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i.
The first time Dan says it, he’s drunk. They both are.
It was Dan’s third time visiting Phil in Manchester and Phil asked wringing his hands together if he would like to get introduced to his school mates.(“You don’t have to if you dont want to–” “I want to. I really do.”)
Everyone had loved Dan, just like Phil knew they would. There was never a dull moment, never a silent second with Dan. Laughter and joy followed everywhere he went and Phil is so so grateful to call this boy his.
He gets drunk off beer and Dan’s laugh, his dimples, the way his eyes sparkle when he looks at Phil. He knows he’s only 22 but he can’t help but think he’ll never be happier than he is right now, surrounded by all the people he loves.
Dan is considerably more drunk than him, swaying where he stands, talking to one of Phil’s friends, hands flapping around animatedly and Phil makes his way to him like a magnet, floating through the crowd.
Dan’s eyes snap to his before he has made more than two steps towards him and it’s like he could sense Phil coming. It’s hard to not mirror the grin that spreads along his face– hard to not want to press his fingers into Dan’s dimples and let it stay there for the rest of time. Forever.
Dan’s already walking towards him, wobbling a bit and catching himself with a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Ready to go?” He slurs, like he can read Phil’s mind (which, Phil is pretty sure he can) and Phil nods.
They stumble home, stumble into Phil’s room together, taking turns giggling and shushing each other in an attempt to not wake Phil’s family up.
They fall on Phil’s bed, limbs tangled and lips pressed into each other’s skin. Whispering nonsense. They’re both too tired to do anything more, but Phil is content here in his bed, with the boy he is so in love with breathing slow against him, drawing patterns against his waist, laughing into his hair.
He smells like honey and tastes like beer and Phil thinks he’s the sweetest thing ever.
He’s just about to fall asleep when he hears it. Dan, sighs softly, so softly that Phil for a second thinks he’s imagined it all. And then he says “I love you so much it hurts.”
Phil is about to ask what he means, because it sure doesnt sound like a good thing, when he hears soft snoring. So he thinks I’ll ask him tomorrow. I’ll fix this tomorrow.
But Dan wakes Phil up by petting his hair and kissing his eyes and Phil cannot be held responsible for forgetting what he was supposed to fix all together.
ii.
The second time, Phil is pretty sure it wasn't for him to hear.
Long distance sucks but they’ll get through it. Phil knows this like it’s a fact. As simple as that. He so firmly believes in this fact that half of the time it doesn’t faze him, being away from his Dan.
He is so filled with happiness when he meets Dan that it overflows him, keeping him satisfied for days until he gets to see him again, touch him again.
Would he prefer to be with Dan all the time with no screens or distance to seperate them? Of course.
But this is enough for now. Even a drop of Dan is enough, always is.
Dan doesn't reciprocate the sentiment though, always yearning for Phil and says it's not enough.
He says his absence is something physical, solid and painful and Phil loves him and misses him and wishes he could do something to take the pain away. Dan never deserves anything other than happiness and comfort.
So they’re always texting, always on skype, from the moment he wakes up and Phil could not be happier (well, unless Dan was with him, here, solid and real.) But he still is happy, he knows Dan is his and that’s all he needs.
They fill each other up throughout the day, little mundane things, like how Phil’s lost his favourite sock (“sock? As in singular? You’re such a weirdo Phil Lester”) and how Dan’s annoyed about the humid air outside, not letting his straightened hair stay intact (“But I love your curls! They suit you so well" "You’re literally the only one who thinks so Phil”).
Dan is right there as Phil falls asleep too, they don’t even talk most of the time, but hearing Dan’s soft breathing through the phone almost makes him believe that he’s right here for a second, that phil could reach out in the dark and find himself holding his boy, all dimples and curls.
That’s how he finds himself one night, slipping in and out of sleep, Dan’s words jumbling together not making sense, but he still finds himself humming into the phone that's pressed in between his ears and his pillow. He’s faintly aware of the drool that's pooling itself on his sheets but he’s too far gone to care.
He stops responding then, so in dream land but still hears Dan’s voice there somewhere and he has half a mind to follow it, trying to figure out what it’s saying.
“Phil.” Dan whispers, and how Phil loves it when Dan says his name. He never thought it was anything special, was even about to change it before he heard how good it sounds when Dan says it.
Like the sole purpose of Phil’s name is for it to be uttered by Dan.
And Phil’s so out of it, so mesmerized by the way it sounds on Dan’s tongue that he doesn't respond.
“Phil, did you fall asleep?”
Phil is sure he did, his eyes feel like they're glued shut and there’s a weight on his tongue not letting him speak, and he is fully about to chase into that feeling and black out when Dan whispers, sounds as sleepily as Phil feels, “I love you so much it hurts.”
Phil frowns and thinks that’s not good. He thinks I love you but it shouldn't hurt. And then he doesn’t think at all and falls asleep to Dan’s breathing.
iii.
The third time it’s their four year anniversary and they’ve not gotten a second to themselves, not a second of privacy.
They've got too much shit to do, with the radio show, countless interviews and events, that Phil just floats through it like a ghost, barely remembering anything, too tired out of his mind to even pretend to make small talk, letting Dan take the reins.
There’s a moment there, when Phil is exhausted and all he wants to do is be home. Home, which is not a place but a feeling. A feeling he only gets to experience when he’s with his boy, with his Dan.
His Dan who is standing a full foot away from him, pointedly not making eye contact with Phil and Phil knows he shouldn’t.
Yet he reaches out, pinky finger slightly grazing Dan’s only for Dan to flinch like he’s been punched. That’s all it takes for Phil to retreat. And retreat he does, for the rest of the night.
The ride home is quiet and tiring. Phil makes a very conscious effort to not look at Dan, but it’s nearly impossible when his eyes move of their own accord like magnets snapping to Dan’s face, whenever he zones out.
Everytime he finds himself staring he finds Dan staring right back and a small treacherous voice in the back of his head says why couldn't you do this in front of others? Why does it have to be this way? But he quickly shuts down those thoughts because he knows why.
Phil also knows that it’s not fair, he knows it well. Because really, it’s no one’s fault, not his and especially not Dan’s. But he is still slightly annoyed, can’t help it. Annoyed, but not at Dan, never at Dan, at the universe.
He sits on their couch pouting, arms crossed mourning the day that could have been when suddenly, a tray containing pizza and coke is plopped on his lap. And just as suddenly, Dan’s plopped right next to him, his knee and shoulder pressing against Phil’s, nudging Phil slightly, “Eat” he orders.
Phil is hungry, he wants to but all his mind is capable of doing right now is relishing on how right it feels to feel Dan’s body slot right against his. Relishing on how easy this is. He wants to cry and laugh but all he does is turn his head away, “I’m not hungry” He says and Dan looks at him like he knows he’s lying (which he does).
He turns a bit towards Phil, so that now his knees are bumping into Phil’s thighs, jabbing him slightly there, but it’s okay. It’s okay because all Phil wants to feel now is Dan, even if he’s mad at him, even if he can’t look at him.
Dan takes the pizza slice in his hand and brings it near Phil’s mouth. “I’m sorry,” He says softly, and when Phil finally turns to look at Dan, he knows. He knows that he really is sorry and all of a sudden Phil feels stupid.
He leans forward taking a small bite from the slice and watches Dan’s lips part in a silent exhale, shoulders drooping like he’s relieved and Phil loves him.
“I love you.” He says mouth full of pizza mid chew, because it’s important that Dan knows.
Even when he’s annoyed and mad and tired and exhausted, he loves Dan. It’s a fact and it’s as simple as that and Dan must know.
As soon as the words leave his mouth Dan’s sobbing, head bowed and shoulders hunched, shaking with how hard he’s crying, hands still holding on to the pizza.
Phil’s heart seizes up and all he wants right now is to hold Dan, (and he can, because it doesn't matter if no one else knows. Doesn't make a difference at all. Dan is his boy. It’s a fact as simple as that) so he does.
He gently removes the pizza from Dan’s hand and places it along with the tray on their table and scoops Dan up into his arms, and Dan doesn’t push him away– no, the opposite really. He melts like putty against Phil’s chest and all of a sudden everything is right.
Phil thinks he could go through lifetimes of Dan ignoring him if it meant he could hold him like this at least for a millisecond.
“I’m sorry” he mouths into Dan’s hair, and he really is. The only thing he hates more than seeing Dan cry is seeing Dan cry because of him so he says it now, softly as to not move Dan from where he rests against Phil’s chest, “I’m sorry”.
But Dan’s pulling himself away from Phil’s hold and before Phil could feel the coldness of his absence, Dan is climbing on top of Phil, straddling him on their couch, pressing his mouth against his, and Phil goes limp.
It’s been so long, too long since Phil’s felt Dan against him, rutting and shivering. And Phil almost forgot how good it feels, almost. Could never actually forget because it’s all his brain plays on repeat till he gets to do this again. Hold his Dan again. Feel his Dan again.
So he lets himself get lost in it, lets himself touch and kiss any skin that he can reach, and Dan is so solid above him, so real that it’s all Phil can focus on.
He lets Dan take over everything else and makes it his sole mission to memorise this, so he can play it over and over again until next time.
He makes it his mission to study Dan.
Dan’s lips, which are now red and swollen. Dan’s cheek bones, which have streaks of pink blooming all the way down his chest and when did Dan take his shirt off? Dan’s hair, which is now curled with sweat and stuck to his forehead, and Phil has half a mind to brush it off his eyes. Dan’s eyes, which are now wide and glassy and pupils blown out looking at Phil like he can’t believe he’s real.
Dan’s fingers, which are long practiced and stretching Phil open and– oh. Phil hadn't even noticed that he’s naked. When did that happen?
Before he knows it, Phil is on his back, arching and sighing. Hands finding any part of Dan that he could reach, his hair, his neck, his chest, his back, his wrist. And before he knows it he’s begging, not sure what for, words tumbling out without his permission.
“Please. Please–”
But Dan knows. Even when Phil doesn't, Dan knows. So he sinks into Phil, fast and hard and Phil thinks this is how people go insane.
They're both shaking and Phil wants this to last, forever if it’s possible.
So he squeezes his eyes shut, holds Dan’s face between his palms– half mindedly wipes at the dampness there and says “Slow. Please.” And Dan’s nodding furiously, because he gets it. He always gets it.
With a stutter of his hips, Dan slows down, and this is worse. So much worse somehow, because he feels every single inch now. Feels it everywhere.
He throws his head back and whines, loudly. Doesn’t care if the neighbors can hear. Apparently Dan doesn't either, because he doesn't shush Phil, doesn't clamp a palm against his mouth, doesn't even kiss him to swallow his moans.
No, instead, he does something wonderful. Something he hasn't ever done before.
He spreads Phil’s legs wider, thrusts incredibly deeper and says with a grunt “Yeah bub. Let me hear you.”
Phil doesn't have to be told twice. He’s thrashing around, hands twisting around the armrest above his head, making obscene sounds. He doesnt control himself, doesnt even try.
Soon, Dan is close, Phil can tell. Because he’s muttering nonsense, breathing words into Phil’s throat, his shoulder, his chest. Phil is close too, so close he thinks he might faint.
“Dan” He sobs, “Dan.”
And Dan promptly shifts his angle, hitting Phil’s prostate with precision, because it doesn't matter if it’s been too long, not really, because Dan remembers too. Studies Phil like Phil studies him. He memorises and he remembers.
He drills into him over and over again that Phil doesn't even have the energy to scream. All he can do is shake and cry wordlessly as he comes.
When he comes back to it, Dan’s still thrusting into him, chasing his own release, kissing Phil’s tears away, whispering “I love you”s over and over again and Phil would say it back if he didnt feel so fucked out of his mind. But Dan knows. He has to know.
So he pulls Dan’s face into the crook of his neck, and hopes it’s enough.
And Dan’s speeding up, losing control and Phil moans, spent and sensitive, but Dan’s still going at it, relentless. He speaks firmer now, into Phil’s skin, babbling choruses of
“Phil.”
“I love you.”
“I love you so much.”
“You have to know”
And Phil nods. He knows. He knows.
“I love you so much it’s all I can think about.”
“I love you so much it hurts.”
And then he’s spilling inside Phil and all Phil can do is hold him close. Incredibly close.
He wants to ask Dan something. He doesn't remember what it is as he falls asleep.
The last thing he does remember is Dan’s lips against his forehead and it’s enough. It’s really enough.
iv.
By the fourth time Dan says it, Phil has forgotten about it entirely. In fact, the only thing Phil can truly remember is how much he misses Dan.
It’s been two weeks since Dan went away. Which is, in his opinion, two weeks too long.
Phil thinks back to his younger days, when they were still long distance and Phil thought that this was enough. Dan, through screens and phone calls were enough.
He can’t even laugh because the situation is so devoid of humor. He was so naive and stupid.
He doesn’t know if he’s being dramatic, but he feels like this is a personal punishment from the universe itself.
No Phil should ever be allowed to be away from his Dan for this long. It’s torture, he really thinks it is. And he tells Dan just that.
“You are,” Dan says, voice sleep heavy.
“What?” Phil asks, trying to imagine how Dan would look right now. Snuggled in his bed in his childhood room, eyelids closed, trying not to fall asleep just because he wants to hear Phil’s voice some more.
“Dramatic.” Dan responds, half of the word getting muffled by a yawn.
“The universe isn't punishing you, you twat. You’re punishing yourself.” He says, and his voice is kind of breaking under the noise of shuffling on the other end, probably caused by Dan twisting around in his bed, trying to find a comfortable position.
“You could’ve just come with me, you know?” He says and Phil shrugs and purses his lips together, kind of annoyed by all the noise. It kind of ruins the illusion that Dan is right next to him and not miles away.
“Don’t shrug Phil, I can’t see you. I’m not there.” Phil tries to shuffle past the reminder by throwing his arm over his eyes, laying on his back. “But you knew anyway.”
Dan just hums. It’s quiet for a whole minute and Phil’s convinced himself that Dan has fallen asleep and he starts missing him all over again when Dan shuffles again, “Feels weird sleeping without you.”
Hearing Dan say that makes Phil think he should've just gone with him in the first place. Because it does. It feels weird. More than weird– it feels totally and impossibly wrong.
But here’s the thing. Phil can’t handle it for the life of him, lying to people about their relationship. It’s bad having to do it in front of their friends and viewers and just the general public.
But it’s worse doing it to Dan’s family. Phil feels so paranoid and in his own head that he may say something wrong, look at Dan wrong (but it isn't wrong. It’s right. Nothing has ever felt so right.) that it holds him back.
He can’t risk it. Can’t risk pushing Dan out of the closet before he’s ready, just because he can’t control his stupid eyes or his stupid mouth and hands from loving Dan.
The thought of hurting Dan that way scares him. Ruins him. So he stays here. It’s only two weeks.
He sighs, blinking tears away, and asks “Guess what I’m wearing right now?” half expecting Dan to make a joke out of it.
But Dan just asks, soft as ever “what?” and this time Phil doesn't even try to control the tears, lets it roll down his face, soak the sleeve that’s still covering his face and says “Your hoodie.”
Dan hums and Phil can almost make himself believe that he feels it from Dan's chest and not the phone. “I like it when you wear black” he says and Phil sniffles. If Dan hears this he doesn't mention it.
“I love you so much it hurts.” Dan says just as soft and just as fond and Phil absolutely hates it. Despises it when Dan says that.
It’s not supposed to. He thinks. I’m not supposed to hurt you. Our love is not supposed to hurt you.
He wishes he could say it, but he’s choked up, a ball in his throat. He knows he’d cry if he opens his mouth. So he doesn't say anything, lets the tears spill, hot and heavy against his skin.
After a while of silence, he gathers up enough of his voice to squeak out “I don't want you to hurt.”
Dan sounds confused for a second, forgetting what they were even talking about. “Hmm? Oh.” He yawns, “No bub, it’s a good hurt.”
And Phil doesn't get it. At all. But he doesn't even care, all he wants is his boy in his arms, in their home.
“Dan?” he whispers, just to make sure he’s awake. “Hmm?” Dan hums, close to falling asleep.
“Let’s never do this again,” Phil says. Pleads. “Be this further apart.”
Dan laughs wetly at that and Phil’s need to have Dan in his arms increases tenfold. “Yeah I think the universe would rip in half.”
V.
Their forever home. Phil never thought the day would come. Despite knowing, with absolute certainty that Dan and Phil would always stay together, no matter what, would always love each other, he wasn't that sure about this.
Wasn't sure about a home. About a physical proof of their love. Proof that yes, this is real. Yes it’s forever. Yes, they were into this together and always would be. It brought him so much joy, that he was drunk off it.
He couldn't stop smiling. Throughout packing, throughout the move, throughout moving in.
He was tired. Exhausted even, but it was worth it. It was worth it because every time he turned to look at Dan, Dan was looking right back, smiling right back at him.
After all these years Phil still can’t stop mirroring Dan’s grin. Can’t stop wanting to poke his finger into Dan’s dimples and keep it there forever. And he can. Forever. In their home.
The full extent of his joy doesn't hit him, until one morning he wakes up, earlier than he’s ever woken up and turns to find his boy beside him, laying stomach down, face pressed on Phil’s pillow even though he has his own, drool pooling on it that it hits him. Hits Phil with so much force that he doesn't know what to do with himself.
He looks at Dan, his Dan. His boy. He looks at his back, scattered with moles, freckles just starting to come reveal itself.
Curls flopping over his eyes, that Phil pushes away, to reveal his long thick eyelashes. His eyes trace the long slenderness of his nose, soft pink lips, slightly chapped in the corners.
He pokes his finger against Dan’s dimple and drags it down to his chin and kisses him there softly.
It’s routine, Phil has done this countless times, marveling at Dan’s beauty, drinking it up whenever he has the chance.
But this feels different somehow.
It feels like he’s dizzy with the sheer amount of emotion he’s feeling, he wants to open up Dan’s ribcage and crawl inside him, make a home for himself there.
His thoughts are loud and busy in his brain, and must have been too loud then. Because Dan jostles and wakes up, smiling already before opening his eyes.
“Quit staring you creep.” He says, but he doesnt sound like he wants Phil to quit. Not even a little.
But then Dan opens his eyes formed like two moon crescents with how hard he’s smiling and Phil feels like he’s been punched in the chest. And suddenly, finally, he understands. He understands what Dan had been saying all these years.
He loves him, he loves him so much it hurts. It’s a fact and it’s as simple as that. It’s not a new feeling. Not new at all. In fact, phil cant remember a single moment in his life when he hasnt felt this way about Dan. But he gets it now.
It hurts and it feels so lovely. To love him so much to the point of it hurting and consuming him whole.
He finds that Dan’s still looking at him like that so he kisses him. Soft and slow and deep and hungry because he is allowed. That’s his boy and he is allowed.
“What’s that for?” Dan asks when they pull away, and Phil shrugs.
But Dan pulls Phil in his arms and lays his head on Phil’s chest softly kissing it and Phil thinks, he must know. Because he’s Dan. He must know.
He does.