Tagging Phan Because They Didnt Today.

as a country lesbian:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

this shit is gonna be on my mind for weeks. thanks for making me want a girlfriend YET AGAIN ms. roan.

everybody say thank you chappell roan!

❤️🧡🤍🩷💜

gay pirates curing my artblock right in time for the finale to hit me like a truck

friend wrote this and im the proofreader so yk it's good fr

Take A Chance On Me (Revised) — Chapter 1 💋🥂

exclusive tumblr preview!! this fic has been on and off consuming my life for like 6 years now? so it means a lot to me. i would love any feedback anyone is willing to give. also, i plan on starting to post this on ao3 once i have a good chunk of the chapters written so i can be ahead, as well as work out some plot things. enjoy! story and tags under the cut!

Chapter One: A Favor

Chapter Notes: THE POSTING OF THE REVISION HAS BEGUN. enjoy, and remember i use he/they for PJ, and in this chapter, they/them for dan <3

-

Rain poured onto the concrete in a merciless downpour, hitting the glass windows of the coffee shop Phil was currently seated at.

Wet shoes squeaked against the tiles of the room, which Phil could only assume were PJ’s. He didn’t even need to look up to confirm—the person was sliding into the booth across from Phil, pulling his bag off of his shoulders and setting it down beside them.

"There you are,” Phil said.

PJ's voice was wheezy as he blurted out, "Sorry."

His eyes drifted from the trails of rain falling down his friend’s forehead, and instead to the watch on his wrist, tugging his sleeve back to look at it closer.

“It’s fine,” he said, “It’s not like I had to ask Marianne to fill in for a meeting or anything.”

“Shit,” PJ sighed, shaking his head at himself.

“You’re good. I wasn’t looking forward to going anyway, at least now I have a reasonable excuse,” Phil said passively, watching PJ suddenly lighten, bursting into a smile.

"Good, good, now I know I was late, so let's just get to the main thing I want to chat about," PJ said, "I need your help on a job decision."

"Let's hear it," Phil said, and tugged his sleeve back up, watching the waitress come by. They each ordered themselves a coffee and began to talk.

"So, I have been looking into a management position," PJ started to explain, "It will be at a new...hold on."

PJ magically pulled out a map of London from his bag, making Phil crease his eyebrows and tilt his head.

"There are two bars that are being merged together," he pointed out, "This one…”

“You’re wanting a new management position…at a bar.”

“I’m not done yet!” PJ cried defensively, eyes practically begging Phil to continue paying attention.

Trying to make sense of the map, Phil watched as PJ's fingers moved across the smooth paper. The streets twisted and turned mindlessly around, buildings aligning them in all different shapes and sizes.

"And this one. And a new club is going to be right...here," they made a circle with a pen.

"Right next to the station?" Phil asked, "Really?"

"Yeah," PJ replied, "It's a big building, and I guess something happened to whatever was there before. They say it will be much easier to visit, blah blah blah...I honestly think it might just be for tourist attraction."

Phil studied the map, "And the two older ones?"

"Probably being sold to be made into more new apartments no one can afford," PJ sighed, "Anyway, not the point."

A loud whip-like sound made Phil jump as he saw PJ place down another large piece of paper, which appeared to be blueprints.

"So these are the plans for the new club," PJ continued as they spread out the page, “It will be called...The Cat and Bear."

A waitress' red lips were pursed as she placed two mugs of coffee down onto the paper, PJ yelping and picking up coasters to put underneath them. She apologized awkwardly and walked away, but Phil thanked her, picking up his mug and sitting back against the booth.

"The Cat and Bear," Phil repeated, sipping his coffee, “That’ll stand out from every other ancient pub in London.”

"This is the entrance, right?" PJ asked to check if Phil was listening. Their fingers danced across the paper as they emphasized every detail. He uncapped a marker, labeling each part of the building with symbols and letters as they spoke, "Bathrooms are here, in the front, and there's some in the back...and then there's..."

"What is the actual job part, PJ?" Phil asked with a chuckle.

The sweet taste of coffee burned Phil's tongue as PJ looked up with his creativity shining through his captivating eyes, a look not unfamiliar to Phil in the slightest. He kept explaining a whole lot more, then asked, "Are you following?"

"Yeah, yeah," Phil said as he placed his mug down, "But what is the position you are looking for? And that huge empty area you haven't marked yet?"

PJ grew a smile from ear to ear.

"Stage production."

"Stage production," Phil repeated, his tone unsure. "There's going to be a job for stage production. At a bar."

"Not just a bar, a club...well, a burlesque—kind of—club," PJ corrected himself as more papers went flying across the table again, "Hear me out. They need someone to manage the production—backdrops, stage materials, lighting, music, and I'll kind of be like an agent to the performers."

"And who is it that will be performing?" Phil asked.

"Drag queens!" PJ yelled excitedly.

PJ and Phil looked around the diner to see a bunch of people staring at them.

"Drag queens," Phil said, sounding unamused.

"I'd get to manage all of the theater tech geek stuff," PJ explained, "And the queens. So, what do you think?"

Phil deeply sighed and widened his eyes, picking up his mug and taking a long sip.

"Your professional opinion," PJ requested.

Phil cleared his throat and said, "My professional opinion is no."

PJ took the first sip of their coffee, cringing at how the liquid had gotten cold from ignoring it.

"No?"

"No," Phil repeated, then shook his head, “Since it’s new, you can’t do any research on things like their profit history, turnover rates, company policies…the closest would be some Linkedin stalking of any execs or investors you know for sure are involved in this new business. You said they're merging, so there's probably going to be rivalry, and...no offense, but they're drag queens, so…”

Phil clenched his teeth and cringed, finding it hard to be brutally honest to his friend.

"I know it may be risky, but..." PJ reasoned, "I need to be creative, Phil! Feel like I’m in charge of something like you are! This nine to five office job isn't good enough anymore."

Phil rubbed his jaw as he spoke, "I wouldn't recommend it, Peej. How much money will you be making?"

"Not much, from the beginning..." PJ admitted, "But it'll get better, don't you think, Phil?"

"I dunno," he muttered.

PJ pouted, looking off as they said, "I really want to do more creative stuff. Something new and fun. Particularly audio and video...but managing actual performers will be cool too, like in the movies."

"Well, this is London, Peej," Phil chuckled, "Not Hollywood. I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but you asked for my opinion, and I gave it to you."

"How much was this actually related to your career?"

"Not much."

"Okay, then why don't you do more of your career?" PJ asked, Phil looking offended for a second, "Sorry mate, not what I meant. I meant, do more of your thing...can you look into the business and economic part of it? Do some of your PR magic, see how good the people I'll be working with are?"

"Fine. I'll call some people, get some data, and let you know."

—

Both for PJ’s sake and because his company happened to be doing markedly well, Phil invested in The Cat and Bear, which nearly secured PJ for the position with little question of their qualifications. Other executives saw that he had a close connection to another successful company, and thus boosted his chances of being onboarded.

The club was due to be finished in the middle of summer, the project shortened by resources provided by Phil’s company. He’d maintained a more hands-off approach with the venture, trusting that PJ and/or any of his own employees would inform him of any issues. In May, PJ convinced Phil to visit The Cat and Bear to show him around.

From the outside, the club was completely finished, but once they entered, Phil could see where there was still room for improvement—many places lacked paint, flooring, and furniture. The sparse decorations made the interior look like a sad fixer-upper, but at least the bar, stage, dressing room, and bathrooms were built.

"Welcome...to The Cat and Bear," PJ said dramatically, opening the door for Phil to enter. Phil nodded, walking in and looking around as PJ followed behind him and asked, "Why are you all dressed up, mate?"

"I'm technically working," Phil explained, looking down at his clothing. He compared his business casual outfit to PJ's fully casual outfit, a graphic tee and colorful jacket, curious to ask, "Will this be okay?"

"Don't worry about it, you're just going to be the only dressed up one here," PJ told him. Right as he said so, Phil noticed the only people around them were construction workers, painters, and other people busy on their own tasks. They were installing lights, painting walls silver, pulling up old flooring—so much was going on at once.

PJ gave Phil a lengthy tour of the place, getting especially enthusiastic when showing him how the stage lights and curtains worked. He let him backstage to see the dressing room and where his office was, with cardboard boxes already on the desk.

"Sophie is supposed to come help me decorate soon," PJ told him, "This office, I mean, I'm not sure about the dressing room, but probably. She’s around here somewhere.”

"Have you met any of the queens yet?" Phil asked curiously.

PJ sighed awkwardly, "Uh, no, actually."

"Peej, you guys open super soon!"

"I know, but I kinda just picked the queens that were already planning on transferring here. Some of them moved closer to different clubs, on the other side of the city, or back home, I guess. It’s not the time to be picky, according to some other talent managers I’ve talked to," PJ said, "I've made a Facebook group and talked to a few, and that's about it."

Phil sat down on a chair in front of PJ's desk as they continued to talk, allowing him to ramble about his excitement for this new job and all of the ideas they had planned, until they heard a knock at the office door.

"Come in," PJ called out.

"Mr. Liguori?" the person called out in a silly tone—definitely Sophie. She peeked her head in the room, a pencil resting on her ear. “Oh, hi, Phil.”

“Hey, Sophie,” Phil greeted, then gestured toward PJ, “The ‘Mr. Liguori’ is here.”

PJ just laughed, “What’s up?”

"Um, the queens are here?" Sophie said matter-of-factly.

"Shit!” PJ seethed, looking at his watch, “It’s time already?!”

What a great manager PJ already was.

"That's no problem though, I'll go—um—come on, Phil," PJ said, “Looks like you won’t be the only dressed up one, then!”

Phil followed behind him into the open area right in front of the hallway. There stood a group of performers, and as they gossipped and chatted, Phil looked over the small crowd.

One of them specifically caught his eye. She—or Phil should probably correct himself to say they, because he truly didn’t know—were wearing a pretty, brunette wig, hair cascading down their shoulders.

From only a few moments of staring, Phil picked up on a warm, inviting energy they had. When they laughed with their friends, an adorable, deep dimple paired well with a bright smile, lighting up the room so effortlessly.

Phil hated that he was so far away from them.

PJ then clapped his hands together, looking around the room. It temporarily swayed his attention, but the underlying magnetic pull towards the brunette was hard to distract himself from.

One of PJ’s new employees, Phil reminded himself, so stop ogling at…the most beautiful one of the whole group? Yes, Phil confirmed with a darting of his eyes across the crowd, they definitely were.

"You all look absolutely stunning," PJ said, earning a bunch of claps, thank yous, and a couple shouts of "I know" that made him chuckle.

Phil had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed Sophie and some other employees following behind them. He stepped off to the side to give PJ the floor, but more so to make it less obvious he was stealing glances at the brunette any chance he got.

"Hello, everyone. Forgive me, I lost track of time. I figured I should introduce myself. I'm PJ, the manager of stage production and talent. Most likely, I was the one you’ve been in contact with about working here. And this is Phil.”

Phil awkwardly waved. Some of the performers seemed to give genuine waves, while others gave more silly or sassy ones. The brunette had a bit of a smirk on their face, waving elegantly.

“His company has been our biggest supporter in the process of getting this club open. He is our biggest investor, so let’s make sure that we return the favor and work hard to give our thanks for all the resources he’s provided,” PJ said, and the performers clapped and waved at him.

“We'll still go ahead and take promotion photos for the website today, and I'll be creating us an Instagram page as well," PJ said, "Later on, I’d like to have a professional headshot session with everyone as well, so stay tuned for that, but this is mainly just to get media coverage for our opening weekend.”

The performers all nodded, continuing to give almost all of their attention to PJ. Phil’s attention, however, was fixed back on the brunette, who had joined in on the casual glances. They were wearing a mesh dress with long sleeves and an abstract pattern. Their friends were trying to whisper to them, but they continuously shrugged them off.

As he looked around at the group again, Phil realized that he was a bit envious of the confidence they exuded. After the effort of a drastic change, it was at a level he didn’t think he’d ever personally reached before.

It was reassuring that it was a safe space for everyone to feel like they could be as unique, queer, or weird as their heart desired, their appearances showcasing the most genuine aspects of themselves. But Phil felt out of place, intimidated by their larger-than-life personas.

Phil wasn't confident. Not really. He was clumsy and awkward, and he’d probably injure himself or someone else if he ever tried to walk in heels. Maybe he'd like makeup, but he had no idea where to start or how to steady his shaky hands. The queens did it all with such precision. His application would be messy and uncoordinated, it wouldn't look nice on him the way it did on them.

And it looked really nice on one in particular. Phil hoped his staring wasn’t obvious, but almost couldn’t help himself.

“Believe it or not, there are some places on the lot with good lighting for photos, and we brought some equipment, too. Sophie and I will be the photographers, while others can look out for minor tweaks. Alright, let’s get started!”

PJ took their camera from Sophie and arranged everyone in different places around the club, specifically the few completed areas. To Phil’s surprise, a few of the performers went up to shake his hand and thank him. Phil was able to reciprocate the greeting, but found himself in a daze. The performer he was interested in was one of the first to be photographed, which prevented him from greeting them. He could stare at them modeling all day, but to keep his composure, he tried to simply exist in the same room.

Phil awkwardly stood off to the side again, finding it easy for his mind to wander.

It seemed like PJ would be occupied for a while, and realistically, he didn’t have any reason to hang around. But if he could find a reason…

“Hey, Peej?” Phil asked, walking up to him as he was nicely directing an employee to move something out of the way. “Do you need me to help out with anything?”

“Oh, did you have anything at work you needed to attend to?”

“Not currently, no.”

“If you could get Soph and I coffees?” PJ said more quietly, mindlessly adjusting camera settings.

Of course it had to be something that required him to leave.

Awkwardly, Phil answered with, “Oh. Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Other than that, I think we’re good. Thanks for coming by.”

He glanced at the one performer one more time before leaving to get their coffees.

The reaction to this season could be summarised as:

Fandom decides to be deliberately obtuse about how stories and three-act-story structure works.

Guys, even YouTube videos explain how stories work, will tell you this magical phase:

The couples often break up in the second act.

Remember the homework Neil sent about watching P&P? Okay, think very hard and remember... What happened in the second act of that story?

It's not queerbaiting, you are just allergic to conflict, honestly.

I literally work teaching children and yet I think the kids are less obtuse about things than this fandom. And if I am talking to you are it's because I am repeating, many times, that you need to cool off and think before you go for your pitchforks to the writers for obeying basic rules of storytelling.

Take A Chance On Me (Revised) — Chapter 2 💋🥂

PART ONE | word count: 7872

part two of my test run for this fic!!! slowly but surely i have been working on this story as well as managing college :D i only want to post it on ao3 once i have fully ironed out the plot wrinkles and get well ahead on writing. slightly unrelated fun news: i might (probably) be pitching a scene from this fic for a SHORT FILM PRODUCTION. CAN YALL IMAGINE HOW FUCKING COOL THAT WOULD BE?!? NO BUT SERIOUSLY IMAGINE IT.....if it makes big waves, i can be like "this was originally a phanfic lol B)" and WHAT IF DNP SEE ASOFVJFJIOSFFSJ anyway,,,,

please leave feedback if you feel so inclined. i love this universe with all my heart and any help expanding it is greatly appreciated<3 tags + story under the cut! (PS: tags are for the story as a whole, this chapter does not include smut)

Phil barely had enough time to adjust his shirt collar before getting dropped off in front of the completed Cat and Bear. Only months ago had he first gotten involved in the project, and he had  a surreal feeling seeing it come to fruition. 

An impressive line trailed out of the front doors, the club goers being checked and regulated by a few bouncers. The muffled music was pure noise, lyrics and notes indistinguishable. Lights  flashed like they had minds of their own, colorful and sporadic illuminations across the street. 

To avoid stirring his nerves up any further, Phil sent PJ a quick text that he’d arrived.  

He checked his watch to see it was fifteen minutes before the show was supposed to start. God, that seemed too close. He was waiting in line with the last minute outfit he’d picked out, since last time PJ told him he had dressed much too formal, hoping that the line would move quickly.

As though Phil's thoughts had summoned them, PJ was bustling through, there to make sure he didn’t have to wait in line like everyone else. They guided Phil through the doors, informing him that he could enter through the back employee entrance if he wanted.

The music was louder inside, and while Phil expected it, it didn’t stop him from wincing upon first entering. The bass of the music felt like it was cutting through his skull. He blinked, adjusting to the sound, then looked around to survey the completed area. There didn’t seem to be any sort of show going on yet. The bar had plenty of people sitting on the stools, the few tables on the opposite wall of the stage were all full, and groups of friends leaned against the walls to talk.

“You good?” PJ asked Phil, who stood awkwardly in place once PJ had stopped moving.

“Uh…yeah, it’s just loud,” Phil yelled over the music, nodding as he looked around.

PJ chuckled, “It’s a club, Phil! I gotta go, but make sure you get your tip money from an ATM. Cheers!”

“Tip money? Wait, Peej—“

PJ was lost in the crowd, making his way back behind the employees only hallway and presumably towards the dressing room.

Meekly, Phil retrieved cash from an ATM, thankful that there were multiple employees hanging around the area. After tucking the money into his wallet, he went up to the bar and ordered water with a lemon.

Looking around, the club’s walls were mainly black with silver diagonal stripes, colorful LED strips aligning them like a movie theater, and various tables with sofa chairs or booth seats. Some people wore body glitter, wigs, and eccentric makeup, while others wore more casual clothing like Phil was.

Phil squeezed the lemon into his water, not yet in the mood to actually drink something. He tended to not do so, only at a work party or friend’s party, on the rare occasion he was invited to something—drinking alone felt pathetic. He didn’t even know for sure if he owned any alcohol at the moment.

It’d been a long time since he’d done anything outside of work. But Phil liked working. He liked his coworkers and his steady, often easy going job. Many would call it monotonous, but Phil appreciated the routine, which rattled his discomfort to the newness of the club scene he was surrounded with. His business casual clothing felt out of place, stitched with too much formality to fit into the environment.

The show was supposed to start at 9, but it was nearing 9:15 when Phil checked his watch again. 

He watched a few younger guys with the logo of the bar on their cropped shirts usher audience members to back away from the edge of the stage. It was early in the night, which seemed to make them easier to manage. Then, finally, an announcer yelled through the speakers.

Phil looked around, deciding whether or not he should get up and get closer, the crowd looking daunting.

“You can keep your seat if you want. The performers will be walking around a lot,” a bartender said, walking over to his area, “Can you see okay?”

Phil turned in his stool to say, “Yeah.”

The bartender took the time to neaten up the counter space around him, pausing to look at his unsure expression.

“First drag show?”

“Oh…uh…yeah, it is,” Phil replied to them.

Phil could see that the bartender was dressed completely goth, with dramatic makeup and fluffy hair. They stomped behind the counter in platform shoes and made people’s drinks as easily as breathing. 

“You’re not gonna have any fun being so tense, just enjoy the show.”

“Right.”

“And you don’t seem like the type of guy to do this, but I tell everyone...don’t touch them unless they invite you to.”

“Got it, thank you,” Phil said, holding out his hand then looking at the bartender’s name tag, “Mars?”

“Yeah, Mars,” the bartender smiled and shook Phil’s hand back, “I use they/them pronouns, by the way. Your name?”

“Phil,” he said simply, then followed up with, “He/him. And speaking of pronouns, what should I call the drag queens?”

“She or they is fine for most of them,” Mars said, “I haven’t met all of them, but it’s always safe to use they. And you can always ask.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

As soon as he turned back around, the lights went down in the club and people crowded around, cheering and watching the performers of the night grace the stage.

His eyes went back and forth to take it in. All of them were very tall, especially with their heels and platforms on. There were four in total that were going to be performing, and they all lined up—posing, smiling, and waving to the crowd. 

It was hard to hear exactly what the queen hosting the show was saying, but Phil assumed they were announcing the stage names and making jokes, based on how the crowd was reacting.

He wondered how long PJ was expecting him to stay. Mentally, Phil had a timer for how long he could tolerate social interactions like this, especially ones at such a high capacity like at this club. He almost started plotting out his plan to leave, until he realized.

The brunet.

They were performing tonight.

The speed of Phil’s heart seemed to increase as he took in everything he saw—they wore a pretty, long, black sparkly dress, and the straps were super thin. On their head was a large wig—waves of deep brown cascaded down the back across their shoulders, looking soft to the touch. Heels made them super tall, and they seemed to be gazing out at the crowd, hands on their hips in a confident stance.

Their choice in makeup looked gorgeous on them. Shiny, silver eyelids with smokey liner and shadow, deep maroon lipstick overdrawn, bright platinum toned highlighter on their nose and cheekbones, and dangling earrings hung from their lobes.

For a second, Phil’s focus trailed off, and he imagined dancing with them later into the night. Why was he already going so far as to daydream about the person? He didn’t even know how to fucking dance, and they hadn’t even…looked at him.

As if reading his mind, they looked right at him. Undeniably and curiously, the performer looked at Phil. They even made eye contact for a second, the fleeting look bringing warmth into his cheeks.

Alas, the brunet covered the striking stage lights from their eyes and peered closer at Phil.

—

The performances of the others admittedly passed in a blur. Phil still tipped them, of course, and sang along if he knew the songs they were lip syncing to. He caught a few of their names, but quickly learned that the mystery brunet he had interest in was Daniel Howell.

Whether or not that was a stage name, Phil was curious. But his attention was soon drawn away from the thought when they came up to perform to Nasty by Janet Jackson, seemingly the last show of the night.

Daniel had changed into a sleeveless black leotard with ruffles. Their collarbones and shoulders were being shown off as they ran their hand across them, wearing black glittery nails. With a smile, Daniel poofed up a perfectly styled wig, long and flowy brown with volume as they stomped across the stage with thigh high black boots. They posed with their hand up in the air, pulling a sassy face.

Phil was mesmerized throughout the whole song. The world felt like it was in slow motion, the only indications that time was actually passing were from the synchronized movements Daniel made, following the beats like they had rehearsed them to perfection. Like a magnet, the spot light was on them, casting a shadow of a beautiful silhouette onto the stage. 

They knew how to use their body—shaking their lips or their ass, stretching out their legs, back, and arms, sliding across the stage so elegantly. And not just the stage—they even grabbed onto the rods of the truss, using it as a steady prop to dance against. 

Conveniently, Daniel was headed towards him during the bridge of the song, stomping like the world was their own. It was a stark contrast to how Phil felt, intimidated by the loud music, scantily dressed people, and the ease at which Daniel moved. Phil’s hands trembled to open his wallet, a problem he hadn’t encountered with any of the other performers. He flipped through quickly, in search of the highest cash bill he had to offer—a fifty. 

Fuck, they deserved way more, he was sure of it, but there was no chance in hell he’d be able to get to the ATM in time. All he could do was hope he’d get to meet with Daniel later, and hope that the fifty he waved in front of them wasn’t insulting.

As soon as the note caught their attention, Daniel’s eyes went wide and their smile beamed. Phil felt his heart skip a beat. They graciously accepted the note, making sure to pay attention to him as they added it to a wad of tips.

Swaying their hips and holding Phil’s hand gently, they looked into his eyes—Phil’s heart was soaring, his legs were shaky, his cheeks were amber. Daniel brought Phil’s hand up to their lips to place a kiss on it, which left a lipstick print, then slowly pulled away, tickling him with their painted black nails as they stomped off. 

Biting his lip, Phil watched Daniel’s hips move back and forth as they stepped back up onto the stage. After finishing the song with more gracious movements of their beautiful body, they placed the wad of tips in the plastic tub that one of the workers at the bar took to the back, aside from the fifty pound note, which was stuffed into the top of their costume. Daniel pulled it up over their chest, their bottom lip sucked in and eyes casting a wink towards Phil.

—

At the end of the show, all of the performers were back on stage, each of them holding a shot glass. The host introduced the performers again, Daniel being last in the announcement. 

They awkwardly smiled as the attention was on them. PJ had taken photos of each performer with a professional camera, and the other queens encouraged Daniel to pose. After a few pictures, someone handed them a microphone.

“What, why—okay, fine, I’ll talk,” Daniel said, “Thank you everyone for coming out tonight! We appreciate you taking the time to check us out, and uh…let’s try these shots, hm?”

Phil smiled awkwardly, less focused on what Daniel was saying, but instead the soothing nature of their voice. The performers took their shots, coughing and grimacing afterwards, making Phil chuckle a little.

“What the fuck is that? Battery acid?” one of the queens coughed. Daniel threw the drink back, making a similar face.

“That was strong, bloody hell,” Daniel complained, then sarcastically said, “I mean, it was lovely! Very enjoyable! Everyone should go to the bar.”

When the crowd was silent, they spoke again.

“Seriously. Go get a fucking drink or I’ll lose my job,” they scolded in a sassy tone, making everyone laugh.

Phil still hadn’t drank anything besides water. A worker came by to pick up the empty shot glasses from the performers, and then Daniel was talking again.

“Thank you to everyone for coming. We appreciate everyone’s support. And be sure to get a ride home if you are intoxicated,” Daniel said cheerfully, then waved at everyone as they left the stage.

The host had a bit more to say, then music started to fade in, gradually rising to a high volume. Colorful flashes replaced the stark white stage lights that had been on for the past hour.

Normally, Phil would have left by then. If it were any other social event, he wouldn’t have been more than eager to head out and get to bed. But he couldn’t just leave without talking to Daniel at least once, he still had their lipstick on his hand.

Their lipstick. Fuck.

Phil definitely needed to address this new revelation he’d discovered about himself. He couldn’t, realistically, recall a time ever in his life where he found himself attracted to people who usually wore makeup. Questions about the validity of his label—one that had comforted him for years when he accepted it and lived his life as it—suddenly struck, and fuck, he needed something stronger than water. Something with more taste so he could at least attempt to get his shit together before he got a chance to speak to Daniel.

“Hey Mars, could I get…like, any fruity cocktail you have?” Phil asked when the bartender had a moment. Soon, a cold, tangy drink was in front of him. He took his time being mindful about each taste, deciding that there wasn’t really anything he could do at the moment to fix his worries about his identity. 

That meant he could at least enjoy the night, but it also meant that the issue would be looming above his head until he did do something about it. But what was it that he wanted to do? Take another ‘Am I Gay?’ test and see if the results had changed since he was fourteen?

He’d have to remember to bring it up to his therapist. He had more important things to do, like figuring out how to strike up a conversation with Daniel, somehow.

As he took a sip of his drink, Phil was tapped on the shoulder. 

“Hey.”

Phil nearly choked, seeing Daniel standing behind him, smiling goofily.

“Can I sit?”

“Um, hi,” Phil greeted, blushing and setting his glass down, “Of course, go ahead.”

Daniel’s grin was bright and welcoming as they sat on a barstool beside Phil. They glanced down to Phil’s hand, seeing their lipstick print still on the back of it. If they had any thoughts, they didn’t say them out loud, but their knowing look said a thousand things.

“I, uh, wanted to thank you for the tip. I know you’re one of our investors, but you’re also one of PJ’s friends, right?”

“Mhm,” he introduced himself, “Phil Lester, the boring businessman friend.”

“I wouldn’t say boring. You’re cool enough to come to a drag show,” Daniel noted, pushing the hair of their wig over their shoulder, “How long have you been friends with PJ?”

“A long time,” Phil answered, “Since university, and I’m old, so it’s been a while.”

Daniel smiled, but soon squinted and gave Phil a look over.

“You don’t look that old. You’re probably, what, thirty…four?”

“Seven.”

“Okay, I was trying to be gracious, but you look a lot older than seven, mate,” Daniel teased, making Phil laugh and blush a little, “Thirty seven’s not old, though. Only a few years older than me.”

“Older than a lot of the people here,” Phil mentioned passively.

“And yet, not the oldest,” Daniel reassured, then ordered themself a drink titled The Princess, which was quick to arrive on the counter in front of them.

Phil had the urge to mend the break in conversation. He awkwardly apologized, “I’m sorry I didn’t tip enough.”

“You gave me a fifty pound tip, you spoon,” Daniel reminded Phil as they sipped from their straw with a wide grin, “That’s a big tip for a drag queen…aaand that’s what she said.”

Phil watched the crinkles of Daniel’s eyes as their loud, boisterous laugh filled the immediate area. He loved when a person could laugh at their own jokes, and god, their laugh was contagious.

“Did you enjoy the show, Mr. Lester?”

Phil blushed at Daniel addressing him so formally, giving them a pointed look as he replied, “Just Phil is fine, and…it was…my first show.”

“That’s not what I asked, Phil,” Daniel quipped, sipping their drink.

They really enjoyed teasing him, huh?

“O-Oh, I mean—“ Phil stuttered, “It was great. A lot to take in, but extremely impressive. Especially yours…you’re a really good dancer. I was, uh…like I said, worried that the tip wasn’t going to be enough.”

“Not enough? Hell, there have been times in my life where I was thankful for someone to give me ten pence! Let alone fifty quid!” Daniel exclaimed, then did a hilarious impression of an old English woman begging for ‘shillings’, which had Phil doubling over with stomach pain.

“When I say thank you, I mean it,” Daniel clarified afterward, “It’s very generous, and no, you do not need to worry about that not being enough, it’s plenty.”

Phil nodded, not quite sure where to carry the conversation next. He was a fucking public relations master at work, why did suddenly putting an absurdly pretty person in front of him cease his abilities to none?

“I…I like your hair,” Phil said, then mentally slapped himself in the face at how ridiculously pathetic that was to say.

“Oh, this old thing? Yeah, I haven’t worn her in a while, but she’s usually good about not giving me a headache at the end of the night, so I thought, why not?” Daniel replied, very interested in the wig on their head for a few moments, but it gave Phil a break from being looked at by someone he found intimidating. 

Phil couldn’t believe that the same person he’d had his thoughts dwell to since the weeks he’d first visited the bar was sitting right beside him. Surely he was dreaming.

“Does it actually hurt?” Phil asked.

“I mean, it’s glued to my fucking head,” they answered, “And if the wig is heavy, and it’s been a long day, then yes, it can give me horrific migraines.”

“I get bad migraines too. I sometimes have to wear my glasses even when I don’t want to, or try these weird treatments. It sucks when the majority of my interests revolve around a screen.”

“Right?” Daniel added, “Wearing heels can give you blisters, washing too often can give you infections, not cleaning your brushes enough causes weird skin outbreaks, tucking too long can give you aches in the weirdest places. Drag is not for the weak.”

Phil nodded, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Okay, so I picked up on the thing about the wig, the heels, the washing…what’s the last one?”

“Oh, dear.”

Daniel rested their cheek on their fist in curiosity, taking the liberty to explain—well, ruin—something for Phil. He felt wildly uncomfortable after that, but still laughed through it, not expecting himself to be hyper aware of his own crotch so early in front of Daniel.

At least Daniel found it funny, having to grip onto the counter for dear life so they wouldn’t tumble to the floor with how hard they were laughing.

“I don’t know anything about drag queens,” Phil admitted once he finally caught his breath, “PJ’s told me a little bit, but I don’t know most of it.”

Nodding, Daniel said, “I can tell. Ask away. You have one right in front of you.”

“Are you sure?” Phil asked, “I do, actually, have more questions…but I’m sure you have more important things to do…”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Daniel assured, “I've been asked some of the most personal, invasive questions that the English language offers, so don’t worry about offending me, either. Not many things can offend us, anyway. And you don’t seem like the kind of guy to ask weirdly personal shit.”

“Okay. Uh…why drag?”

Smiling, Daniel looked down at their drink, “Mmm…a lot of reasons. Channel my creativity, find ways to showcase my interests and passions in a really unique art form. I actually really enjoy the activism side of it, too. I get to live a different life for a while, outside of the one I usually live. Like, she—“ they gestured up and down their whole body as they spoke, “Doesn’t have to worry about any of the other shit happening in the other version of myself’s life, you know? And this persona gives me a lot of confidence. I’m a Gemini and I was a theater kid, so of course I picked a job where I can get paid for playing a character.”

“That…makes sense,” Phil said.

“She’s not entirely a character, but she’s definitely a higher, better version of myself. I get to choose to make a political statement one night, an art piece the next, make people laugh, or literally if I want to just feel sexy, I’ll throw on lingerie. It’s like making myself into a Barbie doll. But that’s my personal story. If you want a general consensus, because I know you’re more of a business-y type,” Daniel said, pointing at Phil and nearly poking his nose, “You aren’t gonna get one. Drag is very personal. Everyone is going to have their own reasons and intentions behind what they do. If anyone says they’re in it for the money, they’re either lying, or a bad performer. No one in their right mind is in this for the money. They’re in it because they absolutely have to express themselves, so they don’t go crazy.”

Phil nodded, finding their answer absolutely fascinating. He could tell how much it all meant to Daniel, by the way they talked about it so passionately with both admiration and genuine truth. 

“Not to say that we don’t greatly appreciate money and aren’t greedy little rats half the time,” they joked.

“You’ve…insinuated it doesn’t pay well?”

“Mmm. Complicated answer to a complicated question,”  Daniel replied, “In the beginning, it didn’t. Then I made more of a name for myself and started making money, went through a period where I wasn’t but we don’t need to talk about that, and now I’m here. Blessed and booked, honey.”

“Oh, so you have to work a lot to get to a good place…money wise?” Phil asked. 

Daniel nodded and said, “Oh for sure. Whenever I first started, it was a new gig every night. Spent quite a lot of them wondering if this would ever be sustainable for me, and there were two years I basically performed for free, but I kept at it and I’m here today. This is the main source of income for me, but sometimes I go work other places.”

“Sounds a lot like climbing the corporate ladder, I’ve been there. Internships are terrible, in case you were wondering.” Phil joked, intentionally rolling his eyes to emphasize his distaste, “So do you work as often now? I’ve found I have to work less as I’ve kept working my way up.”

Daniel laughed, taking a sip of their drink as they teased, “Doesn’t seem to stop you from working all the time anyway, Philly. I’ve seen you prancing about here in your suits.”

Phil could only blush at that. The pet name, the call out, the way they were arching their back to lean against the countertop. It was all so…enchanting.

“But yes, I work a lot less these days. Luckily, I don’t have to do double bookings much anymore. Weekends of course, but Mondays and Tuesdays are usually when I’m not working. Even then, a lot of the time I’m rehearsing for shows, writing standup, getting fittings for costumes when I can afford it or have a special occasion coming up. Miss Daniel is very high maintenance, I’ll tell you that much. What days of the week do you work, hm?” 

“Uh, weekdays,” Phil said, still being awkward and anxious for some reason. He didn’t know why, the only reason he could pinpoint was that he was subconsciously wanting to impress them. “Nine to five, mostly.”

“Interesting,” Daniel said with a cheeky smile.

Phil’s initial thought was that no it fucking wasn’t, but it was nice of Daniel to pretend they were actually that interested. He played with his hands on the table, suddenly feeling a bit more shy, “It’s not that interesting, actually. I like the routine, but it’s much more boring than your job, Daniel.”

They nodded, a smirk growing as they replied to Phil.

“That’s okay. By the way, most people call me Dan, but you can call me whatever you want,” they purred, emphasizing with a few flutters of their lashes and a bite of their lip. 

Okay, they had to know what they were doing.

Phil felt thankful he’d invested in the dim lighting this part of the club offered, hoping that the ones illuminating from around the counter didn’t give away his fluster. Still, he tried to match their confident, unwithheld ability to flirt, wondering what he’d done to have Dan redirecting the tone of conversation.

“Dan, okay,” Phil watched them smirk, “Can I ask you another question, Dan?”

“Fire away.”

Phil still felt awkward asking even though the bartender had said it was okay. He disregarded the itching feeling of embarrassment under his skin and asked, “What are your pronouns?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you wouldn’t know. Sorry, any are fine. I’m not that strict about it. I’m just kind of like a…formless blob,” they answered, punctuating with a small smile, “She is fine to use while I’m in drag. And, just so you know, he is fine when I’m not in drag…if the rest of the night goes how I intend it to.”

Phil didn’t know what sensation was more glaringly obvious, the flare of heat in his face or the tightness in his abdomen. 

“A-Alright,” Phil stuttered, trying to catch up with the missed beats, “If I ever get it wrong just tell me.” 

He genuinely did care about Daniel’s pronouns, but the overwhelm of club ambience paired with intimidation had him struggling to maintain eye contact.

Dan chuckled, “I will. What are yours?”

“He/him,” Phil replied.

“Got it. Can I ask you a question this time?” Dan asked, smiling coyly as they played with one of their curls.

Phil watched her fingers, completely fascinated. Looking at Dan’s eyes for so long was starting to get overwhelming.

“Go ahead.”

“Why haven’t you drank for real yet on this fine evening?” Dan asked, playfully bouncing a curl. It sprung back towards her face, then she was coiling it around her finger again.

“I’ve had this fruity thing,” Phil fakely pouted, only now noticing how full his glass still was. 

“Oh come on, you’ve had like two fucking sips,” Dan giggled, “Let loose a little.”

“In truth, I’m a bit of a lightweight,” Phil blushed, having admitted it.

Dan cackled, placing a hand on his shoulder briefly to tease, “Aw poor, Philly. That’s okay, it happens to the best of us. Least you can have a good time for twenty quid.”

Phil shrugged, biting back a smile, “May I buy you a drink?” 

“Pour moi?” Dan jokingly gasped, “Are you trying to get me drunk instead? I’ll have you know I’m basically a professional heavyweight drinker. I’d be five hundred pounds deep if I actually wanted to feel something.” 

Phil laughed at that, relaxing some, “Well if you want a drink despite that, I’ll still buy you one…we can…call it an opening night gift?”

“If you insist, Mr. Lester,” Dan said, batting their lashes and pushing hair out of their face. The Princess drink was empty, so Dan lightly scooted it towards Mars who took it as they walked past. Dan nodded at them as a thank you. As it happened, Phil momentarily envied the smoothness of the action, trained gestures from years of doing so. 

“What would you like, then?” Phil asked, plucking a drink menu from nearby and trying to gracefully hand it to Dan.

“Hmm...I would like…” her voice trailed off as she looked down at the drink menu. They only glanced for a moment before looking up at Phil and poking him in the shoulder, “For you to pick.”

Phil froze, looking with concern, “What if you don’t like it?” 

Dan chuckled, waving a hand dismissively.

Phil began reading over the menu, overwhelmed by the neverending list of options. Dan then placed her hand over one section, making Phil look up at them. For a second, the thought occurred that Dan wanted to hold hands, but surely he was reading that incorrectly.

“What? Why do you look so scared? I’m only covering the whisky because I don’t prefer those,” Dan chuckled.

“There’s a lot to choose from is all…” Phil hesitated, not looking up from the menu. His hand tapped the table beside where he was anxiously reading.

Dan placed a gentle hand on top of his, “Relax there, bub. It’s okay. I like all of the drinks.” 

Phil exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding, then asked, “Do you like…Bloody Marys?” 

“Oh yeah,” she mused, “That’s a good choice. I like the shrimp and vegetables they throw on top here, it’s a good little snack.”

Phil nodded as the bartender came by, and he ordered Dan’s drink. Dan removed their hand from Phil’s, grabbing the menu and tucking it back in the nearest bar organizer. Phil missed the touch as soon as it was gone.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” she giggled and teased, “Sorry to overwhelm you, though.”

Dan turned their head to silently watch the bartender in action. Once Dan’s drink was placed in front of her, she ordered a drink for Phil, too.

“You didn’t have to get me one,” Phil whined a bit, feeling guilty. 

Dan ignored him, making a couple of hand gestures to the bartender before the drink slid across the counter.

“Well, you may not be trying to get me drunk, but I never said I felt the same way about you,” Dan said with a wink, curling a strand of hair with her finger again. Phil’s cheeks began to burn, and he took a sip from the drink that was fucking strong. He tried to play it cool, but Dan could clearly tell he was uncomfortable.

Dan giggled at his reaction, reaching out to rub his side. Their tone was lighter as they said, “You don’t actually have to drink it if you’re seriously not comfortable with it. I don’t want to overstep, but I also want you to have fun, Philly.”

“I am having fun, it’s okay,” Phil smiled at her softly. It was nice that they actually cared about making sure he felt comfortable, Phil had had far too many experiences where he felt his boundaries were overstepped, especially at clubs. It didn’t feel that way with Dan at all though, which he was very grateful for.

He admired Dan as they ate some of the vegetables from the top of their Bloody Mary. It was then he noticed Dan’s hand still on his side. Dan looked unbothered for a moment until Phil watched her realize it, too—causing her to slowly retract her hand.

They sat in silence, eating the toppings of their drinks for a moment, giving Phil a moment to think. He really appreciated Dan taking all the time to answer his questions, not expecting to feel so welcome in a place like this. Usually, Phil didn’t enjoy going to clubs this much. He typically found them loud, smelly, and a sensory nightmare. 

Phil twirled his straw in his drink, before looking up at Dan, who was already looking back before he had even looked up. It took him by surprise, but he said what he was thinking anyway, “I didn’t expect this to be such a nice experience, honestly.”

Dan’s brow furrowed slightly, but her smile didn’t falter as she asked, “How so?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be this nice,” Phil admitted.

Dan chuckled, tilting her head in an adorable confusion, “Me? Or drag queens in general?”

Phil shrugged a bit and asked, “Is both an option?”

“I…think it can be,” Dan replied, smiling at him softly, “But it’s good to know that’s how you feel about me. Hopefully you’ll find the other nice things I have to offer.”

Before Phil could fully react, another queen approached them. They wore a blonde, slicked-back wig, and Phil had only briefly seen them dancing whenever he needed a break from being intimidated by Dan.

“Danny! Come dance with us!” they exclaimed. 

Dan’s confident, sarcastic persona resurfaced so that she could tease her friend. 

“Well hello to you too, A’Whora,” she yelled back to the queen, who was barely wearing anything at all.

Phil thought it was very interesting to watch Dan be able to switch up their personality so quickly. It was a talent that Phil definitely did not have.

The queen stomped over to scoff, “Don’t start with that, I’m just trying to make sure you aren’t being lame!”

“I’m having a conversation, if you couldn’t tell,” Dan sassed, flipping their hair for dramatic effect.

“Bring the hunk, too! It’ll be a good time!” the queen replied, wiggling their eyebrows at Phil before strutting back to the dance floor.

Phil chuckled lightly, half out of awkwardness, and half because he genuinely found it a bit funny.

Dan turned back to face Phil, “I’m so sorry about her. I promise you, she’s really nice too! Would you want to go dance with me?” 

Phil felt nervous at the proposition, “I don’t really know how…” 

“I used to be terrible too, it’ll still be fun!” Dan said, and okay, maybe her smile could brighten the darkest of rooms and, quite possibly, convince Phil to do something as embarrassing as dancing in public. 

Phil was having a very difficult time with the thought of telling that smile no. He pondered for a moment, taking a sip of his drink.

“I do need to go to the bathroom, though.”

“You don’t have to ask me permission. Go piss, girl.”

That caught Phil extremely off guard and he almost doubled over laughing. While he was distracted, Dan reached out to grab Phil’s hand—the same one with the lipstick print from before—and kissed it again.

An intense, warm blush washed over his face as Dan dramatically kissed it, yet again leaving behind another print and fluttering her lashes. 

“I’ll be dancing. Come find me.”

“All of this talking and not even a real kiss?” Phil asked, feeling emboldened all of the sudden.

Dan smiled back, booping him on the nose, “Not if you’re too impatient, honey.”

She smiled, winking at Phil then turning to leave. Phil watched her disappear into the crowd before walking towards the bathrooms. 

Once inside, he found it empty and he took a deep breath. A blurry recollection of what had just happened played in his head, less recollective of the conversation itself and more of the fine details. How passionate Dan had been talking about certain topics, that boisterous laugh, that sweet tone and side rub when comforting Phil from a wickedly strong drink. He looked at himself long and hard in the mirror, painfully aware of what he had just agreed to, and acknowledging that he was an idiot for agreeing to it.

He had just managed to make a new friend, and they were having fun clubbing together. And Phil had agreed to meet them on the dance floor. Nothing else to see there.

Unfortunately, it was far from that simple. Dan was not some person he’d just met—they worked at the business Phil had officially invested in. Phil’s public presence was mostly wholesome, from charity events and philanthropic donations while still performing well in a money making, corporate sense. A stake in a nightclub was already out of Phil’s usual wheelhouse in comparison to supporting animals or underprivileged youths. And the second he’d laid eyes on Dan, every ounce of professionalism he had brought with him at the start of the night had been thrown out the fucking window.

It wasn’t as simple as talking or dancing. It was flirting, it was touching, it was drinking. It was…risky.

Phil took a deep breath, took care of his business, and went back out on the main floor. The energy was still there. Loud music, bright flashing lights, and vivacious groups of people contrasted harshly against Phil’s deflated mood.

“Oh, Phil, hey!”

PJ, not now, nearly made its way past Phil’s lips. But he held his tongue with all the might in the world.

“Hey, Peej,” he tried to say without exasperation, “How’s it going?”

“Great, I reckon!” PJ practically cheered, “This turnout is amazing!”

“Yeah, it really is,” Phil said. Awkwardly sticking his thumbs in his pockets, he rocked back and forth to listen to PJ talk at him some more.

“I can’t wait for our next business meeting. I have so many ideas to share with you.”

“That’s great, I can’t wait to hear them!” Phil felt bad for sounding so fake, really. He wasn’t supposed to be here to be distracted by Daniel, but couldn’t help his annoyance that PJ was getting in the way. Luckily, the conversation ceased from there, aside from goodbyes.

After talking to PJ, he went straight to the bar, ordered a drink, and as he waited for it to be prepared, he turned his head to find Dan. 

There were so many people on the dance floor, and multiple drag queens towering over the crowd. Yet, somehow, Dan was easy to spot, dancing an actual routine as if she owned the place. A shining star, eclipsing the rest of the people shoved together.

Mars slid his drink across the bar, and he thanked them before chugging about half of it. He took a deep breath, sipped the rest more thoughtfully, then left the glass on the counter and went into the crowd.

Phil checked the time on his phone as he walked over, to see that it was nearly midnight already. A remix of a song he liked playing all over the club filled him with the last bit of confidence he needed. With a pep in his step, Phil walked across the dance floor to Daniel, who was beside their friends. Daniel spun around and they nearly bumped into each other. 

“Oh, hey,” Dan greeted, smiling widely, “You ready to dance?”

When Phil shook his head, Dan protested with a laugh, taking his hands and moving them. She looked into his eyes, dancing and lip syncing. Dan let go and spun, giggling, before grabbing Phil’s hands again and getting a lot closer to him. They were almost chest to chest now, if it weren’t for Dan’s extended height.

“Hi,” Dan said with a giggle. Phil was starting to realize that Dan laughed flirtatiously at nearly everything he did or said. It was really cute.

“Hi,” he answered. The song blaring from the speaker transitioned into another. 

Although towering above him, Dan looked incredible. Courage and confidence seemed to radiate with every breath she took, and Phil had to remind himself that he just needed enough bravery to be in Dan’s presence—everything else after that seemed tolerable. Dan continued to guide him to dance in different ways, encouraging him even if he felt like he did really badly.

Dan was talking, but not a word made its way to Phil’s ears. Instead, he was mesmerized by their gorgeous face and intoxicating perfume. After speaking, she looked down at him expectantly for an answer.

“Oh, ‘m sorry, I didn’t really hear you because of the music,” Phil lied.

“I was just saying that A’Whora was right, dancing would be fun. Especially with a ‘hunk’ like you,” Dan giggled again, rolling their eyes as they recalled the other queen’s antics.

Phil felt a blush creeping up his neck, but laughed anyway.

They continued to dance for a while, and as they did, Phil had much more of a blast than he had first anticipated. The alcohol melted his nerves like ice, his own confidence beginning to emerge like a morning’s sunrise. He didn’t even feel like he was embarrassing Dan by poorly attempting to dance. 

Moments with Dan were intimate and flirty, but also filled with jokes, short stories, tripping, and awkward moments. Dan eventually took off their shoes and had someone take them somewhere so they could be closer to Phil’s height. Songs would come on that Phil knew the lyrics to and Dan would be surprised as they sang or lip synced it together.

“You know this song?” Dan asked loudly at one point, “I’ve always thought of it as a hidden gem.”

“I’m still gay!” Phil yelled over the music, “I just didn’t know about drag queens.”

Dan laughed loudly, squeezing his bicep.

“What?” Phil chuckled.

“You just screamed ‘I’m still gay’,” Dan laughed, “It’s funny.”

“Oh, right,” he said, blushing slightly. 

“I’M STILL GAY!” Dan screamed, and because of the loud music and talking, her announcement barely turned any heads. She laughed hysterically.

“I’M GAY!” Phil added, laughing with them, “STILL!”

That made Dan laugh even harder, so much so that she was sarcastically getting onto Phil for ruining her mascara from tears of laughter. Some more songs cycled through, and they were perfectly shielded from the crowd, in their own personal bubble. 

However, the liquid courage didn’t overshadow his general discomfort of an extremely extroverted environment for as long as he would’ve hoped. He tried his best to mask it from Dan, not wanting his discomfort to translate and sour the mood. But he was growing tired of sweaty people with barely any clothes on rubbing against him to pass through, the strobe lights that made his eyes sting, and the music was starting to hurt his ears. 

“You okay?” Dan yelled over the crowd so Phil could hear.

Shit.

Phil quietly nodded, but thankfully instead of continuing to dance, they reached to touch his lower back. Dan shooed off anyone that tried to engage in conversation with her as she led Phil out of the crowd and into a quieter area—the VIP lounge.

There were much less people on the sleek leather booths, the few speakers in the corner weren’t pumping out music nearly as loudly, and it was better maintained by the waitstaff, who were actively cleaning tables and picking up leftover glasses. Sure, there were plenty of handsy couples, but it was the closest he’d get to a casual area besides hiding in the back.

“Thank you,” Phil eventually replied, then asked again, “Can I be honest?”

“Yeah, what’s up? Are you sure you’re okay?” Dan’s voice somehow managed to cut through the chaotic noise.

“I’m starting to get really overwhelmed,” he admitted, and then the sounds were muffled—Dan had placed her hands over his ears. 

The touch didn’t tip him over the edge, instead grounding him and calming him down a bit, and the reduced sound helped. Dan smelled really good, overpowering the sourness of alcohol in the air.  Their  hands were really warm and soft as they clearly tried their best to comfort him. Phil couldn’t make eye contact, but he knew Dan was looking at him, trying to read his expression. 

“I totally get that,” Dan sympathized, “Is this helpful?”

“Yeah, it is. Thank you,” he said. Barely noticing that he’d been bouncing on his feet, he tried to stop, but caved in. Dan had stayed with him all night, despite seeing him looking awkward plenty of times already.

“You’re so fucking adorable,” she said after a while, and Phil managed to look at her then, checking to see if there was sincerity behind it. The answer was yes.

He wondered if the warmth rising in his cheeks was evident, hoping Dan wouldn’t feel his blush on their palms. 

She started to ask, “Would you…”

Phil looked in her general direction.

“Want to go somewhere else? With me?”

So much for trying to hide his blushing face.

“I’d really like that,” Phil said, as Dan nodded.

Slowly removing their hands from Phil’s face, Dan said, “Okay, let me get some bags ready. I’ll meet you near the back in like…five to ten minutes?”

“Okay.”

Dan nodded again in acknowledgment. “Would you be able to get a lift while I get ready to go?”

“S-Sure,” Phil agreed, sitting at the bar while Dan went back to the dressing room.

“Make sure you tell them to come around the back.”

When Dan returned, she had two large bags, one duffel bag over her shoulder and a rolling suitcase. They stood in the hallway that separated backstage from the rest of the club, signaling for Phil to follow them.

The hallway was incredibly narrow, twisting and turning the longer they walked down it. Phil didn’t remember the hallway being that long, but he had been drinking a bit, and Dan, like always, was distracting. Dan shoved open the doors to a back alley, and Phil took the handle of the rolling suitcase to help. She casually strutted out of the building.

“I told someone to distract PJ,” Dan admitted once they were outside, “So we don’t have to worry about him.”

“Oh, okay,” Phil responded.

It took him a few seconds to realize the silence as the two waited for a ride. Dan was still dressed completely in drag.

“Hey, sorry if this is weird for me to ask, but…will you be safe?”

Dan snapped their head to turn and look at Phil, extreme worry suddenly apparent in their eyes.

“Did you…change your mind?”

“No, no, I meant—“ Phil started to speak, almost caught off guard by how terrified Dan looked. “I’m…I’m sorry. I meant, like, you’re still in drag. I don’t have a problem with it, I’m just concerned if the driver will be weird or hateful or—“

Dan audibly exhaled a sigh of relief, looking down at the ground. He was mindlessly playing with a Hello Kitty luggage tag attached to the strap of his duffel.

After clearing his throat, Dan said, “Oh. Um, when drivers can accept their rides, they know this is a gay area, so they shouldn’t if they’re homophobic or weird. Worst case scenario, I have like, pepper spray and stuff.”

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure. I’m staying with you, don’t worry. But I also don’t want to force you, you can talk to me.”

They had a bit of a blank stare out into the dark alleyway, but nodded at Phil’s words.

no you don’t <3

new phancam on youtube!!

HOW DO YOU GET THE DBD BADGE 😭 I NEED IT OMG

it’s in the tumblr shop!!! you can claim it for free there :)

<3

🦉Positivity owl reporting for duty! This was sent by a friend who wants you to smile as much as your posts make them smile. Please list five things that make you unique, four things you are super passionate about and why, OR three of your favorite memories. Feel free to send the owl to those who you feel deserve to smile🦉

omg this is awesome :33

3 of my favorite memories have to be from this year!!!

meeting my best friend of a long time @nic-the-rat irl for the first time, and d&p!!!

meeting brandon rogers multiple times!!!

being in my field production class this summer where we did a short film! it was so fun!!

Stumbling upon a Star Trek: TOS post that isn’t some stupid fuck jerking off to Kirk and Spock as a couple is like finding $20 on the sidewalk.