Deputy James Barnes said, looking at the list.

“Isn’t she the daughter of…” one of the deputies started to ask, when Natasha walked in.

“Have a seat, Ms. Romanoff-Coulson,” Dean Fury said, gesturing to the seat.

“Thanks. Hi Bucky.”

“Hi Nat. It’s Deputy Barnes today though.”

Natasha looked down at her hands. “Sorry.”

Dean Fury decided to take the lead on the questioning. “So Ms. Romanoff-Coulson, how well did you know Sharon or Steve?”

Natasha thought about it for a moment. “Sharon and I had a few classes together. I knew Steve through a few other classes. We didn’t really hang out outside of school; we just ran in different circles and were involved in different activities, so we just weren’t close.”

Bucky jotted down her answer. “Natasha, were you aware of anyone have a problem with either of them?”

“No. They were two of the nicest people. I can’t figure out why anyone would go after them.”

“Okay. Thanks. That’s all the questions I have for you,” Bucky said as he checked off something on his paper.

Natasha left the office. By that time, classes were over for the morning. She went to the courtyard by the student union, where Wanda, Clint, Wanda’s boyfriend, Thor, and Thor’s brother, Loki, were all sitting. They were discussing the murders and everything else that was going on.

“I wonder who did it,” Wanda said as she took a bite of her sandwich. “I saw that picture on Shieldbook. She was gutted. I can’t imagine how wrecked seeing that made her aunt.”

Loki leaned over Thor’s shoulder, “didn’t she turn you down for a date, Thor?”

Wanda looked at her boyfriend. “You told me you turned her down for me.”

Thor looked at his brother and then turned back to Wanda. “He’s lying, love. You know how he likes to stir up trouble.”

“How could anyone do that?” Natasha wondered aloud. Clint put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

“I heard they found her liver in the mailbox.” Loki said with a sneer.

“Just liver alone,” Thor said with a laugh. “Get it? LIVER alone?”

Natasha jumped to her feet and stormed off. Clint looked at the brothers. “Nice going guys.”

Loki looked at him with faux innocence. “What?”

Later that afternoon, Natasha was home and clearing up before Wanda got there. She held her phone between her shoulder and ear. “You sure you don’t mind staying over?”

“Of course not,” Wanda said. “It’ll be a fun sleepover weekend. I’m going to stop by the liquor store for provisions. Anything specific you want?”

“Nah. I’m good with anything. Just try to get here before dark. These murders have everyone spooked.”

After they hung up, Natasha decided to take a short nap in her room before Wanda got there. About two hours later, she awoke with a start. She looked at her phone and saw how much time had passed. She sent a text to Wanda to see where she was. As she was walking towards downstairs, her phone went off.

Natasha answered without looking at the screen. “Wanda, when are you going to get here?”

“Hello, Natasha,” a voice said. Natasha was unable to tell if it was male or female.

“I’m sorry. I’m waiting on a friend. Who is this?”

“You tell me.”

“Well I have no idea.”

“Scary night, isn’t it? With the murders and all, it’s like something out of a scary movie, huh?”

“Loki, you’re giving yourself away. Are you calling from work? Wanda is on her way to pick some stuff up.”

“Do you like scary movies, Natasha?”

“I like that thing you’re doing with your voice, Loki. It’s sexy.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Oh come on, you know I don’t watch that shit.”

“What’s the matter? Too scary for you?” The voice had a playful tone to it.

“No. It’s just, what’s the point? The killer is stalking some big-breasted girl who can’t act, chasing her up the stairs when she should be running out the front door. It’s insulting.”

“Are you. . . alone in the house?”

“Loki, that’s so unoriginal. I’m so disappointed in you.”

“Well, maybe that’s because I’m not Loki.”

Natasha started to look around. “So, who are you?”

“The question isn’t ‘who am I’ but rather ‘where am I’?”

“So, where are you?”

“Your front porch.”

Natasha felt her heart drop. She walked to the door. “My porch huh? Well, I call your bluff.” Natasha opened the door and walked out onto the porch. She looked around but didn’t see anyone. “So, where are you?”

“Right here.”

Natasha still couldn’t see anyone. After looking for a few moments, she held the phone back up to her ear. “Can you see me right now?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh really? So, what am I doing right now?” Natasha stuck her finger up her nose and started to turn around. “What am I doing? Hello?” she yelled into the phone.

There was no answer from the mysterious caller.

“That’s what I thought. Tell Wanda to hurry up. Okay? Bye now.”

As Natasha went to hang up, the voice called out, “if you hang up on me, you’ll die just like your mother! Do you want to die, Natasha? Your mother sure didn’t,” the voice taunted.

“Fuck you, you asshole.” Natasha ran back into the house and locked the door, including sliding the chain into place. As she backed away from the door, the hall closet flew open and a figure dressed in a black cloak with a white face jumped out, a knife in its raised hand. The figure slammed her body against the door. As Natasha fell to the ground, she swept the attacker’s feet out from under them and they fell to the ground. She kicked them in the face and got up.

Natasha tried to open the door, but in her haste, she forgot to undo the chain. She yanked the door open but was stopped short by the chain. The attacker got up and lunged at her again. Natasha barely managed to get away and she ran up the stairs to her bedroom. The attacker was close behind her. She ran into her bedroom and slammed the door closed. She locked the door and then opened her closet door, so that if her door opened, it would block the other door from opening all the way. As she backed away, the attacker threw their body against the door. The lock gave way but the other door prevented her door from opening all the way. The attacker pushed their arm through the small opening, waving the knife around.

Natasha was glad that her dad insisted on keeping a landline for the house and she picked up the receiver to call 911. As the call was going through, the attacker disappeared from the door. All of a sudden, BAM. Clint jumped at the open window and started to climb in. Natasha ran to her boyfriend and helped him get through the window. “Oh thank God.”

“Nat, what’s going on? The door was locked and I heard screaming.”

“There’s a killer in the house. He’s in the house.”

“He’s gone, Nat. It’s okay,” Clint soothed.

As Natasha hugged Clint, a thud resounded through the room. Natasha looked down to see a cellphone on the floor. Natasha backed away from Clint.

“Nat, what’s wrong?”

Natasha opened her doors and ran down the staircase, Clint running behind her. “Nat, wait!”

Natasha opened the door and came face with the mask of her attacker. She let out a scream.

Home Sweet Home

Summary: Dan and Phil moving through the years.

Word Count: 1520

Genre: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, 3 Times 1 Time

Warnings: A couple swears

Author’s Note: This fic was written for @phloridas​, who's been having a rough couple weeks due to some *ahem* unmentionables. Claire deserves the world, but I hope this little fic can make her smile :) Special thanks to @pasteldnp​!

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

2011

Dan looked around the flat at the boxes littering every surface. It was an overwhelming reminder of the fact that this was real. He was really moving in with Phil, and that was terrifying.

He’d moved away from home already to go to uni, of course, so that wasn’t the scary part. He felt no concerns about moving from his parents. The fear instead came from the unknown. They had no idea how long YouTube would last or if it would be enough to sustain them at all, not to even mention that they didn’t know if they would last.

Dan had no reason to believe they’d break up, of course. They were moving in together, after all, and they loved each other deeply. But the anxiety was still there. What would happen if they broke up? Dan would have to move back out, which would be a long and difficult process.

Actually, the more Dan thought about it, the more worried he felt. What was keeping them together? Phil was way out of his league, clearly, and there was no way he wanted to deal with all of Dan’s issues, not after the intense drama of him dropping out. Dan was just a temporary fling, and now someone to help pay the rent, until somebody better came along. And when Phil realized all this, Dan would have to, what, move back home? The thought of losing Phil made Dan’s chest tighten and breathing quicken.

“Dan?” Phil’s voice broke Dan from his thoughts.

He turned around to see Phil standing in the doorway, brow wrinkled in concern but smiling softly.

“You okay?” Phil asked. “You were standing there for a while.”

Dan’s lower lip trembled against his will. “I’m-” a sob escaped.

“Bear!” Phil crossed the room in a flash, somehow avoiding all the boxes with a shocking gracefulness. He wrapped Dan in a hug with his chin resting on Dan’s head. “Sh, it’s okay, I’m here. Just breathe, okay?”

A few minutes later, Dan had calmed enough to speak.

“Sorry, I’m just scared. I love you so much and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Lose me?” Phil quietly exclaimed. “Bear, I’m not going anywhere. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’d never give that up. It’s okay to be scared, though, this is a big step. But I’m right here with you and I’m ecstatic that I get to say that now, no more long-distance calls or taxis just to see each other. I’ll always be here to hug you, now.”

Dan sniffed. “You made me cry again, jerk,” he mumbled, but the fondness pouring out of his tone made it less than convincing. “I love you,” he said again.

“I love you, too,” Phil replied, kissing Dan’s forehead.

As frightened of the future as he was, Dan was also excited. The future was a mysterious unknown and utterly terrifying, but there before him stood the familiar, the comforting. Phil was such a solid foundation of affection and support that Dan knew everything would turn out okay and all of this was worth it.

After a few more minutes, Dan pulled away, now calm and ready for the next step in their lives together. “Let’s get these boxes unpacked, yeah?”

 2012

“Why are you lying on the floor?”

Dan groaned dramatically, wiggling so his forehead pressed more firmly against the floor. “Can’t be bothered to move.”

A snicker came from above. “We already did that, we just have to unpack now. I can’t do that if you’re lying on the floor like a beached whale.”

They’d just made the move to London to be closer to the radio show. They had absolutely no furniture assembled so far and barely anything unpacked from their unholy number of boxes. Really, who needed this much stuff?

“That sounds like work,” Dan whined. “I’m perfectly comfortable right here on the floor.”

Phil let out an exaggerated sigh. “Alright, guess I’ll assemble the bed myself and you can sleep on the floor alone…”

“Floor’s comfy,” grunted Dan into the floorboards. “And it won’t steal my blankets or put freezing feet on my calves.”

“Oi, I resent that.”

“And the floor won’t keep talking when I’m trying to ignore the world.”

Phil started walking away, calling over his shoulder, “Enjoy your new boyfriend, then, see if he lets you be the big spoon.”

Dan’s head shot up. “You’ll let me be the big spoon?”

“Eh, maybe. If you’re good.” Phil kept walking. “But if we don’t have a bed by nighttime… and look at that, it’s already evening…”

Dan would later swear he’d never successfully stood up so fast in his life.

2017

“Thank fuck for aircon,” Dan said as he faceplanted onto their new bed.

“You can say that again,” Phil agreed, following suit.

“Everything’s sore,” Dan whined. “There are too many boxes and they’re all too heavy.” He turned his head to pout at Phil. “Massage me?”

“No way, bub, I’m too tired.”

“Ugh, rude.” Dan turned his head back the other way. They’d fully unpacked their bedroom today, so it was now decorated to a perfect moon aesthetic. It was the kind of aesthetics Dan would’ve only dreamed of when he was younger.

It was simple- a nice, clean monochrome, and the room was without clutter. If only that would last; Dan had too much experience living with Phil by now to even dare to hope that their room would be anything less than a live-in sock drawer within a week. As annoyed as he made himself out to be about the socks, he could feel a fond smile creeping onto his face. Phil was ridiculous, yes, but he was Dan’s, and Dan would never get tired of that knowledge.

Suddenly, Phil flopped his arm around next to him, earning a few “Hey!”s and “Phil what the fuck are you doing”s along the way, but his hand reached its destination eventually and their fingers linked. Dan turned his head to Phil again, eyes were squinted and his lips pursed in fake annoyance.

“You hit me in the head three times when you could’ve just asked, you knob.”

Phil shrugged, eyes twinkling with affection. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Dan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“C’mere,” Phil demanded, rolling onto his back and opening his arms. He tugged on their clasped hands encouragingly.

“Bossy,” Dan grumbled through his smile. Happily, Dan wiggled his way onto Phil’s chest, appreciating the familiar squish of his body.

“You love it,” Phil replied, reaching his free hand up to run his fingers through Dan’s curls.

“Hmm, I suppose so,” Dan hummed. He reached his head up to kiss Phil’s jaw, then yawned. “I’m gonna sleep on our brand new bed in our brand new flat.”

Phil sighed contentedly. “Our brand new mouse-free flat without the cracks in the ceiling or a gas leak.”

“A flat that isn’t trying to kill us, can you believe it?” Dan mumbled into Phil’s shirt. “It’s a fucking miracle.”

“And soon, it won’t be just a flat,” Phil whispered.

Dan smiled sleepily up at Phil. “Soon, it won’t be just a flat,” he agreed.

Forever Home

Standing in front of their new house, Dan felt a lot of emotions.

He hadn’t expected to cry, not really; this was a long time coming and they’d been itching for this moment for years. But he supposed all that waiting turned into relief the moment they walked up the short path and unlocked the front door.

Of course, they’d been inside the house before when they were still house hunting, but this was the first time it was actually theirs. This was the culmination of years of waiting and wanting and trying and having to step back and realize it just wasn’t time yet, but it finally was time. They were going to move in and Dan was going to spend the rest of his life with Phil in this house. They were proper adults now, with a lawn and a garden and a little stone path to the road. There was a garage and a fence out back for when they’d get a dog, and there was enough space for so much more. Every one of Dan’s dreams for the future was tied to a house like this, and now they could all come true.

They would put a pride flag out front. They had a tub big enough to actually fit their lanky limbs in the master bedroom’s ensuite. A few extra bedrooms were just down the hall from theirs, so they could host their families or friends and, one day, their kids. Settling down and starting a family was just a few packed-up boxes away, and the sheer potential of it all was overwhelming.

Phil’s hand gave Dan’s a reassuring squeeze as they stepped into what would soon be their lounge. Dan looked over at Phil to see joyful tears rolling down his cheeks, too, and even without any furniture or boxes unpacked yet, Dan knew they were finally at home, sweet home.

╰    ♡    *    SENTENCE  STARTERS    ─     HEATHERS    !

feel  free  to  change  pronouns  if  /  where  needed  .    trigger  warnings  for  some  nsfw  stuff  ,  death  ,  suicide  ,  etc  .

‘  (   name  )  told me she teaches people real life  .  ’ ‘  real life sucks losers dry  .  ’ ‘  if you want to fuck with the eagles  ,  you have to learn to fly  .  ’ ‘  so you teach people how to spread their wings  &  fly  ?  ’ ‘  you’re beautiful  .  ’ ‘  what is your damage  ?  ’ ‘  i need you to forge a hot  &  horny  ,  but realistically low key note  .  ’ ‘  you don’t have anything for her either  .  ’ ‘  come on  ,  it’ll be very  .  ’ ‘  the note’ll give her shower nozzle masturbation material for weeks  .  ’ ‘  i’ll think about it  .  ’ ‘  don’t think  .  ’ ‘  pilgrims  ,  indians  ,  tater - tots  .  it’s a real party continent  .  ’ ‘  i think i’d probably miss my own birthday for a date  .  ’ ‘  if you’re going to openly be a bitch  -  .  ’ ‘  why can’t we talk to different kinds of people  ?  ’ ‘  fuck me gently with a chainsaw  .  ’ ‘  do i look like mother theresa  ?  ’ ‘  does it not bother you that everyone in this school thinks that you’re a piranha  ?  ’ ‘  like i give a shit  .  ’ ‘  they all want me as a friend or a fuck  .  ’ ‘  i’d change my life  .  new clothes  ,  new haircut  ,  new house  ,  new home  .  ’ ‘  how sad  !  blowing all your cash on two days of trying to be hip  .  ’ ‘  that’s got to be the most spooky ass question i’ve ever heard  .  ’ ‘  this is the part i hate  :  the waiting  .  ’ ‘  i’d say we’re like twenty minutes from major humilation  .  ’ ‘  deep down all teenagers are the same  .  ’ ‘  didn’t you see the breakfast club  ?  ’ ‘  what do i get out of being friends with losers  ?  ’ ‘  i give them a piece of a winner  &  they stain me with loserness  .  ’

‘  i think we should use the money for an end - of - the - world - get - together  .  ’ ‘  we could invite guys  .  ’ ‘  i’d pay madonna one million dollars to ride my face like the kentucky derby  .  ’ ‘  she should be paying me  ,  though  .  ’ ‘  don’t tell me  .  crest would be stained with loserness  .  ’ ‘  a dime increases the time  !  a buck brings good luck  !  ’ ‘  i’m sorry  ?  what are you oozing about  ?  ’ ‘  that episode with the note back there was for all of us to enjoy  .  ’ ‘  you seem determined to ruin my day  .  ’ ‘  we made a girl want to consider suicide  .  what a scream  ,  what a jest  .  ’ ‘  come on you jerk  .  ’ ‘  you know you used to have a sense of humor  .  ’ ‘  a true friend’s work is never done  .  ’ ‘  color me nauseous  .  ’ ‘  geez  ,  don’t listen to them  .  ’ ‘  you know holden caulfield wouldn’t put up with their bogus nonsense  .  ’ ‘  god (name)  ,  drool much  ?  ’ ‘  greetings  &  salutations  .  ’ ‘  this may seem like a stupid question  .  ’ ‘  there are no stupid questions  .  ’ ‘  that’s the stupidest question i’ve ever heard  .  ’ ‘  let’s kick his ass  .  ’ ‘  too old for that crap  .  let’s give him a good scare though  .  ’ ‘  you going to eat this  ?  ’ ‘  what did your boyfriend say when you told him you were moving to sherwood  ,  ohio  ?  ’ ‘  it seems to have an open door policy for assholes though  ,  doesn’t it  ?  ’ ‘  what did you say dickweed  ?  ’ ‘  i’ll repeat myself  .  ’ ‘  god  ,  they won’t expell him  .  they’ll just suspend him for a week or something  .  ’ ‘  they should throw his ass in jail  .  ’ ‘  all (name) really did was ruin two pairs of pants  .  ’ ‘  can you bleach out urine stains  ?  ’ ‘  you seem pretty amused  .  ’ ‘  i thought you were giving up on high school guys  .  ’ ‘  never say never  .  ’ ‘  did you have a brain tumor for breakfast  ?  ’ ‘  anyway  ,  i can say never to high school  .  ’ ‘  no way  ,  no day  !  ’ ‘  give it up girl  !  ’ ‘  god  ,  that was unbelievable  .  ’ ‘  so tonights the night  .  ’ ‘  blow it tonight girl  &  it’s keggers with kids all next year  .  ’ ‘  so what was the first week of spring vacation withdrawal like  ?  ’ ‘  any contestants worth mentioning  ?  ’ ‘  there’s kind of a dark horse now in the running  .  ’ ‘  will somebody please tell me why i read this spy crap  .  ’ ‘  because you’re an idiot  .  ’ ‘  you going to pull a big gulp with that  ?  ’ ‘  if your nice i’ll let you buy me a slurpee  .  ’ ‘  you know your 7-11 speak pretty well  .  ’ ‘  there’s always a 7-11 any town  ,  any time  .  ’ ‘  the extreme always makes an impression  .  ’ ‘  did you say a cherry or coke slurpee  ?  ’ ‘  he seem to enjoy tearing things down more than putting things up  .  ’ ‘  must be rough moving place to place  .  ’ ‘  everybody’s life’s got static  .  ’ ‘  is your life perfect  ?  ’ ‘  it’s not perfect  .  ’ ‘  i don’t really like my friends  .  ’ ‘  i don’t really like your friends  .  ’ ‘  it’s like they’re just people i work with  &  our job is being popular  &  shit  .  ’ ‘  maybe it’s time for a vacation  .  ’ ‘  throw your coats on the bed  .  ’ ‘  that exam was so bogus  .  ’ ‘  did you girls bring your partying slippers  .  ’ ‘  she loves to party  .  ’ ‘  i want to kill  &  you have to believe it’s for more than selfish reasons  .  ’ ‘  you have to believe it’s for more than selfish reasons  ,  more than a spoke in my menstrual cycle  .  ’ ‘  you have to believe me  .  ’ ‘  so are you a cheerleader  ?  ’ ‘  it’s so great to be able to talk to a girl  &  not have to ask what’s your major  .  ’ ‘  so when you go to college  ,  what kind of subjects do you think you’ll study  ?  ’ ‘  let’s go back to the party  .  ’ ‘  you’re just so hot tonight  .  ’ ‘  i can’t control myself  .  ’ ‘  so what do you say we head up to my room  &  have a real party  .  ’ ‘  that pecker actually scored something on his own  ?  ’ ‘  (name)  ,  ever do cocaine  ?  ’ ‘  ever since phil collins did that anti - drug thing on mtv i refuse everything  .  ’ ‘  jeez  ,  right  ,  then why don’t i do drugs  ?  ’ ‘  hey  ,  don’t run away now  .  ’ ‘  seventeen is the last year mom buys the twinkies  .  ’ ‘  christ  ,  i can’t explain it  .  ’ ‘  i understand i must stop (name)  .  ’ ‘  how’s my little cheerleader  ?  ’ ‘  now i know everyone at your high school isn’t so uptight  .  ’ ‘  i don’t feel so great  .  ’ ‘  i have a little prepared speech i give when my suitor wants more than i’d like to give him  .  ’ ‘  save the speeches for malcom x  .  i just wanna get laid  .  ’ ‘  i just wanna get laid  .  ’ ‘  you don’t deserve my fucking speech  !  ’ ‘  (name) says you’re being a real cooze  .  ’ ‘  i feel awful  ,  like i’m going to throw up  .  ’ ‘  can we jam  ,  please  ?  ’ ‘  i sound like a psycho  .  ’ ‘  let me dream of a world without (name)  ,  a world where i’m free  .  ’ ‘  you stupid cunt  !  ’ ‘  you goddamn bitch  !  ’ ‘  you were nothing before you met me  !  ’ ‘  what’s my thanks  ?  ’ ‘  i get paid in puke  !  ’ ‘  lick it up  ,  baby  .  lick  .  it  .  up  .  ’ ‘  monday morning you’re history  .  ’ ‘  dreadful etiquette  .  i apologize  .  ’ ‘  i saw the croquet set - up in the back  .  up for a match  ?  ’ ‘  no wonder you looked so mangled when i came through the window  .  ’ ‘  i’ve always treated (name)’s teen queen power play as bullshit  .  ’ ‘  but i’m really scared  .  ’ ‘  who am i going to eat lunch with on monday  ?  ’ ‘  i sound like an after school special  .  ’ ‘  that was my first game of strip croquet  ,  you know  .  ’ ‘  it’s a lot more interesting than just flinging off your clothes  &  boning away on the neighbor’s swing set  .  ’ ‘  what a night  .  ’ ‘  what a life  .  ’ ‘  now blah - blah - blah is all i do  .  ’ ‘  i use my grand i.q. to figure out what gloss to wear  &  how to hit three keggers before curfew  .  some genius  .  ’ ‘  killing her won’t solve anything  .  ’ ‘  everybody would be cast fucking adrift  .  ’ ‘  i’ll pray for rain  .  ’ ‘  it was good for me too  ,  sparky  .  ’ ‘  just saying it’s not hard to end a life  .  ’ ‘  there’s a difference between the most popular girl in school  &  dead  .  ’ ‘  i guess i don’t know what the hell i’m talking about  .  ’ ‘  i know exactly what the hell you’re talking about  &  you’re right  ,  you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about  .  ’ ‘  i know exactly what the hell you’re talking about  .  ’ ‘ ��you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about  .  ’ ‘  let’s just grow up  ,  be adults  ,  &  die  .  ’ ‘  i’d like to see (name) puke her guts out  .  ’ ‘  let's just concoct ourselves a little hangover cure that'll induce her to spew red  ,  white  ,  &  blue  .  ’ ‘  what’s the upchuck factor on that  ?  ’ ‘  don’t be a dick  .  that stuff’ll kill her  .  ’ ‘  pull the plug on that shit  .  ’ ‘  she’d never drink anything that looks like that  .  ’ ‘  she won’t be able to tell what she’s drinking  .  ’ ‘  you’re not funny  .  ’ ‘  we both said a lot of things we didn’t mean last night  .  ’ ‘  how the hell’d you get in here  .  ’ ‘  i whipped this up  .  family recipe  .  ’ ‘  did you put a phlegm globber in it or something  ?  ’ ‘  i’m not drinking that piss  .  ’ ‘  i knew this stuff would be too intense  .  ’ ‘  intense  ?  grow up  .  ’ ‘  you think i’ll drink it just because you call me chicken  .  ’ ‘  just give me the cup  ,  jerk  .  ’ ‘  no shit  ,  sherlock  .  ’ ‘  i just killed my best friend  .  ’ ‘  what are we going to tell the cops  ?  ’ ‘  fuck it if she can’t take a joke  .  ’ ‘  stop kidding around  .  ’ ‘  i’m going to have to send my s.a.t. scores to san quentin instead of stanford  .  ’ ‘  i’m just a little freaked  ,  all right  ?  ’ ‘  you got what you wanted  ,  you know  .  ’ ‘  it’s one thing to want somebody out of your life  .  ’ ‘  it's one thing to want somebody out of your life  .  it's another thing to serve them a wake-up cup of liquid drainer  .  ’ ‘  we did a murder  .  ’ ‘  adolescence is a period of life fraught with anxiety  &  confusion  .  ’ ‘  people think just because you’re beautiful  &  popular  ,  life is easy  &  fun  .  ’ ‘  nobody understood i had feelings too  .  ’ ‘  i die knowing no one knew the real me  .  ’ ‘  that’s good  .  have you done this before  ?  ’ ‘  call me when the shuttle lands  .  ’ ‘  let’s talk emotions  .  ’ ‘  i realize now i wasn’t really boring  ,  she was just dissatisfied with her life  .  ’ ‘  (name) was cool  ,  but cruel  .  ’ ‘  the good looks  &  bad manners gave her power but it could not give her happiness  .  ’ ‘  it’s just so unfair  !  ’ ‘  you could actually be digesting food  .  ’ ‘  fuck it  .  ’ ‘  she always said you couldn’t accessorize for shit  .  ’ ‘  i thought she was your usual airhead bitch  .  guess i was wrong  .  ’ ‘  guess i was wrong  .  lot of us were  .  ’ ‘  what a waste  .  ’ ‘  oh the humanity  .  ’ ‘  do i deliver or do i deliver  ?  ’ ‘  hurry up  ,  we’re going to get caught  .  ’ ‘  does this have something to do with menstrual cramps  &  shit  ?  ’ ‘  that was seriously warped  .  ’ ‘  she hated you  !  you hated her  !  .  ’ ‘  what are you smiling at  ?  ’ ‘  goddamn .  will somebody please tell me why I smoke these damn things  ?  ’ ‘  this is a tragic thing  &  sometimes i have a hard time dealing with it  &  stuff  .  ’ ‘  why did you kill such hot snatch  .  ’ ‘  that’s a joke  ,  man  .  people are so serious  .  ’ ‘  hail mary who aren’t in heaven  ,  pray for us sinners  . . .  so we don’t get caught  .  ’ ‘  i just want my high school to be a nice place  .  ’ ‘  did that sound bitchy  ?  ’ ‘  that pudwapper just stepped on my foot  .  ’ ‘  i’m sure your friends are happy to hear that  .  ’ ‘  i hope it isn’t going to be one of those nights where they get shitfaced  &  take us to a pasture to tip cows  .  ’ ‘  oh shit  ,  cowtipping is the fucking greatest  .  ’ ‘  when i get that feeling i need sexual healing  .  ’ ‘  yeah  ,  right  ,  asshole  .  ’ ‘  what is this shit  ?  .  ’ ‘  seven high schools in seven states  &  the only thing different was my locker combination  .  ’ ‘  don’t smile like that  ,  jesus  !  ’ ‘  our love is god  .  let’s go get a slurpee  .  ’ ‘  let’s go get a slurpee  .  ’ ‘  this thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth  .  ’ ‘  i’m sorry  ?  i don’t get it  .  ’ ‘  don’t shut up  .  i’d like to know just what i did  .  ’ ‘  i guess my emotions took over  .  ’ ‘  we won’t be using blanks this time  .  ’ ‘  you can’t be serious  ?  ’ ‘  hey listen  ,  my bonnie  &  clyde days are over  .  ’ ‘  now prepare to be a little disappointed  .  ’ ‘  shut the fuck up  ,  all right  .  ’ ‘  lighten up  ,  dude  .  ’ ‘  in those woods is some of the finest pussy in the school  &  we don’t even have to buy it a hamburger  &  a diet coke  .  ’ ‘  so do we just start fucking  ?  ’ ‘  i was hoping you’d rip my clothes off me  ,  sport  .  ’ ‘  did you miss him completely  ?  ’ ‘  i always hear gunshots when i’m high before noon  .  ’ ‘  life’s a crazy bitch  .  ’ ‘  life’s a crazy bitch  ,  don’t try to analyze it  .  ’ ‘  you took the suggestion as an opportunity to play yet another round of let’s laugh at the hippie  .  ’ ‘  you believed it because you wanted to believe it  .  ’ ‘  your true feelings were too gross  &  icky for you to face  .  ’ ‘  i did not want them dead  .  ’ ‘  ah  ,  young love  .  ’ ‘  my teen angst bullshit now has a body count  .  ’ ‘  the most popular people in the school are dead  .  ’ ‘  everybody’s sad  ,  but it’s a good kind of sad  .  ’ ‘  it’s god versus my boyfriend  &  god’s losing  .  ’ ‘  kill the jukebox  .  ’ ‘  i may be a geek but i have my pride  .  ’ ‘  why are you dissing me  ,  (name)  ?  ’ ‘  i’m trying to redefine the high school experience  .  ’ ‘  you’re ignoring the high school experience  .  ’ ‘  people are dead  &  all you can think to do is whip up some warped pity party  .  ’ ‘  if we’re going to ever build respect for each other  ,  it’s gotta be something  . . .  something real  .  ’ ‘  it was chaos  .  fucking chaos  .  ’ ‘  chaos is great  .  ’ ‘  chaos is what killed the dinosaurs  ,  darling  .  ’ ‘  we scare people into not being assholes  .  ’ ‘  our way is not our way  .  ’ ‘  i’m telling it to you  !  you  !  ’ ‘  nothing good can come from suicide  ,  from murder  ,  from death  .  ’ ‘  you can be so immature  .  ’ ‘  we beat the bitches  .  ’ ‘  do you like your father  ?  ’ ‘  never given the matter much thought  .  ’ ‘  in some sick way  ,  we unclogged the sinuses of the school  .  ’ ‘  if we’re going to keep the school healthy  ,  it’s gotta be through something having to with life  ,  not death  .  ’ ‘  whoa  ,  metaphor tennis anyone  ?  ’ ‘  if you put a nazi in a concentration camp  ,  does that make you a nazi  ?  ’ ‘  that’s it  ,  we’re breaking up  .  ’ ‘  you can’t bring them back  .  you must know that  .  ’ ‘  i’m not trying to bring back anyone except maybe myself  .  ’ ‘  to think there was a time when i thought you were cool  .  ’ ‘  if you can’t deal with me now  ,  just stay home  .  ’ ‘  if you can’t deal with me now  ,  just stay home  &  shoot your t.v.  ,  blow away a couple toasters or something  .  ’ ‘  just don’t come to school  &  don’t mess with me  .  ’ ‘  you’ll be back  !  ’ ‘  where did you get these  ?  ’ ‘  what is this  ?  blackmail  ?  ’ ‘  i’ll give you a week’s lunch money  .  ’ ‘  i don’t believe it  ,  i’m winning  .  ’ ‘  don’t get cocky  ,  girl  .  ’ ‘  i know i’m not as exciting as your other friends  .  ’ ‘  your daydreams are a lot better than my realities  ,  believe me  .  ’ ‘  nice guys finish last  .  i should know  .  ’ ‘  nice guys finish last  .  ’ ‘  you’re so polluted  .  ’ ‘  i don’t see what gives you the right to lecture  .  ’ ‘  some people just don’t matter  .  why should those who do carry their weight  ?  ’ ‘  some people just don’t matter  .  ’ ‘  it’s not even your turn  .  ’ ‘  maybe by the time we head back  ,  your tampon’ll be flushed  .  ’ ‘  christ  ,  doesn’t anybody knock  ?  ’ ‘  so i’m a dark horse  ,  huh  ?  ’ ‘  you make me blush  .  ’ ‘  did you come to tell me something  ?  something nice  ,  remotely apologetic  .  ’ ‘  i say it’s about time we got down to doing what we do best  .  ’ ‘  just finish your drink  &  get out  .  ’ ‘  these little programs eat up suicide with a spoon  .  ’ ‘  if we’re not going to watch that program  ,  can i put on my game  ?  ’ ‘  hey kids  ,  make your parents  &  teachers feel like shit  !  ’ ‘  get the respect in death you’ll never get in life  !  ’ ‘  get up off the floor  ,  your dress is getting filthy  .  ’ ‘  everybody cares about youth  ,  not the individual  .  ’ ‘  all we want is to be treated like human beings  ,  not like guinea pigs to be experimented on  &  not like bunny rabbits to be patronized  .  ’ ‘  all we want is to be treated like human beings  .  ’ ‘  i do not patronize bunny rabbits  .  ’ ‘  treated like human beings  ?  is that what you said little miss voice of a generation  ?  ’ ‘  just how do you think adults act with other adults  ?  ’ ‘  adults can be horrible to other adults  .  ’ ‘  when teenagers complain that they want to be treated like human beings it’s usually because they are being treated like human beings  .  ’ ‘  i guess i picked the wrong time to be a human being  .  ’ ‘  you’ll live  .  ’ ‘  another case of a geek trying to imitate the popular people of the school  &  failing miserably  .  ’ ‘  i said i was sorry  .  ’ ‘  you are out of control  .  ’ ‘  (name) couldn’t take the heat so she got out of the kitchen  .  just think what a better place the world would be if every nimrod followed her cue  .  ’ ‘  just shut up  &  turn on the radio  .  ’ ‘  sometimes i feel like i’m on that island  &  gilligan can be just so stupid sometimes  .  ’ ‘  dude  ,  you’ve got to remember if it wasn’t for the courage of the fearless crew  ,  the minnow would be lost  .  ’ ‘  god has cursed me  ,  i think  .  the last time i had sex  ,  the guy killed himself the next day  .  i’m failing math  ’ ‘  the last time i had sex  ,  the guy killed himself the next day  .  ’ ‘  i’m failing math  .  ’ ‘  we’ll crucify her  !  ’ ‘  my whole life is a mess  .  ’ ‘  i was supposed to be captain of the cheerleading team  .  ’ ‘  i can’t get him out of my head  .  ’ ‘  are we going to the prom or to hell  ?  ’ ‘  give me a break  .  ’ ‘  what are you trying to do  ?  kill me  ?  ’ ‘  what are you trying to do  ?  sleep  ?  ’ ‘  suicide is a private thing  .  ’ ‘  you’re giving your life away to become a goddamn statistic in u.s. fucking a today  .  that’s got to be the least private thing i can think of  .  ’ ‘  if everyone jumped off a bridge  ,  young lady  ,  would you  ?  ’ ‘  if you were happy every day of your life  ,  you wouldn’t be a human being  ,  you’d be a game show host  .  ’ ‘  if you were happy every day of your life  ,  you wouldn’t be a human being  .  ’ ‘  let’s knock off early  .  buy some shoes  ,  something lame like that  .  ’ ‘  people love me  !  ’ ‘  color me stoked  ,  girl  !  ’ ‘  people love you but i know you  .  ’ ‘  so some people need different kinds of convincing than others  .  ’ ‘  jealous much  ?  ’ ‘  why can’t you just be a friend  ?  why are you such a megabitch  ?  ’ ‘  why can’t you just be a friend  ?  ’ ‘  why are you such a megabitch  ?  ’ ‘  why are you pulling my dick  ?  ’ ‘  wanna go out tonight  ?  ’ ‘  i knew you’d come back  .  ’ ‘  it’s over  ,  (name)  !  over  !  grow up  !  ’ ‘  i don’t get it  ,  you were wrong  !  i was right  !  ’ ‘  you can’t ever find a place nice  &  peaceful because there isn’t any  .  ’ ‘  get off my bed  ,  you sick psycho  .  ’ ‘  you think you’re a rebel  ,  you’re not a rebel  .  you’re a sick psycho  .  ’ ‘  you think you’re a rebel  ,  you’re not a rebel  .  .  ’ ‘  do you think you’re a rebel  ?  ’ ‘  you say tomayto  ,  say tomahto  .  let’s call the the whole thing off  .  ’ ‘  i usually go for whole sentences myself  ,  but hey this is perfecto  .  ’ ‘  you’re not listening  !  i’m not on your side  .  ’ ‘  this knife is filthy  .  ’ ‘  you don’t get it  ,  do you  ?  ’ ‘  society nods its head at any horror the american teenager can think to bring upon itself  .  ’ ‘  let’s hope she’s rubbing noses with jesus  .  ’ ‘  is this turnout weak or what  ?  ’ ‘  he’s wrong but i’m going to teach him what’s right  .  ’ ‘  i’m going to stop (name) if it’s the last thing i do  .  ’ ‘  i can’t believe you did it  .  i was teasing  .  ’ ‘  sure  ,  i climbed up here to kill you  ,  but first i was going to try  &  get you back  .  ’ ‘  we coulda toasted marshmallows together  .  ’ ‘  hey  ,  why so tense  ?  ’ ‘  sorry tiger  ,  i’m a little busy  .  ’ ‘  get a job  .  ’ ‘  oh my god  ,  another damn pep assembly  .  ’ ‘  may i see your hall pass  ?  ’ ‘  i knew that loose was too noose  !  i mean  ,  noose too loose  !  goddamn you  !  ’ ‘  like father  ,  like son  .  ’ ‘  you didn’t say simon says  .  ’ ‘  live by the sword  . . .  ’ ‘  you think just because you started this thing  ,  you can end it  ?  ’ ‘  you want to wipe the slate clean as much as i do  .  ’ ‘  so maybe i am killing everyone in the school because nobody loves me  .  ’ ‘  you have a purpose though  !  remember  ?  ’ ‘  let’s face it  ,  the only place different social types can genuinely get along with each other is in heaven  .  ’ ‘  there’s a school that self - destructed not because society didn’t care  ,  but because that school was society  .  ’ ‘  is that deep or what  ?  ’ ‘  i’ll let you put it in your diary  ,  babe  .  free of charge  .  ’ ‘  you know what i want  ,  babe  ?  ’ ‘  you know what i want  ,  babe  ?  cool guys like you out of my life  .  ’ ‘  but don’t worry  ,  these here were ich luge bullets  .  ’ ‘  color me impressed  .  ’ ‘  you really fucked me up  ,  (name)  .  ’ ‘  you’ve got power  ,  (name)  .  power i didn’t think you had  .  ’ ‘  the slate is clean  .  ’ ‘  pretend i did blow up the school  ,  all the schools  .  now that you’re dead  ,  what are you gonna do with your life  ?  ’ ‘  (name)  ,  you look like hell  .  ’ ‘  (name)  ,  my love  ,  there’s a new sheriff in town  .  ’ ‘  my date for the prom kind of flaked out on me  ,  so i thought if you weren’t doing anything that night we could go to the video store  &  rent some new releases or something  .  maybe pop some popcorn  .  ’ ‘  my date for the prom kind of flaked out on me  .  ’ ‘  i thought if you weren’t doing anything that night we could go to the video store  &  rent some new releases or something  .  maybe pop some popcorn  .  ’

something to play for

genre: fluff, smut/nsfw

word count: 4435

available on: ao3

summary: “the world doesn’t revolve around basketball, lester.”

a basketball!au where phil is the school's star player and dan is his best friend, watching from the sidelines. everything changes when the team makes it to state championships for the first time in ten years and dan and phil realize they want something more than friendship.

author’s note: it's finally here! after months of waiting i can proudly say it's polished and beautiful. eternal thanks to @existentialhouseplant for beta reading it! (UPDATE: i accidentally deleted this whole thing while trying to edit it and i’m frustrated with myself and tumblr and the universe, so the italics aren’t copied over and if you really want them, give it a read on the ol’ ao3).

the bell rings, sending students flying from their desks and out the door. dan shoves his unfinished history assignment into the depths of his backpack and follows his classmates as they pour into the hallway. unlike the rest of them, dan walks to the gym, rather than through the school gates. he gets sour looks from a group of girls standing by the lockers who know all too well where he’s going and who he’s hanging out with.

when he enters the gym, dan doesn’t have to look up to know phil’s on the court shooting baskets. the sound of the basketball slicing through the net and phil’s shoe squeaks echo across the building.

“don’t tell me you have homework again today,” phil calls once he notices dan setting his bag down by the bleachers. 

“i have homework every day,” dan says back, pulling the now wrinkled assignment sheet out of his backpack. “if you have a problem with it, you can take it up with mrs. shelley.”

phil makes a lazy attempt at a three, letting the ball bounce a few times until it hits the wall. “you have to help me practice, though. what’s more important, state championships or some small assignment?”

“the world doesn’t revolve around basketball, lester.”

except it does, and not just for phil. their high school hasn’t had a good basketball team in ten years, but since phil joined the team in september, they’ve won nearly every game. the coach tells all the players it’s a combined effort, not that he’s fooling anyone. phil’s the most talented player in the state and carries the team. for as popular as phil is on the court, he’s pretty quiet in class. he doesn’t let his talent get to his head and only has one real friend: dan. all the popular boys at school tried to become phil’s friend as soon as the team started winning games, but it became pretty evident dan wasn’t sharing. still, there are girls who occasionally go up to phil and ask for his number, to no avail. it explains why dan gets so many dirty looks: everyone wants to see phil lester’s personal side. 

at first, dan expected the basketball hype to die down after the first home game. after their third win in a row, though, it started to sink in that maybe this season is the one. winning twenty of their twenty two games has earned them a spot in the state championship, and now anything anyone can think about is winning the last game of the season. 

dan has supported phil every step of the way, but the problem with the championship game is that it takes place the weekend before finals. earlier in the semester, dan was willing to forget his homework in favor of helping phil practice. today, though, dan puts his foot down.

“this ‘assignment’ is worth fifteen percent of my grade, phil,” dan frowns. “i can’t just not do it.”

phil rolls his eyes, “fine. but if i accidentally hit you from over here, that’s a sign you should be helping me instead.” he picks up the ball again and tries to pump fake dan, but he’s already looking back down at his history project and doesn’t notice. 

dan feels like he’s been working for hours when he looks at the gym clock and finds it’s only been twenty minutes. he groans, setting his papers aside and rolling up his sleeves.

“you certainly look productive,” phil comments with a smirk. “maybe you could use a break.” dan stares at phil blankly. “i could use some help with my defense.” 

sighing, dan stands up and walks across the court to phil. “what do you want me to do?”

“just dribble around and try to make a shot,” phil says, emphasizing the word try as he passes the basketball to dan. dan doesn’t catch it gracefully and it slips out of his grasp. as dan tries to chase after it, phil steals it from him and scores a basket like it’s nothing.

dan throws his hands up. “i don’t know what you expect from me, but you’re definitely not making this easy.”

“that’s the point, howell.” phil tosses the ball back to dan, placing his hands on his hips to take a breath. “just try your best. i promise i won’t go too hard on you.”

dan takes a minute to steady the ball in his hands, then starts dribbling from side to side. he takes a cautious step forward, then another, and another until phil swipes at the ball and dan retreats to the half court line. he tries not to look at phil’s eyes, because he knows he’ll get distracted. phil’s just captivating like that. he’s such a nice person that you don’t even realize when he’s taken the ball from you and scored; it’s completely disarming. even the best players fall victim to his charm, or at least dan hopes that’s the case. 

he breathes in deeply before stepping forward again, this time avoiding phil. he moves around phil and definitely gets away with a double dribble, but finds himself only feet away from the basket. dan puts the ball up and it hits the side of the rim, bouncing into phil’s open arms.

“i’m surprised,” phil smiles. “you’re not actually that bad. your shooting form needs improvement, though.”

“well, since you’re the expert here, why don’t you show me how you’d do it?”

phil walks over to where dan is standing and hands him the ball, this time keeping a hand on the ball and the other on dan’s shoulder. “use your right hand to support the bottom of it,” he says, moving dan’s hand. “put your left hand on the top of it and push the ball up as you jump.”

dan makes a sore attempt to follow phil’s instructions and the ball comes no closer to the basket than before. phil laughs in the background and runs to grab the ball. “it’s not funny,” dan grumbles, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “you know i don’t know how to aim.”

“sorry. i guess i should be resting up for saturday’s game, anyway,” phil says, holding the ball at his hip. “i didn’t hurt your feelings, did i?”

dan shakes his head quickly, “of course you didn’t. some people just aren’t born to play basketball.”

smiling, phil walks over to the utility closet and puts the basketball back on the rack with the others the team uses for practice as dan slings his backpack over his shoulder. “do you want to come over for dinner?” phil asks as he grabs his own bag. “mom’s making a big dinner in celebration of state championships since they’ll be out of state for the game.”

they exit the gym and make their way through the halls. “that’s a family thing, phil, i don’t want to intervene,” dan says. “besides, i still have that history thing to do.”

“okay,” phil says, not wanting to push dan, knowing that he already took away from dan’s study time. “speaking of the championship game, since my parents can’t go, do you think you’d like to go with me?”

“like, go with you on the bus and share your hotel room?” dan asks. “you don’t have to do that for me-”

“well, i want to,” phil presses. “there’s no one i’d want to be with me more.”

dan grins, “i’d love that.” he waves goodbye to phil as they walk past the school gates and head in opposite directions. as dan walks home, he can’t help but notice the strange feeling bubbling in his stomach at the idea of going to state with phil.

—

instead of resting like phil said he was going to, he hits the courts every day for the rest of the week. phil makes free throw after free throw, basket after basket. dan sits on the sidelines and supports phil as much as he can while he does his homework. both dan and phil’s most productive day that week is when the team has their final practice before the game. phil is occupied with the rest of the team, so he doesn’t distract dan from his work. it wasn’t like phil was actually getting much practice in with just dan around, anyway. 

phil’s coach gives the team a long, inspiring speech and credits their success to team effort, but looks directly at phil as he says it. dan notices some of the team members becoming uncomfortable when the coach gets to that part of the speech, so he shoots phil a reassuring smile. dan hates the way he and phil are treated sometimes. phil just doesn’t deserve it.

phil walks out of practice that day with a lump of stress caught in his throat. “you will rest tonight, right?” dan asks as they stand at the front of the school before saying their goodbyes. “you have to get up early to meet the bus in time.”

phil doesn’t say anything.

“are you okay? i know you’re stressed and all but you’re really quiet,” dan says. “at least that means you won’t get t’d up.” that puts a smile on phil’s face, but it fades as quickly as it comes. he stares at dan like he’s worried about something, and dan’s known phil long enough that he knows it’s not just pre-game jitters. “you better figure this out, lester. i’m not sleeping in the same room as someone who’s going to wet the bed,” dan jokes. he punches phil in the arm (softly, of course) and turns to walk home.

—

dan sits on the curb in the school parking lot on his phone as he waits for phil to show up. he checks his texts over and over, but the school’s wifi never was any good. it isn’t until he hears a suitcase being set down behind him that he realizes phil’s here.

“sorry,” phil says, helping dan up. “dropped my straightener on the counter and burnt a hole in my towel.” 

dan frowns, because either phil didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, or he’s still stressed out. “still nervous?” dan asks. 

phil doesn’t have a chance to respond before his coach whistles and waves them over to the bus. they step inside and find that most of the team is already settled in, but thankfully there’s two open seats next to each other near the back of the bus. phil puts their suitcases above their seats, then sits next to dan. 

“i have homework i need to do,” dan says as he takes his laptop out of his backpack. “do you want to pick out a playlist? i always work better with music, and i think it would help you de-stress.”

nodding, phil takes dan’s phone and scrolls through his music for a minute before deciding on 148 by c418. he plugs a pair of earbuds into the phone and offers one side to dan. 

“odd choice, but i’m down for this,” dan says, placing the earbud in his ear and logging into his laptop. while it loads, dan watches as phil leans back in his seat and stares out the window. he would ask phil if he needs anything, but phil looks more relaxed than he’s been all week, and dan smiles. 

—

it takes a few hours to drive to the state capital, but soon enough they’re there and everyone’s anxious to get up and move around. they stop by the hotel to drop off their bags then they’re on the road again, this time to an arcade. it’s the coach’s surprise to the team for making it this far, and to take pressure off the big game tomorrow. 

they start with laser tag, pitting the players and trainers against each other. dan opts to join the team phil isn’t on to make things more fun, even though he knows he’s probably going to lose. when the game begins, dan runs into one of the towers and peeks out the window, searching for phil in the darkness. he shoots the basketball players that are brave enough to cross the large, open field, but there’s still no sign of phil. eventually, all dan’s teammates have been picked off and dan’s pretty sure he and phil are the last ones still in the game. he decides that waiting around for phil isn’t going to work, so he stands up from his hiding spot and turns around.

within half a second, the sound of a laser gun goes off and dan’s own gun turns dark before he can even realize what’s happened. phil had been waiting behind dan the whole game. “you cruel bastard,” dan groans, ripping his vest off. 

phil just laughs, his tongue poking out from his teeth. dan rolls his eyes; that’s phil’s happy laugh. he’s glad phil’s enjoying himself, but this is just unfair. “i’m sorry,” phil says with no sincerity once he takes time to catch his breath. “i got you so good.” 

“yeah,” dan grumbles. he walks out of the tower and phil follows him out of the arena, leaving their guns behind. “i hate you.”

“here, we can play a round of air hockey and i’ll let you win,” phil says. 

dan shakes his head, “there’s no fun in that.”

“do you really think you can beat me otherwise?”

dan inserts a token into the table and picks up a striker. “game on, lester.” 

—

later that night, after the team orders in pizza, dan and phil make their way to their hotel room, exhausted from the day’s events. the first thing they do is collapse on the bed, not bothering to take their shoes off or get comfortable. dan thinks it’s a bit counteractive to exhaust players before the most important game they’ve ever played. either way, it’s the most fun he’s had in a while, even though phil beat him at every game they played. they stare up at the ceiling until the air conditioning turns on and dan has to get up and turn it off before they freeze to death.

“i know i said i hate you, but i’m proud of you, you know that?” dan says as he sits back down on the bed.

phil sits up to reply to him, “what am i supposed to say to that? thanks?”

“you’ve come so far. i remember when you first made the team. i wonder if anyone thought we’d ever be here.”

“you convinced me to try out,” phil defends. “i wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

“you’re such a sap,” dan smiles. he and phil sit like this for a few seconds that feel like slow motion. dan suddenly feels warm under phil’s gaze and he can hear the stillness in the air, the slight ringing in his ears. “do you think we could,” dan trails off and bites his lip. a shiver runs down dan’s spine as phil takes his hand and cups dan’s cheek, tilting his head upwards so he can finally break the tension between the two of them and kiss dan. it’s a kiss so long and deep that it’s dizzying; a warm, fuzzy feeling growing in his stomach and his mouth and everywhere. 

dan pulls away to rest his forehead against phil’s, taking slow breaths and closing his eyes because phil’s blue-green eyes are so intense. he drapes his arms over phil’s shoulders and laughs airily, “shit, phil.”

phil responds by closing the gap and kissing dan again, this time taking dan’s bottom lip in between his teeth. catching dan by surprise, he gasps softly and grabs a handful of phil’s shirt. phil smirks, aware of the mess he and dan are now in. he kisses dan so firmly that he pushes dan’s back against the bed, straddling dan’s legs and placing his hands next to either side of dan to hold himself up as they kiss. it’s the most heavenly thing he’s ever felt, dan thinks. phil’s body above his, their breath hot on each other’s faces. as phil drags dan’s bottom lip through his teeth once more, dan’s sighs become a low-pitched whine. he places his lips along dan’s jawline and kisses lower and lower until he reaches the soft skin on dan’s neck. 

“not there,” dan pants. “‘m sensiti-” he cuts himself off with a load moan as phil bites down gently. phil raises his eyebrows, and dan’s ashamed of how pathetic it seemed. “i warned you,” he grumbles.

“oh my god, dan,” phil breathes, sending a wave of fervor through dan. “you sound so beautiful.”

dan almost moans again at the heaviness of phil’s voice, but he stops himself. “how far do you want to go?” dan asks, and he knows it’s a mood killer, but this is important to him. to both of them. it’s new and tempting and needs boundaries. “i don’t think either of us brought anything, so…” he trails off.

phil pulls away and looks at dan, taking a minute to brush the hair out of his eyes. “maybe we can just get each other off?”

“fuck yes,” dan nods, tilting his head back to allow phil to continue kissing his neck. he lets his hands run up and down phil’s body. dan brushes over phil’s nipples, making him gasp against dan’s skin. tentatively, dan does it again, and this time he elicits a moan from phil. it’s when dan presses down harder that phil can’t take it anymore.

“help me get your pants off,” phil says, not as composed as he was a few minutes ago. phil easily takes his jeans off, but dan has to lift himself up once phil can’t tug dan’s down any further. phil throws them to the other side of the bed once they’re off. he then carefully pulls dan’s underwear down, then his own. they were both clearly straining against the fabric, and dan now shivers in the cold hotel room air. 

dan feels like he should say something, but he’s so tongue-tied with desire that he makes a helpless sound. it’s enough for phil to get the message, and his hand finally wraps around the head of dan’s cock. slick with precum, phil uses it to help pump the rest of dan’s cock. 

it’s absolutely euphoric, and soon dan’s bucking up into phil’s hand and whispering his name with every movement. it sends waves of pleasure through him, and he would be content doing this for hours on end. but somehow, in all the mania, dan reaches his hand out in return, taking phil’s cock in his hand and pumping in time with phil. 

phil bites his lip, trying not to let out the string of curses dan knows is stuck in his throat. dan leans forward to kiss phil and the moans he’s holding back become vibrations that go straight to dan’s cock. phil’s hips involuntarily slide forward, and their cocks rub against each other. phil pulls back, but dan guides phil’s cock next to his again and takes them both in his hand. the added friction brings them both infinitely closer to release.

“phil,” dan cries, rolling his hips as need steadily builds up and courses through his body. “i’m- i-”

phil pumps him over the edge, and anything dan was saying becomes an incoherent mess. phil follows soon after, coming on dan’s stomach like dan had done with him. breathing heavily, he falls on the sheets beside dan. 

once they’ve both calmed down to the point where words seem possible again, phil turns his head to look at dan. “hi,” he says, and dan laughs breathlessly.

“hi,” dan smiles. “we should go wash up.”

—

dan wakes up before phil does, a pair of arms wrapped around him and soft breathing against his neck. it’s the most comforting thing he’s ever felt, the feeling of being safe and warm in phil’s embrace. dan looks over at the clock and it’s well past eight, but the team doesn’t need to be at the arena until later, so dan sighs and closes his eyes to fall asleep again. 

until he realizes that the game—the biggest game the team’s played yet—is today, and dan just slept with the star player. it’s a feat almost everyone at school should be jealous of, but it sends dan’s mind racing. not only did he tire phil out more than he already was, what if he gets distracted during the game? dan knows phil’s always calm and collected on the court, but what if? what if dan lost the game for phil before it even started? phil was already nervous on the bus ride up. did dan make it worse? or would phil get mad at him for causing this mess?

the warm feeling of being next to phil is replaced by a sickness to his stomach. he pries away from phil, biting his lip with a frown as he hears phil mumble something in protest beside him. “good morning,” phil says, stretching. his heart leaps at the sound of phil’s voice, but his thoughts shut his feelings down again.

“morning,” dan mutters without looking back. he gets up and takes a change of clothes out of his bag, heading into the bathroom to change while avoiding phil’s slightly confused stare as much as possible. turning on the faucet, he splashes his face with water, but he knows nothing can hide the bruise on his neck and the plumpness of his lips. 

when he comes out of the bathroom, and for the rest of the morning, for that matter, dan shuts his mouth and tries not to look at or think about phil. if i’m not distracted by him, maybe he won’t get distracted by me. they pile onto the bus after a long and silent breakfast (from all the team, who were clearly nervous about playing such an important game), and dan slides into the window seat. out of the corner of his eye, dan sees phil try to hold his hand, but he pulls away before they touch. 

“are you okay, dan?” phil asks in a quiet voice. 

“just tired,” dan says back, and he can tell phil doesn’t buy it. and dan isn’t entirely wrong; he’d have loved to stay in bed with phil for another hour, but today is phil’s day. today is about basketball.

at the arena, phil and the team stop by the locker room to drop their bags off and talk strategy for the game, something dan isn’t invited to. he and the other friends and family that went along for the trip find seats in the arena itself, bustling about game predictions and final scores. dan finds a seat further up in the stands and scrolls mindlessly through his phone for what feels like hours before both teams come out for warmups. when dan glances up, there’s now a lot more people than there were before, and he meets phil’s searching eyes on the court and he can’t bear to stare at phil anymore. the look phil gives dan once he realizes dan isn’t in his usual courtside seat makes dan want to run down and let him know he’s okay. 

dan tries to pay attention to the other team warming up, and the fact that they’re making most of their shots doesn’t put dan’s mind at ease. this is going to be a tough game for phil, but he can handle it, right? he hopes phil can, because soon enough, warmups are over and the teams go to their benches for their final pep talk. dan looks to their team’s huddle, but he doesn’t see phil’s jersey number, and it’s not because he’s sitting further away. he looks for any sign of phil in the sidelines before he notices a familiar jersey jogging up the steps. 

“i saved you a seat by the bench,” phil says, resting his hands on his hips. “better view up here?”

“not really,” dan hesitates, struggling to find something to say that isn’t going to make him seem like a terrible friend. 

“did i do something wrong?” phil asks, and dan doesn’t think he’s ever seen phil more heartbroken in his life. “is this about last night? because i really liked it, and if you didn’t-”

“i shouldn’t have kissed you,” dan says. phil takes dan’s hands into his and pulls dan up until he’s standing. “what if i distract you during the game? what if i make you lose? you were exhausted last night and i probably pushed you too far, and i know you’ve been nervous since before we left.”

phil laughs and rolls his eyes, “i was nervous about sharing a room with you, silly, not about the game. i’ve been mad about you for years, and i finally had my chance to tell you. when i found out you felt the same way, i didn’t have anything to be nervous about anymore. but i freaked out again when you were acting differently. i thought wow, maybe you don’t really like me the way i like you. i would have been thinking more about if you hated me or not than what’s happening in the game.”

“really?” dan asks. 

“i like seeing you cheer me on in the sidelines,” phil smiles, swinging their arms back and forth. “it gives me something to play for.” phil draws him into a hug, rubbing dan’s back.

“god, i’m sorry,” dan whispers, and he tries to put words to his feelings, but if he says anything else, he’ll probably cry. he can’t believe he’s made things so much worse than they were, but all he wants to do is focus on being in phil’s arms again. 

“come on, you’ll make me late.” phil, with dan in tow, walks back down the stairs and around to the other side of the court to the bench. he gives dan a quick kiss, leaving dan just as blushy as he was the last time the kissed, before apologizing to the coach and joining the huddle. 

—

phil wins. the team wins, really, but it’s all phil at the end. it’s the best game of his career and at the final buzzer, everyone in the building knows it. dan rushes onto the court with the rest of the players on the bench, wrapping his arms around phil once the two meet.

“you are so sweaty,” dan shouts over the cheering. 

“shut up,” phil says, and in front of thousands of people, to be replayed on the news that night, phil kisses dan. 

Digging in the sand, looking for Gold

Summary: When Dan's Beach-Volleyball partner retires, he's not sure how to continue his career. By coincidence he meets the aspiring Youngster Sascha, his best friend Marcelo and physiotherapist Phil, who shakes believes and rules Dan has lived by for all of his life. Suddenly, Dan's life becomes a lot more complicated...

Word Count: 11,8k

Tags: Strangers to lovers, Slow Burn, Fluff, a bit of angst

A/n: This is my first fic for this year's @phandomreversebang! Art is by @penisdinosaur, beta'd by @rubberbandx, big thank you to both of them!

Read on AO3

For as long as Dan could remember, sand was everywhere. 

  Even when he wasn’t currently on court, when he was training in the weights room or running his laps on track, jogging in the morning, even on vacations - there was always sand. He could feel it in his clothes when he moved, no matter if he had actually worn them on court yet or not. He could see - hear it trickling out of his hair when he shook his head, even right after a shower. There was sand at the bottom of every bag he owned, used for training or not - it didn’t matter. 

  Sand was his everlasting companion, like family members - they were always there, and sometimes they showed up out of nowhere even when you definitely did not want them to.

  But even though sandy clothes or bags usually meant displeasure to normal people, like an itch they couldn’t scratch, to Dan it was comforting - it was home. It was that little piece of his life that he brought everywhere, that he couldn’t shake even if he wanted to; it was his sign of belonging. Whenever he felt foreign, strange, he’d see a few grains of sand, like the Universe showing him You’re not alone. You belong.

  Other people would look at him funnily whenever he mentioned it and his own rationality told him how absolutely insane it sounded, but it didn’t matter. It was the way he felt.

  As long as the sand would follow him, he would be okay. 

  That’s why his partner’s retirement hit him even harder. Sure, he could search for a new partner, could try to find someone else he had this on court connection with, someone who knew what he’d do before he knew himself - but not only the improbability of that was a big dampener. They were a Team , him and Markus, had always been; all the way from the sightings matches in their youth to where they were now: training for Olympia. Even though  it was still a long way, and if he wanted to, Dan knew he could do it… It was more the way there that made Dan question if it was even worth the effort. 

  It was his life’s dream. It was everything he’d ever worked for, the only thing he’d ever wanted to achieve. He’d never cared much about education, graduations or even degrees. He had dedicated his life to this sport, had given it his all for several years - just to get thrown off course basically only moments before achievement.

  He didn’t blame Markus for any of it, obviously. He had torn the front ligament in his right knee, which would take several months to recover from, and had several other projects in the making, a musical career to fall back to and an amazing husband that supported him every step along the way. 

  He wasn’t like Dan. 

  Dan had nothing but his goal - he was nothing but his goal. 

  He drank, breathed, lived this sport, and he wouldn’t have quit had he been the one getting injured - but he wasn’t, and finding a perfect partner was harder than recovering from an injury. Chances were he’d never find anyone else who understood him on court like Markus did.

  So, naturally, the situation hit Dan like a brick wall and metaphorically had him lying in a ditch somewhere for several weeks. He put off looking through the documents of the aspirants his trainer had sent him, just flipped through them halfheartedly, barely noticing what he saw before he gave up and frustratedly threw them in the vague direction of his desk.

  He slumped around at home, missed training sessions and basically stopped strength training altogether. He even shortened his morning and evening runs. Only in the night, when the sun sunk below the horizon and normal people went to sleep, all the energy he hadn’t used over the day caught up with him; he became agitated and restless until he finally gave in and went for a jog. 

  It was during one of those midnight runs that he met Sascha. 

  Dan was running through the park a few blocks from his apartment, letting the night air cool his skin and ruffle his wild locks. As usual, he didn’t pay much attention to where he was going - nor did he even look. His eyes were up in the clouds, watching them as they drifted by, getting illuminated by the almost full moon standing proudly up in the sky. He knew this park like the back of his hand, could probably run his way through with closed eyes and covered ears, so he had started on his usual route and let his feet do the rest. 

  Panic ’s This is Gospel just started playing when there was a strange cracking noise that had Dan fearing for his headphones - he’d literally justbought new ones, they couldn’t seriously be broken again already?! - then something colliding with him mid-step and suddenly, he found himself sitting on his ass.

  For a second he was completely disoriented, unable to even distinguish between up and down, just sat there, blinking like an idiot.  Then his brain caught up with his body, his sight cleared and he could make out a figure standing over him. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry. Fuck, I didn’t look where I was going -” A male voice started rambling and a hand reached out to help Dan up. 

  Dan took the offered hand and got pulled to his feet. The first thing he noticed was the height difference - which was basically nonexistent. The guy was tall , almost as tall as Dan, which said something, and fairly athletically built. “Hi, nice to meet you - I’m Sascha.” 

  That’s how it all started - somehow it spiraled from there. 

Sascha insisted to buy Dan a drink for the inconvenience, even though it was as much Dan’s fault as it was his, at least in Dan’s book. They started talking, and it didn’t take Dan too long realize he was a Beach Volleyball player like himself. When he asked about a partner Sascha just shrugged and told him he hadn’t found the perfect one yet - and a plan started building in Dan’s head. 

  Half an hour later they had a training session scheduled for the next day, numbers exchanged and on his way home, Dan’s steps felt a lot lighter. 

  The training went even better than anticipated. From the first minutes on court Dan understood Sascha and vice versa, and Dan had rarely felt this connected to a person that wasn’t Markus on an athletic level. Sascha was a few years younger than Dan and not officially seeking a partner, so he hadn’t been among the documents Dan had gotten from his trainer, but he was adamant to try out this partnership, wherever it would lead them. 

  Dan’s trainer met with Sascha’s and it was settled - they’d be going through a month long trial and training period, but Dan already knew this partnership was what he’d been searching for. 

  It didn’t take too long to discover his new partner didn’t only come with fresh energy and new plans, no - he also came with a bunch of associates. There was Mischa, his older brother and one of Dan’s biggest rivals since forever, almost immediately offering to bury all bad feelings and try to be friends, which Dan agreed on without a second thought. There was Marcelo, Sascha’s best friend and training partner - also the one Sascha gazed at whenever he thought no one was looking, and Dan made a mental note to ask him about it as soon as a foundation of trust had been built. 

  And last but not least, there was Phil - tall and handsome Phil, with a black quiff and striking blue eyes and a smile that basically lit up the room. He was Sascha’s physiotherapist and tested Dan’s restrain to the max. 

  Dan’s first rule had always been no dating - no distractions on his way to gold. For years it had held up; no relationships, only sex, no strings attached, but within days Dan could tell upholding that rule would only get harder with Phil around. 

  Overall the group was so tightly knitted that Dan wondered if they’d even find room for him. He had always been somewhat of a lone wolf, but something about them made Dan want to belong . 

  And no, it was not the fact that Phil was too hot for his own good and Dan regularly forgot his own name when he looked at him. Not at all. 

  Well, at least not solely that… 

  ___

  For some time things were calm.

  Training with Sascha was going well, great even. The connection on court Dan had felt from the very first minute wasn’t wavering, and he was more than happy about having found a new partner that seemed to fit even better than the last one. He even felt like he finally got somewhere with the group - they started inviting him to outings, Marcelo included him in jokes and Phil had seemingly made it his goal to make Dan lost for words any chance he got.  Only Sascha seemed still a bit wary of him - at least in the group. He was incredibly protective of them, even though he was the youngest, and had trouble trusting Dan for a reason that was beyond his imagination. When Dan had asked Phil about it, he’d smirked and told him it was just a matter of time, but he was getting more and more agitated.

  About two weeks after Dan and Sascha started playing together, the group talked about going to a nearby pub to celebrate something, but Dan hadn’t paid much attention since he hadn’t expected to be invited. 

  As he made his way to the locker room, Phil surprised him by suddenly appearing in front of him, looking more than excited. “Dan! We’re going out for a couple of beers. Wanna come?”

  For a few seconds Dan just stood there, stunned, blinking at Phil like he’d spoken latin instead of english. He risked a look at Sascha and Marcelo to confirm - while Sascha looked a bit miffed he still smiled kindly and Marcelo nodded invitingly. “I - I mean - Sure,” he stuttered out and Phil’s pale blue eyes shined so brightly that for a second, Dan was blinded.

  About half an hour later they arrived at the pub and placed orders for the first round of beer. Dan, still not sure what the occasion was, opened up the conversation. “So - what are we celebrating?” he asked and the table had mixed reactions. While Marcelo’s previous wide smile seemed to dim a bit - Dan was convinced that man would probably smile in the face of death, he’d never seen him not smiling - there was a wide grin on Phil’s face and Sascha… 

  Dan couldn’t believe his eyes. Was he really blushing ? What was happening ?

  It was Phil who took it upon himself to catch Dan up to speed. “So, a few years ago -” 

  “I was really young!” Sascha interjected, and there was definitely a red tint there. Dan smirked. That seemed promising. 

  “He had this crazy girlfriend. Like - she was completely nuts. She was... ” Phil traded off.

  “Insane!” Marcelo provided, seemingly trying to be helpful, and Phil chuckled. “Not what I was searching for, but thanks, Marcelo.” 

  Both grinned at each other with a side glance at Sascha, who stared at the beer in his hand, cheeks still red. 

  “Anyways, Marcelo is right. She was jealous as fuck, controlled him any step he took, posted private pictures of him online, that sort of thing,” Phil said, moving his index finger in circles around his temple, emphasising his words. He waited for Dan to nod in understanding before he continued. “But he just let her. Like an idiot.” He snickered, Marcelo nodded and Sascha acted scandalized, calling out an offended hey! that the other two ignored.

  “He -” Phil started up again, but Sascha interrupted him again. “I thought I loved her!” he tried to defend himself, seeking help with Dan.  He just chuckled. “What happened?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

  “I’d bug him about it for weeks , but nothing happened. He found excuses for her over and over again and I was so tired of it -”

  “And then I knocked some sense into him!” Marcelo heckled, obviously proud of himself, and Phil shot him an unimpressed look. “Can’t a guy finish a story in peace around here?!” he asked and the rest chuckled. 

  “But yeah, Marcelo’s about right. They weren’t that close at the time, it was when Marcelo was still active, but Sascha talked to Marcelo during his strength training and when he came to his appointment a few hours afterwards he told me he wanted to break up with her. And that’s the story of how Sascha finally broke up with his crazy ex.” Phil’s smile was wide and his eyes bright, and Dan struggled not to loose focus. He’s fucking adorable… He silenced his own brain. Shush! Not gonna happen!

  “Since then we come together at that joyous day to celebrate,” Marcelo explained and Dan just couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s quite the story,” he pointed out and the rest chuckled. 

  “You won’t get bored around us, I promise,” Phil said and caught his eyes. “I believe you,” he answered, not looking away, lost in the other’s blue irises, like he was trapped in a kaleidoscope of blue and gold and green.

Goddamnit .

  When he finally managed to break the spell and avert Phil’s eyes before they’d suck him in yet again, Sascha gave him a somewhat satisfied, somewhat encouraging look, and this time, it was Dan’s turn to blush. This group would be the death of him, he was almost certain already. 

  After that incident, Sascha’s wariness decreased, which made it even harder for Dan to avoid Phil and the temptation he caused, but at least it gave him a lot more confidence. Sascha was his one way ticket to gold, and he intended to use it. If he’d become friends with the guy on the way there - even better. 

  Since his weeks of doing basically nothing Dan had kept to his midnight routine of going for a run in the park next to his house. 

  The problem, Dan mused as he jogged along the familiar path, was probably that they were similar in a lot of ways, in their drive for success and in the fact that originally, they were lone wolves. Dan couldn’t know what had happened, how Sascha had come to such a tightly knitted group of friends around him, but it shone through in every movement he made that he once hadn’t had a lot of friends - if any at all. Sure, he had a brother, but Dan could tell from his own experience that bloodlines didn’t form friendships of their own. Now Sascha and Mischa seemed close, but who knew what had lead them there?

  Dan wanted to know more about them, he realized. He was the most interested in Phil, he’d admitted that much to himself already, but he’d closed that door for himself, shut it forcefully and locked it as often as he could - and surprisingly, the others didn’t leave him cold either. Originally, Sascha had been supposed to be his way to reach his goal, but now he - all of them - had become more. He had a feeling they could be great friends - if he’d just let them. 

  Completely lost in thoughts, Dan continued down his usual route, contemplating what to do about the whole Sascha situation. There was something wrong with the guy, something laying heavy on his heart, but he had no clue what exactly. He knew there had to be something he could do - the question was what . He wasn’t really skilled in handling other people, had spent his life refraining from relationships that would only serve as distractions for his main goal. 

  Now, though, it seemed different - a lot was different. Sure, he had no plans on getting a relationship - No, not even with Phil! - but what about friendships? To play his best he had to be open with his teammate, to let him in and truly become a team, he knew that now. But how was he supposed to do that when his teammate obviously hadn’t come to the same conclusion yet? 

  A voice ripped him out of his thoughts mid-step. He came to a slithering halt, looking up and finding himself just a few centimeters away from someone else - someone he identified as Sascha within seconds.

  “Sascha!” he got out between gasps, “What are you doing here?”

  There was a smirk on Sascha’s face as Dan struggled to catch his breath, and he had to stifle a grumble. Stupid youngsters and their stupid fitness.

  “You okay?” Sascha asked, smirk still in place. Dan shot him an intimidating look, but Sascha only grinned. The wild, dirty blonde locks on his head were hardly contained by the headband he had on and stuck out left and right. His striking green eyes shone even more in the pale moonlight and their bright colour reminded him of someone else - for a second, the eyes were blue as the sky on a sunny day, with a black quiff framing a beautiful face, coming closer towards Dan, closer and closer until his lips finally… 

  No! Forget it! 

  Then Sascha snickered again and Dan’s vision of Phil shattered like a mirror. He shook his head quickly, trying to order his thoughts and get back to reality, while Sascha still observed him with a smirk. Dan shot him another look but again, Sascha seemed entirely unimpressed. 

  He sighed. “I’m fine,” he grumbled, finally focussing on the situation at hand. “So what are you doing here?”

  “What do you think I’m doing in a park in the middle of the night in my running clothes?” He raised an eyebrow, then: “I’m about to rob a bank, obviously.” 

  For a second, Dan just stared blankly, desperately trying to hold in a laugh. It wasn’t even that funny, he wouldn’t - then his eyes met Sascha’s and he lost all restrain. He broke out laughing, so loudly it scared up some birds in the area that flew away with irritated squawks.

  That was the start of joint jogging sessions at night and an unforeseeable friendship. They grew closer every day, and Dan was glad Sascha seemed to open up to him more. He trusted him with his group of friends, invited him to hang out with them, and sometimes, when they were alone, Dan could see that he was moments away from talking to him - truly talking. It was obvious Sascha had a lot on his mind, in his heart; and it was also obvious that for some reason, he didn’t think he could talk to the others about it. But there was still something holding him back, something that kept him from talking to Dan about it, and Dan didn’t know what to do to get him to talk. So he waited. 

  Their trial period ended without acknowledgement. No one even talked about breaking off their partnership - as a matter of fact, Dan forgot about the deadline completely until a month later. He and Sascha were training together for two months at this point, and while on one hand, the training went by so fast he couldn’t believe it had already been two months, on the other hand it felt like they’d been partners forever. 

  Sure, Dan loved his sport, loved the sand, playing and giving it his all, but training had still tended to stretch out and drag - at least before Sascha. Now, sessions were filled with laughter and jokes, small pranks and friendly competitions; with Marcelo and Phil sitting on the sidelines cheering them on and clapping. Sometimes, Mischa was there, obviously impressed with the progress they made, and even Dan’s trainer basically forgot to nag half the time, silently watching instead, in awe about their teamwork.

  Phil’s part in Dan’s life became bigger the more he was around all of them, and he shook Dan’s beliefs to the core. He distracted himself with the mystery around Sascha, with training and group outings, where he tried to keep more to the others, but it got harder by the second to resist. He was pretty sure Phil was interested - he kept flirting, leaning into Dan’s personal space or placing a hand on his thigh voluntarily - so Dan was glad he wasn’t required to spent a lot of time alone with Phil. His restrains slowly started to run thin, and he did not want to push his luck any further.

  The partnership between Dan and Sascha continued growing. They started with strategy meetings in preparation for their first tournament together. They played a friendly match against Mischa and his partner which they won by far, and work progressed even faster than anticipated. Sascha still kept silent about his problems, but as he became more familiar with him and their group Dan at least gained enough insight to observe and draw reasonable conclusions. 

  One night they were out bowling, Dan, Phil, Sascha and Marcelo; and while he spent the most time conversing with Phil - damn the guy for being interested in the same things as Dan, how dare he? - Dan really paid attention to the way the group worked. While trying not to focus on Phil leaning into him with his hand on Dan’s knee, he noticed how often Sascha and Marcelo would look at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. How they always seemed to touch in one way or the other. How they sat so close there was no room between them even though it wasn’t necessary, and how many inside jokes they had.

  Marcelo and Phil on the other hand were a lot closer than Dan had first anticipated. They shared looks sometimes, like they were conversing wordlessly, and when Marcelo hesitated in his movements or speech - usually because Sascha came close to him, or touched him, or laughed particularly brightly - Phil would immediately step in and try to distract from it. 

  All that only served to raise more questions for Dan. It seemed clear to him that Sascha and Marcelo had feelings for each other, but didn’t act on it; and Dan simply couldn’t get behind the reasons. And that, Dan realized, might’ve even been the reason Sascha had been wary of him. He made a mental note to ask Phil about it - which brought him to a whole other problem. 

  Phil, hot, precious Phil was testing Dan to the max. Most of the times it seemed obvious he was flirting with Dan, dropping hints that he was single and searching while complimenting him, leaning forward and suspiciously into Dan’s space. He grinned at Dan with that honest, open smile of his, probably aware of the fact that it made Dan’s knees go weak. He even asked Dan if he needed treatment, being a physiotherapist and all, and after some hesitance, Dan agreed to make a plan quite similar to the one Sascha had, with regular appointments. 

  In summary: Dan’s life did not become any easier.

_____

  It was during one of those appointments that Dan finally decided to ask Phil for help to unravel the mystery around Sascha. 

  It had been a particularly weird training. Sascha had had obvious trouble concentrating; he was occupied with looking up at the stands where Marcelo was sitting instead of tactic training. He continued to sigh, but whenever Dan would bring it up, he’d say it was nothing. 

  Dan was fed up with it. 

  So, while he was lying on the treatment couch, Phil’s hands kneading his muscles and therefore in desperate need of a distraction anyways, he just blurted it out. “What’s up with Sascha and Marcelo?”

  The hands on his back stilled for a moment and Phil took a deep breath. He continued the treatment when he’d let it out slowly, but didn’t say anything, and Dan became worried. Had he said something wrong?

  When he’d finally worked up the nerve to apologize - for what, he had no clue, but there had to be something - Phil spoke up again. “As much as I want to,” he said with utter sincerity, “It’s not my secret to tell.” The utter defeat in his voice made Dan’s heart hurt for him. He just wanted his friends to be happy, Dan realized, but was about as powerless as Dan was. 

  “Okay,” he croaked and they didn’t talk about it again. 

  Dan would have to go straight to the source.

  ___

  For around two months not much changed. Dan gradually affiliated into the group, he continued to withstand the temptation that Phil posed, just Sascha’s unceasing silence still had Dan worried. 

  At least until the international beach volleyball association - IBVA in short - uploaded one of their “behind the scenes” videos to their Youtube channel.

  Usually, Dan didn’t pay much attention to the videos they uploaded. In all honesty, he followed their channel more out of guilt than anything else. Just this time, he’d anticipated that video: in their catching up with... series they interviewed former athletes that had retired from the sport for one reason or the other. Athletes… Like Marcelo. 

  Marcelo had been practicing the sport for over ten years until he had won gold at the olympics for the second time, when he had decided to retire; him and Sascha had already been friends at that point. Now he recently turned thirty and worked with different TV Stations broadcasting beach volleyball tournaments, allowing him to travel around with Sascha and the others. The IBVA had interviewed him a week ago, and he’d told the others to tune in when it came out. 

  The first few minutes was nothing too important, just about Marcelo’s life shortly after his career, how he was handling retirement and if he missed the sports. Then they reached the present, and with it, Sascha - a promising youngster of only 22 years who’s recent switch of partners had caused a lot of frenzy in the community. 

  Marcelo breached upon the topic with nonexistent ease, with all the awkwardness he held, but the interviewer ate it up. She dug deeper about Sascha, how he was doing, how close the two were. 

  That’s when he spoke the sentence that had Dan hurting for Sascha. “Yeah, Sascha is my best friend. Like the little brother I never had, you know? I wouldn’t want to do without him for the world.”

  He paused the video out of pure panic - even though Sascha wasn’t even in the room - and for a moment, the world seemed to stop, halting in its rotation to give Dan a moment to grieve for the happiness of a friend that had become so dear to him. He couldn’t believe Marcelo just said that - had he no idea how Sascha felt? Did he not care? And what about his own feelings? Dan would’ve bet all his money on Marcelo having feelings for Sascha as well.

  Yet again more questions appeared and this time, Dan was more than dumbfounded. He’d never expected this to come out of this interview. 

  It took Dan minutes to calm down enough to continue watching the video, but no more important things happened. They moved on from the topic Sascha fairly quickly after; Marcelo said a few words about Dan and how well they worked together, with some kind of dull shimmer in his eyes that Dan just couldn’t decipher, then it was mostly about the sport itself and other contestants in the upcoming tournament. 

  When the video was over Dan sat in silence, staring at the still illuminated screen of his laptop for multiple moments, then he took a deep breath and got up. He had some strength training to do before he met up with Sascha for their nightly jogging session. 

  ___

  When Dan arrived at their usual meetup-point Sascha was not there yet. By itself, that wasn’t a big deal since he tended to be always late for literally everything, but after the video it had Dan a bit worried. Sascha was like Dan in a lot of things - like the fact that he tended to work twice as hard whenever something bad happened. He concentrated on work to not think about his problems. Dan could truly relate. 

  For almost ten minutes Dan waited relatively calm. Then he became increasingly worried. Sascha still wasn’t there, and he had neither answered Dan’s messages nor picked up the phone when he’d called. 

  After half an hour Dan was beside himself. He’d finally called Phil, and while he didn’t know where Sascha was either he at least gave him the useful advice to check his apartment Phil wondered what the fuss was about, though, so Dan just told him to check the video the IBVA had put up. 

  It took Dan less than five minutes to get to Sascha’s apartment block. When he first rang the doorbell, cautiously and unsure, there was no answer, but he wasn’t about to give up that easily. So he just kept ringing. 

  After a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Dan the door finally opened. He climbed the stairs up to Sascha’s floor where he found him, leaning powerlessly against the doorframe, and Dan was shocked. He’d never seen Sascha looking like this - so completely drained of energy, without a flicker of mischief in his green eyes. Instead of standing tall his shoulders were hunched over, his cheeks glistened wet and even behind the glasses Dan could see that his eyes were red and swollen. He wore a shirt of the IBVA that seemed a bit older, but wasn’t too suspicious, until he turned around to make his way into his apartment, revealing a big brazilian flag on the back, and Dan understood that it was probably an old shirt of Marcelo, who was of brazilian origin. 

  “Oh, Sascha,” Dan murmured as he followed him inside, closing the door behind him. Sascha didn’t even say a word as he let himself fall onto his couch, gesticulating vaguely for Dan to take a seat as well. 

  Afterwards, Sascha was completely quiet, staring off into space motionlessly, and Dan was busy taking in his surroundings. There were several tissues thrown about on the living room table. Sascha’s laptop peeked out under some of them, still blinking, indicating that it had just been closed and pushed away mindlessly. The TV was running, showing a beach volleyball match that Dan had been sure was chosen randomly, until he realized that it was an old one of Marcelo and his partner. 

  Dan sighed, unsure of what to do, but then he got up and decided some tea wouldn’t hurt. He’d been in Sascha’s kitchen a few times, so it didn’t take him too long to make some. 

  When he got back into the living room Sascha hadn’t moved an inch and when Dan gently handed him the mug it took him a few moments to even become aware of his presence. Dan sat down again as well, observing worriedly as Sascha cradled the hot mug in his hands. He was sure there were new tears running down the youngster’s cheek and for a second, he wished he’d taken Phil’s offer to come over as well. 

  He had no idea how to handle this, what to do or what to say. Everything that came to mind seemed useless, meaningless. He felt completely powerless. Phil, caring, empathetic Phil would’ve known how to handle the situation, he was sure of it; but he took a deep breath and threw all of his anxiety over saying the wrong thing right out of the window. Anything was better than utter silence. 

  “Sascha…” he started, turning towards his friend now, one leg perched up on the couch. His voice was deep and rhusty, worry so evident in it he had to suppress a wince. He didn’t say more than that, but the intent was clear.

  Sascha didn’t answer at first, but at least he moved to take a cautious sip from his tea, which Dan counted as a win. Then, when Dan had already given up hope, he started talking. 

  “How did you know?” he asked, not even looking at Dan, who sighed. “That you have feelings for him? Honestly, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.” 

  Sascha’s response was a humorless laugh. “That obvious, huh.” 

  “Yeah.”

  Another moment of silence passed and Dan took his mug of tea into his hands as well, looking at the TV to keep himself from looking at Sascha, who seemed like a wild animal - any sound or direct eye contact could have him running in the opposite direction. For a second he was tempted to text Phil - but deep down he knew he could do this, and that it had to be him. Sascha definitely had a reason to not talk to Phil about it, and Dan would honour that.

  “Please talk to me.”

  Dan really didn’t think it would work, but it finally seemed like he’d gotten through to the normally so confident youngster. 

  “I don’t even know why I still have hope. I just get knocked down over and over again. When will I accept the truth?”

  Dan physically flinched hearing the defeat in his voice. He’d been through a lot with Sascha already, had grown as a person and stronger as an athlete, and after the initial hesitance, he’d also grown closer to Sascha as well. Seeing something hurting him like that - it made him hurt too. And it made him think of Phil, and how lucky he was to at least know his feelings were reciprocated, even if he’d chosen not to act on them. He’d be okay. 

  The question was, would Sascha be?

  “I just can’t believe it’s one sided. The way he looks at you….” He trailed of, making a vague gesture with the hand not holding the mug. He wasn’t sure if it was wise to give Sascha even more hope after everything, but Dan just wasn’t ready to give up. He’d get behind this, and then he’d get them together, even if it’d be the last thing he’d do. 

  “I don’t know, Dan, I just - I just don’t understand what’s going on. It’s like - Like…” He stumbled over his words, and when Dan looked over he could see there were new tears shining in the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath. 

  “When I first met him, I never thought - I never even imagined. We didn’t talk a lot, simply because we never ran in the same circles, you know? But then the shit happened with my girlfriend and… He saw me, during strength training, asked me what was wrong, and I just… I felt like I could trust him. So I told him everything. And he told me I was worth more than that. More than the person she wanted me to be. And he said it in a way that…” He visibly faltered for a moment, shooting Dan a quick look before taking a deep breath. 

  “He looked deep into my eyes. Like I was the most important thing in the world. Like he was able to see what she couldn’t.”

  Again there was a pause, and Dan didn’t even dare to move. Sascha seemed so fragile, like the most gentle breeze could scatter him into a million directions. 

  “Looking back, I think I started fancying him then,” he whispered, almost soundlessly. 

  The following silence was so looming, so comprehensive it made Dan shudder. It was pretty clear to him that Sascha had never said it out loud before, and it meant a big deal, so he waited patiently for him to continue. 

  “After I broke up with my girlfriend we truly started talking, and to hang out. He was so nice and easy going, so awkward and adorable, we were interested in the same things and we just - clicked. We grew so close, but every time I think This is it he just… backtracks. He’ll look into my eyes and hold my hand like we’re a couple, like he has feelings for me, and the next thing I know he calls me his brother. And still I-” He stopped short, choking down, and Dan intuitively scooted closer. 

  “You should say it,” Dan prodded softly. “It might help.”

  Still in tears, Sascha looked up to meet Dan’s eyes. 

  “And still I love him,” he choked out between sobs, then he broke down.

  _________

  Surprisingly, not a lot changed after that. Dan and Sascha were closer than before, sure; and during training or hangouts when Marcelo would look a certain way or sit closer to Sascha than strictly necessary they would exchange looks, have entire conversations with nothing but their eyes. After practice, whenever they didn’t do things as a group, Dan and Sascha would come together, watch a movie, play video games - be there for each other. 

  Dan himself was doing pretty good. He and Phil had been growing close as well, but Dan tried to mostly refrain from being alone with him, and so far, it seemed to be working. Sure, sometimes he mourned for the what if , but mostly he was just happy to have gained a friend as amazing as Phil was. 

  He knew, though, that Sascha needed him. The youngster hadn’t been particularly happy with the situation - or over all. Dan had to stand on the sidelines and watch as his best friend became more closed up and silent by the minute, at least around Marcelo, and he didn’t feel good about that. He didn’t understand what Marcelo was doing, but that didn’t mean Dan wanted Sascha to completely lose someone so dear and close to him. On the other hand, he also understood why the youngster was spending less and less time with Marcelo. 

  Overall he felt like he was looking at a doom loop and he had no idea how to break it.  The state of affairs dragged on for weeks. Dan and Sascha went through their first tournament together, which they ended on an amazing second place, and played against Sascha’s brother and his partner again, who they beat once more. 

  After the game, Mischa took Dan aside and asked for news, but Dan couldn’t give him anything. Marcelo on the other hand seemed to struggle to understand what was happening, continuously cornering Sascha and asking him what was wrong. The situation seemed to pain him considerably, too; but that made things just more confusing to him. How had the older man still not figured out what Sascha felt for him?

  It took more than two months to break Dan. He’d had the same talks with Sascha over and over again - “Talk to him!” “I can’t! He can’t know what I feel for him, it would destroy everything!” - “It can’t go on like this. It’s starting to affect your play!” “It has to. I’ll just have to get over it.’’ - etcetera, and he’d had enough.

  Dan also couldn’t imagine how things could get any worse, but he wasn’t about to tell Sascha that.

  Sasch had lost his touch and was struggling to get it back, and Dan had to watch helplessly as he lost more and more motivation to Marcelo, so one Tuesday during one of his routine treatments from Phil after a particularly bad training - Dan kind of just... spit it out. 

  He knew it was wrong, somehow. But it wasn’t like he was able to stop himself, either.

  “It’s so bad. My trainer averted his eyes, and I can’t even blame him. I can’t look at it anymore either,” he groaned when Phil asked him about how training was going. The physiotherapist halted in his movements, just for a moment, hardly noticeable, but Dan sensed it anyway. 

  “Why?” Phil asked before continuing working on his back. Dan was almost used to it by now, at least when it was unspectacular places like his back, so he didn’t even have to bite his lip anymore to keep down a moan.

  The question confused Dan, just a bit, but it was like Phil’s calm and trustworthy presence had finally broken his self-imposed spell of silence on the matter. Sascha hadn’t particularly told Dan to stay quiet, but it might have been implied somewhere. He honestly couldn’t remember, and at this point he didn’t care. He couldn’t just stand by and watch as his best friend got more and more broken by the second. He’d kept silent and not done anything for too long. But not any more. Not for a second longer.

  “Is that really a question? After the video? He’s in pieces. Every time I’m picking him up something happens and he’s breaking apart all over again.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do. I’m completely helpless.”

  Phil’s hands on his back stilled, then they vanished. “You’re done,” he croaked out, breathless, and took a step back as Dan sat up. He gulped visibly, then: “Get dressed. We’re going to my place, and then you’re telling me everything you know. I’m tired of this.”

  ______

  “So, what you’re saying is - Sascha has actually had feelings for Marcelo the whole time?” Phil looked at him with wide eyes, so innocent and unaware Dan wanted to scream. How could someone be that pretty and that clueless at the same time?

  Dan’s eyes felt like they were falling out of their sockets as he stared at Phil, completely dumbfounded. He wasn’t - he couldn’t actually - it wasn’t possible -

  He was. He could. And yes, it was possible.

  “Please don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

  “I had no idea!” 

  “Are you blind ?”

  For a moment, Dan felt bad about it, but he got over it pretty quickly. Honestly, Phil kind of deserved it. The physiotherapist still looked shocked by the news but was now also blushing profusely, avoiding Dan’s eyes. 

  Dan sighed. “You cannot be serious, Phil.”

  More blushing, then: “Marcelo said Sascha didn’t love him back. So I didn’t question it.” 

  Silence settled in until the words properly registered in his mind, then Dan’s head shot up, fixing Phil’s eyes in a gaze. “Back. So I’m right. Marcelodoes have feelings for him!”

  Phil nodded, picking up the coffee mug he’d placed on the table in front of him and taking a huge sip while pressing his foot firmer into Dan’s thigh. “He’s been in love with Sascha for ages.”

  Then he furrowed his brows, staring into the dark liquid like it held the answers to all his questions.

  Dan wished .

  “Wait, but if it was that obvious - he knows Sascha better than anyone else. He must have known about it. Why didn’t he tell me? Why did he lie? What is he doing?”

  Dan sighed again. “That’s the one million dollar question, isn’t it. What’s Marcelo doing?”

  _______

  When Dan asked Sascha why he hadn’t talked to Phil about the situation yet, he told Dan he was scared the physiotherapist would tell Marcelo everything, so Dan cleared up the misunderstanding. Luckily, Sascha wasn’t mad at Dan for telling him, and the situation dragged on. The one good thing about it was that Dan was so enrolled in the mystery that Marcelo posed, he didn’t even have time to think about Phil - to question how close they had become. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that as soon as things were resolved he’d probably break down and throw himself at Phil like a lovesick fool, but he ignored it completely. 

  Maybe he was falling for Phil. Hard. So what? He’d just have to restrain himself. He’d been doing that for months now - what could possibly go wrong?

  Never in the history had that sentence not lead to things going horribly wrong, but he ignored that as well.

  As a team, Dan and Sascha continued to make progress, but as an individual, Sascha’s performance didn’t improve significantly. Sure he had trainings where things were going a bit better - for example when Marcelo was gone for a week, visiting his parents in Brazil and Dan kept him distracted as well as possible - but that wasn’t a lot. Overall, the brash, mischievous Sascha whom Dan had met months ago was missing in action. 

  It didn’t take long for Dan and Phil to start worrying. Group hangouts became less and less frequent and Sascha was asking for time alone, so they spent most of their time together, worrying about their friends and planning how to get them back on track. Sometimes, they’d put on a movie or play video games, and Dan’s restraint around Phil would falter, just for a moment, for a lingering touch or an endearing look, but he managed to keep it at that - as long as it wasn’t more it would be fine. As soon as his lips would touch Phil’s, though, it would be over, and all attempts of abstention would have been in vain.

  Their attempts to get Sascha and Marcelo to talk were mostly unsuccessful. They refused to talk to each other openly, and that did not help calming Dan and Phil’s nerves. The first qualifying matches for the Olympics were approaching with big steps, and they knew: with Sascha being like this, they’d be lucky to even stand a chance. 

  That was why, only a month from their first match, Dan finally lost his patience. After practice he lured Marcelo into Phil’s treatment room and kept him there while Phil brought Sascha for his daily checkup. He sat them down onto a couch in the corner of the room, refusing all protests, and took a seat on some chairs facing them. 

  He and Phil shared a look, squeezing each other’s hand - something they had started doing only recently and completely without Dan’s conscious approval - then he took a deep breath and turned his attention to the men on the couch. 

  “Guys, we’ve been patient. Really patient. We’ve sat by and watched as you drift further and further apart, but it has to stop.”

  “This is an intervention. You two need to talk and because you’re obviously not going to do that on your own, we’re forcing you to,” Phil explained further, and Dan nodded. The look of utter betrayal in Sascha’s eyes weighed heavy on Dan’s heart, but he knew that this was the only way. Sascha was too stubborn to try to improve the situation, and Marcelo had simply given up. Someone had to do something, and there was no one else that would. 

  “Anything one of you wants to share with the group?”, Dan asked, gesticulating with his hands like they were in group therapy, and Phil gave him a grin. The other two didn’t seem particularly impressed with this joke, though. 

  “I have nothing to say,” Sascha said, breathless, hardly making a sound, and Marcelo flinched like someone had punched him. “Who’s surprised,” he mumbled under his breath, and Sascha’s sharp, green eyes turned to him.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was nothing but a hiss, low and dangerous, and Dan was glad it wasn’t directed at him. His partner was a few years younger than him, sure, but he was also tall and well trained and his look could be so sharp Dan swore it could pierce through skin. 

  “You haven’t talked to me in weeks!” Marcelo accused, and Dan and Phil shared a quick look. It was true, sure, but that didn’t mean Sascha’s silence wasn’t at least justified. They had tried to get him to talk as well, but they weren’t the ones causing the behaviour. 

  Sascha’s eyes narrowed and Dan swore the temperature in the room dropped at least ten degrees within a second. “That’s rich, coming from you,” he hissed, pure venom in his voice. 

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re the goddamn reason!” Sascha blurted out forcefully, short of seething. “You’re the goddamn reason for everything! For me being distracted, for my sadness, for my performance dropping! You and that fucking video!”

  “Sascha -” 

  “No! Just no! Not again! I’m tired of it, okay? I’m tired of all of it! Do you know what it does to me, every time you say something like this?” There were tears in the corners of his eyes and Dan unconsciously reached for Phil’s hand. It hurt him, too, and he didn’t have the strength to go through it alone. 

  “Do you know how fucking much it hurts ?”

  For a second, it was silent, and Dan couldn’t help but look at Marcelo - who looked close to tears, obviously trying to avert Sascha’s eyes. “But -” 

  Sascha cut him off again, shaking his head silently. “No buts, Marcelo. Not again,” he said, his voice close to a whisper, and from one second to the next he looked so broken Dan couldn’t help but strengthen his grip on Phil’s hand. 

  Then he got up, attempting to leave the room. Dan was about to get up as well, to keep him there for just a second longer, just to give Marcelo a chance to explain, but the brazilian was behind Sascha and taking a hold of his wrist so fast Dan didn’t even have the time to move a muscle. 

  “That is not fair, Sascha. You were the one telling me off years ago and I can’t know you’d still react like that -”

  “I did what?”

  “Telling me off. During the first interview you did. Remember?”

  Sascha shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

  “When the reporter asked you about the rumors concerning that woman you played a match with for charity. You laughed and told him she was too old for you anyways.”

  Sascha blinked, obviously dumbfounded, but at least a lot calmer than before. “How could you have possibly applied that to yourself?”

  Marcelo’s look was so sad Dan’s heart would’ve broken in his chest would he not be holding onto Phil’s hand for dear life.

  “She’s exactly my age, Sascha. I got the message, bright and clear. I did my best to keep away from you and that aspect, I swear, but you’re just so irresistible and I was already so fucking much in love with you -”

  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dan mumbled to himself, and the physiotherapist next to him nodded affirmatively, but the other two guys weren’t even aware of them anymore. 

  Sascha choked out a sob, tears streaming down his face as he continued to stare into Marcelo’s eyes. “You idiot,” he whispered without any malice, “It was never about you. I just wanted him to stop asking about her. Especially because I had feelings for you …”

  That was the point where Dan had to avert his eyes, where the connection between Sascha and Marcelo became too much and he just felt like he was intruding on a private moment. He carefully tugged at Phil’s hand, gesturing him that they should go. So they did, leaving Sascha and Marcelo and any further developments alone. 

  ____

  Training was a lot better the following week. Sascha’s performance improved and went back to normal within minutes on court; he was able to concentrate, he smiled and laughed with Dan and his technique was back to top quality. Dan was more than relieved. The first qualifying tournament for Olympia was less than a month away and they needed to be at the top of their game. 

  Within the week after that, though, Dan got a feeling something was different - or, to be more precise, something wasn’t different. A specific something. 

  Sascha and Marcelo didn’t act differently at all. They were obviously back to being friends, sure, participating in group outings, joking with each other; but if anything, the touching had decreased . No teasing about their relationship, no suggestive comments, and definitely no kisses, not even on the cheek. Something was definitely not right. 

  He knew he needed Phil’s opinion, so during his physio-treatment - while desperately trying not to get a hard-on because Phil literally had his hands all over his body - he asked. 

  “What’s wrong with Sascha and Marcelo by the way?”

  There was no hesitance in the hands kneading his left thigh dangerously close to his ass and Dan had to stifle a moan. 

  “What do you mean? Everything’s the same as before.”

  “Exactly,” Dan answered with a raspy voice, trying to hide the pleasure. “Shouldn’t something be different?”

  Phil was silent for a moment, switching from the thigh to the calf - slightly less dangerous territory - and Dan allowed himself to relax before the physiotherapist spoke again. “You know what? Now that I think about it… You might be right. They don’t act like a couple at all. Or, well, at least not more than usual.” 

  “Precisely.” 

  After twenty more minutes of treatment - and therefore, twenty more minutes of Dan feeling ridiculously underlaid - they agreed to do some digging. 

  The first task fell to Dan. Him and Phil had agreed that - after everything they’d been through with Sascha - it was unfair to not give him the chance to speak. So during their midnight run Dan asked Sascha about it, about the relationship and if they were in a romantic one, but the youngster’s answers were unsure and vague. After some prodding, he straight-up denied it, claiming him and Marcelo would “work better as friends”. 

  Needless to say that Dan was furious.

  Just to confirm the story, Phil asked the same questions during morning practice, when both him and Marcelo were on the stands. The answers were pretty similar.

  Both Dan and Phil were more than disappointed about that outcome. They got together for some Mario Kart that afternoon, and while Dan was half a round ahead and Phil was fighting for the third spot, they realized they couldn’t just… Leave it at that.

  In reality, they could. They just refused not to. For their friends’ happiness, but also for their own pride.

  “That can’t be it,” Dan observed as he was skillfully maneuvering around a banana peel on track, “They love each other. Why the fuck not start a relationship?” 

  Only after saying it out loud did he realize it was basically a stab into his own guts, and he was lucky Phil was too preoccupied with the game to look at him.

  “True,” Phil confirmed, sticking out his tongue in concentration. 

  For a second, it was silent aside from the sounds of the game, then Dan made a decision as his car was driving past the finish line. “You know what? Not on my watch.”

  Something misschievous glinted in Phil’s eyes when he turned to look Dan into the eyes. “No. Not on our watch.”

  ____

  Two weeks later they were in the car on their way to their first Olympics-relevant tournament and nothing had changed. Nothing at all . They had tried (and, well, failed) to get them together multiple times, had shoved them together for practice, had given Sascha the opportunity to say something, but so far, all their attempts had been in vain. Not only Dan, but even the bubbly, optimistic Phil was rapidly losing confidence in their ability to meddle. 

  It was Marcelo’s shift to drive, so Sascha had, naturally, chosen to sit shotgun - “working better as friends” my ass , Dan thought - leaving the backseats to Dan and Phil.

  Dan, sitting behind Sascha, hadn’t been paying a lot of attention - he was fairly occupied trying to get Phil to relax, with his car sickness and all - so when he looked forward for the first time, trying to get a look on their navi, and he saw a dark spot on the back of Sascha’s neck, almost at his shoulder, for a second he didn’t think anything of it. Then he processed what he’d seen and - Huh?

  He couldn’t be sure, his view was obstructed by both Sascha’s hair and his shirt, but - he leaned over towards Phil, whispering in his ear. Phil’s face, slightly less green than before, showed surprise, then he exchanged a look with Dan, the same question in his eyes. 

  Is that… a hickey ?

  ___

  The tournament went amazingly well. They’d survived the group phase and the first knock out round and were now on for the quarterfinals tomorrow. They’d agreed to have a light training session around midday, but Dan had spent the day hiding from Phil since they’d had a near slip-up the other night playing Fifa (Dan had lost, so he’d started tickling Phil and ended up closer to him than intended and almost kissed him), so he went directly to the training court instead of meeting the others at the hotel. When he arrived, Sascha and Phil were already there, laughing while Phil tried - and failed - to warm Sascha up. 

  When they noticed Dan, Sascha gave a wave and a grin, walking over to his bag to take a drink, but Phil came sprinting towards him through the deep sand. “That is Marcelo’s shirt,” he said in lieu of greeting, and Dan blinked dumbfounded before he understood what Phil was getting at.

  He took a closer look at Sascha’s outfit, and sure enough he was wearing a light blue shirt with a Volleyball emblem on the breast pocket that he’d seen Marcelo wear before. 

  “Oh my god, you’re right. He wore it just two days ago!”

  For neutral parties, it probably wasn’t a big deal, but to Dan and Phil, it definitely was. They were invested in this relationship - more than they would’ve thought before. 

  “Are we becoming fanboys?” Dan asked as they walked over to Sascha. Phil’s stunning blue eyes were glinting in the shining sun and for a moment Dan forgot how to breathe. 

  “Absolutely.”

  ___

  Dan and Sascha made it through the quarterfinals relatively easy, beating their opponents in two straight sets. The match directly after was determining their semi-finals opponents, so Dan and Phil decided to stay to spy on them and get a feeling for how they were playing, but both Sascha and Marcelo chose to go back to the hotel, claiming they wanted to skype their families. 

  The stands built up for the sake of the tournament went up fairly high, and to be less likely to get spotted Dan and Phil decided to search for seats in a far up row, which were mostly empty. From up there, they had a really nice view of the ocean far off to one side - and, coincidentally, the hotel they were all staying in. They were looking straight at their floor and with it, their shared balcony - between the five of them, including the trainer, they occupied the whole side of the floor for themselves. The rooms were connected by a long, shared balcony, which made going over to one of the other rooms for a treatment or a talk with their coach a lot easier. 

  While the teams on court were still warming up Dan looked over to the hotel. He found Sascha at his balcony door, looking out to the court. He had changed into a red shirt and grey shorts shining brightly in the sun, and Dan softly elbowed Phil in the side an gesticulated for him to take a look as well. 

  They watched as Marcelo appeared behind Sascha with his boring white clothes immediately recognisable in the compared darkness of the room. He stepped closer to Sascha, reaching out with his hand, then Sascha let the curtain drop and the scene was out of view. Phil and Dan shared a look. Skyping their families, huh?

  Throughout the game they kept a close eye on Sascha’s balcony door, but the curtain didn’t move again - until their tainer stepped onto the balcony, making his way to Sascha’s room. When he knocked on the glass nothing happened for a while. Then the door opened and Sascha stepped out in his red shorts and white shirt - 

  “He’s in different clothes than before!” Phil pointed out, voice somewhere between excited and surprised, and Dan’s eyes widened as he realized that Phil was right. “So - They went in together, no one comes out for half an hour, and now he’s suddenly in a completely different outfit, even though he’d been freshly showered before?!” Phil summarized and Dan nodded, dumbfounded.

  “Well, that’s not fishy,” he mumbled, “Not fishy at all.”

  ___

  When Marcelo showed up to dinner with a red shirt Dan and Phil were set on investigating further. Something was going on there and they wanted to know what it was. 

  Dan and Sascha finished third in the tournament, which was half the qualification norm for the Olympics, so they were happy with the outcome. They had around a week at home before they were leaving for the next tournament, and they didn’t do much else than relax and a bit of strength training and jogging. 

  Dan particularly despised the last part.

  They spent the day before their anew departure together as a group, playing Mario Kart, Fifa and pictionary, and they had so much fun Dan’s belly hurt from all the laughing. When Sascha beat Marcelo in Mario Kart, the brazilian reached over, tickling the youngster, and Phil gave Dan a look of oh my god they’re so adorable I can’t even that Dan had to agree with. 

  Two hours later both Sascha and Marcelo had left - “to do the rest of packing”, sure Jan , Dan thought - and only Phil had stayed, wanting to help with the cleanup. Everything had stayed completely innocent so far, and Dan mentally patted himself on the back for being so resistant - he hadn’t reacted to either Phil’s flirting nor to his continuous physical contact. He was strong. 

  Until he wasn’t. 

  They were just finishing up the dishes. Dan was at the sink, washing the rest of the glasses and plates when Phil reached up to the cupboard directly above Dan’s head, leaning so far over his body they were touching basically everywhere. Dan could feel the blood rushing into his cheeks and somewhere lower, tightly gripping the edge of the sink - for support or to keep himself from moving, he wasn’t sure - and he stayed determined, he really did, but then - 

  Then Phil’s breath hit the skin on his neck and it was all over. 

  He turned around in a flash, exchanging a short, meaningful look with Phil, then he was kissing him and his world was turning upside down. Nothing was as it had seemed before. His self restraint vanished in a vortex of gold, his brain left his body and all that was left was lust and love. 

  Fuck it, he loved that guy, had had for a long time; and he’d always known all restraint would be lost as soon as his lips touched Phil’s. 

  His life was flashing in front of his closed eyelids as he passionately kissed Phil, showing him all the lost opportunities that they could’ve spent making out, showing him what he had missed out on. But he didn’t even have the mental capacity to process it - he didn’t have the mental capacity to do anything . He had lost all connection to his body, was nothing but a spiritual being flowing through time and space with Phil right by his side. 

  Within a single heartbeat he decided he didn’t care about his stupid rules and his stupid logic. If he wanted to be with Phil - and he did - then he should be, whether he was going for gold or not. It wouldn’t make him stronger, but it wouldn’t make him weaker, either; if anything, it would serve as a further incentive. 

  Between ragged breaths and erratic heartbeats he paused his frantic movements, keeping Phil’s face in his hands and looking him straight into the bright blue eyes. “I love you.” Opposed to the shaking of his body his voice was firm and sure, and for a second, the colour of Phil’s eyes seemed to flare brighter than ever before. 

  “I love you, too,” he said softly, a few tears swimming in his eyes and a smile on his lips so sweet it could give half the world population diabetes just from looking at it. 

  Dan stared into Phil’s eyes and somehow, the world around them vanished. Then, suddenly, he was falling, but not down, no; he was falling up, higher and higher, until he shot through a layer of clouds and all that existed was blue, blue, blue . 

  It took him quite some time to escape the pull of Phil’s eyes, but when he did, he sprung straight back into action - straight back to kissing and touching and… More . 

  The next morning, when he woke up to the colour of Phil’s eyes there was just one word on his mind. “Boyfriends?”

  Phil’s eyes glinted stunningly in the rising sun, and Dan knew he’d remember this day forever. “Boyfriends.”  ____

  This time, the tournament was on another continent, so they went there by plane. Phil slept through almost the whole flight and Dan was busy trying to not gush about how cute he was. 

  They had decided to not tell Marcelo and Sascha in passing, waiting to do it over dinner when they had arrived at their destination instead. After Sascha had shown up at the airport wearing one of Marcelo’s shirts yet again they also wanted to confront them about their observations. Dan didn’t even care that they’d sound like crazy fanboys.

  Well, at least not a lot. 

  Due to time zones it was early in the morning when they arrived, but they all decided to get some sleep anyway. When Dan woke up in time for dinner Phil was laying cuddled into his side, snoring sweetly, and he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Phil’s forehead before he got up. Thankfully, Phil was a heavy sleeper, so he just continued sleeping, giving Dan time to have a long, relaxing shower - or so he’d thought. In reality, Phil joined him halfway through, but it wasn’t like he minded. On the contrary. 

  When they went down for dinner both Marcelo and Sascha were already there, staring at each other over the table like they were the only people in existence. Phil sighed dreamily, giving Dan another They’re so cute look, and Dan had to stifle a giggle. His boyfriend was a major fanboy. 

  Boyfriend.

  Dan’s heartrate picked up at the thought. Even thinking it made him happy. 

  When they had sat down and ordered Dan and Phil exchanged a look, quietly taking hold of each other’s hand under the table. “Phil and I -” Dan started but was unsure of how to continue, how to word what he wanted to say. He was nervous and excited and the previously picked out words jumbled together into a wild storm of letters that he had no idea how to decipher. 

  Thankfully, Phil was less concerned by the whole thing. 

  “We’re together now. And we’re really happy.”

  It was quiet at the table as Sascha and Marcelo looked at each other with raised eyebrows. 

  “We know,” Sascha said, slowly and clearly, like he wasn’t sure about Dan and Phil’s mental state. 

  Dan sputtered. “Wha - What?” 

  “How did you know?” Phil asked, more interested than surprised, and Dan blinked at him in shock. Why did it not shock him? Was everyone going insane?!

  “It’s been obvious for weeks now,” Marcelo explained calmly and finally, Dan understood, relaxing immediately. 

  He let out a short laugh. “We’re together since last night. Or the night before, depending on the time zone we’re going with.”

  Marcelo and Sascha blinked in complete unison, making Phil giggle. “But-”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell us you are together as well? Because you were mad we didn’t tell you?” Dan asked, a lightbulb going off above his head. He paused for a moment before he added: “You guys are together, right?”

  Both him and Phil started grinning like a fool when the others nodded. Oh, how he loved it when things finally made sense, and when things turned out the way he planned them too. He gave Phil a high five in celebration, then he turned to Sascha and Marcelo, still grinning. “You’re idiots.”

  They at least had the decency to look shameful.

  “We’re all idiots,” Phil corrected and the others couldn’t help agreeing. They clinked glasses with champagne a few minutes later, and Phil literally cooed as his inquire made Marcelo lean over the table and give Sascha a passionate kiss. 

  They shared a lot of laughter and fun that night, and Dan had a better time than ever before. He looked at his group of friends with happiness and pride, and he had never felt more content in life. 

  ____

  A few weeks later him and Phil finally had the time to go on their first official date. The days had been crazy, packed and busy, but they’d been the best of Dan’s life. The letter with his official invitation to the Olympics weighed heavily in his pocket when he entered the old, 50s themed diner. The place looked decisively vintage with its off-white walls decorated with vinyls, black and white checkered tiles on the ground and lamps hanging from the ceiling. 

The jukebox up front was playing Cry Me A River as they slid into their booth, Phil on the other side of the table. They both grinned as they mouthed along to the song. The glowing red neon lights brought out the blue in Phil’s eyes so stunningly Dan once again was blinded by their beauty. 

  They shared a milkshake with two straws like they were in one of these cheesy romance novels Dan had always despised, but somehow he didn’t care anymore. He embraced the romantic cliches like they were old friends - simply because with Phil, it all seemed okay. Phil had step by step teared down all of his walls and rules, what was one more in this jumble of new experiences and feelings and happiness?

  He let his fingers skim over the paper in his pocket as he looked into Phil’s eyes, only listening half-heartedly as Phil rambled on about one thing or the other, an utterly lovestruck look on his face. Maybe he didn’t have gold yet, but within the last few months he’d gained and accomplished more than he’d ever dreamed of. Still, it had only been the beginning, he knew it. He was happy with Phil, Sascha was happy with Marcelo, they were happy as a group, and in a few weeks, they’d have a shot at winning gold. 

  Their future was golden, one way or the other. 

Love Yourself (Chapter 32)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 17k story words: 267k (so far) chapter: 32/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression, consensual d/s undertones genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: um so this is like a month overdue... but it's long af. and i've cut down what was going to go in this chapter. i hope it is worth the wait <3 massive thanks as always to @auroraphilealis for being my biffle, beta, and cheerleader. she's been by my side as a beat this chapter to death and listened to a million rambles of why it was important to me to keep it all together (which i only mostly ended up doing) and other pretentious shit. she's wonderful xx

note: this chapter contains more explicit themes than past ones. unlike past chapters, outside of the marked smut, there is risque material. skim at your own discretion if you are uncomfortable, but it wasn't set up in a way i could mark

By the time filming had finally ended, Dan felt emotionally fucking exhausted. Being so open and honest on national television, and having to be so careful with his words, had drained him of just about everything. There wasn’t an ounce of propriety left in him, and at this point, all he wanted was to be taken care of and not have to fucking think for a little bit.

Letting go — whatever that meant — was impossible on set. From the second he’d finished performing his song and had ducked backstage, he’d been craving a hug from Phil — a proper hug, not the one-armed bro-hug Phil had given him. But stagehands were running everywhere, and there didn’t seem to be a bloody centimeter of privacy, so Dan resisted. The minute he got in the uber, he could collapse against Phil.

But for now, resting his foot against Phil’s as he stood behind the stage wall would have to suffice. Dan closed his eyes, replaying his interview in his head as he listened to the loud hum of the audience laughing and applauding and — holy fuck. He’d actually just done that. He’d actually talked about his most personal matters, something he’d taken great lengths to keep secret, in front of all of those people. The studio held what? Two hundred people?

Two hundred people who were now privy to Dan’s rambling thoughts about sexuality and boxes, who now had a whole fountain of knowledge about Dan’s sexual and romantic preferences. Two hundred people who had seen Dan be open and vulnerable and honest.

The gravity of the interview smacked Dan in the face, and that’s when he realized, really truly realized, that those two hundred people were just the beginning. In a few short hours, that interview would play on national American tv, would stream on youtube worldwide. And sure, he had known that while he was filming, but he hadn’t known. Not in the way it was all hitting him now.

Dan swallowed thickly and let his hand brush against Phil’s. He wanted out of here. He wanted a hug. He wanted to think about anything other than this interview, his fate, his audience, just for a little bit anyway.

The twenty minutes it took to get an all clear lasted about five years. Dan was so on edge and ready to leave that he was already ordering a car before a stagehand had even finished dismissing them. Without waiting for proper goodbyes, Dan seized Phil’s wrist and dragged him out of the studio, down the lift, out the back door — and not the back door that fans often waited for celebrities at, either.

Dan felt a wave of relief rush through him when he burst out of the exit and found a black car already stalled next to the curb. Rushing over to the car, Dan wrenched open the back door and ushered Phil inside.

The relief coursing through Dan’s veins ran cold when the driver greeted him though. The way he confirmed Dan’s name, the breathlessness in his voice and the distinct spark in his eye — they were the unmistakable signs that someone recognized him.

Perhaps the ride back to the hotel wouldn’t be as relaxing as Dan had hoped.

Still, Dan shuffled in after Phil, leaving the full space of the middle seat between them. And less than a block later, Dan’s hunch was proven right when the driver asked which show he had been recording for at Rockefeller Center.

Not wanting to actually engage with this stranger, Dan grunted a reply and made a show of putting in his headphones, even though he didn’t actually play any music. It may have been rude, but it worked. The driver didn’t ask any follow up questions.

Of course, that didn’t stop his gaze from flickering into the rear view mirror every other bloody second. Dan felt like an animal in a glass box, on display and on edge. Phil was right there, but Dan didn’t feel like he could reach out, not under such intense observation.

Like Dan had told himself and Phil and Louise a million times, tonight was about talking about bisexuality, about giving that topic all the attention it deserved, not about him and Phil. The last thing Dan wanted was to have their relationship inadvertently outed by a random crew member or uber driver.

So Dan held back. Instead of sinking into his boyfriend’s side and letting himself get lost in Phil, Dan stayed on his side of the backseat and fell prey to one of the most volatile coping strategies he had — the internet.

Dan googled the average number of viewers of The Tonight Show and discovered it was over two million a night — and that wasn’t including the extra views that youtube brought in. And that, naturally, brought Dan to his next google search, where he discovered that The Tonight Show’s youtube channel had a whopping nineteen million subscribers. Subscribers who would undoubtedly have access to Dan’s rants about bisexuality, and his recently failed relationship, in just a few hours time.

Overwhelmed by the sheer significance of everything, Dan spread his legs obnoxiously far apart so that one knee pressed into Phil’s. Phil nudged back deliberately, a silent reassurance of his presence, a subtle demonstration of his support.

It wasn’t the bear hug Dan craved, but it was enough for now. The slight pressure of Phil’s leg against his own helped Dan stay grounded as he switched gears and fell down a wikipedia black hole about most viewed celebrity interviews. Unsurprisingly, videos about famous entertainers coming out were high on the list.

Right. No pressure there.

By the time the car pulled up to the hotel, Dan’s desire for real physical contact had developed into flat out desperation. He just needed this goddamn weight to ease back for a fucking minute.

Without waiting for Phil, Dan hiked his backpack over his shoulder and bolted into the hotel, through the lobby, and straight to the lifts.

It seemed to take bloody forever for a lift to actually arrive, but it took even longer for Phil to catch up. Dan had to pass on two elevators before he finally saw Phil entering the hotel, lumbering awkwardly across the lobby, weighed down with Dan’s guitar.

Oops.

In Dan’s haste to make it to their room, he’d forgotten that his guitar — his favorite guitar — was in the trunk. Eyeing Phil’s lopsided stance, Dan grimaced and took a small step towards him.

“Sorry,” Dan said apologetically as he pressed the up button for the third time. “Lemme take that,” he offered, reaching out for the worn handle of his guitar case.

With absolutely none of the coordination that Dan had developed over the years, Phil switched the guitar to his opposite hand, suddenly making it much harder for Dan to easily swipe it out of his grip.

“Phillll,” Dan whined, reaching across Phil’s body for the handle.

“Dannnnnn,” Phil retaliated as he stuck his tongue out and held the guitar even further out of Dan’s reach. His bicep was quaking, and his body definitely wasn’t used to the extra awkwardly large weight, but Dan couldn’t help appreciating how fucking sexy it was that, for the first time in ages, he had someone that was willing — determined, even — to carry Dan’s shit.

The bell on another lift finally dinged, and the doors opened. Dan’s attention snapped from Phil’s playful face to the empty lift. Relief rushing in just by the sheer presence of the lift, Dan gestured for Phil to take the lead. Luckily, it was that in-between time of night when most people were at dinner or something of the sort, and they had the lift to themselves. Dan took advantage of the brief moment of privacy and stepped in close to Phil, his knuckles gently brushing against Phil’s hand, the loving fingers that were inexpertly wrapped around the handle of Dan’s heavy guitar.

“Thanks,” Dan murmured, the teasingly childish tone suddenly vanishing, and a disgustingly sweet one taking over. In what he hoped wasn’t too cheesy of a move, Dan closed the small distance between them and pressed a chaste kiss to Phil’s cheek.

Brows furrowed, Phil cocked his head at Dan. “Dan, it’s just a guitar, I don’t mind.”

“Mmm,” Dan hummed, stepping back to his place. He watched the numbers climb as they passed floor after floor, observing Phil out of the corner of his eye. Phil was quiet, but shot Dan an odd look, his expression a mix of pointed and sad. It utterly baffled Dan for a second — until he remembered their conversation from yesterday morning, that was.

Phil didn’t have to say a word, Dan could practically hear him pointing out that his reaction was a bit unhealthy. Appreciation was fine, sure, but the amount of surprise he felt at a partner doing something so simplistically nice probably didn’t speak highly of his past relationships.

Wanting out of that moment before Phil could force Dan to properly think about his reaction, Dan darted out of the lift as soon as the doors opened and hurried down the hallway. Behind him, Phil’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, pausing just out of reach when Dan came to a halt outside of their door and fumbled to find his room key.

Maybe nerves or exhilaration or exhaustion was still gripping Dan, or maybe it was the knowledge that he had Phil and a hotel room and a foreign city all to himself tonight, but it took him three tries of swiping their card before the light finally flickered green.

The click of the latch was a wave of relief, and Dan found himself shoving their door open with far more force and enthusiasm than was necessary. Without waiting for Phil, Dan barrelled into their room and crossed the space in three quick strides, coming to a stop in front of their bed and spinning around to stare impatiently at Phil.

Fucking finally, they were alone.

Phil was a few steps behind him, and didn’t seem to have any of the urgency that Dan had. Dan watched anxiously as Phil walked towards him at the pace of an impregnated, fat sloth. Carefully, and ungodly slowly, Phil sat the guitar down in front of the bed and finally, finally his hands were free.

Dan didn’t wait for Phil to straighten up before launching himself into Phil’s arms, physically demanding to be held. The sudden weight of Dan threw Phil off balance, causing him to stumble backwards towards the bed.

“Oi,” Phil gasped as he tumbled to the bed, just barely managing to not fall all the way onto his back under Dan’s momentum. Even as he fell, his hands landed on Dan’s hips and pulled him down to the bed too. Just for a moment, Dan found himself awkwardly leaning into Phil, not quite sitting, not quite standing.

With a flustered giggle, Dan shifted his body so he was straddling Phil’s lap instead. Dan’s hands slid up from Phil’s waist, and looped around his neck, finally pulling him into the private and intimate embrace Dan had been dying for.

“Well hello there,” Phil greeted, his hands dipping under the hem of Dan’s jumper, his fingers thumbing over the jut of Dan’s hipbone. Phil’s voice was low, and his touch was sultry, and Dan couldn’t hold back a shaky sigh. He felt so damn needy, and the soft drag of Phil’s fingers on his bare skin was already quieting his screaming mind some.

Dan shifted back up, just enough so that he could look Phil in the eye. The cheeky and smug look on Phil’s face wasn’t surprising — maybe someday Phil would stop looking so satisfied about the reactions he pulled from Dan, but they clearly weren’t there yet.

“Hi,” Dan responded with a smile, not even bothering to hide the effect Phil was having on him. Dan tipped his head forward, closing the small distance between them, and pressed his lips to Phil’s.

Despite Phil’s teasing tone, he let Dan take what he wanted, matching Dan kiss for kiss and touch for touch. Dan wasn’t sure who licked whose lips first, who opened their mouth for who first. He did, however, realize that it only took a short minute for them to escalate from sweet kisses to proper snogging.

Before they could get too carried away, Dan pulled back, panting slightly. Even though he needed a decent lung capacity for singing, it seemed that kissing Phil for two minutes stole his breath in a way that a long high note never could.

“Where’s — the room service — menu?” Dan asked, his words coming in pants as his gaze drifted to the bedside table and then the desk, searching for a helpful booklet.

Phil fingers slipped down from the middle of Dan’s waist to the low hem of his pants. His brows furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. “Why?” he asked.

Huffing an exaggerated sigh, Dan shot Phil an incredulous look. “Because I’ve had a crazy fucking day and would like to let loose a little…?” After knowing Phil for nearly three full months, Dan was rather surprised to have to point out the obvious to him.

“Well yeah,” Phil huffed and cleared his throat. His pupils were blown wide, and now it was Dan’s turn to feel pleased with himself; he might be a mess from two minutes of kissing Phil, but Phil was just as flustered after two minutes of kissing Dan. “I know that much.” Phil rolled his eyes and slid his hands out of Dan’s trousers to a less scandalous spot, tracing his thumbs lightly Dan’s prominent hip bones. “I just meant, I’m surprised that you don’t want to go out since we only have a few nights here.”

Dan shrugged, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplated Phil’s comment. He’d definitely had some great nights in the bars of New York, but they’d all come with the unfortunate price tag of at least half a dozen paparazzi photos. That wasn’t what Dan wanted tonight — tonight he just wanted Phil.

Tentatively, Dan let his hands drift from Phil’s shoulders up to his bare neck, his thumbs softly rubbing along Phi’s pulse points. “I mean… It’s not that I don’t want to enjoy New York, I just…” Dan couldn’t help the way his gaze drifted down from Phil’s, landing instead on his lips. Coyly — or at least he hoped it was coy and sexy — Dan slipped his hands down Phil’s neck and under the collar of his button-up shirt. “I’d rather not be bothered by a fan or the media tonight, ya know?” Just in case the meaning behind his words wasn’t clear enough, Dan dipped his thumb further down Phil’s shirt and grazed his collarbone suggestively.

“Mmm, that’s fair,” Phil murmured. Taking Dan’s lead, Phil’s hands nudged up higher on Dan’s hips, pushing his leather jacket and tight jumper up even higher so Phil’s fingers could brush over the bare skin near the top of Dan’s ribs. “But what if I told you I knew a place where we’d be left alone?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Dan straightened up. He’d been in New York. He’d been to elite clubs, he’d been to dive bars, he’d been to locals only restaurants — and on every occasion, he’d been photographed. In his experience, this was a city of famous people, and in turn, that meant it was a city of photographs and tabloids, a city of journalists searching for their next break.

“What kind of place is this?�� Dan asked skeptically.

“Well,” Phil bit his lip, suddenly looking a little hesitant. “Technically it’s a gay club. But the standard cover is high enough to keep out most fans, and they’ve got an absurd amount of security, just in case.”

“How do you know about a place like that?” Dan pried; he’d been to New York half a dozen times and he’d never heard of any exclusive gay clubs. But even as Dan questioned Phil’s knowledge, he could feel the excitement growing in his stomach. He hadn’t been to a proper gay bar since he was seventeen, and never with a partner — at least not someone who wasn’t just a fling. He couldn’t deny that the idea was hotter than hell.

“Oh. Uh, well,” Phil shrugged awkwardly, sounding shifty. His eyes darted away from Dan’s, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Another gay youtuber has a friend who is a bouncer there?” he explained, but he sounded so unsure that it came out as a question.

Dan eyed Phil suspiciously. “How jealous should I be of this guy right now?”

“Of Tyler? Not at all. No way. Never.” Phil shook his head vehemently, his gaze flicking back to Dan.

“And Tyler is…?” Dan prompted slowly, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head.

“He’s just a casual friend who lives in LA. We collaborate when we’re in the same city,” Phil shrugged.

Dan narrowed his eyes skeptically. “And the bouncer?” he pushed, sensing that there was something that Phil wasn’t admitting.

Phil’s gaze shifted to the side again, his cheeks growing red. The grip on Dan’s chest slipped, Phil’s hands dropping down to the base of Dan’s hips.

Dan’s heart followed Phil’s hands, plummeting down into his stomach and then somehow sinking even further. Just from Phil’s reaction, Dan knew he’d figured it out.

“It was one time and really didn’t matter,” Phil admitted, sounding defeated, embarrassed. “But he’ll let us both in for free and there won’t be cameras there.”

Dan was surprised to find that he wasn’t just jealous, he was almost repulsed. His stomach churned as his brain supplied images of Phil and some gorgeous boy tangled in bed together, making him feel nauseous.

“I’m not sure I want to meet a guy you’ve fucked,” Dan said, aiming for teasing and joking, but as soon as he said it, he was sure the insecurity shined through. “I mean, what if he’s cuter than me?” Dan chuckled half-heartedly, doing his best to salvage his dignity. He really didn’t want Phil to think he was a jealous dick or clingy or something else completely annoying. Even if it was kind of true.

Phil laughed — genuinely laughed, not an awkward chuckle like before. “First off,” he started, his voice actually light and humorous, not forced casual like Dan’s. “There’s no way anyone has ever, or could ever, be cuter than you. Not that I'm aiming to find someone else.” As if to prove his point, Phil’s fingers dipped into Dan’s jeans and pointedly hooked under his pants. It wasn’t just a little this time; now Phil’s hands were properly inside of Dan’s pants, his fingers inching towards more intimate parts of Dan’s body. “And second off,” Phil continued, “I suffered through two months of knowing you were sleeping with someone else. I think five seconds of interaction with a random guy I slept with a year ago doesn’t compare.”

“Uh!!” Dan gasped in protest, his voice high pitched and offended. “I didn’t sleep with her for the last month and you know it!”

“Yeah, now I know,” Phil agreed begrudgingly. “But I didn’t then and I was so damn envious.” Phil licked his lips slowly. “Plus,” he added, his voice lower and gruff. “You were sleeping with her in the beginning, and I had to watch you come in with marks all up and down your neck that proved it.” As if to make his point, Phil dragged his fingers along Dan’s sensitive neck possessively, thumbing over the spot where coverup was hiding a hickey on Dan’s pulse point.

Dan’s stomach twisted in reaction, and a shiver ran down his back — whether it was the clear jealous attitude or the cursing that was turning him on, he wasn’t sure. There was a part of him that was willing to forfeit embracing any amount of New York tonight, that wanted to rock his hips forward and show Phil just how little reason he had to be jealous now, to take full advantage of the nice hotel room they had.

“Come on, let me take you out, buy you a few drinks. Maybe a nice dinner first, if you’re hungry,” Phil pleaded.

There was another part of Dan — an unexpectedly bigger part of him — that was itching to go out with Phil, to find a different way to show Phil that Dan was all his, even if it wasn’t the approach he was used to. And besides, after so many months of being dragged out by his ex, something in Dan couldn’t help finding the fact that Phil wanted to take him out, just for the sake of being together, incredibly sexy.

“Alright,” Dan agreed, conceding even as he let his hips suggestively rock against Phil’s just once — he couldn’t resist, not if he wasn’t going to have the chance to do so for a while. “We should definitely have something to eat first, though. I haven’t eaten nearly enough today and I reckon I’ll be drunk after half a cocktail if we don’t get food.”

“Fair enough,” Phil agreed as his hands slipped out of Dan’s pants, lightly gripping Dan’s hips and guiding him backwards. Tilting slightly to the side, Phil fished his phone out of his back pocket. “What kind of food do you want, then?”

“Doesn’t matter. Something with a view of the city might be nice,” Dan suggested with a small shrug. Sliding all the way off Phil’s lap, Dan made his way to the mirror, fluffing at his hair. The makeup from earlier still looked nice; the eyeliner wasn’t smudgy and the color on his cheeks still seemed to accentuate his features. Eyes meeting Phil in the mirror, Dan added, “Nowhere so fancy we can’t wear the clothes we’re wearing to the club, though.”

He knew if they had to come back to the hotel to change there was no way Phil was convincing him to leave again.

“I know just the place,” Phil said decisively, his gaze turning back to his phone.

*******

Less than an hour later, an uber was dropping Dan and Phil just outside of Times Square with an apology that they couldn’t get them any closer to their destination. During what felt like an infinitely-long car ride for Dan’s curious nerves, Phil had refused to tell Dan where he was taking him, and for a split second, Dan had been worried Phil was going to usher him to one of the hot dog or pizza carts littered around the square before leading him to a bench to people watch.

Not that Dan was strictly opposed to street food — he certainly didn’t want Phil to splurge on another fancy meal so soon after their last date. But also, he’d learned from experience what some vendors’ food will do to stomachs, and if they were planning to head to a club later that night, they should at least try to spare themselves diarrhea and food poisoning.

Phil took a hard right before they made it to the throngs of people though, his hand on Dan’s lower back to guide him in the right direction. The sudden turn led them… into the valet entrance to the Marriott?

Dan turned to look at Phil, but his face was perfectly neutral. “Phil, did you bring us halfway across Manhattan to eat at a different hotel’s restaurant?” Dan asked dubiously, letting Phil lead him through the revolving doors and into the hotel lobby.

“Yeah, we’re going to eat at the touristy hotel bar of a place we aren’t even staying,” Phil responded sarcastically. His hand dropped from Dan’s back, something that disappointed Dan until he followed Phil’s gaze to a gaggle of teenagers across the lobby. “Just trust me, Howell,” Phil teased, flashing Dan a coy smile as he pressed the call button for the lift, the doors immediately opening.

“If you insist,” Dan smirked, stepping into the lift after Phil. “You’re on thin ice though, Lester.” Despite the mock-warning in his voice, Dan quickly closed the gap between them when the doors closed and pressed a quick kiss to Phil’s cheek.

The doors parted again just seconds later, letting them out at the third floor. Confidently, Phil led them down the hallway, only to stop in front of another set of lifts. Dan cocked an eyebrow but wordlessly followed Phil as the doors to the next lift opened.

“Those only go to hotel rooms past this floor,” Phil cryptically explained as he pressed the button for the forty-eighth floor. This ride was longer, giving Phil enough time to lean in and kiss Dan on the lips. “I can’t promise this place will be free of photographers, so get it out of your system.”

Despite his giggles, Dan leaned forward and captured Phil’s lips with his own, this time lingering long enough to capture Phil’s lower lip between his teeth, long enough to nip at the soft and sensitive flesh inside Phil’s mouth. Long enough to reach for Phil’s hips and slip his fingers beneath Phil’s clothes, suggestively thumbing across the bare skin of Phil’s waist.

“Mmff!” Phil let out a throaty noise halfway between a moan and a reprimand, as he pulled back from Dan’s kiss.

“What?” Dan asked innocently, even as he let his fingers drift towards Phil’s arse. “You said to get it out of my system.”

“Well I didn’t think you’d feel me up in a lift,” Phil shot back snarkily.

“Mmmm,” Dan hummed. “Maybe I could resist feeling my boyfriend up in a lift if he didn’t look so damn gorgeous.” Dan eyed the denim jacket Phil was wearing, his gaze lingering on the fitted shirt covered with tiny pale flowers that was buttoned up all the way to his Adam’s apple, drawing Dan’s attention to Phil’s neck. The deep, pinot-noir purple stood out starkly against Phil’s pale skin, bringing out his eyes and making him look unfairly quirky and sexy at the same time.

The bell dinged and the doors parted, cutting off Phil’s reply. Dan snapped his mouth shut, but let himself continue eying Phil as he exited the lift — he could only do so much to tamp down his blatant arousal tonight, when Phil looked like that.

Phil didn’t hesitate to stride up to the host stand and give his name — that was something Dan was still getting used to, a partner being willing to take the lead in moments like this. It was proving to be far hotter than Dan had ever expected it to be.

Dan was still processing everything when the hostess started leading them towards a table. The restaurant seemed to form a circle around the lifts, and all of the exterior walls were replaced with grand windows overlooking the New York skyline.

Dan had only gotten one foot on the raised platform before Phil’s hands were softly gripping his shoulders. It was a good thing, too; Dan was fairly certain he would have fallen if Phil hadn’t steadied him. Beneath their feet, the platform was moving.

“What the…?” Dan breathed, baffled by the way the top step was moving but the bottom wasn’t.

“Look outside,” Phil murmured, his voice just centimeters from Dan’s ear. Following Phil’s suggestion, Dan glanced out the nearest window. Now that Dan was looking closer, the city around them seemed to be shifting slightly, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the restaurant that was rotating ever so slowly, not the skyscrapers outside.

“Holy shit,” Dan mumbled quietly, coming to a halt when the hostess gestured to a small table along one of the massive windows.

Dan sat, too captivated by the view of this foreign city to pay attention to the muted conversation Phil was having with the woman. Outside, Dan could see building after building, could see the moon rising over the water. It was a spectacular view, and judging by the slow rotation, it was only a portion of what he was going to see tonight.

It wasn’t until Phil’s knee gently bumped against his that Dan tore his gaze away from the window and turned back to face his boyfriend instead.

“When did you have time to make a reservation?” Dan asked stupidly, his brain still struggling to wrap itself around the amazingly gorgeous restaurant Phil had brought him to.

“While you were primping for tonight,” Phil teased. His hand slid across the table just enough to brush his knuckles across the back of Dan’s hand.

Dan’s hand, the one that wasn’t just barely touching Phil, flew up to self-consciously pat his curly hair.

“Stop,” Phil gently ordered. “You look good. Really good. Primping time was well used.”

Dan’s hand fell back to the table, his thumb immediately tapping out a mindless rhythm. He couldn’t believe Phil had taken the twenty minutes of downtime to book them a window-side table. “You’re amazing,” Dan sighed, awe dripping from his voice. “Seriously amazing.”

Phil tilted his head to the side, shrugging his shoulder as he flashed Dan a cheeky grin. “That is what they call me,” he said playfully.

“Oh fuck off,” Dan huffed, unable to stop the wide smile that spread across his face and the way his hand pressed against Phil’s. Teenage Phil really had picked out the perfect username for himself — amazing was by far the best word to describe him.

Dan’s gaze drifted back to the window. The view was slowly twisting so that they could see more and more of the river. The water was twinkling, reflecting both the moon and the bright lights of the city.

“Wait,” Dan exclaimed suddenly, his head whipping from the window to Phil. “Don’t you get motion sickness?”

Phil shrugged, a soft smile on his face. “Usually. But the restaurant moves so slowly that it won’t bother me as long as I don’t look outside for too long.”

Huffing a small sigh, Dan frowned slightly. “We could have gone to a restaurant where the view wouldn’t make you sick,” Dan pointed out.

“We could have,” Phil agreed easily. “But I knew you’d like this one.”

“Oh,” Dan mumbled quietly, a smile pulling at his lips. He turned his attention to the menu, if for no other reason than an easy excuse for hiding the blush that was flushing his cheeks. Phil ignored his dinner menu in favor of the black, leather-bound drink book on the table.

“Does your hatred for white wine extend to champagne, as well?” Phil asked idly, not looking up from the menu he was studying.

“Definitely not,” Dan denied vehemently, smiling stupidly at the thought of Phil ordering them champagne. “Champagne is its own branch of alcohol and it’s wonderful.”

“Good,” Phil folded the alcohol menu primly, and looked back up at Dan. “Because you were truly exceptional tonight, and deserve to be spoiled.”

“Phi-illlll,” Dan whined, bringing his menu up to hide the redness of his face with such force that it accidentally smacked him in the nose. His stomach tightened at the compliment, a shiver ran down his spine.

“Oh I forgot,” Phil said innocuously, his voice far too knowing to actually be innocent. “Does someone have a bit of a praise kink?” Phil continued with fake-casualness, his voice low and quiet. Husky. Sexy.

Dan dropped his forehead to the table with a resounding thunk, the menu shifting to cover the back of his head as his hands shielded his face from Phil’s view. “You aren’t supposed to take advantage of that in public.”

“Oops!” Phil laughed, actually laughed, as he kicked a foot out to nudge Dan’s. “Sit up and pick out what you want for an appetizer, babe.”

Slightly mortified, and more than a little flustered, Dan rose up again, his gaze steadfastly fixed on his menu. It was a fruitless effort, though — he could feel Phil’s eyes boring into him, which did nothing to calm his pounding heart and swooping stomach.

He realized they’d been handed a prix-fixe menu, meaning they would each get three courses for the flat rate of… holy shit. Eighty nine dollars.

At this rate, it was getting hard to tell if Phil’s tastes in restaurants was just as fancy as Dan’s, or if he was trying far too hard to impress him. In the months that Dan had gotten to know Phil, he’d learned that Phil was generally somewhat frugal — though never to a fault. In his business and personal life, Phil was always conscious about how he earned and spent his money. That hardly seemed in line with the extravagant dinners he was taking Dan to.

“Phil,” Dan started carefully, planning to test the waters and see if Phil would want to switch to the normal menu, one where they could share an appetizer and skip dessert (and shave a few dollars off the bill).

“Hush up and choose your appetizer, Howell,” Phil said without looking up from his own menu.

“Fine, I will, but…” Dan trailed off, his eyes darting out the window to avoid looking at Phil for a second before drifting back.

Phil folded his menu in front of him and looked at Dan with an unreadable stare. “But what?”

“But… you know not every date has to be expensive food and fancy restaurants, right? I’d be fine with Dominos and your sofa.”

“And I’m sure we’ll have our fair share of nights in with too much pizza. But I also like quality food and nice restaurants, and I know you do, too. So order whatever you want and enjoy tonight.”

Dan’s face must have betrayed the small bit of wariness that was still gnawing at his stomach, because Phil continued, “Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise you can pay next time we go somewhere expensive, okay?”

Dan smiled, his heart melting. “I adore you, Phil Lester.”

“And I you, Daniel Howell.”

****

The food was heavenly. Dan opted for lighter, mostly vegan dishes — a salad and a lovely squash roast — because he didn’t want to feel bloated and lethargic if they were going out after dinner. Phil had seafood instead and offered Dan small tastes of it, holding his fork across the table and letting Dan bite off it.

Dinner was lovely, but the company was even better. By the time their waiter was bringing them dessert menus, they were both well on their way to properly tipsy.

Sometime during the main course, Phil had ordered a second bottle of Dom Perignon. The bubbles — and ever growing feelings of infatuation — were going straight to Dan’s head, making him feel giddy in a way he couldn’t ever remember feeling before.

Around them, the restaurant was quietly buzzing with the Friday night crowd, the bar growing slightly more crowded as the night went on. Sometime in the past hour, the overhead lamps had dimmed, the lights of the city outside casting a soft glow over their table. They’d made a full circle, rotating around to see the empire state building and central park, and now they were back to the river.

Still though, Dan only had eyes for Phil.

Under the table, their feet were entwined together, mostly shrouded by the long white table cloth — although the more champagne Dan drank, the less he cared. A few times, when Phil gave him a particularly sweet compliment or an especially sexy look, Dan couldn’t resist brushing his fingertips over Phil’s or letting his toe drag up the inside of Phil’s leg.

In typical Phil fashion, he turned his full attention away from Dan for the first time all night when the dessert menus came, reading over the options with impressively deep intense concentration. Dan didn’t mind — he knew he couldn’t compete with sweet food, but he also knew dessert would come and go, and Phil would be his again.

“Dan!” Phil exclaimed, pointing to the very first item on the menu. “Look, they’ve made cake out of cheese! That shouldn’t get to count as a dessert!”

Dan giggled, his eyes still trained on Phil. “You know, not everyone has the same weird aversion to cheese as you, Philly.”

Phil didn’t respond, too engrossed in the list. “Oooo, look, they have profiteroles and — ew!” Head shooting back up, Phil gave Dan a genuinely horrified expression. His voice was just a hair too loud for inside, especially for the posh and intimate restaurant, but it was fine. “Who orders a cheese plate for dessert!?”

Fuck, Dan was so soft for this boy, this boy who had such bullheaded opinions over what counted as dessert, but was entirely open-minded about anything bigger. “What can I say, the world is full of zanies and fools.”

“Who don’t believe in sensible rules?” Phil quipped back with his brows raised knowingly, not quite singing, but also not exactly just talking either.

“Exactly,” Dan agreed with a nod, letting his eyes linger for just a second before finally flitting down to read his own dessert menu. There was an undefined sappy thought beating at the edge of Dan’s mind, something about how Phil felt like the fairytale impossible thing that happened to him, but he shoved it aside — that was too much even for his champagne-addled heart.

Scanning his menu, Dan’s gaze caught on one of the desserts — not because of the ingredients, but because of the suggestive name.

“I reckon I’ll order the Cherry Explosion,” Dan said, voice low as he looked up at Phil through his darker-than-usual eyelashes. “Hopefully it’ll be a preview of what’s to come later tonight.”

Phil held his gaze for a long second, a slow smirk spreading across his face and a playful twinkle in his eye. “You know,” he started slowly, leaning forward. Beneath the table, a warm hand suddenly landed on Dan’s thigh, fingertips dipping between his legs to rub along the inseam of Dan’s trousers. “I’m not normally a big fan of cherries, but if that’s what gets you there, I can get used to it.”

Dan’s jaw dropped open — both at Phil’s words and at the way his hand was slowly creeping higher and higher up Dan’s leg.

“I don’t — I’m not —” Dan stuttered, trying to defend why he had cherry lube at home, but there wasn’t a restaurant appropriate way to say that he got used to keeping it on hand in hopes that it would entice his ex-boyfriend to eat him out. “I don’t love the taste that much!” Dan finally managed.

Phil’s hand froze on Dan’s leg, his brows shooting up and a knowing smile growing on his lips. “So the flavor isn’t for your benefit, hmm?”

Shrugging, Dan did his best to keep his face neutral and voice steady — but the heat on his cheeks and his quickened breath told him he wasn’t doing a great job of either. “A lad can hope…” Dan muttered weakly.

The knowing smile on Phil’s lips turned positively lewd, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip, his eyes darkening with lust. “Hope for what, Daniel?” Phil challenged.

Dan swallowed thickly, squirming beneath Phil’s intense gaze. He fiddled with the edge of his menu, resisting the simultaneous urges to knock Phil’s hand off his leg so he could think straight and pull Phil’s hand a few centimeters higher to where Dan really wanted it. “You know… something besides just… fingers,” Dan murmured, dropping his eyes to the table.

“I think most people don’t need flavors for a simple blowjob,” Phil pointed out, a smug edge to his voice.

“Philllll,” Dan whined, his face growing impossibly redder. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he grumbled into his flute of champagne, refusing to look Phil in the eye.

“Look at me, babe,” Phil demanded softly. Head still bowed, Dan shifted his eyes to look up at Phil, whose fingers resumed their teasing caress along Dan’s inner thigh. “And tell me what you meant.”

“I didn’t mean there,” Dan whined, praying Phil wouldn’t actually make him confess that he liked being eaten out in the middle of a fancy New York restaurant. That’d he’d settle for the blatant implication.

Phil looked like he might push it, but Dan was saved by the timely appearance of their waiter, back to take their dessert order.

Without taking his eyes off Dan, Phil ordered, his voice returning to its normal volume, a hint of huskiness still laced in. “I’ll have the profiterole, please, and he’ll have the cherry explosion.”

Pointedly, Phil squeezed Dan’s thigh, and Dan felt like he was on the verge of cracking, on the verge of begging Phil to dine and dash, to skip the club, to go back to their hotel — or fuck it, get a room in this one — and fuck him already. The subtle way Phil took charge, the way he challenged Dan in ways none of his past partners ever had, the way he made Dan feel so bloody taken care of — fuck, it was driving Dan insane.

“Bloody hell, Phil. You’re gonna kill me.”

*****************

“We’re here, babe, you have to get out of the car,” Phil insisted with a giggle. He was standing on the curb, holding the car door open and offering Dan his hand.

“I caaaan’t,” Dan whined, his words slurring together thanks to the full bottle of champagne he’d drank at dinner. He petulantly crossed his arms and stayed firmly planted in his seat.

“This nice man has’ta go pick up his next people, though,” Phil pointed out, flashing an apologetic glance towards the front of the car.

“But Phil, if I get out, then e’ryone’ll see,” Dan grumbled. Phil’s eyes followed Dan’s gesture towards his lap, a saucy smirk quickly pulling at his lips.

Dan’d been half-hard since they’d ordered dessert, and his trousers were still pulling tightly across his crotch, a telling tent forming in the center. Phil had been entirely unhelpful during the ride to the club, alternating between teasing Dan about how easily excitable he was and letting his hand wander up and down Dan’s thigh, not giving him the chance to calm down. They’d both had too much champagne to be discreet about it, and Dan hoped the driver wasn’t too scarred — he hadn’t said anything to reprimand them, at least.

“It’s dark out, no one’ll notice,” Phil argued, threading his hand through Dan’s and tugging gently. The awkward reach across the backseat was enough to unsteady Phil, and he braced himself on the doorframe, wobbling just a bit. “C’mon, as soon as we’re inside, you can get us a seat on the sofas and I’ll get us drinks, okay?”

Dan peered around Phil and saw that there wasn’t a line for the club. Maybe they were early — this was New York after all — or maybe this place really was as fancy as Phil had insinuated. Regardless of the reason, that meant Dan would have to interact with minimal people before he could sit down again. Plus, maybe a few minutes away from Phil would help Dan cool down. Lord knew he needed it.

“Here,” Phil let go of Dan’s hand and shrugged out of his denim jacket, offering it to Dan. “You can hold this in front of you in you want.”

“You’ll be cold, though,” Dan said guiltily.

“Not for long if you hurry up and c’mon!” Phil smiled widely, his tongue peeking out more than usual, and shook the jacket at Dan.

Giving in with a disgruntled grumble, Dan gratefully took Phil’s jacket as he climbed out of the uber, only stumbling a little, which he thought was probably a win given that he was definitely both tipsy and turned on. Dan tried to casually sling the jacket over his arm, aiming for a good boyfriend carrying his partner’s coat vibe, and not horny twenty-something hard because of some light pawing.

Phil’s hand landed on Dan’s lower back, guiding Dan towards the entrance. He dropped his hand as they got close, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

He started rifling through, for what Dan wasn’t sure, but the brown-haired bouncer suddenly smiled widely, seeming to recognize Phil, and told him not to worry about it.

Shit — the bouncer! Dan’s drunken and infatuated mind had forgotten that the only reason Phil knew about this place was because he’d fucked the bouncer. Or maybe the bouncer had fucked him. At this point, Dan honestly didn’t know which was worse to think about.

“Well, hey there Phil,” the bouncer greeted, his gaze blatantly raking up and down Phil’s form. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Hi, Oliver,” Phil greeted politely, smiling but keeping his eyes fixed on the other boy’s face. Dan couldn’t help but size up this lad who had slept with Phil; he had chocolate brown hair, curls, and deep eyes — just like Dan. In many ways, looking at this guy was like looking in a warped mirror.

Except for in one very important way.

This guy was built in a way Dan never had been, nor would ever be. His biceps were literally bulging against his sleeves, and Dan could see the sharp outline of defined pectoral muscles under the thin material covering his shirt. Jesus, it was March! Shouldn’t this guy be wearing a jacket or something? Not showing his muscles off to the world?

And rubbing them in Phil’s new boyfriend’s face?

Well aware that he was probably glowering, Dan tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Oliver telling Phil he looked good tonight.

“I’ll be off at one if you’re free tonight,” the bouncer said as he brushed his hand over Phil’s forearm and offered him a saucy wink. Goddamn, Dan was well familiar with that move, and he wasn’t particularly enjoying watching some random bloke pull it on his boyfriend.

The bouncer’s gaze finally drifted away from Phil, landing on Dan for the first time. Understanding seemed to register in his eyes and his hand dropped. “Although, I’m now realizing that might not be an option anymore…” he added, trailing off.

“Oh, uh,” Phil stuttered, sounding strangled and surprised. His hand reached out and wrapped around Dan’s waist. “Yeah. I mean, no! Not’n option, sorry. This is my boyfriend, Dan.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” Oliver frowned, disappointed, before offering Dan a cheeky smirk. "You’re lucky. From what I remember your boyfriend sure can ride. He's quite the power bottom, in’it he?"

Dan could feel all the color draining out of his face, could feel how tense his entire body was, could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He was practically shaking — with what, he wasn’t sure. Phil said he’d slept with this guy a year ago. It wasn’t like Dan really had the right to be mad or jealous — they hadn’t even met yet.

But still.

Riding was Dan’s favorite position — he wasn’t keen on imagining Phil doing that with some other guy.

“We’re going in now,” Phil said tersely. “You sure you don’t need a cover?” he added with minimal politeness, cutting in before Dan could say anything. Not that Dan had any idea what he’d say in a moment like this. He reckoned it’d probably start with a choice four letter word, though.

“Nah of course not, it’s always free for you gorgeous,” Oliver replied flirtily, and had the nerve to fucking wink at Phil, even after it became clear Phil was taken. “Feel free to call if you’re ever around again!” His gaze shifted to Dan, dragging over his comparatively lanky body. Dan couldn’t help self consciously adjusting the jacket in front of him, squirming under the lewd scrutiny of this built bouncer. “Or are looking for a third,” Oliver added, this time winking at Dan and deliberately licking his lips.

“He won’t be,” Dan snapped, grabbing Phil’s hand tightly and pulling him into the club as soon as they had permission.

Phil followed willingly, not even attempting to pause and apologize to the guy about Dan’s rude behavior. Not that Dan thought his reaction was unjustified — the asshole had ignored Dan, hit on his boyfriend, and asked for a threesome, all within a five minute window.

Inside, Dan paused for a fraction of a second to appraise his surroundings. The club was dim in a seductive, anonymous way. There were guys everywhere, far more than the lineless entrance had suggested. A long bar lined the back wall, and sofas and low tables created narrow aisles, leaving no room for a dance floor — something that was both surprising and disappointing. Dancing would have been an easy way for Dan to release some of his pent up emotions.

Scanning the room for alternate options, Dan’s eyes caught on a deserted hallway. He pulled Phil down it, not stopping until they were passed the glowing coat check window and as far from the crowd as they could be. Dan’s grip was probably still a little too tight on Phil’s hand, but Phil didn’t complain and didn’t question.

As soon as Dan thought they were alone enough, he spun around on his heel, grabbing Phil by the waist and crowding him up against the wall in one smooth motion. Phil’s jacket fell carelessly from Dan’s grip to the floor as Dan planted his feet on either side of Phil’s, his chest and hips pressed in close.

The position left Phil pinned to the wall, and given the unspoken dynamic that they were both exploring, Dan half expected Phil to flip their positions, to switch places so that Phil was the one pinning Dan to the wall.

Much to Dan’s satisfaction, however, Phil’s only movement was to loop his arms around Dan and pull him closer, hands splayed on Dan’s lower back. That prick outside had gotten under Dan’s skin, and he needed to remind himself that Phil wasn’t with that arse. Dan needed to remember that after months of pining and lusting and yearning, Phil was finally with him and no one else.

“Mine,” Dan growled as he surged forward and captured Phil’s lips with his own. Phil chuckled softly into the kiss, his chest rumbling against Dan’s. Dan could feel Phil’s fingers tracing across his back, could feel Phil’s lips quirking up into a smile. The whole thing reeked of fond and cute, but Dan didn’t want fond and cute right now.

He wanted passionate and possessive.

So Dan didn’t pause, didn’t pull back to let Phil laugh. If anything, he kissed harder; his lips moved urgently against Phil’s and his hands slipped up from Phil’s hips, desperately running over any part of Phil’s chest he could reach without having to step back.

Phil’s lips parted, and Dan didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue in, roughly licking the roof of Phil’s mouth. Not quite battling for dominance, but definitely not letting Dan take complete charge of the kiss either, Phil massaged Dan’s tongue with his own, his hands sliding down to firmly grab Dan’s arse.

The dark hallway, the anonymous club, the foreign city — they all felt like a shelter from the real world, and Dan let himself get lost in kissing and touching and groping. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the red-hot jealousy coursing through his veins, but Dan didn’t even really care if someone noticed them. Hell, he almost hoped that asshat of a bouncer decided to go on a loo break and saw the way Dan had Phil pushed up against the wall, the way Dan had his tongue down Phil’s throat.

Saw that Phil was Dan’s.

When kissing Phil became too much for Dan’s poor lungs to handle, he pulled back roughly only to immediately latch his lips onto Phil’s neck. Needing to feel Phil in every way he could, Dan rocked his hips forward, grinding their crotches together with a force that made them both groan.

“Mine,” Dan grumbled again, the word vibrating against Phil’s pulse point and pulling a deep moan out of him. He nipped at Phil’s neck, just hard enough for Phil to hiss and tighten his grip on Dan’s arse, his fingers deliciously digging into Dan’s cheeks. “Mine, mine, mine,” Dan repeated before licking over the red spot on Phil’s neck and sucking harshly.

“Of course,” Phil replied, his voice surprisingly full of conviction given how ragged his breath was growing. “All yours, baby.”

Dan slid his hands down Phil’s side, rucking his shirt up and grabbing at the soft, bare skin of Phil’s hips. “I don’t wanna share you with anyone,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s neck as his lips kissed and bit and sucked their way up to the sensitive spot beneath Phil’s ear.

“Good,” Phil huffed, this time his voice lower and more affected. One hand left Dan’s arse to tangle in his curls, pulling back forcefully until their gazes met. “Don’t wanna share you, either.”

Dan moaned, probably far too loudly for the coat check hallway of some club, but he couldn’t help it. He’d always preferred monogamy — for a lot of reasons. Something about monogamy with Phil, though. Fuck, it was so damn hot that Dan found himself getting even more riled up. And, sure, maybe it wasn’t an idea that would make many people horny, but it was turning Dan on — he literally didn’t think Phil could say anything sexier.

Hands groping higher up under Phil’s shirt, Dan crashed their lips together again, unable to resist the urge to grind their hips together again. His involuntary moan was drowned out by a loud wolf-whistle.

“Get some, sexy!” A deep, male voice called out, making Dan’s wandering hands come to an abrupt halt on Phil’s ribs and his breath catch in his throat.

“Fuck,” Dan muttered, tearing away from Phil’s lips and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Dan could feel his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment, could feel Phil’s husky laughter as his head tipped back and thunked against the wall.

Dan wasn’t concerned about the whistling stranger recognizing them, not in the dark shadows of a dim hallway in a fancy club. He was, however, mortified — and unexpectedly a little turned on — at being caught feverishly making out with someone in public, even if it was his boyfriend.

Phil tugged lightly on Dan’s hair, this time lacking the command from earlier, and guided Dan to look at him.

“Drinks?” Phil proposed, his voice ragged in a way that made Dan radiate with satisfaction.

“Yeah,” Dan panted in agreement. “That didn’t help my problem at all, though,” he added quietly. Rocking his hips against Phil’s, Dan let Phil feel the full hardness of his cock. Through their trousers, Dan could tell that Phil’s cock was swollen too, at least halfway, and the friction was absolutely heavenly. Dan had to bite back another moan at the relief that Phil’s hips gave.

“Grab my coat and go find us a sofa. I’ll get us drinks.” Phil’s thumb dragged back and forth, back and forth across Dan’s hip, rendering him speechless and incapable of countering with any other plan, even if a part of him did still want to at least try to pay for something tonight.

“Alright,” Dan mumbled, leaning forward to press his lips to Phil’s one more time before pulling back entirely. Bending down, Dan scooped Phil’s jacket up off the floor and slung it over his arm and in front of his crotch in what he hoped was a casual manner.

Dan let Phil lead the way down the hallway, hovering behind him and taking advantage of the extra coverage while he could. When they reached the main room, Phil gave Dan’s free hand a quick squeeze before they parted ways, Phil bee-lining for the back bar and Dan veering right to find some open seats near the edge of the room.

After a minute of winding, Dan found an empty sofa in a corner of the club. The music was quieter over here, no longer so loud that talking would be impossible. He collapsed onto the cushions and spread Phil’s jacket across his lap. The back of the sofa was low, only coming up to his mid-back — probably to stop people from getting too relaxed and not partaking in the whole club thing. Slouching down so his shoulders were supported, Dan pulled his phone out of his pocket to tell Phil where he was.

The first thing he noticed was the time — almost exactly half past eleven. His interview with Jimmy Fallon would be airing any minute now.

The second thing he noticed was about half a dozen text messages from Louise.

Before he opened her messages, Dan shot Phil a quick text, trying to describe the dark corner he was sat in. Switching over to his conversation with Louise, Dan skimmed over her messages. She’d asked how the recording had gone, what his plans were for the evening, cheekily teased that she hoped Dan wasn’t responding because he was getting laid, and promised to tweet about the show for him — bless her, she really was the best friend and manager he could hope for.

Quickly, Dan typed a quick message back, ignoring most of what she’d said and just updating her on things more generally.

Dan [11:28PM]: taping was good i’m happy with it. i’m sure you’ll see soon. phil and i are out. i’ll ring tomorrow xx

Dan was just hitting send when Phil appeared above him. He shuffled back up into a proper sitting position, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Cocking an eyebrow at Dan’s movement, Phil passed Dan a lowball of something dark and on ice.

“Just Louise,” Dan said as an answer to Phil’s silent question and took a sip of his drink. It was some kind of whiskey, something much more bitter than whatever the blue concoction Phil was holding probably was. Dan was grateful that Phil seemed to remember his drink preferences, even though they’d only ordered cocktails together a small handful of times. He didn’t think he could stomach drinking something as colorful and sugary as Phil’s. “Thanks,” Dan said with a smile and a tip of his glass in Phil’s direction.

“You’re welcome,” Phil replied, twisting slightly to face Dan as his free arm came to rest on the back of the sofa behind him. “Sorry about that, by the way.” Phil pointedly nodded his head back towards the door. “I didn’t think he’d hit on me, especially not with you there. Hell, I didn’t even know if he’d be working.”

Dan shrugged, twisting slightly so that he was facing more towards Phil than the rest of the room. “It’s’not your fault,” Dan said genuinely. “Although, you promised me he wasn’t cuter than me.” Petulantly, Dan huffed and sent a glare in the direction of the entrance.

“And?” Phil chuckled, his hand slipping from the sofa, his fingers grazing along Dan’s ribcage. Something about the way Phil was so casually sprawling across the sofa, the sheer manliness of the position, combined with the gentle drag of his fingers on Dan’s side was fucking attractive. “Tha’bloke is nowhere near as stunning as you,” Phil continued, his voice low and sincere.

Dan stuck his bottom lip out, pouting up at Phil. “Are y’kidding?” Dan whined. “He looked like me, but with actual muscles an’ not limp noodle arms.”

Phil’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His eyes dragged over Dan, lingering on his arms, his chest. Dan squirmed under Phil’s intense gaze, and he was certain his cheeks were growing red. He slouched down again; Phil was taller than him now, and Dan had to tip his head up to look at him. From this angle, Dan had a perfect view of the red marks blossoming on Phil’s neck, and he felt pride swell deep in his stomach.

“I’ll admit I have a bit of a thing for dark hair an’ pretty eyes,” Phil conceded, a small smirk on his face and humor lacing his voice. Elbow still resting on the back of the sofa, Phil bent his arm so he could run his hand through Dan’s hair, petting sweetly. Dan couldn’t resist just slightly leaning his head back into the touch, silently encouraging Phil to continue his ministrations. Jesus christ, he loved his hair being played with, both in and out of the bedroom. “But the muscles don’t really do anything for me.” Phil shrugged casually, his eyes dropping from Dan’s again to salaciously rake over his body.

“In fact,” Phil continued, his voice suddenly lower, huskier. Sexier. “I prefer that you’re a li’le more narrow ‘n me.” The hand in Dan’s hair slid down. Phil’s fingers lightly traced down the side of Dan’s neck, making Dan’s skin feel on fire and his breath catch in his throat. Phil scooched a little more towards Dan, and the close proximity made Dan have to look up even more. “I like being able’ta wrap you up in my arms.”

Arm wrapped around Dan’s shoulder, Phil pulled him in so that Dan’s shoulder was leaning against Phil’s chest, making Dan feel tiny — and not in the bad way he had a minute ago, when he’d been comparing himself to the fit bouncer out front.

This time, Dan was less subtle about the way he settled into Phil’s embrace. He brought the leg closest to Phil up, and let his knee fall into Phil’s lap. Phil seemed to welcome the new position, his other hand shifting to rest his drink on Dan’s thigh.

In sync, they both took a sip of their cocktails, and Dan found himself completely distracted from the bitter taste as he stared heatedly into Phil’s eyes. Pointedly, Dan flicked his gaze down to Phil’s glass with a challenging spark in his eye, and tipped his own drink back further. It wasn’t until the liquid was half gone that Dan stopped. With a small smirk, Phil followed Dan’s lead, lifting his glass higher and chugging.

Dan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Phil’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and god, he wanted to drag his teeth against it, nip and lick Phil’s neck, add to the marks already there. He wanted to make Phil feel good, wanted to chase the sharpness of the whiskey away with the taste of Phil’s skin.

Overcome with the need to kiss Phil right now, Dan nestled his glass by his hip and tugged on Phil’s wrist. Phil clearly got the hint, his eyes twinkling with mirth and his drink lowering to Dan’s leg.

Pulled together like unstoppable magnets, they both leaned in, their lips meeting with heady passion that was likely too much for a nightclub. Phil tasted fruity and sweet, a perfect contrast to the heavy, bitter flavor of whiskey lingering in Dan’s mouth. Their lips moved against each other, Phil’s tongue almost immediately dragging along Dan’s lower lip, practically demanding entrance. Pliant and desperate for anything Phil would give him, Dan parted his lips and let Phil in. Hot desire rushed through Dan’s veins, his arousal only growing when Phil licked behind his teeth.

Dan let himself be kissed, pushing up, up, up into Phil, chasing the overwhelming feeling of Phil. It was so much, and yet not enough.

A sharp tug of Dan’s hair forced him to tip his head back further — and jesus fuck, that was hot. The new angle gave Phil access to Dan’s neck, and his lips worked their way down from Dan’s mouth to his pulse point. Beneath Phil’s mouth, Dan could feel his blood rushing, his heart pounding, and he never wanted this moment to end. The soft scrape of Phil’s teeth on his skin drew a loud moan out of Dan and caused his muscles to go slack.

Wet, cold liquid splashed onto Dan’s thigh, and he tore himself away from Phil’s lips. He looked down, finding his glass tipped precariously to the side. Oops.

Now that their drinks were emptier and the music was louder, any hope of carrying on a proper conversation had slipped away. That was fine — they’d talked plenty at dinner, and there’d be plenty of time for talking later.

Sitting upright, Dan drained the last sips of his whiskey, motioning for Phil to do the same. There were only a few gulps left in Phil’s, and he obediently knocked it back. As soon as the drink was empty, Dan snatched the glass out of Phil’s hand and hurriedly put them both on the table. His movements were careless and clumsy, resulting in one of the glasses almost immediately tipping over and ice spilling out.

Dan ignored the mess — he didn’t particularly care about anything other than Phil right now. Dan swooped back in and pressed his lips to Phil’s, his leg shifting so that he was nearly straddling Phil. Warm, firm hands gripped Dan’s hips, lifting and pulling until Dan was fully in Phil’s lap.

“Fuck,” Dan moaned against Phil’s lips, painfully turned on by the way Phil was fucking manhandling him. Dan wanted more, needed to be closer, so he tangled his hands in Phil’s quiff, bracing his elbows against Phil’s shoulders so that he could lean up and kiss Phil harder. Phil’s hands crept under Dan’s tight jumper, and his nails dug into Dan’s waist, making Dan hyper aware of every single one of Phil’s fingers.

Phil’s touch on Dan’s bare sides was electrifying, and a surge of pleasure shot up Dan’s spine. Needing to do something with the heat that was radiating from every inch of his body, Dan found himself grinding his hips down into Phil’s.

“Yeah, baby,” Phil slurred, pulling roughly and guiding Dan to rock his hips forward again. Phil felt so fucking good beneath Dan, solid, warm, and — jesus — growing hard.

Dan’s cock had calmed down some while Phil had fetched their drinks, but the friction of Phil’s hips, the tease of Phil’s hard on, made it swell in interest again.

Tearing his lips away from Phil’s, Dan latched onto Phil’s neck and sucked hard, hard enough to surely leave another mark. Those could be tomorrow’s problem to worry about. Dan worked his way higher, leaving a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses up Phil’s neck. Phil’s fingers were digging into Dan’s hips, and it was fucking intoxicating — more so than the champagne and whiskey and whatever else they were going to drink could ever be.

“You —” Phil started, his words cut off by a loud gasp as Dan sucked on what must have been a particularly sensitive spot — Dan made a mental note, because he definitely wanted to make Phil do that again. “You look s’good like this,” Phil mumbled.

“Phhhh—” Dan moaned, unable to even get Phil’s name out. The compliment felt like a physical wave of pleasure rushing through Dan’s body, making him feel hot all over. Phil was so fucking right about that whole praise thing.

Dan caught the lobe of Phil’s ear in his mouth, letting his teeth graze over it and his tongue dart out to flick it. Pushing up just a hair, Dan slid his hands from Phil’s hair, down his neck, over his shoulders, and down to his chest. Dan couldn't resist bunching Phil’s shirt in his fists, massaging over Phil’s nipples with his thumbs.

“Good, because when we get back to the hotel room,” Dan whispered into Phil’s ear, “I wanna ride you.”

“Fuck,” Phil cursed, his hand rucking Dan’s jumper up high enough that his fingers stroked the bottom of Dan’s ribcage. “Yeah, okay.”

Surprised at how easily Phil had agreed, Dan pulled back to look him in the eyes. “Wait, really? You’re cool with that being how we fuck tonight?”

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan,” Phil mumbled, his hands tracing rough lines up and down the naked skin of Dan’s waist. “You have no idea how sexy you look above me. Trust me, I definitely want to see you like this, filled up with my cock.”

Dan’s cock twitched, and he had to restrain himself from rocking forward again. “Jesus, Phil,” Dan panted, his hands gripping Phil’s shoulders tightly as he tried to hold onto some grain of composure. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“And why’s that?” Phil teased, his thumbs dragging back and forth across Dan’s ribs, the feeling absolutely heavenly. It was somehow hot and tender at the same time, and Dan wanted more more more.

“You know why, you fucking asshole,” Dan grumbled, leaning back down to kiss along Phil’s neck. Dan was beginning to accept that Phil was right, but that didn’t mean he wanted to actually admit it out loud.

“You ‘n your praise kink make this too fucking easy,” Phil murmured, half panting, half chuckling.

“Don’t take ‘vantage of me,” Dan mumbled jokingly into Phil’s neck, lightly nipping at Phil’s shoulder.

Properly laughing this time, Phil slid his hands down to Dan’s hips and used his leverage to push him back. The momentum forced Dan all the way back to Phil’s knees — something Dan was thoroughly disgruntled about. But then one of Phil’s hands left Dan’s waist and thumbed over his cheek, a soft and fond look on his face, and Dan couldn’t help but melt. He might have been horny and hot, but he was so damn enamoured that the tender gesture affected him just as much as the grinding and wandering hands had.

“If we keep down this path, I’m gonna have a hard time keeping m’hands to myself,” Phil teased, a playful smirk toying at his lips. His other hand dipped into Dan’s jeans and stroked the long, prominent bone of his hip, as if to prove his point. Fuck, just Phi’s fingers on his hip was enough to drive Dan fucking mad, he didn’t know how he was going to manage to get through the night and back to their hotel without losing control.

“How ‘bout we dance for a bit?” Phil proposed suddenly. Shocked and unable to process Phil’s suggestion, Dan snapped his head back and stared down at Phil with bleary eyes, blinking slowly. The fuck?

Dancing? Right, okay. Dan could be up for dancing. But...

Dan glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the club, confused. Just like he remembered, there wasn’t exactly room for dancing anywhere. However, Dan noticed that there were several couples that were making out, feeling each other up, grinding hips desperately together.

“Uh, where?” Dan questioned skeptically. From his quick glance around, it seemed like dancing would actually draw more attention to them than snogging in a dark corner.

“Dance floor. Downstairs,” Phil explained, his head nodding toward the opposite corner. Dan followed the direction of Phil’s nod, noticing a dimly lit staircase for the first time. Of course — a lot of clubs separated sitting areas from dancing areas, Dan’s tipsy brain had just been too out of it to process.

“Sounds good,” Dan mumbled in agreement, dipping down to kiss at Phil’s neck one more time before he had to climb out of Phil’s lap. “We should have somethin’ else t’drink first, though. I’m a rubbish dancer,” he chuckled. It wasn’t entirely true, but Phil didn’t have to know that just yet.

The excuse sounded better than I wanna be drunk and free with you. Plus, maybe Dan’s decent dancing would be a pleasant surprise later.

Phil’s hand slipped out from Dan’s shirt, and ran up his chest. “How ‘bout you take our jackets to the coat check an’ I’ll order us something else t’drink, baby?” Phil suggested, his tone not really leaving room for Dan to argue as his hands dipped under Dan’s leather jacket, carefully shrugging it off his shoulders.

Dan’s jacket caught around his biceps, hanging from his arms in the gayest of fashions and he loved it. He wiggled his knees backwards until he was hovering above Phil’s hips and could easily rest his feet on the floor.

“Alright, let’s go then,” Dan agreed, backing off Phil entirely and holding one hand out to help him off the sofa. Dan was excited to dance, it would give him something a little less slutty to do with all his energy. Grabbing Phil’s jacket, Dan nodded once at Phil before heading back down the deserted hallway from earlier — only now it wasn’t as deserted. Dan passed three couples heatedly kissing before he even got to the coat check booth. But then again, surely snogging in public wasn’t that slutty if this many people were doing it.

Smiling at the employee, Dan dropped Phil’s denim jacket onto the small ledge and shrugged out of his own leather one, not bothering to tuck his phone into his pants pocket before he handed it to the guy across the bar. Tonight was about letting go, and the only person who could really need him had Phil’s number now.

Dan took the coat-check number from the worker, tucking it into his back pocket, and made his way back to the bar. Phil was standing at the far end, twisted around and watching for Dan.

And fuck, he looked good. Sometime while Dan had been gone, Phil had loosened up a little bit. The top four buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, and god help Dan because he was pretty sure he was about to come in his fucking pants. Phil looked so goddamn seductive leaning back against the bar like that, his shirt dipping down, his chest peeking out, his forearms taut.

Phil was gorgeous and sexy and so entirely manly — Dan couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t until he was standing directly in front of Phil that Dan realized that there were no cocktails — no, instead there were two double shots in front of Phil, plus a small plate of lime wedges and a salt shaker. Tequila, then.

“Get ov’r here, mister,” Phil demanded, a smile on his face as he made grabby hands for Dan. Fucking hell, it should be illegal for someone to be so sexy and so cute at the same time. Dan could only handle so much, and his cock and his heart were competing for blood at this point. “I ordered us shots.”

“Shots, huh?” Dan teased, one hand coming to rest on the bar on the outside of Phil’s hip. “A simple drink wasn’t good enough for you, then?”

“I figured neither of us could manage a drink an’ dancing a’the same time.” Phil shrugged with a smile, turning back toward the bar and letting his arse grind into Dan’s hips as he pulled their shots closer to them.

Fuck. Phil really knew how to play Dan.

“Come here,” Phil murmured as he twisted back around, his hands landing on Dan’s hips. In one smooth movement, Phil spun them around and switched their positions. Before Dan could fully process the change, his waist was pressing into the bar and Phil’s crotch was digging into his arse. “Take a shot with me.”

Phil’s voice was deep and gruff, and the scratchiness of it made Dan’s stomach flip over and over in desire. He bloody adored how Phil was taking care of him tonight, somehow perfectly in charge of all of Dan’s needs, intuitively aware of what Dan would find the sexiest and most fun at any given moment.

Dan reached for a tequila shot with one hand, his other grabbing a lime. Realizing his mistake — it was salt, tequila, lime, after all — Dan dropped his lime in favor of reaching for the salt shaker. Phil beat him to it, though, licking a long stripe up his own hand and shaking two small mounds of salt along the line.

“Here,” Phil murmured into Dan’s ear, bringing his hand level with Dan’s mouth.

Not hesitating to check their surroundings or respond, Dan surged forward and sucked the salt off Phil’s hand. Phil moved quickly, his head dipping forward and licking his hand at the same time as Dan, their cheeks pressing together. Simultaneously, they both lifted their shots to their mouths, tipping the tequila down their throat. Behind him, Dan could feel Phil gulp, could feel his neck and his chest and his stomach move as he swallowed the alcohol.

Phil got to the lime first, holding it in front of Dan’s lips. Leaning forward, Dan sucked the lime into his mouth, taking care to drag his lips along Phil’s fingers as well. Soft vibrations rumbled against Dan’s back, and it took his drunken brain a second to realize that they were from Phil moaning.

Phil dropped the lime to the bar and reached for the other wedge, but Dan knocked his hand out of the way. It was his turn.

Grabbing the second wedge, Dan spun around to face Phil. Dan tried his intoxicated best to arrange his face into a seductive look as he held the wedge up to Phil’s mouth and nudged it against his lips. Maybe it was successful, because Dan glanced up at Phil’s eyes and saw that his pupils were wide and dark. He looked hungry, Dan thought, but it wasn’t for the lime.

Regardless, Phil parted his lips and sucked on it, pulling the tips of Dan’s fingers into the wet heat of his mouth, too.

Fucking hell, no wonder Phil had moaned when Dan had done that. Now that Dan’s fingers were in Phil’s mouth, now that Phil’s tongue was licking along his skin, Dan couldn’t help but imagine something else in Phil’s mouth, and — fuck.

Pulling back off the wedge with a loud pop, Phil smirked at Dan, linking their hands together under the bar. “Let’s go dance.”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed, breathless, carelessly dropping the lime back to the plate and letting Phil tug him along. Together, they weaved through the aisles of sofas to the steep staircase leading to the mystery basement.

When they reached the stairs, Phil dropped Dan’s hand, opting to grab the handrail instead. Rightfully so, too. The steps were steep and winding, and Dan was sure that even Sober Him would struggle. Dan followed, holding tight to the railing and sticking close to Phil.

Less than halfway down, the twisting was already fucking with Dan’s drunken head, nearly making him stumble and fall. Luckily, the staircase was narrow and Phil was directly in front of him, so Dan was able to catch himself before he tumbled out of control.

After what seemed like forever, they rounded the last twist and the stairs opened up to a packed dance floor. The music was a million times louder down here, the lights flashing and moving, subtle fog machines trying to make the whole place scream sexy. Everywhere Dan looked, there were men dancing, grinding, kissing. It was the kind of place he hadn’t gotten to indulge in since his late teens, and he was suddenly incredibly eager to embrace the atmosphere.

Stepping around Phil, Dan grabbed Phil by the hand and drug him out to the dance floor. They weaved passed couple after couple until they were packed into the middle of the crowd, disappearing into plain sight thanks to the drunk dancers surrounding them.

Dan spun around to face Phil, alcohol causing the world to blur around the edges. It took a second for Dan’s eyes to focus again, and when they did, he realized that Phil was blatantly checking him out. The way Phil was looking at him, with wide pupils and parted lips, made Dan feel like the sexiest guy in the room — maybe even in all of New York.

“C’mere,” Phil demanded, nearly shouting to be heard over the music. His message was clear though; there was no mistaking what Phil wanted when he grabbed Dan’s hips and pulled him in close. Dan stumbled forward willingly, and he had a feeling he’d walk straight across the threshold to hell if Phil guided him. On instinct, Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck; they were close — so, so close. Their chests were just centimeters apart, their hands spread wide like they were trying to touch as much of each other as they could. Together, they started to move in time to the thumping bass of the music.

Dan giggled, drunk and horny and maybe just a little bit slap-happy.

What? Phil mouthed with furrowed brows and an amused smile.

Dan smiled and stepped closer so he could try to explain; their chests were touching now and Dan could feel Phil dancing. Dan leaned in so that he could yell directly into Phil’s ear. “I feel like I’m back at my year eight dance.” Dan tugged on the hair at the nape of Phil’s neck and pointedly wiggled his hips, hoping Phil would telepathically understand Dan’s logic.

Phil laughed, loud and shameless, with his tongue poking out and his eyes nearly closed. He looked happy and gorgeous and Dan’s heart was beating in a way that he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the minute amount of physical exercise.

Smile still plastered on his face, Phil pulled Dan impossibly closer, causing their hips to crash together, and god Dan loved how their hips felt when they were pressed together. He could have sworn he could feel the outline of Phil’s cock, and it only made him more excited for later.

“Only if you got kicked out,” Phil teased, his hands dropping down to Dan’s arse and squeezing, as if to prove his point. And yeah, that move was definitely forbidden back in year eight. Maybe it was a good thing too, because thirteen-year-old Dan might’ve fucking cum in his pants if someone did that to him then. Fucking hell, twenty-three-year-old Dan was on the verge of doing so, maybe the club should be a little more regulated.

Maybe a touch too late, Dan vehemently shook his head — grinding at dances wasn’t even remotely his life at thirteen. At thirteen, Dan was sexually confused and his only quality friendship was Louise. (Although, four years later, Dan was much less confused and was actively looking for just about anyone who would pop his cherry.)

Now, though, Dan was entirely comfortable with his sexual preferences, even if he did waiver between labels from time to time. At the very least, Dan could say with complete confidence that he was fucking attracted to the man in front of him, and he was fucking hot for the fact that they were surrounded by other gay couples.

And now that Phil’s hands were on his arse, pulling him closer so that their hips, their cocks, rubbed together, Dan couldn’t think about anything else.

So Dan let go. He let the champagne and the whiskey and the tequila take over, let his inhibitions fade away. The music was so loud that Dan could feel it in his soul, the remixed-nineties music just familiar enough to make Dan feel like he knew what he was doing, the added beats just fast enough to make him feel sexy. Hands still tangled around Phil’s neck, Dan pushed his hips forward and rocked them against Phi’s.

His hips moved on their own accord, swaying and grinding and moving in time with the music. Phil moved with him, their crotches rubbing together over and over as remixed versions of TLC, Christina Aguilera, and Destiny’s Child pulsed around them. It was hot, god it was hot. The dance floor was so packed, so anonymous, and Dan couldn’t hold back from closing the fucking microscopic amount of distance between them, kissing Phil over and over again as the night grew later and later.

At some point, Phil twisted Dan around. It came almost out of nowhere — one minute they were grinding together, and the next, Phil was manhandling Dan, shifting their positions so that Phil’s semi-hard cock was rubbing against Dan’s arse, and fucking hell that was hot. Some bassed-up version of Baby Got Back was playing, so loud that the song was almost all-consuming. The sober recesses of Dan’s mind tried to remind him of that scene from Friends, the one where Ross and Rachel sang this to their infant and offended each other, but the drunk and horny parts of Dan were far too focused on the way Phil was grinding into his arse, the way Phil’s hands were sliding further and further down his hips, to properly process anything about the music. Phil rubbed his hands over and over the front of Dan’s hips, pulling him closer and grazing his cock with every pass. Moaning, Dan let his head fall back onto Phil’s shoulder, and Phil’s neck was right there, so of course Dan mouthed along it. The music was too loud to hear much of anything over it, but Dan could feel Phil’s throat vibrate with a moan, could feel Phil’s fingers dig into his hips the slightest bit harder. They were touching everywhere, flushed together from head to toe and Phil felt like Dan’s whole world tonight.

Dan rocked his hips back, soaking up the heady sensation of Phil’s cock rubbing against him, feeling more and more intoxicated off lust than alcohol by the second. Trying not to overthink it, Dan reached behind himself and wrapped his arm around Phil’s neck, his fingers tangling in the short hair at the back of Phil’s head.

The breath was nearly knocked out of Dan when Phil pushed up Dan’s short shirtsleeve with his mouth, and kissed along his inner bicep as he drug his lips up Dan’s arm. Fucking hell, Dan was definitely about to combust and cum on the spot if Phil kept doing that. Phil’s lips latched onto Dan’s arm, sucking and surely leaving a mark and fuck Dan had never been so glad to have worn a short sleeve shirt as he was right now.

Once again, the music shifted, and the iconic first notes of Britney rung out. Within seconds, Dan recognized the song, and given how Phil’s fingers tightened on his hips, he reckoned Phil did, too. And god, he wanted to look at Phil while they danced to this.

Dan tried to twist around, and Phil’s grip loosened just enough to let him move, his fingers dragging deliciously over Dan’s skin as he turned. They readjusted quickly, Dan’s arms wrapping around Phil’s neck and Phil’s hands lowering to grope Dan’s arse.

“Baby, can’t you see,” Dan murmured huskily into Phil’s ear, his tongue darting out to lick Phil’s earlobe. Slowly, sensually, Dan slipped his arms from Phil’s neck and dragged his hands across Phil’s chest. He moved slowly, his fingernails raking across Phil’s shirt, pausing to rub at Phil’s nipples.

“Jesus, babe,” Phil mumbled, the words barely more than a strangled groan. The fingers on Dan’s arse tightened, forcefully pulling until Dan’s hips were grinding against Phil’s. Their cocks rubbed together, and Dan rocked his hips again, desperate to feel and feel and feel.

Phil was half hard, and so was Dan, and the friction was amazing. Pleasure shot through Dan, his cock twitching and a quiet moan tumbling from his lips. Dan couldn’t resist tangling his fingers in Phil’s hair, dragging him just the slightest bit closer, not that there was really much distance left between them.

The music continued to pound around them, and Dan continued to rock his hips forward in time with the beat. He wanted so much, and the grinding was just a small tease. Through the fabric, Dan could feel Phil growing harder and harder, making Dan want more. Heat and desire and lust were building in the pit of Dan’s stomach, and he just fucking wanted.

He wanted to taste Phil’s cock in his mouth. He wanted to feel Phil’s bare cock throbbing against his own. He wanted to be stretched around Phil, full and satisfied.

This song — this song out of all the late-nineties and early-two-thousands songs — fucking got to Dan. And he didn’t think it was fully his fault, it wasn’t like he had a thing for it three months ago. But then, one of the earliest videos he’d watched on AmazingPhil was Phil dancing half naked to this song — there was really no coming back from that.

Dan kissed up Phil’s neck, coming to a stop just a short centimeter from Phil’s ear. “Ya know,” he started huskily. He could feel Phil’s fingers dig into his arse, could see how Phil’s breath hitched. Mischievously, Dan continued, “I jacked off to this video.”

The effect was immediate — Phil froze and inhaled so sharply that Dan could actually hear the gasp over the music. For a second, the world was frozen; it was just Dan staring at Phil, a smug smirk on his face, and Phil staring back, shocked and wide-eyed.

And then Phil’s lips crashed onto Dan’s, moving insistently, hotly, and the world was moving again.

The kiss was merciless, Phil’s tongue immediately licking at Dan’s lips and demanding entrance — not that Dan was complaining. He opened his mouth and let Phil in, let Phil ravage him. Phil’s hands disappeared from Dan’s arse, only to land on his cheeks, firmly holding his head in place so Phil could kiss him harder.

There was no air in Dan’s lungs, and he didn’t give a single fuck. The shortness of breath only made everything hotter, and jesus that was a kink Dan didn’t think he had, but then again, he might find any kink hot if it was with Phil. Phil was so in control, so hungry, so domineering, and Dan couldn’t get enough of it.

Phil pulled back without warning, leaving Dan a panting mess. They were so, so close, and Phil’s eyes were nothing but black pupils. He looked ready to fucking devour Dan, and Dan really hadn’t expected this strong of a response but he was living for it. It was making him feel wanted and sexy.

“We’re going,” Phil snapped, his hands roughly unwinding Dan’s arms from his neck. “Right. Fucking. Now.”

Phil’s words were sharp, making it clear that this wasn’t a request. He sounded like he was on the verge of losing control, looked like he might shove Dan against the nearest wall, and take him right then and there.

Their fingers tangled together and Phil spun around, dragging Dan behind him as he pushed his way through the dancing crowd. It was a good thing Phil was holding Dan so tightly, because he was moving so fast that Dan might have gotten lost if their hands got separated.

Phil didn’t stop moving until they’d made it up the stairs, all the way past the sofas and down the hallway. They came to an abrupt halt in front of the coat check window and — shit, right. Their jackets.

Dan dug through his pockets, searching for the tiny ticket that he’d shoved somewhere. Phil’s heavy stare wasn’t helping, only making him feel more flustered and rushed and desperate to get the fuck out of there already.

“Dan,” Phil said, a hint of reprimand and urgency in his voice that spurred Dan to move faster. His fingers finally closed around the small slip, and he wrangled it out, holding it up triumphantly. Phil ripped the ticket out of Dan’s hand, his only response a single approving nod. Phil slammed it down on the counter, his eyes never once drifting from Dan’s.

The coat check worker chuckled — it was probably perfectly clear what was going on. But even that wasn’t enough to drag Phil’s eyes away from Dan. Dan swallowed thickly, his mouth dry, as he held Phil’s gaze. He couldn’t fucking think with Phil looking at him like that. Struck dumb, Dan licked his lips as he waited to see what would happen next.

Phil’s grip was still tight, and he tugged on Dan’s hand. Drunk and caught off guard, Dan stumbled forward, colliding with Phil.

“You’re so sexy,” Phil whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard. “I can’t wait t’fuck you.”

Dan whimpered, fucking whimpered. Phil was so much filthier than his new videos made him seem, he was dirty in all the right ways. Although, looking back, Dan could see some of this Phil in the much younger Phil that had filmed the Toxic video.

The rustling of their jackets hitting the counter jolted Dan and Phil out of their bubble. Both of their heads snapped to face the window, and Dan could tell his cheeks were probably flushed red. He’d forgotten that there was someone else nearby, that someone else was probably paying proper attention to them.

Phil reached out to pull the bundle of clothes closer, clearly avoiding looking at the coat check person. “Put this on s’we can leave,” Phil ordered, shoving Dan’s leather jacket into his chest.

Dan didn’t need telling twice; he sprung into action and clumsily shrugged into his jacket, his hands getting caught several times. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the alcohol or lust, but he didn’t care.

Phil slapped a few bills on the counter and grabbed his own coat.

“Thanks boys,” the clerk said cheerfully. “Have a good night! Don’t forget protection!”

Oh god. Dan felt his cheeks grow hot. He didn’t mind people noticing him and Phil were itching to fuck, but christ, he really didn’t expect a random stranger to actually say it.

Phil grumbled something in response, something Dan didn’t quite hear or process, and guided Dan back down the hallway, one hand firmly pressed against Dan’s lower back.

Hot breath washed over Dan’s ear, and he belatedly realized that Phil was close. “I really don’t wanna use a condom,” Phil muttered into his ear. Dan’s breath hitched, and Phil’s fingers curled around to his sides, not giving him a chance to recover before continuing. “Wanna feel you ‘n fill you up.”

“Fuck,” Dan huffed, his mind not able to think about anything other than Phil’s bare cock pressed into him, pumping cum deep into his arse. “Yeah, please. ‘M clean.”

“Good,” Phil said with a note of finality. He opened the club door and ushered Dan through it. Dan stopped just outside the entrance, hovering and waiting for direction from Phil. Phil stood close, head bowed as he tapped on his phone. Dan looked around them, realizing that there was a line now, and the asshole bouncer from earlier was gone. Must have been after one, then.

“Ugh,” Phil groaned. “There’s a twen’y minute wait for’n uber.”

God that was so much longer than Dan wanted to wait. Brows furrowed, Dan glanced up at the street sign.

“We’re only like seven blocks from the hotel, w’can walk faster,” Dan pointed out.

“How’dya know that?” Phil asked, head snapping up, looking surprised.

Dan pointed to the numbered street sign. “Grid system. Let’s go,” Dan suggested, nodding his head in the right direction.

“Perfect,” Phil mumbled. He grabbed Dan’s hand and started walking. His pace wasn’t quite as fast as earlier, something Dan was rather grateful for. He didn’t think he could walk that quickly for seven blocks and not be too out of breath for sex.

The first block, Phil was still walking faster than normal, though. It wasn’t until they reached the first crosswalk and were forced to stop that they both breathed. The break calmed some of the out-of-control desire coursing through Dan’s veins, dulling it down to a pulsing lust. Dan turned to look at Phil, his eyes surely full of fond desire, a smile definitely pulling at his lips.

Phil bounced on his toes for a second, his movements slowing down when the light didn’t immediately change. Phil glanced at Dan, his heady expression melting slightly into something a bit softer, a bit more gentle. The passion and want were still there, but now there was something else, something sweeter, there too.

Now that they were out of the club, free from the throbbing bass of the music and away from the grinding couples, Dan’s mind felt a little clearer. It was chilly out, not quite cold but definitely cool enough that Dan felt justified leaning into Phil a bit, resting his head on Phil’s shoulder and sticking close. Phil smiled down at him fondly as Dan looked up at him through his lashes. The world around seemed to fade away, and there were butterflies fluttering in Dan’s stomach and god how was Phil so sexy and dominate and sweet all in the span of five minutes, this had to be illegal.

Dan’s eyes snapped away when the crosswalk chimed, and suddenly they were walking again. They weren’t the only ones out — if anything, there seemed to be more people on the streets now. As they made their way back to their hotel, they passed club after club, bar after bar, all with lines of drunk twenty-somethings.

Some sober, less reckless part of Dan warned him that all the people meant a higher chance of getting recognized, but he just didn’t care. He wasn’t about to stop and talk to a fan right now. It was Friday night, and the whole city seemed to be intoxicated, and Dan would just have to hope that everyone else was too drunk to notice him.

They came to stop at another intersection, just barely missing the chance to cross. Dan glanced around, taking in the city surrounding them. There was a group of girls nearby, smoking and drinking something out of brown paper bags. There were a few people outside a pizza place, drunkenly eating slices of pizza off white paper plates as they sat on the curb. There was a couple across the way, fighting loudly about something Dan couldn’t make out.

It was late and crowded and everyone was too focused on themselves to take note of anyone else. It was the kind of crowd that made everyone anonymous. The neon city lights were blurry, and made it hard to see the details of anything — although maybe that part was just Dan.

Regardless, he didn't care.

Phil was so close, so warm by Dan’s side and Dan just wanted more.

“Kiss me,” Dan asked, nearly begged, as he looked back at Phil. His voice was high and nearly breathless, so affected that he probably would have been embarrassed by how fucking needy he sounded if the situation had been different. But as it was, this was Phil, Phil who seemed to instinctively understand every single desire Dan had.

Phil smiled at Dan softly, turning so they were face to face. Without hesitation, Phil closed the distance between them, doing as Dan asked. Phil kissed him slowly but thoroughly, his lips moving languidly, his tongue slipping between Dan’s teeth and licking along the roof of his mouth.

“Mmm,” Dan hummed into Phil’s mouth as he wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck, his elbows resting on Phil’s shoulders, wrists crossed behind his head.

Phil’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, but he kept kissing, his arms wrapping around Dan’s waist and pulling him closer.

It was hot — kissing Phil would always be hot — but it was also sweet and maybe even a little romantic. Dan had never kissed someone on the street until Isabella, and in hindsight, everything about those kisses had been for the wrong reasons. This kiss, right now with Phil, wasn’t for pizza eaters or smokers or fighters. This kiss had nothing to do with the audience, and everything to do with the fact that Dan was so fucking head over heels for Phil that Dan couldn’t couldn’t resist kissing him for the two minutes it took for the crosswalk light to change.

At some point, Louise had told him that all of this was so much better when you loved someone, and Dan was realizing how right she was because just kissing had never been this good.

Love.

The word crashed over Dan, suddenly the only thing he could think as he drunkenly kissed his boyfriend in the middle of New York City at two in the morning.

Dan loved Phil.

Dan was one hundred percent, completely and totally in love with the boy kissing him.

Gasping, Dan pulled back from the kiss, his eyes flying open.

“What?” Phil asked breathlessly, a note of urgency in his voice.

“I — nothing.” Dan swallowed thickly, there was no way he could say what he was thinking. Not now, not already. His gaze drifted over Phil’s shoulder and caught on the signal, which was now showing a white walking man. “We can cross now.”

Dan hoped his voice was steady, hoped it wasn’t obvious that his mind was somewhere, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t very subtle. If Phil noticed, though, he didn’t say anything. He just followed Dan into the street, one arm still wrapped around his waist, holding Dan close as they continued walking. Dan leaned into Phil’s side, stumbling slightly and focusing entirely too much on the way Phil’s fingers had dipped under his shirt and were thumbing over his side, and not nearly enough of the sidewalk.

Yeah, Dan was definitely in love with him.

Fic: One golden glance of what should be

Title: One golden glance of what should be Author: maybeformepersonally Rating: G / General Audiences Summary: Hogwarts AU where inter-house friendship blooms, Dan plays Quidditch, Phil cheers for him, and realisations are acted upon. Word Count: 2752   Author’s Note: I wrote this fic for @unhawkeye for the Phanfic Events Spring Fic Exchange. I’d like to thank the kind folks at Phanfic Events for organising this fest and @unhawkeye for submitting this prompt and for the lovely comment they left, I’m glad you enjoyed it!  Warnings: None

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Sometimes, not often but sometimes, Dan regretted talking the Sorting Hat into putting him in Gryffindor. Oh, do not get the wrong idea, he liked his house. For the most part. His housemates may be a loud and boisterous bunch more often than not, but that worked well enough for Dan in group settings, since he could be involved without exhausting himself emotionally; all he had to do was make the occasional comment and laugh when someone said something funny and he was considered part of the group. He was proud of being a Gryffindor. He liked the warm, glowy feeling he got whenever he caught himself being particularly courageous, and there was nothing like seeing hundreds upon hundreds of other students, even from other houses, wearing his house colours and cheering for him when his fingers closed around the ever so elusive golden snitch. He liked earning house points, and he liked being the non-threatening, easy-going upperclassman that first years felt confident asking for help. And if he sometimes felt adrift and trapped in the stifling exuberance of his housemates, if he sometimes needed to get away from the aggressively extroverted energy of his house’s Common Room, well. There's nothing wrong with wanting some time to himself to recharge.

Dan liked his house. He was thankful he had managed to sway the Hat’s first ‘suggestion’. But being in Gryffindor meant he had to share class time with not only Phil Lester, but also Charlie Casey, who was apparently physically incapable of not flirting with Phil for more than 5 continuous minutes.

Here was the thing about Dan: he was a helplessly, desperately, poisonously jealous person by nature. It didn't matter that he had no claim over Phil, except maybe a tenuous one as a situational kind-of-friend who was happy to chat when they were both passing time and no one more interesting was around. It didn't matter that Charlie was getting nowhere with his overt flirting and only slightly more covert near-stalking. It didn't even matter that Phil was clearly not interested, because Phil was also painfully nice, and so as long as Charlie didn't cross a line, he'd put up with his annoying housemate making eyes at him and babbling at him and trying to sit close to him in class and, and, and.

Dan may have been biased, but it still grinded his gears, every single time.

“Any questions? No? Alright then! Split into pairs and start practising the spell. Remember to make that a light swish, we don’t want to have to make any unplanned visits to the Hospital Wing today!”

Dan was distracted enough sneaking looks at Phil and Charlie that the professor’s words caught him a bit off-guard. On the flip side, however, sneaking looks at Phil seemed to have paid off this time, for as soon as the instructions were uttered, Phil had turned to him with one of those bright smiles that always made a nervous wriggly feeling burst inside Dan’s chest. Is he… he is, Dan thinks wildly. Dan had, of course, noticed that Phil’s usual class partner hadn’t been present in either of their shared classes that day, but with Charlie right there he’d figured Phil would just partner with him. Then again, Charlie could be a bit too enthusiastic with his wand movements, so Phil was making the right strategic choice, really.

“Hey,” Phil said once he reached him. He even did that cute little hand gesture he did sometimes when greeting people, that movement that looked like it half wanted to be a wave if only it could gather enough motivation. The wriggly feeling intensified in Dan's chest. “Wanna partner?”

“Yeah,” Dan answered lamely. “Sure.”

The smile he got made him think being awkward was worth it, if it got him that reaction from Phil Lester of all people.

*

Phil walked down the moving staircase excitedly, moving slightly ahead of his mates every couple of minutes before noticing that his longer stride and bubbling enthusiasm were propelling him too far ahead, and forcing himself to slow down. It was 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday, and by all intents and purposes he should have been shuffling his feet and groaning under his breath at being out of bed so early on a weekend. But today was different. Because his efforts were for a cause. A good and just cause. And that cause was Daniel Howell, expertly flying all over the pitch and flaunting his frankly spectacular skills with a broomstick.

Today was the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and the whole school was vibrating with anticipation, with the sheer drama of it, the two rivals clashing in the pitch for their one and only yearly match, fighting to one-up each other at every turn, risking life and limb with gravity-defying moves for the unparalleled glory of coming out the other side victorious. Phil had the passing thought that if he was an animated character, his eyes would be shining. Possibly they’d be shaped like stars.

The overall scores so far were tilted slightly in favour of Slytherin, but the Gryffindors had a more well-rounded team, and the best Seeker in the school (Phil was adamant, despite his own housemates' protests), so the odds were looking pretty good for Gryffindor supporters. Which Phil was, today. He’d always cheered for Gryffindor when his own House wasn’t playing, but his support had become more… ardent since Dan joined the team in their fifth year. Coincidentally, fifth year was the year when Phil… noticed him.

Phil had a habit of spending more time inside his head than in the outside world with all his peers, and so it wasn’t unusual for him not to know the students from the other houses very well. Still, how he managed to overlook Dan Howell for so long was a mystery that evaded him. (Puberty might have had something to do with the ‘revelation’. Maybe. Possibly.)

Dan was just… so nice? Always, even with people who didn’t deserve it. And he was so smart, he always did well in their shared classes, but it wasn’t even that. Anyone who studied would do reasonably good in class, but Dan always asked the most insightful questions, and gave the most thoughtful answers, not like learning by rote would do, but like he had all these thought and ideas about what magic was, how magic worked, how magic affected magical people, about the implied tenets of magical society and what their implications were. Seriously, Phil didn’t know how he’d managed to escape being a Ravenclaw.

And he was beautiful, yeah, that was also a factor, but it wasn’t the only one, Phil had standards.

Dan met all of his standards, and then he went on to create a few new ones just for the sake of it. Like how Phil didn’t use to think about Hogwarts’ expectations that muggleborn children basically cut all ties with the culture they were born in to fully immerse themselves in the magical word, but ever since Dan had brought it up in class, he’d started noticing more and more the completely non-existent efforts purebloods made to learn about their mates’ culture, how most muggle references earned the speaker blank stares at best and a sneer at worst. How there was no muggle history taught at Hogwarts, to the detriment of all students, who would go on to graduate missing the history of the grand majority of humans, much of which is directly relevant to wizardkind. Like how muggle-raised first years have to quietly struggle with learning to write with a quill, since apparently that’s not used by muggles anymore? (Dan had something called a “gel pen” that could write in sparkly pink without any need to dip it into ink at all!)

The point of the matter was, Dan was on Phil’s mind all the time these days, but Phil wasn’t sure where he stood in Dan's. He always acted friendly towards Phil, even happy to talk to him, but he wasn’t normally the one to seek him out. Phil had decided to try talking to him more (it was his number one New Year’s resolution), and so far it was looking promising.

Phil doubted he’d get to talk to Dan the day of a match, let alone the most awaited match of the year for half the school at least, but he didn't really mind. He was going to get to see Dan playing Quidditch today. He was going to get to experience Dan in his element. Phil could have sworn Dan was made to be an athlete, the way he moved on a broom. It was stunning.

He was stunning.

*

Phil had been wrong, as it turned out. Later in the day, once the Gryffindor festivities had died down, Phil ran into Dan on his way to the library. Almost literally.

“Oh, hey, are you okay?” Dan asked, way too concerned and way too close, one hand still on Phil’s shoulder where he’d grabbed him to avoid a full-on collision.

“Oh. Hi. Yeah. Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I’m bad at keeping tabs on my surroundings. Thanks,” Phil spewed out with no intervention of his brain whatsoever.

Dan gave him one of those sweet, soft smiles with the dimples and squeezed his shoulder lightly before letting go. “It’s fine. Just try to pay better attention next time. We wouldn’t want to have to scrape you off the dungeon floors because you were too distracted to notice the staircase had changed directions.”

Phil threw him an exaggeratedly suspicious look, “What do you know? Whatever they told you, it’s not true and they’re trying to throw off suspicion by telling you made up stories about my early days of being a perfectly balanced first year genius. Don’t let them throw you off the scent, whoever told you that clearly has something to hide.”

Dan’s laugh made his heart do a wild flip in his chest, and all Phil could do was grin really wide.

They ended up going to the library together and sitting down in one of the alcoves to read their respective selection of books, turning to each other every now and then with a comment or a question sparked by their reading. Dan has blushed and ducked his head a little when Phil had congratulated him, and they'd made plans to revise for their Charms exam together later that week.

It had been a really good day, Phil decided as he laid down to sleep that night. A really good day, indeed.

*

They talked a bit more often after that, then started spending more and more time together. Dan was the funniest person he’d ever met, he could always make Phil laugh, even when he was fighting down anxiety or when he’d had a really bad day. Phil felt blessed to get to know him at all.

*

They were brewing Amortentia, Professor Winkledge had said. It made Phil nervous.

He already knew what a correctly brewed Amortentia would smell like to him. Or at least, he knew who it would smell like. Still, when Dan turned to him with a little smile and a questioning look, Phil nodded. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to brew with Dan just because he had a little crush. He did take a few deep breaths in the potions ingredients cabinet to release all that nervous energy once he was out of sight, though.

Dan was diligent, and precise. He was really good at potions, and Phil was really good at spacing out watching how gracefully his hands sliced the asphodel roots. They prevailed, however, and ended up with a near-perfect potion by the end of the class that Phil had actually helped make, distractions and all. Phil was a little overwhelmed by the earthly oak scent, tinged with a hint of citrus and something sweet he couldn’t quite identify that was coming from their cauldron once they reached the final stage. But it wasn’t too bad, just a little distracting. It made him want to hug Dan, which made perfect sense, but would also be supremely weird, so he just settled for shifting his weight from one foot to another and putting his hands in the pockets of his robe in that backwards way his body naturally settled into. Some people thought it was weird, but Phil knew Dan wouldn’t mind it or ever tease him about it, except maybe good-naturedly.

Dan didn’t say what the potion smelled like to him, other than muttering “fresh”, and, oddly enough, “alive” when prompted. It had made Phil laugh.

*

The thing to break the mounting tension between them is, surprisingly, Charlie.

Phil was hanging out with Dan out in the grounds, close to the lake, as they sometimes did when the weather was nice, when Dan abruptly cut off his explanation on why he thought muggle technology should be incorporated to the Hogwarts curriculum and how magical folk could benefit from it. It only took Phil a moment to figure out why: Charlie was striding purposefully towards them, stopping right in front of Phil and ignoring Dan completely.

“Phil,” he declared, to Phil’s bewilderment and slight annoyance. He’d been fascinated by Dan’s commentary, and Dan was never annoyed or patronising when Phil asked questions about the muggle world, which meant Phil had already derailed Dan’s explanation half a dozen times, out of a deep curiosity for the subject matter. For all of Dan’s patience with him, he seemed significantly more short-tempered about this interruption.

Charlie cleared his throat and, continuing to ignore Dan standing right there, stared straight into Phil. “Phil, would you like to go to tomorrow’s Hogsmeade visit with me?”

Phil stared, incomprehensive.

“He’s already agreed to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow,” Dan jumped in to his rescue.

Charlie frowned, but didn’t turn to look at Dan when he spoke. “A date takes precedence over friends hanging out. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

Well, now that was rude, and uncomfortable. “No,” Phil said without meaning to. Or rather, he did mean it, but he’d rather have said it less bluntly. “I mean, that’s not-Dan and me are going-it’s a date. We’re going as a date. I’m sorry,” Phil blurted out.

“Oh,” Charlie finally turned to look at Dan as he said it. “Oh.” After another two or three long seconds that felt more like an hour to Phil, Charlie said, “Okay,” and promptly left.

Phil waited until he was out of sight, then cast a sound barrier, just in case.

“Um. Sorry, I didn’t-I shouldn’t have dragged you into that without asking first.”

Dan shook his head, dismissing Phil’s worries. But he looked thoughtful, so Phil braced for one of Dan’s sharp, insightful realisations.

“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?”

“Yeah?” Phil ventured, confused. “We’d already made plans to...”

“No, I mean…” Dan was blushing, dear Merlin, really blushing, his entire face was a light pink and one of his dimples was showing even though he wasn't even smiling, and it was the cutest thing Phil had ever seen in his life. “I mean, like a date. If you want. A real date, not just... to fool Charlie...” he trailed off.

Phil thought this is what a deer in the headlights must feel, except opposite. Like, the same feeling but with opposite tension. In that deer probably weren't eagerly looking forward to being run over.

“Yes?”

“Is that a question?” Dan was looking straight at him, despite his bright blush, head held high. Brave, a Gryffindor through and through.

“Yes.” Before Dan can ask if he means ‘yes, that was a question’, he barrelled on. “Yes, I’d really like to go on a date with you tomorrow, and also today, if you want. Like tonight. Or right now. Right now is good, we’re already here and this is a good place for a date, I think… Maybe I think any place is a good place for a date with you” Phil ended in a quiet voice, heart pounding with adrenaline and nerves, even as he could see the tension drain out of Dan like a physical presence, and the gorgeous smile he got in response made him smile back instinctively.

“Yeah?” Dan asked breathlessly, but it was rhetorical. When Dan reached out and took one of his hands in his, lacing their fingers and squeezing them lightly, Phil thought this was a whole new kind of magic he had never known before.

The Avengers (2012) Review

"We have a Hulk."

I'll get right to the point; I loved it. I absolutely freaking loved it. And that is me being restrained. And by restrained I mean with actual restraints. I am actually dictating this to a friend while I'm strapped down like Hannibal Lecter. It is too dangerous to let me anywhere near a keyboard right now. Everything I write will just be a mass of overly excited hyperbole gibberish.

A film like The Avengers just shouldn't work. As it was in the comics, this is a film that sees Earth's Mightiest Heroes coming together to stop Thor's mad brother Loki from taking over the world. With so many famous heroes battling it out for screentime, The Avengers should collapse under its own weight before the title has even popped up on screen. But, against all the odds, it works and works beautifully. And a lot of this can be attributed to the hard work of one man, Joss Whedon.

Oh, Joss Whedon. How do I describe Joss Whedon? Joss Whedon is flawless. I hear what's left of his hair's insured for $10,000. I hear he does car commercials... in Japan. His favourite movie is Night of the Comet. One time he met Steven Moffat on a plane...and he told him that he broke fans' hearts without mercy. One time he plunged his fist into my chest, ripped out my heart, stomped on it for a total of four series and one movie, then gave it back to me and charged me for the experience. It was awesome.

The Avengers is unquestionably the biggest endeavour Whedon has ever embarked upon. Can he handle it? Of course he can. He might not have an extensive background in summer blockbusters, but any Buffy fan can tell you that he's a skilled director and an even better writer with a great gift for character and dialogue. He might not have created them but Whedon clearly understands each and every one of these characters. Because of this, some of the film's best moments end up just being people in a room bonding and bickering with each other. Whedon also makes great use of his entire cast. He understand that this is an ensemble piece and takes care to ensure that no one hero is given precedence over everyone else. Everyone is given their moment to shine.

That said, Robert Downey Jr. still swaggers off with every scene he's in and nabs most (but not all) of the film's best lines. Luckily, Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth are both able to hold their own against the onslaught of Downey Jr. charisma. As Loki, Tom Hiddleston is clearly having a lot of fun without once resorting to hammy scenery chewing. He also gets bonus points for pulling off Loki's distinctive headgear. Mark Ruffalo does a fantastic job taking over from Edward Norton, giving us a terrific Bruce Banner. Better yet, the CGI department finally delivers when it comes to his big green alter-ego. Along with looking like Ruffalo, this Hulk manages to steal the whole film. I won't say how because that would spoil the surprise.

On the S.H.I.E.L.D. side of things, Samuel L. Jackson is Samuel L. Jackson. Nuff said. Clark Gregg continues to expertly steal scenes as the deadpan Agent Phil Coulson, revealed here to be a massive Captain America fanboy (nice one, Joss). Cobie Smulders impresses as Maria Hill, despite being given little to do. After being a little one-note in Iron Man 2, Scarlett Johansson's Black Widow benefits the most from Whedon's involvement. There was no way he was going to have a kick-ass female character in his movie and not give her some personality and depth.

The Avengers succeeds where other superhero movies have failed by delivering one hell of a final act. Let's face it, as much fun as it is seeing these characters arguing and bonding with each other, what we really want to see is them kicking alien ass. We've never seen superhero action on this kind of epic scale before. All throughout the team's big battle with Loki's army in Manhattan I had a massive grin on my face and constantly had to resist urge to start jumping around the cinema cheering like a total loon.

Faults? Some of the CGI is a little iffy in places. Alan Silvestri's score is just as forgettable as every one he's done since Back to the Future. And Jeremy Renner's Hawkeye is seriously underused for first half of the film. But those are still minor quibbles. Bottom line, The Avengers is one of the most purely enjoyable experiences I have had at the cinema in a very long time.

Notes and Quotes

— While Iron Man, Cap, Thor and Hulk are close to how Stan Lee and Jack Kirby envisaged them, the rest of the film owes a massive debt to Mark Miller and Bryan Hitch's Ultimates series (still the best thing to come out of Marvel's Ultimate line).

— In The Ultimates, Miller and Hitch re-imagined Nick Fury and based him on Samuel L. Jackson.

— If you're willing, stick through the end credits to find out who the Avengers might be facing next. Many of you will be excited, even more of you will have no idea who those other people are talking about.

— The aliens in Loki's army are called the Chitauri, which is the name of the Skrulls in Marvel's Ultimate Universe. So they are basically Skrulls.

— The Avengers is the culmination of five films worth of set up. So be warned, if you haven't seen any of the previous Marvel films, then chances are you'll be a little confused.

— Whedon vets Alexis Denisof, Ashley Johnson and Enver Gjokaj all put in appearances. Have fun spotting them. There are also cameos from the likes of Powers Boothe, Jenny Agutter, the great Harry Dean Stanton and, of course, Stan Lee.

Nick Fury: “There was an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people, so when we needed them, they could fight the battles that we never could.”

Bruce Banner: “Last time I was in New York I kind of broke... Harlem.”

Tony Stark: “There is no throne, there is no version of this where you come out on top! Maybe your army will come, maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you! Because if we can't protect the Earth, you can be damn sure we'll avenge it!”

Steve Rogers: “Big man, in a suit of armour... take that away, what are you?” Tony Stark: “Uh... genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Steve Rogers: “Hulk? Smash!”

Thor: “Be careful how you speak. Loki is beyond reason, but he's of Asgard and he's my brother.” Black Widow: “He killed 80 people in 2 days.” Thor: “...He's adopted.”

Michael Bay, please take note, this is what you get when you don't sacrifice character and story for lots of stuff blowing up. Four out of four Hulks who smash and smash good!

Mark Greig has been writing for Doux Reviews since 2011.

2019 Oscars Thoughts/Predictions

Tagging: @ghostofachancewithyou

Note: These are just my thoughts on each of the nominees as someone who loves films but also as a filmmaker. This is broken down by category and by nominee

Best Picture:

“Black Panther”: This was a great film but I don’t see it winning. If I’m being honest I wasn’t even sure it was going to be nominated. My thoughts on Black Panther winning are pretty much the same as my thoughts on Get Out last year. I enjoyed the film and if it wins I’ll be surprised but fine with it. If it wins I’ll be anticipating uproar but if it loses I’m anticipating uproar as well. “BlacKkKlansman”: I wasn’t able to see this so I don't have very many thoughts on this nomination. I enjoy Spike Lee’s films and I’m sure this follows as one of his best but I can’t say too much about something I haven’t seen. “Bohemian Rhapsody”: I see this more as the underdog film. While it was good I just really don't see it pulling off the win. Even the nomination was surprising if the Academy was picking based solely on critic reception. But I found the performances well done and I did enjoy the experience so if it wins it won’t be all bad. “The Favourite”: What can I say. It’s certainly a Yorgos film, no doubt about it. I enjoyed the story and the way that it was set up. I’m not anticipating this to win best picture but I was anticipating it to get a best pic nom. It was well put together and it’d be a surprise win. “Green Book”: Based on what happened during the Golden Globes I’m really unaware of what to expect. I doubt it will win Best Picture due to the films it’s up against but if it follows in reception then it is very possible. I’ll be surprised if it wins since I found the story lacking. I understand that it was more a family story since most of the writers/producers are related to Viggo Mortenson’s character (I know he was a real guy but I can’t remember his name). I just feel with the way it was marketed as a story about racism and friendship in American as well as a focus on the actual Green Book with it’s use. But the film itself felt lacking in this area and I believe it honestly should have focused more on Mahershala Ali “Roma”: This is my winner. I have a feeling that it’s going to take the top. It was a beautiful personal story for Alfonso and that came across in everything. Every shot, every line, was gorgeous and moving. I’d be shocked if it didn’t win. The performances are amazing, especially from Yalitza as a non-actor. Yeah, I’ve got high hopes for this one. “A Star Is Born”: Eh. The film was fine. It wasn’t spectacular, I wasn’t blown away by it, but it was well done. I found the shot choices and the lighting tied it all together. The performances weren’t terrible but I’m not sure that they gave it enough to put it as the top nominee. “Vice”: I’ve heard that it was a great film but I haven’t seen it. Anyway based solely on the other films in this category that it’s got a high chance of winning but I’m doubtful that it’s going to be the winning film.

Lead Actor:

Christian Bale, “Vice”: If he doesn’t win based on his performance as Cheney, then I’ll be thoroughly surprised. Bale always throws himself into his roles and while I haven’t yet seen the film, from the clips that I have seen, he’s done another great role. Bradley Cooper, “A Star Is Born”: His character has never been too difficult to portray based on the past versions they’ve had of this film. I think Bradley made his version only a bit unique by having it set in modern day but I mean, it didn’t thrill me. If he wins, ok, but it wasn’t something jaw-dropping Willem Dafoe, “At Eternity’s Gate”: I love Willem Defoe and I wasn’t able to see this film but if he wins then that’s fine with me. Rami Malek, “Bohemian Rhapsody”: Rami may possibly win this. The fact that unlike the Golden Globes he isn’t in a separate category than Bale does make it a neck-and-neck race. As Freddie he was immensely convincing and the fact the Freddie is such a music icon as well as an LGBT+ icon does make the role difficult. Not because he’s a real person but because a lot of people are going to make judgements about every move you make as Freddie. Rami pulled it off tremendously and if he wins it will be worth it. Viggo Mortensen, “Green Book”: Viggo could potentially win the race. Again I wasn’t that much a fan of Green Book but voters sure do seem to be.

Lead Actress:

Yalitza Aparicio, “Roma”: Just give it to her now. I mean her performance was beautiful and the fact that she’d never acted before is somewhat a benefit to that. Alfonso wrote her character to be personal, to basically be his mother and it worked. Her line delivery was beautiful and there are scenes I won’t mention (because of spoilers), that were breathtaking Glenn Close, “The Wife”: I love Glenn Close and if she wins it I won’t be mad. They haven’t been playing “The Wife” anywhere near me so I don’t have anything much to say since I haven’t seen it. Olivia Colman, “The Favourite”: The fact that quite a bit of her scenes relied on the use of facial expressions alone is insane. The fact that she was so convincing in her role with just the use of her facial expressions is a testament to Colman’s acting. I’m not certain that she will win but I have a feeling that there’s a large chance she will. Lady Gaga, “A Star Is Born”: She was good, no doubt about that. I think that her connection to Ally was obvious. She knew the experience of trying to become a musician but maybe not in the same way as Ally did with sudden fame. That being said I know a lot of people want her to win but I personally am fine with her only taking the nomination. Melissa McCarthy, “Can You Ever Forgive Me?”: This is the nomination I’m most surprised by. Honestly I didn't think anyone was paying attention to the film. I enjoyed it and Melissa’s performance, it was nice to see her in a dramatic role for once. I doubt that she’s going to win but it’s nice that she was recognized for this performance

Supporting Actor:

I don’t have many thoughts on this category since I’ve only seen two of the films in this. I have a feeling it’ll go to Rockwell whom I love as an actor and will be happy if he wins but I also feel they could hand it to Mahershala. Just like with Melissa McCarthy I’m surprised that Richard E Grant received recognition for Can You Ever Forgive Me?, I enjoyed the film but it wasn’t really talked about much as an award contender. As for Sam Elliott. Sorry Sam, I know you’re a family friend and all but I don’t think you’ll win and I’m surprised you’re even nominated because you were barely in the film at all.

Mahershala Ali, “Green Book” Adam Driver, “BlacKkKlansman” Sam Elliott, “A Star Is Born” Richard E. Grant, “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” Sam Rockwell, “Vice”

Supporting Actress:

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Really in this category everyone was brilliant and everyone deserves it and I don’t care who wins because I’ll be happy either way.

Amy Adams, “Vice” Marina de Tavira, “Roma” Regina King, “If Beale Street Could Talk” Emma Stone, “The Favourite” Rachel Weisz, “The Favourite”

Director:

I’ve loved all these directors for years. Spike is so deserving as a first time nominee and I’d love to see him take it. I’d also love to see either Alfonso or Pawel take it because both of them created beautiful films that I’m happy they reached out of their country of origin and spanned the world. I truly would be happy for anyone to take it and my prediction is Alfonso.

Spike Lee, “BlacKkKlansman” Pawel Pawlikowski, “Cold War” Yorgos Lanthimos, “The Favourite” Alfonso Cuarón, “Roma” Adam McKay, “Vice”

Animated Feature:

“Incredibles 2,” Brad Bird: Maybe it was because it came out years after the first when I got over the hype. I’m not seeing this as the winner. It didn’t blow me away, it was fine and I don't think it’ll win. “Isle of Dogs,” Wes Anderson: This was hilarious and if it takes Pixar down than I’ll be excited. I’m doubtful that it will win but I would love it if they did.

I haven’t seen these other three but I’ve heard good things about each. Whoever wins will be great I’m sure but I don’t have a full prediction

“Mirai,” Mamoru Hosoda “Ralph Breaks the Internet,” Rich Moore, Phil Johnston “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse,” Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, Rodney Rothman

Animated Short:

Bao is the only short in this category I’ve seen which means that I don't have anything to say. If it wins great, but I'm sure the other films have as much of a chance.

“Animal Behaviour,” Alison Snowden, David Fine “Bao,” Domee Shi “Late Afternoon,” Louise Bagnall “One Small Step,” Andrew Chesworth, Bobby Pontillas “Weekends,” Trevor Jimenez

Adapted Screenplay:

I don’t really know about this category. I have a feeling that it will go to A Star Is Born but there’s a possibility of it going to If Beale Street Could Talk.

“The Ballad of Buster Scruggs,” Joel Coen , Ethan Coen “BlacKkKlansman,” Charlie Wachtel, David Rabinowitz, Kevin Willmott, Spike Lee “Can You Ever Forgive Me?,” Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty “If Beale Street Could Talk,” Barry Jenkins “A Star Is Born,” Eric Roth, Bradley Cooper, Will Fetters

Original Screenplay:

I enjoyed all of these films. First Reformed was wonderful and I’m glad it received the nom. I’m favoring Roma but again it could really go anywhere in this category.

“The Favourite,” Deborah Davis, Tony McNamara “First Reformed,” Paul Schrader “Green Book,” Nick Vallelonga, Brian Currie, Peter Farrelly “Roma,” Alfonso Cuarón “Vice,” Adam McKay

Cinematography:

Ahhhhhh. The Favorite, Roma, and Cold War are the three top contenders in my opinion. I’m not certain which I want to win more. The cinematography for each was gorgeous and made the films what they were. I’m sure it’s going to be one of those three however.

“Cold War,” Lukasz Zal “The Favourite,” Robbie Ryan “Never Look Away,” Caleb Deschanel “Roma,” Alfonso Cuarón “A Star Is Born,” Matthew Libatique

Best Documentary Feature:

I’ve not seen any of these, I’m just surprised the Mr Rogers doc wasn’t nominated.

“Free Solo,” Jimmy Chin, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi “Hale County This Morning, This Evening,” RaMell Ross “Minding the Gap,” Bing Liu “Of Fathers and Sons,” Talal Derki “RBG,” Betsy West, Julie Cohen

Best Documentary Short Subject:

I’ve not seen any of these this year so I’m not certain who should win.

“Black Sheep,” Ed Perkins “End Game,” Rob Epstein, Jeffrey Friedman “Lifeboat,” Skye Fitzgerald “A Night at the Garden,” Marshall Curry “Period. End of Sentence.,” Rayka Zehtabchi

Best Live Action Short Film: 

Again I haven’t seen any of these so I can’t make a comment.

“Detainment,” Vincent Lambe “Fauve,” Jeremy Comte “Marguerite,” Marianne Farley “Mother,” Rodrigo Sorogoyen “Skin,” Guy Nattiv

Best Foreign Language Film:

I have a feeling that Roma will win but I’d prefer it to be Cold War. Cold War was a beautiful film and since Roma is nominated for Best Picture while Cold War is not I would truly love it if Cold War won Best Foreign Language film.

“Capernaum” (Lebanon) “Cold War” (Poland) “Never Look Away” (Germany) “Roma” (Mexico) “Shoplifters” (Japan)

Film Editing:

I’ve only seen two of these and while The Favourite had beautiful editing I can't really compare it to any films I haven’t seen.

“BlacKkKlansman,” Barry Alexander Brown “Bohemian Rhapsody,” John Ottman “Green Book,” Patrick J. Don Vito “The Favourite,” Yorgos Mavropsaridis “Vice,” Hank Corwin

Sound Editing:

I’m not saying too much about this category except that if they don’t give it to A Quiet Place I will be pissed. It’s the most deserving in terms of Sound Editing and you can fight me if you disagree.

“Black Panther,” Benjamin A. Burtt, Steve Boeddeker “Bohemian Rhapsody,” John Warhurst “First Man,” Ai-Ling Lee, Mildred Iatrou Morgan “A Quiet Place,” Ethan Van der Ryn, Erik Aadahl “Roma,” Sergio Diaz, Skip Lievsay

Sound Mixing:

Give it to Bohemian Rhapsody but uhhh. A Quiet Place was fucking robbed.

“Black Panther” “Bohemian Rhapsody” “First Man” “Roma” “A Star Is Born”

Production Design:

Truly I have nothing much to say in regards to this category because all these films had incredible production design and I’d be happy with any win

“Black Panther,” Hannah Beachler “First Man,” Nathan Crowley, Kathy Lucas “The Favourite,” Fiona Crombie, Alice Felton “Mary Poppins Returns,” John Myhre, Gordon Sim “Roma,” Eugenio Caballero, Bárbara Enrı́quez

Original Score:

Desplat is nominated and so he shall win. Doesn't necessarily mean I want him too although his score was wonderful, it just means that he's the big name on this list. All the scores were well orchestrated so I’d be pleased with any outcome

“BlacKkKlansman,” Terence Blanchard “Black Panther,” Ludwig Goransson “If Beale Street Could Talk,” Nicholas Britell “Isle of Dogs,” Alexandre Desplat “Mary Poppins Returns,” Marc Shaiman, Scott Wittman

Original Song:

They’re going to give it to Shallow I can feel it. I am surprised that they chose “The Place Where Lost Things Go” as I was certain they’d nominate Trip A Little Light Fantastic or (Underneath the) Lovely London Sky for Mary Poppins Returns. Personally I would have loved is A Conversation was nominated for the live performance alone but either way they did choose a good Mary Poppins song. 

“All The Stars” from “Black Panther” by Kendrick Lamar, SZA “I’ll Fight” from “RBG” by Diane Warren, Jennifer Hudson “The Place Where Lost Things Go” from “Mary Poppins Returns” by Marc Shaiman, Scott Wittman “Shallow” from “A Star Is Born” by Lady Gaga, Mark Ronson, Anthony Rossomando, Andrew Wyatt and Benjamin Rice “When A Cowboy Trades His Spurs For Wings” from “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs” by David Rawlings and Gillian Welch

Makeup and Hair:

Oh it’ll go to Vice but I’d prefer if they handed it to Border

“Border” “Mary Queen of Scots” “Vice”

Costume Design:

Black Panther needs the win. I personally think it’ll be the only win for the film but it’ll be a good one. Having to design that many costumes for entire nations in a fictional setting based off real tribal clothing is so intricate and they’ll be robbed if they don’t win. I know the classic choice will be The Favourite but who cares. Black Panther had the better costumes.

“The Ballad of Buster Scruggs,” Mary Zophres “Black Panther,” Ruth E. Carter “The Favourite,” Sandy Powell “Mary Poppins Returns,” Sandy Powell “Mary Queen of Scots,” Alexandra Byrne

Visual Effects:

My bet is for First Man but they tend to favor superhero films in this category and I’m not certain where the win will go

“Avengers: Infinity War” “Christopher Robin” “First Man” “Ready Player One” “Solo: A Star Wars Story”