Work Text:
Dan is awoken by a softly mumbled "Shit."
The room is still dark, cocooned in his blankets, warm and comfortable, but the other side of the bed is empty.
His hand creeps across the sheet, just to make sure, and he finds it still body-warmed, it can only have been vacated about ten minutes before.
There's rustling in the room. The susurrant swish of clothing being pulled on, the familiar click of the wardrobe door opening. Dan can smell the scent of Phil's body wash in the air, a spritz of his deodorant and cologne, which means he's already showered.
He's trying to be quiet, is the thing. His movements are slow, feet as light as he can make them, but Dan is awake anyway, despite his best efforts.
He smiles into his pillow, listening as Phil makes his way around the room, gathering his things. He hears the moment Phil fetches a pair of shoes that aren't any of the trainers he's left by the front door, next to their couch. Phil has a habit of leaving a trail in his wake and Dan has no doubt that were he to turn the light on now and survey the room he would find a pattern of evidence that tells him exactly where Phil has been.
Dan doesn't sit up though, just cuddles down in his blankets and listens to the benign sounds of his partner's existing, familiar cozy sounds. He has one of those moments, one of those stop-and-smell-the-roses moments, and thinks about a younger him who dreamed of something as simple and domestic as this and thought he'd never have it.
But here he is. And there Phil is.
Phil seems to be ready now, or at least as ready as he can be before chasing down the rest of his belongings that are no doubt scattered throughout the house. Dan is pretty sure his wallet is on the kitchen counter and his keys in the bowl in the hall - because Dan had fished them out from between the couch cushions and put them there.
He leaves the room, and Dan settles back down. It's early, and Phil drew the short straw of having to do an actual meeting with an actual person at 10am and having to get all the way there on the Tube. Dan is quite thankful he continues to get a lie-in, his own mad rush of meetings and stressful business dealings behind him at least for a little while.
He'll get a debrief from Phil when he's back, be the rock that Phil had been for him, but for now, sleep.
Crash
Something falls in the next room, another "Fuck!" sounding, this one louder, and then Phil's footsteps are rushing back to the bedroom.
"Oh," he says when he arrives, "Did I wake you? Sorry."
Dan rolls over and reaches to tug at Phil's wrist. He isn't expecting it and so he topples easily, coming down onto the bed over the duvet with a bounce. Dan throws an arm and a leg over him, caging him in, trapping him against Dan's body buried in their bedclothes, and pushes his face to Phil's bicep.
"I was awake," he says, muffled by Phil's nice shirt.
"Oh, good," Phil replies. He puts a hand in Dan's hair and strokes. "You know, I have to go in like, five minutes."
Dan shakes his head, forehead stroking against Phil's clothes. He might wrinkle them, but no worse than they'll already get with Phil's general way of being.
"No?" Phil asks, chuckling.
"No," Dan says. "Stay. It's too early."
"Wish I could." Phil drops a kiss down into Dan's hair and Dan lifts his face until he gets one on the mouth too. Phil tastes like toothpaste, he is certain that Dan does not.
"Five minutes?" Dan asks. He knows he sounds whiney, but Phil is used to him. In fact, what he gets in response is a fond smile and Phil turning over slightly to get more comfortable. He keeps his shoes off the bed though - he knows what happens if he doesn't.
"I'll be late," Phil says, without any sign that he isn't giving Dan what he asked for anyway.
Dan hums, closing his eyes against Phil's warmth and breathing him in.
"You're going to do great today."
Phil kisses him again in lieu of an answer and Dan knows it's because he's nervous. He hugs him a little tighter, almost too tight, the air hissing out of Phil's lungs with a gasp.
"Don't crush me," Phil says, high-pitched.
"Crush you if I like," Dan says.
They aren't really making much sense, but all it means is I'm here, you're loved, everything is going to be okay.
"Lunch when I get back?" Phil says.
"Order in? Or are you going to carry something across half of London?"
"Order," Phil decides. "You can get your gross salad."
Dan knows which one he means.
"But you can't steal my chips."
Dan grins up at him. "Sure, buddy."
"Dan!" Phil squeaks, knowing that any protest he puts up is a token, he'll still roll his eyes and let Dan steal his food while he eats a salad and pretends he doesn't want the burger in Phil's hand. It's routine at this point.
Dan leans over to look at the clock on their nightstand. The room is till dark because of teh blackout curtains but he knows there is daylight outside now, a whole day blooming before them, and Phil has things to do. Places to be.
"Don't you need to go, now?"
Phil nods, reluctantly, and Dan heaves himself away from Phil's warmth. His shirt is only a little bit wrinkled in his wake.
"Tell me everything when you get back," Dan says, even though there is no need, even though there has not been a day since they met each other that they haven't told each other everything. That's just how it goes, they are a package deal even when they're doing their own thing. Managing crises, problem solving, being a constant witness to the other's life, someone who can say I was here, I saw you, I shared it with you.
Phil leaves the bed, a patch of his body heat back on the sheets which Dan rolls over into. He's not getting up yet, but he doesn't think he'll sleep again. He'll scroll his phone for a while, catch himself too far down his Twitter timeline before getting up to shower. He'll dress in something comfortable, makes a sweep around of the house of picking up the few things Phil has displaced, return whatever crashed over to its rightful position, answer some emails, and then Phil will be back, and they can eat lunch on the blue couch that their fans cannot agree an opinion on but which they love, and watch something together.
Phil leans down for one last kiss, smudging a hand through Dan's hair as he does just to watch the curls spring up fluffy and out of place. He grins, Dan shakes his head fondly, and then Phil is gone.
He listens to the sounds of him going, his footsteps in the hall, a tiny "a ha!" as he finds his keys in the bowl, and the too-hard slamming of the door that Dan keeps telling him not to do. If he wanted, Dan could pull up the Ring doorbell feed and watch him for a little bit longer, but it's been years since Dan felt the need to squeeze every last sight of Phil, to hold him close because he's scared it's all going to go away. It isn't, this is his life; sleepy mornings and takeaway food and Phil being unable to stay quiet even when he tries his hardest.
Dan loves every single second.