A/N: HEY YO, so this chapter's a bit shorter. Loads of domestic fluff (my favourite)
Enjoy! (and leave reviews)
-Justin
Chapter Thirteen: Dan
31-12-15
Leslie Pettifer sat at her kitchen table. Her fingers hovered over the trackpad on her laptop, clicking the refresh button once more. Phil had told her a few days ago of their plans to film a new video in the hospital room. "I would've let it be a surprise to you, too," he'd admitted, "but I wanted to make sure we weren't breaking any laws." She'd laughed with him, understanding his concerns. She'd assured him it would be fine, as long as nobody's badge was in the frame. The page finished loading and she grinned.
"Hello internet," Dan greeted, very cleverly hiding the fact that he sat in a hospital bed. "As you can see, I haven't died or gone into the secret service." A giggle could be heard off screen, and Leslie knew it was Phil. Dan glanced up, looking over the camera, and smiled. "Be professional, Phil."
"Anyway, you guys have been constant with the questions and comments, so I thought I'd put out a little bit of information." He looked nervous, and Leslie wondered if he was planning to tell the fans about his leg- well, lack thereof. "As you know, I was forced back into this place when my ankle decided to rebel against me a second time."
"You make it sound like your ankle is a person all its own," Phil cut in, jumping into frame to sit beside Dan. The camera stayed where it was, and Leslie assumed it was on a tripod. This was the first actual video they'd posted since coming out on YouNow, and the difference in behaviour was almost overwhelming. Phil slipped an arm around Dan's waist and Dan instinctively leaned into the one-armed embrace, resting his head on Phil's shoulder for a moment. It seemed that they were both gathering their strength.
"I'm not sure how to say this," Dan admitted, chewing on his lip. He reached out with one hand, and the camera was suddenly moving closer to their faces, wobbling slightly. "So I'll just show you." He looked to Phil, who glanced down at the covers where, unbeknownst to the other viewers, Dan's legs were hidden. Phil stood up and moved away, pulling the sheet with him. The camera panned down to reveal the big secret, just for a moment, and then Phil's face was blocking the view.
"His ankle ran away!" Only Phil would be able to get away with a joke like that. Leslie had heard him crying almost every night this week. Phil's eyes widened in mock surprise as he turned to Dan. "It must have been going through its rebellious teenage phase."
"Obviously," Dan agreed with a laugh. It was a genuine laugh, because he was so pleased that Phil had a way of turning horrible situations into something to smile about. "So there you have it, guys," he continued, looking at the screen again. "I'm stuck in this room for another three days. I'll post the whole story in the description down below. I think it's safe to assume you guys want that." He smirked, then winked, and then Phil was sitting beside him again.
"The last inappropriate wink of 2015," Phil mused, causing Dan to blush. "Bye, guys!" Phil's hand shot out to block the lens as they leaned into each other, effectively causing a shitstorm in the comments section. The video promptly ended, and Leslie couldn't keep the smile off her face as she scrolled down to read a few comments before heading off to work.
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"I was expecting a bigger shitstorm, to be honest," I said to Louise. I'd just shown her the video posted to my channel a few hours ago, and there were already a million views. A million people all demanding to know where my leg had gone. She was smiling widely, obviously happy that I'd told my fans about what happened. I knew in her mind, it meant I was accepting the situation. I mean, I was already doing that, but I guess she thought it meant I was going to be happy about it now.
"Chummy," Zoe called out, walking over to us. She grinned when she saw me, and her head whipped back quickly in search of Phil (I didn't need to ask who she was looking for; she'd been doing this all day) and then she plopped down right on Louise's lap in the reclining chair. "Alfie wants to see you. Said he misses you."
"Aw, what a sweetie," Louise gushed, and they both jumped up. "It's almost midnight, Dan. You better get over here with us." She winked before linking arms with Zoe and crossing the large room to where Alfie and a million others were gathered. Leslie had arranged for me to spend New Year's in Whittington's lounge, and it worked out since none of the other patients were in the mood to celebrate. There was a large screen TV mounted on the wall with a countdown and a live stream of London's Times Square, where the ball would be dropping any minute now.
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Tyler led the countdown, screaming the numbers in his banshee voice. When the clock struck midnight, he grabbed the guy he'd brought with him and I looked away before I could be scarred for life. Louise had Darcy in her arms, lips puckered dramatically. Zoe and Alfie were in the corner, Joe stood with Caspar and both of them were looking around awkwardly as if someone expected them to kiss or something. I looked at Phil, not surprised in the least that he was already staring at me with pink cheeks. This would be our first New Year's kiss. I shifted the crutch under my arm so I could turn to face him, grimacing at the way it still felt weird to be standing on only one foot now. His hands reached out, arms wrapping around my waist, and once I was sure he had a good grip on me, I let the crutch clatter against the wall so I'd have both arms free. Both went around his neck, and his lips were on mine before I could ask. It felt weird to kiss him in front of so many people, but it was also easy to get lost in a world where the only two people existing were he and I. His hands fisted handfuls of my shirt in his attempt to get closer, and his lips were moving against mine almost desperately. He might have been more excited about this than he'd let on. I smiled at the thought, accidentally breaking the kiss.
"Happy New Year," he whispered, breath tickling my skin. I had my fingers in his hair, scraping gently at the nape of his neck. The spot where his bare skin met his hair was almost as sensitive as my neck, and he let out a small sigh as my fingernails grazed over it.
"I think it's going to be a good one," I murmured. He frowned and shook his head, pressing his lips to mine quickly. His fringe fell into his eyes and I automatically slid a hand over his cheek to brush it back. When he pulled away a few seconds later, I took the hint and said, "I know it's going to be a good one," and he smiled before kissing me a third time.
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2-1-16
I knew it would be a good day because I'd woken up in my own bed, in my own house. Dr. Spencer had discharged me yesterday, finally, with two prescriptions and instructions to come back in two months to begin the torture of prosthesis fittings. The only good thing about it was that they'd promised I'd be able to walk normally again.
Phil was already gone from the room, but I could hear him banging around in the kitchen. Something crashed to the floor and he swore loudly, obviously thinking I was still asleep. Sometimes I wished I could see more of that side to him, the side that was actually pretty dominating and could beat me in a swearing contest (Well, let me rephrase that- I wished I could see more of his dominant side outside of the bedroom, if you know what I mean).
I got out of bed quickly, feeling a renewed energy at the prospect of spending my first morning without twenty interruptions. I was almost tempted to just hop out the door and forget about the crutch, but I knew I'd probably fall on my face or get scolded, and I knew he was already worried enough, so I reluctantly shoved the cushion under my arm and hobbled out to join Phil at the dining table. He beamed when he saw me, and literally dropped the bowl he was holding onto the table so he could rush over to hug me. "I was about to come wake you," he said, pressing soft lips to my cheek briefly. "I made pancakes." He pulled out the orange chair –my chair- and held onto the back while I lowered myself down. From this angle, I could see very clearly every part of the bodybuilder apron he wore. I couldn't remember where we'd gotten it from.
"Jesus Christ, Phil," I groaned, covering my eyes with one palm. "You're killing me." He snickered and pulled my hand away.
"Embrace my true nature, Dan," he insisted, stepping closer and pressing right up against me. I shuddered when I realized my elbow was right on the crotch of the stupid thing. "This is what you signed up for."
"Personally, I like yours better," I mused, glancing toward him. His cheeks turned pink and he lifted a hand to his face. I laughed, and his smile was automatic.
"Nice hobbit hair," he commented, right as I thought I'd won. His hand came down on top of my head, and he wriggled his fingers to mess it up. I smacked him away, but he came right back. "I like it this way." He leaned down suddenly, looking at me with the same expression he wore whenever he was about to ask a serious question. "How are you?"
I could've called him out on asking such a boring question. But I knew how utterly not-joking he was by the way his eyes were shining with unshed tears. It was the same exact expression he'd had when I had a conniption over Uni, and when he'd come to me after YouTube leaked the prank Valentine's Day video. There was really only one answer to give him, and I was glad it was the truth.
I took his hand, twining our fingers together, and told him honestly, "I'm fucking hungry."
A/N: No, I'm not sorry.