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Phil wakes up alone and cold and a little heavier. Dan left, and he hasn’t come back.
Not that he expected him to. He was so determined when he left, not hearing Phil out whatsoever, his face scrunched up in seriousness, his lips pressed together. Phil knows that face on him, because he knows every face on him. Dan won’t be spoken to when he looks like this, won’t listen, won’t allow any perspective but his own.
It fades, the way most things do. Give it a week, and Dan will regret, and he will wallow, and he will be too proud and too scared to admit it, too determined to self-destruct, too convinced that he deserves to.
Phil sighs, shakes off the morning and the chilly night, and sits up on his bed with a little yawn. He puts on his glasses, reaches for his phone, and does what every sensible person would do, after being abandoned by their partner of thirteen years because it’s “the best for him”.
He opens Grindr.
He opens Grindr and scrolls past a dozen profiles of adorable twinks living nearby (London is just built like that, apparently. Who knew?), until he finds what he’s looking for.
Some buff guy named Hank who put in a selfie in a fitness studio, posing in front of a mirror to show off sweaty biceps. His bio says “I don’t do that pronoun shit, I do protein”, and Phil knows he’s perfect.
Dan can do this. It’s been weeks and he’s asked PJ three times and PJ has patiently yet firmly assured him that yes, Phil is okay with this, he wants you to come, so Dan has to do this, really.
It feels too good to be true, and maybe he is spiraling a little, but he can do this. He can go to Phil’s birthday party, sit in a restaurant with him and their common friends, his brother who he once considered his own brother, have drinks, have food, force himself to have a few laughs. He’ll be well-behaved. He’ll be okay, because the last thing he wants is Phil’s pity. He’ll appear put-together and like he made the right decision.
Dan knows he did not make the right decision.
But what else is there to it, really? If Phil can’t be happy and out with him, who is Dan to force him to stay with him, in hiding, miserable for the rest of his life, just because Dan misses him so much it’s killing him a little?
So, he’ll go there, and he’ll prove to Phil that they can be friends, and it’s not going to be perfect, but Phil will be happy. Phil will get the best of both worlds, find a boyfriend he can be comfortable and safe with, be friends with Dan and Dan…
Dan will just be a little more haunted. What difference does it make, when he’s already miserable to begin with?
Except, that’s not quite how it goes.
Because it’s been weeks. Barely longer than a month, to be precise.
And Phil brings a fucking date.
Dan had plans, and they’re all ruined now. Because the guy is huge, has arms thicker than Phil himself is, and looks around the group with beady, smug eyes, entirely too self-satisfied, like he knows he’s won something that Dan wants to have badly enough to tear his own heart out.
He doesn’t know how not to fume at the sight. Just the guy’s face is ticking him off. And how he keeps flexing his arms, intentionally propping them up on the table, eyes always flickering back to Phil as if he’s checking that he’s noticed. Hello? Everyone in a ten mile radius has noticed those fucking beef sausages.
Phil smiles at Dan tentatively from across the table. He looks normal, cheerful, unbothered. He jokes around with Martyn, he lets them put a birthday hat on his head, he debates loudly which dessert he wants later and whether or not it would be feasible to skip the main dishes to give all of them a try.
That’s when Hank – because apparently that’s the buff guy’s name? What the fuck? – gives him a frown and a side glance.
“You’re not doing that,” he simply says and Dan feels rage bubble up in his chest like lava.
Who the fuck does he think he is, telling Phil what to do? It’s an all-you-can-eat buffet, he can pick whatever the fuck he likes!
Phil, instead of getting mad and standing up for himself, simply sulks at him.
“But they all look great!”
“Meals are important, you need nutrients. Get some chicken and rice, you’re so thin, you need more protein.”
Oh my God. Dan knows if he attempts to punch the guy, he might end up getting murdered, but maybe that’s worth it, actually. Protein? What, does he want to get Phil into his fitness agenda? Does he not know how it went the last time Phil tried to go to a fitness studio, how he ended up eating his own puke?
Dan opens his mouth, something sharp and bitter and rude on the tip of his tongue, but before he can speak, he feels someone kick him under the table. He flinches, then catches PJ’s gaze.
What? Dan mouths, waving his arms in annoyance.
Stop it, PJ mouths back.
“But–” Dan says in a normal tone, forgetting all about being subtle in his indignation, and promptly catches himself another kick, this time by Sophie.
No, she mouths at him.
Dan lets himself fall back into his chair, sulking, arms crossed in front of his chest.
Phil and… Hank go to get more drinks for the round, and immediately, PJ, Sophie, Martyn and Cornelia gang up on Dan like he’s Donald Trump or something.
“Can you please be chill for one evening,” says Martyn.
“I am chill.”
“You are not chill. You’re acting jealous. Do we have to remind you that you left him?”
PJ had been there from the start – he’s always known. Martyn, not so much, but then again, Dan doesn’t exactly have illusions about the nature of their relationship – past relationship – being a secret to any person on this table here.
Except Hank.
“He tells him what to eat,” Dan argues. “This isn’t about me being jealous, it’s just–”
“Please, you told him what to do like ten times a day.”
“Not– that’s not the same,” Dan hisses.
Before anyone else can say something, Phil and Hank return with their drinks. Phil is beaming as he sets them down in front of them, and before he can sit, Hanks arms are wrapped around him, pulling him into a rather disgusting display of PDA, snogging heavily right in front of their salads – quite literally, too.
“Some people are trying to eat here,” Dan says loudly, causing Martyn to immediately bury his face inside of his hands.
Whatever.
He doesn’t think he’s wrong here – no one wants to see this during dinner, right?
Hank glares at him – it makes his eyes look even smaller, really just two dots in a mountain of muscle mass. Dan glares back at him with his eyes wide open, head cocked and a mocking grin on his lips.
What’s he gonna do? Punch him? That can’t hurt more than dating Phil.
Phil, who’s now putting a hand to Hank’s chest, gently guiding him back to his chair to sit, cheeks flushed and an easy smile on his lips.
“Don’t mind him,” he says quietly. “Let’s just eat.”
What the fuck.
“Right,” Dan says, his voice getting louder now, biting. ”Don’t mind me. I’m not important.”
He’s just the jealous ex. He’s just the guy who spent thirteen years of his life with Phil. Doesn’t he get to be jealous? Doesn’t he get the courtesy of not having to watch these two make out?
Well, no, Dan reminds himself. Because you left.
He looks at Phil, because he can’t help himself. Phil isn’t looking back. He’s got one arm still slung around Hank’s, the other shovelling food in his mouth. Like Dan really doesn’t matter.
Dan is crushing a napkin in his fist, imagining it was Hank’s skull.
“Phil isn’t usually my type,” Hank tells them, like it’s not painfully obvious. “It just sort of happened. He has very pretty eyes.”
No shit, Dan thinks.
“We might have to work on the style though – Way too childish.”
Phil looks down at himself. He’s wearing his dark little comet shirt that Dan actually always liked.
“But hey – don’t have to see them when we’re fucking, right?” Hank laughs, winking into the group, and gets a couple forced laughs back. Dan does not laugh. He does not even blink. He catches Phil’s gaze, who shrugs and takes a sip from his drink, his eyes never leaving Dan.
What the everloving fuck is he doing with this neanderthal?
“Does he have to hear you talk when you’re fucking?” he asks sweetly. “Because if not, that explains a lot.”
Hank's response is prompt.
“What the fuck is your problem, dude? Mad he didn’t pick you?”
Dan opens his mouth, the response ready. He has picked him, after all. Hank is the rebound here and he should not get it twisted, should not think that what they have could ever be as meaningful, as important, as deep as–
“Shhh, it’s okay, babe.” Phil turns Hank’s face around and kisses him deeply.
Dan feels like he might be sick, the words dying on his tongue.
PJ does it strategically – he waits with re-filling his plate until Dan goes, and then follows him back to the buffet, amicably walking by his side, until they both stand in queue for the fried noodles.
“Dan, look–”
“Please, not another lecture.”
“I wouldn’t need to lecture you if you weren’t acting like an asshole,” PJ says quietly. “You’re the one who broke up with him. We invited you because Phil said he was fine with it, and we want to be able to keep inviting you, but that’s not going to be possible if you’re making a scene right now.”
He says it like Dan is a tolerated stranger. Someone who’s just here by the grace of PJ and Martyn. He feels like he might throw up – or alternatively throw someone out a very high window. Preferably Hank, because he knows PJ is trying to be a good friend right now but God– he does hate him a little bit, just now.
“What is Phil doing with someone like that?” he mumbled while plating some spring rolls. “The guy’s gross – you can’t tell me you don’t see it.”
“Maybe he just needed something different,” PJ shrugs. “It’s not my business. Phil seems happy and the guy hasn’t done anything to any of us, so chill out and stop acting like a jealous ex.”
“I’m not jealous!”
“Phil was doing fine, you know? Didn’t even cry. Immediately threw himself into dates. This guy is good for him, whether you like it or not.”
Dan opens his mouth and closes it again, food forgotten. Right now, it seems to cost every ounce of brainpower not focused on PJ’s words right now just to hold onto the plate in his hands.
“He was fine?” Dan asked.
PJ grimaces, like he’s said something he didn’t want to. Like Dan can’t take it. Dan can totally take it. It’s just–
“Look. I’m not trying to hurt you. But you ended it, so honestly – you should be happy for him. That’s what we all want, yeah? For him to move on and be happy?”
“Oh, I’m happy for him,” Dan gives back tonelessly. “Ecstatic.”
PJ gives him another long look, rolls his eyes and turns around to the duck.
“I’m just saying. Don’t give us a reason not to invite you to the next hang-out, please. For your sake.”
Dan doesn’t respond. He doesn’t exactly enjoy being threatened into obedience, especially not when it comes to Phil – like Dan is some outsider, looking in. Like he doesn’t know Phil better than anyone here.
But there’s nothing he can do about it. If they don’t want to invite him next time, then that’s it. He’s out.
So Dan grits his teeth and walks back to the table, PJ’s words echoing in his head.
Fine? Phil had just been fine? No crying? No–
“Honestly, I can’t believe you like shit like that,” he hears Hank say as he sits back down at the table. He’s got a large hand on Phil’s knee, and is watching him like he’s never seen something more interesting in his life. Dan wants to scratch his eyes out.
“It’s a very popular show,” Phil giggles – giggles.
“I don’t know. The two episodes you showed me were just trash. Those vampires didn’t even look like vampires, they had all wrinkly, really bad faces…”
Buffy, Dan realises, forgetting all about eating as he watches. His eyes immediately flit to Phil, taking in his reaction, but Phil just cocks his head and says, “Yeah I guess it’s not the best.”
What the fuck? What the fuck? What the–
“But you love Buffy,” Cornelia throws in tentatively. Dan has never wanted to kiss her more.
“Uh,” Phil shrugs, batting his eyelashes at Hank. “We can watch yours. What was it?”
“Law and Order,” Hank nods. “Now that’s quality TV.”
Phil grins, and very pointedly doesn’t look in Dan’s direction as he presses a kiss to Hank’s cheek. “Right, we’ll watch that, then,” he giggles again. “I love that show!”
Dan presses his eyes shut, averts his face, and lets out a single, solitary snort.
Oh, Phil.
He sits there and watches it for a while. Hank, making fun of the way Phil talks. Hank, getting mad when Phil accidentally tosses over his beer – because of course he’d drink beer. Hank, wanting to change every single thing about Phil, with the casual authority of someone who thinks he has the right to.
Because Phil lets him go on and on, smiling and giggling and kissing and touching him.
Dan catches PJ’s glance once in a while, but he doesn’t say anything anymore – he’s not allowed to. So he just grins back at PJ, shrugging as loudly as one can without talking, smiley and perfectly behaved all day.
PJ looks uncomfortable now. Martyn has been for a while. Cornelia is on her fourth glass of wine.
Dan stays quiet.
It comes with the lovely side effect of spitefully feeding PJ his own medicine. That’s what he wanted, now he can lie down in his bed.
Except, as Hank is just going on a long tirade about the way Phil’s videos could improve when Phil gets up to get himself some more desserts, and PJ kicks Dan under the table again. Hard.
Dan flinches, glares at him, and tries to signal with his eyes that he hasn’t even done anything (rather hateful thoughts excluded), but PJ just jerks his head to the side to indicate that he should follow Phil.
What? Dan mouths.
Talk to him! PJ mouths back.
Are you kidding me, first you want me to shut up, now you want me to talk to him? You do it then, Dan mouthed back, followed by PJ looking at him confused.
Urgh fine. Phil would’ve gotten it.
Dan stands up, grabs his plate, mumbles something about fruit and follows Phil to the buffet.
“Hi there,” he greets him as he walks up behind Phil, and Phil doesn’t seem surprised to see him, barely even turns his head.
“Oh, hey. Have you tried the strawberry shortcakes? Do you think they’re any good? They look really good.”
Dan looks at him fondly, allowing himself to, because Phil has his back to him, his whole focus seemingly on the cake selection.
“What are you asking me for, you’re gonna try them anyway.”
“You’re right.”
He puts one piece onto his plate, squints, then takes another.
Yup, that’s his Phil.
“So, PJ had a little chat with me, earlier,” Dan says conversationally.
Phil gives him a quick side glance, then walks up to the baked bananas.
“Oh, yeah?” he asks and something in his voice is a little too casual.
“Yeah. And as much as I appreciate your attempts to escalate me – valiant effort, I have to say – unfortunately I’m not allowed to, unless I don’t want to get invited again.”
Phil turns around, plate firmly in his hands. Two men squeeze past him to get to the yoghurt, eyes rolling, but Phil doesn’t even notice.
“He said that?” he asks, stunned.
Dan shrugs.
“He sure did.”
Phil seems to need to process that for a moment, then says, “Wow. And you’re just letting him talk to you like that?”
Which– okay.
Dan raises both eyebrows.
“I mean – what? You’re just going to let him decide what’s best for me? Like he knows better?”
Oh, he sure knows how to prod the wounds, doesn’t he? Dan is gritting his teeth now.
“Stop it, Lester. I know what you’re doing. I was told to behave, so–”
“Never stopped you before. You know, when I was crying in PJ’s arms, he said horrible things about you. He said I should just – forget about you and date that dreamboat of a hunk I’m dating now, can you believe?”
“That’s funny,” Dan retorts quietly. “Because he told me you were completely fine after our breakup. Not a single tear shed.”
For the first time tonight, Phil looks taken aback, his impossibly pale face somehow growing even whiter, his eyes torn open, that carefully curated mask finally crumbling until he’s just the Phil Dan knows best.
“No, Dan, that’s not– Why would he say that.”
“It’s fine,” Dan says.
“No!” Phil responds firmly. “It’s not. I don’t want you to think that– that’s not what– Look–”
“Phil. I know.”
“But– I–”
“Phil. I know.”
And the thing is, Dan does. Dan knew from the moment PJ told him about how fine Phil had been. He’s insecure, but he’s not going to retroactively retcon thirteen years of soulmatery. The only way Phil could’ve been fine after what Dan’s done to him, is if he really did believe that things would be fine.
Phil is fine because this is his plan. It’s silly and it’s very him.
Step 1: Bring that asshole hunk to dinner
Step 2: Watch Dan spin out
Step 3: Repeat until Dan drags you home like a caveman
It’s simple. It’s effective. It would’ve worked, if PJ hadn’t driven a wedge into his cogs and made Dan realise what was happening.
It might still work, because Phil is looking upset now. Lips pinched together, shoulders hunched, gaze locked onto his food instead of Dan.
“I just don’t get why he’d say that,” he mutters again, clearly angry.
Dan sighs.
“To get me to stop myself from getting punched in the face by bigfoot over there, I assume.”
Dan thinks they might be fine. For the first time in a month, he thinks that they might be fine, and the feeling spreads in his chest first, thaws places he hadn’t even realised were frozen, and something loosens, something that had been so tight and painful, digging into his heart, that he feels like he can breathe freely again for the first time in so long.
They might just be fine. Because Phil staged this whole thing to give Dan an easy way back in.
Because Phil looks upset, not at Dan, but for Dan, and he looks lost, here in the aisle between dessert and salad, and he’s shaking, and Dan does the first thing he can think of, cannot stand to see that man upset. He wraps an arm around him, pulls him in and pecks a kiss to his cheek, until Phil melts into his side, head momentarily resting on top of Dan’s.
“I’m okay,” he promises Phil. “I know what you’re doing. It’s working. Go eat your evil non-protein cakes and get editing tips from Hank, he clearly knows what he’s talking about.”
Phil snorts, but reluctantly parts from Dan and walks back to their table first. Dan sighs, actually goes to put some fruit on his damn plate, and follows him.
PJ looks at Dan curiously, but he just shrugs.
Phil is sitting next to Hank, so close that their thighs are touching, and attempts to feed him pieces of cake, and Hank gets louder and louder pushing him away, insisting that he’s messing up his carefully curated diet.
At some point, he pushes Phil so hard, he almost falls sideways off his chair.
Sophie flinches. Dan watches Martyn’s hand tighten around his fork. PJ looks like a deer in the headlights, and even Phil is stunned for a moment. And Dan sighs.
Alright then.
“Okay, that’s it.” He gets up swiftly, stepping towards Phil and basically pulling him out of his chair and back to his two legs. “How about now PJ, am I allowed to say something now?”
“Get the fuck away from my man!” Hank is yelling, also jumping off his chair now.
Oh God, Dan is so getting punched.
“You don’t have a man, this is my man, and you’re not touching him again. Fuck all the way off.”
Hank actually does start moving towards Dan, everyone in the restaurant now blatantly staring as Dan is likely to get murdered by a very large buff dude, but suddenly, PJ, Sophie, Martyn and Cornelia are all standing between Dan and Phil and the neanderthal, pushing him back.
“We got this, you and Phil leave,” Martyn says coldly.
Fair enough, Dan’s not exactly going to need to tell them twice. He puts both hands on Phil’s shoulder and shoves him outside of the restaurant as fast as he can. He catches Phil craning his neck back to stare at him, stunned and a little overwhelmed, and simply gives him a short wink, hoping to be reassuring. There’s adrenaline coursing through his veins like fire, keeping him from shaking, but Dan thinks it’s imminent the moment they’re through that door.
Instead, the moment it falls shut behind them, Phil turns around in his grip, arms slinging around Dan’s neck, and he’s kissing him.
It’s like the first ray of spring sun after a really, really bad winter. Dan forgets about everything for a moment, and just pulls him closer, sucks him in, until nothing in the world matters but Phil. Eager, desperate Phil, kissing him like a drowning man, his hands not even letting go as Dan pulls back.
He rests his forehead against Phil’s, just for a moment, and sighs.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
“Please never date a guy like that again.”
“Don’t make me,” Phil quips back, smirking now.
Dan kisses him, because he can, because he waited for too long, because he spent several weeks thinking he might never again, and he could cry, he could laugh, he could throw Phil over his shoulder and carry him home single-handedly.
Instead, they walk side by side.
“They’re gonna pay for us, right?”
“I’m not sure. The restaurant might pay for them to leave.”
Phil giggles.
“I didn’t think he’d be that bad, honestly. Might have overdone it a little.”
“He was full on ready to beat me into a pulp.”
“Yeah,” Phil grinned, not looking the least bit sorry about it.
They keep walking. It’s quite a walk – under different circumstances, they’d be in a tube or call an Uber, but Dan quite likes it. The cool night air, the quiet, no people disturbing them, just him and Phil, shoulder by shoulder, the stars above, and he’s not even home yet, but it feels like he is.
“Hey, are we okay?” he asks. “Genuinely?”
Phil snorts out a laugh.
“Yeah, we’re okay, Dan. We’re always okay. Just don’t– don’t leave me again, yeah? We can figure everything out, always, but you kind of have to be there for that.”
Yeah, that’s fair enough. And honestly, it’s not like Dan can imagine being stupid enough to do this to himself twice. Especially not now, when his second chance still feels so goddamn magical, so unbelievable to him.
Not to Phil, obviously, who hadn’t even wasted a single tear on thinking they’d be anything but okay.
“I won’t,” he promises. It’s useless, because Phil knows.
Phil has known all along.
But he still smiles at Dan, indulgently, like he’s glad Dan finally got it too.
When they finally get home, they’re both exhausted, and quiet, and clingy, and it’s fine. Phil has Hank’s stuff he needs to throw out. Dan has stuff he needs to move back in. They’ll both worry about that some other time. Right now, all that matters is Phil, in his arms, half-asleep.
Dan nudges him softly.
“Hey, you wanna watch some Law and Order?"