Phan One Shots - jilliancares

Little Arguments

Dan huffed angrily through clenched teeth, slamming his door shut for not-the-first time that week. It wasn't Phil's fault that he could be completely infuriating sometimes - or maybe it was. Either way, Dan was exasperated, and his door had been slammed, and Phil was yelling back, "Oh, real mature!"

He flopped onto his bed, pressing his face into the pillow and resisting the urge to scream. He was twenty four, not fourteen, and he just needed to calm down. He was sick of fighting with Phil; this fight had been going on for an entire week already, and he wanted it to be over, for it to become magically resolved with both parties satisfied. Dan knew that wasn't going to happen though, as he was stubborn, and Phil was right.

Yes, Dan knew that he was wrong - he had since the second day into this argument - but that wasn't going to make him apologize; he hated being wrong, and he hated apologizing. It was embarrassing and stressful and Dan could never manage to maintain eye contact throughout the ordeal.

It seemed like they were always getting into the most incredibly stupid arguments, ones that should be easy to solve and move away from if the two weren't so ridiculous. Or if Dan wasn't so ridiculously stubborn. He just couldn't help it. Although, laying there on his bed and wallowing in misery and self-resentment, simply wishing for this argument (that was almost entirely his fault) to be over, he couldn't see the point of not apologizing.

Still, the thought of actually walking into Phil's room and admitting he was wrong seemed daunting and made his heart pound in his chest. His stomach filled with anxiety at just the thought of apologizing, but actually doing it? Dan was pretty sure that he'd throw up, and at this stage, covering his boyfriend in actual half digested food from his stomach wasn't a very good idea.

Finally coming to a (begrudging) decision, Dan stood up and tip-toed out the door, deciding to scope out Phil's general attitude on his way to the kitchen. Getting food was a viable excuse to leave his room, and he doubted that Phil would be very suspicious of him for wanting to eat. He just really wasn't prepared to see another glare on his boyfriend's face, at least not when it was directed at him. He didn't mind it so much when it was directed at the old creep who'd just pinched his ass or the random girl who had been flirting with him.

Dan swallowed thickly as he pushed his bedroom door open, flinching when it inevitably creaked, therefore alerting Phil of his exit. He tiptoed out of his room, creeping quietly past Phil's (thankfully) closed door, and rushing into the kitchen. It was like a war zone, walking down the hall, with the creaky floor boards and the scuff of his feet on the carpet acting as mines, threatening to explode and demolish everything. Or at least threatening to give away his position to the enemy (his boyfriend).

Dan made it all the way to the fridge, door open and cold air spilling out, when he realized that he wasn't even hungry. He groaned, shutting the door and resting his head against the cool metal, convincing himself not to bang his head against it. The fact that he'd gone all the way to the kitchen, just for the possibility of seeing Phil and being forced to apologize, really said something. The smartest thing to do in this situation would be to step on his pride like a bug on the floor and flush it straight down the toilet. He'd do almost anything to be on good terms with Phil again, to have this argument behind them. (Well, almost anything; Dan still wasn't too keen on the whole 'apologizing' thing).

But then again, who even said he had to apologize? Or at least, be upfront about it? Phil was a smart person: he could probably tell when Dan felt bad about something. Surely he could take one look at his face (when he wasn't actually yelling at Phil) and realize that Dan felt like an idiot and a douchebag and that really he just wanted to cuddle again, wanted to lie wrapped up in each other's arms and forget about all of this.

So finally, Dan became the slightly bigger man and sulked his way back to Phil's door, knocking lightly and waiting for an answer.

"What?" Phil called, and even though it wasn't particularly hostile, it still made Dan flinch. Usually he just responded with an immediate 'come in', as who else would be knocking on his door?

"Can I come in?" He asked tentatively, not even noticing as he rubbed his elbow nervously. He pretended not to hear the sigh before Phil said 'sure'.

Dan let himself into the room, staring at his feet as he crossed towards the bed. Phil didn't say anything, and neither did he, but as he was standing by the colourful sheets of his best friend's (and boyfriend's) bed, he couldn't help looking up. Phil's eyes were surprisingly understanding, and maybe he saw how guilty Dan looked, or maybe he was just tired of fighting as well, but he lifted up his blankets, a universal invitation, and Dan happily slid beneath them.

It wasn't long before their bodies were tangled and wrapped around each other, and Dan's face was pressed against Phil's neck, breathing in his scent. He was warm and comfortable and even though they'd been arguing less than an hour ago, it felt perfect. Dan hadn't thought he'd be able to, what with the way his stomach had churned at the thought, but it came easily enough, pressed into Phil's neck and quiet, but still there. "I'm sorry."