prompt: Dan and Phil are both sons of rich families and are sent to ballroom dancing lessons. Because there is a shortage of girls, Dan and Phil end up as partners. Phil really doesn’t want to be there and Dan doesn’t either, but is so frustrated by the fact Phil doesn’t want to dance with him he is determined to get him to.
a/n: LISTEN OK THIS TOOK THE HUGEST SPONTANEOUS PLOT TWIST EVER I’M IN AWE HONESTLY WHAT THE FUCK WAS I DOING the ending of this was totally utterly completelyu unplanned it literally came to me about two hours ago and for some reason i thought it would be suitable to put in here so yes shit happens in this chapter hence why it’s so long
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Fifteen
Dan’s phone vibrates on the table, interrupting the dinner for the ninth time.
He’s forced by the glaring eyes of every member of his family, plus the visitors, to slide it out of sight and either shut it up by putting it on Do Not Disturb, or try to find out what the group chat’s talking about that’s apparently so important it needs his attention now.
But the last couple of messages haven’t come up in the form of a small red number beside the Power Squad’s name. They’re private messages from Max.
Max? Dan frowns. What does he want?
He’s suddenly interrupted by a sharp foot to his shin.
“Ow! Adam, you f-…” He manages to prevent disgracing himself (for the third time this evening) in front of his mother’s ‘highly important’ business partners, so he settles for a steady glare as Adam jerks his head urgently to the grey-haired woman sitting to the right of him, fixing Dan with an expectant stare.
“Daniel?” She prompts.
“Hm?” Dan pretends he hadn’t heard, hoping she hasn’t been trying to get his attention for too long while he’d been effectively ignoring her; wrapped up in his own life confined to a glow behind his phone screen.
“Mrs. Howell had just been telling me about Vienna.” She nods, raising her perfectly plucked eyebrows in an impressed manner.
Oh, fuck. Vienna. “Yeah, I-…” He trails off, spearing a bean with his fork thoughtfully. “I’m going to Vienna.” He adds unhelpfully.
“When is it you’re going, again?” She asks.
“Er- next week…?” He shoots a panicked glance to his mother, who rolls her eyes, sighing.
“The week after.” She corrects, giving the grey-haired woman an apologetic glance at her excuse for a son who can’t even get the date of his own trip right.
“That’s- that’s what I meant.” He rolls his eyes, expecting another kick from Adam accompanied by a giggle at his embarrassment, although when he glances up expectantly, he’s met with an indignant, confused expression.
Adam frowns. “How come he gets to go to Vienna?”
“He-…” Their mother shuts her eyes. “Has a name.”
“Sorry-” He corrects himself. “Why does Daniel Alexander James Howell-” Dan chokes on his mouthful of broccoli “-get to go to Vienna?”
She sighs, giving them both a stony glare of oh my god don’t you fucking dare show me up you brats before continuing.
“It’s an educational trip, Adam.” She takes a sip of wine, staring at him coldly through the rim of her glass. “It’s hardly a holiday.”
“You don’t say.” Dan mutters under his breath.
“What for?” Adam frowns.
“Ballroom.” Dan answers curtly, helping himself to more wine despite the hard glare shot over to him by his father as soon as he’d reached for the ice bucket. All the more reason to do it, in his opinion.
It’s Adam who nearly chokes on his food this time. “Oh, that’s precious.” He snorts, which earns him a kick on his own shin from the younger brown-haired sibling. “Ow, you little sh-”
“Boys.” Their father’s penetrating voice breaks their semi-fight as he shuts his eyes, giving one of the guests a forced, apologetic grin of i’m so sorry we’re related to them.
Dan’s mother rolls her eyes, turning towards the grey-haired woman in hope of giving her a more elaborate response. “It’s a visit to the capital city. They’re providing education on the history of the Viennese Waltz, and the class will be staying in the Hotel Imperial,” judging by the approving nod from the grey-haired woman, Dan’s safe in assuming it’s probably costing them a filthy amount of money. “-with an evening at the Schonbrunn Palace, a visit to the Museum of Fine Arts,” Dan has no idea what 'fine arts’ have to do with ballroom dancing, but whatever.
He zones out after that, obviously coming to terms with the fact his mother had a much more accurate idea of what his trip was consisting of than he did. That doesn’t exactly come as a surprise to him, considering the only time he’d touched the letter about it was when he was stuffing it in the bottom of his bag, expecting to keep it from his parents and avoid two weeks of Austrian hell. What he wishes he’d taken into account was the oh-so-handy emailing system they had in order to really fuck up his plan and make sure there was no chance whatsoever in possibly hiding the letter from his parents. He wishes he’d never given them their 'emergency email address’. If he talked and acted weird enough, he could’ve probably passed himself off as coming from a background still stuck in the 19th century culture who wouldn’t have any idea what an e-mail is, of course we don’t own computers what kind of ghastly idea is that, but apparently his craftiness had yet to improve.
He sighs, spearing another bean and glaring at it. He doesn’t even know if Phil’s going or not. If he is, Dan’s hopes lie with the possibility he might take a little break from his perpetually antagonistic, slightly obnoxious shell that he’d throw on every so often mid-conversation. He doesn’t understand it; between unpredictable snaps he’s easy to talk to, funny (Dan had survived many lessons with his teeth clamped down onto his lip in order to hide his laughter over something he’d muttered about Mrs. Weymouth’s haircut), and maybe even caring if he’s feeling generous enough to associate Phil with kindness and consideration.
And if he isn’t going, neither will Dan; they can keep their £3000 or however much the trip had costed them. With Phil, it’d be enough of a chore, but without him it’d be simply impossible. He’s the only sane one in the class.
Well, 'sane’ isn’t the right word, Dan decides. The way other classmates avoid him would be pretty explanatory in proving how 'normal’ he is. But he’s the only one Dan has enough in common with, therefore sane or not, he’ll be the only one Dan reckons he can stand being around for a fortnight without running amok.
“Well judging by the fact you’re going to one of the best cities in Europe, you don’t half look delighted about it.” Adam mutters, as Dan realises his thoughts had probably been souring his expression over the quiet minutes.
“I’m not.” Dan mumbles bluntly, glancing up at Adam.
Their mother rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you won’t be saying that once you get there.” She lets out a fluttering, false laugh at the kind of joke mothers would make while reassuring their five-year-old children on the first day of school. That’s almost what it feels like for Dan, though. “You’ve made some friends in your class, haven’t you?”
“A few.” Dan mumbles monotonously, not in the mood to go on another rant about Saintsbridge, oh my god how can people attend that hell of a school, and I thought Welfeather was fucking bad, how are the people there even human honestly with that huge ass forest behind the school how the fuck do they resist the urge to escape, and whatever else had been muttered between him and Phil in the corner of the ballroom.
He hopes Phil can count as more than one person for now.
“What about your partner, is she going?” His mother asks, and Dan sighs, dropping his fork onto the table with a quick clatter at her ignorance.
“He.” He glares at her, and a brief, agonisingly awkward silence spreads amongst every guest sitting around the table.
“Hm.” His father frowns at him through the rim of his Martini glass in a manner that almost makes Dan want to stand on the table and scream about how it’s not my fucking fault oh my god go speak to the teacher if you have that much of a problem with it you fucking homophobes but he figures in the current circumstances that idea might have to stay in his imagination. If he does that and his mother loses his job, he knows exactly who the blame will be dumped on. He settles for a steady glare, gulping down the remaining wine before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Daniel!” His mother gasps, her eyes widened with outrage at such a disgusting gesture. “Use your napkin, for pity’s sake.”
He ignores the neatly-folded fabric to the left of his plate, and instead carries on the discussion that, in all fairness, his parents had started.
“Yeah, me and Phil get on really well.” His eyes glitter, and it doesn’t take long for Adam to catch on, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a grin that matches Dan’s.
“Phil and I, Daniel; do speak properly.”
“Soz.” Dan mutters deliberately, and Adam cough-laughs into his drink.
“Oh, Phil’s a nice guy.” Dan manages to catch Adam’s subtle wink as he jerks his head up inquisitively at the older boy’s silence-breaker.
“I’m sure he is.” Their father mutters curtly, fidgeting
“He is, isn’t he?” Dan agrees loudly. “Shame some people are so narrow minde-”
“So, Robert.” Their mother interrupts in a voice of a penetrating volume, turning to the suited man on the right of the table who hadn’t talked for a good half hour before the Howell brothers began taking over. “Tell me about the average of the income your business is receiving this year? Is it a good year so far for them?”
That’s the last Dan recalls of their obviously thrilling conversation before he zones out completely, too wrapped up in his own thoughts and concerns to even start another loud, passive aggressive conversation with Adam about how embarrassingly hostile their parents are towards the shocking, unforgivable sin of Dan dancing with another male.
Reacting like that at only the idea of him him dancing; and only dancing, with another guy, makes Dan wonder how many heart attacks they’d suffer if they were to walk in on him and Ryan during the early hours of the morning. That’s what Dan calls ’certainly more than dancing’.
In retrospect, it’s what he’d call ’certainly more than friends’, too. But now he’s not so sure.
-
He excuses himself, and his parents don’t need to be asked twice to let him go (if anything, it serves as a reminder as to why they tend to keep him as far away from dinner parties with guests of importance as they can), escaping to the peace of the lounge he and Adam have claimed. By the absence of empty Coke cans and Kettle Chips packets previously strewn across the sofa, it looks as if Audrey’s given the room a once-over.
“At least you’re getting your money’s worth.” She pokes her head around the door, noticing Dan grinning slightly at the marginally tidier room.
“Thanks.” He nods, flopping onto his sofa and whipping his phone out.
Messages (245)
Jesus Christ. Dan shuts his eyes forebodingly. That’s the last time he ever leaves the chat for more than half an hour.
He ignores the heated debate over who would win in a fight between Patrick Star and Zayn Malik and taps straight onto his private messages with Max.
max: have u fucking died or what
dan: yup
max: FINALLY
max: where have u been i almost had to resort to phoning you
dan: why omg i was only having dinner
dan: and I wouldn’t have heard
dan: if my phone made another noise I think my father would’ve stabbed me
max: hofjdskskkn
max: how much did u disgrace urself in front of the hamiltons
The Hamiltons. That’s what they’re called.
dan: you remember their name better than i do wtf
max: i retain info well xxxx
dan: i can tell
dan: is that all you came to talk to me about
dan: my evening with a bunch of snobs
max: pfffft
max: u do fuckin ballroom dancing and They’re the snobs
dan: we’ve been through this smh
dan: as if i begged my mum for weeks to go to those fuckin classes Yes Snobbery At It’s Finest <3
max: i wanna see u dance omg
dan: take the snob thing back then
max: ;))))))
dan: omg i hate u
max: love my fans !
max: anyway stop sidetracking me
max: i did come here for a reason
dan: i’ll believe that when i hear it
max: ok fine
A couple of moments pass, and Dan stares at his phone expectantly, wondering whether Max had dropped his in the toilet mid-text or something.
dan: u have a nerve to nag at me for late responses
max: it’s been two seconds give me a chance smh
dan: two seconds too many <//3
max: do u know what’s up with ryan?
Dan freezes.
dan: what do you mean
max: cmon u know him better than all of us put together
max: u must’ve twigged somethings up
dan: well yeah he has been acting up recently
dan: but fuck if i know what it is
max: he hasn’t told you??
dan: nope he sighs.
dan: so he’s been acting up at school as well?
max: well yeah
max: he still stays with us in the common room and stuff
max: but he never turns up to lessons anymore
dan: he never did that anyway
max: no but i mean
max: he literally Never turns up anymore
max: it’s not just a one off thing
dan: oh
dan: okay
dan: and he wont speak to any of you about it??
max: nope
max: well i mean i’ve tried a couple of times
max: but he just dismisses me
max: there’s no way i’d get anything out of him
dan: er
dan: idk if trying to go see him will make any difference??
max: u stand a better chance than any of us with getting something out of him
max: it’s worth a try
dan: idk
dan: i’ll let u know
dan: if he ever fuckin answers his phonE
max: lol just turn up
Dan’s unsure about that. None of them know about his and Ryan’s argument last Friday.
dan: i might Dan lies.
max: keep me in the loop
dan: ya will do
He can’t tell if that’s a lie or not, too.
-
“Phil-…” Dan comes to a halt, breathlessly weaving through the milling crowd of coffee-drinkers in search of the empty bench the farthest away from anyone, with only one occupant.
Phil snaps his head up from his phone, eyeing Dan up and down judgingly. “I didn’t know you joined the Cross Country club.”
“Thanks.” Dan rolls his eyes, flopping down beside him. It’d only taken a matter of time for him to get used to Phil’s perpetual sarcastic sneers, although his shy grin tells him there’s something fond about it.
“So why do you look as if you’ve just sprinted for 900 miles?” He frowns, sliding Dan a side-glance.
“I missed my alarm.” He mutters, playing with his cufflinks and adjusting his messy collar.
Phil snorts. “Did the Chauffeur disappear again this week?”
“Oh no, he was here.” Dan replies airily. “I’d probably end up in fucking Norway if I were to find my way here alone.”
“I can well believe that.” Phil chuckles. “So what was the hurry?” He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dan so eager to see him.
“I needed to ask you something.” Dan nibbles his lip after regaining some composure.
“Fire away.” Phil shrugs nonchalantly.
“Are you going to Vienna?” Dan asks.
Phil glances up. “Vienna?”
“Yes.” Dan’s uneasiness grows. “The trip next we- the week after.” He corrects himself.
Phil glances up blankly. “That’s to Vienna?”
“Never-mind where it is.” Dan shakes his head urgently. “Are you going?”
“Well my mum mentioned something about it but-…” He pauses in disbelief. “Vienna? As in Vienna Vienna?”
Dan breathes a sigh of relief, allowing himself to relax a little. “As opposed to a 'fake’ Vienna?” He frowns.
“A Tesco value Vienna.” Phil giggles to himself, and although it’s the weakest joke Dan’s ever had the misfortune of hearing, he finds himself cracking a shy chuckle, too.
“Where did you think we were going, then?” Dan asks.
“Not abroad, for sure.” Phil widens his eyes. “I was expecting some kind of shitty residential holiday somewhere in the coast.”
“This isn’t a school trip, Phil.” Dan scoffs. “We’re going to that Imperial Hotel or some shit.”
“Isn’t
that where celebrities and royalty stay?” Phil frowns
sceptically.
“Probably.” Dan shrugs.
“Jesus Christ…” Phil mutters under his breath. “That’ll be fun.”
“I’m counting the days.” Dan adds sarcastically.
“When even is it?”
“I’m not too sure.” Dan chuckles shamefully. “I know it’s sometime next week but-…” He trails off cluelessly.
“I didn’t even get the letter.” Phil admits, and Dan takes it as an explanation as to why he’d spent the past week thinking it was in the wrong country. Granted, Dan didn’t exactly study the letter carefully himself, but he had enough knowledge of where it actually is they’re going.
“What were you expecting, then?” Dan narrows his eyes. “Just to hop on a coach and be surprised?”
“I guess.” Phil giggles shakily.
“Nice.” Dan rolls his eyes, reluctantly standing up along with the surge of the class towards the door, holding his hand out to help Phil up.
Phil smiles shyly, standing up beside him and giving Dan’s hand the tiniest squeeze that he probably wouldn’t have even noticed if his mind had been occupied with any other thoughts at all in the exact same moment.
Dan keeps his eyes to the floor. He’s getting worse at hiding his grin.
-
The lesson goes quicker than Dan had been gearing himself up for, and when he spares the giant mahogany wall clock in the corner of the ballroom a glance, he finds himself almost disappointed there’s only five minutes left.
“Good posture, good posture-…” Mrs Weymouth nods slowly, inspecting both of the boy’s stances as they concentrate their rhythmic paces across the polished wooden floor. “I’m impressed this week, I must say.” She sniffs, hitching her thin-framed glasses a fraction higher up her nose.
Phil waits until she’s occupied with congratulating Shaun and Lisa on their terribly brilliant work today, before raising his eyebrow in surprise of his own.
“Do you think we’re getting better?” He mumbles, glancing down at the shorter boy.
“It’s a step up from you standing on my toes all the time.” Dan chuckles. “I was right in assuming tall people are clumsy.”
“I’m clumsy?” Phil raises his eyebrows. “Who tripped over my leg and fell face-first into the pillar?”
“That was ages ago.” Dan flushes scarlet. “And it was one time, unlike the abuse you give my poor toes.”
“You sound like that character on Mean Girls.” Phil chuckles.
“There’s a point- at least I didn’t make out with a hot dog.”
“But you are clumsy.”
“So are you.” Dan narrows his eyes.
“Okay, okay; we’re both clumsy.”
“There we go.” Dan nods.
“At least we’re both as bad as eachother, though.” Phil adds after a short quietness.
“Maybe that’s why they paired us together.” Dan thinks.
“We suit eachother.” Phil muses. “In that sense, I mean.” He adds quickly, keeping his eyes to the floor.
“We do.” Dan agrees, edging his hand further into Phil’s grip. “You’re about to drop my arm.”
“Oh.” Phil notices, taking Dan’s hand into a better clasp.
They continue to circle their section of the room in a gentle waltz.
“We have improved a little, though?” Phil pipes up.
Dan grins softly. “Yeah.” He glances up, meeting Phil’s eyes in a shy gaze. “I think so.”
And if it’s not his imagination or delusion deceiving him again, Phil’s little hand-squeeze returns.
-
“Do you have a ride home?” Phil grabs his coat as they walk towards the door.
“Nope.”
Dan says, feeling for his phone in his pocket. “I’m giving the
Chauffeur a break.”
“It sounds like he has enough of them
already.” Phil widens his eyes, but Dan notices the grin playing on
his lips.
-
They take the route thought the park, despite it being longer it’s considerably more scenic than the busy streets of central London; swapping the fume-filled roads covered in congested traffic for greenery, weird shaped trees, wooden benches and peace.
“Do you even know how to get back home from here?” Phil asks.
Dan rolls his eyes. “It’s literally 10 minutes away from my house, I hardly need a map.”
“Just checking, Dora the Explorer.” Phil mutters playfully.
“Anyway, I almost know the route back from the ballroom by heart, now.” Dan flips his hair sarcastically. “My navigation skills are through the roof.”
“Just reverse that on the way there, and you won’t end up in Norway.” Phil jokes, kicking a solitary stone.
Dan doesn’t laugh in response. He doesn’t grin, smile, or even respond at all. He doesn’t move.
Fuck.
Phil pauses, noticing Dan’s strange paralysis before trying to follow his frozen gaze over to whatever is happening on the other side of the road they’re walking alongside, and he freezes himself as his eye is caught by a particular figure slumped on a bench, his emerald eyes penetrating the busy atmosphere around him in search for what Phil thinks is probably Dan.
Ryan.
“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck-” Dan mutters, shutting his eyes and ducking, his lack of height a huge advantage right now. “Phil, hide me, I-”
“Oh my god-…” Phil says in a gleeful laugh, his eyes glittering menacingly as he grabs Dan’s arm and tries to pull him towards the other side of the road. “This is going to be brilliant.”
“No, no, Phil- I-…” Dan tugs his arm back. “Please, I-…” He nibbles his lip timidly. “I don’t want to…”
Phil hesitates as soon as his eyes lock with Dan’s and the flicker amidst the dark irises is what can only be detected as true fear, and he drops his grip.
“Okay, we’ll-…” He thinks quickly, suddenly ducking behind a silver car. “We’ll wait here until he’s gone, if you want.”
Dan relaxes, the previous anxiety swirling hotly in his stomach subsiding. “Thanks.” He exhales, leaning his back against the cool metal of the car as he sits on the pavement, Phil mirroring his position.
“It’s fine.” He responds, running a hand through his hair and resisting the burning temptation to jump on the bonnet of the car and start screaming manically at Ryan about how much he doesn’t fucking deserve someone like Dan oh my god, although he settles for keeping his mouth shut. There’s no way Dan would believe him over Ryan, and Ryan wouldn’t exactly admit to it.
“Out of all the fucked-up scenarios I play in my mind, I must say I never thought I’d be hiding behind a car with you, Phil.” Dan chuckles after a couple of silent minutes.
“Neither.” Phil giggles weakly, sighing into the car door.
A handful more pass, and Phil’s impatience begins to get the better of him. He hauls himself up on his knees and peeking over the edge of the bonnet. “It’s been ages, d'you think he’s-”
He’s cut off with a sight he doesn’t know if he’s horrified, or delighted to see is happening right in front of him. His stomach drops, and he freezes, unable to respond or even finish his sentence properly.
“Do I think he’s what…?” Dan frowns suspiciously.
“Never mind.” Phil mumbles quickly, his face draining into a shade of whiteness Dan didn’t even think was possible to be achieved through human skin.
“What?” Dan shuffles forward, kneeling up himself. “Is he gone, or-”
“No, he’s- Dan- get down-…” He grabs Dan’s arm in a fleet of panic, desperately trying to save him from being exposed to the truth, despite having been praying for it for fuck knows how long.
“Why, I-…” Dan freezes suddenly, his widened eyes and half-furrowed brow letting Phil know that he’s probably- no, definitely seen.
Ryan, whose arms had been wrapped around Dan less than a week ago, were now locked around another stranger’s waist, delicately caressing his sides as he pulls him in for another kiss, shutting his eyes, consumed in utter bliss as his lips peck against the unidentifiable boy’s, his hands making their way up to his dark hair.
“Wh-…” Dan exhales shakily, the image hitting him straight in the pit of his stomach like a concrete fist. No. That’s not Ryan. That can’t be Ryan. Ryan wouldn’t-
“Dan-…” Phil gently nudges him, edging himself up until he’s standing.
“No-…” Dan tries to shrug him off, still staring after the two boys on the bench as if blinking multiple times would erase the image burning into the back of his mind forever, instead of doing the complete opposite. His heart thuds sickeningly, and Phil notices he’s shaking.
“Dan, trust me, just-…” Phil sighs, anger boiling in his blood at the boy on the opposite side of the road who still had yet to notice them both. “Stand up.”
“That’s-…” Dan stutters between trembling lips. “That’s-… no. That can’t be-…”
“I’m not going to let him get away with this.” Phil grits his teeth. “Trust me.”
Dan glances up at Phil as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen the older boy in his life.
Phil holds out his hand, settling for gentleness.
A couple of hesitant moments pass, before Dan gives in, shutting his eyes and gripping Phil’s hand, letting himself be hauled upright.
“Do you want him to get away with this?”Phil asks once they’re standing up and if Ryan just fucking looked up from the disgusting boy’s lips he’d actually realise what Dan had just sat through.
“No, but-…”
“Then follow me.” Phil orders, and although Dan would rather saw both his legs off and roast himself on an open fire than follow Phil and interact with Ryan, there’s something about his icy stare that’s- well, it’s comforting.
It’s almost trustworthy.
“Fine, but-…” Dan sighs deeply.
“No buts.” Phil clears his throat loudly, giving his knuckles a productive crack. “Do you want to show him how it feels?”
“How?” Dan frowns.
Phil holds his hand out, his gaze tentative, and gentle and Dan doesn’t know why but suddenly he’s trusting Phil, Phil of all people, and gives him his hand. Phil takes a second, but their fingers are suddenly laced together in a romantic clasp and Dan’s heart is thudding again because he dreads to think what Phil has in mind.
But he trusts him.
They walk across the road, and Phil clears his throat louder, keeping his head high until he’s certain Ryan and mystery-boy have stopped their vomit-inducing public makeout session and have caught sight of both of them.
They continue walking for a couple more paces, until they stop by a lamp post which Phil leans against, detaching their fingers and cupping Dan’s hand with his cheek.
He slides Ryan a side glance, and fuck yes he’s seen them both.
“Right…” Phil exhales, and Dan’s heart is beating so fucking hard it’s beyond him as to how it hasn’t burst out of his chest yet. “Promise me something, Dan.”
“What-…?” Dan stutters shakily, although glancing over at Ryan’s newly-horrified expression is enough to send a shimmer of victory down his spine in the midst of his shattering heartbreak.
“Promise you won’t punch me in the face for what I’m about to do.” Phil mutters hotly, caressing Dan’s cheek agonisingly gently.
“Wh-”
Phil cuts him off suddenly, shutting his eyes and pressing his lips against Dan’s in a messy collision exactly the same fashion that Ryan had thought it suitable to be displaying for the world to see in the middle a park.
Serves him fucking right. Phil thinks as Dan’s lips co-operate with his, surprisingly passionate in a manner that sends Phil’s own heart into sudden hyperactivity.
A couple of moments slowly pass, and it’s almost as if they’ve both forgotten why they’re doing it.
But neither of them want to stop.