Phan oneshots

Unlikely (Part 2)

Word Count: 6,476

Warnings: Slight homophobia

Genre: Fluff :)

I am SO excited to announce that this chapter was written by a guest writer! TheTrueTurtlegirl wrote this masterpiece, so please enjoy!
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If I do notice change, you owe me 10 pounds.

As he walked, Dan's legs felt heavy as his shoes scuffed along the pavement. In the dim light of the barely setting sun through a gap in the overcast sky, Dan glanced for the millionth time at the paper in his hand. The tiny paper that Phil had given him had shaky, but relatively neat handwriting that spelled out Phil's address. Dan could practically picture Phil scrawling the words onto the small scrap of paper with a dark blue pen. He could just see Phil, his thin eyebrows scrunched up and furrowed as he wrote, chewing slightly on his lower lip, and his hands trembling just a little...

Dan closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking. But he couldn't. He couldn't help it. Phil Lester was just so... so...

Cute.

Dan shook his head. PJ and Chris would never let me hear the end of this, he thought sourly to himself. He straightened his back and marched to the front door of the quaint, pale blue house that corresponded to the address on the little slip of paper. The bet that Chris made to Dan rang in his mind. Try not to stare at him too much, PJ's voice teased.

I don't like him, I don't like him, I don't like him... Dan repeated it in his head like a mantra, practically screaming in his mind, drowning out the bet, the words, and rattling the images of sweet Phil Lester, with his wide eyes and timid, awkward smile...

Stop it! Dan chided himself. I don't like him, I don't like him, I don't like him...

Dan hadn't realized he had lifted his hand to the doorbell until he heard a cheerful jingle from the inside of the house.

At first there was silence. Then, Dan could hear something--- thump, thump, thump, thump ---steps on hardwood, and it stopped at the door. It was silent again as Dan waited, and the door clicked as the handle turned from the other side of the door and pulled inwards.

The door opened a crack, and Dan could only see part of Phil through the door --- black jeans and a bright blue striped sock. Dan heard a small intake of breath, as if Phil was trying to steady his breathing. Dan felt sorry, and wanted to somehow make Phil calm down. He was Dan, just Dan Howell. Not the Dan Howell. Just regular old Dan. He wanted Phil to relax. He didn't mean any harm.

But Dan didn't like him, no of course not! He was just trying to be nice. I don't like him, I don't like him, I don't like him...

Nevertheless, Phil gathered the courage to pull open the door, and Dan's jaw nearly fell off of his face as he got a good look at Phil.

Phil's fringe was slightly untidy and scruffy, and sitting in front of Phil's darting, sea water eyes was a pair of thick-framed black glasses, slipping slightly down his nose. Phil had changed his clothes from earlier that day, from a form-fitting red flannel into a fluffy green hoodie, his hands just barely poking out from the large, puffy sleeves...

Dan swallowed a lump that was forming in his throat, the mantra of  "I don't like him" dying and fading from his mind. His face went warm all over, and he started to feel sweat form on his forehead. The silence between them had almost gone on far too long, Phil looking nervously at Dan, his feet shuffling a bit as he fidgeted, and Dan had to say something, anything...