A/N: I used the playboy mansion as inspiration for the outside of Phil's house lmao

This is over 2k words!

May 19th

"I promise I'll have the money, I just can't assure you that it'll be by the twenty-ninth."

Mrs. Barns pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply. "Dan—"

"I know, I know, I don't like it any more than you do. But please," Dan begged, "Just, give me a few days."

The woman closed her eyes, sighing deeply. "You promise you'll have it?"

"I promise," Dan averted his gaze, knowing this wasn't entirely true

"Three days." The landlady reclined in her seat, shuffling the papers in front of her. "I will give you three extra days and nothing more."

Dan let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much, really."

"I'm only doing this because of your grandfather," The woman's voice was stern, but her gaze softened, "I know he wouldn't want you to lose the place."

Dan swallowed his guilt. "Thank you."

May 20th, final day to submit short stories.

"Sorry I couldn't get you yesterday, I would have if it weren't for all the work my dad gave me," Phil smiled up at Dan as he clambered into the passenger seat.

"Don't worry about it, I have until midnight to submit the story." Dan cupped Phil's cheek, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "It's not like you had to let me use your computer."

"I figured you'd want a quiet place to work. Besides," Phil began driving, casting a glance at his boyfriend, "any excuse to see you."

"You're a dork," Dan grinned, his smile growing as Phil took a hand off the wheel to rest it on his thigh.

Phil's house was farther away than Dan had thought. They had left the town miles ago and were still driving through the countryside.

"Do you have to drive this far every time you come to see me?" Dan asked.

"Sometimes I stay in the studio, which is a bit closer, but yeah, usually."

"Phil! This is so far!" Dan exclaimed.

"It's not that bad."

"It's already been like, what, thirty minutes? You came to see me four times last week, that's an hour drive for each trip! Oh gosh, the gas money…"

"Dan," Phil slowed the car down, turning to look at the man. "It's fine. I like visiting you, and I don't care how long it takes," He cast a quick glance back at the road. "Don't worry about it."

Dan sighed, muttering a reluctant "Fine."

...

Before long, the car had passed through a wrought-iron gate and was driving up an unusually long driveway. As they approached the top, Dan's jaw dropped open. Though he had been impressed by the studio, it was nothing compared to the mansion that sat before him.

The building looked old-fashioned, but modern touches here and there made it sleek and sophisticated. The house was big enough to fit Dan's small flat in it several times, stretching generously across the property. The pale brick walls supported large windows, some of which stretched from ceiling to floor. A gorgeous garden wrapped around the right side of the building, trailing off into the backyard. As far as Dan could tell, the property stretched on for several acres.

The grand, oak doors swung open and a man in a well-pressed uniform hurried out.

"I told him not to wear the suit…" Phil grumbled, staring at the butler with a tired, yet amused expression.

Dan was unable to pry his gaze from the house, even as the car door was opened and he was ushered out. "Holy shit…" he muttered softly.

Phil gave a forced smile, shutting the car door behind him. "Shall we go inside? Your story isn't going to type itself."

Dan nodded slowly, his mouth still hanging open. "Yeah…yeah sure…"

"Gerrund, can you move the car, please?" Phil placed a hand on Dan's back, urging him towards the house.

With a curt nod, the butler hurried to the driver's side.

…

The inside of the house was no less grand than the outside: a massive chandelier hung over the main entrance, lighting up the staircase. The polished marble floors stretched down several corridors, each hall decorated with gorgeous wallpaper and art.

Dan's eyes were the size of saucers, his mouth hanging open still. "Holy shit."

Phil laughed softly, grabbing his hand. "You can use the computer in my room, c'mon."

Dan resembled a child in a candy shop as he was led up the staircase and down the hall. He seemed utterly overwhelmed by the setting.

"Are those your paintings?" Dan pointed to the large frames hung across the wall.

Phil laughed, but there was a note of bitterness behind it. "No, my father would never allow any of my work to be hung out here."

Dan frowned, giving Phil's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry."

Phil shook his head dismissively. "It's not your fault he's materialistic."

The two stopped in front of a door with a sloppily written "P" on it. It appeared to be written in sharpie and looked faded, as if someone had tried to get rid of it. Phil pushed the door open and they walked inside.

Phil's room was just as grand as the rest of the house, but not as flamboyant. A sizable chandelier hung above a large bed. The walls were a modest, light-blue pattern, complementing the wooden floors. A large bed was covered with a plain, grey duvet, the same cover of the large rug underneath their feet.

"Just over here," Phil motioned to the left side of the room where a tidy desk sat next to a few bookshelves.

Dan took a seat in the chair, leaning back. It was much nicer than his chair—the leather wasn't torn and it didn't squeak.

The computer was something Dan could only ever dream of having, probably costing more than all the furniture in his bedroom combined. He ran a hand over its sleek keyboard

"Here, I'll open Word," Phil leaned over Dan, pulling the program up. "Do you need anything? Something to eat or drink?"

Dan shook his head, pulling the papers out of his bag. "No, thank you though."

Phil massaged Dan's shoulders gently. "I'm going to work on some sketches while you write, if you need me I'll be just down the hall, okay?"

Dan nodded, staring in slight awe at the computer. "Okay."

"I'll check in in a bit." Phil leaned down, pressing a kiss to his hair.

…

"He probably thinks I'm stuck up," Phil grunted, aggressively sharpening his pencil.

"I doubt that Mr. Howell feels that way," Gerrund muttered, brushing Phil's pencil shavings into a trashcan.

Phil laughed dryly. "You want to know what kind of people live by themselves in huge, expensive houses? Douchebags."

"That is simply a stereotype, sir. I'm sure Mr. Howell knows you're not like that."

Phil sighed, glaring down at his blank sheet of paper. I'm just tired of it, you know? Everyone assumes I'm just like my parents: I want to become the best businessman out there and buy a bunch of overpriced, useless shit to fill the spaces where emotion should be."

Gerrund frowned. "Now, you know better than to talk about your parents that way. They love you very much."

"Fine, I'll give them that much. But you can't deny that owning four mansions and seven sports cars is too much for a family of three." The butler remained quiet, and Phil continued. "People are dying, Gerrund! We could be using our money to help the homeless or donate to charities! The furniture in the lounge alone is enough to pay for someone's college tuition." Phil began scribbling heatedly across the paper.

"If you feel so passionately about this, why don't you talk to them?"

Phil shook his head. "You think I haven't tried? Every time it's the same 'We earned it, they didn't' excuse. It's pathetic."

Gerrund opened his mouth a few times before he spoke again, his words hesitant. "I don't know what to tell you about your parents—your father is a hard-headed man, after all—but I wouldn't worry about Mr. Howell. While this type of lifestyle is the opposite of what he's been living his whole life, he seems very enthusiastic about experiencing something new."

Phil sighed, glancing nervously up at his butler. "Do you think I should have waited longer before telling Dan about my family?"

"Do you?"

"I dunno, I just…" Phil set his pencil down, leaning back in his seat. "He seems so excited by all of this, I don't want him to end up like Mathew."

Gerrund pulled a chair up next to Phil, taking a seat. "My dear boy, the first thing I noticed about Dan was the way he looks at you; he gets this certain light in his eyes that was never there with Matthew." The old man smiled kindly. "He really does care about you." The corner of Phil's mouth turned up, and Gerrund continued. "I haven't told you this, but I never did like Matthew. The emotion on his face when he talked to me was always so bored…fake…dead. Even with you, he seemed cold." Gerrund paused, his tone gentle. "I just wish I would have said something."

"Don't blame yourself for my mistakes." Phil said softly. "I wouldn't have listened anyway; your intervention would have just caused more problems."

The old butler gave Phil a kind smile, his eyes twinkling. "I suppose so."

Before either of the men could say anything else, there was a soft knock at the door. "Phil?"

"Hey, what's up?" Phil spun around in his seat.

"I'm done, would you mind proof-reading it before I send it off?"

"Yeah, course." Phil stood up, casting a quick smile at the butler as he followed Dan out.

…

Dan sat on the edge of Phil's bed, watching nervously as he read over the story. "I know the part about the door is a bit weird, but I had to stay within the word limit… the description of the setting could be better…do you think I spend too much time talking about the tree? I didn't know if I should—"

"Dan," Phil spun around in his chair, an amused look on his face, "stop worrying, it's brilliant, I love it!"

Dan grinned, sighing in relief.

"I love your use of imagery, especially in the door part." Phil grinned, getting up from his seat. "Go ahead and submit it."

Dan hurried over to the computer, pulling up the contest site and clicking on their email. "I sure am glad to get this over with..."

Phil stretched out on the bed, watching as Dan eagerly submitted his work. After a few moments, the man spun around in the swivel chair, smiling with accomplishment.

"Come here," Phil grinned, patting the bed next to him.

Dan crawled on the duvet, lying as close as he could to his boyfriend.

"You did great and I'm proud of you," Phil pressed a kiss to Dan's forehead, smoothing back his hair.

"Thank you," Dan murmured. He wrapped his arms tightly around Phil, breathing deeply.

After lying in silence for a few moments, Dan spoke: "Your house is so pretty. You must love living here."

Phil shrugged. "Eh."

"Do you not like it?"

"It's alright, I guess."

Dan's eyes bulged. "You guess? Dude, this place is incredible!"

"Well, yeah, it's gorgeous, but it's just so big. It's meant for a family, not a man living on his own. Hell, even when I lived with my parents here, it never felt like home. It's always just been a house to me." Phil sighed, tracing his fingers up and down Dan's arm. "Even after living here for my whole life, I still feel like I can't get comfortable. That's why I like your place so much; it's just so cozy and relaxed."

Dan gave a huff of amusement. "If I lived in a place like this, I'd never complain."

Phil sat up, looking down at his boyfriend. "I'm not ungrateful for all this, I just wish my family would spend money in more practical ways," he said defensively.

The writer looked up in surprise. "I never said you were..."

"I'm sorry," Phil shook his head, closing his eyes for a second, "I just don't want you to think I'm really stuck up or anything."

Dan laughed, wrapping his arms around Phil and pulling him back down. "I'd never think that. You're one of the most down-to-earth people I've ever met."

"Dan…" Phil gushed. "Thank you."

Dan leaned forward, pressing a gentle peck to Phil's lips. He made a noise of surprise as the artist slid a hand around to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. Their lips moved against one another's until their mouths seemed to melt together. Phil pushed himself on top of Dan, running his hand through the other boy's hair and twisting the strands around his fingers. Dan moved his hands to Phil's, waist his heart pounding madly in his chest.

After a moment more, Phil pulled away, his breath heavy. "Stay for dinner?" he asked , brushing the hair back from Dan's forehead. His lips were fuller than before and had a dusky pink tint to them.

The younger man nodded, his cheeks flushed. "Yeah. Definitely."

A/N: I think its really cool that everyone who is reading this envisions the story differently. Like I imagine the setting to look a certain way, but no one else imagines it exactly the same.