phan // one-shots

Step Out Into The Sun

summary: "when a house is bought"
or, the one where there's something about sitting in an airport on the other side of the world that causes dan to make impulsive important life decisions - circa TATINOF australia, august 2016.

(title from 'without you' by oh wonder)

word count: 1.5k

It's ironic – the first time they talk about it, they're the furthest from home they've ever been.

They're waiting for a plane, because they're always waiting for a plane these days, and it could be to Sydney or Melbourne or Adelaide, Dan isn't sure. At this point he's lost count of the seemingly countless cities they've visited in the past year, and Phil's promised yet practically non-existent fridge magnet collection can't help him now.

The only thing his so weary, so somnolent, so very tired brain can figure out is that it's Australia - and that it's hot and humid and so very far away from home.

And, of course, a drop bear could kill them at any second.

("I still can't believe you actually fell for that." Dan grins cheekily, later; head nestled into Phil's shoulder as they lie in the hotel bed, spontaneously searching for koala meetings at a nearby zoo the crew told them about.)

(You're the worst person in the world." Phil shakes his head, pretending to put all his attention into the zoo website and pretending to be annoyed when Dan takes control of the laptop to search for "funny koala vines" instead.)

Phil's "freshening up" in the airport toilets, fresh from teasing Dan about not spraying deodorant into any of his most important organs, fresh from Dan ineffectually punching him in the arm and ineffectually trying his hardest not to break out into a smile.

He stares blankly at his phone for a bit, immersing himself in other people's lives - but then he takes a moment, takes a breath, glances at the little girl opposite staring at him shyly as her exasperated parents desperately search for their boarding passes.

She smiles a little before heading into deep conversation with a well-loved cuddly lion, because of course it's a lion, and Dan feels the softest, tiniest tug in his chest.

Not yet.

One day.

When a house is bought.

And then Dan thinks of the flat waiting back home for them. More specifically, he thinks of how it's just a little bit falling apart; he thinks of the cracks in the kitchen tiles and the scratch marks on the walls and the despondent - "we're never going to get our deposit back, are we?" - as Phil spills another coffee, causes another permanent stain.

He thinks of how he hasn't seen his bedroom floor in three months because it's been swamped with open suitcases flooding with crumpled up clothes. He thinks of the incessant drills starting up as soon as they switch on the camera, the endless stairs that act as their only exercise when they're not performing sold out stage shows across the world every night, and the glass kitchen door that's well worn with lovely imprints of both their faces.

He also thinks of how Phil keeps complaining about how they can't keep the Dil head in his room because it freaks him out at night, and how vocally uncomfortable he is having sex with the decapitated nightmare of their virtual son's skull staring at them.
An admittedly niche problem, he'll admit, but a problem nonetheless.

("I'll protect you, babe." They're back home for a few weeks, procrastinating from unpacking, lounging on Phil's ugly wicker bed like they never left. Dan laughs and Phil hits him with a pillow.)