Chapter Text
“Make sure you tune in here, same time Wednesday, for more celebrity gossip, hot takes, and anything else you can get me rambling about. This is Daniel Howell, signing off.”
As soon as the ON AIR sign clicked off, Dan fell back in his chair with a deep sigh of relief. Finally, done for the day with work, and all he had left was to go home, pour a glass of wine, maybe even a nice bath, and just fucking relax. Yeah, his day had been destined to be shitty from the moment he opened his eyes two whole hours before his alarm. He’d been out of coffee in his apartment, so he’d hauled his ass out to the expensive little hipster shop near his place, waited in the unnecessarily long line, fought with the horrific state of the London Underground, and failed at avoiding the hallway small talk from his coworkers. A truly horrific existence, he knew. Dan wasn’t going to pretend that he wasn’t having the most first world problem type of issues, but it didn’t stop him from being pissy about it.
The icing on the whole cake had been when he got in, went to get settled, and found the entire schedule off by 15 minutes. That should have been a blessing, right? Wrong. Wrong because that meant he had to sit off next to the booth staring down at Phil fucking Lester as he finished talking through the Billboard top 50.
Objectively, Phil was fantastic for the type of radio he did. Announcing the chart toppers, giving interesting facts, telling fun little anecdotes to fill airtime, he did amazing work. He was cheery in a way most people in broadcasting weren’t, and that’s what gave him that blessed 2-hour slot 3 times a week, as well as a 4 hour one on the weekends. Was Dan jealous? Maybe a little bit. He had an hour every other day to catch people up on the gossip columns, then two different hourlong slots on Saturday mornings and nights himself, so he wasn’t doing too bad. That set up had its own drawback though.
Dan always went on after him, 2 of the 4 days that they were both on air during the week. So two days a week Dan had to deal with the first ten minutes of his show having all kinds of women from miles away still calling in to hear Phil respond in that deep, enticing radio voice of his, full of interest and warmth and humor, and, well, just everything Dan didn’t bring as much of to the table. God, it pissed him off for no reason.
It wasn’t even like Dan was mad at the callers, or the schedule, or even producers that put them in the same booth. No, it was just Phil. Phil and how smooth he could deal with any tech issue himself without having to signal the technicians. Phil and how he just had the perfect voice for radio that caught people’s attention and kept it rapt. Phil and how stupidly hot he looked all leant back in his chair, running his fingers through that stupidly hot blond hair, chewing on the arm of his stupidly hot clear glasses, looking right into him through the glass with those stupidly hot-
“And while we’re on the topic of this beautiful artist rising her way to the tops of the charts, I’m sure you’ll hear all about her recent engagement if you stick around after my show to listen in to Danny Boy. He’s got all the drama updates you’d ever want, and based on the glare I’m getting right now, I might have just spoiled his big talking point for the afternoon. Anyway, congratulations to this week’s chart topper.”
Yeah, it was just Phil that pissed him off.
When they’d met, it was easy. They’d see each other once or twice a week in the break room, share some pleasantries, and be off again. As they rose through the ranks, they’d just seen more of each other. That had led to them figuring out how polarized they both were to each other. Phil definitely kept up that sunshine attitude off air, but it had a certain twinge to it that made Dan think it was faked to some extent. Sure, the man was just like that, sweet and clumsy and always putting others ahead of himself. That wasn’t the Phil that Dan got though.
Admittedly, maybe it was mostly Dan’s fault that the older host was so prickly towards him. One too many bubbly conversation starters had been met with a sleep deprived “fuck off” and eventually it just turned into jabs both on and off air. At least on air they both kept it mostly civil. Any time they weren’t it was a toss up.
Even the regular listeners of the shows could tell there was tension between them. It had come up in memes, in speculation posts, in comment sections, even in other shows. Dan didn’t mind it, but he tried to push it down, avoiding things and changing topics whenever he could. Phil always leaned into the drama though, the lurker he was.
There had been one infamous instance where someone had asked him during a talk segment about how Dan was, and Phil replied in a moment that had been clipped on every social media imaginable,” he’s doing good! Rough around the edges like normal, but that big softie is actually curled up half asleep in the booth right now. Really fierce looking little creature in the corner with me, maybe I should call animal control before he starts hissing at me.”
It had been cold out, and he’d had to be there early for a meeting, so sue him that he’d been waiting for Phil to finish his segment while wrapped up in his blanket he kept at the station. Most of the jabs like that weren’t even mean, just called Dan out in a way that rubbed him wrong. Maybe that’s why he always got so annoyed, it wasn’t like he had a real reason to be upset.
Or maybe he did, because as time went on, it felt like Phil was singling him out more on purpose. A colder jab every now and then, staring him down in the halls quite pointedly, all of it just had boiled down to the two of them just simply not liking each other. It made him feel worse when he’d complain about Phil to a coworker and get met with “what? That doesn’t sound like Phil at all!”
So, it was just him. For some reason, he couldn’t tell if that made it better or worse. Sure, Dan wouldn’t always get along with everyone, but to be the personal exception to the BBC sunshine seemed like a bigger insult. He didn’t want to hate the guy. Fuck, he didn’t want Phil to hate him either. There was a strange pull that always ended them up in the same spaces, and it was so much easier to just rile each other up than it was to actually acknowledge that feeling.
That was the only thing left on Dan’s mind as the little transition jingle filled the booth. He looked up in time to see Phil stand up, stretching out with a huff as soon as his mic was off. It really didn’t help him that Phil was very unintentionally hot. Only that man could pull off blue joggers with a bright green sweatshirt and what looked like some kind of wild printed t-shirt underneath, if the little bit that peeked through when he stretched was a good indicator. He made all of it look so easy, like it was a job that he could just roll out of bed and do. Hell, maybe he could.
Dan ran a hand over his face again, thankful that it wasn’t a day he’d be on camera. He was much too conscious of how he looked to show up like that for a show. He much preferred his fancy jumpers and blouses that probably cost close to an entire college apartment’s rent payment, thank you very much. The fashion couldn’t save him from the arctic temperatures the techs kept the booth at though. Even in one of his thickest jackets, he was still cold from the chill outside. Pulling it tighter around him, he scratched over his neck to distract himself.
It had been a long night, it was beyond freezing outside, it was an unplanned change in his schedule, things just kept piling on and on and on. With a deep breath, Dan pulled his knees to his chest and pulled up his notes for the show on his tablet. The document already burned his eyes even at a low brightness, and he knew then that this show was going to suck.
He got caught up enough in his review that he didn’t hear the door open, or the producer start talking to the room. Suddenly there was a looming shadow over him that startled him into dropping his tablet to the desk, just barely saved from a dive to the floor. The quickly hidden laugh told him exactly who it was. “Philip, what the fuck?”
“Well, aren’t you just a little ray of London sunshine today.”
“Shut up,” Dan rubbed his eyes again, turning back to face the culprit. He didn’t like the weird look of appraisal Phil gave him before the older took in a long whistle.
“Oh, Howell. You look like you had the wrong kind of bear in your bed last night.”
“Wow, thanks, you really know how to make a guy feel special.” Dan winced as he said it, the words having a little too much bite behind them to be considered their usual tense banter.
Phil’s smirk twitched a bit as he did. “Just saying, you look like me, and coming from me, that’s not a compliment.”
“What?”
Before Dan could even register it, he had Phil’s hand patting his cheek. “Pale, sickly, like you feel like shit and you’re trying to pretend you’re fine.”
Damn him for being so perceptive. With a quick move Dan ducked away, occupying himself by getting out his headset. “Just couldn’t sleep well, I’m fine.”
“If you say so,” the rustling behind him indicated that Phil was picking up his backpack and his various things he’d had out during his show. He was chuckling the whole time, waiting for something. “Hey, Danny, before I leave, I’ve got something for you.”
Dan flushed a little as he set the cords he was holding down. What could Phil possibly have for him? As he turned around, he saw the man leaning in the doorframe with that stupid smirk of his. “There you go, there’s some color back in your face. ‘Makes you look less dead to the world.” He laughed as he turned and walked out, letting the studio door click shut behind him, leaving Dan to splutter and blush even harder at getting called out.
Fuck, he hated that bastard.