#laughing at myself wrt some of this because... fall out boy

[equalseleventhirds]

quick disclaimer before fic: this is not meant to excuse or absolve melanie and georgie of outing jon; what they did was wrong and they should not have done it. instead it is an... examination of a character who is Maybe working some things out but, due to Internalized Issues, is harshly rejecting it both for herself and other people. (i’m aware i wrote something with the exact same FUCKING premise back when i was in the sh*rl*ck fandom dear god don’t read that linked fic it is from a deeply shameful time of fandom i only linked it as proof i did the same thing before. almost like i’m still working through the same stuff via writing fanfiction. hm.) (further discussion on THAT in post-fic notes; i wanted to keep it under the cut for personal reasons.)

furthermore: warning for discussion of sex (but not explicit depictions of sex), characters experiencing aphobia both internalized and not, mention of sexism wrt jobs, characters outing other characters without their consent (more than once, and more than just jon), and mention of consensual but unwanted sex (as in, consent was given, but the consenter did not enjoy it, and consented due to expectations).

- - -

It starts with: “I don’t, I, I usually can’t—Lately. I mean. Lately I can’t.” Melanie shuts her eyes so she won’t have to see Georgie, her hand on the sheets, judgment questions in her eyes. “Since I got—shot. It’s more difficult, is all.”

“Melanie—”

“You can still try,” she says, the words falling too fast, too panicked. “If you want, sometimes other people—and it’s fine! I’m always, it’s fine to try. Sometimes I do. I just might not. You know.”

“You might not orgasm,” Georgie finishes for her. It’s hard to tell how she’s feeling about it—until her fingers brush Melanie’s chin, turning her face up.

Reluctantly, Melanie opens her eyes, and then she’s glad she did. Because Georgie’s smiling, not a mocking smile, gentle. And they said this was just, just casual, just between friends (there’s too much going on with ghosts and the Institute and Georgie’s ex sleeping on her couch when he isn’t being kidnapped for it to be more than that), but Melanie’s glad Georgie is smiling.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Georgie says. She’s sitting up now, not lying almost-not-quite between Melanie’s legs anymore. She looks gorgeous, naked and cross-legged on that horrible mattress with a microfiber sheet wrapped around her shoulders, and Melanie wants to curl up in the sheet with her and eat the leftover pizza from earlier and fall asleep together with grease on their hands.

No. Focus. “It’s okay,” Georgie says again, gentler. “If you can’t right now. If you don’t want to. You certainly gave me a lovely orgasm—”

“—or three—”

“—yes, thank you, and if you’d rather just call it there, I’m not pushing it. As long as you enjoyed yourself.” She frowns, suddenly, glancing down at Melanie’s hands. “You… did enjoy yourself? I hope we didn’t—”

“I did!” She always does, when it’s other people coming, when she gets to be touching warm skin and watching someone fall apart. It’s… nice. “It’s just, you know. I got shot.”

(And isn’t that a convenient excuse, she sneers in her own head, and it sounds like Toni refusing to come back to the team, it sounds like the most sarcastic videos about her breakdown, it sounds like Elias. Isn’t it convenient that now you can blame your little problem on blood flow, or nerve endings, or stress. Never mind that you didn’t have those excuses a year ago. Or two years. Or back when you had a real girlfriend, and you always said yes but she got tired before—)

Georgie tucks a strand of hair behind Melanie’s ear. “Okay, good. If we, you know, try this again sometime? If you’re feeling better? Then I can try.” She stops, licks her lips, watches Melanie’s expression. “Or I can… not try, if you’d still prefer that. Later. You know. If.”

“I’m not—” And she’s rushing again, always rushing, she doesn’t even know if she and Georgie will ever—

“No, I know! It’s fine! But like—Look, this isn’t exactly new for me, you know? If that’s something you want. Something you don’t want. Or I, I’m saying it’s not a problem, if you do or don’t want me to make you come in the future, or even if you don’t want to have sex at all, I mean, when we were dating Jon didn’t—”

That’s where Georgie stops, as if talking about Jon is too much, as if she hasn’t been speaking Melanie’s secret insecurities out loud in bed like it’s something they can talk about, as if all of this hasn’t already been too much and too terrifying already.

Melanie stands up, grabs the comforter as a makeshift cloak (because Georgie has the sheet, and suddenly she isn’t sure she wants to share the sheet with her). “Right.”

“I’m just—I have a friend. Who you might talk to, if you wanted to talk about this.”

She steps away from the bed, towards the door. “Sure. Pizza? I’m hungry.”

-

The problem is, Melanie doesn’t much like Jon. He was such a dick about the Youtube thing, and about her statement, and about Sasha. And even though she knows (sort of) that part of it hadn’t been his fault, she still isn’t going to talk over her disinterest in sex with him. It’s mortifying. Even if he wasn’t her boss. And Georgie’s ex. And currently out of the Archives, anyway.

But she wants to talk to somebody, about Georgie’s words running around and around and around her head, about the sheer panic mixing with almost-relief and then the visceral no no no churning low in her stomach that had made it a struggle just to choke down her pizza. She wants to ask someone is this normal, am I allowed, is it even enough to be halfway to ‘not at all’ or should I just suck it up. She wants to talk that out desperately.

It’s just… she doesn’t have many friends left, after her whole fall from Youtube ghost hunter grace. She’s not going to ask Georgie about it, any more than Jon, although for pretty much the opposite reason. Who’s left? Her shiny new coworkers? Tim, who seethes and hates everything and everyone in the Archives? Martin, who’s still upset that Jon so much as spoke to her while he was on the run? Basira?

-

When Melanie met Sasha—the real Sasha, the one apparently no one but her even remembers—she’d been the only woman in the Archives. And Melanie had chatted with her about haunted pubs, and maximizing SEO, and how to talk to people who’d seen a white dog while they were drunk and thought it was a ghost. And about their jobs, of course, which led to both of them scoffing about the sexist bullshit of academia and how someone like Sasha could be just an assistant and the only woman on her team.

And then Elias hired Melanie to replace… the thing that replaced Sasha. Hired another woman to replace the only woman. You learn to see patterns from the kind of person who might say diversity the same way as toilet plunger: something necessary, but distasteful. Melanie was filling a role he needed filled, and she could live with that.

And then Basira.

Who wasn’t there because she wanted to be, of course, but was still there. Was still another woman in the boy’s club of terror they’d apparently signed on for. Could maybe, maybe, be someone Melanie could connect with. Someone she could talk to.

Maybe.

-

“Do you know if he and Jon ever…?”

“No clue, and not interested!” She’s laughing, about to just dismiss it out of hand, but… maybe. She can feel the questions she never asked Georgie, the words sharpening their claws on the edges of her mind. The no, not me, not allowed sinking in her gut.

“Although…” Make it light. Make it interesting. Make it about someone else. How to hook an audience without having a public breakdown and becoming a— “According to Georgie, Jon… doesn’t.”

It feels wrong as soon as she says it. Like she’s dirty. Like she’s lying. Like a thousand eyes are looking at her, watching her, waiting for more. Make it a story. Engage your audience. Like it’s 2013 in a convention hotel room and Pete just told everyone Don’t worry, Mel likes girls actually, and even though they were all fine about it that moment of sharpshock terror in her throat as they all looked—

“Like, at all?”

The one thing she never learned was how to stop talking. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, that does explain some stuff.”

And that’s… it, really. That does explain some stuff. Jon is a dick, has always been a dick, overfocused on work and not on other people, and that does explain some stuff. Right. Yes. Like her last girlfriend had told her, about all you do is work, I can’t even get you off. An explanation, just like she always knew it would be.

It doesn’t really matter. She has a boss to go kill.

-

“I think,” she says, slow, like every word is being dragged out of her, “that I might not like. Sex. As much as, you know, people do.”

“You’re a person,” her therapist says, firm, and she has to bite back a sarcastic laugh.

“Right. ‘Course.”

- - -

post-fic notes: i myself personally have previously identified as: heteroromantic gray-ace, heteroromantic ace, aroace, aro gray-ace, aro bi, bi, arospec bi, aro bi again, and aro bi but sex ambivalent. part of that has been natural progression and change; part of that was bcos some people i considered friends got very into aphobic discourse, and i internalized a lot of what they said. in recent months i have been examining my sex ambivalence (sometimes repulsion) and considering what that means about whether or not i am on the ace spectrum. i’m still thinking about these things. i’m still, deep down inside, afraid of the aphobic people i respected and cared about hearing about this.

in part i wrote this to work through some of My Own Shit regarding this. in part i wrote this bcos i will get my grubby little aspec hands (bcos regardless of anything else, i am aspec, whether that’s ace or aro) on every character i can. yes, even the ones who did an objectively shitty thing to jon, the one canonical ace character. bcos sometimes people (like me) internalize things and make mistakes.

#absolutely not beta'd or britpicked or even edited much #i needed to get this out and now it's late but i'm WORKING THROUGH SOME STUFF #uhhhh ambiguous ending about melanie's like! decisions! identity! feelings! #ambiguous if she or georgie EVER talk to JON #nothing is resolved! nothing is fucking good and light and happy! it's all MESSY #it's also so long i'm so sorry but melanie spent a lot of time looking at georgie and then a lot in emotional turmoil so like #what can ya do. #anyway. fuck it. posting a thing. #fanfiction #algie writes things #the magnus archives #hopefully i have rambled long enough this doesn't get maintagged sry if it does ignore me i needed this for ME #and i guess like. i do want other ppl to read it. but i do not want to maintag it. u kno how it is. #NOW WITH EDITING

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 6

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 4,036 for this chapter (25,168 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Dan has been wearing a line into the carpet of his hotel room, pacing back and forth for what feels like hours. He's muttering to himself, tugging at his hair whenever he gets especially worked up, and only spares a moment to consider what a weird image he makes for anyone who might come in.

"I'm gay," he says out loud, over and over, trying desperately to make it sound like it belongs there.

He rewatches Phil's coming out video a few times to remind himself how easy and happy Phil made it sound, but he can't seem to recreate that energy alone in his room.

No matter how many times Dan says it, the word 'gay' still makes his heart race and his gut clench like he's gone over the drop of a rollercoaster. His pulse pounds in his ears when he imagines saying it to another person, someone he cares about, someone who might hate him for it.

It's just a word. It's just a word, and it's basically who he is. It shouldn't be this hard to say.

His phone goes off with a Twitter notification, but he can't handle that right now. He turns his phone off without reading the message from Phil and keeps pacing.

--

"How did you deal with this for like twenty years?" Jaime complains, watching the rain fall almost horizontally outside the window.

"I didn't live here," says Dan. He steals some of her chips while she isn't looking.

"London wasn't much better."

They're holed up in one of the numerous tiny pubs in Dublin while they wait for Patrick to finish a solo interview and photoshoot. Dan likes it here, liked it in Edinburgh too, but he's been more or less working on autopilot. His mind is in a dog park in Soho, where Phil has been sending pictures from all afternoon. Pictures that he hasn't responded to.

"I like London," Dan says absently. He pretends not to understand the knowing look Jaime sends him. "What?"

"Sure, you liiiiike London," she teases, smacking his hand away from her plate.

"I do!" Dan huffs. "I always wanted to live in London when I was a teenager. It was, like, the dream. And I think it's probably still where I'll be ending up eventually."

"And a cute guy with a cuter dog has absolutely nothing to do with that?" Jaime asks, sipping at her beer.

Dan feels his stomach twist. It's not pleasant, having someone assume something about you, even if that thing is true. He looks down at his own hands and shrugs. "No, I mean. I'd want London anyway. I just kind of want it... more, now."

"You never actually answered my drunk texts. How long have you been together?"

"We aren't together, James," says Dan. His throat is tight with suppressed emotion. This is the first time he has spoken out loud about his attraction to a guy to someone that matters to him. It's fucking terrifying. "I - I like him, though."

"I can tell," says Jaime. She kicks at his shin under the table and smiles when he gives her a reproachful look. "Don't call me James, or I'll call you Dan."

With a snort, Dan steals more of her chips. "Fine."

They eat in a fairly comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of their plates acting more like communal food, and Dan almost thinks he'll be able to get away with the topic being dropped.

"He likes you too, y'know," Jaime says, bursting that hope. "In case you couldn't tell that he eyefucks you constantly."

Dan feels his face heat up and resists the urge to throw something at her. The server in this very Irish pub has been nice to them so far, but causing a scene as a Brit and a Yank doesn't sound like the best plan. "Shut up."

"I'm serious, Daniel," she laughs. "You really can't tell?"

"No," Dan says, affecting an annoyed sort of sigh. "I mean, yeah, no, I can definitely tell that he would be up for it if I asked."

"Why haven't you asked, then?"

He could tell her any number of half-truths, and she'd accept them as whole answers. Not wanting to fuck up their immediate connection, the whole ocean between them thing, or any other justification he's been muttering to himself while he paces around his hotel rooms.

The thing is, though, that Dan trusts Jaime. She's never told anyone any of the stupid shit he does when it's just them. Neither has Patrick, for that matter, but he's not here right now. And Dan doesn't think he can say this twice.

"Because," he says, swallowing hard and looking at the table. "Nobody knows I like boys. I don't even like to think about it too much, usually."

Dan can practically hear his heart pounding. He jumps a bit when Jaime's small, dark hand covers one of his, and she gives it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey," she says quietly. "I didn't mean to push."

"You're fine," Dan says, and he means it. "I kind of need to think about it now, anyway."

"Because of Phil?" Jaime asks. When he nods and looks back up at her, she smiles. "You seem good together. I've never seen you look so happy, Daniel."

"I don't think I've ever been this happy," Dan admits. His palms are sweating. "And I know I haven't, like, known him that long or whatever, but. Did you know I used to be a fan of his back in the day? He was kind of a role model for teenage Daniel. If I'd have known he was gay back then... I don't know. Maybe I'd have been able to admit that about myself, too."

The label doesn't actually leave Dan's lips, not applied to himself, but he still feels like he's got hundreds of eyes on him. It's just Jaime's, though, big and dark and kind, and he tries to breathe through it.

"That's a very brave thing to tell me," says Jaime.

"Sorry," Dan says, nonsensically.

Jaime laughs, a trill of a noise that makes the dim, rainy day feel brighter. "Oh, you're dumb dumb."

"Only sometimes," says Dan. He's fighting a losing battle with a grin.

"Do you want to be with Phil?" she asks, so blunt about it that Dan is at a loss for words.

He pulls his hand away from hers to play around with his phone, a nervous habit he's never really been able to kick. "I mean, yeah. I do. But it's really not that simple."

With a little hum, Jaime rests her chin on one of her palms. She's beautiful in a way Dan can appreciate beautiful art, beautiful clothing; she's not beautiful the way he finds Phil beautiful, the way he's found men beautiful for years and tried so hard to push away.

"I guess not, but I also know you pretty well by now, Howell," says Jaime. "You've never met a problem you can't twist into something worse."

A little rude. But very true.

"What do you suggest, then?" Dan snarks. "Tell the world I'm - and deal with the consequences of that? People back in Georgia already hate me for so much other shit, I doubt this will make it any fucking better."

"I suggest just being honest with yourself," says Jaime, ignoring the rest of his mini strop.

Being honest with himself is not something Dan has made a habit of doing. And he probably could live the rest of his life pushing this aside, stamping it down, lying through his teeth to the people around him, but. It sounds like a pretty shit way to live, if Dan is going to try the honesty thing right now.

He remembers how it felt to be leaning into Phil's space in the big hotel bed, remembers the way Phil had smiled at him every time he pulled Thor into a cuddle, remembers the deliberate circles Phil had traced on the back of his neck when they said goodbye at his flat.

That's something he wants. Dan is craving that, the intimacy and familiarity of it that he knows he'll never fully be able to feel with any nice, beautiful girls like Jaime.

He could probably do it, anyway. Meet a woman. Marry her. Have the kids he's always wanted. Maybe he'll even find someone who doesn't mind adopting so he doesn't have to live in fear of his child getting his fucked up genes. If he's very, very lucky, he might even find someone who doesn't mind this thing he's been keeping a lid on since he hit puberty.

The fear that strikes in Dan's heart as he imagines exactly what it would be like to keep living like this is what decides it for him.

"I don't want to," Dan starts, then stops. He has to think about his words and not just respond to his inner thoughts like a weirdo. "I mean... I don't want to lie. It's really, really exhausting. I just didn't have a good enough reason not to."

"So what are you gonna do?" Jaime hums.

"What d'you mean?"

"Are you going to come out, like, to the general public?" Jaime asks, and Dan appreciates the nonchalance of her tone. "Or just me and Phil?"

"I don't know," says Dan. "I think I'd tell Patrick, too."

Jaime smiles and pats his hand. "Oh, darlin', he was in that room, too. I think he has an inkling."

"I can't tell other people until I tell my family," Dan says like she hasn't interrupted. "It just wouldn't be right, y'know, them finding out because a friend of a friend saw a piece in The Sun about how much I like sucking cock."

A cackle is startled out of Jaime, and she covers her mouth with both hands. "Daniel!"

"What?" Dan does his best to look innocent, but he's cracking into a shit-eating grin before he can stop it. "That's what would happen!"

"Horrible boy," she says.

"I didn't do anything."

"Please don't come out to your parents by telling them you like dick," says Jaime.

Dan shudders. "Ugh. Can we never talk about my parents and dick in the same sentence again? Thanks ever so."

"You started it!"

They're still bickering when Patrick finally joins them, sliding into the booth beside Jaime and knocking his long legs against Dan's in greeting. "Did y'all eat already?"

"Yeah, you want something?" Jaime asks, handing over the menu they'd kept for him.

While Patrick looks it over, his fingers idly tapping against the thick wood of the table, Dan steels his nerves. He knows he doesn't need to do this, he's got no obligation, but he also knows that this is a safe environment and he might never do it if he procrastinates much longer.

"Shepherd's pie sounds good," says Patrick.

"I'm gay," says Dan.

"Okay," says Patrick, not looking up. "Or maybe a curry? D'you think it's good curry here?"

Dan blinks. "I said, I'm gay."

"And I said okay." Patrick looks at him then, raising his eyebrows. "Did you want me to scream or something? It's not like it's a big deal."

It's a big deal to Dan. It's a really big deal. But he's touched by Patrick and Jaime's easy acceptance anyway, trying his best not to get emotional in the middle of the pub. He wants to explain himself, wants to say that he's never said those words to someone before, wants to cry and hug them both so tightly because they're his friends and he cares about them, but that would be overdramatic even for him.

"Thanks," he says instead, his voice thick with suppressed emotion. "The curry sounds good, mate."

"It does," Patrick agrees, and that's the end of that.

--

As if he knows that Dan has been having his videos on for four nights straight, falling asleep to his voice and waking up twelve autoplayed videos later, Phil uploads a new video that night.

Dan is pretending like he's going to sleep, all the lights off and his laptop away and everything, because he's got breakfast radio in the very early hours of the morning and he wants to at least try to be a functional human during it. But then he gets a notification for Phil's new video while he scrolls through Reddit, and he clicks on it without a second thought.

"Hi guys," the Phil on Dan's phone says, grinning and waving. Dan's breath catches, just a bit.

That's the outfit Phil was wearing when Dan came over and watched MasterChef with him. He was in Phil's flat during the filming of the last couple of minutes.

Logically, he knows that he's been in Phil's home, that he's been behind the scenes of AmazingPhil in a way that he never would have dreamed he'd be able to. It still fucking rattles him, though. He pays more attention to the jump cuts in the video - where, most likely, Thor had been bugging for attention - and desperately wishes he could remember which one was for Dan, which slice of unused footage was Phil telling him he wanted Chinese food.

"So I guess I won't be going back to Seven Dials for a while," says Phil, wrapping up yet another story that Dan forgot to pay attention to. He starts doing his outro, tells people to subscribe and all that jazz, says goodbye, rolls that beautiful Thor footage.

There's still a minute left on the video. Dan thinks he knows why.

Sure enough, after a beat of a black screen, Phil has included a blooper montage of all the times Thor interrupted his story. It's adorable, watching Phil get tongue tied and giggly while Thor licks at his face or does the zoomies around the room. Dan's heart feels full to burst at how badly he wants to be there again.

Will Phil include it? Dan's breath is caught in his throat as he waits, watching Phil's face so carefully to see what it does when - if - he says Dan's name.

Phil's lips curl into a different sort of smile than the one he'd been giving Thor. This one is warm in a way that makes Dan's pulse pick up speed, even seeing it on such a small screen. Finally, finally, Phil says, "Dan. Are you growling at Thor?"

He sounds like he's trying to be stern, but he can't quite accomplish it with that smile of his.

Then, Dan's own voice comes through. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Phil's smile grows, gives him deep crinkles around his eyes. He looks so fucking fond. Dan doesn't think it's all for Thor. "I'm literally filming right now."

Dan whines, "He's just so cute," and then the video ends for real. Phil is smiling off-camera so genuinely, but autoplay is already suggesting another AmazingPhil video for Dan. With a resigned sort of sigh, he lets it play.

For about two weeks now, Dan has been figuring that, while Phil is a flirtatious guy who most likely wouldn't say no to a roll in the sheets, he doesn't actually have feelings for Dan or anything crazy like that. How could he, when they've known each other for such a short amount of time? How does Dan have all these feelings already?

But the way that Phil smiled when he was talking to Dan, and Dan wasn't looking back at him, is making Dan's head spin.

Fuck. He's got a lot to think about.

--

If people keep telling Dan he looks tired, he's going to snap.

He didn't get any sleep at all, really, his mind in fucking overdrive all night as he tipped over the box in his mind and let it all wash over him at once. He doesn't feel better, not yet, still exhausted and anxious and really, desperately not wanting to be sat in a radio station with his costars.

Unlike the BBC Radio One interview, this one is live on breakfast radio. Dan is trying not to think about that too much, or he's going to have back sweat all over his favourite shirt.

The shirt still smells like Phil.

It's distracting.

Dan hasn't responded to the Thor photos that Phil sent him yesterday or this morning, too wrapped up in his own brain as he's been. He hopes that Phil won't be offended, because - well, Dan isn't the best texter in general, he might as well get used to bouts of silence.

His leg is bouncing as Jaime establishes a rapport with the radio host, whose name Dan has been told at least a dozen times. Gun to his head, he could not recall it now.

He's too busy thinking about Phil. And maybe that's a mistake, unprofessional at the very least, but Dan can't help it. He can smell the faintest hint of Phil's cologne when he puts the collar of his t-shirt over his nose and his hands keep twitching, remembering what it felt like to be held by Phil's.

Mind completely full of Phil and lack of sleep, Dan can't really be blamed for not paying attention to his surroundings.

This is his excuse, anyway, when the radio host introduces himself again for the audience - in one ear and out the fucking other for Dan - and Dan's response, after Patrick and Jaime have said their names, is to say, "Hi, I'm Phil."

There's a beat of complete silence before Jaime breaks it, honking into her microphone and covering her mouth. Dan's brain catches up with his mouth, then, and he feels himself turn brick red.

"Daniel's been up all night," Patrick says dryly. "Apparently, he had to get three stars on Rainbow Road."

The idea that Dan didn't already have three stars on Rainbow Road is offensive, but he takes the life vest Patrick is throwing him. "Hah, yeah, sorry. I'm Daniel, and hopefully that'll be the most embarrassing thing I do today. I have a bit of a knack for it, if you didn't know."

Dan already knows he'll be clowned for this one for a while, judging by the sheer glee on Jaime's face, but he's determined to make it through the rest of the interview without forgetting his own name again.

Sure enough, they've barely said their goodbyes to the host and left the studio when Jaime crows, "'Hi, I'm Phil'? Holy shit, Howell!"

"I'm going to take a walk off a very short pier. 'Scuse me."

"It's not the worst thing you've ever done," says Patrick. His lips are twitching with either amusement or disapproval. Dan is guessing it's the former. "I mean, it's up there. But you've done way worse. Like do you remember the time -"

"That's not actually helpful," Dan says.

"Sorry, Phil," says Patrick.

Dan reaches for his throat with both hands and Patrick ducks out of the door with a bright laugh.

He's reluctant to check his phone the rest of the morning, because he can only imagine the cyberbullying he's going to endure from his fans over that slip of the tongue. Especially if they've already figured out that he was the 'Dan' at the end of Phil's video. Most people might not make the connection, since nobody really calls him that, but Dan has tweeted about Phil's videos and Phil has posted photos of them with Thor, so. It wouldn't take a fucking detective.

Once Dan's phone starts ringing with a call, though, he kind of has to deal with it. He's playing Guild Wars, so he puts the phone on speaker as quickly as possible. Only two people call him, so he doesn't even bother taking his eyes off the raid to look at the caller ID.

"Hullo?"

"Hi," Phil's voice comes through the tinny speaker. He sounds like he's already on the verge of laughter, and Dan considers hanging up.

Still, he's glad it's Phil calling and not his agent. Amy can be very intimidating, even all the way from Los Angeles, and he can't imagine that she's going to be thrilled about all the fuckups he's had on this leg of the tour.

Dan sighs loud enough to be heard through the phone. "Hello, Phil."

"Oh, am I Phil? I thought you were Phil!"

"Very funny."

"Or are we all Phil?"

The bright chirp of Phil's voice makes Dan smile despite himself. He narrowly avoids getting murked in the game because he's too fucking busy mooning over a boy. Christ.

"Are we human or are we Phil?" Dan asks, overly dry in case his smile shines through the way Phil's is.

Phil giggles. That's quickly becoming one of Dan's favourite sounds. He can practically picture the tongue between the teeth. "You big dork. How did that even happen? Like, walk me through your thought process."

"Isn't it abundantly fucking clear that I didn't have a thought process?" Dan whines.

"I was just wondering if you had some kind of explanation," says Phil. He still sounds far too amused. Dan wants to be annoyed about it, but he can't even pretend like a happy Phil is something he doesn't want. "Because you've done a lot of stupid shit in interviews, Dan, but you've never forgotten your own name before."

"Thanks," says Dan.

"Oh, you know what I mean," says Phil.

Dan shrugs even though he's well aware Phil can't see him. "I dunno, I didn't really sleep last night, and then being in a radio station made me think about you."

That's definitely a half-truth. Dan hasn't stopped thinking about Phil for almost two weeks now.

He'd been hoping maybe some distance would help. Weekend in Edinburgh, couple nights in Dublin. Perfect to get his head on straight - or, not straight, as it happens - and start separating his feelings for Phil from the all-consuming endorphins of fast friendship.

If anything, though, being physically away from Phil has only drawn attention to how badly Dan wants him to be there. Hearing Phil's voice when they're on different islands is just solidifying those feelings into something not easily removed in Dan's chest.

"You were thinking about me?" Phil asks, and he sounds so warm, even as he's making fun of Dan.

God. Dan wants to be there. He wants to see the way Phil's eyes crinkle with his smile, wants to feel the weight of Phil's cool hand in his own.

They've still got another night in Dublin before they can head back, but. There's only one more interview, surely nobody will miss his awkward presence that much?

Dan checks the time as soon as he finishes his raid. It's barely noon. He bites his lip. The whole day is still ahead of him.

Is he really thinking about doing this?

"Maybe," he says. "Hold on, I need to - do something. I'll text you. Like, I'll actually text you."

"Okay," Phil agrees, sounding a bit bewildered but still just as cheerful.

"I promise that I'll text you," Dan says. He's really, really bad at texting people back at the best of times, let alone when he's in the midst of a proper existential crisis, but he'll have a lot of time with nothing but his phone when he's - hopefully - sat at the airport.

"Okay," Phil says again, even warmer.

It would take no effort at all for Dan to get lost in that voice, but he's a man on a mission. Provided that Jaime and Patrick are okay with it, he's going to skive off tomorrow's interview and head back to London early.

He won't even try to pretend it isn't for Phil. He's got to ride this deep-seated certainty as far as it'll take him. And it isn't going to be like a movie, he isn't rushing off to the airport to catch his one true love or anything like that, he just. Misses Phil. Wants to be with Phil. Maybe he'll kiss Phil, but that's as rom-com as he plans to get.

"I'll see you soon," says Dan. "I have to ask Jaime and Patrick something."

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #dnp fic #can't breathe when you touch my sleeve #words words words