Work Text:
Dan Howell walked down the unusually empty street with hunched shoulders, eyes slipping over the TD Bank on the corner (wow, they really never close, do they?) and the McDonalds across the street in favor of the glowing - maybe not actually glowing, but it sure felt like it - green Starbucks sign a block and a half ahead of them. They glanced into the nearest shop window and saw their image reflected back at them: a sopping wet flower crown balanced on wildly curly hair, an oversized white varsity jacket with sleeves that reached to their fingertips, and a pair of dark red Doc Martens that squelched with every step they took.
Looking down, Dan couldn’t help but notice the color discrepancy- the left leg of their ripped skinny jeans was almost definitely a darker shade of black than their right (if that's even possible), but they supposed it was just the result of their bulging messenger bag protecting their right leg from the downpour. Which - okay, yes, the weather in New York can be a bit ridiculous at times, but. It was July. Was this really necessary? They had gotten a fucking flash flood warning not five minutes ago, and it felt like something out of the movies.
Dan reached the doorway of Starbucks and started to pull the door open, sighing lightly under their breath when the door didn’t budge. They started to push at the door instead (what the hell is this made out of, anyway?), allowing themself a tiny grin when the door swung open and they were greeted with a blast of hot air. Dan’s eyes scanned the store, noting the empty table sticking out from the wall (odd, considering the weather, but whatever) and rushing to put their bag on one of the chairs.
They grabbed their phone and wallet from their bag (they made sure to double check their wallet for their debit card; they’d lost count of how many times they’d gone to pull out their debit card, only to realize they’d put it in their bag at some point) and walked over to the line winding behind the register. Dan shoved their wallet into their pocket, grabbing their headphones as well and pulling up their Spotify. Head bobbing to the music, Dan only just noticed when they reached the counter and smiled awkwardly at the cashier as they stepped up to the register.
Black and green hair tucked tightly into cornrows, showcasing a warmly tanned face; a flat nose, a full mouth. The standard Starbucks uniform - black shirt, apron (colored a shade of green that was probably copyrighted) tied above wide hips. Black skinny jeans, cuffs shoved into blue and grey sneakers. “Hey there,” ‘Katrina’ said. The cashier flashed a smile that almost seemed genuine. “How are you today?”
“I’m doing fine,” Dan replied with a smile on their face, slinging their Apple headphones around their neck. “How about you?”
“I’m doin’ fine, thanks. What can I get you?” Dan started.
“Oh! Yeah, sorry, I’ll have a- uhm. Grande caramel macchiato, with one of those cheese danishes, please?” Katrina nodded politely. Short nails tapped at the screen in between them, and a hand reached out to Dan, waggling elegant fingers in their direction.
“That’ll be $7.50. Cash or credit?”
“Yeah- credit, thanks.” Dan dug their wallet out of the huge pockets in their jacket (holy shit, god bless men’s clothes, seriously) and pulled out their debit card, inserting it into the card reader and pulling it back out.
“Alrighty. Name?”
“Dan.”
“Alright, Dan. They'll be calling your name in a minute.” Dan nodded their assent.
They grinned at the cashier as they walked away (and so what if it still gives them a little thrill every time someone calls them by the right name?), and put their headphones back into their ears. The brunette belatedly realized that music had been playing the whole time (with the last bars of getting it on by SALES ringing in their ears), but mentally shrugged- they had a portable charger in their bag, and there was (conveniently enough) an outlet right next to their table.
Dan sat heavily in the chair with their bag on it, huffing as they did so (they’re twenty-one and already turning into an old man, jesus christ) but taking in the room with a lingering smile on their face.
They could still remember the first time that had happened- where someone had just gone along with their name and pronouns. It was when they were in high school - they’d been in the GSA club before they’d even realized they weren’t cis, but come their sophomore year they’d asked everyone in the club to use different pronouns, and they all just... Agreed? Dan had to admit, it was a weird sensation; even at that point, they had already been used to people trying to find ways around using the right name or pronouns (or even just flat-out denying them the ‘privilege’). To get that sort of thing now- where people would look at him and just think Oh yeah, that’s Dan? It felt absolutely incredible.
“Caramel macchiato and cheese danish for Dan!” someone announced. Dan hopped out of their chair again and grabbed the food, smiling their thank you to the worker behind the counter. They headed back to their table and set the drink and food on the countertop, pulling a laptop and their journal out of their bag.
One of Dan’s favorite things to do when they had work and it was rainy was finding the nearest coffee shop and letting the noise around them lull them into a rhythm - they had found that it was the best recipe for success, especially when it came to their work. Today they were hugely grateful for it, especially because they had a chemistry essay to finish, and they were only halfway through with it. Dan knew somewhere in the back of their mind that it was due in roughly half a week, but he really couldn’t afford to miss any more assignments.
Time passed, songs played, more caramel macchiatos were ordered, and -
“Hey- sorry to bother you, but is it okay if I sit here?”
Dan didn’t bother looking up from the textbook they had eventually placed in their lap, choosing instead to grab a worksheet from their bag and study it intensely. “Not interested, thanks,” they snapped lowly with a sarcastic quirk of their lips and a short head shake. No matter how many people accepted them, this sort of thing happened enough - hetero/cis/whatevernormative people assuming something about them based on the way they looked, or acted, or (god forbid) dressed, for God’s sake - that they knew how to go through the motions of shutting somebody down without showing how much it hurt. Maybe it was presumptuous of them, to assume that was what the stranger was doing, but was it a crime to feel safe rather than sorry?
A pause, and then - “Oh. I mean? I-I didn’t think you were? But, uh, I’ll just. Find another place to sit, I guess. That’s-that’s fine.” Dan’s head snapped up, simultaneously yanking out their headphones and taking in the clearly nervous form of the person standing in front of them.
Dan’s first thought was Holy shit, this guy is tall. Compared to Dan’s measly 5’6”, this guy seemed like a tower, and Dan estimated no less than 6 feet, at least. Cropped black hair, fashioned in a style similar to what theirs had been like before they decided to go curly. Bright blue - no, green - no, yellow - eyes, framed by a pair of thick and square glasses that Dan would assume were fake (all for the aesthetic - they’d do it too, if they lost any more dignity) if not for the thick and obviously prescription lenses inside of them. A black tank top with the words “MY TASTE IN MUSIC IS YOUR FACE” written in red and white; the word “FACE” is crossed out with white ink. Dark red jeans with the cuffs rolled up, black Converses with rainbow laces, a dark red cardigan that seemed to swallow them whole (in a good way?). A tall black umbrella - Dan could see a hint of sky blue on the inside. A hipster. Why is it that the only times they’ve ever been preemptively rude to people, they ended up not deserving it?
“Shit. Sorry! I just- I dunno, I get a lot of? Whatever, people are weird, but! Yeah, of course, you can sit here, no problem!” Dan scanned the table in front of them, belatedly realizing that they had taken up nearly the entire space with almost-empty coffee cups and chemistry notes that they used once and never looked at again. They blushed fiercely, avoiding the look of wry amusement that was sure to be on the stranger’s face, and busied themself with swiping their papers into their bag and carrying the cups to the trash.
“Sorry about that,” they apologized, smiling sheepishly.
“No worries!” Hipster smiled gratefully, eyes crinkling at the corners, and plopped a galaxy-styled bag onto the floor, dashing away to (presumably) grab something to drink. The stranger came back with a disposable cup and a brownie (shit, Dan kind of wanted a brownie now) and plopped down into the chair opposite Dan. They reached into the galaxy-styled bag lying on the floor next to them and pulled out a plain black sketchbook and a blue pencil bag with the words “get carried away” printed in gold, scripted ink, immediately opening the book to a page full of some sort of half-finished abstract piece.
Silence ensued; after a couple of minutes of observing both the stranger across the table from them and the rest of the coffee shop, Dan let themself shift their focus back to the conclusion of the godforsaken essay they were still working on. They put their headphones back in, smiling softly at the sound of Nina Simone, and got to work.
“... which, therefore, enforces the conclusion that radioactive elements can be used for a multitude of purposes over the course of their lifetimes." Dan sighed in relief as they typed the last word, and barely noticed the series of short knocks that sounded against the wooden tabletop.
They glanced up to see the stranger with a fist poised above the table and an awkward smile. Dan smiled back and paused Drummer Boy (by MisterWives - the band had opened at the last concert Dan went to, and they were hooked), pulling out their headphones and snapping closed their laptop with a cocked head. “What’s up?”
“Sorry to bother you,” they mumbled, rubbing their neck, “but, uhm- I realized I. Don’t have your pronouns? Sorry if that sounds really weird, but I’d rather not fuck it up, y’know?”
Dan’s previously hesitant smile widened into a grin - they weren’t trying to be pretentious, but they knew better than most how difficult it was to find someone who just asked for pronouns instead of assuming. In Dan’s experience, the only people who’d ever asked them about stuff like that had been people that already knew what it was like to be misgendered - or were close to someone who did.
“Oh! Yeah - it’s they/them, thanks. My name’s Dan, by the way. What’s yours?”
Hipster started to speak but seemed to reconsider their words. “Name or pronouns?” they asked, letting out a small chuckle.
Fuck. Dan drew in a sudden breath and felt their face contort into a full-fledged cringe, eliciting a larger bout of laughter from the stranger. “Sorry! Sorry - fuck, my mind is frazzled, oh my God. Both, if you don’t mind?”
“Yeah, of course! Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” The stranger’s lingering laughter faded into an easy grin, and its infectious nature eased Dan into a responding smile without realizing. “Phil, and he/him. It’s lovely to meet you!”
Phil reached a pale hand over the table and Dan grasped it firmly, admiring the stark contrast in their hands - Phil’s hand was so large that it seemed to overwhelm theirs, much like the jacket sleeves they had pushed up to their elbows.
“So. What are you working on? It almost looked like you were ready to stab the damn keyboard with the amount of force you were putting into your typing.” Dan flushed, brushing a hand through their still-damp hair and rubbing it against the back of their neck.
“Ha - you probably don’t want to hear about it. I mean, I’m fairly good at chemistry, but even I know-”
“Chemistry?” Phil’s face lit up almost immediately, and Dan felt their cheeks heating up again. Looking at Phil’s smile felt like gazing into the sun, and they thought absentmindedly that if they stared for too long, they might be blinded.
They couldn’t say they’d mind.
“My favorite science is definitely plant biology - because holy shit I love plants so much - but chemistry is super cool too! I loved the titration unit - y’know, when you had to mix the solutions and the identifiers or whatever? It was so cool! The colors were all swirly; I felt like I was in the movies.” Dan grinned.
“Oh man, I know exactly what you mean. We finished that unit a while ago, so this paper is on radioactive elements- y’know, like carbon-14 and stuff? Yeah, we had to look into possible alternative…”
“Hey- really sorry to bother you guys, but we’re actually closing up now? So…” Dan jumped, having been cut off in the middle of explaining of why they stopped straightening their hair by the awkwardly shifting employee. Phil glanced around the cafe, clearly just as surprised by the lack of customers as Dan was. The sky outside was pitch black - shit, what time was it?
“It's nine-fifty,” 'Theo' murmured in response to Dan's unspoken question.
“Holy shit Phil we’ve spent two actual hours just talking what the hell I’m so sorry for bothering you? Do you have anywhere you need to be? Shit I totally kept you oh man-”
“Dan. Don’t worry, okay? I don't really have anything I have to do - I'm definitely not missing out on anything, I promise.” Dan sighed gratefully and rubbed a hand down their face - who knows what they would've done if Phil had ended up missing out on something important.
They steadied their hands on the empty table - Phil and they must've both put their stuff away at some point - and pushed themself away from their chair, bouncing on the balls of their feet once they stood up. Phil stood up as well, super-cool bookbag in hand, and they walked out together after a sheepish “have a good night!”
They stood on the corner of 86th and 3rd, and Dan couldn't help but notice the way the light shined across Phil's face. Traffic was at a standstill and the neon red from the traffic light cast a glow on the man's face, as if Dan was looking at him through rose-tinted glasses.
It felt absurdly romantic, considering they'd only known each other for a couple of hours.
“Which way are you going?” Phil asked, gesturing vaguely.
“I'm headed towards the Q -” they pointed east, “- ever since they finished the line, I've basically been using it every chance I get.”
Phil grinned in response. “I feel you. I wish it connected with the 6, but we'll probably have to wait another century for that. I'm heading to Lex.” Dan pouted a little - maybe it had been a bit far-fetched, but somewhere in the back of their mind they'd been hoping that Phil would be able to take the train with them.
“Alright, well - guess I'll. See you around?” Phil's face flashed with something that looked vaguely like disappointment, but he nodded slowly.
“Yeah, definitely. It was great to meet you!” Phil stuck out a hand, and Dan used it to pull him into a hug, shoving their face into his chest. Phil flailed for a few (long) seconds before wrapping lanky arms around Dan's shoulders.
“It was fun talking to you,” Dan mumbled into his cardigan, smiling gently into the comfortable fabric.
“You too.”
Dan eventually pulled themself away, hopping subtly onto their tiptoes to brush imaginary dust off of Phil's shoulders.
“See you around,” they said, flashing a short wave. They pivoted on their heel, crossing the avenue (and thanking the god of social awkwardness that it was their light to walk) with hands in their pockets, wrapping fingers around the tangled headphones they'd shoved in earlier. They pulled out their headphones and untangled them, putting one into their ear when-
“Wait, Dan!”
They jumped, letting out a small squeal that echoed in their brain. Dan turned around slowly to face Phil, who stood five feet away from them with a hand outstretched as if he thought Dan would run away when their name was called.
Not too far-fetched, really; they definitely would've bolted if they hadn't recognized the voice calling out to them.
“Um. Hi?” Dan managed to blurt out before breaking into giggles. Phil soon followed, clapping a hand over his mouth to hide the hint of tongue slipping out between grinning teeth (holy fuck that's adorable).
Phil's laughter faded out, replaced with a bashful smile and a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I, uh. Well- I realized you never finished telling me about your hair?” Dan raised an incredulous eyebrow, holding giddy laughter behind a bitten-down smile.
“Oh, really? I didn't know my story was that captivating.”
Phil scoffed lightly. “Everything about you is captivating, but that's besides the point.” His eyebrows lifted in surprise. He looked about as startled as Dan felt, and Dan felt their cheeks flush with surprised delight.
“Anyway. Maybe you could give me your number, and finish telling me some time?”
Holy shit.
What?
Dan didn't realize they'd said that last part out loud (probably with a wildly surprised look on their face) until Phil's face dropped, jaw snapping closed with a click.
“Oh. I mean? No worries? It's tot-”
“No! No, no, no, no!” Dan cut him off with a string of frantic words, shoving one of their hands through their already mussed-up hair and waving the other one wildly in the air. “Shit! Oh my god, no no no no no, I'm so sorry, oh my god, Jesus fucking-”
They cut themself off with a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose with their fingertips.
“Sorry, I just- didn't expect that. Yes, yes of course, yes.” Dan smiled, more of a quirk of their lips than anything else, and Phil perked up with a hopeful smile.
“Awesome!” Phil pulled his phone out from his pocket and Dan entered their number in, saving themself under “danny boy ;) ;) ;)” and texting an “eyyyyy waddup boi” to their number with a satisfied nod.
“There we go,” they chirped, handing the phone back to Phil. The tall man stole a glance at his phone before shoving it back into his pocket, laughing at the contact name.
“Okay, so now this is goodbye, right?”
Phil nodded and smiled again, pulling them into another short hug. They went willingly and squeezed as hard as they could, bursting with a tiny giggle when Phil over-dramatically complained about not being able to breathe, jeez Dan, you're way too strong for this!
“Okay,” Dan said finally, dragging themself away from Phil's lanky frame. They trailed soft hands down the sleeves of Phil's sweater, stopping right above his hands to look up at him with a hopeful smile.
“See you around?” The pink flush on Phil's cheeks contrasted with the green glow from the street lights. He gave a tiny nod and, after a moment of hesitation, leaned down to press full lips briefly against Dan’s cheek.
It felt like clammy hands - whispered compliments - old rock music played as high as they could get it - a breeze blowing through their hair - legs intertwined - plants crowding the hallway of an apartment they didn't have yet -
Phil smelled like brownies once he got close enough, and Dan couldn't help but wonder what he would taste like if he got even closer.
Phil smiled softly (yet again, holy shit this guy is full of smiles and Dan feels blessed every time he sees one) at the small gasp Dan let out, flashing another tiny wave at the frozen person in front of him. He turned around quickly, almost tripping over a crack in the sidewalk, and rushed back across the street with shoulders that hunched to protect him against the wind. Dan watched him leave, letting the faint sounds of a Hozier song echo in their brain.
Dan pressed soft fingers to a frozen cheek (wow, how much more cliché can they get, really), feeling it puff up as their face stretched into a giddy smile.
This felt like the start to something good.
“and my baby's sweet as can be
she he give me toothaches just from kissin’ me”
- work song, hozier