A Collection Of Phan One-shots (Boyxboy)

5 Hours

Summary: Phil left Dan in their apartment for five hours to wallow in his sickness. But when Phil came back, he began to wonder if it will take him the same amount of time to find him. Sick!Dan is sick.

Five hours.

Phil had left Dan to his own devices five hours ago because the older man made plans to go see a movie with a few friends.

Now, Dan would usually come with Phil for Phil's friends were his friends, too, but the brunet was too fucking ill to even walk two paces without projectile vomiting. That being said, Phil wasn't too happy when Dan sluggishly shuffled to the bathroom just after Phil told him he going to leave.

"I'll be fine, Phil," cough "just leave or you'll be late." sniff

Nope.

"Yeah, okay," Phil returned, voice laced with sarcasm. Dan was halfway through the door, one bare foot on the cold tiles on their bathroom floor. His head was turned to Phil as his bloodshot eyes narrowed to a glare. Though it was touching that his best friend cared for him so (what kind of best friend would he be if he weren't), he really just wanted Phil to leave. The last thing Dan wanted was to hog up Phil's time when he could be on his way to the cinemas.

"Honestly, Phil."

"You might get hurt! Or worse, pass out in the tub with your head under the water and drown and--"

Dan's heart did a little flip when he heard how genuinely worried Phil was. Not that he doubted him to begin with.

The younger male placed a warm hand on Phil's shoulder and patted softly and reassuringly. Phil halted his pessimistic rant and locked his eyes with Dan's.

"I'll be fine." Something about how firm Dan said it, how sure he was that everything's going to be okay, made some of the worry Phil had dissipate. Phil took one last long look at Dan's sick form before turning to leave.

Now, here he was. Five hours later.

"Five hours," Phil mumbled under his breath. Everything looked the same. The lights were turned on, the doors were left opened. It was as if Phil did not have a flatmate to tend to the apartment. But then again, Dan was sick... but still!

"Dan?" Phil called out, expecting at least a groan in response. Nothing.

Phil headed towards Dan's room which had the door left ajar. He pushed the creaking door a bit, peeked in and called Dan's name again. He frowned and panic started to bubble up in the pit of his stomach when he saw that the messy duvet was just as messy and the pillows were still near the headboard in no particular arrangement. The laptop screen showed black, silently telling Phil that its user had been gone for quite a while.

Phil pieced some things together in his mind, gears stirring as he used all of his brain juices. Only one answer was found.

Dan never left the bathroom.

Phil rolled his eyes at how 'Dan' this scenario was. Even when Dan wasn't sick, it was unlikely that he would leave the shower under an hour.

With his mind assured, Phil stepped over to the bathroom door and knocked. He listened for the sound of the shower or Dan but neither came. His eyebrows met in concerned confusion.

Phil knocked again, this time longer and less softly. "Dan?" he called like he did when he entered the apartment. Same tone, same emotion, same everything, but now more frantic.

No response.

Phil told himself to calm down. Dan wasn't in the bathroom (there was still a possibility, though, but Phil was too scared to actually go inside), the lounge, the kitchen, nor was he in his bedroom. Relax. Maybe he just missed him or something.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Phil forced himself to his bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. Maybe when he's comfortable, it will help his detective skills.

Phil pushed his door shut as he entered his room with his eyes closed. He gathered his thoughts and tried to relax, breathing in and out. Once he opened his eyes again, they went wide.

He emitted a soft 'aww~' at the sight before him.

There hobbit-hair Dan was, in a loose jumper (put on back-to-front) that he only wore when it was either too hot or he just didn't care for his appearance, snuggled up between two pillows and Phil's duvet was wrapped around his serene form. Not to mention, he had his face buried in Phil's green uni jumper.

It took all of Phil's strength not to squeal. So, he just jumped giddlily in place, lips stretched thin in a huge grin.

Phil savoured this scene for all it's worth until he remembered that this was the 21st century and he could actually keep this moment forever in a photograph. The black-haired male dug around his pockets for his iPhone. He held the object up and lined Dan perfectly in the centre. Once it looked okay, he snapped a picture.

It did not matter whether Dan was in the middle, or the exposure was bad because photoshop could easily fix that. What the picture needed to be perfect was Dan. And Dan was there. Therefore, the picture was already perfect.

At that moment, Dan shifted in his postition. His grip on the jumper tightened and he took an unconscious sniff.

Phil headed over and took off his shoes. He slipped under the green and blue covers and nuzzled his face against Dan's shoulder blade (since his neck was a no-no zone). Dan tensed up abruptly before slowly easing into the man's sudden presence.

"Welcome home," Dan whispered. Phil did not reply immediately as he let the words sink in.

Home. What 'home' was Dan talking about? Was it the physical home where they lived? Or was it home, the one where he was now. Beside Dan. Under the duvet. His face buried into Dan's shoulder blade as he breathed in Dan's sweet scent. Next to Dan.

With Dan.

That was home.

Phil smiled as he closed his eyes. "I'm glad to be back."

The End.