Work Text:
On a rare, sunny day, Dan wakes up first. He lies in bed and scrolls through his Instagram feed until Phil yawns, rubbing his eyes from sleep. Dan gently pecks him on the cheek; I’ll get the kettle going, you pick the show?
Phil chooses an old episode of The OA. Dan walks into the lounge, two mugs of coffee in hand. He gives one to Phil, goes back to the kitchen to grab their cereal. Once he returns, they sit on the sofa, ankles intertwined as they chew some expensive, sugary frosted wheat.
Their relationship is the definition and the antithesis of easy.
In the beginning, when they talked on Skype, it felt like they knew each other in a past life. The conversation would flow on for hours and hours, spilling into the depths of early morning when no topic was off-limits.
Working up the courage to kiss Phil first wasn’t. The loud thumping of his heart in his ears drowned out every other sound. But the way Phil melted into him, placing a gentle hand on his hip, was.
Moving in with each other seemed like a no-brainer. Phil needed someone to split the rent with. Dan wanted a place bigger than his cramped uni dorm. It was perfect.
The tense air between them when the video leaked for the first time tasted like slightly-too-bitter coffee and nights spent alone in their rooms.
But like the way lungs needed air, they needed each other.
Phil deposits his mug into the sink, goes to water his houseplants.
Dan retreats into the office and plays Guild Wars 2.
They reunite in two hours when Dan seeks Phil out to ask if he should get a haircut soon. He’s fresh from a shower, curls dripping wet, smelling like green apple and toothpaste.
Phil’s so smitten for him, it’s laughable. He gently twirls a curl around his index finger; Maybe.
Dan scoffs, drops his towel and grabs a pair of pyjama bottoms from Phil’s dresser. Doesn’t think twice about it. Phil sits on his bed, watches him do this with a knowing smile on his face.
They shared everything. From beds to underwear and film equipment. What’s mine is yours.
Easy.
Having millions of people watching their every move will never not be weird.
It’s not like they want to start making out on camera anytime soon; it’s just that it’s become tiring to keep their hands to themselves, and everyone’s noticed.
They sat down and had a chat about it; Do you want to be a little more relaxed in videos? I kinda want to.
What exactly does ‘relaxed’ mean, anyway?
I don’t really know, either. Just be more natural. I guess. Like we are when no one’s around.
So far, it’s been going swimmingly. The viewers are happy. The theorists are going wild. There are text posts all over Tumblr analyzing their every move, every glance at each other.
Baby steps, Dan tells Phil. They’re not the type for a formal coming out. This will have to do. For now.
The closest Phil’s gotten to a formal declaration of love in a long, long time was during his Creator of the Year speech.
Thinking back on the year they had, he didn’t even hesitate to call Dan up on stage with him. It would be foolish to not to. They were attached at the hip, and not just because they were on tour for 3 months.
Dan stole a quick kiss from him in a dark, shadowy corner backstage. Phil’s smile was blinding.
Later in the evening, they film a gaming video. It’s a casual Dan versus Phil, and they are wearing silly hats in the shape of a tiny golf course.
There are too many innuendos, but they know they won’t bother editing out most of them. Not anymore. Nor will they edit out the parts when Dan’s leaning a little too close into Phil’s space. They leave those in now. They don’t remember when they started to, but that doesn’t matter anymore.
Dan calls their favorite Indian place for dinner. Phil browses through Netflix for a film.
Like breathing.
Later on, just after midnight, after they’ve tucked themselves into bed, Phil nudges Dan and hands him the iPad. It’s opened on a Zoopla page. He’s started doing this more often, showing Dan potential places they could move to.
Storage, Dan keeps teasing in his liveshows. Life things.
Dan hmms and ahhs, tells him the garden looks a little too small, doesn’t he want bigger windows? There aren’t enough windows.
Phil plucks the tablet from his hands and places it on his bedside table. You want so much.
Dan draws the covers around him tighter, rests his head on the curve of Phil’s shoulder, pecks him on the nose. I only want what we deserve, babe. He starts softly snoring after that.
Phil thinks he could love him for the rest of his life. It would be easy.