Estrangements (Phan AU)

Nag

transitive or intransitive verb

       • to scold constantly; to harass; to be felt persistently. 

It's Saturday, four days since his last visit to Dan. It's so cold the windows of his car have frosted shut, so cold there isn't enough moisture left in the air for it to snow. Phil's fingers are ice where they clutch at the steering wheel, his veins like tendrils of glass pulsing frozen slush through his body, and his cheeks are flushed pink with the bite of the coldest day this year.

He yanks his hands from the steering column the moment he pulls up to the park, shoving them deep into his coat pockets with a shiver as he peels himself from the car. He winces at the drop in temperature, huffing out a hot breath as he stomps across the road to the familiar stone wall and the man still seated just in front of it.

"Are you going to tell me where he is this time?" he questions tiredly, the inquiry growing old and exhausted. He already knows what Dan's answer will be, so much so that he doesn't even look at him properly until he's stood on the curve barely a metre away. His eyes go wide when he does.

Dan's pressed against the stone wall behind him, unusual in itself considering he's always a good foot or so away, and his knees are drawn up to his chest. The blanket that usually serves as a buffer between him and the earth is instead wrapped tight around him, the outline of his arms visible where they huddle between his legs and his torso. His fingers are peeking from the top, cold and tinted grey where they keep the blanket high over his shoulders.

"Fuck off," he snaps, especially ferocious today. He curls tighter in on himself, scowl fixed firmly in place as he refuses to even look at Phil.

"Is that all you have?" Phil demands worriedly, already knowing the answer. "It's below fourty out, you must be freezing."

Dan practically growls in response. "No shit, Sherlock."

"I..." he pauses, takes another good look at the poor excuse for a man shivering at his feet, and nods his head decisively. "Come on, I'll drive us back to my condo. You can warm up, stay the night, and I'll drop you back off tomorrow when it's supposed to be warmer."

He's expecting a grudging acceptance of his offer, but he really should know better at this point. Instead of grumpily agreeing, Dan bristles even further at the proposition and shifts his glare from the entire universe to the single man in front of him. "No," he snarls. "Take your fucking charity and shove it up your ass. I told you to fuck off."

"Why do you keep wanting me to shove things up my ass?" Phil counters, frowning like it's an honestly perplexing notion. "I mean, really. If you're into me, there are much better ways to say so."

"Fuck," Dan fumes slowly, "off."

Phil raises his eyebrows, huffing as he plops himself down right beside him. "In the words of a dear friend of mine, 'no'."