Work Text:
Dan feels like he’s done this same thing one hundred times already.
Maybe because he probably has.
He’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, editing a video and somehow paying almost no attention to it at all.
Warm light spills through his window and pools on his floor and he can hear Phil faintly from the other room, probably doing the same thing he is, accompanied by a sort of rhythmic mumbling.
He’s still not quite sure how just somebody’s presence could be as comforting as Phil’s is.
The words on his screen blur together. He’s tired. But then again, he’s tired all the time.
He can’t concentrate on this.
He shifts over and lets his laptop slip off of his legs before he slowly stands up. His bare feet are quiet against the carpeted floor and he wonders if Phil can hear him before he’s in the hall and gently knocking on his bedroom door. He walks in before Phil can say anything and collapses ineptly onto Phil’s bed with a soft thwump, his head landing by Phil’s waist.
Phil says nothing, eyes still fixated on whatever internet-y thing he’s doing on his computer, but one of his hands reaches down and brushes against Dan’s face. He carefully runs his fingers through Dan’s hair until he looks up.
“Having walls between us is stupid,” Dan grumbles, “Whatareyoudoing?”
Phil grins and tilts his laptop towards Dan, “Utterly nothing.”
Dan pokes him in the rib. He probably should have guessed Phil was on tumblr, considering his chronic doomscrolling habits. Dan was almost proud of himself for having been doing something productive before he’d abandoned it just to be slightly closer to Phil.
“D’you want to bring your laptop in here?” Phil asks him.
Sometimes being with Phil feels like they’re having two conversations at once. One out loud and one through some form of telepathy. It definitely feels more lovable than weird, at times like these. More like being known than having your mind read.
Dan looks up at him, “ugh.”
Phil blinks and raises his eyebrows.
“Would that mean I actually have to do work?” Dan buries his head in Phil’s duvet in a show of extreme pain and suffering that is only slightly genuine.
Phil snorts and tilts Dan’s head upwards again, shutting his laptop with his other hand and placing it on his bedside table.
He takes Dan’s face into his hands, who’s grinning now in a way that’s so endearing, Phil doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. His dimples are prominent, small dips in Dan’s cheeks that might just make Phil lose his mind if he stares at them long enough.
He’s torn between wanting Dan’s smile all to himself, the sound of his laugh to be intertwined with everything he ever hears and the sight of Dan genuinely, truly happy to exist and linger every time he closes his eyes, and wanting the entire world to see this boy smile.
Dan shuts his eyes contentedly, only for a few seconds before reopening them, his entire face scrunched, vision trained on Phil.
Phil’s fingers rest against Dan’s jaw, gently running his thumb against his cheek, letting it fall into his dimple, watching as the crinkles around his eyes disappear and the dips in his face smooth until he’s looking at Phil like he’s given him the galaxy.
Phil turns so that he’s lying on his side and brushes his lips against Dan’s, and Dan closes his eyes and keeps them closed as he tucks up against Phil’s side, letting arms wrap around him and a sort of contentedness that he hasn’t felt in a while nestle beside him. Phil’s hands are in his hair and he feels a tug in his gut that he didn’t finish editing his video. But then Phil is kissing his forehead and it doesn’t even matter anymore because this, he’s sure, is the best feeling in the world.