Work Text:
Phil is not typically one to stereotype.
In fact, he'd like to think he's the opposite - always trying to let people speak for themselves rather than letting his perceptions of them speak for them.
He can't help but be a little intimidated, though, as he's seeing the building that he hopes will one day be his flower shop for the first time, and discovers it is, in fact, directly next door to a tattoo parlour.
His eyes scan the front of the building he's come to visit, electing to pay his potential neighbours no mind in his decision.
As if sensing his dilemma, it's at that exact moment the property owner unlocks the papered-up windowed door, welcoming Phil in for his tour.
He takes a deep breath. Pay it no mind.
.✦˚.*˖⚘˖*.˚✦.
Phil ends up buying the building.
It's an investment, he knows, but it's one he's been saving for, and running his own floristry business is his lifelong dream, so it feels like a worthy one.
Once he's in the building, he finds himself completely forgetting about what sits on the other side of the shared wall, envisioning the layout of the shop and how he'd bring the space to life.
It's getting late once he heads out again, after exploring and signing all the necessary paperwork. So late in fact, that the sun is beginning to set.
The previous property owner, an older man who simply hadn't the energy anymore for running the bookshop the building had previously been, had left all but an hour ago, handing over the keys to Phil and wishing him the best of luck in his ventures. Still somewhat awestruck, Phil had decided to stay a little bit later, getting used to the space a bit more before he headed out.
When he eventually does, it's already early evening. Part of him wants to stay even longer, but with nothing to do without bringing in tools and paint and the like, he reluctantly heads out the front door.
He's reminded of the tattoo parlour almost instantly.
Not from seeing the building, no, but by seeing the drop-dead gorgeous man who leaves it.
Phil turns around so fast he makes himself dizzy.
Pulling the door closed, he lifts the handle, inserting the key and attempting to turn it. It doesn't move. He tries again. Nothing.
Panic sets in for a moment, before a voice appears beside him, and suddenly his anxiety increases ten-fold.
"There's a bit of a knack to it," The voice, which upon inspection, happens to belong to the absolute supermodel Phil had seen leaving the parlour, explains. "You can't lift the handle the whole way, it has to be at an angle."
He reaches out, placing his hand over the top of Phil's, adjusting the handle so it's in the right place. Phil knows how to be normal about this. He is being so sane and normal right now.
"Try it now," The man says. His voice is feathery soft, not demanding, and not at all what Phil had expected him to sound like.
He almost forgets to turn the key at the observation, hurrying to cover up his delayed response by turning the key as fast as physically possible. It probably just makes him look even more ridiculous.
Miraculously, the key turns. The man removes his hand from Phil's, and Phil can't help but miss the contact the second it's gone. He tries the handle, just for something to do. It's locked.
"Thank you," Phil says, because even in the face of the hottest man he has ever seen, he has manners. "How did you know that would work?"
The man smiles. "Oh, I own the place next door." He points to the tattoo parlour, then gestures vaguely to himself. "That one, if you couldn't tell from looking at me."
It's true. Even if Phil hadn't seen him leaving, he admits he probably would've assumed that's where he'd come from.
The parts of his arms that are visible beneath his rolled-up flannel sleeves are covered in tattoos, the ink swirling in countless styles, all of which have Phil mesmerised instantly. Various pieces of silver jewellery adorn his face; his ears, his eyebrow, his nose. None of it takes away from the man's natural beauty, though - the depth of his eyes, the kind curl of his smile, the way his hair looks perfect for running your hands through, the-
Phil snaps himself out of it.
"Oh, uh- yeah," He laughs. "I suppose so."
There's an awkward pause for a moment, Phil temporarily incapacitated by the mystery man's eyes.
"I'm Phil, by the way," He says, when his brain finally remembers how to interact with other human beings. "I just bought this building today, so I guess I'm your neighbour now?"
The man smiles. "Nice to meet you, Phil."
He holds out a hand for Phil to shake. Phil is so normal about this.
"I'm Dan."
Phil takes in a slightly shakier breath than he had hoped for. He shakes his hand for a perfectly respectable amount of time. He is so fine right now. So fine and normal.
"Nice to meet you, too, Dan." Before he has a chance to embarrass himself even further, he adds. "See you tomorrow, if you're here? I have to head off, I've got loads to do tonight."
The man - Dan - nods in understanding.
"See you tomorrow, Phil," He says. "Feel free to come over if you need anything. I promise I don't bite."
"Thank you," Phil says with a smile. He's not sure he's the type of person who belongs in a tattoo parlour, but he appreciates the offer nonetheless. "See ya."
With a small wave, and a frankly ridiculous shade of pink shading his cheeks, Phil turns to leave.
This was going to be interesting.
.✦˚.*˖⚘˖*.˚✦.
If Phil spends the whole evening stalking the social media accounts of Dan's tattoo parlour in the hopes of getting a glimpse of him, that's entirely his business, and he categorically denies the fact he got a little carried away with it and is now paying the price for his late night as he attempts to transport four entirely full tins of paint across London, without a car, while running on about five hours of sleep.
He stumbles in the front door of his new building, thankful he found it significantly easier to unlock than he had to lock it the night before, haphazardly throwing his bags on the floor the second he gets in.
He knows he has a long day ahead of him, and he's not a particularly talented decorator by any means of the word, but he has a vision for his shop, and he's determined to bring it to life himself.
Needless to say, it's not much of a surprise when he ends up covered in various shades of paint before midday has even rolled around.
He sighs, finally finishing up the multi-shade background of the feature wall he'd decided, for some reason, that he could do himself, heading to the bathroom to tidy himself up a bit.
His day takes a turn, however, when he twists on the tap, only for the first few drops to stutter and spit, before cutting out entirely.
Phil pauses. Tries turning it off and on again. Tries the cold tap. Nothing.
"Fuck."
He tries not to panic, he really does, but it's easier said than done when you're covered in green paint in a part of the city you do not live in with no way to get home which does not involve public transport.
Fuck, he thinks, is actually quite a reasonable response.
It's then he hears a door close next door, and an idea dawns on him.
Was he really going to…? What other choice did he have?
He's made the decision before he's really thought about it.
He heads out of his building, locking the door with still a hint of struggle but nowhere near as much as he had the night prior, and makes his way to the tattoo parlour.
As he reaches level to the windows, he can see there's no one in there except Dan and an equally tattooed woman who Phil only just catches a glimpse of before she disappears into the back of the studio. Staff then, Phil determines, and a sense of relief washes over him at the knowledge none of Dan's customers will be here to witness this.
Suddenly aware he's got no idea what the etiquette in this situation is, he knocks on the door before he opens it, catching Dan's attention.
The door groans as he pushes it open, and Phil's not sure whether he winces at the sound of it or the way Dan's jaw physically drops open when he sees him.
"Oh my god," Dan half-gasps, half-laughs. "What the fuck happened to you?"
"Uh…" Phil hesitates. "I tried to paint the walls?"
It comes out as more of a question than a statement, like he's not really sure if he tried to paint the walls or the walls tried to paint him.
Dan cackles, like full-on cackles, and for some weird reason, it doesn't feel like he's necessarily laughing at Phil, more at his misfortune. Phil finds himself enjoying it more than he'd like to think about.
"Oh my god," Dan wheezes again.
It's at that moment that the door to the back of the studio opens, and this time it's Phil's turn for his jaw to drop.
"Sophie?" He asks incredulously.
"Phil!" She beams, somehow not at all fazed by this occurrence. "What are you doing here? And should I even ask about-" She gestures vaguely at his entire being. "-this?"
"Uh… " Phil chuckles. "Had a bit of an incident painting the shop."
Sophie laughs. "I can see that. Dare I ask why you decided to come here about it?"
"Well, uh, my new shop is next-door. The water's out."
"Oh!" She exclaims. "That's so cool! I mean about the shop, not the water."
"Sorry to interrupt," Dan says, looking between the two of them. "You two know each other?"
Sophie's eyebrows rise. "Yeah! Phil and PJ are, like, best friends. Have been for years."
"Oh, cool," Dan says, a complicated expression flickering across his face for a second, but it's gone before Phil can decipher it. He turns to Phil. "Did you, uh- need a hand with that?"
It's then that Phil remembers he is, in fact, covered in paint.
"Oh! Uh, if I could just borrow your bathroom for a minute, that would be great."
"Yeah, sure," Dan smiles. "It's just down there and to the left. Don't worry if you get paint anywhere, I don't mind."
"Thank you," Phil says, and heads towards where Dan had pointed.
Luckily, the majority of the paint on his skin comes off quite easily. He's not too fussed about his clothes, he'd worn old ones in preparation for this exact event, but he tries to do some damage control anyway.
Turns out, the door is not exactly soundproof, as he can faintly hear Dan and Sophie's voices floating through the building.
He doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but the minute he hears his own name, he's a lost cause.
"You know Phil?"
Sophie responds with something, but Phil can't quite tell what she says. It's difficult to make out every word, but luckily for him, Dan seems to be somewhat unaware of the volume of his own voice.
"No, I'm just saying… you didn't even introduce me to a hot guy? A hot guy you've known for years, for that matter?" He sounds incredulous, but light-hearted.
Phil's brain short circuits.
"I thought you didn't want us to set you up anymore!" Sophie counters, just loud enough for Phil to hear.
"Well obviously this is different! Have you seen him? He's beautiful!"
It's at this point Phil wonders whether the bleach had gone to his head. Or the paint fumes, perhaps.
There was no way he was hearing this right. Right?
"We just thought………… and PJ…… you know?"
"Is he… I mean. We play for the same team, right?"
Despite himself, Phil has to hold back a laugh. He thinks it's fairly obvious.
Sophie takes a kinder approach. "Yeah, he does."
There's a bit more mumbling, just about too quiet to be made out.
Then, it goes quiet for a moment. Phil - now paint-free for the most part - seizes the opportunity, bursting out of the tiny bathroom with all the grace of a giraffe on stilts.
He tries to act casual, as if he hadn't just heard the hottest guy he's ever seen in his life calling him beautiful and complaining that their mutual friends had not attempted to set them up. Honestly, Phil has to agree with him on that last part. The first part, too, actually.
"Hi," He says. The two of them are still, as if they'd forgotten the man they were talking about was actually in the building with them. "Thanks for, uh, bathroom." Phil stumbles, heading straight for the door.
Real smooth. He knows.
"Oh, uh, no pro-" He's out the door before he can hear the rest of Dan's sentence. He only feels mildly bad about it.
.✦˚.*˖⚘˖*.˚✦.
After a while pacing around the empty floristry studio - with the door locked, windows covered, and paint job long since forgotten about - Phil decides he can't just hang around anymore. He needs to get to the bottom of this.
Still pacing, he pulls his somehow only vaguely paint-covered phone from his pocket, scrolling down to PJ's contact before he has a chance to second-guess himself.
It rings three times before he answers.
"Phil, hi!" PJ beams.
"PJ," Phil starts, sounding entirely too serious. "I need answers."
PJ splutters. "What? About what?"
"Dan."
"What about Dan?" PJ asks, then: "Wait, how do you know Dan?"
"His studio happens to be right next to my new building," Phil explains, and try as he might, he can't hold up the serious tone for much longer. "Tell me why I went in there and found Sophie?"
"I mean she works there," PJ responds, helpfully. There's a laugh in his voice, like he can tell Phil's putting on an act of seriousness. "And you went in there why? Did you get a tattoo?"
"What? No, I uh- it's not important." Phil drops the act entirely. "PJ. He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. It's not fair. I've already made a right fool of myself in front of him! Twice, actually! I don't know what to do." He drags out the last syllable, turning it into more of a whine than an actual word.
"Well, what do you want to do?" PJ asks, ever practical.
Phil responds before he can think about it. "Kiss him."
PJ laughs. Phil only feels a little bit embarrassed. "Okay, well, how do you plan on doing that, then?"
"Uh… with my mouth?" Phil says, wisely.
PJ laughs again. "No, you muppet. You know what I mean."
"Yeah," Phil sighs. "I don't know. Any ideas?"
There's a moment of silence. Phil's heart rate picks up.
"Actually, I might have one…" PJ says. "What kind of timeframe are you thinking?"
"Why? What are you planning?"
"Well…"
.✦˚.*˖⚘˖*.˚✦.
Four hours later, the plan is in full swing.
PJ had come over immediately after the phone call, offering up his creative capabilities to help Phil finish decorating his studio.
It was beautiful.
The entire interior was bursting with shades of green, from pastel hues to darker, forest green. It was carefully planned, thought out by the mastermind that was PJ, but looked carefree and fun.
The real show-stopper, however, was the feature wall. The left-hand wall - the one he shared with Dan, funnily enough - was made up mostly of the same green hues as the rest of the room. That part was Phil's doing, and the cause for his visit next-door. Layered on top of it, though, were several intricate floral shapes, splashes of vibrant, energetic pink bringing the room to a whole other level. These, of course, were PJ's doing.
PJ, having access to a car, had also transported a table and two chairs across London for the occasion, along with some candles, matches, a vase, and a certain something from one of Phil's flower suppliers.
Then, he'd gone over to next-door to see Sophie, and perhaps to… sublty hint… that she should finish early today. Apparently, she'd picked up what was happening incredibly quickly, which Phil is not sure how to feel about, and smoothly used the excuse of a convenient lift home to explain the situation to Dan, who was supposedly a little confused but understanding nonetheless.
PJ and Sophie had really gone above and beyond for Phil today. He couldn't begin to explain how grateful he was.
They wish him luck as they drive off, and it hits Phil then how real this was all getting.
With a deep breath, he picks up the vase and heads next door, officially setting the plan into motion.
He knocks on the door again, catching Dan's attention just the same as he had before. It's getting on a bit by now, only ten minutes until closing time, so there are no clients inside. Phil isn't religious by any means, but in that moment, he thanks god.
"Hey," He says, once again trying for casual.
"Hey," Dan replies, eyeing the vase in Phil's hands curiously.
"A surprise. For you," Phil says.
Dan's eyebrows raise. "Oh?"
"Can I borrow your tap again?"
Dan pauses, caught slightly off-guard. "Oh, uh. Yeah. Sure."
Phil walks past, maintaining eye contact the whole time, and fills the vase up in the bathroom. When he returns, he heads back to the door. Dan doesn't move.
"Are you coming, or what?" Phil asks, with a smile.
"Oh!" Dan exclaims, finally getting up from his seat. "Yeah, I- uh. Yeah."
"Good."
Phil leads the two of them out onto the street, Dan locking his door behind him, and into his freshly decorated shop.
"Wow," Dan breathes, admiring the interior.
The windows were still covered with newspapers, keeping out the sunlight and any prying eyes, but the candles on the table in the middle of the room lit the space beautifully. Their light flickered across the walls, dancing shadows surrounding the pair of them.
"I, uh… hope this isn't too forward of me," Phil says, placing the vase down on the table and turning to face Dan.
Dan's eyes snap back to Phil's. "No, of course not! I mean… yeah, okay, maybe a little unexpected. But I like it. It's confident."
"Thank you, but I don't think it really is that confident." Phil's mouth forms a small, shy smile. Dan gives him a confused look. "I, uh… heard you and Sophie talking while I was washing the paint off. Kind of figured you wouldn't exactly mind if I… made a move, or whatever."
Dan's jaw actually drops slightly, a blush so intense it's visible even in the candlelight rising to his cheeks in an instant.
"Oh," He says, intelligently. "That's… that's embarrassing. But, I mean, you figured right, so."
Phil laughs, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. He watches Dan's gaze drop, and suddenly he's blushing, too.
"I, uh…" Phil continues. "I got this for you."
He disappears into his office for a moment.
When he returns, he's holding a single, vibrant red rose with perfect petals and a leaf so stereotypically placed it's almost comical.
Dan's breath catches. The building is so quiet, Phil can hear it from across the room.
"Oh my god," He whispers. Phil hopes that's a good thing.
Gathering his courage, Phil approaches the table again. He pulls out a chair for Dan, who blushes and thanks him, before Phil presents him with the rose.
"It's beautiful," Dan whispers, twirling it between his fingers. "Like you."
Phil feels his face heat up, and he has to duck his head slightly to hide the shade of his cheeks and the ridiculous grin he's currently sporting. "Thank you."
Carefully, Dan places it in the vase.
"So…" Phil starts, suddenly nervous all over again. "I don't actually have any way of cooking here. Do you want to get a takeaway? There's a Chinese place down the road I've been dying to try."
"Oh my god," Dan says, and for a moment Phil's heart stops. "Yes. A hundred percent yes. I love that place." He pauses. Then, "I think I might also love you."
Phil practically gasps, a sound which quickly turns into a nervous giggle.
"Sorry," Dan laughs, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. Phil can't help but watch the way the tattoos lining his arm move as he does it. "Was that a bit much?"
"Not at all," Phil smiles. "Wait til you find out what a single red rose means."
Dan raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Phil just laughs. "Shall we order some food?"
The answer, unsurprisingly, is yes, and within half an hour their food has arrived, they've shared it out, and tucked in. Conversation flows easily between them, like they're two parts of the same wavelength, knowing by some invisible force when to listen and when to speak.
By the time they've finished eating and conversation has lulled, it's been almost two hours. The time had flown by.
Upon noticing the time, Dan had offered to walk Phil home, and Phil had gone about as red as the rose on the table. He'd said yes, of course, wanting to spend as much time as possible with Dan.
They'd walked at a leisurely pace, in no rush to get anywhere. They sat with their bodies pressed together on the tube, fingers just about touching beneath the armrest, electricity buzzing between them.
They arrived at Phil's house all too quickly.
"This is me," Phil says, gesturing to the block of flats beside them.
Dan sighs. "You sure you don't live a couple blocks further?"
Phil laughs. "That's so cliché."
"Yeah, well," Dan laughs. "Worth a try."
A silence passes between them, then, and it's heavy, but somehow carries not a trace of awkwardness. They're standing impossibly close together, eyes locked, tension buzzing.
Dan takes a deep breath.
"Can I kiss you?" He asks, and it's the most nervous Phil's ever seen him. "I've been thinking about it all night. And since I met you, actually. But you don't have to say yes, I mean, I'm not forcing you or anything, and-"
"Dan," Phil says, cutting him off with a single word. "I thought you'd never ask."
Dan seems to freeze, as if he's genuinely surprised for a second that Phil had said yes. He blinks, snapping himself out of it, and then he's leaning in.
The kiss is delicate, fragile like the petals of the rose clutched in Dan's hand. His other hand is balanced gently on Phil's cheek, Phil's hand finding the crook of his elbow.
It's sweet and slow, but no less passionate, and completely them.
They'd moved quickly in every other aspect of their relationship. This was their chance to slow down.
When they pulled apart, they were both smiling.
"I'm so glad you moved in next to me," Dan says. "But I'm so gonna kill PJ and Sophie for not introducing us sooner."
Phil laughs, and it's a bright, energetic sound. "I'll help."
For a second, there's another lull, their eyes caught on each other's.
"For the record," Phil adds. "I'm glad I moved in, too."
Dan smiles.
They stand outside Phil's flat for another twenty minutes or so, somehow with conversation still to share, but then Phil is yawning and they're both reminded of the time.
"Sorry for keeping you out so long," Dan says.
"That's ridiculous, don't apologise. I've loved every second. Besides, it was my idea."
Dan laughs. "Okay, yeah, fair enough."
"I should probably head in, though." Phil says, and he hates that the night has to come to an end, but he really is tired.
"Good idea," Dan says, taking a step back. "Thank you for tonight."
"No problem," Phil smiles. "Just one thing though."
"Yeah?" Dan asks.
"Aren't you going to give me a goodnight kiss?"
Dan laughs, immediately stepping back into Phil's space.
"Of course, how could I forget?" He says, and leans in once more to press his lips to Phil's.
Nearby, a streetlight flickers, the glow catching on the petals of the rose still clutched in Dan's hand, as if the candlelight in the studio had followed them all the way home.
They didn't say it out loud, but they both knew without a doubt that this was the start of something special.
A love at first sight.
.✦˚.*˖⚘˖*.˚✦.