A/N: Hey sweetheart! Keep an eye on my other profile "awesomesockes" or my tumblr " .com because I am posting a chaptered fis this week! It's going to be awesome, just saying. (note wrote 2. February)

"Dan manages to break his left arm, when trying to go to the bathroom, he discovers he needs Phil's help to undo the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper, so he can pee, but he is too embarrassed to ask Phil, but eventually he has to give in."

Someone asked for this^^ Of course. Here we go!

Phan oneshot!

Contains: Hurt/comfort, pure awkwardness.

Warnings: Blood, the word 'f*ck' is used quite a lot (close your eyes children).

Phan status: Friends

Words: 2.750

POV: Dan

Let me help you

DAN'S POV!

"Phil! Can you come here for a second? I need help to cook the rice!" I shouted through the kitchen. I was hurriedly cutting some vegetables. It was Phil's turn to make dinner—I really didn't have the time right now because I was working on a new video.

"Phil!" I turned my head slightly to yell out of the door, glancing away from the things I was cutting. I moved the knife without knowing and cut through my right hand instead.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck…" I threw the knife on the counter and grabbed around my thumb with my left hand, but it kept bleeding through my fingers. This was really deep. I looked around to find a solution, but found nothing.

The blood ran down my arm, leaving small blood marks on the floor where I was standing.

"Bathroom," I mumbled. I ran out of the kitchen and past Phil on my way.

"Dan, what are…" he began. No time to answer. I rushed down the stairs. But only managed to get halfway down before I missed a step and tripped, sending me down the stairs much faster than I'd intended.

I rolled all the way down, losing my grip around my injured hand, trying to stop my fall against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

Before I knew what was happening I slammed into the wall, breaking the fall with my hands. It was immediately followed by a loud crack. A wave of pain rushed through my left arm and my entire body, making my vision blur slightly for a second.

I quickly forgot about the pain from the cut on my right hand. It got replaced by the unspeakable pain from my—what I guessed now broken—left arm.

I screamed and stayed on the floor, disoriented. It had all happened so fast.

"Shit! You okay?" Phil walked quickly down the stairs and towards me.

I slowly opened my eyes and looked straight ahead. My gaze met a big red spot on the floor in front of me.

"Dan?"

"No. My arm…" I slurred and took heavy breaths. The sight of the blood mix with the pain made me feel nauseous.

"Oh god." Phil bent down so that he was kneeling in front of me. "W-we need to go to A&E," he said nervously. "Can you get up?"

"It hurts so fucking much! Fuck! No, I can't move." I couldn't support myself on either of my hands. The pain was slowly shaking my body.

"I'll go call a cab." Phil ran back up the stairs, leaving me on the floor. My hand was still bleeding a lot and my left arm was swelling.

I heard Phil storm down the stairs again while talking on his phone, explaining where we were.

"Five minutes? Great. Goodbye." He threw his phone away and got back down beside me. "Let me help you up," he told me. He carefully grabbed me under each arm, making me scream out in pain.

"Be careful you idiot!" I yelled. I shut my eyes tightly together as Phil got me to a sitting position, leaning against the wall with my broken arm across my chest.

"I'm trying. Sorry!"

"Fuck…" I muttered through my clenched teeth.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sorry what? Does it hurt?!" I asked sarcastically. "Are you stupid? My fucking arm in broken and my hand is cut open! Yeah… It hurts, Philip!"

"No need to be rude, I'm just trying to help."

"Then shut up," I snapped. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't think clearly right now.

Phil gently grabbed my right hand and unsteadily wrapped the bandage I'd been trying to get around it.

"It's a lot of blood…" Phil whispered.

"You're not going to pass out now, are you?" I asked, forcing myself to open my eyes to look at him. He looked kind of pale and small pearls of sweat was forming on his forehead. "Phil. You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." He quickly looked away from my hand when he was done. "I'm fine." He backed away from me.

"Phil."

"I'm fine." He breathed heavily. "I just need a second." He kept walking backwards.

"Please don't faint. I need help to get up." I smiled, trying to calm him down. I couldn't help him if he passed out. And he couldn't help me either. I needed him. "It's okay." I assured.

"Yeah, no. I won't. Okay. Okay, I'm fine." He took a deep breath and stepped back to me. I tried to think of a way to get up. I couldn't put any pressure on either of my arms. This was going to be hard.

"What if I rest my left arm on my right and you lift me up, okay?" I suggested. Phil nodded quickly and grabbed me underneath my shoulder.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes." I knew this was going to hurt like hell anyway, even though we did it slowly. Phil pulled me up and I helped the best I could. "Oh god," I mumbled. "It hurts so much."

"Okay?"

"Yeah…"

"I'm gonna get our stuff so that we're ready to leave," Phil said as he walked back up the stairs.

I looked around to find some shoes I could put on, but they all needed to the tied. A sudden thought hit me. If I wasn't able to tie my shoes now, how would I be able to do it with a plaster cast on my arm?

"Phil. I need help to put on my shoes," I said as he walked down.

"Yeah, of course." Phil bent down. How long would it take for a broken arm to heal? I wouldn't be able to do anything by myself. And of course it happened to be my left arm.

"Ready to go?" he asked as he stood up.

"Yes." I carefully walked down the stairs, resting my left arm on my right in front of me. Being sure I didn't move it too much.

"It's your turn in a minute," Phil said, sitting back down in the chair beside me.

"Great," I mumbled. My whole left side was pounding so hard I thought it would explode soon.

"Does it still hurt?"

"My arm is broken, Phil. Like cut in half? Of course it hurts! Now stop asking." I closed my eyes and rested my head back on the wall behind me.

"Daniel Howell?" I quickly looked up when my name was called. Finally.

"Should I help you up?" Phil got on his feet to stand opposite me.

"I can do it by myself, thank you." Why did Phil have to be so annoying? I know he was just trying to help, but I could do things on my own. It wasn't like I was paralyzed.

We walked into another room and carefully placed myself on the white hospital bed.

"What happened here?" the doctor asked.

I opened my mouth to give a response, but Phil quickly stepped in between us and answered for me. "He fell down the stairs. But before that he cut his hand open."

I stared angrily at him. "Phil?"

"Hmm?" he turned to me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, wrinkling my forehead slightly.

"Sorry." He moved out of the way.

"But yeah, that's what happened," I assured the doctor. It was the most embarrassing story.

The doctor didn't seem to question it and walked closer till he was standing beside the bed. He unwrapped my right hand. The blood had soaked through the bandage. Carefully, he turned my hand around in his to get a better look at the wound.

"This needs stitches," he told me. I rested my head back on the pillow. Great, just great.

They sent my arm through an x-ray to see how bad it was and how to put it back together the best way possible.

"We're going to work on both of your hands at the same time, so if you could just rest your right on that…" The nurse pointed on a small table beside the bed. "Then I'll take care of this side." She smiled and carefully lifted up my arm. They had to pull it back together to get the bones in the right place. I'd never been in worse pain, but now they just had to wrap it up.

"What are you looking it?" I jokingly asked Phil. He had just frozen in his position in the corner of the room.

"N-nothing," he stuttered, moving his gaze to the floor.

"This might hurt." But before I got the chance to react the doctor pressed a needle against my skin on my right hand. The pain was nearly worse than the broken arm. I didn't have words for it. It felt like my hand was going to explode.

"Fuck! Stop, stop, stop," I begged.

"Done."

"What the fuck?" I turned my head to look at the nurse. But she didn't answer—just started sewing the wound back together.

"Just sit back and relax, Mr. Howell," she said. That would be easier if they stopped hurting me all the time.

An hour later we were standing outside the hospital—I had one wrapped-up hand and one wrapped-up arm. The cast on my left arm was all the way up above my elbow and my right hand was covered in bandages.

"What am I going to do with these?" I asked, frustrated.

"At least you can still use your right hand." Phil looked me over. "Slightly," he added.

I didn't answer—just started walking down the road.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Yes. The pain is coming back." We had been home for two hours and I'd already managed to drop a glass of water because I couldn't hold onto anything. The doctor gave me some painkillers that I was allowed to take every few hours.

"Should I get you the pills?" Phil asked, but he'd already stood up before I got the chance to answer.

"You don't need to help me with everything, Phil," I groaned. But just as I said that all kinds of situations popped up in my head. How should I be able to dress by myself? Eat? Put on my shoes? I had to keep this on my arm for a least 6 weeks. I would be helpless. But Phil was my friend—he shouldn't have to pay for my own stupidity by being my servant.

"But I want to," he assured. He walked out of the room and came back with a glass of water and some pills. "Anything else I could do for you?"

"It's really sweet and everything, Phil. But I can't have you around all the time. I have to do it by myself, even though it's going to be hard, okay?" I gave my arms a glare. The radio show, my videos… This wasn't just about clothes. I couldn't do anything. Shower?

"But I want—" he began.

"No. It's fine." I tried smiling at him to show him it was okay. But I feared for the next couple of weeks.

I rose from the couch to walk out.

"Where're you going?" Phil asked.

"Aren't I allowed to go to the bathroom?" I asked back, turning around.

"Eh, of course." Phil's cheeks turned slightly red and he turned his attention back to the TV.

I, carefully this time, walked down the stairs and into the bathroom, locking the door behind.

But this was going to be harder than I'd thought. I was usually left-handed but now my whole left arm was covered in a plaster cast. The stitches on my right hand were so fresh and sore that it made it impossible to unbuckle my belt. My fingers kept slipping and it started to hurt more and more.

"Not today…" I mumbled angrily before violently swinging the door open. I would need help for this, but how do you ask your best friend to undo your jeans because you need to pee? It was embarrassing.

I sighed hard and sat back down on the couch next to Phil.

My mind was trying to figure out the right sentence. But everything sounded wrong and stupid.

I moved around on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position without putting pressure on my bladder until my brain would come up with a solution.

I kept my attention on the TV, but no matter how I sat it only made me need the toilet more and more.

"What are you doing?" Phil turned to face me. I couldn't stay still—this was getting serious.

I squeezed my eyelids hard together and swallowed my pride before I spoke. "I need to pee so fucking bad," I breathed out.

"I thought you did that already?" He raised his eyebrows at me.

"Yeah, but…" I held up both my hands, revealing my problem.

"Oh.. Oooh. Do you need, eh, help with that?" Phil asked, shyly.

"Yes. Yes, please." I didn't like this, but I had to or else this would end terribly wrong.

"Stand up then," Phil nervously commanded. This was making him uncomfortable—I knew it.

I did as I was told, regretting it instantly as the gravity didn't work on my side, making me step around on the floor.

"Hurry," I begged.

"You have to stand still." Phil slowly moved his hands to my crotch. I pressed my legs hard together and did my best not to move. "Only the belt or everything?" He moved his gaze from my jeans to my eyes.

"Everything." If I couldn't undo the belt by myself I wouldn't be able to do the button or the zip either. Phil didn't say anything, just opened the button and pulled down the zipper.

I thought about it for a second. "Could you… Do you think you maybe could, you know, pull down my pants slightly?" I mumbled. "They're so tight."

"Yeah, of course." Phil grabbed the sides of my jeans, looked away and pulled down. Not all the way, just making it possible for me to do the rest.

"Thank you." I breathed out and quickly ran out of the room.

"Be careful on the stairs!" Phil shouted after me. No time to answer him.

I only just managed to get in toilet and pull my jeans further down.

I walked back into the lounge with my gaze focused on the floor beneath me. Phil hadn't moved from his position. He slowly turned his head to me and smiled widely.

I cleared my throat and nervously stepped closer. "Eh, could you…" This was even more embarrassing than before and now I was as desperate which made it worse. "You know… Maybe, zipmypantsagain?" I said a little too fast.

"What?"

"Could you zip my jeans back up?" I felt my cheeks heat up slightly. "I can't do it."

"Yeah. Of course I can." How could Phil keep this so cool? It was like everything was normal. My friend had to close my pants, how could this be normal?

"I'm sorry for this," I muttered. "I'm sure I can do it when my right hand is okay again." I turned it around in front of us and looked at the white bandages.

"No problem. Really. You need help, so let me help you—I don't mind." Phil closed my belt and gave me a big, caring smile, just like he always did. "You would do the same for me."

"Thanks," I whispered and placed myself on the sofa pillows. "Just so you know, this might not be only thing I can't do. But I think the most awkward things are over now." I grinned shyly, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah, yeah." Phil nodded and looked straight ahead.

"But thank you." I said after a moment of silence and finally looked at him.

"Any time—really. Don't be embarrassed. It's not like you can help it." Phil smiled.

"I could stop being so clumsy."

"Yeah. But does that sound realistic?" Phil grinned.

"Maybe not." I threw my head back on the pillow. "God, why did you make me this way?" I hid my head in my right arm as my left was stuck in a 90-degree angle across my chest.

"Should we order some food instead?" Phil asked, moving my arm away from my eyes so that he could look at me.

"Yeah, that might be a good idea." I grinned. "I'm a bit useless," I said, glaring at my broken arm.

thend

A/N: Hit me with a prompt if you have one! Follow for more Phanfiction! ^_^