[PHAN] Drunk Talks

Title: Drunk Talks
Author: stars / stultiloquent / stvltiloqvent
Pairing: danisnotonfire/amazingphil (phan)
Rating: PG for reference to sex
Summary: "do you think dan and phil used to get drunk and chill on the balcony back in manchester talking about life until sunrise"
A/N: this is unedited and unplanned, so i apologise for any mistakes i missed at 3am in the morning.
Disclaimer: None of this is real, I own nothing except for the plot, and as a great man named Mikey Way once said, don't Google yourself, people.

 

(source)

Phil used to make fun of me, tell me I’m an alcoholic because when I was in college, and him in uni, everybody drank at flat parties. And I was that guy that didn’t know their limit, and would get smashed and need help getting dragged home.

But I’m going to be a second-year in three months. The thought honestly terrifies me – second-year means I’m not just partying and having fun, I actually need to start looking for paid internships, and I’m not even sure if I’ve passed all my exams in May’s finals.

Summer’s just begun, the evening air is warm, and I’ve taken to sitting out on the balcony just to take my mind off of things. That’s how Phil finds me half an hour later, with a bottle of wine by my side, and another one unopened on the floor. It’s been a while.

This time he doesn’t make any witty remark about alcoholism. Hasn’t for half a year now. He takes the chair next to mine, and he takes the bottle, wordlessly, takes a swig.

“Whatever happened to bringing your own alcohol, huh?” I smirk, and he laughs.

“You didn’t even pay for this,” he retorts playfully. He’s right, and I can’t stop my grin creeping its way from cheek to cheek.

But I don’t have anything else to say to counter that. I’ve missed this, making casual banter with him, but my worries linger on the periphery of my mind, and I can’t think of a good joke. So I just stare out at the rest of the city, peering at other people’s homes from our vantage point.

We stay in comfortable silence for a while, just taking turns drinking from the bottle, but I know Phil can tell. He can tell something’s on my mind, and he’s waiting for me to broach the subject.

He’s the nicest person I know, and I’m glad I can call him mine.

When we’re halfway through the second bottle, I cut through our lighthearted conversation. I say, “Sometimes I just don’t understand what the point is, going to university.”

“I don’t really know what to say to that.” He leans back onto his chair, slouching a little. “Obviously we’re all set in the same path – we go through school, then university, and we get a job and get married after graduation – we were all given that one path, so we follow it. Also we were told that we all need a degree to earn a living, so we get one, too.”

“I know. But sometimes I just wonder. Because I don’t know if I’m going to make it to the second year. I’ll have my reentry exams, and yeah, I’ll have my second chance there, but that’s not a sure bet. And even if I get through to the second year, third year and I graduate – what am I going to do afterwards? You know, everybody knows, that I never liked law. And now I don’t even see the point in going back.”

“Dan.” He scoots a little closer, his chair groaning as it’s dragged across the wooden floorboards. “Dan, you shouldn’t give up right now. You got into one of our country’s best universities even though you didn’t revise enough for A-levels, and you got 2-1’s and first’s even when you hated the course – you’ve come so far already!”

“But it’s like I said – what’s the point in that? I’m just going to graduate and find a job that I’ll get stuck in, miserable for the rest of my life, and then at 40 years old I’ll have a midlife crisis – is that what it means to live? Because I know, I could be so much more than that. I know I’m just another mere human, a mere speck in this universe – I’m nothing in the grand scheme of things, but I owe it to my parents at least, if not God, and I want to actually live. I want a taste of everything our universe has to offer. I don’t want to just pass life knowing I could have been something more.”

Phil falls silent after that. Deep down he’s just as ambitious as I am, he shares the same wishes; I’m just crazier than he is, bold enough to voice my wishes out loud. But at the end of the day, we both know these thoughts are just that – thoughts. Mere wishes, never to come true. And we’ll drink to that, we’ll keep drinking until all of that bitter stuff is gone from the bottle.

But Phil, the little ball of sunshine that he is, he starts talking about this amusing documentary he saw earlier on the telly, just silly and meaningless things, and he manages to pull me out of my brooding thoughts again. He manages to make me laugh, and I’m so grateful he’s here with me. And this moment right here, just the two of us, secluded from the world, secluded from real problems on this balcony. It’s everything I could ever wish for. I want to stay here forever, but the sun is threatening to rise, coming up on the horizon, creeping along the skyline in the distance.

So I do what any sane person would do: I make it last. We retire to our bedrooms, but we end up in Phil’s en suite together, somehow. And we fall in bed the way our clothes fall off our body, and the sex is slow and languid just like I need it, trying to make it last. And I breathe out a barely-audible “I love you” as we finish together, and he gives me an answering kiss, and I want this to last forever.

In the morning we’ll roll out of bed lazily, 11-ish, and just lounge around the flat half-dressed until night falls again. Some boyfriends will go the extra mile and make bacon and eggs for breakfast in bed, but for us Kelloggs and milk is just perfect. I can’t be arsed to cook most of the time, and he can’t cook to save his life, and we’re both fine with that. And we might go out for dinner a few weeks from now, but I don’t think about the future. I don’t think about the day after the next. This moment is all I need, us curled up together on Phil’s bed, in this temporary Manchester apartment, and for now, I’m content.