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watching-pictures-move · 3 years

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Put On Your Raincoats #20 | Squalid Motels and Desperate Gals, courtesy of Kim Christy

This review contains mild spoilers.

When I first heard of Kim Christy, I knew I had to delve into her work. Here is someone who was involved in the drag scene in the '60s and went on to direct and produce pornography from the '80s onward. She's also a trans woman director (and occasional actress), which is not just unusual in golden age pornography but even mainstream cinema today. Unfortunately, figuring out where to start was a challenge. There's a very good interview with her on the Advocate but which doesn't really delve into her directing work. So I did the highly risky and ill-advised move of scanning through the titles in her filmography and trying to pick out ones with interesting sounding premises. Even this was a challenge, as a lot of her movies sounded like they didn't have a terrible amount of story. (A good many of them also had certain slurs in the title, which are unfortunately common in trans pornography.) So out of the crapshoot of movies I picked, I can't say I really got to the bottom of what makes her work interesting or even gelled to most of them, but hopefully I can convey what makes the ones I did take to interesting.

To start with the most slight, the two Divine Atrocities movies are basically a collection of sex scenes. There's a theme of dominant women running through them, but otherwise there isn't much tying together in terms of staging, aesthetics and the like. The segments have titles like "The Leather Lass Tamer", "Rubber Rampage" and "Ms. Degradation", but truth be told, nothing here is terribly shocking. So there isn't a lot to either of these movies, but if you're watching it for those reasons, they're enjoyable enough. A few of the segments feature trans performers, and I did find that Sulka had a nicely imposing screen presence in her scene, and while Sugar Nicole briefly threatens her partner with her "big black cock", I did like that for the most part the movies don't discern between these scenes and the ones with cisgender performers. In the eyes of Kim Christy, there's room for everyone in this great sexual melange. Also notable is the threesome scene with Janey Robbins, who (after likely reading Dan Savage's column) tells one of her partners, "If you don't find a different way to fuck me, you can forget it, I'll have to find somebody else", and in the first time in the history of civilization, gets mad at her male partner for not climaxing quickly enough. "You always say it'll only take a few minutes. Time is the only thing I can't replace, and it always takes too long."

A bit more substantive narratively but less interesting is Momma's Boy, with a premise that you can guess based on the title. Tantala Ray presides over a brothel set during an indeterminate period, where she presides over her girls and also her son, who mysteriously became a deaf-mute at a certain point of time. Why did her son become a deaf-mute? Will we ever find out? Spoiler: it's incest. Tantala Ray does have a weird enough screen presence to make her parts watchable, but this has none of the charge that, say, Taboo brings to the same material. (It's worth noting that Ray in this movie, looking like a debauched queen of Mardi Gras in one scene, is a camp villain while Kay Parker plays her role straight in the other movie.) As it's shot on video, the movie is not very nice to look at, and the dirt cheap production values make it unclear whether this is supposed to be a period piece. Some of the dialogue is amusing ("Oxford?" "Guess again." "Princeton?" "Try Biloxi Tech, my sweetie."), and there is some old timey music and one of the clients wears an ascot at one point, so it's not a totally squalid affair. (It's classy, see? He's wearing an ascot.) As the son, Jerry Butler does a cringe-inducing lisp, but I did chuckle at his last line.

A bit easier to recommend is True Crimes of Passion, where Janey Robbins plays a private detective (cheekily named B.J. Fondel) who invariably bungles her investigations and winds up in sex scenes with the people she's supposed to be investigating. "Out of the fog and into the smog" begins the overwrought voiceover, which truth be told doesn't compare to the likes of Chandler but I guess the effort is nice. The first case involves her investigating the wife of a minister whom her client suspects of infidelity. Surprise, surprise, it turns out the wife has a girlfriend with whom she has dominant sex. Thanks to Robbins' investigative prowess, she gets found out and forced to join the proceedings and ends up getting her client, a Dan Quayle looking motherfucker in a cowboy hat, captured as well, which leads to an incredible burn.

"The lord will punish you for this."

"The lord already has, he gave me you for a husband."

Also, when Robbins is forced into cunnilingus, she says over narration, "Oh Christ, I'm not even sure I've seen one of these things up close", and yeah, okay, Janey.

The second scene is probably the most notable as it features Christy as a performer. Robbins visits her friend to investigate a death threat against her friend's brother (also Robbins' ex), and the twist can be deduced when you start wondering why a seemingly minor character gets an unusually large amount of screentime. The scene features a trope that likely isn't terribly sensitive by modern standards, but I get the sense from that Advocate interview that Christy isn't too hung up about such things and one must concede that the film is a product of its time and genre (and within that context, there's a lot worse out there). The last scene has Robbins spying on her neighbour in hotel to get some industry secrets, which leads to some really awkward dialogue about champagne and then a threesome involving her client and mark. Like the work of Yasojiru Ozu, this scene breaks the 180-rule, but I guess if this is your thing, you might enjoy it. At the very end, the mark just gives up his secrets to the client. The secrets of male bonding sometimes elude me.

Easily the most accomplished and enjoyable film from Christy that I watched was Squalor Motel. It combines the sexual variety of the other films with a sense of camp and grounds it in a distinct, memorable location. There isn't much more "plot" than the other movies, as it's basically about a motel concierge doing her job over the course of a day, but as it follows her bumping into a variety of (usually horny) guests and finding herself in amusing (and unfailingly sexual) situations, there's enough of a narrative through line that it feels like a "real" movie where the other movies strained for similar effect, and the movie uses a soundtrack of icy synths and jazz that sounds like imitation Angelo Badalamenti to give it all an alluring vibe. I'm gonna make a wager that David Lynch would have liked this movie. Look, I have no idea what his viewing habits are or what sends his motor running, and the thought of him jacking it furiously to this or any movie is not something that brings me pleasure. But this shares some of the campy tone and surface qualities of his works, and I also wanted to leave you all with that image.

Why does the motel have its own house band (to whom people try to listen to while they engage in all kinds of sexual congress)? Why is Jamie Gillis made up like a vampire and trying to sell marital aids? Why does the one guest's blow-up doll turn into a real person (and prove, uh, extremely vocal during their scene)? Why is the owner wearing a pig mask and a tutu while he spies on his guests? Why is everyone laughing at the newlywed? Why is the one scientist with a Hitler mustache and his shrill-voiced assistant conducting experiments (read: having a threesome) with Tantala Ray? And how are most of these things taking place in the mysterious Reptile Room in the middle of the motel? With an extremely winning Colleen Brennan in the lead role (sporting a pair of thick glasses, a Lucille Ball updo, and a big, toothy smile), we'll have a pretty good time finding out. Like a lot of hardcore movies, this is pretty episodic in structure, but its distinct atmosphere gives it a nice sense of momentum as it drifts from scene to scene.

With its nice production design (and the fact that it seems to have actual sets, rather than being shot in what I assume are people's homes like in the other movies), Squalor Motel feels a bit more upscale and lavish than the average porno. While I don't have any budgetary information handy, I do know that the production had an assistant director, Ned Morehead. To what extent he contributed to the movie's DNA I can't say for certain, but the directorial effort of his I watched, also produced by Christy, had many of the same qualities. Desperate Women starts off feeling pretty stylish with its spraypaint style opening credits (although it loses a bit of style when it misspells star Taija Rae's name as "Taja Rea"). Taija Rae plays a reporter who ends up wrongfully convicted for a murder and thrown in brutal women's prison presided over by the sadistic Tantala Ray, who seems to get her jollies from spying on her prisoners as they get it on or abusing them with the help of her dimwitted guard. During such incidents, the guard frequently ends up ejaculating on her uniform as a source of comic relief. (One such scene ends with a shot of a photo of Ronald Reagan.) I must however disclose, without revealing too much about the shameful inner workings of my hopelessly degenerate mind, that the denouement of scene involving Ray, her guard and Sharon Mitchell did not leave me unmoved. Mitchell plays a prisoner who befriends Taija Rae, and it's worth noting that despite being one of the best actresses in classic porn, she's saddled here with an atrocious Hispanic accent and at one point sings a bit of "America" from West Side Story.

By porn standards, this is actually quite well produced and has a relatively sturdy narrative. (I must however note that one scene has a blatant ejaculation-related continuity error.) Women in prison movies tend to be pretty squalid affairs in general, at least in terms of production values, so this doesn't feel too far off from the real thing and offers more explicit versions of the same pleasures, while its sense of humour gives it a nice campy quality. Tantala Ray especially delivers in a pleasingly over the top performance as the teeth-gnashing villain (the camera often frames her severe face in wide angle close ups), and say what you will about Sharon Mitchell's accent, I did like seeing her pop up in here. With all the flamboyance and excitement around her, Taija Rae almost becomes a supporting character in her own movie, although I must confess that I found her character's hopeless naivety pretty cute. ("I didn't wear rubbers, it's sunny out".) With a fun cast, a firm handle on the genre's pleasures and a groovy soundtrack, this is a pretty good time.

#film #movie review #put on your raincoats #divine atrocities #divine atrocities 2 #momma's boy #true crimes of passion #squalor motel #desperate women #kim christy #ned morehead

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awkwardtaco056 · 5 years

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so now that i’m no longer in the Hell that was school and after finding the lovely blog @endcringe i’ve decided to talk about my own experiences with cringe culture, bullying, and why it’s Really Bad to not let people enjoy inherently harmless things, especially neurodivergent people (read more because this is gonna get long and triggering at times, TW for mentions of bullying, suicide, child abuse, a brief mention of incest shipping. I won’t be naming any of the peers that I discuss my experiences with, because my point with this post is Not to “cancel” anyone, I just want to speak out on my experiences)

I’m neurodivergent; I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 8 years old. I didn’t know a lot about it, and a family member even painted it as “oh it’s nothing blah blah blah just apply yourself more. Because of this, I had no idea about the concept of hyperfixations until I was in my late teens. Due to that, I would obsess over random things and my family would shame me relentlessly for it. My mother said I had an “addictive personality” and that she feared I’d end up a drug addict or alcoholic because of it.

I look younger than what I am, I’m short, and small. AKA, the perfect candidate for being picked on by people bigger and stronger than me. People made fun of my art when I was around 13, but fortunately that was an instance where spite fueled me to improve drastically. However, just because I happened to take the shitty comments and have it fuel me then does NOT mean bullying people will have that effect all the time. At some point someone put my old South Park fan art on a cringe blog. I was temporarily hurt, and a little angry, but I realized that if someone was making fun of a 15 year old’s art, they probably didn’t have much going for them in life, so I moved on.

Fast forward to high school. Everything was horrible and I’m not exaggerating when I say I barely made it out alive. I was living in an abusive household up until January 2018 and I found comfort in many different interests. I’ve always found great comfort in music and the arts in general. In 2016, I drew a picture of a mermaid. I was inspired by the chocolate opal gemstone, and I thought it’d be fun to draw a gay chubby mermaid with dark skin and a rainbow tail and freckles. Junior year was lousy and I wanted something that sparked Joy. I was immediately told that “scientifically, mermaids wouldn’t look like that. Mind you, my take looked like this:

Obviously I wasn’t going for realism, I just wanted to draw a cute mermaid. However, they continued to tell me that they wouldn’t look like that, going as far as writing so on the back of said drawing. When I got angry at her for taking it too far (as I’d established before that I didn’t like it when people wrote on my art without permission), they got angry back, accusing me of being unable to take criticism. Heated by the accusation, I went as far as asking my art teacher if it was fair for them to say that, and she said no, stating that constructive criticism would be talking about how I could improve my lineart and coloring in the digital version. I took her actual helpful criticism and since then have improved Drastically in digital art. Even with that being said, I found myself hesitant to participate in things such as MerMay because I was leery of hearing that peer berate me for having cartoony mermaids.

During high school I grew to love many musicians, a lot of emo/alternative stuff, a couple being Twenty One Pilots and Melanie Martinez. I love how unique TOP’s style is, their open discussion of mental illness, and as someone who had a rough childhood, I connected with every single song on Cry Baby. It was like nothing I’d ever heard. I started listening to mashups featuring all these different artists I love, adoring how they could change the tone and sound so drastically. A peer Bully of mine in junior year condemned these two artists, declaring that they made “Bad Music” simply because it didn’t fit their tastes. They’d throw my drawings on the ground, write over them in pen, steal my headphones so I couldn’t listen to music, push me around, complain that mashups sucked and gave them a headache, and in general shit all over conetnt that was actively preventing me from committing suicide.

Some family members were no better. Once high school hit, I began listening to Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, and My Chemical Romance. Their deep complex lyrics stuck with me. I would write down quotes from my favorite songs and thanks to hyperfixating, I remember each studio album in order My mother resented when I fell in love with the “Emo Trinity” because “the Columbine shooters were emo and that event traumatized me” Despite that, not only did the Columbine tragedy occur in 1999 and none of the bands got together until the early 2000s, but I have a pretty good feeling those groups aren’t For gun violence. The other side constantly criticized the fact that I love FOB, P!ATD, and MCR because I’m black and “why must you listen to that white people music.”

I grew fond of Dan and Phil in high school (and I’m still a fan to this day!), I loved Phil’s kindness and positive aura and I deeply connect with Dan’s sense of humor and personality. Their content made me happy during some very dark times in my life. It’s November 2017, I’m over a close peer’s house at the time, and notice PINOF is upon us. I drew the PINOF whiskers on my face, my plan being to quietly watch them in the corner of peer’s bedroom on my phone through headphones, the others were doing their own thing and I knew they didn’t like them, so I thought they’d respect it if I silently indulged in it. Unfortunately, the complete opposite happened. I was immediately shunned and locked out of the bedroom, told that I’d only be let back in if I washed the whiskers off because “absolutely not”. Me, being stubborn, washed them off temporarily but drew them back on in the room. Life during then was especially bad for me, as the abusive household I was in was getting worse. They noticed, of course, and even though all I wanted was to enjoy this small tradition in a time during a deep depression, I was immediately shoved out the room and locked out, only to have said peer’s family members notice. I’m a relatively shy person, so this was honesty a really harrowing experience that had a lasting effect on me.

I grew to adore Sanders Sides as well, but the moment I found out most of my peers didn’t like Thomas, I was terrified. I stopped watching Dan and Phil’s content for months and shied away from other fandoms too, only occasionally indulging in times of complete solitude. One time when said peers were due to visit my house for the first time, I saw the Phandom and Fander stuff I’d hung up on my wall in my little sanctuary that was my bedroom (it was the first time in years I’d had my own room), and I was filled with panic and fear. I took them down and hid them away, genuinely terrified of what they’d do to me if they saw. It’s still incites so much anger in me to this day because they turned around and ended up shipping incest, but somehow liking D&P and Sanders Sides was So. Much. Worse.

They were baffled by my actions, despite having humiliated me Twice by going on a private blog of mine separate from everything so that I could fully indulge and laughing at everything on there, once at a peer’s house, once right in school. I don’t think they realized how traumatizing it was to have a large group of people in public laughing at something I was deeply self conscious about for all of my life. I put on a brave face at the time, but ended up crying in the bathroom after first period began. I continued to be treated as lesser until things came to an ugly head August 2018 when I ended up in the hospital because I nearly attempted suicide. Years of child abuse, bullying, and being deemed “cringy” made me feel like I didn’t deserve to be alive, that everyone would be happier if I were gone.

After arguably one of the lowest points in my life, I cut them off and slowly began to embrace the Real Me. I started letting myself enjoy the things again, made true friends and even found love, my first boyfriend ever at 18. I still get choked up retelling it, but when PINOF 10 dropped, after he found out how much I’d been hurt over the incident in 2017, I was greeted with a photo of him with the whiskers on his face. I cried for a while, blown away at such a pure act of kindness. He listens to me ramble about my interests, he compliments my taste in music, he watched K-12 with me.

This got incredibly long, but my point is this: Cringe Culture hurts people. You might think it’s whatever if the Thing doesn’t apply to your interests, but content you’re denouncing as cringy could be something that’s keeping them alive, that one flicker of light in a void of darkness. When I was contemplating suicide, I listened to The Black Parade, repeating Gee’s words to myself over and over, that nothing in the world was worth hurting yourself over. Some friendly joshing here and there is okay, but actively ripping someone to shreds constantly to the point where they have a mental breakdown in front of you and later on plan their own demise is disgusting. Nobody should abuse anyone for having harmless interests, no one. Unless you’re participating in p*dophilic/inc*st/s*xual assault/inherently abusive ships/content and pretending it’s not bad because “Fiction doesn’t impact reality!”, you have every right to like what you like and be happy. Read homestuck. Play Undertale. Draw up the Wildest OCs you can imagine. And stay away from people who try to rob you of innocent fun, life is too short and in this cruel, unforgiving world, you deserve to be happy, whether you’re a 13 year old who draws cute furries, a 16 year old cosplayer on TikTok, a VSCO girl, a 30 year old who writes/draws self insert art or a 20 year old who adores Invader Zim.

Cringe Culture is just bullying under a different name, and it can lead to many instances of people, especially fellow neurodivergent folk to feel isolated and ostracized. Attempting to bully someone out of an interest they have isn’t going to fix them; it’s more often than not going to cause more damage. I suffer from diagnosed C-PTSD, anxiety, and depression, and sometimes I still find myself trying to over-justify my interests. To all who are roped up in bad homes and lousy “friends” who berate you for your innocent passions, I’m sorry you’re suffering, things will one day get better even if it doesn’t feel like it, and fuck those people. I’d also like to note that sometimes even if it seems more terrifying, it’s better to have one or two close friends you can truly trust than a whole group that walks all over you. You have every right to call them out for treating you poorly, and if things don’t improve, you also have every right to leave.

You have a right to live your True Self.

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whumpersworld · 4 years

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Misery and Intrigue

pt. 1 of my box-boy series I have planned, this follows Daniel and his experience not only with Kneeel, but with pet ownership in general.

started by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and I'd love to get on on the box-boy masterlist @shameless-whumper

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It had taken a lot of strength to get past his intial nerves, you know. It was an ordeal for him to, an effort; opening the again site that is. It was hard almost for Daniel P. Boyce, the nearly twenty-five year old. He had heard whispers, praising the company on the street, and others joyously exclaiming how much they adore their 'pets', but they had money you see. They had an excess of it, and it took months to save up for the amount needed. Well, for what he wanted specifically. There was no way he was going through some dodgy company no matter how many couplons he has gotten sent. He did have a well paying job, any was lucky enough to be able to work from home, thank god; comumute was hard considering his whole situation with his legs, he just didn't consider himself rich. Rich people bought what they wanted when they wanted, they didn't have to save for anything. Yes he was a bit bitter, but enough of that.

Kneeel, a lesser known but highly praised company caught his eye when he was looking into where to buy his pet from initially. Their products were photographed like models and advertised like dogs, intimate bits artistically covered by the company logo and a description of their best qualities below their photographs. It was interesting, shoping this way. It felt casual though, too casual almost, like he wasn't buying a human pet and was simply purchasing the designer shoes they were wearing. It eased his conscience still and allowed him to shop freely.

His eyes were drawn to a lanky redhead girl and he clicked into the arrow beside the first picture which showed him another photo, this one was a close up of her face. She had a deep cupids bow and her face was absolutely littered in freckles. She was sweet looking, and also a hard pass. He wondered if there was a filtering option, there were too many women being advertised and he simply was not interested. He hummed gleefully when he found the filtering options, of them there were plenty. 'Helpful, user friendly.' Dan chided internally. He designed websites you know, and couldn't help but praise the features of those he was pleased with.

Within the filters there of course was one for separating the men by use, one for both sexes likely but once again, he had no interest in what the Women Of Kneeel had to offer. He needed someone who could assist him properly. Dan couldn't have told you what that meant at the time but he knew after looking through those made for physical assistance that the athletically built 6'3" blonde 49021 was practically made for him. Catalog shopping was easier, Dan thought, it made it easier not to obsess over every aspect of the babes appearance. He looked fine, he looked better than fine to be quite honest. Dan knew that no man like this would never lay his eyes on him naturally.

Looking through the boy's bio was interesting. Of course there was no listed reason for way he had be previously refurbished but it did give him an idea of what he was like, you know, before. He was going to be an EMT, studying really hard. Life had other plans and harsher things to throw at him. He's lost everything. That of course wasn't in the bio, Dan just knew, he knew what it was like to be poor and desperate but he had never sunk that low. Not that the big bad corporate slavers would want him, him being crippled would likely make it hard to kneel. The man shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, things were good now. They really were. He lived in a beautiful condo and had a fantastic job as a software developer he pumped out content like know ones business and he deserved this damnit. He deserved to have someone take care of him like he needed taken care of, he's suffered long enough. The loneliness, the hurt, the physical pain, it could all be avoided now, he'd have someone to help him and thank God for that, truly.

"49021, what are we going to do with you? Pretty boy, nice rack." Daniel joked to himself. He noticed that his original distributor was listed as Whumpee Barn and he cringed and bit his cheek, it'd be a risk. He heard good things about Kneeel, maybe they were good at retraining. Whumpee Barn was dreadful, not only with their shipping but lacked the ability to create a blank impressionable slate. They always left something desperate and quietly violent, ready to strike. Quite frankly he was scared of violent. Quietly, or otherwise. Calling him fragile would be an overstatement but out of his chair he'd be rendered stationary and if 49021 decided to wail on him he'd be an easy target.

"He wouldn't have a reason to." The man uttered his broken thought. He wouldn't abuse him you know. He planned to treat him, just about standardly. He couldn't think of much that the boy wouldn't be able to do, that he would be forbidden from. Going outside without him at his side, probably. Going through the fridge without permission. Watching television without permission. He could read! Books that Daniel provided and specifically handed to him.

He felt like he was moving too fast, getting way ahead of himself, he hadn't even ordered him yet. Fake shoppers didn't get the luxury of fantasizing. He went about the process of ordering, finalizing it his brain that this was actually happening. He had specific training in mind, mostly regarding how he should be handled. He could get around just fine on a wheel chair, but the thing is, he was extremely busy with work, or passion projects when wasn't working. He really was a busy body, pushing himself for no real reason other than that's how he liked spending his time. He didn't have the time to cook for himself, to tend to his plants, he felt like he wasn't managing the house as well as he could, he wanted someone who could do that for him.

He also wanted company and was sick of making conversation with nothing. He had friends but they rarely visited, always wanted to FaceTime. He hated FaceTiming. He wasn't the most confident in his appearance, especially after depriving himself from sleep because making his way to his bedroom was too much of an ordeal.

He folded his hands on his desk, looking over his filled out form, quite pleased with everything. He was going to be emailed by a respondent who'd look over his requests and have a conversation with him about how his disability impacts him and what they should be aware of. Oh, and they'd give him an estimated time of arrival.

Within the next twenty minutes he was greeted sweetly by an email from a Dab Grier. Daniel was surprised by the email because it didn't feel like a copy and paste. The way it read felt like it was written by someone fairly young, but don't mistake that for meaning it wasn't well written. He replied with more information about his legs, and his needs, and how he didn't want them to rush to make sure he was trained properly. Dab shot him an email less than ten minutes later like he was waiting for him. It made him feel heard, and like his money was in good hands.

He was satisfied getting off his computer that night and heading to bed, after getting the photos of his boy off the internet and saved to his phone of course. He just wanted to look at him some more, it wasn't weird. He would partially be his romantic companion, at least that's what they called it. Boytoy was more accurate really. Dan wasn't sure what he wanted out of the relationship but, being held would be nice honestly. Now that he was in bed he could help but fantasize about those arms around him. He suddenly had a pit in his stomach, a feeling of longing. He couldn't remember the last time he was held, it really had be a while huh. Since Seth. Since he tore out his heart with his huge fucking hands of his, and his strong grip. How he pierced him with his eyes as he said he couldn't do this anymore. How he kicked his chair away from the couch and called him pathetic. He rolled back as he walked out the door, taking none of his belongings, but still. Dan was pathetic, and it was scary. He almost regretted ordering help, he really was defenseless.

He couldn't think about that now, not before bed. Wallowing was detrimental to a good night's rest.

#whump #box boy universe #box boy #whump blog #pet whump #whumplr #whumpblr #oc: daniel boyce #oc: unnamed #oc: dab grier

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thosequeenboys · 4 years

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For the sake of autonomy (John Deacon x Family)

Summary/Author’s Note: This is a family drama and coming-of-age story, focusing on the familiar scenario of students returning home during holiday break and family relationships readjusting. The father is modeled after John Deacon, Queen’s bass player. The depiction of John’s family members is purely fictional. Any likeness or perceived likeness to his family – or their family dynamics - is unintentional and coincidental. Wishing everyone gentle and joyful holiday reunions! This is chapter 1! The title and topic were inspired in part by this article: Carl E. Pickhardt, Ph.D,. A Detachment Theory of Parenting Adolescents.Psychology Today, December 9, 2013.

Warnings: Depictions and emotions related to a difficult first semester away at college/uni, sibling rivalry, separation, parent-child relationships, cursing

Chapter 1

John ambled up the steps for the third time that day. This time there was nothing to carry upstairs, nor chores to be done. No need to make the trip, really. Everything was ready. With his wife Claudia and their middle son Mark at the market picking up some last-minute staples, he wanted just a few moments in that space. The room’s occupant, his youngest son Dan, was returning home soon having completed his first semester in college. As John ducked into Dan’s room, the mid-afternoon sun lit the wood floor to a golden hue, giving the room a warm glow. He smoothed the bed, recalling how the day before he had unfurled the striped blue sheets, warm from the dryer, tucking and smoothing them to remove all the creases. He had slid the crisp blue pillowcase over the pillow and plumped it.

Now, he sat down on the bed gingerly, eyeing the remnants of a childhood and adolescence: photos of friends and celebrities plastered the walls, some faded with age and light; souvenirs from family and class trips held their place in between favorite books in the bookcase. Old school notebooks, folders and other flotsam and jetsam of past academic and youthful endeavors lay scattered in piles on the dresser and desk surfaces. John took a deep breath, and a smile glossed over him as he warmly anticipated the room cluttered with new trappings of a college life. He wondered what that life encompassed and how his son was changing.

The front door opened below and he heard Claudia and Mark head into the kitchen. He took a deep breath, stood and smoothed the bed. He stopped into the bathroom and dug into a drawer on the vanity, retrieving and plugging in the nightlight. It couldn’t hurt, he figured, just in case Dan needed to get his bearings on this first trip back home, the symbolism not lost on him.

Then John proceeded downstairs to help with unpacking. His middle son Mark was in his senior year in college and had been home a few days, his exams having ended earlier than Dan’s as a first year.

His oldest son Chris was expected for dinner that evening to help ready the home for Christmas. Chris graduated a few years ago and was working as an analyst for a financial firm. It was a good job, and after learning the corporate ropes, he was now up for a promotion.

This was the happiest time for John. With the arrival of the holidays, his closest loved ones surrounded him and the house took on a refreshed and festive air. In a few days, the extended family would gather for Christmas. Past memories would be remembered and new ones created.

‘Well, we are set!’ Claudia said. “I’ll start lunch.”

John joined Claudia at the island counter and started to peel and chop the vegetables Claudia had placed next to him. They worked in tandem to prepare the meal, as Mark sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.

John checked his watch anxiously. Ten minutes to two. Any minute now. Mark eyed a crime story in which someone was robbed on the street and no one responded to the screams. He spoke about the Bystander Effect. John half listened; under different circumstances he would be fully engaged, but his eyes kept darting toward the window in anticipation. Suddenly, a vehicle pulled into the driveway. Immediately, John put down his knife and left the kitchen without a word, headed to the foyer and opened the front door.

“Well, good I got in a few days with Dad before the star of the show arrived,” Mark said bitterly.

“Oh, Mark, try to understand. Dan hasn’t been home in months. It’s his first semester away. Dad doesn’t mean to dismiss you.”

Mark resumed reading the newspaper, clearly annoyed.

The car came to a halt. Standing between the heavy wood door and the clear storm door, John watched the two occupants conversing in the front seat.

“Have a good break. Things will be better next semester. It gets easier,” Lily said soothingly from the driver’s seat. Dan and Lily had been friends in high school and now attended the same college. Lily was a year older.

Dan felt a rush of anxiety course through him at the mention of next semester, though he appreciated his older friend’s support. “Thanks, hope you have a good break too. I’ll see you in a month. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said. They hugged as Dan thanked her for the ride and got out of the car. Dan hoisted the suitcase and duffle bag out of the trunk as the door rose slowly and then slammed it shut.

The house door opened and John emerged. “Hi, Love, let me get that for you,” he said quickening his pace.

No, I got it.” Dan said. The car pulled away and he and his dad waved to Lily.

“Ah, laundry,” John said, eyeing he duffle bag, “I’ll take it. I know you didn’t have time to do it with your exams.” John moved toward Dan and tried to ease the duffle bag strap off of Dan’s arm, reaching out with his other arm to bring Dan in for a hug. “Don’t touch me. Please.” Dan said as he stepped back.

John hid his confusion and disappointment. He always shared an abundance of affection with his sons.

They walked side by side, “How was the trip?” John asked.

“Good.”

“ Lily? Nice she was there to show you the ropes a bit, yeah?”

“She’s good.”

John sensed tension between them and distance emanating from Dan. He tried to keep it light. He felt like he was dancing on the tip of a needle and not maintaining his balance very well. John held the door for Dan, and upon entering the house, Dan stopped and took in the home, enveloped and calmed by the familiarity. The living room was to the left and kitchen and dining room, to the right. Even if his eyes were closed, he could envision every item in each room: the carved wood birds on a side table, his mom’s hand-thrown pottery displayed on the mantle among graduation and family photos and his dad’s Gold Record plaques hanging above the fireplace. The walls of home were lined with framed prints from museum collections they had visited during their travels and some smaller original paintings and collages from local artists. Many lamps dotted the rooms, emitting warm and soothing light. Lamps with bronze and ceramic bases resided on tables. Others stood elegantly on the gleaming wood floors, their arms stretched over comfortable couches, easy chairs and the game table.

“Danny!” his mom joined him in the foyer, breaking his gaze. “Hi, Mom.” They hugged. “Come, have lunch,” she said as John headed into the kitchen. We made your favorites-chicken salad with dried cranberries, potato salad, fresh bread and brownies from…”

“Thanks, Mom,” Dan cut her off. “But I’m not hungry. I just want to be horizontal. I’m tired.” Dan said, as he peered into the kitchen where his brother Mark was gazing at the newspaper on the table, holding a sandwich on thick slices of bread.

Mark looked up. “Hey,” he said, trying not to be pissy in the first five minutes of his younger brother’s arrival.

“Hey, Mark. I’m going to lie down-see you later.” Dan called out, before he headed to the back of the foyer up the staircase clutching his suitcase and duffle bag.

John peeked out from the kitchen and looked at the figure climbing the steps, wanting to help him with the luggage, wanting even more to accompany him up the steps, tuck him gently into the carefully made bed and ruffle his hair. Instead, his eyes brimmed with tears and he willed his longing to subside.

Claudia must have read his mind. “Let him go, John,” she said softly. “He needs to rest. Give him time-and space. You remember what we have to do during this time.”

John nodded, Claudia’s words led him to remember the experiences of his two oldest sons. It was a transition marked by a parent’s excitement to see a child’s growth and newfound independence -- and the inevitable separation that comes from the child making his way in the world. The child’s reliance on his parents starts to slip away as autonomy emerges. The relationship noticeably shifts.

Dan entered his room, which had been cleaned and organized since he exited four months ago, leaving behind abandoned clothes and other things that didn’t make the cut for college in a whirlwind. He dropped his luggage and collapsed onto the bed, yanking down the neatly tucked covers. He tore off his sneakers, eased out of his jeans and flannel shirt and scooted under the blankets. As he stretched out under the soft sheets warming the cold spots, he watched the shadow of the bare winter trees dance against the wall, the low winter sun leaving orange-yellow squares on the wall, its finale before setting. He closed his eyes, and before he could form a thought or feel an emotion, he was asleep.

When Dan woke, the sun was long gone. The room was black, save for a sliver of hallway light shining through the door set ajar. He stretched, not ready to wake up, feeling disoriented. He heard footsteps on the stairs and suddenly the door opened, letting in bright light. He cringed and flipped toward the wall.“What time is it?”

“6:00,“ came the reply. “Did you have a good nap? Do you feel better?”

“Groggy…”

“How about some dinner? Steve’s here. He’s staying over to help get the house ready.“

“Ok, give me a minute.”

“Sure, Love,” came John’s response, as walked out and shut the door, trying to give Dan space, remembering what Claudia had said.

Dan flipped on his bedside light, threw off the covers and dressed slowly. He looked around the room, conflicted by wanting to be there and thinking he should want to be back at school in his dorm. He grabbed his toiletry kit from his suitcase, went to the bathroom, and threw cold water on his face as a first step to waking up.

He went down the steps, where the family was seated at the large kitchen table. His wise and sensitive oldest brother Steve rose to greet him.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, smiling, as Dan leaned in to hug him. Steve had been his rock during the last few months. The recipient of many late-night phone calls, Steve talked him through panic attacks about schoolwork, helped him to organize his study schedule, guided him through the intricacies of making new friends, shored him up as his confidence dipped and eased his frustration about how FUCKING HARD everything was in these ‘best years of his life.’ He wouldn’t have made it through the semester without Steve.

The two of them hugged tightly, and once again Dan let Steve take his weight and with it, all the emotions that hovered at the surface.

And an emotional grab bag it was: There was his desire to distance himself from the painful remnants of the semester, but a motivation to embrace his identity and life as a college student, however fraught it was. And he felt a tug to distance himself from his family, but also a pull to slip back in the comfort and caretaking he knew and was lucky to receive at home.

Steve and Dan broke apart and Dan looked away, concerned that his emotions might show. He felt his father’s eyes on him.

“Let’s eat!” John called, breaking his gaze from his sons, as he moved serving bowls and platters to the table and the three boys sat at the table, Mark entering from the hallway.

“How was your semester, Mark?” Steve asked, grabbing a platter of roast chicken, taking some and passing it to Dan.

“Great,’ Mark responded. “Made the Dean’s list again. Can’t believe it’s my last year. My frat brothers and I - we have a great time in the house. I’m starting an internship next semester at an engineering firm-really excited about that. And, Shawna and I are still dating. I’m taking her away after the holidays for a weekend. Yeah, overall, it’s great. I’m really gonna miss college though.”

Dan took some chicken and placed the platter on the table while trying hard not to roll his eyes. Everything came so easy to Mark: school, friends, girls. Dan looked down, focusing on his food, well, focusing on pushing it around. He prayed the discussion would not come around to him. Steve, of course, had his back, knowing what had transpired his first semester. And he felt he had pushed his dad away enough to create a barrier to discussion. Perhaps Mark had his back too, because he turned the conversation to global warming-not a cheery topic by far, but certainly a good distraction.

When Claudia added to the conversation, John looked at Dan seated next to him and quietly said, ‘Are you feeling ok? Can you eat a little, Love?” Dan raised his head and glared at his father. “Stop FUCKING calling me that!” he yelled. “And, you don’t need to watch me eat. I’ve been eating for four months without you.” He dramatically pushed his chair out and stood with his arms braced on the table and stormed off to the family room. “Danny, don’t use that language with your father.” his mother called after him, clearly upset.

Dan’s emotions created an explosion in that moment: Anger, sadness, anxiety, jealousy, for starters. He collapsed into a chair and clicked on the TV, turning up the volume, watching mindlessly, as his heart pounded.

Meanwhile John sat stunned at the table. “I don’t know what’s with him,” Claudia said. “I’ll speak with him.”

“Let me go, Mom,” Steve said, standing up and proceeding toward the blaring TV. He entered the room, shut the French doors gently and turned down the volume slightly wanting some background noise. He sat down in the chair next to Dan and leaned toward him.

Steve took a deep breath. “You know…you don’t have to be a complete asshole to him. He basically has a part-time job of loving you.”

“I didn’t ask him to take on that job. He’s always in my business, treating me like a child. Wanting me to…need him. Calling me that name he gave me when I was a baby.”

Steve swallowed, thinking about his response. “Well, Your birth changed him-brought him back. To us.” Steve said softly. “Look, he cares-he always has. He senses you’ve had a tough time.”

“Did you, did you tell him anything?” Dan asked nervously.

“No, of course not, but he knows you. And, sometimes it’s what you don’t say that says it all.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad to tell him what your semester was like. You’ll probably feel relieved, and he’ll be supportive.” Steve urged gently.

“Yeah right.” Dan huffed. “Like Mr. Perfect would understand. Mr. O levels and A levels and honors degree. Mr. Electronics Guru and World-famous musician and songwriter. Mr. Finance Expert and… UGH, Mr. Fucking Perfect. In Everything. I see where Mark gets his perfection. And you too, while we’re at it.”

Steve chuckled. “No one is perfect, and everyone-including me, Mark and Dad have had our challenges. Guess you don’t remember Mark’s first semester, when he was tasting freedom for the first time and partying too much? Almost flunked out. And, dad…well you don’t remember a lot of it, but he’s had some challenges emotionally….”

Steve switched the topic. “Give Dad a chance. It doesn’t have to be as a father. More as a coach, a friend, even. My relationship with him shifted when I went off to school. You know, it’s ok to need sometimes. We all go through the autonomy-dependency thing. It’s a process. These are tough years. No one goes through this period unscathed.”

Dan raised his eyes and glared at this oldest brother. “No.” he said stubbornly, turning his focus to the TV.

Ever-patient Steve was at this wit’s end. “Ok, now you do sound like a child. I want you to think about what I’m saying. At the very least, we all want to have a nice holiday. Please curb your anger, and stop being a dick to dad.” Steve rose and walked out, closing the doors roughly behind him, fighting to hide his own anger and frustration at his youngest brother as he walked back to the kitchen.

Dan listened to the doors rattling from the abrupt closing and the droning TV. He stewed in his potpourri of emotions. Eventually, he let his thoughts disperse. He realized that he had a choice. And, the issue wasn’t his dad, really. It was him. He knew Steve was right-his dad meant well and would be helpful and supportive. He had to move beyond feeling like a failure from this first semester. For now, he envisioned different scenarios to rejoin the family. He knew that he deep down, he wanted – and needed - to feel the connections - and to let himself be loved.

Tagging: @warriorteam1924 @deakysgurl @im-an-adult-ish

#john deacon #john deacon fanfiction #john deacon x reader #john deacon x oc #family drama #coming of age #college life #uni life #holiday break #family reunion #independence #autonomy #coming of age story #family life #adulting

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dramaphan · 4 years

Note

i just saw pictures and old posts of me from years ago and now i understand what dan is feeling with his old videos. people change so much even in only 3 years my perspective and how i am changed. but phil seems to not care that much about his cringy past (even just 2014) and honestly i respect that or maybe its just because he is still in it

I don’t think there’s a single person on earth who doesn’t cringe a little when they look back on older versions of themselves. Whether it’s Facebook memories, or timehop, or just looking through old photo albums, or yearbooks or whatever. Everyone has those moments of “oh god why would I do/say/wear that”

Most of us don’t quit the internet entirely, but hey. However you gotta cope with... being a person.

#ask

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mushroommouth · 5 years

Text

Growth isn't always linear

Author’s note:

Surprise! This isn’t a sequel. I’m still planning on taking my time with that one.

This is, however, a spinoff one-shot about Aaron shortly after Jake’s death. This one’s a little darker because… it’s about Aaron. I want to say that this isn’t meant to excuse Aaron for anything he did. What he did was wrong.

This is, however, an exploration of his character and possible redemption, but, as the title says, growth isn’t always linear.

CW: Death, implied animal death, implied animal abuse, implied and referenced child abuse

—

Aaron killed everything he touched. It’d been that way as long as he could remember.

The first thing that comes to mind is the Walkman. Aaron wanted to play with it so bad—Jake loved that stupid thing so much. So Aaron cried and cried until Donna told Jake to hand it over. When Jake refused, Donna snatched it from Jake’s hands and smashed it with a hammer.

“Then no one can have it.”

She dropped the pieces back in Jake’s hands. Jake ended up fixing it over time. It was held together with tape and whirled pathetically, bit it worked. For what it counted, Jake didn’t give up.

The second was an accident. Jake won a goldfish at the county fair, which his class attended on a field trip. He snuck it inside and began to set up the tank in his room. Aaron snuck in after him (as Donna took off all the locks in the house a long, long time ago). Jake froze and turned his head slightly, staring wide-eyed at his little brother in horror.

“Don’t tell Mom.”

That wasn’t something that even came to mind with Aaron. He instead ran up to the plastic tank, reaching for it with grubby fingers. Jake immediately held his hands out to block his little brother from reaching the tiny fish.

“No! No, don’t touch him. I’ve got to go get food and real supplies,” Jake looked back up to the door. “Just… I’ll be right back. Don’t tell Mom, and maybe you can help me name him or something. Just don’t tell Mom, and please don’t touch him.”

Aaron watched with a small grin as Jake dug up his wallet from its hiding place and walked out the door. Aaron looked at the fish tank, and back at the door. He wouldn’t TOUCH it, but Jake didn’t say anything about just watching the fish. So Aaron walked to the kitchen, grabbed some chips and walked back to Jake’s room. Aaron sat over the tank, peering in the top as he shoved his face with chips.

One fell in the tank and Aaron jumped. He looked over his shoulder, making sure Jake wasn’t back yet. Once satisfied Jake was still some ways off, Aaron shoved his hand in the tank to try and grab it. He didn’t mean to knock it over. Aaron tried to fix the situation but it was too late.

When Jake came home, he didn’t even seem surprised. Just crestfallen. Jake shoved the supplies under his bed and instead picked up the tank, looking sadly at the floating fish. Aaron felt his face heat in shame. Shame turned to anger.

“Mom wouldn’t have let you have it anyway!” Aaron cried before storming out of the room.

The third—and most damning—was Aaron’s brother himself.

Aaron had anger and aggression problems.

His elementary school teacher told Donna so in an impromptu parent-teacher conference.

“He doesn’t get along with the other kids. He keeps to himself at recess and tends to…use his hands instead of his words.” The teacher seemed sheepish, shrinking under Donna’s glare. “I talked to some other teachers found some highly-recommended therapists—”

“Are you saying I raised my son bad?”

Aaron looked up to see Donna stand up. She began screaming at the teacher and grabbed Aaron so tight that it left imprints from Donna’s nails. In the end, Donna had Aaron switch classes entirely. He remembers his mother making the teacher cry.

Aaron might not have had friends, but he had his brother. And Aaron had his anger and rage which only got worse as Aaron got older. Jake…got the brunt of that. More times that Aaron could count, he took out his aggression on his older brother, beating him red, black and blue. Donna simply turned away.

Well, she turned away until Jake finally left. And Aaron’s life turned into a living hell. Years turned into decades. Aaron grew up and nothing changed. Nothing ever changed.

He ended up finding where Jake ended up, years and years later. On a cold day, Aaron showed up on the doorstep. Luckily enough, Jake himself opened the door. Aaron couldn’t hide his smile, anticipation and rage making his heart race with glee.

“Miss me big brother?”

—

The car ride after Donna bailed him out was completely silent. Aaron felt sick, sitting in the backseat. Donna’s face was completely deadpan. Aaron forced himself to speak, cringing at the fact he sounded like a little kid.

“Mom? What’s going to happen to Jake?”

No response. Aaron swallowed, waiting a few minutes before trying again.

“Do you know what happened to him?”

No response. Donna didn’t even turn around.

“Are we- are we going to the funeral?”

With that, Donna slammed on the breaks, pulling the car over, swearing profusely.

“Why would we go to the funeral, Aaron? You killed him. You don’t belong there.” She looked up into the rearview mirror, watching Aaron curl in on himself. Donna sighed before speaking again. “Listen, it was bound to happen eventually. I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Aaron turned his head to look out the window, tears beading up. Donna rolled her eyes.

“Took him long enough anyway.”

—

Donna never fixed a problem. Whenever she faced something she didn’t like, she got rid of it and replaced it. She never had anything beyond plastic plants after she overwatered one when Aaron was little.

When Jake’s dad walked away, Donna got a new boyfriend.

When Jake didn’t turn out the way Donna wanted, she had Aaron.

When Jake died, three months later, Donna replaced him with a cat. She returned home from work the next day holding a box.

“One of my co-workers found this cat eating trash outside their apartment.”

Donna dropped a box into Aaron’s lap, causing Aaron to tense up. He opened it carefully. Big eyes simply glanced up at Aaron lazily in turn. Half of its long fur was matted down, especially around the stomach. It was missing an eye and an ear, though it was long-since healed over.

“Quit your moping.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s old, so no one will notice if it…disappears, anyway.”

Aaron cringed, looking back down at the cat. It simply leapt off of the box, stretching. He opened his mouth to speak but Donna interrupted.

“I’m out of town for work this week.” Donna continued. “Since you don’t, you know, have a job, I left a fifty on the counter for food or… whatever cats need.”

She picked up her duffel bag, looking over her shoulder at her surviving son.

“I’m taking the car. There better not be anything out of place when I get back, or I swear to God…”

And without a goodbye, she left.

—

Aaron sat on the floor next to his bed, eyeing the cat. He raised his hand to pet the cat, which in turn bit him.

“Ow! What the fu- ugh, you stupid little rat.” Aaron knocked the feline off his bed. It glared at him before stretching again as if it knew that was going to happen.

Aaron glared back, watching as it left the room.

And Aaron was alone again.

He stood up, looking around his room. It was messy, but devoid of any decorations. He never really had… any interests. His room reflected that. There was a college poster on the wall for some time, but after he dropped out, he ripped it down. The only picture remaining…

A shattered frame held a family photo. It was old—so old that it was taken by Aaron’s father. Jake was holding a screaming newborn Aaron as Donna was mid-lecture on how to hold the infant correctly. It was the only picture of Jake that remained hung up in the house.

Aaron swallowed a lump in his throat. Jake was gone, and it was his fault. Of course it was. He shoved his hands in his pockets, walking to the end of the hall to the long-since sealed door.

Donna finally re-installed the lock after Jake moved out. Well, not the correct one. Instead, a padlock stopped any entry to Jake’s room. What Donna didn’t know was that Aaron knew where the lock was. He dug into the soil of one of her plastic plants, providing an unused silver key.

With one swift move, Aaron unlocked his older brother’s door. He took a deep breath before pushing it open.

—

The room, just like the life he left behind, was just like how Jake left it. Music sheets were spread across the desk. The Walkman was there, too, as a paperweight of sorts. A layer of dust covered everything.

Aaron looked at the music posters that lined the walls, faded with time. He walked around the room, carefully not touching anything—until he tripped on something. He fell on the bed, a layer of dust shooting up. He sneezed a few times, rubbing his eyes until he decided to check what he tripped on.

It was a shirt.

Not just any shirt, but an early Problem Sons shirt. It was a plain white t-shirt with the band name written poorly in marker. Aaron swallowed a lump in his throat.

Problem Sons, huh?

Jake didn’t have problems. He didn’t know what problems were. Donna hated him, sure, but… the death itself haunted Aaron. What has kept him up since then was how loved Jake was. The kid was screaming, calling Jake ‘dad.’ Jake’s roommate—Dan, he thought—seemed to fall apart inside as soon as he saw Jake’s body. He only kept it (somewhat) together for the kid. Aaron was sure about that.

Jake was loved. Aaron didn’t know what that felt like.

So he snapped. He dug his fingers in the shirt, ripping it apart; the room felt like it was closing in. It was too much. Aaron stormed out of the room, returning with a bat. Jake might have been gone. But his presence wasn’t, and it had the nerve to mock Aaron.

He ripped the room apart, leaving no part intact. Dust and plaster hade the air hazy. Aaron screamed and cried until his throat was raw. His cries turned to wheezes as he slumped to the floor, curling into his knees.

Aaron really did it, huh. Jake was dead and it was his fault. He might have hated Jake, but he didn’t want this. He never wanted this—any of this. Aaron was unsure how long he spent on the floor of his older brother’s (now destroyed) room.

Something soft nudged his shoulder.

Aaron turned his head, wiping snot and tears to see the cat nuzzling him. It came up and licked the scruff of Aaron’s face. Aaron laughed a little and sat up. The cat took a step back, but Aaron scooped it up. After a moment of hesitation, the cat sunk into Aaron’s arms, purring loudly.

Aaron tensed and looked down at the cat in surprise.

“You’re like me, aren’t you?” He asked quietly. He lifted one of his own hands, the cat sniffing it cautiously before biting it again, this time much gentler. It—no, she. It was a girl cat, Aaron knew that much—was a little shit. Aaron laughed again before setting it down.

He knew what he had to do.

—

Within hours, the house was completely ablaze.

Aaron heard the sirens of firetrucks in the distance but didn’t want to take his eyes off of his handiwork just yet. Donna would be mad of course. There was no coming back from this. Besides, Aaron didn’t want to come back from this.

The house- his sanctuary and his prison- would be gone in a matter of minutes.

Aaron held the cat tighter, which squirmed slightly in his grasp to get more comfortable. He swallowed, unsure to laugh or cry. Instead, he nudged the cat with his face. The sirens were getting louder.

“Let’s find somewhere and finally start our lives. What do you say… Tom?”

The cat didn’t recognize her new name, but she seemed ready to go along with whatever. Besides, they had time—just the rest of their lives.

—

“Huh.” Dan Fuller set down the newspaper, pushing his plate of waffles out of the way. “Uh, Jake?”

“Hmm?” Jake asked as he took a sip of coffee. It immediately phased through him, splashing it on the chair and onto the floor. “Oh dammit.”

“Dammit!” Milo repeated with glee, smoosing his eggs with his hands.

Jake cringed. “No, no! Sorry. Milo—don’t say that. That’s a bad word. Your dad just made a mess.”

As Jake got up to get some paper towels (and a toddler fork for Milo), Dan cleared his throat.

“Um, did… you know your mother’s house burned down?”

Jake paused for a moment. His whole form shuddered for a second- just a second- glitching slightly. “Huh.”

“’Huh?’” Dan repeated.

“Was…” Jake cleared his throat, unsure what to say. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, but the house is beyond repair. They’re bulldozing the lot next week.” Dan said, watching Jake closely as he began to clean up the coffee. “Are you…okay?”

Jake seemed deep in thought but shook his head to clear whatever kept him so distracted.

“What? Oh, yeah. Good riddance, right?” Jake forced a dry laugh. He finished cleaning up the coffee and threw away the paper towels.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Dan asked hesitantly.

“Not really. How about we try this drinking thing again?” Jake smiled, turning his head so Dan could meet the corner of his eye. Dan chuckled slightly.

“Okay, but this time make sure you only have de-caff.”

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #I DONT EVEN HAVE WORDS JUST SCREAMIN #U STARTED AN AARON REDEMPTION EVEN HOW ARE YOU SO PERFECT #made for me #fics #ghost jake #aaron #donna #submission

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paradisobound · 5 years

Text

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 1

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count: 1.8k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing

Rating: Mature (for right now)

A/N: Ahh look at me. Starting another chaptered fic. Remember how I said a while ago that I hoped to have a fic to begin posting by Valentines Day? Well, this isn’t the fic. But I’ll take it lol I know I have a very bad track record lately of completing what I’ve started but I have 10k written on this fic already so I’m set for the next like five weeks which gives me plenty of time to finish the fic! Every one when I asked wanted this fic and I’m so glad because I’ve really grown to fall in love with it!

As always: I’m not an expert, nor a movie star or anything, so I’m not saying any of this accurate. I just thought this might be how it goes. But I hope you all enjoy it anyway! Happy reading!

Updates will be every Sunday at 1pm EST until I have the fic finished and then it’ll be twice weekly

**Masterlist | Read on Ao3**

“Dear Workers,

The BBC Studio will be closed for the next week to accommodate the filming of a new featured film starring Daniel Howell and Mimei Lake. During this time, you will have to work from home on any projects you may be in the middle of. A select few of you will be asked to work on the set as extras for the film. We’ll email those we selected by the end of tomorrow.

Hope this isn’t a hassle and apologies for any inconveniences.

Corporate”

****

“Did you read the new email?” Phil turned his head to his friend PJ sitting next to him in their office. “They’re actually closing down the whole building just to film a few scenes for one movie.”

Phil, coffee in hand and his laptop open to said same email, sighed. “It’s a Daniel Howell movie. Of course they’re shutting down the entire building.”

PJ rolled his eyes. Everyone knew of Daniel Howell. He was only the biggest actor in Hollywood right now. But that didn’t mean that everyone shared in on the fangirling when it came to his name being mentioned. “The BBC is gonna be untouchable all next week. I don’t even wanna know how many girls and guys are going to flock here to meet him.”

“He doesn’t do photos and autographs though?” Phil brought up, setting his mug on the table and shutting his laptop down. His work was nearly done anyway for the day.

“Still never stops the fans.” PJ says, tipping his head. “He’ll mention he’s in London on his Instagram or Twitter and then it’ll be over.”

Phil nodded. Yeah, that sounds pretty much correct. “Fair enough.”

“Who do you think they selected to work on set?” PJ asked. “I reckon they chose some of the interns because that they don’t have to pay them.”

“I hope it’s not me.” Phil says immediately. “God, the less I have to be here during this time, the better.”

“It’s gonna be impossible to even get here.” PJ adds. “They’re gonna block off all of the streets to accommodate Daniel’s massive trailer that he lugs everywhere.”

“I don’t even want to imagine.” Phil says. “I’d much rather just stay in my flat with Spike and work on my laptop.”

PJ nodded in agreement.

Just as PJ began to speak again, the door to their office opened and their coworker Gemma walked in, her expression giddy and a smile plastered on her lips. “Did you two see the email?”

Both PJ and Phil nodded.

“How are you both not more excited about this?” Gemma exclaimed. “Daniel freaking Howell is gonna be walking around our building! He could sit in your chair right now. Or use my office as a set. Or—”

“He’s just another person.” Phil interrupted her.

“But he’s not though!” Gemma shot back with a smile. “Oh, you two don’t get it.” She waved her hand and walked further into the office. She pulled out a chair at the desk next to Phil and plopped down.

“There isn’t much to get.” PJ countered. “He’s just a bloke who happens to be good looking and also a major celebrity.”

“So you do get it!” Gemma pointed out. “I really hope I’m one of the ones corporate selected to work on set as an extra. I would give anything to stand in the same room as Daniel Howell.”

“They’re probably just going to choose interns.” Phil says. “I doubt they’ll choose any of their paid employees.”

“I wonder if I email corporate if they’ll bump my name on the list and I can do it.”

Pj shrugged and tapped his pen against his forehead. “Doesn’t hurt if you really want to do it.”

“I’m steering clear of this building while he’s here.” Phil comments, picking up his now ice cold coffee mug and taking a sip, cringing at the taste of it.

“What do you have against Daniel Howell?” Gemma asks, folding her arms over her chest.

“He’s just another celebrity.” Phil says. “He’s pretentious and rude.”

“You don’t know that.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “It’s common knowledge.”

“What? That every celebrity is a dick?” Gemma asked, her voice clearly laced with tension. “Isn’t that a bit shallow minded?”

Phil shrugged. “Change my mind but until then, I’m gonna stand by it. I doubt any celebrity like Daniel Howell is down to Earth.”

Gemma scoffed. “Well, I for one think that it would be brilliant to work alongside him.”

Phil chuckled and took another sip of his cold coffee. He definitely didn’t want to work alongside Daniel Howell but he had to admit that it was endearing to see Gemma swooning over the actor.

Once Gemma left, Phil began to pick up his things and prepare to go home for the night. He stuffed his laptop in his backpack and then through in some of the folders he needed to complete the advertising project he was assigned to do for the BBC Radio 1 show.

He and PJ left the BBC at the same time and headed to the tube to go back to their flats. They lived in opposite areas of London but they saw each other often outside of work.

When Phil got to his flat and he opened the door with his key, he was immediately greeted by the excited yips of his puppy Spike. He was a ten month old Corgi that Phil adopted as a puppy. Spike kept him busy and less-lonely on nights where he wished he wasn’t thirty one and hopelessly single.

He bent down and scratched Spike’s belly as he rolled around on his carpet from excitement. Phil eventually stopped petting Spike long enough to go to the kitchen and check his food bowl and water. He knew his brother came over sometimes to let out Spike while he was at work so he sometimes fills up his food and water.

Today was one of those days. His food bowl was heaping over and his water was clean and clear. Martyn just came over not that long ago then. He made a mental note to text Martyn but in the mean time, he called Spike over to his door that lead to the courtyard and hooked a leash on his collar to take him outside one more time for good measure.

After being done, Phil let Spike go back into the flat. He immediately ran over and flopped onto his bed next to the couch and closed his eyes to take a nap. Phil sat down on the couch and looked over his phone, catching up on any notifications he might have missed while he was on his way home.

He saw a notification for an email and he sighed. It was probably some junk mail that some store was sending him. He got them a lot from Topman but to be fair, that’s where his entire wardrobe comes from.

He unlocked his phone and clicked on the email notification and waited to load it up. Once it did, he felt all breath leave his chest.

“To: Philip M. Lester.

Good Evening! If you have seen our emails from this morning you would have seen that the BBC will be closed for the filming of a feature film. Effectively 15th of January at 10pm until 9am on 25th of January, the BBC offices and building will be closed for filming.

However, after careful consideration, we would appreciate your help at the BBC during filming as a film extra. You should report to the BBC by half past 7 on the 15th of January.

If you have any question, email us back. This is part of your scheduled job and you will need to report when assigned.

Corporate”

Phil laid down on the couch and groaned.

Of course his luck would have it this way. Of fucking course this would happen.

***

“So we both got stuck coming didn’t we?”

Phil looked at PJ, his eyes still blurry from having to wake up so early. He didn’t even bother to put his contacts in today, he just threw on his glasses and said forget it.

“Guess so.” Phil says, standing beside PJ on the tube. Their stop was the next one. In the morning, they always ended up on the same tube before they got to the BBC. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“It already is.” PJ answers. “Did you go on Twitter this morning?”

Phil shook his head and pulled his phone out of his pocket. But he should have known he wouldn’t have any service while on the underground.

“It was a Twitter moment that Daniel Howell was spotted in London about to begin filming. He also tweeted, in true form, that he was going to be in London for a few weeks.”

“Oh great.” Phil said, rolling his eyes. “So what you mean is that the BBC is gonna be like impenetrable force?”

“Yep.”

Phil sighed and the tube stopped, the doors opening. They stepped outside and wandered through the crowds to the exit. Once they walked out of the tube station, it was over. They saw the crowds beginning already. Hoards of teenagers and even some adults all screaming and holding signs behind a barrier of police.

“Oh my gosh.” Phil exclaimed. “This is absolute madness!”

“Well, here we go, Lad.” PJ said, hooking his arm with Phil’s and yanking him across the street to the main entrance of the BBC.

They were nearly there when they were stopped by police, asking what they were doing. As soon as they both flashed their BBC badges, they were let inside to even more madness going on.

People were running around everywhere. There were sections of the building completely taped off and there were offices on the first floor that were being blocked by people in front of the door.

They continued walking inside and were greeted by a woman with a clipboard. “Can I get your names?”

“PJ Ligouri.”

“Phil Lester.”

The woman looked over the clipboard and smiled and looked at them both. “Welcome! If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to where you need to be.”

Just as they were about to walk and follow the woman, loud cheering and screaming began behind them, just outside the building. Looking out the door, Phil could see him.

Next Chapter

#Phan #phanfic #Phanfiction #au #famous!dan #moviestar!dan #normal!phil #princesslexi763fics

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 6 years

Text

Love Yourself (Chapter 15)

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: 8k story words: 113.3k (so far) chapter: 15/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: as always, i love @auroraphilealis very much and appreciate all the time she spends editing for me.

also: before you send me an ask about using a read more, i did, they just don’t always work on mobile and there is nothing i can do about it :( take it up with tumblr lol

Dan woke up face down in his bed the next morning, unable to fucking move. He felt like he’d been run over by a goddamn train. In fact, he was pretty sure there wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t hurt.

Oh my god, this is definitely what death feels like.

He needed water. And coffee. And maybe some carbs.

“Addieeeeee,” Dan called weakly, the sound of his own voice aggravating his head. There was no response — not that he really expected there to be one. He had no way of knowing if Adaline was awake yet, and even if she was, his voice probably didn’t carry as far as the spare bedroom.

Using all of his willpower, Dan shoved his hand under his pillow, blindly feeling around for his phone. When his fingers finally found it, he pulled it far too close to his face and cracked one eye open to look at the screen.

Overnight, his phone had blown up. Frankly, it was a surprise that the vibrations beneath his pillow hadn’t woken him up and it was probably a testament to just how heavily the alcohol had knocked him out. Dan ignored all of the notifications, though, instead opening the phone app and pressing Addie’s name.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Adaline greeted him way too cheerfully.

“Uggggh,” was all Dan managed to say — and it was more of a groan than a word. Adaline laughed so loudly that Dan could hear her in the next room over almost as well as he could on the phone. “Come here,” he mumbled.

“You’re bloody insane, Daniel.” The phone went silent halfway through Adaline’s laughter.

Knowing that Adaline was heading his way, Dan tried to force himself to roll towards the door, determined to look at least a little like a functional adult. He wasn’t particularly successful, though — he only made it halfway to his side before the excruciating pain of his hangover stilled him. Dan shut his eyes again, determined to close out the world.

Good enough.

He didn’t have to wait long before he heard his door being pushed open, and light pitter patter footsteps across his floor. There was nothing, though, that could have prepared him for the sudden jolt of the bed from Adaline literally jumping on it, landing on her knees near Dan’s torso.

“Fucking hell, Addie,” Dan grumbled, his slight progress towards rolling onto his side having been lost, the force of the bed shaking inadvertently rolled him back onto his stomach.

“Awww, look at you and your hungover ass,” Adaline cooed loudly, with zero respect for Dan’s feelings or headache.

“No one likes you,” Dan murmured bitterly into his pillow. Adaline jumped again, her knee actually knocking against Dan’s ribs this time. “Please stop that,” Dan reached out with every ounce of energy he had and caught her shin.

Even though his grip was nowhere near strong enough to hold her in place, Adaline stopped bouncing and came to rest on her calves, leaning her face down close to his head. “Sanka, you dead?” she asked.

“Ya, mon,” Dan managed to mumble back.

It was a long-standing inside joke between them, a reference to a movie they’d watched constantly growing up. Adaline had originally texted Dan it, with absolutely no follow up, when he was seventeen and out way past his eleven o’clock weekend curfew. He’d been rather drunk at the time, and flirting heavily with someone that he was pretty sure he was going to go home with — both facts that he didn’t want to disclose to his twelve year old sister — but he had taken a moment to write back ya mon =] and apparently that was enough. Without Dan even asking her to, Adaline had covered for him. Ironically, she’d told their parents that Dan’s friend had irresponsibly gotten drunk, and Dan had to take care of them because he was the only sober one — a cover story that she’d texted him in the dead of the night so he knew to go along with it. The next morning, he was fortunately able to pass off his small hangover as sheer exhaustion from helping his “immature friend” get through the night.

And since then, Sanka, you dead? had just become a thing between him and Adaline. If they went too long between talking, or one of them was supposed to hear from the other and didn’t, communication always started with a simple Sanka, you dead? — sometimes even reduced to a quick sanka?

Adaline prodded him in the shoulder, pulling Dan out of the near-slumber he’d fallen back into. “Seriously, bro, wake up.” She moved her finger to his cheek, poking him a few times. “Are you really that hungover?”

“Are you really not hungover?” Dan croaked back, barely audible.

“No, Dan,” Adaline laughed. “Unlike you, I’m not an old man.” She poked Dan in the face again before adding, “also I had one less drink than you, which can’t have hurt.”

“I hurt.” Dan turned his head just enough so that Adaline could see he his pout.

Adaline shifted, sitting cross-legged near Dan’s waist, evaluating him with humored eyes. Dan didn’t particularly appreciate her judgment. “Aren’t rockstars supposed to be, like, living the life?” she asked with a small laugh. “You know, doing cocaine every night and shit?”

“Are you really saying you’d rather me be coked-out right now?” Dan looked at her incredulously.

“No, I’m just saying that all things considered, a hangover seems like it’s on the minor end.”

“It doesn’t feel minor,” Dan whined, shoving his face back into his pillow.

“Poor Bear,” Adaline humed, with a not-so-subtle mocking edge to her voice. “What will make you feel better?”

“Coffee,” Dan mumbled into his pillow. “And a crumpet.”

“I don’t think you have either of those in the house. I tried and failed to have breakfast.”

“Wallet,” Dan gestured vaguely towards his floor where he was pretty sure he’d shed his pants last night — or rather, early this morning. The bed shifting was Dan’s only indication that Adaline had gotten up and followed his vague pointing. “Go downstairs to B ‘n G and get us something.”

“Ooh,” Adaline sounded intrigued. “Can I get chips from the place across the street?”

“Ad, you can buy the London Eye for all I care, just bring me a fucking crumpet.”

“Needy much?” Adaline mumbled as she left the room, but even Hungover Dan could hear the sarcasm in her voice.

The lure of sleep was tempting, and Dan nearly gave in. But when he closed his eyes, he was haunted by the notification-filled screen of his iphone and he needed to know what all of the notifications were.

Dan fished his phone back out from under the covers and swiped down, looking at the summary of his messages. There were two missed calls from an unknown London phone number, but no voicemail. Must not have been that important. There was a notification from twitter, too. From what Dan could see from the preview, it looked like Phil had retweeted Dan’s tweet at… one thirty in the morning.

What the fuck had he tweeted again?

Dan hadn’t exactly blacked out last night, but, well, the last hour or two of the night were definitely a bit fuzzy. He remembered coming back to the table with a final round, and insisting that he tweet a picture of him and Phil — which, in hindsight, Dan had no recollection of what that picture really had been. At the time, he had thought it was pretty tame, but in the past, Dan had thought some pretty risque things were tame when he was drunk. Although — Adaline had taken it, so it couldn’t have been that bad… right?

And after the photo, they’d drank some more. But what exactly had happened? Dan couldn’t quite remember. He tapped on the twitter notification from Phil, hoping that the photo would jog his memory.

@AmazingPhil: *my* fave lad is at it again <3 RETWEET: @danielhowell: your fave lads are at it again @AmazingPhil [picture]

Dan flushed, both at what Phil had tweeted and at the memories that flooded back.

Flashes of what they’d done after that tweet came to Dan. He had no real recollection of what they’d talked about. He did, however, remember inching closer and closer to Phil throughout the night, he remembered tucking his head into the crevice of Phil’s neck, he remembered kissing Phil’s cheek, and he remembered —

Oh fuck.

He remembered telling Adaline that he wanted to go home with Phil. And as best as Dan could remember, Phil had been sitting right next to him when he’d said it.

Phil had drank just as much as Dan had, though. Maybe Phil didn’t remember — for all Dan knew, Phil could be extremely oblivious to everything while intoxicated. Maybe Drunk Dan’s graceless attempts to be secretive had been just enough to hide his actions from Drunk Phil.

Probably not. But maybe.

Dan swiped back down on his phone, looking at the rest of his notifications. There were three unread messages from Phil. One that came in at half past midnight, and two that had come in that morning.

Whatever they were, Dan wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with them. He was cringing too hard from his own drunken behavior that he couldn’t possibly stand to open the messages. If he ignored them, maybe they’d go away and the consequences of his actions wouldn’t be real.

Dan shoved his phone back under his pillow, so far away that it clunked against the headboard. Determined to ignore it as best as possible, Dan shifted down the bed until his head was laying where his butt normally was and his feet were hanging far off the bed.

There.

Now, whatever had happened last night, whatever Phil had texted him, couldn’t touch Dan. He was safe down at the bottom of the bed and the world could just fuck the fuck off.

Dan must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing he knew, Adaline was perched on his abandoned pillow, waving something buttery and something coffee-y over his head.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she sang lightly, knocking something soft into his shoulder.

Dan flipped the covers off his face and looked up, his eyes hungrily landing on what Adaline had in her hands.

“Gimme,” Dan begged quietly.

“Sit up, silly, and you can have it.”

With every ounce of strength he had, Dan pushed himself into a cross-legged position across from Adaline, who was mirroring his position, leaned against the headboard with a box of greasy-looking chips in her lap. Dan immediately made grabby hands, reaching out to take whatever she’d brought him.

“Geez, geez, here.” She passed him a bag and a small to-go cup. “One crumpet, one triple espresso.”

Dan took a tentative sip of the coffee — god, he was dehydrated. But more than that, he desperately needed caffeine, so he powered through. He waited until he’d swallowed a few gulps to look back up at Adaline.

“So,” he asked tentatively, “On a scale of one to ten, how much did I embarrass myself last night?”

Adaline giggled, shoving chip in her mouth and looking at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe a seven?”

“That’s it?” Dan asked skeptically.

“Well, you didn’t throw up, so there’s minus one. And you didn’t offend anyone, so there’s minus another point. Plus, your drunk tweet was highly acceptable and actually cute, so there’s minus another.”

“But with Phil…” Dan trailed off.

Adaline laughed loudly and freely — that wasn’t a good sign. “You’re fucked there, mate. A full ten out of ten on that scale.”

Dan dropped his bagged crumpet to the bed, leaning forward until his forehead collided with Adaline’s ankle.

“Was it really that bad?” he asked gravely.

“I mean… well, maybe.” Adaline sounded pitying, which wasn’t overly promising. “But he was just as gone and embarrassing as you, so you’re fine.”

Dan peeked up slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Adaline said, tugging on his chin slightly so he sat upright again, “Phil seems just as hopelessly head over heels for you, so all of the humiliating shit you did?” Dan’s cheeks colored red at the reminder.” Yeah, he was just as bad.”

“Hmm.” Dan tore open the bag and took the crumpet out, nibbling off a small bite. Carbs, thank god. He thought back, trying to focus his mind on Phil’s actions last night — he remembered Phil’s hand landing on his leg at some point, he remembered Phil helping Dan put his coat on, he remembered Phil drawing Dan in close on the cold pavement.

“He texted me,” Dan blurted out.

“Oh did he, now?” Adaline didn’t sound surprised. Dan nodded vigorously, immediately regretting it due to the amplified pounding in his head. “And what did Sir Philip say?”

“I don’t know.” Dan turned back to his crumpet, peeking up at Adaline bashfully.

Adaline looked at him like he was ridiculous. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I didn’t read them. I was too nervous.”

“Oh my god, Daniel James Howell, who is the teenager here?” Adaline rolled her eyes, not waiting for a response from Dan. “Where’s your phone?”

“Under your ass.”

Adaline didn’t question him — she’d known Dan too long to question anything, probably. She merely leaned forward on her hands and pulled Dan’s pillow out from under her, plucking his phone off the bed.

“Passcode?”

“Twelve-fourteen,” Dan answered without thinking, breaking off another bite of crumpet.

“One two one four…” Adaline mumbled as she punched the digits. “What’s the significance of that?”

“The day I signed my record deal,” Dan said through a mouth full of food.

“Oh, look at that, Danny boy is a little sap.” Adaline peered up from the phone, taunting him with a smile.

“Fuck off. Don’t pretend your passcode isn’t something stupidly personal, too,” Dan complained, kicking out and nudging her calf with his foot. “What did Phil say?”

“Hmmm,” Adaline hummed as she navigated his phone, leaving Dan in desperate suspense. “He texted you last night, looks like when he got home maybe. He said he had a nice time and that it was nice to meet me and that you’re really pretty.”

“Wait, really?” Dan asked, surprised. He lowered his crumpet from his open mouth, staring at Adaline in disbelief.

“Really, really,” Adaline smirked.

“All of it?” Dan tried to reign in his giddiness, sure that Adaline was fucking with him. “He called me pretty?”

Adaline looked at Dan, amused and disbelieving. “Of course, you dipshit. That kid thinks the damn sun shines out of your ass, he obviously thinks you’re pretty.”

“Oh.” Dan felt his cheeks flushing and ineffectively tried to hide behind his coffee cup.

“You’re such a fucking dork,” Adaline mumbled under her breath. “Do you want to know what he said this morning?”

“I don’t know, is it terrible?”

“What do you mean is it terrible?” Adaline asked, her tone belieing the fact that she clearly thought Dan was an idiot.

“I don’t know, like, did he call me out for being drunk and dumb and coming on too strong?”

“Dan, he was plenty drunk and dumb and came on plenty strong himself, you weren’t alone, okay?” Dan cheeks, which were already flushed, felt like they grew impossibly hotter. He nodded his head dumbly, hoping Adaline would continue. “So he texted you an hour ago saying please dear god tell me you’re as hungover as I am? And then he texted you again twenty minutes ago saying — oh.”

“Oh, what?” Dan demanded, dread washing through him. Had Phil remembered how much of a drunk mess Dan had been last night? What if Phil changed his mind — or worse, Dan had read too much into Phil’s feelings for him?

“Er…” Adaline squirmed a bit. Dan could feel the knot in his stomach tightening. “Just remember that you were drunk, and were being suuuuuuper forward, and kind of hard to reign in last night.”

“Oh god, what?” The fear in Dan’s veins rushed faster. What the bloody fuck had he done last night?

“Well, I’d had a bit to drink too, and at one point I just flat out told Phil that I was there to babysit you and gave him a big lecture about how you needed time and space.” Adaline’s expression made it clear that she was wary of Dan’s reaction, which was fair. A lot of people — most people, probably — would be pissed if someone else was that brutally honest with their crush on their behalf, but Dan just felt a wave of affection.

Phil had needed to know. He’d needed to know that all of Dan’s flirting, and looks, and comments weren’t meaningless. Dan needed him to understand Dan not immediately making a move wasn’t because Dan didn’t want to. And as embarrassing as it was, Dan even kind of wanted Phil to know that Dan thought he was different, that he was special.

So Adaline taking the initiative to tell Phil, especially when Dan hadn’t known how to, was really just a blessing in disguise.

“You’re a good egg,” Dan whispered, offering her a small smile and ruffling up her hair.

“I know, I know. I’m amazing,” Adaline joked, sounding relieved at Dan’s reaction.

“No, seriously,” Dan insisted. “I don’t think I would have ever gotten the guts to say that to Phil and he needed to hear it. He needs to know that I’m in, but I just need, well, time.”

Adaline shrugged, laughing a bit. “Glad to help. I figure, Drunken Overprotective Dan has come to my defense enough that Drunk Overprotective Addie probably owes him a few favors.”

“So what did he say?” Dan asked, suddenly remembering that the point behind this conversation was that there was another message from Phil. A message that had made Adaline hesitate, and confess she’d done last night.

Adaline took a deep breath before reading. “He said that he was sorry if he crossed any lines last night and that he understands that you need time and that he’s there when you’re ready and he hopes you can be friends in the meantime.”

Dan’s mind whirled at all everything Addie was saying, not necessarily because of the amount, but because of the content. All morning, Dan had been worrying that he’d made a drunken ass of himself, that he’d been the one out of line last night. But Phil’s hungover bum was laying in his green and blue sheets, feeling nervous about the same thing. Unlike Dan, though, Phil was concerned that Dan might not want to be friends, and Dan couldn’t let Phil think that for even a second more.

He lunged forward, swiping his phone out of Adaline’s hands so that he could see the messages for himself. Now that he knew what they were, he wasn’t too humilated to read them.

Phil [12:28am]: I had a realky good time tonigjt an it was great to meet youur sister. Your’e very pretty night noght dear

Phil [9:14am]: Please dear god tell me you’re as hungover as I am?

Phil [9:57am]: Dan, I’m really sorry if I crossed any lines last night. I understand and respect the fact that you need time after Isabella and I want you to know that I’m here when you’re ready. Until then, I really hope we can still be friends xx

Dan typed back a message, hitting send before he let himself think over it — or worse, let Addie read it. Adaline was the queen of playing by imaginary dating rules, and if she saw what Dan was typing before he sent it, she’d surely make him change it.

Dan [10:22am]: i’ll always want to be friends with you, phil. no matter what

Fuck that came out even sappier than Dan had meant for it to. Maybe he should have let Addie look at it, after all. Embarrassed, he quickly tacked on another message.

Dan [10:22am]: why am i so hungover wtf

There. That was more casual, right? Not too casual, hopefully. Dan didn’t want to come across like he was avoiding talking about the topic of, well, them.

“Awww is baby brother texting back?” Adaline teased. Dan had barely pressed send on the second message before the phone was being ripped out of his hands.

“Addie, what the fuck! Swiper no swiping!” Dan launched himself towards his sister to steal his phone back, but was easily defeated. She held the phone just far enough out of reach that he would have had to kneel up to reach it, and god knows he wasn’t capable of doing that at this moment in time.

“Let’s see what you’re saying to your boyfrieeeend.”

“Stop calling him that, he’s not my boyfriend.” Dan’s hand was still limply reaching out for his phone, but he’d resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get it back unless Adaline gave it to him, or he mustered the energy to crawl to his knees to grab it back.

“Yet,” Adaline said simply, keeping the phone out of Dan’s reach but tilting it enough that she could see the screen. “God, bro, do you have no chill?”

“What? What do you mean?” Dan asked, alarmed. It had been a long time since he’d started dating someone, and he hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Louise that he sucked at it. His hatred — and slight ineptitude — when it came to dating, to playing the game, was at least part of why he was so adamant about monogamy.

“I’ll always want to be friends with you, Phil,” Adaline read back, her voice several octaves higher than normal, “No matter what!” She stuck her tongue out, making a gagging noise. “You’re disgusting and I hate — jesus fuck, you double texted, too.”

“So!” Dan exclaimed. He wanted to defend himself, but to do that he needed energy. “Phil triple texted!” he whined back.

“I guess you’re right…” Adaline trailed off, tossing him his phone back. Dan caught it gratefully.

“Do you think I need to, like… play it more cool or something?”

Adaline snorted. “I think playing it cool is well out the window after last night, don’t you?”

“I mean, yeah. But like,” Dan drank the remainder of his coffee as he tried to find the right words. “Like, do you think I should chill out on the texting him and seeing him all the time thing?”

Adaline stared at him contemplatively for a bit longer than Dan was comfortable with. He squirmed under her gaze, wishing he still had coffee or food left, just so he had something to do with his hands.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she finally said quietly. “I don’t really know the protocol for when you’re already head over heels for someone and are trying to wait because of some arbitrary thing.”

“It’s not arbitr—” Dan tried to interrupt, but Adaline cut him off.

“Sorry, sorry, that was the wrong word.” She rolled her eyes endearingly.

Dan twirled his phone between his fingers, his hangover finally lifting just enough that movement wasn’t painful. “You don’t think I’m being insane, right?”

“I always think you’re insane. How so, specifically?”

“By waiting. With Phil, I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I think that it’s something I’ve never seen from you and I think that it’s good. Tbh, I’m still kinda shocked that you aren’t dragging me or Louise to a bar to be a wingman so you can find someone to fuck while you wait.”

“I couldn’t do that to Phil,” Dan said honestly, shrugging slightly.

“Yeah,” Adaline agreed. “And that’s what’s different. I like it. This whole trying to keep it in your pants thing is a good look on you.”

As complimentary as Addie’s words were, there was a hint of laughter to them that Dan couldn’t overlook. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“You mean the fact that you train’ed me in so that you wouldn’t fuck your crush? No. Never. I’m talking about it in my speech at the wedding.”

“We’re not —”

“Dating, I know, I know.” Her lips curled into a smile. “Yet.”

Yet.

Dan’s phone dinged in his hands, drawing both of their attention down.

“You deal with that, I’m going to get dressed. And so are you. And then you are going to hold up your promise to do something fun with me today.” Adaline flicked him on the nose, hopped off the bed, and trailed out of the room, pulling the door shut behind herself.

Dan waited until the door clicked to unlock his phone and read what Phil wrote.

Phil [10:36am]: Because we drank hardly any water and bad news bears, but hangovers just get worse the older you get.

Dan smiled stupidly down at his phone. Phil was just so goddamn cute. It didn’t take Dan long to craft a response — he’d decided that Adaline’s permission to not follow the cool rules of dating meant that he could just say the first thing that came to his mind.

Dan [10:38am]: great now i’m thinking about my inevitable death, thanks for that

Staring at his phone, Dan crawled out of bed and stumbled over to his wardrobe. He stared at the little delivered message, willing it to change to read. Jesus, he didn’t even know if Phil had read receipts on, and Dan was staring at his phone like a fucking schoolkid.

Forcefully, Dan sat his phone down on his dresser, and determinedly turned his attention to finding an outfit for the day. His fingers trailed across the hangers as he tried to decide what to wear. For a second, he hovered over Phil’s jumper, briefly considering pulling that on, but he’d endured far too much taunting from Adaline already and decided he didn’t need to add to it.

Instead, he settled on wearing a stupidly expensive, but amazing Alexander McQueen sweatshirt that read hissing at the sun, because he felt like it really fit his hungover aesthetic.

Dan had one leg in and one leg out of his jeans when his phone went off. Eager to see if it was Phil, Dan tried to rush back over to his dresser, totally forgetting that he wasn’t really in his jeans yet, and nearly tripped over himself. He caught himself on his dresser at the last minute, cheeks burning red in humiliation despite there having been no one there to witness his mistake, and picked up his phone to read the message.

Phil [10:44am]: You’re a dork

Dan typed back a response without thinking, quickly pressing send.

Dan [10:45am]: but i’m your dork

It took a minute for what Dan had said to really sink in, but when it did. Dan nearly dropped his phone.

Fuck.

Even considering that he’d given up following the cool rules of dating, Dan knew that was too much.

“ADALINE.” Dan screamed, kicking off his jeans because lord knows he didn’t have the emotional capacity to wrangle on skinny jeans at that moment. “ADDIE. I FUCKED UP, GET OUT HERE.”

Dan tore down the hallway, coming to a halt in front of the closed guest bedroom door. He raised his fist up and pounded frantically on it.

“ADS. ADDIE. FUCKING HELL. OPEN UP. JES—”

The door opened suddenly, the momentum of Dan’s hand against nothing sending him toppling forward. Adaline ducked out of the way just in time, letting Dan fall gracelessly to the floor.

“What the fuck did you do now?” Adaline asked, hands on her hips, but a knowing smirk on her face. From the ground, Dan helplessly offered up his phone, burying his face in his hands as soon as Adaline had taken it from him.

“Good lord, Daniel. I leave you alone for five fucking minutes.” She laughed. Dan peeked his eyes between his fingers to look up at her. Her eyes were lit up with mirth as she stared back down at him.

Dan groaned into his hands, rolling over to lay face down on the floor. Adaline nudged him in the side with the tip of her foot. “Dan?” nudge “Daaaan?” nudge “DannielllI?” nudge nudge.

“Leave me alone to wallow in my misery,” Dan mumbled.

Two strong, sure hands scooped under his arm, pulling him backwards until he was seated on his calves. “No. You are going to go put some bloody trousers on, and I’m going to finish brushing my damn hair, and then we are going to go to the shops and make the people think that we are going to buy horribly expensive things, and then disappear when they turn around.”

It was a game they’d played since they were young. They’d go into the fanciest shops, and pretend to be really, truly interested in something unbelievably expensive, and then they’d duck out when the salesperson disappeared for a moment. It had only grown more entertaining as Dan gained fame — salespeople were suddenly much more inclined to think that two young kids were going to drop thousands of pounds.

Okay, so, they were dicks.

But at this point, their little game had resulted in Dan actually spending significant money before — the fucking two hundred pound McQueen sweatshirt he was currently wearing was proof of that. Karma had made him spend enough money that he didn’t feel too poorly about it.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, pushing himself to his feet. He held his hand out for his phone expectantly.

“Oh, no!” Adaline reprimanded. “You’ve lost the rights to having this alone. I’ll hold on to this from now on.”

“I know I should hate you for that, but I don’t,” Dan laughed, leaving Adaline’s room to finish getting dressed. Dating had never been Dan’s talent. Nor had controlling himself around Phil. And now that the two of those were coming together, he was a downright disaster. Really, it was for the best that Adaline was trying to instill some sense of control in him — hopefully he could make it last when she went home.

Back in his room, Dan pulled on his jeans for a second time, this time without the distraction of his bloody phone. He knew he’d probably tweet some picture today, since he was going out with Adaline, so he tried his best to tone down the deathly hungover look. He patted some eye cream under his eyes, and rubbed a dab of moistuizer into his face. It helped him look a little less dead, at least.

Dan was fiddling with his hair in his bathroom mirror when Adaline came prancing into his room. She hopped up on the counter, staring at him impatiently until Dan turned his attention to her.

“What?” he asked impatiently.

“Loverboy texted back,” she said with a smirk.

Dan let his forehead fall against the mirror, probably ruining the careful arrangement of his mop of curls, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “What did Phil say?”

“He’s cute, he likes you.”

Dan shot back, standing upright and staring at his sister. “Really? He wasn’t, like, totally freaked out?”

“No,” Addie giggled. “Here, you can read. Don’t press send on anything you type, though. I don’t trust you.”

Warily, Dan took the phone from her. Just because Addie was giggling about whatever Phil had said, did not mean that it was fine. She’d been known to take too much pleasure in his agony before. Gathering every ounce of courage he had, Dan tilted the screen to face him, reading the messages.

Phil [11:03am]: Yeah :)

Phil [11:05am]: So how are you dealing with your hangover?

Dan’s eyes flickered up to the time. 11:08. “Adaline!” He whacked her ankle. You let me stew in worry for five whole minutes?”

“Sorrrry, bro, I had things to do other than manage your love life.”

“That’s literally the whole reason you’re in town,” Dan deadpanned.

“Trust me, I remember.” Adaline rolled her eyes. “Now type something back so I can read over it first.”

Dan drew his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down with a bit more force than intended. He wanted to say something funny, something entertaining. After everything so far, he needed to not sound too desperate, but he didn’t want to sound aloof either. He typed and backspaced, typed and backspaced. Hopefully Phil didn’t have their conversation opened, because if so, he’d see how fucking long it was taking Dan to type an answer to what was frankly a very simple question. It took five tries, but he finally came up with a draft he was happy with. Dan passed his phone to his sister. She read it over, and pressed send for him.

Dan [11:12am]: i sent addie out for rations aka coffee and carbs and once that works its magic we are going to venture out in the world because i promised to do something fun with her today since she came all the way into the city

No point in pretending Adaline was here for anything else, now. Addie handed him his phone back, and Dan typed a second message. He turned the phone back to Adaline. “Flirty or too much?” Dan asked.

“Flirty, definitely.” Adaline nodded. “You can send that.”

Dan [11:13am]: what about you, old man?

Adaline jumped off the counter and headed for the door, taking Dan’s phone with her. “Now, stop obsessing over your hair and let’s go.”

Dan crinkled his nose at her and ran a pump of mousse into his hair, adding a hint of bounce to it, before calling it good and following Addie out of the room.

Adaline was waiting for him in the lounge, scrolling through her own phone.

“Took you long enough,” she said when he entered the room. “You took longer than me to get ready.”

“I’m still kind of hungover, leave me be,” Dan grumbled.

“Never. I’m gonna call us an uber since it’s cold as tits outside.” Adaline tapped around on her phone for a moment before looking back up. “Wait, should I have them drop us off at some uni first? So we can take a picture for mum or whatever?”

Dan shrugged. “Seems like a poor use of our time since I’m sure she’ll find out why you really came sooner or later.”

“True. Straight to the shops then!” Adaline chucked him his phone. “You got a call from a random number, btw. I took the liberty of ignoring it for you.”

“Definitely the right choice.” Dan unlocked his phone and, sure enough, there was a miss call — from the same phone number as earlier, weirdly. But still no voicemail. There was a text from Phil, too.

Phil [11:17am]: Unlike you, I don’t have anyone I can make bring me food, so I’m curled up in bed dying alone with Buffy.

Poor Phil, Dan thought. If Addie hadn’t already called the uber, Dan probably would have suggested that they bring Phil a surprise snack. But it was fine, hopefully Dan would have plenty of opportunities to spoil Phil in the future. He decided to ignore that part of the message, focusing on the other half of what Phil had said.

Dan [11:29am]: ...the vampire slayer or a secret girlfriend?

He was joking, mostly. He knew Phil wasn’t actually seeing anyone, but, well, a bit of reassurance was always nice.

Dan followed Adaline down to their car when it arrived, continuously checking his phone. She was texting someone too — which was probably something Dan should ask her about, now that his drama was dying down. But since she was wrapped up in her phone, Dan didn’t feel too bad about texting Phil for their whole car ride, and he figured he’d ask her about whoever she was talking to later.

Phil [11:32am]: The vampire slayer, obviously.

Dan [11:33am]: just checking how jealous i should be

Dan bit his lip; he hoped that was the right combination of flirty and jealous, and didn’t veer off into unjustly clingy territory. Phil responded quickly, though, easing his fears.

Phil [11:34am]: Well in that case, very. I used to have such a big crush on Sarah Michelle Gellar.

Phil [11:34am]: But seriously, this show is amazing. I’ve seen it so many times.

Phil was cute. Dan adored the way that Phil loved things with all of his heart, they way he was so openly excited about the things he liked. Even when they were nerdy as all hell. It reminded Dan of himself. Once he’d gotten past the awkwardness of being a nerdy teenager, Dan had always tried to be unapologetic of who he was, and to not feel embarrassed about the things that he loved.

Dan [11:35am]: don’t hate me but i’ve never seen buffy

Phil [11:35am]: YOU WHAT???

Phil [11:36am]: THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE

Biting his lip, Dan held back a giggle at Phil’s outrage. The all-caps texting just made it all the more adorable. He didn’t need Adaline making fun of him, though, if she saw him laughing over a text.

Dan [11:37am]: sorry mate. i just never got around to it

As Dan sent the message, their uber came to a stop in front of their destination— which was apparently the Versace store. Of course, Adaline fucking would. Dan rolled his eyes. Apparently, Adaline was committed to their little game of window shopping today, and was determined to go big. Dan’s phone vibrated — Phil must have responded — but he ignored it and shoved it into his pocket instead, helping Addie out of the car and leading her to the entrance of the store.

They both riffled through the racks, each accumulating a small wardrobe of clothes to try on — including a studded knit top from the women’s department that Dan was pretty sure he’d end up buying. Now that he had money, he was complete shit at this game.

Dan waited until he was locked in his dressing room to look at what Phil had said.

Phil [11:39am]: When does Adaline leave? You’re coming over immediately and we are starting your Buffy education

An excuse to see Phil again outside of Beans and Grind — and so soon, too — was very welcomed, and Dan was glad that Phil seemed to see it that way, too. Did it come across as too eager if Dan tried to see Phil tomorrow? But Phil had said as soon as Adaline left, so maybe he was just as eager to see Dan.

Fuck it. Dan wanted to see Phil and he was complete shit at waiting.

Dan [12:16pm]: tomorrow afternoon

Sitting his phone down unlocked and face up on the bench, Dan shed his coat and pulled his sweatshirt over his head. He tugged on the women’s shirt he’d picked out, and appraised it in the mirror.

He liked it. He’d gotten a big enough size that it was fitted, but he didn’t think it was too tight, and he liked how the tiny silver metal studs popped against the black sweater.

“Oi, Addie, see what you think of this,” Dan called, popping out of his dressing room.

Adaline stuck her head out of her door, appraising Dan’s sweater. “I like it,” she complimented, sounding sincere.

“Yeah?” Dan fiddled with the hem. “It’s not too tight, right?”

“Definitely not, you look good in it. I’m sure someone would probably find it sexy if you wore it on a date.”

“Shut up,” Dan grumbled, he cheeks flushing. Secretly, he thought Phil might like him in it, too, but he felt embarrassed to be called out.

“You’re going to get it, aren’t you?” Adaline asked. Dan nodded. “God, you’ve turned so bougie,” she laughed.

“I’ve always had bougie taste, and you know it,” he shot back. It was true — their game of window shopping in expensive stores had started because Dan was obsessed with high end fashion from a young age.

“Doesn’t make it any less disgusting,” Adaline teased, ducking back into her room. Dan rolled his eyes and turned back to his own dressing room. When he got back inside, Dan saw that Phil had texted him back.

Phil [12:18pm]: I have a liveshow tomorrow night and I really shouldn’t cancel it :(

Oh. That sucked. Even though Dan had just seen Phil last night, Dan had been excited that he might get to see Phil again tomorrow night.

Dan bit his lip, trying to think of a way they might salvage the night somehow. After all, he only had two weeks left before he left for Germany for his concert, and he really wanted to soak up as much Phil time as he could.

Dan [12:26pm]: i could still come over and just fuck off while you do your live show

Fuck, did that sound too clingy? Was it too weird of a suggestion? Dan quickly tacked on another message, hoping to make it seem less odd.

Dan [12:26pm]: if that wouldn’t be weird

Dan’s heart pounded as he waited for a response. The three dots felt mocking as they flashed across his screen.

What felt like years later, Phil’s reply showed up.

Phil [12:27pm]: Not weird. You could just watch an episode without me?

Thank fuck. Frankly, Dan probably would have watched paint dry while Phil did his liveshow if that meant still seeing him tomorrow. He grinned as he went to type another reply.

Dan [12:29pm]: deal. i’ll text you after i’ve dropped addie off at the train station?

Phil responded almost instantly, which Dan hoped was a sign that he was just as eager to see Dan as Dan was to see Phil.

Phil [12:30pm]: Perfect :)

The shop clerk didn’t love the fact that they were only buying one sweater, even though they must have tried on thirty things between them. Dan felt bad, just for a second, until the clerk made a comment about how the sweater Dan was buying was a woman’s sweater. That sure made all of the guilt vanish from Dan’s conscious. In fact, he wished he’d made more of a mess of the fitting room. Whatever. People sucked.

After Versace, Dan and Adaline continued their pilgrimage down the street of high end fashion shops, ducking in a store every time they got cold or something caught their eye. A few stores, and hours, later, they were in Michael Kors. Dan wasn’t trying anything on — it was all a bit preppy for his taste — but Adaline had taken nearly half the store into a dressing room with her. Dan sat on a bench outside her room, critiquing every outfit she tried on. Near the end of her mini fashion show, she came out in a chic blue leather jacket that looks fantastic on her.

“You’re getting that,” Dan said instantly. “You need something cool to wear to the concert.”

“Lol, with what money, you dumbass?” Adaline deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “I’m pretty sure it’s like five hundred pounds.”

“Give it to me. I’m getting it for you as a belated birthday present.”

“Dan, you’re already taking me to Germany for my birthday!” Adaline rebutted, eyes wide.

“A gift that cost me precisely zero pounds. Give me.” Dan held his hand out expectantly for the jacket.

“You’re a piece of work,” Adaline grumbled, shrugging out of the jacket and handing it to him. “But thank you.” She flashed him a small smile. She may mock him for having bougie taste, but when it came down to it, she did too.

“Meet me by the tills when you’re done.”

After Dan paid for the jacket, he busied himself at the jewelry case while he waited for Adaline, looking at the watches for lack of anything better to do. Since Dan had just dropped a rather large sum on a jacket, the salesman was attentively eyeing Dan, probably hoping to make another large sale.

It was making Dan a bit uncomfortable. He had no intentions of buying anything else here — he hadn’t even planned to buy this jacket. The attentive gaze left him feeling like a circus animal being demanded to perform.

Fortunately, Adaline came to Dan’s rescue just as the salesman wandered over. Dan shoved the bag at her, pushing her out of the store by her shoulders.

“What’s the rush?” Adaline mumbled.

“That salesperson looks out for blood,” Dan whispered. He felt Adaline try to twist around to look, but he tightened his grip on her, steering her out of the door.

They’d only made it a few steps out of the store when Dan’s phone started vibrating again. Assuming it was another text from Phil, Dan had planned to ignore it - but then he realized that the vibration wasn’t stopping. That had to mean he was getting a phone call.

Digging his phone out of his pocket, Dan brought Adaline to a halt on the street, and glanced at the screen to find out who was calling him. Only, when he checked the caller ID, it was she same random London number that had been calling him since yesterday.

“Who the fuck is this?” Dan muttered, growing frustrated with the sheer amount of phone calls. With a burst of extroversion that Dan didn’t realize he had, he pressed accept. “Hello?”

“Hi Danny,” a honeyed voice replied.

Dan’s blood ran ice cold, body frozen. Fuck. Whatever he was expecting, this wasn’t it.

“Isabella,” He replied, the shock of hearing her voice had frozen him in place.

Adaline’s head whipped around to face him — apparently she was equally surprised to hear who was on the phone.

“Hang up,” Adaline commanded.

“What the fuck do you want?” Dan demanded instead.

“I don’t like how things ended between us, baby.” Isabella said sweetly, too sweetly. “I think we can fix this.”

Was she fucking serious? She’d cheated on him — multiple times, nonetheless — and for some ludicrous reason, she thought any type of relationship with Dan was salvageable?

“Really? Because I fucking loved finding out you’re a cheating whore!” Dan replied, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“It was a mistake, cariño. I feel so awful about it. I want to make it up to you.” Her voice was still too sweet — there was no sincerity to it.

“I know how you can make it up to me.”

“How? Anything for you, Danny.” Dan closed his eyes, cringing at the nickname. He could practically see her batting her eyes at him, could practically feel her fingers running down his arm.

“Fuck off Isabella,” Dan snapped.

“That’s not what I —”

Dan didn’t give her the chance to finish her sentence, though. Yanking the phone away from his ear, Dan took Adaline’s advice and ended the call.

“What the hell was that?” Adaline asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I think she wanted to try to get back together,” Dan replied, perplexed, staring blankly at his screen. Her number was right there at the top of his call log, a heavy weight in his hands.

“Give me your phone,” Adaline ordered. Without thinking it through, Dan handed it over. He didn’t want it anyway.

“Wait, what are you doing?” He asked once he processed what was happening.

“Blocking her fucking number, obviously.”

For a fleeting second, Dan wondered if that was smart — if it was smart to completely block her out, to entirely burn the bridge between them. But then again, why the fuck would he ever want to talk to her again?

“Good,” Dan mumbled. And then again, more surely, “Good.”

[[next chapter]]

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #ly #love yourself #iminclinedtowriting #barista!phil #singer!dan #phan au #au #coffee shop au

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danfanciesphil · 6 years

Text

Give Me A Try (New Chapter)

Gay Instagram Model/Bartender Phan AU Part 4

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Read on Ao3)

At 10am on Wednesday morning, Dan wakes on AmazingPhil’s sofa. A whirring noise causes him to stir, dragging him out of an unconscious bliss of ignorance to his surroundings. As he props himself up on his elbows, Dan looks around his immediate vicinity, confused. The rush of realisation is quick to strike him, and his arms jellify; he flops back down onto the cushions with a ‘thwump’.

Eyes wide, Dan pulls the colourful, zig-zag patterned blanket over his bare chest. Last night, removing his shirt had seemed logical. Now, he’s painfully aware of the exposed chest and abdomen on show. He’s seen plenty of photos of Phil topless. The comparison between their muscle definition is laughable.

Dan rolls onto his side, scanning the floor for his shirt. He spots it at once, and lunges, pulling it towards him. As soon as he brings it to his nose, the stench of beer, vodka and sweat overwhelms him. He frowns in revulsion, wondering what to do.

Is it worse to confront Phil fucking Lester first thing in the morning while shirtless, or stinking of a hell-shift? Before Dan can decide, Phil strolls into the room, holding two mugs in his hands.

Phil is also shirtless, Dan notes, to his dismay. At least he’s wearing tracksuit bottoms.

“You’re awake!” Phil says, smiling at him. He walks over, placing one of the mugs down onto the coffee table. Dan stares at it; it’s Hello Kitty shaped. “Sorry if the coffee machine woke you up. I can’t function in the mornings without caffeine.”

“Oh, n-no, that’s…” Dan swallows, gazing up into Phil’s eyes. He’s wearing his glasses, and his hair is a bird’s nest. There are the faint etchings of paling pink cover creases across one of his cheeks. “Fine,” Dan breathes.

“I made you a cup,” Phil points out, gesturing to the Hello Kitty mug. “I don’t know how you like it, so I just made it the same as mine, soy milk and two sugars. I hope that’s okay.”

Dan nods, and tries a smile. He doesn’t have sugar in his coffee normally, but he’s hardly going to complain. He should drink it, he thinks, it will probably clear the exhausted fog from his mind.

Phil has moved to sit in the armchair to the right of the sofa. He sips his coffee, legs spread wide as he slumps down into it. He’s gazing intently at his phone. Dan seizes the opportunity, lunging for the Hello Kitty mug while Phil isn’t looking, so that he won’t see the flash of exposed skin peeking out from beneath the quilt.

Dan swallows down a vaguely disgusting gulp. Then another.

“Um, thank you for letting me stay here,” Dan says once he’s sat up a little, the blanket pulled up beneath his armpits. “I must’ve been really tired.”

Phil puts his phone down, smiling over the rim of his cup. “Hey, it’s no problem at all. I just hope it wasn’t too uncomfy on the sofa.”

Dan wants to laugh at that. The sofa is an enormous, deep purple, corner-style affair, with seemingly hundreds of plump, unnecessary cushions, and quite possibly the softest springs Dan has ever encountered. It’s so big that Dan, at six foot, can stretch out fully with room to spare.

He directs his smirk into Hello Kitty’s hollow head. “Not at all,” he says politely.

“So, what can I get you?” Phil asks brightly, sitting up in his chair. “Breakfast? Clean clothes? A shower?”

Dan has to admit, the lure of being clean is tempting. Not to mention the chance to sneak a peek at more of Phil’s flat.

“A shower would be amazing,” Dan says, wincing a little; he hates feeling like a burden.

“They do call me AmazingPhil for a reason.”

Dan laughs. “I thought you nicknamed yourself that because you wanted to be first in the alphabet for everything.”

The comment slips out before Dan can think it through. It’s an instinctual reflex, to reel off his AmazingPhil knowledge to anyone that will listen to him ramble on about the guy. In hindsight, Phil himself is probably not the person to ramble to.

A silence hangs in the air for a minute, during which time Dan tries to persuade any entity listening to allow the enormous sofa to swallow him up whole. Then, Phil laughs, a little awkwardly.

“Yeah, but I’m still amazing,” he says, and Dan relaxes, a little. “The shower’s down the hall, I’ll show you.”

Phil drains his coffee and jumps to his feet. He looks at Dan expectantly, and Dan realises he’s going to have to emerge, shirtless, from beneath the blanket, in order to follow him. Cringing already, Dan opts for a slow reveal, looking steadfastly away from Phil, cheeks burning. He stands, arms crossed over his chest, and waits for Phil to lead the way.

As Dan follows him through the flat, Phil chatters about something Dan can barely listen to, insecurity overwhelming him completely. He stops outside a door and pushes it open, then turns to Dan.

“Just use anything in there,” Phil tells him. “Towels, shampoo, shower gel. Maybe not the toothbrush?” Phil laughs. “But then again I’ll probably never know if you did.”

He winks, sending Dan’s stomach crashing to the floor, and then leaves Dan to it. Unsurprisingly, Phil’s shower is one of those alien spacecraft types, with a touch screen panel to operate it, different pressure settings, and a built in radio. Dan accidentally turns the radio on as he’s attempting to figure it out, and Phil’s Spotify playlist ‘Shower Time’ comes on. The first song is ‘My Heart Will Go On’. Dan laughs at this, manages to switch it off, and eventually gets the shower to a relatively normal temperature.

Phil’s shampoo is melon flavoured, and his body wash is something called ‘s’mores ‘n’ mores’. Dan’s not used to smelling so sweet, but he appreciates the pleasant, syrupy aromas as he massages the various substances into his skin and hair. As he’s scrubbing himself, his mind wanders, and the thought drifts into his brain that he’s currently standing in the same spot Phil does every morning. Every day, Phil Lester steps into this very shower cubicle, naked as Dan stands now, and rubs the same gels across his body.

Dan quickly loses concentration, and slips, yelping as he struggles not to fall on his bare ass. He manages to stay upright by clinging onto the faucet. As he regains his balance, there’s a knock on the door.

“Uh, are you okay, Dan?”

Flushing, Dan pokes his head out of the cubicle. “Y-yeah, I’m fine! Sorry, I slipped.”

There’s an unmistakable chuckle. “Okay. I thought I’d throw your clothes in the wash if you want? You can borrow something of mine in the meantime.”

Dan chews his lip, deliberating. While he really doesn’t want to go through the whole debacle of borrowing more clothes from Phil, it’s a mildly horrifying thought to step out of the shower and pull on his smelly, damp work shirt.

He resolves that this will be the very last time. “That’d be great actually, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Phil says cheerily, and then, somehow, the bathroom door is opening.

Dan squeaks, ducking back into the cubicle. The glass is opaque with steam, but Dan can’t help feeling ridiculously exposed nonetheless. He can hear Phil walking across the tiled bathroom floor, humming away as if it’s perfectly normal.

“I’ll just grab them,” Phil is saying. Dan just presses himself against the one wall that isn’t glass, watching Phil’s blurry outline move through the room towards the sink where Dan’s clothes are. “I’ve left you a t-shirt and some jogging bottoms on the side.”

“Thanks,” Dan says meekly, heart hammering.

Just before he leaves, Phil seems to pause. “It smells really good in here.”

“Yeah,” Dan says. The thunder of the shower against the floor is deafening. “You’ve got good taste in shampoo.”

There’s another pause, and then Phil is moving closer to the glass. Dan wants to hide, to curl up away from him; Phil almost definitely can’t see any defining features of Dan’s body, but still, it’s mortifying to think that Phil Lester, the literal model, might be able to see any of his unshapely, naked form. A hand, or what looks like a hand, reaches out towards the glass.

Rivulets of water trickling over his stricken face, Dan watches as Phil’s finger trails through the condensation, drawing a smiley face.

“There’s more coffee when you’re done,” Phil says softly, and then he’s gone, closing the door behind him.

Dressed in Phil’s clothes, sitting on Phil’s sofa, drinking Phil’s coffee. Perhaps he never woke up, Dan can’t help but think.

“...but that’s my mum for you, she’s obsessed with RuPaul’s Drag Race,” Phil finishes. Dan’s only half-listening, distracted as he is by the way the Sunnydale High t-shirt Phil gave him clings to his damp skin.

He’s seen Phil wearing this t-shirt in various photos in the past. It’s always looked slightly too small for him, the sleeves straining around his thick arm muscles, the hem riding just a smidge too high on his abdomen. It hangs loose over Dan’s concave stomach, and his poor excuse for a chest. His arms thread like noodles through the same sleeves.

“She really tried to get you to audition?”

Phil laughs, his signature tongue-poke laugh. “Yeah, I’m not sure she really gets the concept of the show… but she loves it anyway.”

“It’s cute that she’s supportive,” Dan says. Phil laughs, nodding.

“She means well.” Phil sighs, draining the last of his coffee. “Another cup?”

Dan nods, though he knows he should refuse. Phil stands from the sofa, and for some reason Dan stands too, following Phil towards the kitchen at one end of the spacious, open plan room. As they walk, Dan takes the opportunity to peer around at his surroundings. Phil’s flat is gorgeous, with lots of wide spaces and natural light, though it’s sparsely decorated. There are still boxes of stuff laying around, as he has only been here for a couple of months. Inside them, Dan spots a variety of colourful decorations, some of which he recognises from Phil’s old place; he used to film Instagram stories in his last flat a lot, so Dan can easily pick out the Tetris lamp Phil used to have on his mantelpiece, and the framed Studio Ghibli posters he had mounted on his bedroom walls.

As Phil pours them more coffee, Dan leans against the breakfast bar, watching him. It’s only as Phil places a second mug before him that Dan remembers something.

He steps backwards before he can stop himself, cheeks flaming. At first, Phil seems surprised, but his expression quickly melts into a smirk. He leans casually against the breakfast bar, sipping coffee with an amused expression.

“Everything ok?”

Fighting the urge to splutter and embarrass himself further, Dan just shrugs his shoulders. “Thought I recognised this spot,” he mutters.

A couple of weeks ago, Phil had posted a particularly risqué photo. Dan remembers it well, for obvious reasons, as Phil had been completely naked. He’d covered the more intimate parts of his body with artfully arranged bed sheets, but it had been a memorable image nonetheless. In the photo, Phil had been sprawled out on a breakfast bar, his chest covered with berries and other fruits, as well as an array of croissants, cornflakes, and other breakfast foods. The caption, if Dan remembers correctly, had been: ‘I’ll even make you breakfast after…’.

In the hours after receiving that notification, Dan had found himself rather… occupied.

“I promise I’ve cleaned it since,” Phil says knowingly, a glimmer in his eye.

Dan just avoids his gaze, cheeks burning.

“Who took the photo?” Dan reaches for his coffee with shaky fingers, careful not to touch the surface of the marble top lest he combust on the spot.

Phil is quiet for a moment, taking another sip. “Charlie.”

Dan forces himself not to grimace at the news. “Oh.”

“We often take each other’s photos if we hang out,” Phil says, shrugging. “We have to post things about three times a day, more or less. So, we hang out, and snap each other doing some random stuff. It’s just easier to have someone else do it for you, especially if they know your angles.”

Dan nods, pretending to understand. In reality, he doesn’t quite see how having Charlie there to take photos as they ‘hang out’ equates to Phil posing stark naked on a countertop covered in delicious food. Maybe he’s missing something, but to him, that seems a little different to simply ‘hanging out’.

“Y’know, I should… probably get going soon,” Dan says, feeling very awkward all of a sudden.

The image of Phil, reclining on this very surface, has suddenly become tainted somehow. He kind of wishes he’d never asked who took the photo.

Bizarrely, Phil’s face drops into one of sincere disappointment at Dan’s news. “Really? But your clothes aren’t dry yet.”

“Right,” Dan says, fidgeting. “Um…”

He’s not sure what to do. He feels he’s overstayed his welcome already, but he doesn’t want to run off in Phil’s clothes again.

“Do you have work later?”

“No,” Dan admits. “It’s my day off, actually.”

“So stay!” Phil beams. “I mean… you don’t have to,” he laughs, seeming awkward. “I don’t want to keep you prisoner. But I have Mario Kart, and DVD’s, and nothing to do all day… we can order pizza and hang out? At least until your clothes are ready.” Phil twirls the cup in his hands. “Y’know, if you want.”

There’s a tug in Dan’s chest, and he almost groans. Life is tempting him, cruelly. He looks around himself, trying to decide. The bare walls and unpacked items suddenly seem a little sad. He wonders if, since moving down to the coast from Manchester, Phil has had the chance to make any friends.

“Sure,” Dan blurts, his heart pushing the words from his mouth before his brain can regulate them. “But uh… I will wreck you at Mario Kart. Just a warning.”

“Oh, really?” Phil smirks, leaning towards Dan across the breakfast bar. His bicep muscles flex, subtly, throwing the image of him sprawled, naked and seductive, right here, back into Dan’s exhausted brain. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see about that.”

Dan ends up staying all day. He stresses that he doesn’t want to impose on Phil, but if anything Phil seems keen for Dan to remain right where he is, so he does. They order Dominos, they drink copious amounts of Ribena, and Dan, as promised, destroys Phil over and over again at Mario Kart.

At six in the evening, Phil finally admits defeat. “Okay, okay, I submit! I throw my flag down at your feet, Dan. You are the King of Mario Kart.”

“Damn straight.”

“I hope not.”

Dan looks at Phil, blushing faintly. “What?”

“Wouldn’t be great to work at a gay bar if you’re weren’t gay, I imagine,” Phil explains, winking. He stands from the pile of cushions they’d placed on the floor next to his sofa, gathering the pizza boxes.

“Oh.” Dan nods to himself. “Right, yeah, I guess that’d be pretty sucky.”

Phil shoots him a dazzling smile, then takes all the boxes to the kitchen. “So how’d you get so good at Mario Kart?”

Dan opens his mouth, about to explain that it’s simply a matter of holing oneself up in one’s room and playing the game for hours at a time, without breaks, until one’s eyes are bleeding, and one’s butt has lost all feeling.

Before he can get these words out however, the buzzer sounds. Phil’s face instantly drops, and he throws a vaguely worried frown towards it.

He looks over at Dan, apologetic. “Hang on.”

Dan just smiles, sipping Ribena. He watches Phil cross the room to the door, where the buzzer is.

“Hello?” Phil says into it.

“It’s me, let me up.”

The voice is indistinct, and Dan can’t quite hear properly. Phil, on the other hand, seems to recognise it at once. He sighs, turning to glance over his shoulder briefly, at Dan.

After a moment, he presses a button, albeit reluctantly. He turns back to Dan, grimacing. “It’s Charlie,” he says. “Sorry. He has a tendency to drop by unannounced.”

“Oh,” Dan says, his heart sinking. He glances down at himself, cheeks growing warm. “Should I… change?”

Phil’s brow creases. “Why would you need to-”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting Phil’s sentence. Phil goes to open it, and Dan tries to brace himself for yet another awkward, probably unpleasant conversation with Charlie Hickory.

“Ugh, it’s fucking pouring out there,” are Charlie’s first words as he pushes past Phil into the flat. “Seventy euros this hair wax cost me in Milan, and it’s ruined by a splash of-”

He stops short, halfway through unwinding the scarf from around his neck. His eyes are fixed on Dan, who has remained, rigid and unmoving, on the floor beside Phil’s sofa, mug in hand.

“Hi,” Dan offers.

“The fuck is he doing here?” Charlie mutters, whipping off his scarf and throwing it onto the couch.

“Charlie, for God’s sake, could you at least pretend to be nice?” Phil asks in an unusually cross voice.

Charlie rolls his eyes. He flops down onto the sofa, lengthways, and kicks off his shoes. They land beside Dan, nearly knocking into his shoulder.

“Fine,” Charlie says. “Dan, is it? Hi. What are you doing in Phil’s flat?” Charlie’s eyes narrow, and he sits up, squinting at Dan. “And in his fucking clothes.”

Charlie’s head whips round to face Phil, who is stood, awkwardly, in the middle of the room.

“Did you fuck him?”

“Charlie, for Christ’s sake-”

“No,” Dan says, quickly. “No, he didn’t- we didn’t-” he pauses, trying to gather himself. “I just stayed here. On the sofa. And Phil washed my work clothes. So I’m borrowing his for a bit.”

Charlie settles back down into the sofa cushions. “Figures. Any excuse to whip his top off for a randomer.”

“I was just heading off, actually,” Dan says, deciding he’s had enough.

“You don’t have to,” Phil pipes up, meekly, though from his awkward stance, it’s clear he thinks it’s probably for the best as well.

“No, really,” Dan insists. “I need to go home at some point, luxurious as this little one night holiday from reality has been.”

Phil nods sadly, sending Dan a small smile. Dan stands, wobbling slightly; it’s been a while since he moved from this spot. He makes his way over to Phil, very aware that he’s being watched closely. He hands his half-empty mug back to Phil, returning the smile.

“Thanks for all the coffee and pizza,” Dan says. “And for letting me stay on your sofa.”

“Anytime,” Phil says, making Charlie mutter something under his breath. “It was really fun. Even though you wiped the floor with me at Mario Kart.”

“Hah, yeah… well, if you ever fancy your luck at a rematch.”

“Might have to hold you to that.”

“So,” Dan says, shifting from foot to foot. Phil just stares at him, obviously not getting why Dan isn’t already moving towards the door. “Um… my clothes?”

“Oh!” Phil exclaims, practically jumping on the spot. “Sorry, I totally forgot. I’ll be right back.”

Dan wants to grab hold of him, to wrap his arms around Phil’s waist and beg him not to leave the room, to leave him alone with the man he possibly would least want to be alone with on the planet, but he doesn’t get a chance. Not that he would ever deem himself worthy of locking his arms around Phil Lester.

Slowly, Dan swivels back towards Charlie, who is regarding him with one eye open, an arm behind his head. Dan scrambles for something to say, but as usual, Charlie gets there first.

“He’s out of your league, you know.”

“Oh, um, I’m not trying to…”

“Not trying to… worm your way into his life? Parade around in front of him in his clothes and make him lust over your non-existent little ass?”

Dan shuts his mouth, already fuming.

“Look, Dan,” Charlie sighs, smirking as his eyes close. “Phil’s the kind of guy who just… can’t say no to a puppy-dog face, y’know? A heart of gold and all that. He’ll crawl down into the gutters to help someone he feels sorry for. But that’s why he needs me, to stop him from lowering himself too far into the muck.”

“How noble of you,” Dan says, voice grating. “Must be hard for you to reach into the gutter for Phil’s hand. Wouldn’t want you to mess up your seventy euro quiff.”

Charlie’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to retort, but at that moment, Phil wanders back in, a pile of clothes in his hands. Fury still coursing through his veins, Dan stalks over to Phil and takes the load from him, too angry to stay here a minute longer. He grabs his shoes and jacket, his quick movements obviously startling Phil, who just watches with wide eyes.

“I’ll bring your clothes back to the bar, Phil,” Dan says through gritted teeth. “Come get them whenever. See you.”

He yanks open Phil’s door and steps out into the hall, not bothering to put on his shoes and jacket. He slams it shut behind him, marching to the elevator. It’s not until the doors slide shut behind him, sealing him away from the scene, that Dan allows himself to breathe.

To: Phil From: Dan hey. im really sorry for storming out tht was so rude. i had a great time and thanks sm for having me. if u decide to talk to me ever again, i’ll be at the bar. x

Dan hits send before he can think his way out of it, then strips off Phil’s clothes, and crawls into bed. It’s only eight-thirty, but Dan has had enough of today already. There’s something about Charlie. The guy knows exactly how to piss him off.

He reaches for his charger, about to plug his phone in, when it buzzes in his hand. He takes a deep breath before looking, not sure he’s going to like the response.

To: Dan From: Phil hey dw about it!! im sorry if i did something to upset u. or if anyone else did something… xx

Dan sighs, head flopping back against the pillows. Charlie was right about one thing; Phil truly does have a heart of gold, it would seem. Just then, another text pops through.

To: Dan From: Phil i had a really great time too! i’ll totally be coming in to the bar soon :) maybe tomorrow? xx

A slice of panic swoops through Dan’s chest; he sits upright.

To: Phil From: Dan oh, maybe not tomorrow… theres an event on every fourth thursday x

To: Dan From: Phil im intrigued… what sort of event? more bingo? xx

To: Phil From: Dan it’s a charity auction x

To: Dan From: Phil what’s up for auction? xx

To: Phil From: Dan it’s a ‘servant’ auction. so people sign up, then others bid for them lol x

To: Dan From: Phil Sounds fun! I’ll be there xx

Oh, God. Dan chews his lip, trying to picture this. On one hand, Phil is probably open minded enough to enjoy this stupid charity event and all the ridiculousness that goes along with it. On the other, he’ll have to watch Dan auctioning off the scantily clad idiots that sign themselves up for it.

To: Phil From: Dan haha… ok. just prepare urself. its a lot. x

To: Dan From: Phil i have a question though. xx

To: Phil From: Dan yes? x

To: Dan From: Phil where do i sign up? ;) xx

(Part Five!)

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dan and phil #bartender au

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flamingophan · 6 years

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PINOF 9

i have so many feels right now and i should definitely be studying and not writing this text but i haven’t seen anyone do a longass post yet so.. here we go!

drawing the whiskers

look, this made me think. the last time they drew whiskers on each others faces must have been tatinof-related, right? so about a year ago? after making them almost daily for months? imagine all the memories it must bring back for them.. i’m emotional.

phil is concentrating so hard when drawing on dan that he puts so much pressure on (knowing dan, he probably enjoys it somehow). dan’s lines on the other hand are much thinner, he is so delicate and gentle with phil and just stab me, it would hurt less.

“watch me dad”

.. excuse me? did dan just unironially call phil dad? wow. so heterosexual. such good friends. i too call my best friends kinky names.

arm wrestling

i love that phil is trying so hard while dan is just sat there, with the look of loveTM on his face. and then he just finishes phil off and phil’s lying there and i wonder if they’ve ever done that when they can’t decide which way to.. you know..

stranger things

that scene is hilarious, i want more reenactment! the way phil holds his nose and does the telepathic hand thing and dan is just out of control.. top acting, good sirs!

“how would you celebrate your birthday?”

asks dan, while opening his legs suggestively. was that for us? so we’d get it? i mean what are you doing there daniel?

crab walk up the stairs

dan is so very concerned for phil’s safety and phil is acting as if he was to cross an icefall. it’s the freakin crab walk guys, not the olympics! they are old. very old and inflexible. i’m kinda worried they might hurt their backs whenever they get it on.

hi. my name is ..

i love that phil takes great pleasure in teasing dan with that. also danis snot on fire. i want to know how many times he does that in their everyday life.

the tie tie

sometimes i realize that they are both men. no, i mean they are both full grown up men. not only two people goofing around, soulmates whatever, but men who know how a tie works and who shave in the morning. makes me feel things.

embarassing photos

that was some married shit. if phil’s picture is considered bad by dan, i wanna see a good one. seriously, he just looks a bit tired. while dan’s photo is.. straight up cringe. but we all know that dan likes to take fuckboy selfies so what’s new.

(6:40 why is dan’s hand on his crotch?? do you think they’ve ever done it in the cheese costume..?)

chaynal? anal?

the best thing here is phil’s face. his cheeky smily and the eyebrow raise. that’s a very rare phil face and i need a compilation of all the times he’s done it.

(i’m not gonna mention the outfits because they both have terrible fashion sense)

leg dab

phil’s genuine laugh and dan’s snort laugh. i bet they make each other laugh like that all the time. i am so jealous, they really like to keep the best things to themselves.

tattoos

*dan voice* carrying on the rat joke, aren’t we? and dan’s face as a tattoo? i mean, i guess it’s better than his name on phil’s ass or whatever the cringey lovebird cliché is.

ribena flip

i mean.. what should i say.. is that phil lester? everyone’s angel bean? wow. i mean we’ve seen phil spreading his ass and dan filming it but phil kneeling on a bed.. with his legs spread.. and dan behind him.. i am shaken.

honorable mention to all the times dan laughed softly, eyes smiling and i’m not crying, you’re crying! oh yes, and of course phil’s chest hair. what a cameo, truly.

tl;dr this video was definitely my new favourite pinof, just because they were so free and open with themselves. now looking forward to the bloopers.

#phan #pinof9

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livelikebrent · 7 years

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Stop 1: Billy Murphy’s Irish Saloon | East Falls, PA

This first stop couldn’t have been any more obvious. For those of you that are unfamiliar with Billy Murphy’s Irish Saloon, it’s located only a couple of blocks away from Brent’s apartment. It was his favorite bar in all of Philadelphia and it was his very own version of “Cheers.” This place is certainly a diamond in the rough.

All of us would end up at Murphy’s once, twice, sometimes even three or more times a week. It’s a simple go to spot for a drink, wings or burgers. Side note: The “Turf Burger” is hands down THE best burger I have ever had. And yes, I understand that is a bold statement to make - but it’s true. I remember the day I told Brent he couldn’t eat Murphy wings (or any bar food really) for a while due to his Graft versus Host Disease. You would’ve thought I told him something like Trump was our president. Is this first post too early for political jokes? But maybe I should let Brent give you his review on Murphy’s. Really, here is his yelp review from almost 7 years ago. P.S. - He gave it five stars by the way...shocker.

“This place was a recommendation from my uncle who would always stop by to say hello to his friend, the late Mr. Murphy. As an East Fallser of the past 5 years, I found this place to be my second home and great place to catch a beer while waiting for the train. The friendly patrons make it easy to find yourself in conversation and keeps the atmosphere fun and and warmly welcoming. The food is actually pretty good and Murphy (the owner) always makes us feel at home. The pictures covering the walls are a reminder of good times passed. Wing night is our weekly staple and love to see and meet new friends every week. A bit retro? Yes, but the old school atmosphere is more inviting than most people are used to. Be sure to bring cash as they are not credit card friendly. Good tunes are always played and good times are always shared. I consider this my favorite neighborhood bar in Philadelphia!“

It was Thursday, the day after Brent’s funeral, and I invited our group of Philadelphia friends to gather for food and drinks in his honor. I still not yet had the chance to spend time with this special group of people since everything happened. There was no other place I’d rather congregate with these fine specimens either. So this crew encompasses childhood friends, high school friends, significant others that we’ve grown close with along with Brent’s neighbors that live above him in his building. It was your typical Murphy’s crowd for a Thursday except our group was all in one place at one time. About half way through the night, the owner and good friend, Mike poured several (18 to be exact) Jamesons for a toast to Brent. I took a seat up on the bar, bar tenders rang the bell, and I gave a quick toast...

youtube

Public speaking is not my strong suit. But it was Brent’s. He’d give any excuse to raise our glasses so he could spit some game and give a darn good toast. Most of them would make you chuckle, humble you and make you be grateful for holding that glass there with him. When we first started dating I would cringe when he would put me on the spot by raising his glass and say, "Okay, your turn." Well, this time is was my turn, Brent. I kept it short and sweet like a shot of Jameson.

Then it was time to bag it, tag it and slap that sticker on the door. I’ve put a couple of Carve 4 Cancer stickers up along the way on the front door at Murphy’s. But this placement had to be primo. Plus, our good friend Caitlin was standing right behind me. I could feel her OCD burning through not just me but the door as well. It’s the first official sticker on Tour de Brent, NO WRINKLES.

Now it’s time to talk about the sticker and the contents on said sticker. Carve 4 Cancer is a non-profit we started to help find a cure for blood cancers. The story on how that came to be is for another time. But to learn more about it click on the link provided at the top of this page. Since Brent passed, it became our goal at Carve 4 Cancer to see how you #LiveLikeBrent every day. When you shred on the mountain, go on a brewery tour, take a road trip with friends or hike a trail, we want you to hashtag #LiveLikeBrent. So every single stop I make in honor of my love, Brent, will get tagged with a sticker. Along with each sticker I tag, a post will be published with a story to support it and I’m excited to share the journey with you.

Thank you Mike and Billy Murphy’s Irish Saloon for the memories, new and old. And most importantly to the people by my side that night. Not only are you good friends and company - you are outstanding human beings and I am so happy that Brent brought us together.

Photo credit: Caitlin Maloney, Ainsley Maloney, Dan Youngblood and Kosta Fotiadis

#LiveLikeBrent #Philadelphia #BillyMurphysIrishSaloon #PhillyBars #Jameson #Carve4Cancer #C4C #Cancer #Friends #Yelp!

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nihilismdan · 7 years

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between the bars.

word count: 4946 warnings: none. summary: Dan is a lonely twenty-something year old not really looking for a connection until he finds one, and not in the way he expected, in fact he can't even remember it. Or the one where Dan and Phil meet on Tinder. a/n: under the cut.

a/n:I've had this idea in my head since Phil's tinder video. I had planned for this to be literally a 2k word fic. That didn't go as planned. I've been working on this for two fics and I'm proud for it to be done. This fic comes from a special place as I am talking to a girl and we're actually going on a date soon and I just really wanted a way to express that feeling of liking someone, (especially of the same sex) for the first time and how special and sort of magical it feels. Enjoy.

He downloads the app because he’s drunk at his house warming party, and he sets up his account when he’s sitting in his tub with his friend right next to him with a bottle of malibu in between them. Someone had come in not too long ago turning the shower on and they’re sitting with their natural (curly, frizzy) hair, their clothes are wet but they’re too drunk to notice or really care. Lauren grabs his phone from him and goes through his photos to find a couple of “good ones” to put on his profile. They argue but then laugh because he’s trying too hard in some photos but they can make it look like it’s purposeful.

“What a night, huh?” Lauren says as she’s swiping right on people. She doesn’t mean that she put the settings on both “men and women,” in the beginning it was a joke -- the whole profile was a joke, and no male has actually matched with Dan yet.

“Yeah… yeah.” Dan says, tipping the bottle back and all he wants to do is lay down. He is a grown man, and he is drunk in his bathroom with a friend who’s a bit older than he is.

“We need a bio.” She slurs.

“My life is a joke.” Dan says, “I like pizza.” It’s a solid bio to Dan, he’s not expecting responses plus in the morning when he’s throwing up and feeling the wrath of the hangover he can just delete the app and pretend that it didn’t happen. At least he’ll have a funny story for his youtube channel. He’ll probably leave the dating app out though. Yeah, sounds like a plan.

“Hey, you got a match,” He thinks he hears his friend say but he can’t be sure, there’s too much alcohol in his system he just wants to sleep.

ii.

Dan couldn’t move the entire morning after the party. The most effort he had done was get out of the bathroom and to his bed and he didn’t move for hours after that. He was sweating and he could smell the alcohol off of him and he was nauseas, and then there were the body aches. He took some pain reliever and started to pick up after his friends, it was a lot of bottles and a lot of food gone to waste, he had just moved in yet his house had felt worn in already which was comforting but also just a lot of work to do for someone who hadn’t even been living here for a month yet.

He didn’t dare check his phone yet, he figured if he could distract himself with the clean up and a shower whatever he’d find wouldn’t exist and it didn’t happen. He was prone to drunk text a lot of his friends that he didn’t talk to anymore, but he was more scared of contact his ex during a night of drinking but he honestly couldn’t remember much of last night.

After a long shower and a cup of peppermint tea he had found himself back in bed with all the lights off and the only comfort he had was the light coming from his screen. He had seen the numerous notifications of people who matched with him, though he doesn’t remember really swiping anyone.

He moans and cringes, unlocking his phone and getting on the app to see the damage. He first looks at his profile and the selfies that Lauren had chose and shakes his head at the main photo he used, and then at his bio and his several interests below that he hadn’t bothered to unlike on facebook.

He finally gets the guts to look at messages, all of them are messages that just say “whats up” and they’re all females except for one. He takes a deep breath and then clicks on the message:

I just wanted to say that your bio is very short and sweet and i like it.

The first thing that Dan notices is the boy’s hair. He also mentions it on his profile.

“I’m that guy with the hair. I also like x-files, corgis and terrible puns.”

Dan reads the message over again. There’s a weird feeling he has looking at his profile, seeing their similar likes and interests, things that he also forgot to uncheck when he was making his tinder profile, and he looks at his selfies- some are just of him, and then he sees some with his friends he assumes or family. He has a very nice smile and pretty eyes. You could go swimming in those eyes, Dan thinks to himself and then cringes at the thought of him using that as a pick up line towards the other boy. And that’s just the thing -- he does want to reply back to him. Very badly, actually. He sighs again and then shakes his head. Why not?

haha thanks. i put in a lot of effort if you can’t tell. i like x-files, corgis, and terrible puns too.

He sent the message and then huffed, locking his phone and then turned on his side to look at the wall.

He hears a buzz a few moments later.

Looks like we have a lot in common! Even the same hair! What else do you like?

Dan finds himself looking at Phil’s profile again and smiling. He writes back to him.

did you steal my hair? i really like naps, breakfast food, wifi, space. wby???

When he hits send he waits for a moment, and then he grabs his headphones, if he’s not going to sleep he’s going to watch youtube if Phil was going to reply back as fast as he had been. It was an odd thing for Dan- he talked to people online all the time, for godssake he was someone who made videos for a living, but this was different- it was weird but completely familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

I DID. I’m older than you so I think you actually stole my hair :p What a coincidence, we both like naps, breakfast food, wifi, and space. I’d ask you what you’re looking for on tinder but that’s pretty boring question. Do you prefer tea or coffee?

Dan snorts reading the message, but he waits for a few minutes before replying back. He doesn’t want to seem desperate.

lies. i mean i don’t go outside but i do go on the nasa instagram and look at the photos of space they put up. hopefully that counts.

Dan ignores the tinder comment.

listen i know we’re british and like tea is a staple…. but i love coffee. well, it has to taste sugary for me to like coffee. to be specific, i love caramel machiatto’s from starbucks and I KNOW that it’s mostly just milk and caramel flavouring but it tastes great.

Dan had felt like he told too much there, their messages getting a little bit bigger each reply, he felt his eyes getting heavy though and he really did need to sleep. He was trying to stay up and at least read Phil’s message but he passed out listening to someone rant about algorithms and dreamed of parties and bathtubs.

iii.

Over the course of the week Dan slowly brings his apartment to life and he documents it in small little clips on his phone that he’ll eventually piece together into a video for his audience. Dan finds it enjoyable to be able to pick what kind of houseplants he wants in his apartment and what kind of cooking utensils he needs and if he wants the cutting board that’s green or white- it’s small little decisions that he enjoys because they’re his decisions and they belong to him.

And he checks his phone during those small little decisions for a message from Phil. They talk more at night. Phil is sometimes out of touch, and Dan can’t blame him. He hasn’t even asked him what he does yet. Right now they’re just talking. Sometimes when Dan is feeling brave enough or after a glass of beer he’ll ask Phil how his day is. And Phil will reply with tidbits of his day, and tell him a funny thing that happened to him, and Dan will be sitting at the pub with his friends and smile down at his phone, and his friends will laugh at him because he’s staring down at his crotch and laughing at him, and he’ll blush a little. Thanks, Phil, he’ll think internally and he’d want to tell him that but he’s scared that he’s just building his version of Phil or the Phil he wants him to be in his head and it’s always hard for boys like Dan- he falls for people so easily- or, well, he fell for this boy so easy. Perhaps because he’s the first boy to really give Dan the light of day. And he answers him back.

My day was good! I visited my parents which was why i was MIA for a bit. They have terrible service in IOM. Sorry for such delayed messages. My brother and his girlfriend came too so it’s just been busy. It was good though! I got to finish up that Stephen King book I was telling you about. Did you do anything fun over the weekend? (: Also I missed talking to you and thought maybe we could exchange numbers? I never check this thing or get notifications so maybe texting would be easier?

Dan reads the message a couple of times. He doesn’t know why it makes him feel giddy inside. He sets his phone down and looks out the window. His view isn’t that great. It’s just of the street he lives on and the other apartments surrounding his. Cars park out front and teens kick rocks with their new shoes they bought for school.

glad to hear that your day was good. i understand. whenever i go back to wokingham i don’t get any service out there either. it’s cool you got to see your parents and brother. i wish i was closer to my brother. nice! hopefully it was a good read and wasn’t too predictable. nah i didn’t do anything fun. i went to the cinema and ate a lot of food haha. yeah, i was going to actually suggest texting it seems a lot easier but you beat me to it! here’s my number.

Dan has to film a video. He puts his phone on silent and then purposely leaves it in the kitchen while he sets up the camera and lights. The past couple of weeks of talking to Phil felt like a mess and unorganized and he felt like he didn’t know what he was doing. It had been a while since his last video and he knew that now was a good time to film. This was what Dan was good at. This is what he knew how to do. It was effortless to film a video, and it was slowly becoming effortless to talk to Phil. He didn’t want to get his hopes up though. He blocked it out for a half hour while he talked to his camera. He could do that.

When he finished filming he took his time putting everything away. It didn’t take long -- his apartment wasn’t that big, there wasn’t much room for everything but he made it work. His channel was doing good and growing slowly but surely. He liked where his channel was going and his audience was great, he could always guarantee some sort of funny discourse or art being made for his content. He knew that his parents weren’t exactly proud that he dropped out of law school and they didn’t understand the whole internet thing, after what had happened with his brother his parents had given him a cold shoulder for a while, they didn’t talk until a couple months ago. While he understood- living out here in London wasn’t easy and a lot of times he was lonely and just wanted to talk to someone familiar. He had his new friends, his youtube friends but there was still a bit of loneliness because he couldn’t really relate or know how to make conversation and have that conversation mean something, because if it didn’t mean something and if there wasn’t a purpose for it then what was the point?

Hearing his phone buzz as he stared out the window of his tiny flat he had smiled to himself a little, walking over to see that there were a few text messages and a call from his mom. No voicemail. She normally left a voicemail if it was important. He’d just text her what’s up.

Hey it’s Phil from tinder! (: I didn’t know you had a brother! Is he older or younger than you?I’m the baby of the family :p but my mom still spoils both of us over the holidays. Book was good! Def reccomend if you want something scary to read :3 I’m glad I have your number now, this is much easier.

This is how it gets easier for Dan. While he still feels the pit of anxiety when talking to a boy it’s getting easier for him to talk to Phil because he makes it easy. Dan finds himself getting a bit giddy every new message that Phil sends him.

hey there soz for late reply had to get some work stuff done. yeah his name is adrian. he’s younger than me and definitely gets spoiled more than me but it’s okay :p lol my parents throw in a couple socks at christmas to make up for it (the best gift ik) hmmm i’ll read it if YOU give it to me yeah? (; that sounded a lot more flirter than i intended for it to be i’m sorry. i think it’s just the winky face that makes it way more inappropriate.

Dan puts his phone down and looks in his fridge for what he can cook for dinner but he already knows that he’ll end up ordering a pizza and catching up on his subscription feed. He knows that he should go out and explore the city more but staying inside and eating pizza and possibly texting Phil most of the night is winning. There’s a feeling that he gets when he remembers that he’s actually talking to someone -- and he knows that this all wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t gotten so stupidly drunk a couple weeks ago but he’s thankful for it.

iv.

Phil asks him out on a date a couple of days later. Dan is out to dinner with friends when he asks. He tries to maintain his composure in the restaurant but inevitably excuses himself to the restroom where he locks himself in the bathroom stall and reads the message over again. And again. And again. And again. It didn’t feel real the more times he looks over the text.

Hey I know that we were just talking about movies but I was wondering if maybe you’d want to go to coffee or dinner or something? Because I really like talking to you and I think we have good conversation and it’d be nice to see you in person? (: If not, it’s cool!

Dan doesn’t care to wait to reply.

i can’t believe this is how you’re asking me out on a date by trying to play it cool, phil. of course i’d love to get ‘coffee or dinner or something’ with you. i’ve been meaning to ask you but you beat me to this first.

Dan is smitten.

The first time they meet Dan is a ball of nerves. It’s at a restaurant that Phil suggested that he likes to eat at a lot in Chinatown. It’s a small hole in the wall, so when Dan and Phil hug its in front of a lot of people and Dan blushes and Phil looks at him intently. They talk about their journey to get to Chinatown. Dan is still getting used to the London transportation and had gotten off the wrong station and had to get back on the tube for a few more stops. Phil has been here for a while now and knows it by heart. He says that Dan will get used to it.

They’re sat in the back of the restaurant but with how close the tables are Dan and Phil are sort of scrunched together.

“I know it’s really cramped in here but the singapore dish is just so good,”

Dan’s voice shakes a little as their date progresses, and he stumbles on his words a lot and he’s trying his best to articulate but Phil stares at him like there’s not another soul in this tiny restaurant. Dan finds himself rambling a lot more than normal. He just has so much to say to someone who will listen to him.

“I’ll say you’re a lot more… chipper? In real life,” Phil laughs a little, stirring the soup and taking another bite.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s easy for him to be on camera, to have that to talk to, but in real life when Dan isn’t comfortable he’s silent, but with Phil it felt easy- effortless, and he’s only known him online but that’s been a lot of relationships with Dan; whether it was friendship or romance, when he’s online he can be more himself and he doesn’t have to worry about what he looks like or what he sounds like or any of the insecurity he harbours but it’s just easier. He has an online persona and sometimes he had to remind himself that he was a real person with feelings and he didn’t owe anyone anything and he was trying to let that part that he was still holding onto go. “I think because I work mainly online it kind of… bleeds into everything and it’s just a delicate balance,” Dan pays for dinner but Phil pays for coffee. There had been a silent agreement that they didn’t want the date to end. So they get coffee and find themselves just walking and talking. Dan is still relishing the fact that Phil remembered that Dan liked Caramel Machiatto’s (with extra caramel).

They talked a lot about what they normally text about -- other than the comment Phil had made, Dan is more lively now that he’s gotten a little bit used to the fact that Phil actually wanted to be here on the date with him. It was hard for him to comprehend that someone might actually like him.

“Why did you join Tinder? Now that I’ve gotten to know you it doesn’t seem… very you?” Phil takes a sip of his drink and Dan laughs a little.

“I know,” he feels the anxiety come back a little. “I’m going to be honest with you,”

When he looks back at Phil he’s listening, with a content smile.

“When I made my Tinder account I was kind of doing it to be ironic? Keep in mind that I was very drunk doing it, and I didn’t even know that we swiped each other until the morning after. And out of all the messages I recieved after all the random swiping I did- I don’t know- I just found myself interested in yours? Since it wasn’t some dumb pickup line and… you’re just easy to talk to,”

After a second Phil just smiles and laughs.

“After that story, I have something to give you,” Phil had brought his backpack with him which wasn’t unusual but Dan was surprised to see it. He had given him Doctor Sleep, and Dan had taken it and smiled.

“You said you’d read it if I gave it to you. I figured if I gave it to you after our first date it would guarantee me a second date,”

Dan is overwhelmed. He shakes his head. “I bet you think you’re smooth,” Dan smirks at him now and then gets closer and gives Phil a hug. It caught Phil off guard but he found himself wrapping his arms around him and it was warm.

vi.

Like many things in life, it takes time. At least that’s what Dan was telling himself as he slowly got to know Phil. After that night of their first date Dan kept running his hands over the book because it was his book, that he brought from home to give to Dan because he was thinking of a second date. He couldn’t begin to explain -- and probably didn’t really want to explain out of embarrassment- the many times he thought of that particular moment.

It had reminded him of a lot of school. There had been a lot of moments where Dan had questioned himself and his sexuality, (and it didn’t help that he went to an all boys school), when a boy that sat in front of him and bent over to pick his fallen pencil and give it back to him with a sweet smile. Dan would try and not stare too much at him but he got lost in other people’s eyes and was dying to make a connection- any connection. It was a lot of guessing of what was real or not, being at an all boy’s school, because he knew that there must have been other boys at his school wondering the same thing.

“The bullies were the worst,” Dan says over a Caramel Machiatto, with extra caramel, they’re sitting on Dan’s couch, Dan has his back against the armrest, his feet spread a little in front of him on his side of the couch while Phil is on the other side. They had made pasta at Dan’s house tonight.

“I remember they used to throw rocks at me for being a little different. If it wasn’t my hair or my voice it was something stupid, like the colour of my belt,” He taps his fingers against his to go cup, and he looks up at Phil who’s doing a lot of listening. He’s wearing his glasses since a lot of today he had been cooped up in an office editing videos for one of his many bosses, and Dan can’t stop thinking of how cute he looks, but he’s trying not to get too distracted.

(Turns out it wasn’t that weird for Phil to find out that Dan was a youtuber. They both were sort of in the same career- Phil made a lot of short films and not that much dialogue, but he mostly edited for other people.)

“That’s a very... strange thing of them to point out,” Phil tries to make a joke about manliness to help ease some of Dan's tension, he ends up placing a hand on Dan’s knee, a gentle squeeze and he lets go.

It was a good point. Dan had always wondered if at least one of his bullies had ever had a crush on Dan since they seemed to call him a lot of name, and he didn’t understand any of it -- Dan was just the guy that listened to a lot of Radiohead and My Chemical Romance and appreciated to read some crappy philosophy book because he saw his dad reading it.

Dan smiled at Phil, there was a silence that often fell over them, it wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact, sometimes they would just sit in the room together and be quiet, and read or go on the internet. They hadn’t kissed yet because Dan was nervous- and each time he tried to go in for a kiss it was like Phil knew that he wasn’t ready, and they wouldn’t say anything, they’d just wrap their arms around the other. The hugs lasted a long time and Dan had never felt more safe.

Dan puts his cup of coffee down on the coffee table and looks at Phil again. It was a new feeling, it felt warm, and gooey- the best way Dan could prescribe it was like when he was a kid going on a roller coaster for the very first time, you anticipate getting up to the top, and you know that any second now the ride will drop and when it does it takes your breath away and you can’t help but want to either yell or laugh, and maybe you did a little bit of both, but there’s a moment of pure ecstasy when you’re going down and it’s a feeling he was afraid that he’d never get back again.

“Can I?” Dan says, getting a little closer to Phil.

In response, Phil nods his head with a smile that’s encouraging.

Dan felt that feeling he felt that first time he ever kissed a boy; he was a bundle of nerves leaning in. When their lips touched it felt soft and quick. Before Dan could think of going in for another kiss Phil had beat him to it, and this time he had made it long and sweet. Dan was trying to think of adjectives that could describe what he felt, but he was all feelings and less logical, and he blanked out when Phil sucked on his bottom lip and pulled away. He felt dizzy, but in a good way. If Dan could spend the rest of his life in such close proximity of Phil, in this moment and small bubble- he would.

vii.

Dan stores every piece of information that Phil gives him about his life, there are areas that they haven’t talked about yet, and it’s not that they were off limits, it’s just that it was hard. Dan didn’t open up to people very much but Phil was a mystery. He wanted to know everything that Phil would give him. Above all though- Dan wanted Phil to be his boyfriend.

The conversation about it didn’t go as planned but that was okay with Dan.

Dan and Phil are making another meal together and they were waiting for the pizza in the oven. Dan was against one side of the kitchen while Phil was on the other, they had been talking about previous bad dates and some were funny, others were sort of sad, both had been stood up once or twice and while it normally didn’t really bother Dan not knowing Phil’s sort of- origin story of his sexuality, he still wanted to know. He knew not to be scared to ask but when talking about someone else’s sexuality it was personal, and Dan understood that.

“How did you know that you liked boys?” Dan can feel his heart rate increase and he gripped the counter for extra support.

Phil kind of laughs a little, “Uh, well. I remember seeing this guy walk past me in a shopping centre, and I was like, ‘Hey, he’s hot,’ and then, ‘Huh Phil? Oh. Wait.’ and you know -- that was that. What about you?”

Dan could see his retell happening, it made him smile.

“I didn’t. And then you know, I met a guy… and we were something -- and then we were nothing.”

“Me too."

When their pizza finished they were quiet, but sitting at the table they had began to ask the other questions about the guys that had once stolen their heart. Dan tells Phil about his first kiss with a boy and how similar but different it felt. He tells him about Erin, and how everyone had sworn that the two of them would have gotten married, but he didn’t love her like that anymore. While he still felt love for her -- it wasn’t the same, and it was a confusing and painful time in his life. His first official crush on a boy had been after that and they weren’t really anything- they messed around a lot but eventually the other boy had moved and inevitably moved on and Dan started youtube.

Dan does learn about a boy named Charlie. Sometimes Phil stopped eating to look at it for a second too long and Dan knew that it had been something real for Phil and important. He won’t say anything, but he’ll think that he’d do anything to make Phil smile, and try and make up for that loss and hurt. There were holes in Dan and Phil that were meant to be there because of the people that had edged their way into their hearts, and they’d stay there, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anymore room to love.

When Phil’s eating his last slice of pizza Dan smiles at him. “Want to be my boyfriend?”

“Hm. I think so.”

And that was the beginning of everything.

viii.

They delete the app together, and hold hands on the sofa, and they make out on Dan’s bed, and subtweet sweet things to each other while they’re laying next to each other. Dan steals a lot of Phil’s shirts and Phil buys Dan a nightlight because he knows that he sometimes is scared of the dark.

Dan’s insecurities flare up sometimes, and he’ll lay on his side and whisper, “Why do you even like me?”

Because everyone else is boring and you're different.

And sometimes that’s enough.

Dan is learning that loving this boy is a work in progress, and it’s new, and different, and familiar all at the same time. If Dan were to rate the love that he felt on a scale of one to ten he’d say that Phil was his ten.

And when he does plan on telling him he loves him, he’ll tell him that he’s his ten. Someday. Soon.

#phanfiction #phanfic #phan #phan fluff #phan romance #phan au #again i need to stop posting so late #eeee this is my new bab

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