A Hundred Days | Dan Howell x Reader

Chapter 21.

A/N:

Just used London Bridge Station today and face palmed when I realised IT'S NOT RIGHT BY LONDON BRIDGE, TINA YOU IDIOT!

I'll fix it later... Maybe on next weekend... It'll take a while:

~Tina x

• • • • • •

You'd sat yourselves in the order you were to drive— first Dodie, second Evan, then Louise, and following her, Liam, then Eileen, next you, Dan, and finally Phil.

The city of Lucerne, or Luzern, as it was called by the Swiss locals, was an approximate eleven hour drive, plus breaks. Therefore, the eight of you had decided to each drive an hour before a hurried shuffle 'round, with you, Dan, and Dodie volunteering to each drive an extra hour so that Luzern could be reached by mid-afternoon. In Luzern, you all were to stay the night at a quaint little hotel in the city's centrum, then the next day continue on to Tuscany, Italy.

Language wouldn't be an issue anywhere— Eileen Petra Canterbury, master of all languages (or so you perceived her), was fluent in both German and Italian, amongst several other languages. The language fetish was a hobby of hers, so once she knew two, three, then four, it all just kept coming.
She'd drilled you all in on a few simple phrases before and whilst the journey progressed— things such as how to greet a person, thank someone, and how to order food.

Now it was Dan's turn to drive, and as sleepy Phil wasn't bothered to leave the backseat before he took the wheel, you moved from where you'd been driving and back into the passenger seat.

Dan turned the key in the ignition, and you, tired of the silence that stretched as the landscape outside the windows dulled to nothing worth seeing, fumbled at the sound system of the car, desperate for some music.

But Dan batted your hands away from the radio.

"Uh-uh", he said. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake-hole".

"Or hers", you put in. "Or theirs". Dan gave you a pointed look. You shut up.

Dan proceeded to plug his phone into the audio outlet, tapping a few things on his screen. "There".

When nothing but the GPS' monotone voice played, you turned up the volume and Dan pulled back onto the motorway.

...and I hit the ground running.
It didn't make sense just to live for fun—
your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb;
so much to do, so much to see
so what's wrong with taking the backstreets?
You never learn if you don't go—
you never shine if you don't glow.
Hey now, you're an all-star—

"Oh, come on!" you shrieked as Dan chuckled to himself and the remaining passengers of the car groaned as one.

Dan grinned again, stealing a glance at you before launching into a clearly well-practiced All Star dance, somehow still able to concentrate on driving without being reckless.

Despite the fact that you'd heard the song at least a million times and were getting sick of it, Dan's smile and enthusiastic demeanour had you singing along by the end of the track, and even Phil with his eyes half-closed and his head lolling was smiling as the car bounced with energy.

"Yes!" Dan cried as the next song came on. "The gods smile upon us!"
You sent him a bemused look.

He blinked, "Or... something", and shrugged as you started up your karaoke once more.

"'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby!" you wailed with the stereo.

Dan was also singing, or lip-syncing with pouty facial expressions before Louise chimed, "Eyes on the road, Daniel".

Dan made big eyes at you, a child told-off by a parent, and frowned, mouthing, Such a mum.

You laughed and repeated Lou's sentiment, "Eyes on the road, pretty-boy".

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dan's lip quirk up. "Pretty-boy?" he said with a suggestive tone.

You just shrugged, "Suits you better than fuckboy".

His cheeks reddened. You smiled and said, quietly, so that only he could hear,

"You are pretty, though, but you knew that already".

The road ahead was deserted; Dan allowed himself to look at you, smiling shyly, eyes meeting yours from beneath dark lashes.

And as the brown-haired boy shifted the gear in the manual car, Twenty One Pilots drawling Car Radio, his fingers brushed yours, then curled around them, letting go only as to change the gear again.

And you were falling.