A/N: came up with this AU on the spot, thought it was a cute idea. here's an AU with NonYouTuber!Phan living in a neighborhood outside of New York City. Dan and Phil are neighbors with completely different lives. Enjoy!
Phil's POV
It wasn't uncommon for Dan Howell to be knocking on my door in the middle of the night. Probably back from a club or a bar in the city, or occasionally the dude would come over for no reason. More times than not, though, he had forgotten his keys at a one night stand's house, and needed to borrow the spare I saved for him. But sometimes it was because he just wanted to talk off his high or drunkeness, and I was an insomniac that could lend an ear. And then, finally, in the mornings, when we met at our mailboxes to collect the daily paper, he'd stand in his sweatpants and slippers and a black T-shirt he'd been wearing the night before and tell me he couldn't recall anything from the night before. Looking me dead in the eyes, Dan would. "Sorry Phil, here's the key back. Did I come over last night? Must've. I have a throbbing headache, which would explain it. Anyways, here's the key. I'll be home for lunch if you wanna come over for some," to which I would reply, "Yes, you did, but it's no big deal. Thanks for the key back. And sorry, I don't know if I'll be able to, but thanks for the offer."
Dan Howell worked as a disc jockey for some night clubs in the city, and I worked as a doctor at the hospital in the city. But of course, surrounded by the influence, he'd get fucked up. I don't blame him, albeit sometimes it scared me. The only neighbor I actually cared about... this late at night... he could be killed...
...but he typically stumbled down to my front porch and knocked. He was fine.
Tonight was one of those nights. Dan had gotten himself wasted, managed to get home in one piece, but forgot his keys at the club. I, fortunately, was already awake, being kept up by a song by Muse that I spent a while digging through my old record collection to finally find the goddamn song.
"Phiiillll..." I heard a whine from the other side of the door. I really wanted to open that door and sock him right in the nose, but instead I sighed, bracing myself, and opened it. There was Dan Howell, slumped against the doorway, half asleep, looking sick and tired. "I just... I just need the key... that's all... then I'll leave you alone..."
I laughed a little to myself, but remained in a concerned manner. "Dan, how much have you had to drink? You look wasted... look I'd give you the key but I don't even think you'd make it back to your house without passing out in my driveway..." I told him, hoisting the poor guy up. Damn, he gets heavy when he goes limp!
"It's alright Phil, I'll be fine, just give me the key, and then-" Dan was interrupted by a hiccup, then a burp, and finally a conclusion that he wasn't alright and that he needed the toilet straight away, looking green.
"Here, come use my bathroom, I'll go get you a washcloth..."
About ten minutes later, Dan had let all the drinks out of his system. I held the cool washcloth up to his forehead, letting him lean back in my arms, catch his breath.
We were on the floor of my tiny bathroom, with Dan between my legs and his head leaning against my chest, and my caring for him. "I'm sorry, Phil," Dan said quietly. I was unsure of how much to trust that had been coming out of his sloppy drunken mouth, but he sounded so sincere. I pulled him closer to me, hugging him tighter. "It's okay, Dan... I'm still not letting you back home, you'd never make it... you, you can stay over tonight, with me," I told him. Dan nodded and tried to get up, but he couldn't do it alone, so I helped him.
"How many times has it been that you've done this for me?" Dan asked as we walked over to my bedroom. I laughed, "Not enough."
Dan flopped down, exhausted, on the bed. On the outside I might've looked pissed, within reason, but on the inside I was beaming. I secretly loved taking care of Dan. He might be just a neighbor, but it never felt like a proper night without the man coming over to my door.
"Here's a blanket. Are you comfortable? I can turn the air down..." I said, half-talking to myself. Dan groggily shook his head. "No thank you Phil, I'm fine..." he said, trailing off. I shrugged, taking off my shirt and pants, then pulling Dan's trashed shirt up off over his head. I took off his shoes as well, no matter how much they smelled.
Then I found myself lying in bed. Finally. Sleep.
I turned out the light on my nightstand and rolled over to face Dan, who appeared to already be asleep. I listened as sirens wailed in the distance, and studied the patterns the moon traced over the bed and across Dan's flushed face. "Goodnight, Dan," I said silently, closing my eyes.
Lips pressed to my forehead. I opened my eyes. Dan.
"Goodnight, Philly," he mumbled.
* * *
"I made you coffee to repay you."
Dan?
I opened my eyes to see Dan standing with two steaming mugs of coffee at the foot of my bed.
Ah, yes. Dan. Last night. Drunk. Classic.
"Morning, Howell. How'd you know where I keep the coffee filters?"
"I guessed. I keep them in the same place in my pantry as well."
I smiled and patted the bed next to me. "Stay a while before you go home," I invited him.
Dan smiled back, and walked over to sit down (carefully, I noticed... my white sheets and I silently thanked him), and handed me my coffee, before taking a sip himself.
No one said anything for a while, but Dan finally spoke up. "You do this all the time for me, don't you, Phil?" Dan asked, looking up from his coffee mug and over at me. I nodded, then took a sip. "Yes, I do, but I don't mind."
"Why?"
Dan had never asked me why I did why I did. "I don't know, dude... it's just routine for me. I almost expect you over by now. And, like I said, I don't mind it at all. I... well, I enjoy taking care of you. And it probably sounds dumb, because we don't talk outside of these nightly visits, but I love having you to take care of."
Dan didn't say anything, but the beaming smile on his face said all. "You're crazy. I'd have expected you to just give up on me already. But you don't, and somehow I keep coming back to you, so I suppose it's all cool," he said.
Finally, he finished his coffee and I patted him on the shoulder. "Let's walk back to your house," I said.
I left Dan with a wave goodbye at his fence, watching him go in with my spare key safely, to make sure he got in alright. But he didn't leave before grabbing the paper.
I'm not sure why I waved goodbye. Sure, it wasn't a proper goodbye, more like a "see you later!". But I knew I would see him again... something told me I would.
