Chapter Text
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Phil is up first in the morning.
He knows Dan didn’t sleep much in the days before they came to Manchester, didn’t sleep much the night before in a new place with new sounds and new angles. He’s not surprised Dan’s body does what it seems to always do and hit a crashing point.
So he leaves Dan sleeping for a little while more and he slips quietly into pajamas. He knows the halls his feet walk down. He knows which step to avoid so it doesn’t squeak and wake someone up. He spent a lifetime mastering this path for midnight snacks and late nights back in.
The tin of Nescafé is still out from the cup he’d had the night before. He starts water boiling in the kettle and has a room temperature bacon and cheese scone while he waits. It would be better heated up with butter, but he’s not fussed about it.
He takes his coffee and his half-scone out to the back garden and sits at the table that probably hasn’t seen a meal eaten out on it since… well, since his dad was still alive, in those weeks before the last weeks when he still had the strength to come sit out here.
He always loved it. He loved the view over the hills. He loved to sketch and paint scenes that were a combination of his imagination and what was in front of his eyes.
Phil takes a long drink of coffee. It’s hot going down, and well-sweetened, just the way he likes it. He takes another and then keeps his hands wrapped around the mug. There’s more of a chill to the air than he expected. He should have at least put shoes back on. His mum will fuss at him.
And he’ll let her. He needs to soak in all the mum time they can get. The visit is already close to over. He could only take so much time away from work, and the same for Dan. Tomorrow night they’ll get on a train that’ll take them back to their little flat.
Gerald will probably be cross that Phil hasn’t been there to put food out for him for a few days now. Phil feels a tug of guilt that he’d never admit to Dan, for fear of the incessant mocking he’d get in return.
He’s eager to see Gerald. He’s eager to be in his own bed. But he wants to be here, too. It’s such a strange pull and one he never really had reason to feel before. He had flats before, places he lived and paid for, but there was never a rival for home in his heart. Home was always this - the house that held his mum and his dad and all his memories.
Kath knows what Dan and Phil have planned for the day. She'd only just nodded quietly when Phil had told her the night before, said she's been a few times since she's been back.
She hadn't asked to come along, and Phil hadn't invited her. He will next time.
But this time he just wants Dan there.
-
Dan is still sleeping when Phil finally makes his way back to the bedroom, so Phil just climbs right back in bed. As soon as he’s laid down, Dan wriggles in close, pressing his face into Phil’s chest.
“Are you awake?” Phil whispers.
“Mmf.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I can go.”
Dan’s arm darts out to wrap around Phil’s side. “Don’t even think about it,” he says in his grumbly morning voice. His eyes are still closed, and after a minute of neither of them speaking, his breathing returns to a slow rhythm of sleep.
Phil indulges himself in enjoying the closeness. He already feels a sort of melancholy settling itself into his bones, but Dan helps. Being with Dan always helps. He walks his fingers up Dan’s arm, across his shoulder, over his cheek. He closes his eyes and plays with Dan’s hair, not feeling too bothered that he’ll probably wake Dan up again.
Dan slides a leg between Phil’s thighs. Phil can feel the warmth of Dan’s breath all the way through his shirt.
“What are you thinking about?” Dan asks quietly.
“Nothing,” Phil replies, and it’s the truth. “I’m doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The therapy thing you told me about. Where you just pay attention to yourself in the moment.”
“Mindfulness.”
“Mm,” Phil hums in confirmation.
“What are you paying attention to?”
Phil rubs gently at Dan’s scalp. “The feel of your hair. How warm you are.”
“Phil, that’s me. You’re supposed to pay attention to you.”
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “My fingers are enjoying the feel of your hair, though. And my body is enjoying the warmth of you because I was sat outside for a long time and got really cold.”
“You went outside?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you alright?”
Phil takes another breath. He leans his head down so he can kiss Dan’s hair. He leaves his nose buried in the waves. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. That’s okay.”
“I don’t think I’m good at mindfulness.”
“It takes a lot of practice,” Dan says. “Especially for overthinkers like us.”
“I suppose that’s why we need it so badly, eh?”
Dan nods. Phil can’t see it because his eyes are still closed, but he can feel the movement of it.
“I’m scared,” Phil whispers.
Dan tilts his face up and presses their foreheads together. Phil still doesn’t open his eyes.
“I’m scared of how much it’s going to hurt.”
“I know,” Dan says softly. “It’s going to be hard.”
“But you’ll be there.”
“I will.” He nudges his nose against Phil’s. “Hey.”
“What?” Phil whispers, the word barely audible.
“Look at me.”
Phil opens his eyes. All there is is Dan. He holds Phil’s gaze in his big brown eyes, not saying a word, and it’s exactly right.
-
It’s quite a long walk to the cemetery, but Phil doesn’t consider asking his mum for the car. He doesn’t consider taking the bus or an uber. He wants to feel the distance. He’s not sure why.
The sky is a solid wall of light grey clouds as he and Dan walk down the hill. Phil’s hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans and Dan’s in the pockets of his jacket.
Walking this hill is so familiar, though everything around him looks somehow smaller than it did even six months ago. His world is bigger now. He can see far beyond the trees and hills of the town that raised him.
He has a million stories in his mind he could be saying, but somehow speaking feels like a lot of effort. He doesn’t know why but Dan seems to understand or at least respect it and he doesn’t ask Phil the kinds of questions he’s peppered throughout the rest of their visit.
The first word either of them comes as Phil turns at a break in the stone wall they’ve been following alongside. There’s a heavy iron gate and they both pause to look at the sign above it.
He doesn’t really need to, but Phil says, “Here.” anyway.
“Not too late to back out,” Dan says quietly. “We can always wait another day.”
Phil shakes his head. He appreciates the out, but he doesn’t want it. “Come on.”
-
It takes him twenty minutes of wandering around to remember where his dad is actually buried. It would make him laugh if it didn’t also make him want to cry. He thought he’d just - know. But he’s only been here once - the day of the funeral - and he hadn’t asked his mum for directions once they were inside.
Dan doesn’t say anything about that, either. It’s as if he knows the normal pleasant teasing and piss-taking between them wouldn’t hit Phil in the proper way right now. He feels like someone’s taken all of his nerve endings and put them on the outside of his skin.
“Oh,” Phil says, spotting a tree he recognizes. “We’re close.”
Dan reaches out and slides his hand into Phil’s. “He’s in a good spot. It’s fucking gorgeous here.”
Phil looks up and it is, actually. They’re on a bit of a hill and it’s easy to see the brilliant green of the grass on the rolling hills just beyond the stone wall enclosing the cemetery. Everything looks lush somehow even with the seasons changing.
His dad would love that view. He’d probably want to paint it.
Maybe Phil will try. Maybe he’ll take a picture before they leave. If he can’t, then Stevie might for him, at least. Nothing of the cemetery - just the view, so he can look at it sometimes and imagine sharing the moment with Nigel.
He clears his throat against the tears that want to gather there and pulls Dan a few feet closer to the tree. His eyes skim over the names on the headstones until they land on the most freshly engraved one in this area.
“Dad,” he says. “This is Dan.”
He feels a bit daft saying it, but then Dan reaches out and puts a hand on the cool stone. “It’s nice to finally meet you, sir.”
Phil takes a shuddering breath, tearing his hand from Dan’s so he can cover his mouth with it.
“It’s okay,” Dan says, looking intensely at Phil.
“Sorry, I just—”
Dan’s arms come around him then, and Phil turns into the embrace blindly, clinging. Dan presses kisses to the side of Phil’s head and rubs brisk paths up and down his back with warm steady hands.
They stand like that for a long while, Phil breathing in the scent of Dan until he regains control of himself and puts a little distance between them. His hands fall from around Dan’s neck to grasp loosely at his upper arms. “If you could have properly met him, he’d have probably greeted you with a handshake that felt like he wanted to make your knuckles crack. He’d have made some sort of joke about you being tall. He always joked about me being taller than he was. He and Martyn are the same height. I think he’d probably say something about how I went and found a bloke taller than me because I was tired of being the tallest one around. Or… I don’t know. Something silly like that. He’d have been awkward. My dad loved me so much but I don’t know that he ever felt like he knew what to do with me being gay. He used to treat Ben like all my other mates until he realized we were both gay, and then he walked in on us kissing one - and it changed. Suddenly he would pat him on the back all awkward and try to call him son. He was trying, but it never really worked. I think - I think it would have worked, with you. I’d have brought you around often enough that he’d have just gotten used to it, and treated you the same way he treats Corn. I wouldn’t have really given him any choice. And you… you’d have liked him, I think.”
“I would,” Dan interrupts, voice low. He sounds affected by what Phil’s saying but Phil can’t meet his eyes just yet. “I’m sure I would.”
“He’d have cooked proper vegan food for you. He used to for Cornelia, she eats fish but besides that she’s mostly veg. It would have even tasted good.”
“Hey.” Dan laughs a choked little laugh. “Your mum tried.”
“She did try,” Phil says. He laughs too for just a moment before it gets lost in another wave of grief. “She has to try hard enough for both of them now, I guess.”
“She’s okay, Phil.” He takes Phil’s hand and brings it up to his mouth, kisses Phil’s fingers and says, “She’s going to be okay, and so are you.”
Phil nods. He knows it’s true. This visit has proven it to him. She’s still who she always was. She’s sad but she’s not broken. And neither is he. Not all the time, anyway. And he knows how to pick up the pieces now.
“He’s down there,” Phil says quietly, looking at the grass that grows over his father’s final resting place.
Dan strokes over Phil’s knuckles with his thumb. “He is.”
“I should’ve brought flowers.”
“Did he like flowers?”
“Uh.” He thinks about it. “No more than anyone else, I guess.”
“I think you already brought him the thing he would’ve wanted most.”
Phil asks, “What?” though he already knows what Dan’s going to say.
Dan squeezes his hand and gives him a soft smile. “You, idiot.”
Phil closes his eyes and lets the sadness wash him over. His fingers laced between Dan’s keep him grounded, and if Dan has noticed how much sweat is building up between their palms, he hasn't said anything. Phil doesn’t think he will.
He gets lost for a while, so much so that he’s startled when Dan starts to speak again.
“It’s been a while since you’ve seen your son, so I thought maybe you’d like me to fill you in.”
Phil turns to look at him, but Dan is looking at Nigel’s headstone.
“I haven’t known him that long in the grand scheme of things, but he’s already my favourite person in the world.”
Part of Phil wants to tell Dan to stop, that he doesn’t have to do that. That his heart can only take so much.
But a much larger part wants this. Very badly, actually. He squeezes Dan’s hand too tight and listens.
“I’ve never met anyone like him,” Dan continues. “He’s kind and funny. Endlessly patient when you need him to be, and somehow also stubborn as absolute fuck.”
Phil laughs wetly. “Shut up,” he murmurs.
Dan grins, dimple denting his cheek, and keeps on. “He makes me happy, and he makes me brave. He’s a good listener and he cares about people. He’s a slob and he’s generous and he eats like shit and doesn’t apologize for who he is. I think he might be an alien, but I’m in love with him and I’m going to keep him.”
Phil’s smile drops, his throat going tight. “Dan…”
Dan shakes his head just slightly, eyes still locked on the stone. “You raised a good man, sir. A bloody amazing man who misses you every day. But he’s going to be okay. I’ve got him now.”
Phil tugs on Dan’s arm, harder than he means to. Dan makes a startled little noise as Phil pulls him into a bruising hug.
“I’ve got you,” Dan whispers.
Phil nods.
“I’ve got you.”
-
Phil only speaks four more words out loud - I love you, Dad - before he pushes his face into Dan’s neck and says, “I want to leave now.”
“Back to the house?” Dan asks.
“Not yet.” He thinks for a moment. “Let’s just… walk.”
“Yeah,” Dan says. “Let’s do that.”
-
They make it inside the glass doors of the coffee shop just as the clouds above them unleash.
“I’ll order for us,” Phli says. “Find a table?”
He’s only behind a couple of people in line. It gives him time to catch his breath from the speedwalk in.
The shop is nice. There actually aren’t any childhood memories here, which is a profound relief. The place was only put in a few years ago, taking over an old Indian restaurant he used to get kebabs from. It’s been completely redone since then, though, the guts of it ripped out and replaced with modern fixtures and different flooring and bold deep blue paint on the walls. It smells of coffee and he breathes in deep, letting the scent envelope him.
He recites both of their orders when he gets to the counter. The guy who takes his card and calls the order out has a little rainbow enamel pin on his collar. Phil drops a tenner in the tip jar when he isn’t looking.
Dan’s found them a nice table near a window, far away from everyone else. Phil sits down beside him, then leans his head on Dan’s shoulder. Dan’s arm comes up to squeeze around him briefly before dropping away.
“Oh,” Phil says, remembering himself - remembering Dan. He picks his head up. “Sorry.”
A frown flickers over Dan’s face. “Hey,” he says. “No.”
Then he pulls Phil in and kisses him on the mouth. It’s nothing more than a quick peck, but Dan is smiling when he pulls away.
Phil smiles back at him. “You’re the best.”
“You are, actually. You were amazing today.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Phil argues weakly. He suddenly feels a bone deep, all encompassing sort of exhaustion and all he really wants to do is melt into the warmth of Dan’s arms and forget the world for a little while.
“Phil, I love you.”
Phil blinks. “I love you too.”
“But you’re being an idiot.”
“Oh.”
Dan fixes him with a look of determination, then takes his face in his hands and kisses him. Properly. A kiss that lingers, that tastes like tea and comfort and conviction.
“I meant what I said earlier,” Dan says, not letting go of Phil’s face. “You make me want to be brave. Especially on days like today. You inspire me.”
“Is it bravery, though?” Phil questions. “To keep on going? Because that’s all I did. I just… kept going. Life didn’t actually stop even though it felt like it did for a while.”
Dan glances down at the tattoo on his wrist. “Yeah, I’d say it’s still brave. To keep going even when it feels like you’ve lost something that’s too big to get over.”
Phil pulls Dan’s hand into his lap and traces the circles of ink gently, over and over. “Yeah,” he says quietly, eventually. “You’re right.”
Dan doesn’t say anything right away, just lifts his hand and uses it to guide Phil’s head back onto his shoulder. They sit there, listening to the sounds of steam wands and coffee grinders and the chatter of customers coming in and out of the shop. They watch the rain outside the window, people clutching their umbrellas, cars splashing as they drive by.
“Thank you,” Phil murmurs. “For coming with me.”
“Always.”
Phil drinks his coffee. Dan drinks his tea.
The rain has stopped by the time they slip out of the café. Phil could get a car to take them home, but he doesn’t. The air is cool and damp, and Dan takes his hand the moment they’re outside. The hills that frame the edges of town are so green they glow.
They talk as they walk back. About their plans for today and their plans for tomorrow. Phil tells Dan he wants to buy a new sofa, one they pick out together. Dan tells Phil he wants to combine their bedrooms. He wants his space and Phil’s space to be one and the same. Phil says Dan can do all the decorating as long as the penis flowers hang above their bed.
A year ago, Phil lost something big. He thought it was too big to get over. But it wasn’t. He kept going. All he could do back then was keep going.
He can do more now, and he will. He’s going to build a life full of joy and bravery and patience and growth, a life that would have made his dad proud.
His and Dan’s hands are slick with sweat where they’re touching. When they reach the top of the hill, Dan lets go, but only long enough to wipe his palm against his jeans. Then he laces their fingers together again and smiles.
“Let’s cook something for your mum tonight, yeah?” he asks. His cheeks are rosy and his hair is a mess of frizzy waves stuck to his forehead.
Phil smiles. He’s going to build a life of happiness, and he’s not going to do it alone.