Author's Note: So I've had this terrible headache for the past two days, which happens sometimes. I wrote this little fic this morning to distract myself.
Headache
Dan was slumped on the sofa, still scrolling through Tumblr at 2 a.m., when he realized that Phil hadn't gone to bed. Instead, he was huddled at the other end of the sofa, not even looking at his laptop or phone. He'd lain his head on the sofa arm and was curled into a tight ball. His glasses were lying on the coffee table, discarded.
"Phil?" Dan asked quietly. Phil didn't generally fall asleep on the sofa, but if he did his back would be sorry in the morning.
"Headache," was all Phil groaned in reply. He got them sometimes—vicious things that no paracetamol could touch.
Dan reached out to rest a hand on Phil's cherry-socked foot in an effort to offer comfort. He felt so helpless when Phil got these headaches. Sometimes they lasted for days.
"Baby panda videos?" he suggested quietly. Sometimes Phil could distract himself with brainless stuff like that for a while.
"It's gotten too bad for that," Phil replied. Once it got that bad, there was really nothing he could do but endure in misery.
Dan couldn't just go back to Tumblr when his friend was suffering like this, and yet there was nothing he could do. Nothing helped once the headaches had gotten beyond the baby panda video stage.
"Can I try something?" he asked Phil tentatively.
"Like what?" He could hear the pain in Phil's voice, now that he knew what was going on.
Dan set his laptop on the coffee table. "Lay your head in my lap."
"There's nothing you can do, Dan."
"Just ... try it."
Phil unfurled from his fetal position and wiggled around so that he lay stretched out on the sofa with his head lying face-up on Dan's lap, his eyes clenched shut in pain. "Don't touch my scalp," he begged plaintively. Dan knew that these crippling headaches came with a weird scalp pain, and the last thing he want to do was make it worse. He nodded reassuringly, then realized Phil couldn't see him with his eyes closed. "I won't. I promise."
He realized he wasn't sure what to do with his hands. He rested one gently on Phil's chest and asked quietly, "Is this okay?" Phil nodded. He stroked his hand in what he hoped was a relaxing, reassuring circle, feeling the tenseness of Phil's muscles. The pain on Phil's beautiful face was heartbreaking.
"Can I touch your face? Not your scalp, just your face." Dan asked uncertainly. Phil nodded. Dan reached out both hands to gently stroke his fingertips along Phil's delicate eyebrows, once, then twice, then a third time. He wasn't sure if this would help, but he wanted to feel like he was at least trying to do something that might help distract or comfort Phil.
He stroked one fingertip softly along the line of Phil's nose, then used both again to trace the sharp arches of his cheekbones. Phil was so lovely, and Dan gazed at him in longing, knowing that he couldn't give himself away when Phil's eyes were closed and he was so distracted. Then Dan felt guilty for ogling the man while he was in so much pain. He gently smoothed his fingertips along Phil's cheekbones again and Phil let out a soft sigh. "Is this okay?" Dan asked, keeping his voice quiet. Phil nodded. "It's nice." Dan smiled a little, glad that he was maybe helping a bit.
Next his fingertips gently stroked the hollow beneath Phil's cheekbones, tracing daringly down to his lips without breaking the touch. Phil's lips made a slight pursing movement under his touch, almost like the softest of kisses, and Dan caught his breath. His fingertips lingered over those cupid-bow lips he'd longed to touch so many times, tracing their graceful shape, then moved down to stroke along Phil's sharp chin and jaw. "Any better?" he asked hopefully.
Phil nodded, the tiniest of movements. "Distracting."
"Want me to talk to you? Try to keep distracting you? Or will the sound make it worse?"
Phil shook his head, again only a subtle movement. "Noise doesn't bother me. It's just ... nothing makes it worse. Nothing makes it better. It's just ... there ... and I can't get away from it. I can't even sleep."
"I know," Dan said soothingly, and he did. Phil had been getting these headaches occasionally as long as he'd known him.
"But you could talk to me. Maybe it would be distracting." Phil's voice was still tight with pain.
So Dan started talking softly, resting his hand on Phil's chest again and stroking gently in random patterns. With his other hand, he took Phil's, and Phil squeezed.
He didn't know how long he talked, just quietly telling stories about happy memories from when he was a kid, reminiscing about their trip to Japan together, describing things he found beautiful, like the stars and the sea ... anything he could think of that was positive and soft. He felt Phil's body slowly relax under his hands, and eventually Phil's hand went slack in his. Phil's lips were parted slightly, his breathing even, his eyelids no longer scrunched in pain, and Dan realized that he'd fallen asleep.
At least Phil would have some respite from the headache while he slept, Dan thought, happy that he'd been able to offer some help. He stayed as still as possible under the weight of Phil's head, not wanting to do anything to wake him, still gently holding his hand and resting his other palm on Phil's chest, which was rising and falling in a regular rhythm.
He couldn't get to his laptop or his phone without jostling Phil, so he just stared down at his friend's slack face for a couple hours in the quiet of their flat, until finally his own head fell back against the sofa and he allowed himself to begin slipping into sleep himself. His neck would complain in the morning, but it would be worth it.
Someday he'd tell Phil how he felt, but for tonight it was enough to just know he'd been able to offer comfort to the person he loved most in the world.