Summary: Dan has accepted his sexuality, but has a plan to truly feel comfortable in his skin. He wants to yell it out (quite literally) for the world to hear that he’s gay. His plan doesn’t unfold exactly how he wants it to, but the alternative is quite nice, and he ends up having a date because of it. Heavily based on the iconic video by Miles McKenna, “Coming Out to Strangers” (x)
Warnings: none really besides a brief food mention and the usual swearing
Traveling home from an unsettling weekend was already a bust. With a throbbing in his head the train ride was at the very most least enjoyable, trying not to vomit on the people sitting next to him, the London heat beginning to swelter, making his journey home already heavy enough, and even a rude taxi driver who wanted to talk the whole way made Phil want to slam his head in the car door. By the time he made it to his building and into the lift he could see grey spots lining throughout his vision. This isn’t going to be just another headache he uttered in his head.
The keys clicked and he was welcomed by a blast of cool air, the best thing about the day so far. He expected their new home to smell of cleaning supplies and be spotless of litter, but alas, Dan’s pile of shoes were greeted by the door, garbage had yet to be taken out to the chute, and dishes were mountain high in the sink. Phil dropped his bags and let out a groan, palming the cool of the counter tops. “Dan?” He said, his voice quivering from the sudden nausea rising again.
“I’m upstairs I’ll be right down!” Followed along with the thump of his pattern trailing down the stairs. Phil looked up at him, seeing Dan with a wet curly mop on his head and the smell of their shampoo overcame him. He had just gotten out of the shower, it was 5 pm. “Hey! How was the trip?”
“It was fine, did you just shower?”
“Yeah, I’ve been busy and forgot you were coming home there for a minute.”
“Were you too busy to clean?!” Phil’s voice grew but he didn’t mean it to. His head pulsated with every word that came from his mouth. He groaned under his breath.
“What the fuck hit you on the way home?” He tried to joke, Phil didn’t take it.
“I have a headache.”
“I can tell.”
“Why is it that when I leave for half a week you can’t even manage to do half of the work around here? This is our new place it’s supposed to always be clean and nice!”
“Hey, it’s not like it’s a pigs’ pen. I’ll clean it right now.”
“That doesn’t even matter it was supposed to be done before I got home!”
“What am I to you your housewife?”
Phil leaned up against the fridge, adding cool pressure to his already pounding head. The light coming through the window was suffocating and Dan’s shrill high voice wasn’t helping. He opened the freezer to see a familiar lifesaving tool not to be found, “Where’s my cool rag?” He whined.
“Oh I used it the other day.” Dan dragged out, knowing he was upsetting him even more.
“You didn’t put it back!?” Phil was almost at a cry now with frustration. His hand shaking as he applied pressure to his forehead and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Look I forgot, stop putting everything on me. You’ve been home for ten minutes and you’ve been yelling at me!”
“Please don’t shout.”
“You’re shouting!” He replied, failing at lowering his voice.
“Do I have to make you a list every time I leave to ensure things get done?”
“Phil will you relax?!”
“I can’t believe that I still live with a teenager who’s too stubborn to do his own cleaning!”
“Hey. Phil. Calm down.” Dan grabbed a hold of his shoulders and Phil tried to fight it but melts by his touch. His nose flairs with defeat and frustration, “Why don’t you go and take your contacts out and go to bed. Have you taken anything?”
Phil let out a breath, “No. I didn’t have any.”
“Okay well let’s start there.” He turns to the cabinet with migraine medicine and pours him a glass of water. While doing so, Phil leans over the counter and grumbles something intangible into his hands. Dan closed the curtains leading light into the kitchen and swapped on a calmer light that wasn’t bright and fluorescent. Phil with sad drooping eyes takes his medicine and chugs his glass empty. He wobbles standing up and doesn’t know what to do from there, “Good. Now go upstairs and go to bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed!” He whined.
“Why?” Dan sighed
“Because if I fall asleep now I’ll wake up at two or three and won’t be able to go to back to sleep until seven and I don’t want to waste my entire evening.”
“Well why not just try and take a little hour nap? Have you eaten anything?”
“No I’ve been on a train for two hours.” He spat back.
“You got to take care of yourself, did you eat anything before the train?”
“No because I had a headache. I didn’t want to throw it back up.”
Dan drug out a long sigh before tugging him towards the stairs, “Go up and get into bed. I’m sorry the house is a mess. I’ll clean it and be up there in a few.”
“No.” He pushed Dan away, pinching the bridge of his nose again, “I don’t need to be fucking babied I get that enough from my mother.”
Dan swallowed down the offense he took, knowing that Phil didn’t mean it. He watched Phil climb up the stairs and close the door to their bedroom. Dan did whatever in his power to clean the dishes as quietly as he could.
Phil undressed in a swift motion, and no motivation to change his shirt. He scoffed over the mess of laundry piling up on Dan’s side of the room but the spots in his vision started to blend into the tightness of his eyelids. He collapsed onto the bed and swarmed himself with sheets. Even the quiet was pounding. He tried to motion his breathing to a steady pattern but even thinking hurt too much. His fingers and toes started to crawl numb and sweat traced around his back. He didn’t want to throw off the covers as he finally felt like he was home. But he knew something was missing. He growled as his phone lit up even set to the lowest setting, his hands trembling over the keys. “I need you” he texted, throwing his phone on the other side of the bed. Nearly in tears because it hurt too much to even breath.
What felt like an eternity later he was greeted with a cold damp rag combing across his forehead and eyes, “It’s wet” he grumbled into his pillow. Feeling the bed shift in weight and the warmth of Dan laying beside him.
“I dried it out the best I could, sorry it wasn’t in the freezer.” He said in his softest tone, the tone he uses when he knows he’s lost. His innocent tone that Phil loves that springs butterflies into his chest. “Don’t think just breathe, relax. You’re home.” Dan continued nearly at a whisper. The only sounds in the room was the faint hum of the air conditioner and Phil’s heavy breathing. In a relax state his breathing pattern became tighter, nearly to a dry sob. “Shhhh. It’s okay.” Dan whispered, giving in and lightly stroking his fingers through Phil’s already messy hair.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Phil whimpered, but also wanting to purr with being combed.
“It’s okay.” Dan whispered again, knowing where Phil likes it. He combed with the pad of his fingers, and ended towards Phil’s hairline with his fingernails. He did this repeatedly until Phil’s breathing had slowed, purring a thank you. Dan smiled, petting again and again, gathering the little bits of dandruff and dead skin caught between his fingernails. It wasn’t long until Dan found his own head on the pillow too, multitasking with both hands. His left up in Phil’s hair and his right lightly trailing down Phil’s arm as he watches him breathe and slowly null off to sleep. Out of habit, he began to quietly hum. Phil smiled, feeling the vibrations through the mattress and into his already beating heart.
The darkness of their room enveloped them with familiarity, as this is something that normally happens. Phil is different than Dan, when Dan gets headaches he must be left alone for three hours in the dark, not to be touched or even breathed on. But Phil fails every time, thinking he can be alone but succumbing to the touch of Dan with every crumbling breath he has. Dan loves it, knowing Phil purrs under his touch and is so loved in such a weak state. It’s an ordeal they never share, because they don’t have to. Phil rolls onto his stomach and Dan lingers his way down his back, tickling his shoulders and down his spine. He hears Phil purr again, making his train of hums break into a giggle.
Before he knows it, Phil wakes up to an even darker room, and assumes it’s 2 am like it usually is. His headache has dimmed to a minor annoyance and a hole is left to see that the other side of the bed is empty. He makes his way out of their room to hear their front door shut and Dan mumbling something to himself in the kitchen. Stammering his way down the stairs he sees pizza boxes and Cola bottles, along with a row of movies on the counter. Dan’s face lights up when he’s greeted with Phil in the room. “How you feeling?”
He makes his way closer to see that the kitchen was deeply cleaned, even the floors had been mopped. Phil scratches his head, “what time is it?”
“It’s barely 9.” Dan said grabbing plates from the cabinet.
“Is it really?”
“Yeah, you fell asleep and I came back down and finished cleaning. Ordered some pizza, edited a bit, and then here we are.” Dan’s smiling wide where his dimple is present. Phil gravitated toward him and collapsed into his arms. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” He spoke to his ear.
Phil smiled back, melting in the warmth of Dan’s embrace, “me too.”
“Well, since it didn’t work out earlier. Welcome home. We got pizza and movies and a lazy week ahead before jetting off to California. It’s good to have you back love.” He kissed his cheek but Phil took a hold of his chin and kissed his lips. Making his headache nearly evaporate away, as Dan is the only medicine he ever needs.
it's ironic how they wear just heavy clothes in heat. london is not that warm, so i imagine they feel the heat even more when they're in fl and texas and whatnot, whereas a floridian or a texan might not and would feel perfectly fine in jeans.
“It’ll be a refreshing trip from all the
London heat,” Rose said in a bitter, snarky voice as she trembled from
the plunging temperature. Frost started to form on the grey concrete
walls of the basement. She shivered beneath her puffy coat regretting
The Doctor clambered down the stairs cursing and beating the sonic against his palm.
“Welll, looks like a security measure. We’re a little sealed in…at the moment.”
“Sealed in beneath the illicit alien casino in the back of beyond Iceland. Brilliant.”
Got back from Wales yesterday. Time in the sun, by the sea, with friends, acquiring a lot of lobster from beneath the waves, and eating them. Drinking a lot. Inventing a cocktail that, like our lobsters, also got flambéed, and was surprisingly not awful.
Got home after an eventful and frustrating journey home in the muggy London heat, and pretty promptly fucked my toe up when I slipped down the stairs. The big toe on my left foot, specifically. And it’s surprisingly hard to walk without using one.
A day later it’s feeling pretty fucked still, and either it’s badly sprained or broken. Either way it takes me a bloody age to get around the house, and standing up is shitty, and I basically can’t go anywhere or do anything non-sedentary, and I’m just hoping it’ll improve and be forgotten by August. If not, that’ll be two Fightcamps I’ve gone to and not been able to participate in anything cos of an injury.
Again, my shit luck, or clumsiness, or just general accident magnetism, is astounding.
School of Slavonic and East European Studies, University College London by Short and Associates, 2002-5
The first major passively ventilated & cooled building in London, winner of the RIBA President’s Research Award 2007
“The building has a hybrid environmental strategy, naturally ventilated all year and passively cooled through the summer months but engaging downdraught cooling via a central lightwell through periods of summer peak temperatures. The London ‘heat island effect’ shows the city centre to be warming but the SSEES project demonstrates that it is possible to configure a low energy strategy in a city centre at these latitudes. This is the first known application of this low energy environmental strategy in a city centre in the world. The strategy has been exhaustively modelled and tested at the Institute of Energy and Sustainable Development at De Montfort University, Leicester, and the BP Institute for Multiphase Flow at Cambridge University.
Fresh air, tempered in winter or pre-cooled in mid summer, flows from the atrium across the floorplates to the exterior exhausts. We have devised acoustically treated narrow section transfer ducts within partitions to allow air to pass across enclosed spaces such as the first floor computer rooms without unwelcome sound transfer.”
Summary: The latest London heat wave is affecting hundreds of people, but Dan Howell has a personal vendetta against mother nature. Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.4k A/N: I wanna give a huge thanks to @vanillasolitude for giving me feedback on this. Without her I never would have actually had the drive to post it. Thx bae.
It was currently over 32 degrees in London and Dan was dying. He wasn’t built to endure such heat, especially after being spoiled on air conditioned tour buses and hotel rooms for three months.
The heat was brutal. It made Dan’s hair stick to his forehead and he was constantly drinking ice water meaning his bladder was almost always full. The tiny little fan that was meant to be shared between both Dan and Phil only seemed to circulate hot air into their faces. It was hell. But honestly, Dan wouldn’t really mind all those terrible cons that brought the heat if it weren’t for one crucial fact: the only time Dan and Phil ever slept apart was when it was hot.
Even when one of them was deathly ill, they still made sure to get their nightly cuddles, but when it was so fucking hot outside, there was no way that two bodies could comfortably lay next to each other. It was Dan’s personal hell.