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“You’re late.”
Dan doesn’t flinch, nor does he turn around when he hears the clatter of the metal ladder against his rooftop and the sound of footsteps follow shortly after. But he does smile a little, his lips twitching upwards when he hears an out of breath huff of exhaustion. Dan thinks that maybe they should move their little rendezvouses on the ground floor, maybe even inside of his room, but where’s the fun in that?
“I know.” Phil’s thick Northern accent cuts into the silent night that Dan had grown so accustomed to for the past hour, yet he still doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t turn around. “But some of us actually have jobs -”
“Hey, I have a job!” Dan is quick to interrupt.
“Fine, let me rephrase,” Phil says. “Some of us actually have jobs that won’t get us arrested, should people actually find out.” Dan doesn’t have to turn around to see the smug look on Phil’s face. What an arse. “And,” Phil continues, and Dan can hear him getting closer as he walks across the rooftop. “Sometimes when you have a job - a job that doesn’t result in incarceration - you get slammed with a double shift.”
Dan rolls his eyes. “You’re a fucking bartender, prick.” He finally turns around to look at Phil, and he offers him a lopsided smile. “Stop acting like you’re the head box boy at Tesco’s.”
“Fuck you,” Phil replies. He plops down next to him and swings his legs over the ledge, mimicking Dan’s, and the toe of Phil’s sneaker gently nudges Dan’s. Dan’s toes curl inside of his shoes. Goosebumps explode all throughout his forearms. He tells himself it’s because the wind had picked up, just slightly.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you Lester?” Dan’s snarky comebacks are like fuel to the fire that is his and Phil’s relationship, they keep Phil on his toes and time after time, Phil snickers and shakes his head. And Dan tries not to dwell on the fact that he doesn’t deny it.
“You’re such a prat,” Phil tells him and he nudges his shoulder lightly.
“Well, you’ve got to admit I’m a bit better than those chumps you hang out with at the bar,” Dan says and then immediately wishes he would’ve bit his tongue. There’s a sort of unspoken rule between the two of them that Dan doesn’t bring up Phil’s Real Life - specifically his parents and the aresholes he hangs out with that he calls his friends. Because when Phil is with Dan, none of that is supposed to matter; Dan is supposed to make him forget.
“Did you bring me anything?” he asks, quickly changing the subject and he swings his legs back over the ledge so he can walk across the roof of his flat and towards Phil’s backpack that he had discarded when he arrived.
“What makes you think I brought you anything?” Phil asks. Dan can hear him following behind, and he only stops to rest his chin on Dan’s shoulder. Dan doesn’t have to look to see that Phil’s smiling. Phil’s always smiling.
“Because you love me,” Dan replies, and it’s just another case of Dan not thinking before he speaks because his face burns as soon as the words leave his lips. “Because I’m your best friend,” he quickly adds afterwards.
“Best friend?” Phil repeats. There’s something about the way he says it - about the slight startled edge to his tone - that makes Dan’s heart race. And truthfully, he doesn’t blame him; he and Phil have always had a rather unorthodox relationship from the get go, always been a bit of an unconventional pair. But Dan knows there’s no one in his life quite like Phil, and no relationship he has or ever could have would compare to his with Phil. And yes, it’s a mess at times, but then again, so are they.
“Well, aren’t I?” he asks. He turns his head just slightly so he can look at Phil better, and Phil is already looking at him. “Aren’t I your best friend?” he repeats, hating the way he sounds the slightest bit desperate for validation but at the same time, he knows he needs it.
And Phil smiles again, the same dopey smile he’s always wearing, and he says, “Yeah. You are my best friend, Dan.” Dan tries to be subtle about the way he sighs in relief. “And I’m yours, right?”
Dan takes a moment to pretend to think it over, simply because he’s an arse, but can’t help but to smile when he says, “Yeah, you are my best friend.” And then neither of them say anything, they just stand there, looking at each other and smiling like idiots. It’s a moment, it’s something, and Dan’s heart hasn’t stopped racing yet. He quickly looks away and repeats, “So, did you bring me anything?”
Phil breathes out something that resembles a laugh and he leaves Dan’s side to grab his backpack. “I’m going to get fired if I keep smuggling you liquor, you know,” he tells Dan as he unzips his bag and pulls out a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of vodka. “You can always just come to the bar for a drink like a normal person.”
“And you can always pay for your Xanax and get it from a pharmacy instead of from me,” Dan says and offers a sarcastic, yet cheeky grin in Phil’s direction. “But that’s what friends are for, yeah?”
Phil rolls his eyes but he smiles, as usual, and he offers Dan the bottle of vodka. “Yeah,” he says. “That’s what friends are for.”
* * *
There’s a blanket laid out on the roof, Phil’s stolen alcohol open and each bottle about half empty, and the faint smell of weed sifts through the air as Dan and Phil lie together, giddy out of their minds and laughing at nothing. And Dan feels elated, so, so elated, and when he looks at Phil, he can’t help but to feel a little in love.
He wonders if this is what love it like - being on drugs or being drunk, feeling high and invincible, feeling over the moon for absolutely no reason. He wonders if being in love is looking into Phil’s eyes and seeing everything good in the world, he wonders if it’s hearing his laugh and deciding that it’s his favorite sound ever. He wonders if it’s all completely artificial, everything he’s feeling or thinks he’s feeling, and tomorrow when he’s sober, he’ll realize that he’s not in love with Phil Lester at all.
Except he is, he totally is. He knows it and he can only keep lying to himself for so long, before the truth comes out and everything either goes nowhere but up, or straight to hell. And the fear of not knowing is keeping Dan from being honest with himself.
So, instead, he’ll claim that the reason he keeps calling Phil “pretty” is because he’s high, and the reason he wants to cry when Phil wraps him up in his arms and gives him a goodnight kiss on the cheek is because he’s so piss drunk.
* * *
Phil’s loud groaning wakes Dan up hours later, and the brunet grumbles “Shut up,” and winces. Sleeping on the roof always seemed like a good idea in theory, but in reality, it’s not the least bit fun; for one, makes your back hurt like a bitch because concrete isn’t the least bit comfortable. Not to mention, there’s this thing called a temperature drop in the morning, so when you wake up you feel as though you’ve been thrust inside of Jack Frost’s asshole. And then there’s the added fact that he’s hungover as fuck. But truth be told, Dan can put those things aside if it means he gets to wake up next to Phil.
“My head hurt,” Phil announces, rolling over so he’s lying on his side, facing Dan.
“You’re hungover,” Dan replies, his eyes shutting almost as soon as he had opened them.
“My stomach hurts,” Phil continues, still facing Dan. His breath tickles Dan’s neck.
“I’m not surprised, you smell like puke,” he tells him and he rolls over to face Phil. “You’ve always been a lightweight.”
“Am not,” Phil grumbles.
Dan smiles a little. “I’ll make you some toast and tea before you leave, okay?” he tells him before he can stop himself. This isn’t how this goes; they’re supposed to hook up, in the least sexual way, and they’re supposed to have a good night together, and then Phil is supposed to leave in the morning and Dan’s supposed to pretend he doesn’t feel empty when he’s gone. They don’t do the ‘morning after’, and Dan isn’t sure what’s gotten into him but he just doesn’t want Phil to leave. Not yet.
Phil raises an eyebrow. “How domestic of you,” he says.
“Piss off,” Dan says, and he goes to roll away but Phil stops him, and he turns to look at him again, “what?” written all over his face
“Thanks,” Phil tells him.
There’s an edge to his tone that tells Dan he isn’t just talking about the tea and toast, but Dan doesn’t push him to say anymore. Instead he just smiles and asks, “What’re friends for?” But he knows that he’s not entirely selfless. In fact, he’s selfish, he’s so fucking selfish.
* * *
They’re back on the roof, they always end up on the roof. And Phil’s ranting about the “piss poor excuse of humans that dare to call themselves one of God’s creations” that made his shift at work an utter nightmare tonight. And even in his inebriated state, Dan finds it hard to believe how all of the arseholes in the world always wind up at the bar Phil works at - on the same night, nevertheless. But it does make for interesting stories for Dan to hear when they get together, and he loves seeing Phil so animated, waving his hands around while he goes on and on about how he hates his job and consequently the human race. He loves seeing the fire in his eyes while he moans about how he used to be such a loving person and now he’s been reduced to a pessimistic negative piece of shit. “Kind of like you,” he adds as an afterthought.
“Eat me,” Dan replies. He lays on his back, his arms tucked behind his head for slight elevation and he looks up at the night sky.
“You’re too bitter,” Phil replies, and Dan laughs a little too hard, a little too loud, because he’s so far under the influence and Phil’s terrible jokes are always funnier when he’s high.
He hears Phil’s footsteps nearing him and his shoes appear in his peripheral vision, but he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the vast fields of stars floating high above him. “Pretty,” he hears Phil says, and he quickly glances over to see Phil standing there staring up at the stars as well. Dan still hasn’t figured out why Phil humors him like this; Dan gets like this once a week, high and pretentious and space obsessed and it’s only a matter of minutes before he goes off about the whole scope of the universe and how incredibly, yet beautifully insignificant we all are. “Did you know,” Phil tells him. “That there are more stars in the sky than there are grains of sand on the beach.” Phil pauses briefly. “I think.”
Dan smiles a little, and then rises to his feet. “Did you know,” he starts, and trails off because he walks over to the ledge of the roof and loses his train of thought for a moment because he’s so captivated by the scene of millions of millions of stars shimmering in the sky. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Phil wraps his arms around Dan’s waist and holds him close to him, probably because he thinks he’s going to do something stupid and Dan doesn’t blame him for worrying. Dan worries himself sometimes. But right now, Dan feels so lightweight, like he’s walking on air, and he looks up at the stars high above his head and he can’t help but to feel at home. “Did you know,” he repeats. “That when we look out into space, we are looking into our own origins.” He feels breathless as he speaks, as if he can’t get the words out fast enough. He’s dizzy with excitement and he doesn’t even really know what he’s so excited about. “Because we are truly children of the stars. And written into every atom and every molecule of our bodies is the entire history of the universe, from the Big Bang to the present day.”
Phil coughs out something that resembles a laugh and says, “I had no idea you were such a space nerd, Howell. Quoting episode two of BBC Wonders of the Universe? Really?”
“Coming from the nerd who knew exactly what I was quoting - and which episode at that,” Dan replies. He finally manages to turn around, still in Phil’s arms, and he looks at him. “You’re a nerd,” he exhales, because he still feels a bit breathless and lightheaded but now he isn’t sure if it’s because of the drugs or if it’s because of Phil. Because when Dan turns to look at Phil, he sees galaxies and nebulas in his eyes and he feels a bit breathless for a moment. Because he thought the stars were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, but clearly he’s never really looked at Phil Lester’s eyes.
Phil smirks a little. He still hasn’t let go of Dan’s waist, still holds onto him nice and tight. “Takes one to know one,” he replies.
Dan huffs out a laugh. “That was terrible.”
“Your mum’s terrible,” Phil says.
“Jesus, what are you? Twelve?” Dan asks with an eyeroll.
Phil is still smirking. “Your mum’s twelve.”
Dan groans, and he makes a weak attempt to break free of Phil’s grasp, but Phil tugs him closer and now their chests are touching and Dan’s eyes widen. “What are you doing?” he asks softly.
“I -” Phil falters slightly. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I just know I don’t want to let you go yet.”
Dan’s heart is racing, and he feels so exhilarated, because he knows that no matter how hard he’s tried to suppress it, this is what he’s wanted all along. Everything feels so heightened right now - the way Phil’s pupils have dilated so much it’s like a black hole in the center of the universe, the minimal yet noticeable height difference between the two of them, the dryness in his throat because his lips have been parted just slightly ever since Phil had tugged him in close, the way Phil can’t stop staring at his lips. And Dan loves it, he loves the high of being in Phil’s arms, but at the same time he’s so fucking terrified because he’s never felt more vulnerable than he does in Phil’s arms.
He has to swallow once, twice, before he can speak and even when he does, his voice is barely above a whisper. “So don’t,” he finally manages to choke out. “Don’t let go.”
Phil doesn’t.
* * *
Dan doesn’t know what this is, what he and Phil are now, and what’s going on between them. He doesn’t know if they need any defining at all, if this is just going to be a one time thing, or if tonight is the start of something more permanent. All he knows is that he hadn’t truly lived until tonight, with Phil’s lips pressed against his own.
Phil’s hands are resting comfortably on his hips and their bodies are so unbelievably close to each other’s that Dan feels as though he and Phil are going to fuse together at this rate. And Phil’s lips are so, so soft, and Dan can’t stop himself from sighing into his mouth. He feels Phil squeeze his hips just slightly, his nails digging into Dan’s skin as gentle as can be and it makes Dan shiver. And then he blushes. He wishes he could gain some control over his body for the time being.
Dan feels dizzy and breathless when they actually stop kissing, and Phil presses his forehead to Dan’s. He shivers again, and Phil runs his hands slowly up and down his sides, as if he’s trying to warm him up. It’s such a sweet action that it almost makes Dan want to cry, and he’s slowly coming down from his high so he doesn’t know what he can blame it on now. The two of them just stand there for a moment, lips swollen, faces flushed, chests heaving as the two of them try to catch their breath.
“Wow,” is all Phil whispers, and Dan doesn’t know how to interpret what he means because right now he feels pretty wow himself. He nods in agreement, and Phil smiles a little and gives him a little peck on the lips, and Dan’s bones feel like they’ve turned to putty and he could just collapse into himself right now. Phil has that effect on him - always has, maybe he always will.
This is only their first kiss, yet this is feels like the moment in the movies where one of them blurts out “I love you” and the other smiles and says, “I’ve always loved you” - but this isn’t the movies, and Dan doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything. He adores this boy, but he doesn't know how to say the word ‘adore’, so it’s never going to come out of his mouth, and he’s never going to admit it to himself.