Work Text:
Phil was staring at his screen.
Fuck Dan.
Fuck Dan.
He couldn't just text him "Be on Instagram in like 5 min I have something for you" and then post this—this majesty. Dan. In a slutty nun costume. Caption? forgive me father for i have sinned.
God.
He had told Phil he had an unhinged Halloween costume, and that he wanted to keep the surprise until after the fact.
But holy shit.
Phil couldn't tell if the wave of arousal was due to seeing his boyfriend's face, his exposed body, if the nun thing was doing it for him—which would be nice to find out after thirty-five years—or if it had simply been too long without Dan.
He'd been gone for just over a month.
Phil had already dyed a shirt, a pair of shoes, two towels and a carpet green. He did not regret it yet but he knew it wouldn't have happened if Dan was there to talk him out of it, so maybe he was spiralling—which made no sense: he was the one who had already lived alone. Okay, it was nearly two decades ago, but he couldn't just… Forget how to exist by himself.
He liked the post—God it was far too early for this—and exited the app, rushing to his messages to text a few exclamations points.
!!!!!!
Dan
What the fuck
How do you even fit
You're so beautiful why aren't you here with me I don't even have words
Three little dots appeared and while Dan was answering, Phil slipped on a shirt and padded up the stairs to the kitchen.
i have the getting ready video if you want to see me putting fishnets on
(you like it?)
Dan, I'm hard okay? Yes I like it very very much, everything is perfect. That dress fits you way too well and I want to be that stop sign.
And YES I need that video.
aww, philly only needs a bit of thigh to get worked up huh? whore
I'm not the one showing ass on Instagram.
Dan only answered with a video. Phil clicked without hesitation. His cereals were just in the cabinet—which, ironically, had its doors closed—but for once, he didn't care at all. All that mattered was the boy, no, the man on his screen.
The phone was probably propped up on a desk because Dan fully appeared on the shot, from head to toes. He was wearing a very Dan outfit, black ripped jeans and his stripped sweater, the one Phil always pictured him with.
"So, I did something," Dan said, then awkwardly chuckled in his palm, "please, don't laugh."
His other hand disappeared out of shot, and retrieved a shape.
"We're going out in a gay club in Nashville tonight so a few days ago I bought a nun costume in a Spirit Halloween on the road."
His hand popped back in the frame, with a costume bag adorned with a reference picture of a woman wearing the dress. Dan pressed his lips together, then burst out laughing, loudly, freely, almost folding his body in two.
"And I have no backup plan so it'll have to do."
Dan dropped the bag on the bed Phil could see behind him and completely got out of the shot. When he came back, he had lost his trouser and was holding a piece of strings between his fingers.
"I also bought a pair a fishnets because I really don't trust the socks they sold with the dress. And I'm not even sure I can wear underwear with it? No, I can't go out commando in that kind of outfit, I'll have to wear my boxers with it," he mumbled to himself. Then, he sat down on the edge of the bed, facing his phone, and removed his socks. "Okay. I never wore that but it can't be that hard."
Famous last words, as Phil witnessed him trying to slip his legs in the tights without ripping them for two good minutes.
If he wasn't so captivated, he would have laugh for those two minutes but alas, his boyfriend was half-naked, an ocean and multiple time zones apart. That, and the fact that it had already happened and that Dan was probably removing those fishnets as Phil was watching him.
When he finally managed to put them correctly on, Phil made a mental note to buy fishnets. No reason.
The way Dan's legs seemed more elegant and sensual, only thanks to nylon crossing over them—it had to be studied. Phil volunteered.
Then, Dan, on the screen, removed his sweater and his shirt in one go, finally appearing practically naked to Phil. He turned his back to the camera and bent at the waist to unzip the bag and collect the costume—Phil did not feel guilty when his eyes shamelessly dropped to Dan's ass. He could watch, it was his. He did chuckle when a little "you perv" appeared in white text over the black boxers. Dan knew him pretty well.
Dan inspected the dress.
"I don't see any zip so I guess—it'll have to stretch," he said, over his shoulder.
Dan pulled the dress over his head, and let it fall on his body, arranging the panels over the top of his legs. Then, he turned back to the camera, showing Phil the front of the dress, with the cuts on the chest. Phil bit his lips and hid his laughter behind his hand, in perfect synch with Dan on screen like they would do if they were on Face Time.
"Wait for it," Dan announced, "I still have a few things to put on."
He placed a wimple through his curls and added a rosary, removed his usual hoop earring to replace with something else that Phil couldn't see well, and slipped long fingerless gloves along his forearms.
"To be honest, I don't know if this evokes trauma or if it awakens something. Probably both. You'll tell me."
Dan turned to his side, examining himself—there was probably a mirror somewhere behind the phone, which, in retrospect… A mirror facing a bed in a hotel?
"I don't know what to think about it," Dan concluded, "so I will just take some pictures and record a bit of content for Instagram and Tiktok. I'll film the rest when I take all that off." Dan took the phone back in his hand and used the screen to arrange his hair underneath the wimple. "I hope you liked it. I miss you, Phil."
The video cut abruptly with the most unflattering image of Dan—as usual. It was a thing between them, to always end the videos they sent one another with the most disgusting face they could pull off.
Phil rested the small of his back against the kitchen island, trying to take it all in. Dan dressed as a nun to go out in a gay club. Wow. That was the kind of things the Dan from just four years before would have freaked out about—the gay club part probably even more than the nun thing. And Phil was incredibly proud of how far his partner had progressed.
He typed and hit send.
I don't even know what to say. You're way too pretty like this.
Now, the game he was playing was "Why am I aroused?" because never in his life had religious imagery worked him up like that, so he could probably put the religion kink aside. There was, however, a big probability that his body was reacting that way to Dan, purely. Dan in feminine clothing was also a probability—he had been in awe of Dan wearing a skirt in a video they had not posted yet for Dystopia Daily.
Oh well.
Phil decided not to dwell on the implication of being a gay man attracted to his boyfriend of thirteen years dressed as a nun. The first part was enough. He was a gay man attracted to his partner of more than a decade.
But there was this other thing: he was genuinely, genuinely sad to have missed that part of the tour. America, despite being obscenely too much, was also fun. And it was the Halloween period: for years, they had done Spooky Week on the gaming channel and baked at the end of it. For some reason, the baking part had stuck off-camera during the hiatus and Phil regretted not being able to do it this year with Dan. He had had fun with Sophie and PJ in Brighton, though, so there was that.
But also—the nun thing.
Dan was hot with the costume and Phil wasn't there to appreciate him—her?—in person. Which was a shame, since it was only a Halloween costume, not something Dan would dress as again in the future. The persona didn't exist, as it was just a gag for the night. Phil would never see her.
Dan answered his text.
mm tell me more
Phil could hear his teasing tone, clear as day.
Fuck you Howell
you gonna jerk off?
Phil rolled his eyes to himself at the change in topic, glad that Dan wasn't there to witness his endeared smile.
Probably. I was omw to breakfast but I think I'm going to take a cold shower first
noooo ft me
it's 3am here i was going to sleep but i need to get off
pls
Dan could call Phil his 'stinky baby' all he wanted—he had started to do that recently—but Dan wasn't the only one to instantly fold under the other's demands.
To say Phil was glad to be hidden by their kitchen island from the waist down was truly an understatement.
They had filmed Sister Daniel's—that was the official name Internet had given her, an homage to the character Dan had created many years before with a shirt on his head—arrival at least three times but all attempt was ruined by Dan breaking character and laughing at Phil's reddened face.
He couldn't help it, was the thing, though. Sister Daniel allowed Dan to explore a whole new other side of himself and Phil was here for it. So if he was turned on by his boyfriend being able to freely express himself, then sue him. Sister Daniel was dominant, intimidating and confident and Phil was folding hard. He was folding and hard.
Plus, Dan was wearing a dark makeup.
And trying not to smudge it on Phil's red sweater as he was almost crying, forehead pressed against his shoulder, after a particularly bad try at introducing Sister Daniel.
"No, okay, one last time," he announced, carefully, wiping his cheeks to make sure no tears was ruining the art. "And if we fail again, I'll—I'll try to stitch something together."
At this point, they knew they couldn't ask anyone but them to edit; given the length of the dress, there was no chance Dan wasn't going to flash everyone in the process. And sure, Dan had spent half a decade with his butt out since apparently he was allergic to belts, but he was older now. He'd rather spend the next night reviewing the video frame by frame himself than send it to their editor.
"It was a bad idea," Phil added.
Dan carefully stepped out of the frame, "You said you thought it was a good idea right before we cut the camera."
"I'm changing my mind!"
It was a great idea for his eyes. Maybe less great to get his brain to work properly.
He was used to see Dan's ass, was the thing. And he wasn't even naked! But he was wearing his slutty dress and his pretty makeup and openly flirting with him, and, and…
"You asked me to wear this, bro. It's too late. Okay, go on."
As expected by the both of them, Phil was stumbling over his words and literally fell to his knees under twenty seconds of Sister Daniel being in front of the camera. Fortunately, Phil was wearing red, so if anyone in the comments asked, the colour of his face was the reflection of his outfit in the white, shiny furniture.
Thank God they had decided they would edit the video themselves.
Dan was touching him and teasing—it was a lot for Phil. Not the actual touching and teasing, of course, it would be a shame if he wasn't used to Dan that way after fourteen years of being in a relationship together, but the fact that it was actively being caught on video… That much was new.
He didn't know what he was expecting, the first time he saw her in the flesh. He probably thought he would undress her instantly and suck her off, but arousal aside, he was… He was charmed, truly, and a little bit endeared to see Dan having so much fun.
All in all, he wasn't doing horrible—but a fond grin tugged at his lips while Sister Daniel was helping him tie his cape around his neck. Phil was strategically looking away, somewhere between the oven and the fridge, knowing he could get lost staring at Dan's face; he was therefore taken aback when Dan dropped a quick kiss to his lips.
It was not the first time they kissed on camera—it wouldn't be the last time they edited out demonstrations of affection—but it was definitely the first time Sister Daniel kissed him.
Dan nudged in in the ribs to unfreeze him, "Let's move on. Do something weird."
"I'll do you," Phil mumbled but complied, placing his cape in front of his face, effectively hiding his blush.
"How does this change your personality in the way that Sister Daniel activates something deeper in me?" Dan seamlessly changed topic.
Phil was grateful that at least one of them was professional enough to follow a recipe, even though Phil was sure it wouldn't turn out as expected since none of them was known to be a good baker. Who else could brag that Gordon Ramsey had roasted their meringues? No one but them. And now they had to make cinnamon rolls with half his blood heading South very quickly.
Once their doughs were in the oven to rise, Dan leaned on the counter and turned the camera off. The hem of the dress rode up on the back of his thighs, exposing the soft curve of his ass to Phil's eyes.
"You're still okay?" he asked, then turned back to Phil, catching him red-handed and gave him a once-over. "Mm. Enjoying the view, aren't you?"
"You're very distracting," Phil admitted, moving in Dan's direction, caging him against the counter. He pushed their hips together.
"Am I?" Dan smirked, slightly higher—in Sister Daniel's voice. "Naughty boy, getting distracted like that."
Phil breathed hard, "I swear to God, Dan—"
Sister Daniel gasped, a hand in front of her mouth, "Don't summon His name, that's blasphemous."
Phil distinctly felt his own pants tightening, but Dan was so close to him that Phil was sure he felt it too—and was proven to be right when Dan's free hand slipped down his red sweater to his trousers. He pressed his fingers against the bulge, palming him through the fabric.
Both Phil's hands cupped Dan's face right before he crashed their lips together.
Dan took advantage of the distraction to drag his fingers underneath the waistband of Phil's pants and underwear, curling his long, cold fingers around his length. He swallowed every moan that eased out of Phil's lips into his mouth, until Phil was no more than a panting mess, his thoughts looping on DanDanDan and solely focused on the stoke of his fingers on his cock.
One of his hands left Dan's face for his curls beneath the wimple, the other lowering to his neck.
All that was left of Phil were pants, gasps and moans, and he pressed his forehead to Dan's, unable to kiss anymore.
Then, like a trust fall, he allowed himself to tip over the edge. It was quick—but Dan knew what he was doing. Fireworks exploded behind Phil's closed eyelids as he came in Dan's hand.
Dan let him catch his breath for a moment, and kissed the sweaty side of his head tenderly. He retrieved his dirty hand and stuck it under the tap, gently wrapping his other arm around Phil's waist and taking him with him as he went.
After Phil recovered, Dan left to adjust his curls under the wimple in front of a mirror, and came back with his phone in hand.
"Ready to film? We need to make the filling and then I think the dough will have doubled in size."
Phil scratched his own head, "Are you sure that you don't want me to help you with your, uh…," he trailed off, nodding at the bottom part of Dan's dress, where the outline of his dick was barely visible but definitely there, "situation?"
"Well, it's your fault, so maybe you should," Dan shrugged. "But later, yeah, bub? We can just turn the lights off until it calms down."
"Yeah, show off the LEDs."
Dan turned the camera and the microphone back on.
If they had been chaotic before, it was way worse now. Phil was stuttering, losing his words; Dan was just the wrong side of loud and unhinged—like when he was trying to draw the attention on his words and not on him directly—and he spectacularly failed at cutting the butter.
They did a quick job of the cinnamon butter, allowing themselves to relax and cool off before going back to work when the oven announced the dough was ready.
Dan and Phil fell back on the familiar rhythm of baking videos, focusing on rolling the buns and not fucking it up too much. Phil only spilled a bunch of glitters on his part and rolled it the wrong way.
While the dough was rising again, they began by filming a few snippets of them waiting, but they had nothing to do, really—so Phil got down on his knees and drew an orgasm from Dan. The blow job left them with empty brains and stars in the eyes, and they forgot to preheat the oven after getting the rolls out when it beeped.
Phil spilled glitters twice after that, but the cinnamon rolls turned out perfect in the end.
But then, while Phil was trying to film the final part of the video, asking viewers to watch their previous videos, Dan fully started to. Undress. Yeah.
They cleaned up the kitchen after Phil turned the camera off and Dan bent him over the kitchen island to fuck him.
Weirdly enough, they had moved in their house two years and a half before and yet it was the first time they had sex in the kitchen—and probably one of the last, as they concluded the furniture was modern and classy but definitively too cold and uncomfortable. They also decided not to combine shooting with Sister Daniel in the middle of the night and drinking rosé during the evening.
Phil was trying to be slick, he really was.
Dan was yapping at the camera—when was he not?—and Phil was, well, watching. Except he couldn't edit it out this time, as they were live on their channel for Dan's birthday.
For years, Phil had known he tended to watch Dan too much, with fan joking that despite being a professional YouTuber, he often forgot where the camera was, so he was trying not to look at him all the time as not to give people too much content of Love Eyes Lester.
But Dan.
Dan.
Dan was.
Dan.
Dressed as Sister Daniel, yapping about his usual birthdays Phil knew he disliked, curls dyed red for the occasion, whiskers drawn on his face.
Dan was just too pretty.
Phil couldn't look at him.
So instead, he managed to catch a glimpse of him in the camera viewfinder—which he was doing a lot in his usual videos, even the solo ones—or in the screen broadcasting their live stream, strategically placed near the chat. They were both forced to look in that direction to read the reactions of the viewers.
Live streams were usually quite stressful for Phil—not that he was new to it, with all the weekly shows he used to do with Dan, whether it was their BBC slot or the YouNows, but it was usually easier to ignore the phan related comments under a video rather than in a live chat both Dan and him were actively reading.
This one was special: it was Dan's birthday and they were raising money for a cause they both supported.
And yet.
And yet.
Phil couldn't wait to cut it off.
Maybe it had something—everything, really—to do with the fact that they were both hard under their costumes.
It was Dan's fault, fully.
It has started when Phil had walked back in their shared office, wearing Dan's dark, ripped clothes along with the spiky collar. There was something to be said about the way Dan seemed to loose his shit as soon as Phil was wearing his clothes—although Phil had never explicitly uttered a word about it to his partner in nearly fifteen years, only taking advantage of the situation every now and then.
Dan had scribbled you're hot on a piece of paper, pretending he was checking something on his screen and Phil had barely retained his eye roll. And when his gaze had accidentally flickered down… well, the fabric of Dan's shorts wasn't very thick.
Then, when Dan had come back as Sister Daniel? The situation was the same, except Dan had, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to show his thigh to the chat, effectively flashing Phil from the very corner of his eyes in the process and turning him into his usual stuttering mess, as every time the nun was included in the equation.
But having Sister Daniel in the live stream didn't just mean Phil had to admire her beauty, no, he also had to endure her relentless flirting and teasing and he couldn't pause to whine or rest his forehead on the desk to calm down.
No cut to save him.
Unfortunately, Dan didn't know Phil's next outfit change was the very cheap, very thin fabric or Father Philip's robe that Phil had decided to wear as a preview for their next project, the Terrible Influence Tour they had yet to announce and that they were supposed to start teasing at the end of the live stream.
Phil had very smoothly rolled out of frame to avoid standing with the camera pointed at his crotch and come back the same way, allowing only Dan to take his state in.
And here they were, both hard, an hour and forty-five minutes into the live stream—almost at the end, although Dan's gift was still wrapped next to Phil's chair—with cat whiskers on their faces, Dan's hair dyed red and Phil's fingers looking like a crime scene.
Phil wanted nothing more than to turn the camera off and sink to his knees, or to crawl in Dan's seat and ride him—he knew from experience that the chair could take it. It wouldn't be the first time they'd fuck in their working place, though, as they had done far worse already—having been in a relationship for almost fifteen years, there were a very few things they hadn't done together.
There was that one time they had been teasing each other for hours all day until it had been time for their regular live show but they had been so caught up in what they were doing, with Dan between Phil's legs on their couch, that they had missed their cue and were late, so they had pretended to have technical issues and started the live stream with cum stains on their pants poorly concealed by a blanket on their laps. Now, they were more professional—and aware of the camera pointed at them, which was also why they didn't film in their bedrooms anymore.
A movement in the stream screen snapped Phil back into the present time. He quickly glanced at Dan.
"—love and appreciate all of you…"
Phil checked the camera viewfinder, trying his best—and failing—to erase the stupid love struck smile he found etched in his face.
"—And now I'm just procrastinating 'cause I don't wanna do this," Dan said, lifting the trimmers they were about to use to slit their eyebrows.
On cue, Phil chuckled—here, a normal reaction. He was able to control himself. He could do this. Give his partner his gift—the Duneussy—, slit their eyebrows, thank everyone, end the live stream.
The last fifteen minutes, fortunately, went on quickly. Soon enough, they turned the camera and microphone off, triple-checking that the show was finished and that the broadcast had safely made it to their joint YouTube channel.
Finally, Phil leaned back into his chair, in synch with Dan.
Dan sighed and turned his wheeled chair in Phil's direction. Before Phil could say anything, Dan chuckled.
"What?" Phil asked. "Do I have something on my face?"
"Aside from cat whiskers and divine hotness?" Dan teased, leaning to peck Phil's lips and drew back an inch, "Nope."
Phil smiled against his partner's mouth, right hand coming up to cup his face and return the kiss—still chaste, both like a timid first kiss or the familiar certainty of a kiss shaped by decades of tenderness. A string of soft presses followed, gentle hands wandering, tongues swiping and meeting. Phil's eyes had fluttered closed, but all of this was a well-rehearsed dance.
Then, Dan's arms looped around Phil's waist, tugging him closer and Phil easily complied, leaning forward, bracing his knees on Dan's chair, framing Dan's thighs. Phil's arms automatically went to his partner's neck, as Dan's embrace loosened. He drew his hands to the front of the priest robe and pressed—to tease or assess Phil's state, he didn't know.
He simply kissed Dan again, who swallowed the following sighs. Dan slipped his hand under the robe, his fingers caressing the outline of the hard length that had been waiting for long, long minutes, drawing a sharp gasp from Phil, who pushed his forehead to Dan's shoulder.
"Dan…," he breathed, all warm inside.
"Bedroom?" Dan offered, lightly squeezing Phil's cock.
Phil whimpered, pulling away just enough to consider the dark stain on the crease between Dan's neck and his shoulder. He drew back further, "Fuck. I forgot."
"Mm?"
"Sharpie stains—remember how we used to spend hours getting it off our faces after filming every pinof?"
Dan groaned, "Fuck. And my hair will put red everywhere."
He brought his hand that wasn't under the priest outfit to cup Phil's cheek. Dan searched for something in Phil's blue eyes, and, probably finding it, he tilted his partner's head to the side. Phil felt Dan's mouth getting closer his to ear, dropping a light kiss right under.
"Here's what we're going to do, Father," Dan whispered, with Sister's Daniel tone making Phil shiver. "You're going to go to the kitchen, pick up some snacks and water for us and leave them in our bedroom. Meanwhile, I will start a shower for us, and… Once everything's ready… You're going to join me in the bathroom. You will undress me, get on your knees" she instructed, "and when we will be all nice and set, do you know what you're going to do, Father?"
Phil swallowed hard, feeling himself grow in his pants, but shook his head—slowly, not to smack the nun.
Sister Daniel's murmured voice was so close to him, it could as well just have been inside his head, nested under his skull, "You're going to fuck me so hard no payer will save us from Hell."
Phil shuddered so heavily Dan chuckled, out of character for a second, pecked Phil's nape and removed his hand from under his robe, urging Phil to get off his lap and out of the office.
Phil sometimes regretted it, to have a creative mind.
Not that his brain was the actual problem—although, it probably was an issue, as it gave him migraines on a regular basis—but the thing was that it gave him ideas, and those ideas were often validated by Dan and producers because they were good and ended up being real. Which. Great. Normally. Great.
It was great. When his ideas didn't include his amazing, gorgeous boyfriend in a slutty, short nun costume on a stage in front of thousands of people and filmed.
That—
Maybe that was a little too much.
Not that he was unused to the actual show: they had done about six dozens of those in the past five months, and both Dan and Phil had quickly fallen back into the familiar rhythm of touring. But there was something about the fact that this evening was being filmed. That they would sit back in a few weeks and rewatch this performance, edit this show, release this gig for everyone to see on YouTube in months.
Phil wanted every show to be perfect, of course, but maybe this one had to be even better: he was focused on not falling from the stage and not forgetting his lines—which were a second nature by now, as much as Phil hated to have a script, he could coat his words in enough confidence for it to seem professional. Because it was a professional show. Their third tour—fourth for Dan.
So far, it had gone pretty well—he was having fun with Dan and the fans were laughing. Cum had leaked during one of their games—spiritually—which was predictable, knowing the audience they had raised.
Their pretend boxing fight had just ended and Dan had left to get into Sister Daniel's costume and persona. Phil was talking about his own channel, words smoothly flowing out of his mouth in the right order, occasionally looking at different parts of the audience—but all his brain was actually focused on was Dan.
Firstly, obviously—he was talking about him, because when was he not, about how brave it was of him to call the hiatus despite the numerous jokes about it.
Then, Dan was always on his mind; he had a permanent place in a corner of Phil's psyche, and he definitely had a Dan sense, one that tingled and made him tense whenever his partner wasn't in his direct line of sight even though, realistically, he knew Dan was just a few feet away. He was just behind the thick, black curtain used to delimitate the stage.
And finally, Phil was nearing the end of his monologue, which meant Sister Daniel was right around the corner, and tonight of all nights, Phil fucking had to behave. There were cameras. He had to seem at least a tiny bit uncomfortable when—
"—and if that involves being a little bit uncomfy, a little bit angry, I think that's better than being trapped in the closet anymore!" he exclaimed, surprising himself a bit.
Right. Now. It was now.
The audience cheered at his joyful conclusion. Phil smiled, waiting for the familiar voice.
"Oh. We're 'moving forward', are we?"
Oh, the perfect mix of teasing and sarcastic. Phil was so weak to this exact combination. Of course, Dan had mastered it.
Phil morphed his face into a confused expression, effectively hiding his giddiness as the church bell heavily rang.
"Have you been a naughty audience?"
He concealed the beginning of a smirk into his palm.
"Have you… Sinned? Well, it is time to confess."
Not matter how many times Phil had heard her voice—whether it was during their shows, while rehearsing or in the comfort of their own home because Dan randomly dropped some lines to himself while making dinner—it seemed he would never get tired of it.
He tried not to watch as she walked in, but he knew Dan was radiating confidence and a sense of grace only Sister Daniel could give him. He patiently let her tease him with the crucifix necklace, turning around him—God she was beautiful. Phil had to actually suppress his restlessness, nerves slowly igniting, knowing what was about to happen.
Sister Daniel dropped Father Philip's robe right in front of Phil, stepped over it and bent at the waist to retrieve it, pushing her ass in Phil's face.
Phil wasn't ashamed to say it was his very own idea, although it had been said as a joke, but he was sincerely, genuinely cursing himself, completely missing Dan's part because he just couldn't figure out how to put the robe on. His brain was… Still somewhere between Dan's leg—but when wasn't it?
Phil was only a man in love, sue him.
He often liked to think Dan had been put on his way by fate, and it had to be for a reason. For years, Phil had tried to figure out why. Was it simply because they were soulmates? He had thought that for a while, seeing how well and fast they had clicked together. But maybe it was because the universe knew Dan needed a help Phil could gladly provide—unconditional love and support, in sickness and in health, till death did them part.
But eventually, Phil had found another reason: Dan was the most beautiful human being he had ever set his eyes on—inside and out—, and the universe knew Phil was made to appreciate such loveliness, as Dan's snorted laugh reminded him after Moose's confession.
All in all, the section hadn't been too bad—he had behaved and been funny, managed not to slip on the floor, wet from the water they were spraying from the gun—and it was time to end the segment.
Dan began, standing—as he should at all moments—right by Phil's side, "Well, here we are, two grown men in London."
The ridiculousness of the situation and the stupid warmth emanating from Dan, so close to him, made Phil laugh along the audience, and he stuttered a bit, "I-I don't feel like we can do the rest of the show as a nun and a slutty boxing priest."
Even before Dan could open his mouth to react, Phil realised what he'd just said.
Shit.
Although Sister Daniel was now a recurring enough character in his life, she would never fail to make him stumble on his words at some point.
"Sorry," Dan said, gently patting his shoulder, "I think Phil means as a slutty nun and a boxing priest."
Well, better roll with it now.
"I said what I said."
The audience cheered, and Dan and Phil ran off to the side of the stage. The next segment was challenging: getting out of their their parody of religious set of clothing and into their regular outfits, while still talking, in a cramped room that was more of a hallway. Which—which meant sometimes, people working in the venues could walk in on them in compromising positions.
It had happened once for Dan when he was changing into Sister Daniel. Dan was fine with it—he had been butt out in front of a live audience already, he was used to it. The poor, old lady probably needed therapy, though.
During rehearsals, Phil had tried to help with the outfit. Sister Daniel's costume was a nightmare—snug, with holes everywhere and fishnets that did wonders on Dan's legs but were impossible to take off. In theory, teamwork should have made the whole thing easier. In practice? Ripped tights, a lot of sweat and even more swearing.
It should have been hot, in a way—Phil felt like undressing Dan was always sexy and intimate. Reality had been deceiving: none of it had been remotely sensual.
Eventually they’d agreed the fastest method was simply to handle it themselves.
And it worked.
Now that they were used to it, they often finished early and ended up just… standing there for a second, in their hallway. Like tonight, continuing their not-so-secret secret nonsense, pushing it just long enough. Able to watch each other with the widest, most stupid grins on their faces and their lovely audience patiently waiting on the other side of the curtain.
In this night of public exposure, stealing those moments was unreal, reminding Phil of a decade and a half of stolen glances behind the scenes. Yet, he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, because while he was only able to love Dan in private, at least he could love Dan.
He wasn't willing to lose that.
"Just lean down—lean down, lean down," Phil instructed into the void.
"Oh, this is gonna ruin the tour," Dan sobbed.
"Oh, God."
Phil was doing his best not to burst out laughing at the quite obvious reference.
"Oh, the world tour's over," Dan repeated.
"It's over," Phil parroted in turn, winking at Dan.
He tilted his head in the stage's direction. Dan nodded.
"Right. Phil. No one's gonna know. Get your shit together." He walked in Phil's direction, "Get your—fucking—" he gently smack Phil's hand a few times, just enough to be caught by their microphones, "get your shit together."
Phil yelped—between that and having an almost permanent bruise on his arm, they really had to have at least one hurtful element in each tour.
"Nothing happened," Dan said, his hand momentarily squeezing Phil's. "Three."
"Piss."
"Two."
"Okay."
"One."
Dan's fingers pulled away from Phil's as they walked back onto the stage. Together.