Phan One-Shots

The Tour Bus

"This is so nice!" Phil exclaimed. "Look at the little kitchen!" He turned slowly, taking in every detail of their new "home."

"Isn't it great?" Dan agreed absently, completely absorbed not by the decor but by his wifi-locating mission.

Phil wandered through the tour bus, opening doors and cabinets with the joyous expression of a child. The last door in the hallway had the biggest bed of all, and he flopped down on it contentedly, eyes darting around the room and taking in all of the details. This room was much larger than all the rest, he noticed. It had a TV and a door which, he suspected, led to a private bathroom.

"Dan?" he called, a smirk spreading slowly across his face.

"Yeah?" came the reply, clearly not having moved away from the router.

"This room's mine."

"Which?" Phil heard footsteps before the door opened and Dan peered inside.

"Wait, this one has a TV!" Dan said indignantly.

"And a bathroom," Phil added smugly.

"Why do you get it?"

"I'm older."

"I have more subscribers."

"I brought my whole Buffy boxset to watch."

"I'm more dependent on the Internet."

"I'm an under-appreciated ray of sunshine."

"Well... can't argue with that," Dan chuckled, tearing his gaze from his observation of the bedroom to look fondly at his best friend.

Phil smiled happily back, replying only with "So, what should we do with it?"

Dan blushed suddenly, an idea clearly coming to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

Phil giggled at his awkwardness, remembering the days Dan was constantly flustered around him, cheeks going scarlet each time he'd try to speak. Phil was so indescribably proud of him for overcoming so much and for becoming the confident, joyful person he had grown up to be, but he sometimes missed the innocence and sweetness, brought by the Dan of 2009 and destroyed by the Dan of 2012. "Yes?" he prompted.

Dan took a deep breath, hesitated only for a second, and tried again. "Remember, all those years ago, when I stayed at your house and you only had one bed and we- we shared it? We could pretend that we're back there and, um, share the room, you know?" He paused, surveying Phil's expression almost anxiously. When he spoke up again, the words rushed out in a single breath as if held back by a dam that had suddenly given way. "I mean, it doesn't have to be anything... not-platonic, of course. I just thought maybe it'd be nice, and then we could share the TV and nobody has to know and we're just friends and-"

"Dan, stop."

The torrent of defensive excuses cut off as sharply as it had begun.

"I understand. It doesn't have to be romantic at all. We're friends, and I get that, and you get that, and if we want it to be platonic TV-watching or cuddling or even sitting in silence, that's what it'll be. I'm happy regardless- being with you is enough, okay? Now, please stop acting like it's 2012 and get over here."

Phil patted the bed beside him, smiling openly. Rather than plopping heavily onto the bed as Phil expected him to, Dan sat on the edge of the bed before gingerly lying down and looking at his best friend carefully. They sat quietly for a moment, brown eyes and blue eyes meeting somewhere in the too-big space between them as present thoughts and past memories swirled around them in the thick silence that surrounded the simple bed on the simple bus that didn't seem to matter too much anymore. One in particular kept circling Dan's head frantically, and so he reached up with his mind to pluck it delicately from the air. He tried to speak, and hesitated.

"Yeah?" Phil prompted, somehow breaking the heavy silence without shattering the moment.

"Did- did you say something about cuddling?" Dan asked, the redness, which had only just begun to disappear, returning once more to his cheeks.

Phil smiled tenderly, the sight reminiscent of the bright sunshine he had so sarcastically - yet so accurately - claimed to be, and opened his arms. Dan eagerly closed the gaping distance between their bodies, happily allowing Phil's warmth to wrap around him in an embrace that carried them both back to a time when Dan was the smaller and quieter of the pair, to a time when Phil held Dan in his arms both at his best and at his worst, to a time when neither could ever have imagined that they would in their future have any use for a tour bus.

They gazed at each other in a haze of memories, and despite old thoughts surfacing painfully and urging him to back away, to hide from the inevitable, Dan found himself slowly leaning in to brush his lips against Phil's. But just as they touched, the fog in his brain cleared suddenly and his eyes snapped open wide, realizing exactly what he had just done. He began to defend himself and apologize, but Phil stopped his ramblings in a much more pleasant way than the first time. The pale hands were tangling themselves in his brown hair. The blue eyes were closed and their lashes fluttered lightly against his cheeks. And the soft lips were pressed firmly against his chapped ones.

They were kissing. He was kissing Phil Lester. And all his fears were succumbing to an overwhelming wave of triumphant joy as he finally acknowledged the feelings he'd been trying to deny for seven years.

Phil grinned against his mouth, their noses bumping softly as he murmured, "Took you long enough." Dan made a noise of amused assent and shifted to lay his forehead on Phil's chest.

This time, the silence wasn't heavy at all. It lay upon them like a light, soft blanket, only making them more comfortable in their shared embrace. It was as if a weight, sitting on them for the past seven years, had been lifted off of their hearts and replaced with ease and happiness and something akin to undeveloped yet clearly strong love.

"You know what I think?" Dan spoke suddenly.

"What?" Phil mumbled quietly into his hair.

"This would make a great story for Twitter. Domestic!"

Phil laughed knowingly. "They have no idea."