Information: Dan suffers from LBS (Light bladder syndrome) "You should have told me" is basically about different episodes involving this subject. All the chapters are independent of each other!

"Back in London Phil, to make sure an accident doesn't happen again, constantly asks Dan does he need the bathroom, Dan gets frustrated with it as he feels like Phil is treating him like a child, he fights with Phil about it and they sleep in separate rooms that night but Dan wets the bed after forgetting use the bathroom before going to sleep as he was to upset after the fight, he tries to clean it up himself but Phil hears him crying, and goes to comfort him."

Someone asked for this^^ Of course. Here we go!

Part one and two are to be found on my profile!

Contains: Fluff, illness, hurt/comfort.

Phan status: Together

Words: 2.575

POV: Dan

You should have told me part 3

DAN'S POV!

"Use the toilet before we leave."

"I did used it already," I groaned, turning around.

"Then use it again."

"Are you serious?" I looked questioningly at him. It was like the 11th time he'd asked me today.

"Does it looks like I'm kidding?"

Phil's face didn't change when he said it. He had always been overprotective, but he couldn't mean this.

"Phil."

"Just use it already so we can move on, Dan," he snapped.

I didn't answer him—just turned around and walked back up the stairs. I knew he'd just asked me because he didn't want anything to happen, but every time he asked, I felt like a little child. That was of course not the way Phil saw it. He didn't intend to treat me like a child, but it felt like that.

"Ready to go?" he asked when I walked down again. I ignored him and walked out of our front door. He sighed deeply behind me and locked the door.

The weather was surprisingly nice out, so Phil had invited me to dinner. I had really been looking forward to it, but now it didn't feel the same. I knew it was stupid because Phil was only after me to protect me, but it still annoyed me sometimes. And today was not the day for that.

"Where are we going?" I asked without looking at him.

"Just this way." Phil turned around the corner. "We're eating Mexican today." He smiled. I didn't smile back. I knew it was rude, but Phil had to know he couldn't treat me like this.

"Great," I muttered as I followed him.

"Do you need the toilet before we eat?"

I moved my glass of water towards my mouth, but stopped as soon as he asked and glared angrily at him. Banging my glass back down on the table, I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a look that meant he should stop asking.

The truth was that I should, but I was trying to prove a point so I didn't want to go just because Phil told me to.

He quickly moved his eyes back on the menu, even though he had already ordered. The atmosphere was pretty intense. It was weird because it was never like that. But I'd had enough of this, so I tried to ignore the building pressure in my bladder and just concentrate on everything else.

The food arrived, which made Phil way too happy. He was obviously trying to lighten the mood, but failed miserably. I felt kind of bad for ruining our date like this, but I was too upset to care right then.

As the minutes went on, it became harder and harder to stay still on my chair. I was actually surprised—this was the longest I had managed to hold myself. But it started to almost hurt. I guess Phil noticed because he looked seriously at me.

"Fuck..." I mumbled and threw my fork on my plate. Phil stopped his movements to stare at me, but I had no time to explain. I quickly pushed my chair backwards and got up before hurrying towards the nearest toilet, pressing my hand against my crotch. I only just managed to reach the bathroom and unzip my jeans. So much for keeping my dignity.

"Dan?" Phil asked, gently knocking on the door. "You okay?"

I sighed deeply and violently swung the door open.

"Stop. Asking!" I practically yelled into his face. "Just shut the fuck up!"

"But I'm just…"

"No! I've had enough." I pushed him out of the way and stormed back to our table, grabbed my jacket, and walked out of the restaurant.

I was probably more sad and hurt than annoyed and angry. Phil only did it to prevent an accident from happening. But being constantly reminded that you're not like everyone else can be hard.

I pushed people aside and ran down the street, trying to get as far away from Phil as I could before he started following me. I knew he'd want to talk to me, but I just wanted to be alone for a while.

The more I thought about the whole situation, the sadder I got. People shouldn't see me cry in public so I quickly wiped the tears away. But more were coming and soon there were too many to brush away from my cheeks.

The tears blurred my vision slightly, making it hard to see. I unsteady unlocked the door to our apartment and slammed it behind me before I kicked of my shoes and walked to my room.

My bed was untouched because we always slept in Phil's room. I threw my body on the mattress, buried my head in the pillows, and started crying properly into them.

After about 20 minutes, I heard footsteps on the stairs and out in the hallway, followed by a low knock on my door.

"Dan?"

I didn't answer.

"Please let me in."

I kept quiet.

"I'm sorry. Please open up."

I slowly moved from my bed and unlocked my door.

"You don't know how it is, Phil!" I snapped at him, looking him in the eyes.

Phil looked concerned—he could see I had been crying. "No, but I'm…"

"No. Stop. Just stop. I'm sick of this."

"Shut up, Daniel, and let me explain." Phil's harsh voice came as a shock, so I froze for a second.

"You don't need to explain anything, Philip!" I yelled back and took a step closer, making Phil back away. "Just stop treating me like a child!"

"I'll treat you like a child if you're behaving like one! Like now." He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

"What?"

"You heard me."

I lowered my voice in anger and opened my eyes wide. "You can't say that to me."

"I can say what I want, whenever I want. I try so hard to make everything good for you. Doing everything your way, doing everything you want, and this is now you thank me? Unbelievable!"

"How can asking me if I need the bathroom all the time make things good for me, if I may ask?"

"So you don't pee your fucking pants in public and I have to clean you up because you're too freaked out to do anything!" Phil burst out. I could tell he regretted his choice of words immediately as his face changed from tense to apologetic in less than a second. "No, I-I…" he stuttered.

"You know what, Phil? Fuck you. Just…" I turned around, "leave me alone." I whispered the last words.

"I'm so sorry," he said desperately, trying to follow me. But I closed the door right in front of him, blocking his way. "Dan… I didn't mean…"

"Fuck off," I answered shortly as I placed myself back on the bed.

I heard him sigh and walk away from the door.

I knew it was wrong of me—behaving like this—but I was 21-years-old. He couldn't talk to me like that, illness or not. He couldn't say those kinds of things. And I was too upset to care about his feelings. I obviously had hurt him. He was—after all—just trying to help me.

I was the problem, again. Like he said himself, he had to clean up after me. I couldn't remember one single time I had ever cleaned anything up by myself, whether is it was the bed, or clothes, or anything else. Not even the first time we met. Phil always did. Maybe that was why he always reminded me—because he was sick of cleaning everything.

This was my fault, of course it was. Phil was right. I was a little kid.

I wrapped the duvet tightly around myself and started crying silently into the fabric until I got too exhausted and fell asleep.

My head was pounding as I slowly opened my eyes. The sun shone through the open curtains and it took me a minute to understand what was going on. I hadn't slept in my own bed in forever, so it was a bit confusing.

Then I remembered what happened yesterday and groaned loudly.

I slowly turned around beneath my cover, but quickly stopped and winced as I felt wetness on my legs. That wasn't going to help anything.

I lifted up the corner of the duvet just to revile a big dark spot on the sheets, on the inside of my duvet, and down both my legs.

I kicked the duvet off, frustrated. My eyes began to water again. I hated everything—why should this happen to me?

In that moment, I regretted my actions from the night before. I didn't know until now how much I needed Phil. He would always comfort me and tell me it was okay whenever this happened. And now I had messed it up.

I got off the bed and picked up the duvet from the floor, trying to keep my sobs on a minimum so that Phil couldn't hear me crying. But the more I walked around and tried to clean the bed by removing the ruined sheets, the more I failed. After a moment, I gave up on being quiet.

I angrily pulled the sheets off the bed, knocking over the nightstand beside the bed in my attempt. Nothing worked for me right now. My bed wasn't waterproof like Phil's, so it had soaked through and into the mattress. Phil had bought a rubber sheet for his bed so we didn't need to buy a new mattress all the time, but we only used it on his bed because we never slept in here. I had accidents doing the night if I didn't have an alarm on, and last night I was too out of it to even remember to use the toilet before bed.

"Dan?" I heard Phil ask from the hallway. It only made me cry even more because now he got to see this and tell me he was right.

The doorknob twisted and he slowly stepped in. I was still trying to get the sheets off of the bed, but it wouldn't cooperate. Phil walked up to me and carefully grabbed both of my wrists, forcing me to stop my actions. He kept me still and moved his eyes up and down my body. I hadn't even changed my jeans yet.

Phil didn't speak. He just threw his arms around me and held me tightly, like he always did. I tried to control my sobs, but didn't manage to do it.

"Shh, shh. It's okay," he told me, moving his hand up and down my back for comfort.

"It's not o-okay," I mumbled. "How can it be okay, Phil? I'm such a baby…"

"No you're not, Dan. Don't worry about it." He kept stroking my back, calming me down. "It's okay."

We stayed like this for a couple of minutes until Phil released me. I just kept on crying quietly.

"Let me clean this," he said, locking his gaze with mine.

"You d-don't have to." I quickly dried my eyes with my sleeve and looked to the floor.

"But I want to." He lifted up my chin. "Okay?" He smiled slightly.

"Aren't you sick of this?" I sniffed. " Cleaning up after me all the time?"

"Why should I be?" he asked, confused as he pulled the sheet off the duvet.

"Because you always do it. You didn't sign up for this when we moved in together."

"I knew it was going to be like this, Dan. I knew about your problem long before we even thought about living together. I don't have any issues with this, don't ever think that." He looked seriously at me.

"Then why are you asking me to use the toilet all the time?" I whispered.

"Because I know how hard this is for you. You get sad, frustrated, embarrassed, and angry at yourself. I'm doing everything I can to prevent it from happening because I just want you to be happy. I want you not to worry about having an accident somewhere for everyone to see." He turned around fully and gazed at me with his big, caring eyes. "I love you too much to see you hurt."

"You do?" I questioned.

"Of course I do! Don't be stupid," he said, smiling.

"Why did you say that stuff yesterday if you just want me to be happy?"

"You made me so sad, Dan, because you didn't want me to help you. The way you just walked off like that… I didn't know what to do." Phil stepped closer. "I know you didn't mean to react like that and maybe I shouldn't have pressured you that much. And I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean it like that, seriously."

I nodded in response.

"None of this is your fault. You can't help it. I'm just trying to make everything better for you."

"But it's not fair for you…" I sniffed.

"I don't mind. Really. Seeing you happy and without worries makes up for it." He smiled widely. "Now throw those in the wash and take a shower. Then I'll fix this." He quickly pointed at my jeans and brushed my curly hair out of my eyes. "Okay?"

"Yeah…" I whispered nervously. I found some new clothes and walked to the bathroom.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." I walked into the lounge and sat down beside Phil on the couch. "I'm sorry," I murmured.

"You don't have to be sorry every time—you know that."

"I know. I'm not sorry for that. I'm sorry for yelling at you yesterday." I looked away, ashamed. "I didn't mean to."

"I know. No need to apologize. I shouldn't have asked you all the time. Of course you can figure it out yourself if you need the toilet." Phil moved over, closing the empty space between us. "I'm just so afraid that we'll end up somewhere without a toilet and you'll need to go." He swung one arm around me and made us lean back on the sofa pillows.

"And I was ungrateful for your support and I'm so sorry." I turned my head to look at him properly. He just smiled back to me.

"It's okay." He kissed my lips and quickly pulled back again. "I'll try to keep the asking to a minimum from now on."

"Thank you." I nervously smiled and pressed my lips against his.

"Move so we can lay down," Phil commanded gently.

"Why? We can't both fit on the sofa."

"Of course we can," he responded. I got to stand and Phil laid down, pressing his back as far as he could into the pillows and placing his arm so that it was possible for me to lay with my back against his torso.

"I missed you last night," he whispered into my hair.

"I missed you too," I sighed softly.

"Don't ever do this again, Dan. Just talk to me next time. I got so worried." He kept whispering while he lazily played with my curly, half-wet, hobbit hair. "You know you can always talk to me."

"Yeah. I'm sorry…"

"Stop saying sorry, seriously." He nudged me gently, making me giggle.

"Okay I'll shut up." I grinned and turned my head slightly to get a better look at Phil.

"Thank you." He smiled and leaned down to press his lips against mine.

A/N: This 'chapter' was requested. If you have an idea for a possible 'chapter four' or more. Please, please, please let me know and then we see what happens!