Title: Messy and Irrational

Part: Two of Two

Chapter Word Count: 2,749

Total Word Count: 3,932

Summary: Phil isn't sure if what he did was a good thing or a bad thing, but he doesn't have to worry about that since both he and Dan are working hard to forget it. (Domestic violence, murder, Phan)

Disclaimer: If I owned Dan and Phil, Phil wouldn't be allowed to shave. (Because seriously, have you ever seen that man unshaved? It's beautiful.)

Author's Note: I know… I know… This took forever—but I can explain! I find it hard to write with other people around. Being a latchkey kid though, I tend to have a lot of time alone so I can write, but my mom's been sick lately (damn flu epidemic) so I've been taking care of her. Also, I wanted this to be as absolutely good as it could be so I didn't want to rush it. (And Tumblr distracted me.) Oh! And one more thing! I'm not quite sure about the self-defense (and defense of others) laws in the UK, but Wikipedia says the general idea of it is the same as for the US so I'm hoping the specifics are pretty much the same too.

"Defense of others," the lawyer had said. The lawyer had said a lot of things, but that had stuck in Dan's mind the most. Those three words meant that Phil had every right to kill Grant. They meant that Phil didn't get into any trouble for swinging that frying pan around and ending someone's life.

"He was going to kill Dan," had been the first thing that Phil said to the cops after they called an ambulance. "I had to do something." He'd sounded so pleading and so worried.

Dan hadn't mentioned that the likelihood of Grant actually killing him was very low. He figured if he said that, Phil would be arrested—and he couldn't bear to lose the two people most important to him in one fell swoop.

When they got home after The Incident, Dan said, "I should probably call my parents."

Phil made an affirmative noise before heading into the kitchen. "I'll make some tea while you do that," he said.

Dan walked into his bedroom and slumped down onto his bed. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he started to think about what he'd say to his parents. He had to tell them—there was no getting around that—but he really didn't want to.

He dialed in his parents' home number before he could stop himself and waited for a few moments before his mum picked up, "Hello?"

"Hey, mum," he said weakly. He hated how normal the beginning of this conversation sounded. It was all going to go to shit in a few moments.

He could almost hear the smile in her voice as she responded, "Dan! How are you?"

Dan started to rub his hand up and down his leg nervously. "I'm… okay." He tried to laugh but it came out sounding pathetic.

His mum was silent for a moment. "Honey? What's wrong? Is Phil okay? Is it Grant? Do you need to come home?"

"No, mum, Phil's fine. Um…" He moved his hair away from his face and tried to find the right words for explaining. "Grant… not so much."

"What happened?" She sounded so concerned that Dan almost felt bad about having to tell her.

Dan took a deep breath. "He's dead."

Dan was a little proud of how numbly he was able to force those words out. He'd always dealt with serious things by just detaching himself from it, and this was going to be no exception.

His mum sucked in a quick breath. "Oh, honey…" She seemed to think for a moment because her breathing became heavier and she didn't say anything. "What happened?"

Oh God. How to explain? Now that he was faced with actually telling her what Grant had done to him, the idea of doing it was terrifying. She would definitely freak out, and she would probably cry—and Dan didn't want to deal with either. Both were too emotional, too real, for him.

She knew how he pulled away from situations like this, and she'd constantly been trying to make him stop. She said if he didn't deal with the serious things in life everything would come crashing down at once and he wouldn't be able to deal with it. She told him he had to face these things, but he had never listened to her.

"Phil killed him." It slipped out before he could stop himself. It suddenly occurred to him how much that must have shocked his mother. "He didn't mean to though!" Dan hurriedly added. "It was an…"

He'd meant to say it was an accident—but was it? Phil had meant to cause harm, but that didn't necessarily mean he had meant to kill Grant, right? But then again, he had looked so determined when his hand closed around that pan's handle. Dan had been able to see the vicious intent in Phil's eyes.

"He didn't mean to kill him," Dan finally said.

"What happened?" his mum breathlessly asked. Dan opened his mouth to respond but then he heard her say to someone else, "It's your brother. No, you can't talk to him right now… Because I said so. I'll explain later."

"Mum," Dan said to get her attention back. "I… Grant…" He could tell that she was being perfectly silent while he tried to work up the courage for what he was going to say, and he was thankful for that. "He hit me. A lot."

"Oh, honey…"

"Phil was trying to get him to stop."

"Oh, honey…"

Dan new immediately that she was going to ask him to talk about his feelings now. Dread settled into his stomach. He couldn't do that. He still hadn't wrapped his mind around what had happened and he sure as hell didn't want to talk about his emotions with his mum.

"Listen, mum," he said hurriedly, "Phil's making… er… dinner, so I should go. I'll talk to you later. I just wanted to tell you what happened."

As he pulled the phone away from his ear, he heard her say, "Wait, Dan!" but he hit end call and threw his phone back onto the bed.

Slowly, Dan stood up and started toward the kitchen. He expected that Phil would be finishing up the tea by then, but when he walked in he was surprised.

Phil was leaned up against the counter, holding the kettle. He stared at nothing in particular, a strange expression on his face. Something about his expression worried Dan a lot; it was rare to catch Phil looking serious, so it usually meant something was really bad.

"Phil?" Dan said quietly.

Phil jumped. He looked over and seemed to realize what he'd been doing. "That was quick," he remarked.

"Yeah, well…" Dan trailed off, unsure of how to explain himself.

Phil chuckled as he set the kettle on the stove. Turning the dial to heat the stove, he said, "You have to stop doing that. You can't avoid her forever."

"She's so touchy-feely though," Dan complained, making Phil laugh again. "Besides, if I stay on the phone long enough, she'll start asking me to explain technology things and I'll never be able to get off."

Phil shook his head, smiling, and—if for only a moment—things felt normal.

.~.

They didn't go to the funeral. The day after the service though, Phil was gone for a suspiciously long time when he said he was going to the grocery store. When Dan found the receipt, he saw that Phil had bought flowers that never made it home.

.~.

The first nightmare for Dan was only a few days after The Incident.

Thinking about it afterward, he didn't remember exactly what happened in it, but he does remember that he couldn't move. Fear had paralyzed him where he was standing, and he saw Grant walking toward him. It was a slow walk, dangerous and purposeful.

That's all Dan remembers before waking up screaming. He was covered in cold sweat, and the several blankets wrapped around him suddenly felt suffocating. He threw them off just as Phil came running in.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Phil asked. He was wearing only his boxers and he looked a little ridiculous looking around quickly for any signs of danger.

(I'm not okay at all.)

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dan responded. He shifted so he was sitting with his legs stretched out off the edge of his bed. "Just had a bad dream."

Phil looked unsure for a second. "Oh. Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked.

(Why are you even asking me that?)

"Not really," Dan responded in a biting tone; it sounded harsher than he'd intended it to.

Phil seemed a little hurt for a second, but he eventually left and went back to his room.

.~.

It took three more nights of nightmares for Phil to realize that Dan didn't want him to come in and comfort him. Sometimes Dan wondered if Phil had just lain in his bed, listening but unable to do anything about it.

.~.

One night Dan had woken up in the middle of the night because he needed to use the toilet rather than because of a bad dream. As he walked down the hallway, he could have sworn he heard crying from Phil's room. He almost walked in to comfort him but had no idea what he would say, so he just went back to bed.

.~.

After another week of nightmares, Dan woke up realizing that he really wanted someone to comfort him for once. He wished he hadn't pushed Phil away and decided to fix the problem himself. He crept into Phil's room and very cautiously shuffled himself onto the bed.

The disturbance made Phil pry his eyes open. "Wha's goin' on?" he asked, mouth only half functioning. "Dan?"

(I'm sorry for waking you up. I'm sorry that I'm a bother.)

Dan suddenly began to doubt himself. Phil didn't want him in there; he could tell. He started to stand up and move away. He whispered, "Nevermind. Go back to sleep."

Phil looked concerned. "Dan?" he asked, shifting into a sitting up position. He watched his best friend through half-lidded eyes. "Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?"

Dan nodded hesitantly.

(Please, please, I just need you to comfort me.)

"Come here," Phil replied sympathetically. He sloppily opened his arms up.

Dan crawled back under the sheets with Phil, and Phil wrapped him up in a backwards hug. Pressed up against his best friend's chest, Dan felt a strange warm feeling. This was (Safe.)

Phil fell back to sleep fairly quickly, but Dan stayed up half the night reveling in how perfect it felt.

.~.

When Dan woke up in the morning, he was immediately startled by the feeling of arms wrapped around him from behind. He moved to shuffle out of the grip, but the arms just pulled him closer.

(No.)

Dan froze up. He felt all his muscles start to coil together in anxiety.

(No, I'm sorry. Please. I didn't do anything bad. I was good.)

The arms pulled Dan back closer to a chest. Dan allowed it to happen, too tense and scared to even both fighting back. He gritted his teeth.

(Please don't hurt me.)

The chest his back met didn't feel familiar. It didn't feel hard like Grant's, and it didn't rise and fall as much with each breath.

Then it set in: he'd slept in Phil's bed last night. He very carefully turned his body around so he was facing Phil. He wondered how he could ever have mistaken Phil's arm for harmful like Grant's; they pulled him closer protectively, not possessively.

Phil's eyes were beginning to very slowly open. He met Dan's gaze and smiled. "Good morning," he said, grinning.

"Mornin'," Dan replied numbly. He wasn't sure what the best thing to say was when he'd just slept in his best friend's bed.

Phil pulled his arms away from Dan and reached to the ground for a shirt. Dan missed the feel and comfort immediately.

"I'm gonna go make breakfast," Phil said as he slid out of bed. He looked around for a second before grabbing some lounged pants and pulling them on. "You want some?"

"Depends what you're making." Dan pulled the blankets on Phil's bed around himself. It suddenly hit him how good Phil smelled; Dan just wanted to sit here and sniff his blankets all day.

"Eggs?"

"Sure."

Dan forced himself to clamber out of the bed and follow Phil into the kitchen. He sat down at the breakfast bar as Phil pulled an egg carton out of the refrigerator. He found himself unable to stop watching Phil move around the kitchen, the feeling of Phil's arms wrapped around him still fresh in his mind.

"So what was that last night?" Phil asked suddenly. He was cracking an egg over a skillet. "You finally decide to accept my comfort?"

Dan looked down at his hands. "Yeah," he said, his voice catching in his throat. This was such a strange thing for him and it made him unbelievably nervous.

"Well, you can come in anytime," Phil assured him.

Dan couldn't force back his smile at that.

.~.

The nightmares became less frequent.

On nights when he slept fine, Dan didn't crawl into Phil's bed. He wanted to so badly, but he knew he shouldn't bother Phil when it wasn't necessary, so he just stayed curled up by himself.

One of these nights, he was just drifting off to sleep when his door opened. His stiffened on instinct but relaxed when he realized that it was Phil. "Phil?" Dan said. "What's up?"

Phil took one step into Dan's room then hesitated. Eventually, he said, "I was just… Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Dan opened up his blankets, scooting over to make room. Phil looked relieved and slid in to curl up by Dan. The familiarity of the situation was comforting to Dan, who started to fall asleep almost immediately. He was stopped though when Phil suddenly said, "It's a weird feeling."

"What is?" Dan asked. He moved so he was facing Phil on his side.

"Knowing that I've killed someone." He sighed. "That was one thing I never thought I'd do."

"Oh."

(What am I supposed to say? How do I help you?)

Phil sighed again. He lifted up one hand to ruffle his hair before letting it drop down again. Dan couldn't see him very well in the dark, but he thought Phil looked a little lost and very sad. "It's just like," he said, "Grant had a life and a family and a future—and all I had to do was grab that stupid frying pan to take it all away from him."

Dan should've seen this, he realized. Phil had been a little spacey and sad-seeming lately, but Dan had brushed it off as not very important. How had he not even considered how this would affect Phil? God—he was a terrible friend, wasn't he?

"It's not like you planned it," Dan said, trying to sound sympathetic.

"I still killed him."

"He was gonna kill me, Phil." There was that little lie again. Grant wouldn't have killed him, but it seemed to make other people feel better about what happened when Dan said that he would've. "You had to do something."

Phil just grunted. He was silent for a few moments before he said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Dan answered, meeting Phil's eyes. Wow—he'd never really realized what a beautiful color they were.

"Did he hit you a lot?" Phil asked. His voice cracked on almost every word.

Dan couldn't bring himself to speak, so he just nodded.

"Fuck," Phil whispered. He looked around the room for a second then leaned a little closer to Dan, looking into his eyes again. Slowly, he asked, "Dan, can I kiss you?"

(Oh God, please do.)

Dan nodded again. Phil leaned forward and slowly pressed their lips together.

.~.

The next morning, Phil was up before Dan. When Dan woke up, he slowly realized that Phil was staring at him. He smiled.

"I'm sorry," Phil said abruptly. He blinked once, and Dan couldn't help but think that he looked adorable laying on his side like that.

Confused, Dan moved closer to Phil. "For what?" he asked as he took a moment to appreciate the warmth he got from being this close to another body.

"I shouldn't have done that last night," Phil explained. He started to shuffle out of the bed and stand up.

Dan reached out quickly and set his hand on Phil's shoulder to keep him from leaving. He already hated how empty the bed felt without him there. "I'm not sorry," Dan admitted. He gulped, unsure how Phil would respond. In his signature emotionless tone, he added, "I'd actually like to kiss you again if that's okay."

Phil smiled widely. He collapsed back onto the bed and allowed Dan to grab his face and kiss him. After a moment, he pulled away and worriedly said, "Dan, I killed your boyfriend. Maybe we shouldn't do this…"

"Oh shut up," Dan said, pulling Phil back. "Kiss me and forget about him. Think you can do that?"

Phil chuckled. Just as he was about his press his lips back against Dan's he whispered, "Oh, I think I can."

.~.

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." ― Lao Tzu