Hey guys! Haven't posted in a while, so here you go! BTW this is NOT the last chapter! I lied! The next chapter is the last! I already have it finished, and if I get five votes or five comments, I'll post that one tonight too. If I don't, it'll be up by monday. It's all up to you. PS DONT FORGET I LOVE YOU BECAUSE I DO AND YOU ARE A WONDERFUL PERSON DON'T FORGET IT!
Dan’s POV
The next morning I was jostled into awareness by an incredibly excited Phil.
“Mmm... What time’zit?”
“It’s seven thirty. Come on! We have things to do!”
“Kay.” I yawned, rolling over onto my stomach; or, attempted to. I ended up rolling onto the floor instead. “Mmf!”
Chuckling, Phil helped me up. “PJ and Chris are already ready. Come on!”
Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I tugged on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt. “Where are we going today?”
“We’re talking about it at breakfast. Now hurry!”
“I am.”
“Well do it faster!”
~
Phil’s POV
Breakfast consisted of eggs, bacon, toast, waffles, fruit, and basically everything you would find at a hotel anywhere else. Rather disappointing, really. But then, with the amount of indian food I knew we would be eating today, it probably was a good thing. Anyway, after breakfast we decided to go to the Lodi Gardens.
It was absolutely gorgeous; there were beautiful trees, flowers, and bushes everywhere. And adorable little stone benches. We had come at just the right time; the flowers were in full bloom, and the weather was just cold enough to be comfortable without being too chilly. We took pictures and walked around for around a half an hour before Chris decided he was hungry.
“Come on! We have the chance to try quality indian snacks! We can’t miss this!”
All of us being perfectly fine with this turn of events, we walked quickly over to the snack stand and ordered banana chips and some pakora. As the lady started gathering our order together, Dan decided that he had to yawn. Loudly. And I’m pretty sure everybody thought he was dying or something. What happened next proved my theory correct.
“Oh my god, is he alright?” some American tourist asked.
I blinked. “Uh... Dan, are you alright?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”
The American stared at us. “Then what the fuck was that?”
“He, erm, convulsively yawns? It’s, ah, a genetic disorder?” I said, attempting to keep my face straight. Oh, Dan was gonna kill me later for this. I just hoped it was in a good way. If you know what I mean.
“You’re a genetic disorder, Phil.” Dan scoffed.
“Am not! If anyone here’s a disorder, it’s Chris.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Chris asked, looking vaguely amused and offended.
The American seemed to be startled, so she scurried away. After finishing our food, which was delicious, by the way, we decided that perhaps a crowd wasn’t a good idea this early in the morning and decided to change our schedule a little. Instead of going to the street market first, we would go to a Sikh temple.
As we blundered down the path toward the temple, Dan had somehow found a pair of scissors. While he terrorized Chris with it, I noticed a sign with the words “Gurudwara Bangla Sahib” on it, along with some rules/information.
“Guys, I think we have to take off our shoes, and.... Cover our hair?” I said.
“With what?” PJ asked.
“Scissors.” Dan inputted helpfully.
“No, we need to actually cover our hair, Dan.” I sighed.
“We could use our shoes to cover our hair.” Chris suggested.
“Great idea, Chris, thanks.” PJ said sarcastically.
“Or, you know, we could just buy the hair thingies they’re selling over there.” I said.
“Well, yeah, we could, but where’s the fun in that?” Chris wondered.
I wandered over to the vendor, allowing PJ, Chris, and Dan to continue debating the worthiness of shoes as hair nets.
“Hello, um, could I have four of those turbany hair net thingies?”
“Of course.” the woman said. She was Indian, but she had almost no accent. I wondered how that was, as they probably got tourists from everywhere, not just the UK, and it wouldn’t really make sense for her to have a british accent. As she bundled up the THNT’s (That’s Turbany Hair Net Thingies, for those of you who didn’t get it), she asked, “So where are you from?”
“Hmm? Oh, London. I’m on vacation with them.” I motioned backwards to Dan PJ, and Chris, who were now chasing each other around.
“They’re, uh, lively.”
“That’s a good way to describe them. I usually go with insane myself.”
The woman laughed. “It’s good to see someone horsing around, as long as they aren’t actually inside the building. They used to have toys out here, and all the children would come out to play, but then some of the tourists said it was distracting them, so they had to take it away.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It is,” she said, handing me a bag with the THNT’s, “but I suppose that’s just how some people are.”
I nodded. “I guess. Well, thanks.”
She smiled. “No problem. Tell your friends I said hello.”
“I will.” I said, walking back to the trio. “Hey guys, I got some of the hair net turban thingies.”
“Cool! I call the purple one!” Chris yelled. “I’m Professor Quirell!”
“They aren’t turbans, they’re head scarves. Technically.” PJ said.
“What do we do with our shoes?” Dan inquired. “Because I’m sort of wondering now.”
“There’s a shoe place inside where we can leave them.” I replied. “At least, I think.”
Dan shrugged. “Let’s go.”
~
After dropping our shoes off at the “Shoe Minding Service”, we went into the temple. It was beautiful. Dan seemed to think differently. “It’s just a giant white building with gold things.”
“Yeah, but it’s a pretty giant white building with gold things. Besides, it’s a temple. So we can pray or something. With Sikhs.” Chris whispered, being helpful for once.
“Think of it as a learning experience.” said PJ.
Dan snorted a little, but he stopped complaining after that. We looked around, did some Sikh-y stuff, then decided to go to the Chandni Chowk street market.
As we strolled out of the temple, Dan started fumbling with his turban-sorry, head scarf. “God, it won’t come off!”
I sighed, helping him untangle the piece of cloth from his head.
“Thanks, Phil.” he said, smiling goofily. I grinned and quickly kissed him on the lips as PJ and Chris made barfing sounds.
Dan turned to them and stuck out his tongue. “You’re just jealous.”
PJ laughed. “Of you? Pfft, no way.”
Dan smirked and said “I wasn’t talking about me.” He waggled his eyebrows and looked suggestively at Chris.
PJ’s and Chris’ gazes met briefly before turning back to Dan and Phil. Suddenly Chris rested his hand on PJ’s face and said, “I will accept you for who you are, PJ.”
“Erm...” PJ stuttered, “I really don’t know how to respond to that?”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Good response.”
Chris pouted, then laughed. “Come on, then. We can be completely hetero life partners.”
“Uh?”
Dan and I looked back and forth between the two. “Not to interrupt the moment, you two,” Dan said, “But I want to go buy things. So come on.”
“I WAS HAVING A MOMENT WITH PJ.” Chris said loudly.
“AND I WAS HAVING A MOMENT WITH PHIL BEFORE AND YOU INTERRUPTED SO GET OVER IT.” Dan shot back.
“I JUST WANT TO BUY SOMETHING.” PJ added.
“Guys, look, there’s food.” I said, hoping to distract them. It worked; their heads whipped around.
“Where?” they chorused.
“See that vendor over there? It looks like he’s selling food. Now let’s all quiet down and stop acting like five year olds, and we’ll go eat food then buy things.”
“Okay.” Chris sighed. PJ and Dan nodded in agreement. The food was delicious. It was some type of bread with curry or something. I honestly couldn’t tell, or pronounce what was messily scrawled on a board in front of the vendor. It was still awesome, though.
We wandered through the crowded market, attempting to ignore the shouting street vendors. “Phil!” Dan tugged on my arm. “Over there!”
“What?”
“It’s a flute! I bet I can play a flute.”
“Actually, that’s a recorder. Flutes go off the the side.”
“Same thing.” Dan said, tugging me over to the small shop as Chris and PJ looked as some incense.
“Fine, sure.” I sighed, following him. Dan immediately began to inspect the wooden instruments.
“What about this one?” he asked, holding up a deep burgundy colored one.
“I have no idea. I’m not an expert in recorders.” I replied. “It looks nice, though.”
He nodded, picking up another one and comparing the colors. “This one looks more elegant, don’t you think?”
I took the recorder. “I don’t know, I’m sort of liking this one.” I pointed to another.
He blinked, pouting slightly. “So many choices!”
I chuckled. “Well, we can get two. I’ll get one, and you can get one.”
Dan picked up the burgundy one again. “I like this one.” he decided.
My eyes roamed over the wide expanse of wooden recorders. I plucked one from the basket, then glanced up at Dan. “This one matches the color of your eyes.”
He placed a hand to his heart. “I am so touched, Phil.” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. The image was ruined when a bug flew into his mouth and he began to cough. Then he really did have tears in his eyes.
“God, that was disgusting.” He continued gagging. “But seriously, that is sweet. I think.”
“Why thank you, Daniel.” I replied. I handed the man behind the counter thing a five hundred rupee note. With a practiced hand, he quickly wrapped the two recorders and put them into a brown paper bag. Dan grabbed it and we went to go find Chris and PJ.
“Where’re they?” I wondered. I stood on my toes and glanced around, trying to pic out the familiar curly hair of PJ and dorky mop of Chris’.
Dan glanced around. “D’ya think they’re hiding from us?”
“Doubt it.” I said rather distractedly. “It’d take to much time away from shopping. You know how much they both love souvenirs.”
After a moment, Dan tapped my arm. “Found them!” He pointed toward a rickety little structure leaking smoke.
“Please don’t be buying drugs.” I murmured. “Please, please don’t be buying drugs.”
They weren’t buying drugs. Technically. It was incense, and most of it was just good smelling spices, but there were a few types that were guaranteed to help you converse with “otherworldly beings”. Basically, they made you hallucinate. Thankfully, both of them went for the harmless, yummy smelling sandalwood incense.
“What about tea?” Chris asked, tugging on PJ’s sleeve like a pouty five year old.
“What about it?”
“I want teaaaaaa.”
“There’s tea back at the hotel.” PJ responded.
“Yeah, but... But it’s not the same!”
“I’m sure we can find some tea somewhere.” PJ consoled him.
“How about we go tea shopping tomorrow at an actual tea place?” I suggested. “It’s getting late anyway, and it’s been a while since we’ve made a video. We could head back to the hotel, film for an hour or two, then head out for some food and survey the night life.”
“Sounds good to me.” PJ agreed. Dan nodded too.
“Fine.” Chris relented. “But you’re paying for my tea because of the wait!”
“You would have made me pay for it anyway.” PJ pointed out.
“You would have done it willingly. You know you can’t resist me.”
PJ snorted. “Right.”
“Well if you two are done,” Dan said, “Let’s go.”