phan one-shots

home (where your heart is set in stone)

Dan wakes up to the sound of Phil making breakfast and the smell of pancakes, and he teeters out of bed groggily. Last night was busy and filled with packing and filming and he's so tired but it's their last day and then they're out, for good, for forever, and Dan's grateful. It's so weird to see Phil's room so barren, with so many boxes. It reminds Dan of when they moved in, and he's also reminded that, oh hey, they're moving out now.

He opens the door into the kitchen, and there's Phil, still in his pyjamas and some glasses resting on his face and Dan slowly remembers how this is their routine. They've come so far and Dan couldn't be happier as he snakes his hands around Phil's waist from behind.

"Mornin'," Phil says, sleep still evident in his voice and Dan just murmurs something incoherent back.

They eat in the lounge, anime playing because this is their routine and Dan feels just a bit bittersweet. He looks towards the positives of this journey but, he can't be sure if Phil is as well. He wants to ask, and he swears he's about to, when Phil speaks up.

"You know, I still consider this place home. It's not like I want to, but every time I think of it I think home. And- and I agree it's a new era and it's time to find a new place and I know that one day we're gonna get a house too but I still just think of that new flat as a flat. It's not home yet." He says, looking down at his pancakes with almost a look of shame and Dan can't help but feel a little guilty about the amount he's been saying he won't miss this place. He can also read between the lines, and he hears the unspoken message. I don't understand how you're not sad.

"I get it Phil, I really do. Even if I'm pretty happy to leave. It takes time." Dan says, and it's true. He opens his arm in offering for a hug which Phil accepts. There's a beat of pause where they enjoy the moment and then, "I'll miss it."

"Me too," Phil mumbles in Dan's shoulder.

They finish breakfast in the lounge one last time.

-

Later on, they upload the video and Dan brings it up again. "You seemed happier about it yesterday. You didn't feel like you were gonna miss it." he says from his spot on the floor, the couch already gone. Phil looks out the window, to a view he's learned to know and one he'll never really see again.

"Most things weren't fully packed yesterday," he says, looking down at his hands. "It didn't feel real. I really am happy and excited Dan, but this flat was our home for five years." I don't understand how you're not bittersweet.

"I know. I know."

They do some last minute packing together in the lounge and Dan can't help but notice the silence. It's comfortable, of course, and maybe it's not anything to worry about, but the silence feels a sort of melancholy that can only be felt when leaving something.

Dan sighs, and places a hand on Phil's shoulder from where he stands in front of the bookshelf, all their stuff blending into one box because the line of what-belongs-to-who was crossed and blurred a long time ago.

"Phil? You alright?"

He's staring at the bulbasaur plushie now, but he nods, and gives a quiet, "yeah."

"No offense, but you don't really sound it." Dan says, Phil just shakes his head and places the bulbasaur in the box.

"I'm just going to miss it." Phil says. "I know I should stop being so sentimental over a flat that's falling apart and I should be positive about the new house but this is home. This place holds so much nostalgia for me, good and the bad. Dan, this was our home." how are you not nostalgic?

"Phil," Dan says gently, coaxingly.

Phil sighs, "You don't understand, do you?" he looks away, back the last, top shelf. The rest are barren. He quietly scuffles back to putting dvds and video games alike into their brilliantly labeled "case box".

"Help me understand then," Phil doesn't turn around. "please?"

"Dan, these might've been the best five years of my life thus far. This is probably the happiest I've ever been. We went on tour, we wrote not only one, but two books! Our audience grew and together we grew with it. We grew together. And we always will but, this place holds so much. It feels wrong not to give it the praise it deserves even now." Phil has more to say. "I don't understand how you're not that broken up about it, really."

Dan smiles wide, "I don't need this place Phil. I have home with me wherever I go."

And they fall together, like they always do, like they've grown together and the embrace is familiar like a house you've lived in long enough to call home. Phil groans. "That was the cheesiest thing you've ever said to me."

"Sh, you're ruining the moment."

"Sorry."

-

The next day is hard. It's hard to get onto the bus and realize, oh hey, we're moving out now. It's an ungodly hour of the morning and there's a toddler crying but Phil's completely conked out on Dan's shoulder which is a rarity because Phil's a light sleeper if Dan's ever known one. He tries not to move because Phil didn't sleep much the night before, but the tube makes it difficult. Still, he endures because that's what love is all about or some shit. Phil's snores make it worth it.

However, about half an hour later just ten minutes from their stop, they hit a particularly massive bump and Phil's eyes flutter open. When he comes to terms of where he is, he immediately groans and nuzzles further into Dan's shoulder.

"Hey Dan?" Phil says, through his sleepy haze and a mouthful of Dan's shirt.

"Yeah?" comes Dan's reply.

"I love you." he thinks he can feel Phil smiling into his shoulder.

"I love you too." Dan's dimples become prominent with the response.

A brief silence.

"Hey, Dan?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's go home."

They fall together. They're already home.