Work Text:
Dan closes the laptop, and Phil’s on the other end of the couch refusing to look at him before either of them have a chance to say anything. Dan’s about to ask what he did when Phil answers the question for him.
“A mutual friend, huh?” The words hit him and it falls into place. Phil’s tone is bitter and frustrated and Dan isn’t sure what it is exactly about the slip-up that hurt Phil, but he does know he deserves this, Phil is allowed to be mad at him for this. He hadn’t actually meant to say it, but he had, and it was there now, forever, and now he had to deal with that. But that isn’t what he says, and he doesn’t know why it isn’t, he just knows that his mouth is spouting defensive nonsense before he makes a decision about what exactly he does plan to say,
“What was I supposed to say, Phil? They think everything is ‘Phan’ and I-”
“Say nothing maybe?” Phil is trying to be angry, he knows him well enough to tell, but despite the forced anger in his tone the look in his eyes is giving him away. He’s hurt. Dan’s hurt him. “I’m going to bed.” Phil announces, because this is what Phil does. He retreats. He pulls away and he leaves Dan a room over and it keeps happening lately. It’s all there; it’s in everything they’re not saying and it’s in the times when he says something sour and Phil takes a long shower with the door locked.
“Phil, it’s only just past 10.” He doesn’t want to fight, he wants the words of an apology to come, but they’re not. They’re caught in his throat and he’s choking on all the things that he hasn’t said and all the things he hasn’t apologised for. He’s choking on all the times he wanted to tell everyone everything and all the times he lashed out because he’s too scared and too private to do that and he’s choking on the ‘please don’t look at me like that’ that he’s dying to say to Phil right now.
“I’m tired, Dan.” Phil doesn’t need to say anything else to get his point across, but all Dan wants him to do is say something else. Say more. Say the things they won’t say. To tell him why they’ve suddenly got problems or what he’s actually feeling about the way that their relationship feels like it’s all the same but two inches to the left for the past few months. To tell him what he has to say to make what he’s already said okay.
“I know it wasn’t right, okay? But I don’t-”
“We’re not getting into this when you’re drunk, Dan.” Dan finds himself scoffing at that, because he’s really not that drunk. Okay, he was maybe somewhat drunk when he actually said the Mutual Friend Sentence of Doom, but now? If the time to mellow out hadn’t been enough, the disappointment and upset and anger in Phil’s cold eyes was enough to sober anyone up.
“I’m really not that drunk.” He replies, but it isn’t enough. It’s the opposite of enough. He knows it’s wrong but none of the words are coming, none of the things he actually needs to say will come out of his mouth. When did he stop knowing how to talk to Phil about things? He needs to be able to talk to Phil about everything otherwise he’s afraid he’ll loose his voice altogether.
“Goodnight, Dan. I’ll see you in the morning. I love you.” Phil always says it, he always says it at the end of a fight because he’s brave. He’s braver than Dan’s ever going to be, and he can always put it out there and can always offer the promise that even if they’re fighting now there’s going to be better. They didn’t fight much for a long time. They still don’t fight much, but they have been sometimes now. Not often. But it happens. And it’s always like this. It’s always unresolved half-truths and none of it goes anywhere because whatever problem they’ve got they aren’t actually bringing it up, they’re talking around it. Treating all the symptoms and never the cause. Dan thinks it’s probably because he, at least, has no idea what the cause is exactly. Nothing feels easy anymore, and maybe that’s it, maybe that’s the problem, the sudden difficulty in everything. But Phil always tells Dan he loves him anyway, because Phil can always be brave for him. Dan isn’t that brave, but sometimes he can muster enough to reply in turn when Phil says it. But tonight, Phil’s already left the room, and Dan hears the door slamming at the end of the hallway. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to be sleeping in their room or ‘his’ room tonight or not.
***
It’s three a.m. when Dan finally goes to bed, and he does go to their room. Part of him wants to give Phil space. But most of him needs to sleep next to Phil, because he won’t sleep at all if he doesn’t and then he’ll just be even more irritable when they talk tomorrow. He can’t stand the thought of arguing again straight off the bat like that. So he goes to their door. Phil, thank God, hasn’t actually locked it or tried to keep Dan out. Because Phil is brave when Dan isn’t. He crawls in next to Phil, and he’s a little afraid as he does so. He lies, tense, on his back for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Phil’s a heavy sleeper, maybe Dan’s gotten lucky and he hasn’t noticed. But then Phil’s sleep ridden voice slices through the room, and he’s afraid until he registers the words.
“Go to sleep, Bear. It’s okay.” Phil’s hand is reaching out, grazing his along his arm until it finds his hand. Phil locks their hands together, and it’s fine. They’re fine. They’re going to be fine.
***
Dan wakes up to an empty bed the next morning, but that’s not so unusual. Phil is almost always awake before him. He gets up, and pads into the living room, knowing that they honestly have to talk, even though he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to defend himself, or even he really even wants to, because he hadn’t actually thought about the statement before saying it, and that was the problem. He didn’t know why he’d done it, so he couldn’t defend it.
Phil’s there, on the couch with his laptop in front of him, a cup of coffee resting on the coffee table in front of him, next to an empty cereal bowl.
“Morning, love.” Dan says quietly, staying in the doorway because he can’t move closer yet and he resents the hesitance even he can hear in the words.
“Morning.” Phil’s tone is a little clipped, and Dan knows he’s getting the silent treatment now that they aren’t in the safety of their dark bedroom. Normally, he would get snarky and push back, start yelling about how Phil was being unfair because it wasn’t Dan’s fault that they’d gotten rejected for the last flat or that Phil had blown a small statement out of proportion. ‘Normally’, meaning honestly once a month. They’re fine, really, or he hopes they are. It’s just sometimes a little hard knowing that ‘fine’ is all they are at the moment because they used to be deliriously happy. Dan’s not going to argue this time. Because this time he was unfair.
“I didn’t mean to lie.” He starts. Phil won’t look at him. “I didn’t think before I said it. I don’t know why I said it and I regret saying it.”
“It’s just going to make everything worse is all Dan. You want to be ashamed of it or whatever’s going on with you, fine, but people already know and it’s just going to make it worse that you lied about it.” Phil says, and it’s painfully flat. Dan hates this, he hates how easy it is for Phil to stay so flat about it because it burns Dan up completely.
“I didn’t mean to do it, okay? I get that, I’m not actually an idiot.” And he didn’t mean that, either, he hadn’t wanted to get defensive.
“Don’t. Dan, I don’t want to fight anymore.” Phil sounds resigned and he still won’t fucking look at him, and this is horrible. This is like pressing his thumb to a bruise and just holding it there, but for some reason, he can’t pull back.
“Contrary to what you and everyone else seems to think, I haven’t been the only one starting arguments, Phil.” Phil finally looks at him, and he doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. It takes Phil a long moment to speak, but when he finally does, his tone is even but it isn’t quite so dead anymore.
“I know.” He sounds hurt and almost guilty, but it’s a start. He could be biting back right now but instead he’s backing down. “I know that. I haven’t been much good either, and I’m sorry.” Dan finally feels safe enough to move away from the door and walk around the couch to sit down next to Phil. this feels like a tipping point. It feels like they might actually be about to deal with something. He spills first, because Phil won’t. Phil will bottle it and hope it goes away if he doesn’t talk to Dan about anything real for two days. But it never does.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, Phil.” he admits quietly. Phil sighs beside him.
“I don’t either.” Dan looks over and sees Phil looking at the ceiling. There’s something new and unpleasant about the expression, and Dan doesn’t know how to do this, so he backpedals and jokes because it’s all he knows how to do.
“Then we’re fucked, to be honest, what are we supposed to do if you don’t have an answer?” Phil lets out a breath of laughter, and it’s more than Dan was hoping for. When he looks back over and their eyes lock, it feels like a truce.
“Work out the answer as we go along?” Phil suggests. And it sounds good in theory, but;
“That hasn’t been working so far.” Phil chews his lip, and Dan knows the expression he’s wearing. He’s organising some serious thought, and Dan’s hoping and praying that it might be the serious thought that will finally identify the cause.
“I think it hasn’t been working because we haven’t been trying to do it together. I don’t want to be on the opposite team anymore.” Dan frowns a little. The words feel correct but they still make him ache.
“I didn’t reali-realise you felt like we were on opposite teams.” It’s his turn to look away now.
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you feel like that?” It’s a long moment before he has anything to reply with.
“I don’t know what I’m feeling Phil.” That wasn’t true. He knew. But there are only so many times you can say the word ‘scared’ before it loses its meaning, and there’s just nothing to quantify the levels of all the pedestrian emotions that he’s been feeling in weird, amped-up ways. “I just feel like everything’s been so stressful and I don’t know why you started pulling away from me when it got tough instead of riding it out with me.” he might be being harsh; he might be pushing too much blame onto Phil. He’s not entirely sure. Everything’s a mess.
“I… I don’t know either. I know I’m afraid. I don’t know what of. Aside from the obvious things, like unemployment and going broke and being outed, I guess.”
“I’ve been afraid, too. And I don’t know what some of it is about as well. One thing I do know is that I’m afraid of losing you.” It’s a big confession. It feels so big and honest and part of him worries that now that it’s out there in the world, now that it exists out side of him, it’s a tangible possibility in a way that it wasn’t before. But Phil’s expression softens, and that part of him gets smaller.
“You won’t. You’ve always got me, always. You’re always going to be my person.” He grabs Phil’s hand for a moment and squeezes. This isn't everything they have to deal with. This barely scratches the surface, because they haven't actually discussed any of their issues enough. But he is Phil's person, and Phil is his person, and that won't change. So maybe that has to be enough for today, and everything feels heavier and lighter all at once. One thing Dan does know is that there’s not enough air in the room for both of them right now. He stands up.
“I’m going to go out for a while. Give you some space and stuff.” He’s about to go and get ready to shower, but Phil grabs his hand again.
“You don’t have to.” Phil insists, and there’s almost a ‘please don’t go’ underneath it. But he knows, if he stays they’ll just bristle each other. They need to breathe for a moment, even just a few hours.
“Phil, we both need a bit of space. I’ll be back for dinner.” Phil looks at him with understanding but a tiny bit of disappointment. Dan knows he’s right, though. He knows this is better.
“Okay. If you really want to.” Phil concedes.
“I think we need me to.” He’s leaving the room, but he stops, and he turns back to Phil, and he’s finally the brave one. “I love you, Phil.” Phil turns to him, and his eyes are a little bit lit up when he replies,
“I love you, too, Dan.”