Phan One Shots - jilliancares

Inspiration

"What is it?"

"I don't know yet."

Phil laughed. "How are you supposed to finish something you haven't even started?"

"I'm trying to start it too."

"May I?" Phil asked politely, reaching for Dan's abandoned sketchbook. Dan nodded with a shrug.

Phil flipped open the sketchbook, starting at the beginning, and let out a low whistle. "This is awesome," he said. He continued to flip through the sketchbook, a mixture of drawings that Dan had actually tried on, half-hearted doodles, and unfinished and abandoned projects.

"You're a really good artist," Phil said, and Dan flushed.

"It won't matter if I can't come up with an idea for this project," Dan complained, and then realized he was complaining, which embarrassed him more.

"You'll get it," Phil promised, and for some reason, be it the twinkling in his eyes or the trustworthy smile on his face, Dan believed him.

It was as Dan was walking back into his dorm, trying not to wake anyone else on his hall, that he realized he'd forgotten the doodle he'd done of Phil on the table. He'd taken his sketchbook, which had been covering the drawing, but forgot to throw away the napkin. Blushing at the fact that the near-stranger had most likely seen it, and most probably felt creeped out at the fact that Dan had drawn him, Dan collapsed onto his bed. Determinedly, Dan pushed the embarrassment out of his mind. It wasn't like he was likely to ever see Phil again anyway.

—

The next night, when Dan found himself drowning in horrible ideas with crumpled papers surrounding him, his hair once again resembling a bird's nest, he barely had to think about it before he was slinking out of his dorm and past the closed doors of everyone who knew how to fall asleep at a sensible time. His thoughts were filled with the smell of coffee and a blue eyed boy who'd listened to some broke, tired art student complain about his problems.

When Dan arrived at the coffee shop, he briefly stopped to wonder if Phil would even be there, or if it would be someone else's shift tonight. He half-heartedly hoped that it would be someone else, so he wouldn't have to face the fact that he'd drawn the cute barista in a moment of boredom. The jingling of a bell and an anxious glance to the counter revealed a familiar kind face, which glanced up when the door opened.

"You again?" Phil said with a smile, and Dan smiled tentatively back in response. He was half embarrassed that it was Phil who was here, and half glad. Perhaps more than half.

"Couldn't stay away."

"And you can't stay awake either, without coffee, I presume?" Phil joked, already preparing a cup.

"You know me so well."

Phil cut to the chase this time, bringing Dan his coffee and sitting with him immediately. Dan sipped the drink gratefully, though he nearly spit it out as Phil spoke.

"Are you gonna draw me again?"

"W-What?" Dan responded, feeling the blush spread across his face, from the tips of his ears to the roots of his hair.

"I could be your muse," Phil said dramatically, whipping his head to the side and pursing his lips. Dan laughed nervously.

"I was just doodling..."

"It was a very good doodle," Phil said seriously.

"Narcissist," Dan quipped. Phil rolled his eyes.

"Have you thought of what to do for your project yet?"

Dan huffed out a breath. Way to suck the fun out of any conversation: mention school work. "No," he sighed.

"Maybe you should doodle then? See if anything comes to you?" Phil suggested.

And that's how, at six in the morning, Dan found himself surrounded by napkins, all depicting a different form of the man in front of him. There was a napkin with a picture of Phil's left hand, and a napkin of Phil's ear, and a napkin of Phil drinking coffee. Not to mention the napkin of Phil's eyes, which Dan had spent the longest on, trying to make them perfect.

Dan still had no ideas for his art project, but he had a new friend, one who was enthusiastic and encouraging and appreciative of Dan's art. And as Dan finally left the coffee shop to get ready for the day, he watched as Phil gathered all the napkins carefully, stacking them on top of each other.

—

"I'm starting to wonder if you're coming for the coffee or my charming self," Phil announced as Dan took a step through the door.

"The fact that you make good coffee is only a bonus," Dan replied, taking pride in the faint blush that appears on Phil's cheeks.

Phil doesn't even ask before preparing coffee once again. He doesn't ask Dan if he has any ideas for his project either, just let's Dan draw him without question. And though the anxiety and stress locked away in his chest builds, because he knew he was ignoring his responsibilities to draw a cute boy, he convinces himself to ignore it. Because for some reason he thinks everything will turn out okay.

—

"You're back," Phil said as Dan stumbled into the small coffee shop for the fourth night in a row.

"Yeah," Dan agreed absently, and then he leaned against the counter and threw his head in his hands. "I'm gonna fail," he groaned.

Phil nudged his arm with a cup of coffee, and Dan took it gratefully, and didn't even question the fact that Phil was always abandoning his job, his station behind the counter, for him. Although it wasn't like anyone else had come into the coffee shop the previous nights.

"No you're not," Phil said patiently, but Dan just shook his head at him.

"It's due tomorrow and I've done nothing. I'm gonna fail."

"You're a great artist," Phil starts, and Dan opens his mouth to interrupt, but Phil keeps speaking. "And you haven't done nothing. You've done lots of things."

"What are you talking about?"

Phil smiles and grabs his arm, and Dan tries to ignore the tingles shooting through his body from that point because he needs to concentrate and he's going to fail. But then they're standing next to their table, the one they've been sitting at the past few days, and it's covered in napkins. They're overlapping and intertwining and it looks amazing, Dan just can't figure out what it is.

"Wha—" he starts, but Phil's already speaking.

"It's all your doodles," he explains. "I glued them together— put them on a poster-board too, but you did all the work, really."

Dan took a step closer, and from here he can make out all the individual doodles, Phil's face and body, his legs and hands and torso and all the little parts and pictures of him that Dan drew.

"It represents unity, see? Together they form one big piece of art, even though alone they're just doodles. Good ones, at that."

Dan turned around abruptly, overcome with thankfulness and appreciation for this barista, this cute boy who was willing to listen to Dan complain and willing to let Dan draw him and willing to help Dan. And he strode forwards and gripped Phil's arm with one hand, before the other flew up and attached itself to Phil's jaw.

"Thank you," Dan whispered, and then he leaned forward, pressed his lips against Phil's, felt Phil's surprised gasp directly against his mouth.

Phil kissed him back, and he hugged Dan to him, pressed their bodies together as they panted into each other's mouths.

In that moment Dan knew only one thing, and it was that he had to find an application. Because he had to apply, had to work at the coffee shop with Phil, had to spend his every night tired but happy and with the cute barista, both of them with coffees in their hands.