"PROMPT: Dan is sick but he doesn't want Phil to know but then he faints on the radio show and Phil starts crying and long fluffiness please 3 (love ur fics btw)"

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

(OOC. Nothing of this has ever happened!)

Phan one shot!

Contains: Fluff, sickness.

Status: Together

POV: Point of view changes through the story

Words: 3.310

I am fine

DAN'S POV!

"Dan?" Phil whispered and gently knocked on the door.

"Hmmf..." I groaned and turned around beneath my covers.

"It's almost 1pm. What are you doing? Don't tell me you're still asleep."

"Go away, Philip," I mumbled and pulled the duvet over my head. I couldn't deny it, I was sick. Like really sick, probably the flu or some horrible virus. But today was not the time for that, because we had to do the radio show. And I couldn't let the fans down. And not to mention, Phil. I had to do it, even though I would probably die in the attempt.

"You have to get up soon, Dan." He knocked harder on the door, making my eyes jump open in surprise.

I looked at myself in the reflection of my phone. I couldn't let Phil know I was sick. He would not allow me to leave the house for an eternity. And then he would have to do the radio show by himself and I knew he hated that. But God, I looked terrible. My head was pounding really badly and my body was aching all over. I probably looked like someone who haven't slept in a hundred years.

"Coming," I muttered and unsteady swung my legs over the edge of my bed. This was not my day.

I heard Phil walk away from the door and I slowly rose from the bed to find some comfortable clothes to wear, which happened to be the biggest hoodie I could find and some sweatpants.

"You okay?" Phil asked and wrinkled his forehead at me when I entered the lounge.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just fucking tired and someone woke me up," I said and managed to make a fake yawn followed by a fake smile. I quickly turned my face away from him. If he got the chance to look at me for a longer time he could guess I was lying.

"I'm going to make a drink. Want something? Tea? Coffee?" Phil asked and moved his laptop away.

"Coffee please. Thank you," I said quickly and tried to hold back a cough. Phil smiled and left the room. I picked up one of the pillows and began coughing into it, being careful not to make a sound.

"We are out of milk!" he yelled back to me.

"No." I sighed. Coffee was the only thing I wanted and I couldn't drink it without milk. I walked to the kitchen, making sure Phil had looked properly. But he was right: no milk.

"I'll go get some. We need some other stuff too, no problem." Phil walked around me to find his phone, keys, and wallet.

"If you're going, could you maybe please get me Starbucks instead?" I begged and forced myself to glance at him.

"Are you serious?" he questioned, stopping his movements.

"Does it look like I'm kidding?" I asked in a joking way.

"Hmm, no. But okay..." he breathed and took at step closer before he quickly placed his lips on mine. I didn't want to kiss him back properly because of my rising fever, but it only made Phil stare strangely at me. I gave him a wide smile to cover up for it and hurried out and into the lounge before he began asking questions.

"I'll be back soon!" he shouted through the house and I heard the front door close.

I placed myself on the couch and pressed my body as far into it as possible, making myself comfortable. But it was hard because I felt so bad.

I switched on the TV, trying to distract myself. It only worked for like 10 seconds before my stomach began to turn around.

"Are you kidding..." I murmured as the nausea started to get to me and my mouth watered. Nope, I couldn't do this. I got up from my position on the couch and walked towards the bathroom. I had to run the last two steps to reach the toilet in time. I knelt in front of the bowl just to be violently sick.

"Oh god…" I slurred and closed my eyes, while I literally hugged the toilet. I gagged a couple of times, but they were only false alarms, and prayed to God that Phil wouldn't walk in on me right now. Small pearls of sweat were forming on my forehead. I was seriously ill and just the thought of two hours of radio show was enough to make me cry.

"Just let me, die…" I whined into the toilet and closed my eyes hard together. I moved a bit and leaned my back against the amazingly cold tiles on the bathtub. It felt like my skin was on fire.

After I caught my breath I decided to get up and go to my bed instead. Phil could be home any second and if he saw me like this he would definitely know I was ill. I didn't want him to worry, and if he knew, he would stay home with me, meaning that there would be no radio show. It was too late to cancel now.

I quickly brushed my teeth and flushed the toilet before I left to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl in case I needed to be sick again so that I didn't have to run to the toilet and past Phil.

I wrapped myself tightly in my duvet just as I started coughing enough to make my throat horribly sore.

"I'm home!" Phil's voice felt like knives in my pounding head. "Are you in your room?" he asked and I heard him walk closer.

"Yes. But don't come in! I'm working on a video. Just..." I stopped as I felt my stomach contents raise in my throat. "…place the coffee outside, please.." I managed to squeak out and quickly grabbed the bowl, waiting for him to go away so I could relax.

"Hmm, okay. Remember we're leaving half past five." Phil didn't sound very convinced, but slowly walked away.

All my muscles tightened up and I threw up into the bowl I was holding as silently as I could. This was too disgusting. It made my vision blur slightly. I hid my head in my hands when I was done. This was horrible. I wouldn't be able to do this.

If we would leave at half past five, that could give me about four hours of sleep, hopefully without Phil noticing. I knew we had some preparation to do, but I could let Phil do that by himself while I tried to get better, which would be a challenge.

I placed the bowl down on the floor beside the bed and lay down as close to the edge as possible. I quickly grabbed my phone to set an alarm or else I was sure I could sleep for a week.

If I thought my head was pounding before, I was wrong. This pain was indescribable. Luckily, I had slept some of the nausea away. I could do this. Three hours and I would be back home. Only three hours. Come on Dan.

I carefully stumbled out of bed and towards my wardrobe to find some clothes. I decided to take a quick shower; I was sweating quite a lot because of the fever and maybe it would make me look less like a dead cat. And then I had an excuse to go to the bathroom, because I needed to clean the bowl before Phil would walk in.

I opened my door. The coffee. I had forgot everything about that. It was standing on the floor right outside of my door along with a bag of malteseres. I wave of guilt hit me. Phil had gone that long way to buy me coffee, and then I just left it.

I tiptoed through the house, being careful to not draw any attention to myself until I reached the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I moved my gaze to the mirror, regretting it instantly as the sight I saw was horrible. My skin was pale and the bags underneath my eyes were nearly black. I would need a miracle.

I turned on the water, stepped out of my slightly moist clothes, and got in the shower. I made the water a bit colder than I usually would have it in attempt to lower the fever.

"You okay?" Phil asked as he tied his shoes. "You've been so quiet."

"I am fine. Honestly. I'm just tired and exhausted and that video is killing me," I answered as I did my best to avoid eye contact. I hated lying to him, but we had to do this, so what difference would it make?

"Let me look at you," Phil commanded. I sighed hard and turned my head, facing him. "Are you ill?" he questioned and opened his eyes wide.

"No, of course not!" I snapped and tried to sound as normal as possible.

"Dan..." I saw Phil stretch his hand towards my forehead and I quickly stepped outside where he couldn't reach.

"I'm perfectly fine. Come on, we're late." Phil didn't look convinced at all, but sighed softly and followed me. He knew it was hopeless starting an argument with me.

"Are you coming?" Phil knocked on the toilet door. I was standing in front of the sink, splashing some water in my face. As time went by I only got worse. I was shivering and my head felt light. If I moved too fast my vision would blur.

"Only a minute," I answered and held back a cough.

"Okay, hurry," he said in a slightly worried tone. I quickly swallowed a couple of the painkillers I had brought with me and unlocked the door.

I took some deep breaths. I just wanted to get this over with so I could go home and feel sorry for myself safely under my duvet.

I tried to sound energetic, but as the show went on everything just got worse. I felt dizzy from standing and all my muscles were trembling and hurting. I was exhausted. Phil started to notice how poorly I was and gave me long questioning glances.

"I-I need to sit down..." I slurred, breathed heavily, and pulled off my headphones. We were only halfway through the show.

"You are sick, Dan," Phil said and turned to face me. But just as he did, my legs felt weak and my vision blurred fully before everything went dark and completely silent.

PHIL'S POV!

My heart stopped when I saw Dan fall to the floor. I could tell he was ill, but that it should come to the point of passing out, I didn't see coming.

"Dan?" I questioned and quickly knelt down beside his head. It was a pretty rough fall he took there. "Oh god…" One of the producers rushed down beside me.

"What happened?" she asked, looking at me, but I was too shocked to understand her properly.

"I-I d-don't k-know," I stuttered and brushed Dan's hair out of his eyes. But he was out cold.

"We'll play some music videos," she quickly informed me. I nodded slowly and turned my attention back to Dan. His skin was unhealthily pale and he was shaking a little.

"Dan?" I cried. It was really scary to watch; I couldn't stand seeing him like this. Tears were forming in my eyes and soon overflowed to run down my cheek from pure shock. "H-how about some water?" I suggested and desperately looked around without any clue of what was happening.

The producers were running around, trying to figure out a solution. I didn't know what to do and was about to panic.

I saw Dan's eyes slowly starting to roll around underneath his eyelids.

"Hmm…" he whimpered and moved his head slightly to the side. He was definitely not feeling well.

"H-hey," I sniffed, but it didn't seem like he had the power to open his eyes.

"Home..." he breathed out, followed by some helpless whines.

"Yeah. I'm going to take you home." I looked around on the people behind me, but they seemed to agree. Twitter was already asking why the 4th music video had played in a row. But I didn't care about the radio show anymore. The producers could do what they wanted or find someone to take over. I needed to get Dan home.

"Ca-can you stand?" I asked concerned. My hands were shaking really bad because I was so nervous. "Could someone call a cab for us, please?" I sobbed.

"Already called one," someone responded.

DAN'S POV!

I was so confused. What was I doing on the floor? I should have stayed home after all.

"Ca-can you stand?" Phil asked. But just the thought about moving was horrible. I felt nauseous and this headache was so bad.

"Hmf," was the only answer I could make.

I head Phil sniff a couple of times. Was he crying? This was all my fault.

I tried to open my eyes. My whole world started to spin, but I managed to keep them open. I was literally so confused.

"Let me help you up." Phil quickly dried his eyes with the back of his hand and grabbed both of my writs to pull me from the floor. "Are you going to be sick?" he quietly asked. I shook my head in response and squeezed my eyelids hard together.

Phil moved his hand around on my face and it felt amazing on my burning skin.

"Jesus Christ, Daniel. You're melting," he blurted out.

"Hmm… what happened?"

"You fainted..." Phil answered nervously.

"Wha..." I was too exhausted and confused to give him a proper answer, but I had so many questions.

I felt myself being pulled up from the floor by two people. One of the producers had come to help Phil carry me down and into the taxi.

I leaned myself against Phil and he held onto my hand for comfort. My breaths were heavy and long and I did my best to control my body on the ride home, but everything was a blur.

"Are you going to throw up?" Phil asked and dragged his fingers through my hair. "You have to tell me so we can get out."

I slowly shook my head against his shoulder.

"We'll be home soon," he whispered and squeezed my hand a bit.

Phil helped me inside, but nearly had to carry me all the way up the stairs. My legs wouldn't cope with my brain and the commands I gave them.

"Couch, bed or... toilet?" Phil asked and looked at me from head to toe. I stood leaning against the wall in the hallway, trying to keep my balance.

"Sleep…" I muttered. It was the only thing on my mind. I felt so bad and everything was hurting. My head still felt light and I needed to lie down.

Phil guided me to my bed and helped me out of my soaked clothes.

"I'm freezing..." I slurred, unsteadily sitting down, making it possible for Phil to take off my jeans too.

"I need to get this fever under control. I'm sorry." He pulled my shirt above my head and left the room.

"Take this." Phil held out some fever reducer. But I couldn't handle the thought of swallowing something, so I pushed his hand away.

"I-I'm gonna be sick…" I stuttered and breathed heavily.

"Now?"

"Now," I managed to breathe out and tried to sit as still as possible.

Phil stormed out of the room and hurried back, holding a bucket.

"I'm sorry…" I whispered and rested my forehead against the side of the bucket I was holding between my legs, just waiting for the contents of my stomach to leave my body. Phil sat down beside me.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick, Dan? You should have stayed home…" he said quietly, holding one arm around my shoulders for support.

"The radio show… I, and you… and I couldn't just stay home. And fans..."

"It's just a stupid radio show, Daniel. How can you possibly think that that's more important than your health? You could have stayed home one Sunday and no one would be mad. It's ridiculous."

But I didn't get the chance to answer him before I threw up into the bucket. Phil was now holding it instead of me because I was shaking too much.

"Oh god… disgusting," I murmured and closed my eyes.

"It's okay," he whispered and moved his hand up and down my naked back. "It's going to fine." I could tell he was really concerned, but did his best to hide it.

"You done?" Phil asked after a moment of silence.

"I guess…" I struggled with the words because I had no energy left.

"Lay down. I'll be back." I nodded sleepily against the hand he had placed on my forehead for support so I wouldn't fell over.

Phil moved the bucket to the floor and walked out. I slowly curled up on top of the bed.

"What's hurting?" he asked and got down on his knees on the floor beside me. Phil threw the duvet around me and brushed my now completely curly hair out of my eyes.

"My stomach, my head, my everything… I could come up with a long list…" I murmured. I felt myself being moved around, but I was too exhausted to react. I stayed still while Phil lifted my head slightly and placed it down on a pillow, trying to make me comfortable.

He lifted up my covers and moved in a hand to place it on my stomach. He then began to rub small circles on the sore, sweaty skin, trying to take some of the pain away while his other hand still was in my hair, making me relax the best he could.

"You're too good to me," I whispered while Phil's fingers dragged across my skin.

"And you're an idiot," he responded, smiling.

"Yeah… I'm sorry," I sighed softly and took some heavy breaths

"Don't be. What happened, happened." Phil leaned in to place a long caring kiss on my forehead. "Now you just need to get better."

"What happened to the show?" I asked and pulled different faces because I still felt really nauseous.

"Scott replaced us. Don't worry about it," Phil whispered and kept rubbing my stomach gently. "I need to take your temperature, okay?" I opened my mouth slightly for him to place the thermometer underneath my tongue and waited for it to beep.

"39.9," Phil said, surprised. "You need to take the fever reducer, Dan."

"I'm fine."

"Shut up and swallow it." I really didn't want to because my stomach was really upset, but I did it. Maybe it would help.

"A-are you going to stay there all night?" He was still sat on his knees on the floor right beside me.

"Yes."

"Hmm... come into bed."

"No, you're too ill. What if you need to be sick or something?"

"I want you to hold me," I cried desperately.

"Promise me you'll tell me if you feel bad, okay?"

"Okay, of course." Phil let go of me, quickly changed into some comfortable clothes, and carefully claimed into bed. Because I couldn't move, Phil laid down beside me to hold me from behind.

"Do that on my stomach again…" I mumbled.

"This?" Phil gently placed his amazingly cold fingers back on my hot skin and started moving them in small circles again.

"Yeah. It helped." Phil moved up a bit to lean on his elbow, making my back press against his side and giving him a better angle.

"Try to sleep. I'm sure you'll feel better tomorrow."

"Hmm…" This fever had absolutely drained all energy from my body; even just breathing was hard. "I love you…" I whispered into my duvet.

"I love you too," Phil said softly and bent over to place a kiss on my cheek, making me smile a bit.

thend

I'm taking prompts to one shots or chaptered phanfics. So hit me! I can write about any illness and stuff like that/fluff, but ask me anything and I'll try! I do not take smut requests. (chaptered are going to be uploaded on my other profile)(You can read my long chaptered phanfictions on 'awesomesockes')