A/N: ok ok ok ok ok here's a story
Present day, Dan POV, Dan and Phil are on tour, but are finding themselves sleeping in the most uncomfortable places on the road. Kinda angsty, Dan gets a lil pissed. tw: swears (but that's in like every story i have on here), lowkey suicide mention // words: 1002
enjoy!
* * * * *
Don't get me wrong, Phil and I both love our fans, but finding myself brushing my teeth with a water bottle and a travel size of toothpaste was not how I expected our tour to be going.
"How much longer?" I whined, flopping my head down on Phil's shoulder. He glanced down at me, and for the first couple times before, the response had been a genuine chuckle and smile, but this time he just mumbled and looked back at his computer. The tension in the air was palpable, you could drink it up with a straw. I wanted to throw myself out the car door, but instead checked my phone: 21:57.
"I'm sorry for complaining, Phil," pressing a kiss to his temple, "but when I found out we'd actually be going on tour, I thought the touring would be a little more glamourous."
Phil gave a dry laugh.
"Or, at the very least, comfortable. This has been anything but."
"Just a couple more minutes, Dan, and then we'll be able to get ready to sleep."
* * *
It was longer than a couple more minutes; I woke up from an hour long sleep, groggy, and laying across the backseat. There was Phil, in the row of seats in front of me, pulling off that day's t-shirt. "Phil?" I asked, my voice hoarse. Phil turned around, exposing his pale torso in the dim light. "Oh, hey, you're awake... we're staying over in the van tonight, as if that wasn't already obvious enough. I checked my phone, too, and there's a small cafe down the road from here that we can grab a bite to eat from before we go to sleep. How's that for an evening?" Phil finished.
I sat up, wiping sleep from my eyes, and naturally, checked my phone: 23:46.
"Evening? Phil it's quarter to midnight! Where even are we?"
"I'm not quite sure where we are. But hey, evening... I can dream, can't I? I've had a long day."
"Yeah I've had a long day too... we shared it, don't you remember? I was fucking there."
I didn't know why I was getting so damn worked up over all this. Here I was, cursing at my best friend.
Phil just laughed it off: "I know you well enough to brush that off and not take it too personally... but c'mon, put on something comfy and come outside when you're ready... I wanna go eat." Then he left, hopping out the van door and sitting on the curb outside to check his phone.
* * *
"What can I get you boys this evening?" the waitress asked, setting down menus. Phil sat across from me, tucking his phone in his pocket. "Oh! I'll, um, I'll just have a coffee please, decaf... and some pancakes, if you have any? Thanks." Phil looked up at me, waiting for me to order.
I cleared my throat: "Yes, I'd like some tea, please, and just some buttered toast, thank you."
The waitress left, and finally Phil and I were alone again.
Silence.
Phil coughed.
"I don't remember you being a coffee drinker," I whispered to Phil, fiddling with the sugar packets so I wouldn't have to make eye contact with him. "Yeah well sometimes things change."
His voice sounded like ice, and it made me shiver.
"Here you go, one coffee and one tea."
We thanked the waitress. Phil resorted to watching the cars pass out the door by on the road behind me.
"So, Phil, what else has changed?" I asked, pouring a sugar packet into my tea. Phil shrugged. "Nothing, just my attitude probably. I haven't been the same since we've been on the road."
I notice now that he's wearing his glasses, he pushes them up the bridge of his nose when he realizes they're slipping. His hands, how they fumble with the frames. In this moment I want to hold him, but instead I take a sip of my tea and wait it out, as this always comes in waves.
* * *
"Here," Phil says, passing back a water bottle. "Thanks," I say taking it from him. He's changing in the car and I'm brushing my teeth. "Can't wait for a sink," I say to myself.
I look up and try to find stars, but there's so much light pollution you can hardly see anything. Frowning, I spit onto the sidewalk, rinse out my mouth with the water bottle, and climb back into the car.
Phil is already on the floor, comfortable under three or four blankets, scrolling through Twitter. "Come join me, get comfortable," he says, patting the blankets next to him. I smile a little, and climb into the blanket burrito Phil's already made. The lights are on in the van, everything feels cozy. I snuggle up next to Phil.
Phil looks over at me, eyes crinkled with happiness. Even when they're mostly closed, I can still see the galaxies in his eyes that rest at the bottom of the tide pool blue. Every time he blinks, his eyelashes flutter and new constellations form. I never tire of it.
I lean forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry I've been so short with you, and rude and whiny and impatient, Phil," I tell him. Phil chuckles, genuinely, like the kind I've been dying to hear for so long. "It's okay, Bear, I know you're just as stressed as I am. You obviously have different means of expressing it, but just remember that I'm here for you. Always."
Phil pulls me close to him, wrapping his arms around my waist. I tuck my head into the crook of his neck, feeling him sigh, his chest rise and fall. I haven't felt this comfortable since the beginning of the tour, but boy does it feel nice.
