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Dan’s left his hair curly today, and Phil can’t stop staring.
He’s seen it before, of course, on Skype, and when they’d stayed over at each other’s family homes, and when they’d gone swimming in Jamaica together. But there’s something totally different about it now. Maybe it’s just the fact that Dan actually lives with him now.
Dan hates his hair and says it makes him look like a hobbit, but Phil can never bring himself to agree. Today, one of his curls is looping down over his forehead, dipping below his eyebrow. Every now and then, he’ll reach up and brush it away, but it always returns to the same spot, distracting and annoying and so, so charming.
Dan is usually obsessive about straightening his hair into emo perfection from the moment he gets ready each day, which is maybe why Phil’s attention is so fixated on his curls today. They just seem so out of place compared to Dan’s typically carefully curated appearance that he wants to reach out and touch them, to twirl that one rouge curl around his own finger and give it a tug, just to see how Dan will react.
But he doesn’t, because he and Dan are totally platonic friends-turned-housemates, and not boyfriends, no matter how much Phil might wish otherwise. And so, touching Dan’s hair like that would definitely be weird.
“Why’re you staring at me, you weirdo?” Dan says.
“I’m not,” Phil says, eyes flicking back to the tv screen, even though he is being a total weirdo right now.
“You should be watching my epic Crash Bandicoot skills instead.” He mashes the jump button, and Crash falls off a rotating platform. “Ugh, I got distracted. Here.” He tosses the controller over to Phil, who’s more than happy to take his turn, if not just so he can have a good excuse to stop staring.
It doesn’t work; Crash plummets off a platform within ten seconds, and Phil tosses the controller back over to Dan. “This is stupid. This game is too hard.”
“Your mum is too hard.” Dan pauses the game. “Are you in a bad mood today?”
“No,” Phil says.
“You totally are.” Dan pokes him, making him flinch away with a yelp. “But you shouldn’t be, not now that your best friend in the whole world officially lives with you.”
Phil smiles, because yeah, that is pretty cool.
“We should do something fun today, besides this,” Dan continues.
“Like what?” Phil says.
“I dunno. We should film a video, maybe. Neither of us have posted in almost two weeks. That’s so long. People are gonna think we died or something.”
Phil considers it. “I was gonna film a video about moving and announce to everyone that you’re my new housemate. I was thinking about doing a little skit where I pretend I’m actually moving in with Robert Pattinson, but he canceled on me and I have to settle for you.” He leans forward and picks up the Robert Pattinson paper mask off the glass coffee table in front of them, covering his face with it and speaking in a silly, deep voice. “Ungh, Bella. Better hold on tight, spider monkey.”
It makes Dan laugh. “That mask thing scared the shit out of me this morning. It was just propped up on the breakfast bar like some creepy decapitated head. Why was that literally the first thing you unpacked when you moved in?”
“I like it,” Phil says, clutching it to his chest defensively. “Maybe I actually should’ve asked Robert to move in with me. He would’ve been loads more fun than you.”
Dan gasps dramatically. “How dare you say I’m not fun.”
“Or I could’ve asked Taylor Lautner,” Phil says. “I reckon I’m way more into sexy werewolves than sparkle vampires anyway.”
He’s expecting Dan to carry on with the joke; poking fun at the Twilight series is one of their go-tos these days. But instead, there’s an inhale of breath and a slightly too-long pause. Phil looks over to see that Dan’s biting at his lip, looking almost… nervous? Phil can’t quite read his expression.
And then Dan nods, and the strange moment of silence moves on into the expected joke. “Yeah, you really should’ve, you furry. With those eight-pack abs, he probably would’ve been a much better housemate than me.”
—
All jokes aside, Dan’s probably the best housemate Phil’s ever had. Which makes sense; they’ve spent so much time hanging out together in the past two years that he’d pretty much already known that they’d work well actually living together. They like all the same video games and films and takeaway places, which are basically the only things that matter anyway.
And he quickly discovers that living with another YouTuber is the actual best. Dan doesn’t think it’s weird when he shuts himself in his room and talks to a camera, nor does he mind it when Phil leaves his filming equipment lying around the flat, because he uses it for his videos too.
(If only Phil didn’t have this stupid, giant crush on him, this platonic flatmate arrangement would be pretty much perfect.)
—
A few weeks after they move into their new flat, Dan slouches out of his room and into the lounge looking absolutely exhausted, possibly even sick, his skin pale, and dark circles under his eyes.
“You look awful,” Phil says, swiveling around on the breakfast bar stool.
“Good morning to you too,” Dan grumbles.
“Have some cereal,” Phil says. “Cereal’ll fix anything.”
Dan makes a groaning noise and pours seemingly half a bowl of Frosted Shreddies into a bowl, then settles in to eat it on the other bar stool.
“You were up really late again last night,” Phil says. Another thing he’s learned about Dan over the last few weeks: he’s practically nocturnal, usually staying up until four or five in the morning. His insomnia seems to have gotten especially bad this past week, though. Last night, Phil heard him pacing around in the lounge a good several hours after he’d gone to bed himself.
“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep again,” Dan says through a mouthful of cereal. He seems particularly ravenous this morning, eating like he hasn’t had food for a week. “Gonna be up late tonight too. I… I’m going out tonight, actually.”
“What? Where?” Phil says. Dan’s usually such a homebody whose ideal evening is ordering takeaway and playing Mario Kart. Him having actual plans outside of the house with someone besides Phil is a genuine rarity.
Dan shrugs. “Going out with, uh, a few of my old housemates from uni? It’s Kyle’s birthday?” He says it like it’s a question.
Phil blinks in surprise. Dan hasn’t mentioned any of the people he lived with in uni for months. Hell, he barely even mentioned them when he was actively living with them. “Oh. I didn’t know you still talked with any of them.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah, I do sometimes,” Dan says, his eyes flitting here and there, avoiding direct eye contact. “We’re going out to, uh, a pub together tonight. For his birthday.”
“Hmmm.” Dan’s clearly lying, and he’s doing a terrible job at it. If there’s one thing Dan hates, it’s going out to pubs with a bunch of laddish straight guys. And Phil’s met Kyle. He’s maybe the straightest, laddiest guy ever to exist.
“So I might be out late tonight,” Dan continues. His voice has taken on a certain frantic undertone. “Or I might not come back until the morning. Might crash at one of their flats if it gets late enough. I’m not sure yet.”
Phil chews a spoonful of his cereal, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He thinks he knows exactly why Dan’s crafting one of his bizarre spiraling lies. “You know, if you’re going on a date tonight, you can just tell me.”
Dan freezes. “What?”
“Or, like, if you’re hooking up with some guy from Grindr. I mean, I’d rather you tell me where you’re actually going in case the guy’s a total creeper and I have to come rescue you.”
“I…” Dan swallows visibly. “It’s not like that. I’m not going to…”
“It’s okay if you are,” Phil reiterates. “Really, Dan. You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” Dan snaps. “But thanks for your concern.”
“Okay, fine. I hope you enjoy the pub and your uni friends,” Phil says, and shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.
—
It’s weird having Dan gone in the evening like this, Phil thinks, staring into the oven and watching his sad little frozen pizza start to bake. Even though they’ve only lived together a few weeks now, he’s already gotten used to Dan joking around while they get ready for dinner, and helping him decide what show to watch while they eat.
But today’s made him realize that maybe there are always going to be some things that are impossible to know about someone before moving in with them.
Dan lived in uni housing before, where he went back there most nights. Some days, they didn’t see each other at all, when Dan was too busy with school, or when Phil visited his family. Dan could’ve been hooking up with guys since he first moved to Manchester, for all Phil knows.
Fuck.
Phil leaves his pizza to bake and walks over to the sliding glass door in the lounge, stepping out onto the tiny balcony for some fresh air. It’s evening now, and the moon has started to rise, large and silver, over Manchester. It looks full tonight, or maybe a day away from being full? It’s always hard to tell.
Phil stares up at it, his mind drifting back to Dan, wondering where he is right now, if he’ll ever think to look up at the beautiful moon tonight when he’s out on his stupid, secretive date that he clearly doesn’t want Phil to know about. He sighs and sinks down on one of the balcony chairs. Of course. Even when Dan’s not here, Phil’s still thinking about him.
What if asking Dan to move in with him into a tiny two-bedroom flat had been a huge mistake?
It hadn’t seemed like it back when they’d first talked about it a few months ago. Actually, it had felt like the best day ever when Dan had said yes, like they were taking the natural next step to their friendship. After all, Dan had been around his first Manchester flat pretty much all the time anyway, hanging out with him and making videos together. And what with him taking a year off from university, it had only seemed like the obvious choice to ask him to move in.
Maybe it would have been easier to get over him, Phil thinks, if this crush had always been totally one-sided.
His mind drifts back to 2009, to those first couple of months when they’d flirted incessantly with each other and made out a couple of times in Phil’s old bedroom, and he’d really, honestly thought this would turn into something special between them.
But it hadn’t. One day, Dan had panicked and called it all off over a tearful Skype call, saying he wasn’t good enough for Phil, that he wasn’t in the right headspace to be in a relationship, and that actually, they should just stay friends.
Phil had nodded and said he understood, because their friendship always meant just as much to him as their burgeoning romantic relationship. But he didn’t understand back then, and he doesn’t understand now. Not really.
He looks down at the streets below. Dan’s down there somewhere, he thinks. He pictures him sitting at a restaurant with a cute guy he met online, someone who’s not an anxious, socially awkward, Buffy-obsessed weirdo, someone with perfect hair and perfect eyesight, someone who’s not been secretly pining away for him for two years, someone who–
An eerie, low howling noise echoes up from somewhere down in Manchester, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“What the hell?” Phil says out loud, standing up from the chair and gripping the balcony railing tightly, peering down into the shadowy streets thirteen stories below him. It’d sounded like a literal wolf. But of course, it’s nighttime now, and there’s no way he could possibly see if there’s an actual wolf prowling around down there.
And then he shakes his head and looks away. God, he’s always had such an overactive imagination. Of course there’s not a literal, actual wolf in the middle of Manchester. Why would there be? It’s almost certainly some random drunk guy trying to make his friends laugh.
“Stupid,” Phil mumbles. He bets that Dan’s super hot date guy wouldn’t have thought it was a real wolf. He checks his phone. His pizza timer is about to go off, so he stops it and pushes open the balcony door, heading inside to go retrieve his sad, lonely dinner for one. At least he’ll have a funny story to tell Dan tomorrow to try and fix any leftover tension between them.
—
Dan arrives home late morning the next day. He’s wearing the same clothes he left home in last night, and his long emo fringe is disheveled, like he’s been running a marathon in a wind storm or something.
“Good night?” Phil says, looking up from his laptop, where he’d been editing his latest video.
Dan shrugs. “I guess.”
“Did Kyle have a good birthday?”
Dan almost seems surprised by the question. “Uh, yeah. We, uh, got drunk off our tits, which was fun, I guess.”
Phil makes a humming noise and nods.
“But I’m actually dying of starvation right now,” Dan says. “And I desperately want caffeine in me. Let’s go out for coffee, yeah? I’ll even be nice and buy you something.” He seems weirdly full of energy for someone who supposedly got really drunk last night.
Phil’s so tempted to be nosy and press him for more details about the probably-fake birthday party, and try and suss out what Dan was actually up to, but he resists. It feels like Dan is extending an olive branch to him right now, and Phil is all too happy to grab on tightly with both hands and pretend like yesterday didn’t happen.
The September weather is gifting them one final burst of warmth to enjoy before Manchester’s cold, dreary, rainy winter sets in. Phil leads them past the fountains in front of their place, Dan following behind him, balancing on the ledge around the water.
“I think there was an actual wolf down here in the city last night,” Phil remembers.
“A wolf?” Dan says. “What d’you mean?”
Phil hops up to join Dan on the fountain ledge. “Don’t be worried. It was totally just some drunk guy being annoying, but I actually thought it was a real wolf for a few seconds and got really freaked out. You would’ve made fun of me if you’d been there.”
Dan laughs, but it sounds a bit forced. “Yeah, bet I would’ve.”
They walk a few streets over to their favourite Starbucks. He opts for a salted caramel mocha with extra whipped cream, while Dan gets his usual macchiato and a cream cheese danish.
“Oh my god,” Phil says, taking the first sip of his mocha. It burns the roof of his mouth, but it’s so good that he doesn’t even care. “This is amazing, wow.”
“Wish I could try it,” Dan says, taking a massive bite out of his pastry. “But this thing is orgasmic, and I know you won’t eat it, so I don’t even care about not sharing, honestly.”
“That looks disgustingly cheesy,” Phil says, eying the pastry skeptically. “I reckon we’re like everyone’s worst nightmare. You’re super allergic to chocolate, and I hate cheese with a passion. If you combined us, we’d be the ultimate horrible person.”
“Yeah, but that’s why we’re friends,” Dan says. “We can be weird about popular food together.”
“And weird about everything else too,” Phil says.
“Yeah.” Dan smiles at him. He’s gorgeous, and Phil’s heart beats a little faster just looking at his dimples and his unusually messy hair.
“I’d hate being allergic to chocolate,” he says, so he can avoid blurting out something like you’re really cute and I think I love you and why the hell aren’t we dating. “It’s like my favourite thing ever.” It had shocked him when they were first getting to know each other two years ago. He didn’t know humans could actually be allergic to chocolate. He’d thought it was just a dog thing.
Dan shrugs. “I wasn’t always.”
Phil frowns. “What, really? I always thought you were just, like, born not being able to eat it.”
“Oh.” Dan looks down at the pavement. “I mean, no. It came on suddenly when I was twelve. It was like, a whole thing.” He shrugs. “But it’s no big deal, really.”
Dan doesn’t often want to talk about his childhood or teenage years, and the little frown he’s now wearing tells Phil he shouldn’t push it. Fine. He’ll let Dan be all weird and secretive again, even though he wants to be annoying and know all of his secrets, and tell Dan all of his secrets too, and become a strange symbiotic being together with him.
They take their drinks to go, walking out of the coffee shop and down several streets until they reach the park near their flat. It’s tiny, but it’s nice enough, with a couple of curving pathways, some benches, and a whole flock of pigeons that are all scuttling about, pecking diligently at the pavement.
“Ooo, look, pigeons,” Phil says.
“Yes, Phil, those are pigeons,” Dan says. “There’s only about a billion of them here in this city.”
“Shut up,” Phil says. “I like them.”
“I like that ugly, sad-looking one.” Dan nods over at a small bird with scruffy, mottled feathers, standing on its own, a few feet away from the rest of the flock. “I think I relate to it.”
“I think that one’s my favourite. It’s like a shiny Pokémon.” Phil points to a pigeon that’s mostly white, with a few black patches on its head and wings. “I bet in another life, we’d be pigeon friends and spend our days pecking at seeds and rubbish together.”
“I’d like that,” Dan says.
Phil watches the shiny pigeon strut its way over to where the scruffy pigeon is pecking at sandwich crust. “What if one day, I suddenly turned into a pigeon? Would you still like me?”
“Yeah, of course I would. You’d still be Phil, wouldn’t you?” Dan looks over at him, brow furrowed. “And would you? I mean, if I were suddenly an animal and not, you know.” He gestures to himself. “My human self. Would you still like me?”
“Of course I would, obviously,” Phil says. He doesn’t even have to stop to think about it. “Even if you were the weirdest-looking bird in the whole world. You’d still be Dan, just with more feathers.”
Dan takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah. I guess I would be.”
Phil takes another sip of his mocha. He loves going down silly rabbit holes with Dan like this, but he still hasn’t forgotten about last night. As much as he wants to avoid it… he can’t. They really, really need to talk about it or he thinks he might explode.
“Dan? Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, obviously.”
Phil takes a deep, steadying breath. “You really weren’t out hooking up with some guy last night?”
“I wasn’t. I promise,” Dan says.
“And you don’t have some secret boyfriend?”
Dan looks at him, eyebrow raised. “No, of course not. When would I even have time for that? What’re you on about?”
“I just think that maybe we’ve gotta be open with each other now that we’re living together,” Phil says. “I mean, we’re not both gonna be single forever, right? We’re both gonna date at some point, right?”
“I dunno, maybe.” Dan’s looking away from him.
“I don’t want it to be awkward when we do,” Phil says.
“What, because we used to…?”
“I mean. Yeah.” Phil looks around. No one’s around but the pigeons, but he lowers his voice anyway, just in case. “What happened with us, Dan? I mean, I know you liked me back when we first met. We flirted for months over Skype, and then you kissed me on the Manchester Eye that first day.” He shakes his head. “I just don’t get what happened. You pushed me away so suddenly.”
“Why are you suddenly wanting to talk about this now?” Dan says. “It’s been two years.”
“I guess it’s just been on my mind lately since we moved in together. Last night especially, when I thought you might be… you know. Out with a guy.”
“I told you, I wasn't lying about that,” Dan says.
“No, no, I know you weren't,” Phil says. His heart is beating a little faster now that he’s actually laying it all on the line, everything that’s been running through his head for way too long. “It's just... it made me think, I guess. About what if you were on a date? Maybe it was just easier to avoid everything when you were living in the uni halls, and I was living in my little one bedroom flat, and we could just go to our own spaces at the end of the day.”
Dan frowns. “It’s hard having me around?”
“No, I love having you around,” Phil says quickly. “It’s the best, actually.”
“I think so too,” Dan says. “Fuck. Phil. I want to… I just… there’s something that I can’t…” He’s clutching his paper coffee cup so tightly that Phil’s worried the top is going to pop off and his drink is going to explode all over his hoodie.
“Something, what?” Phil says.
Dan’s quiet for a long while, chewing on his lower lip. It looks as though he’s trying to find his courage to say something, but then he exhales sharply instead and shakes his head. “Phil. I really like you. Honestly, I never stopped.”
Phil thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest. “Me neither.”
“I just… I can’t. I can’t date. Not you, not anyone, probably.”
“I don’t understand,” Phil says. He looks around again. They’re still the only ones in the little park. “If we both like each other, why can’t we date? Is it about being open about… you know, being with a guy? I told you before, I’m totally okay with keeping things private, especially on YouTube. We don’t have to tell the world, or even our friends or families. We could just be us.”
“I know,” Dan says softly. “But it’s not that.” He finally meets Phil’s eye. “How about this? Give me some time? I… I want to try, Phil. I just, there’s something you need to know first, and I just need to get my head out of my ass and actually tell you.”
Phil wants to be immature and annoy Dan into telling him right now. But clearly, he’s going through something, and Phil doesn’t want to risk pushing away the best friend he’s ever had.
So instead, he nods and offers Dan a smile. “Yeah. Okay. Whenever you’re ready, Dan.”
—
Three or four weeks later – Phil has never really been able to keep his days and weeks straight since he graduated uni – and Dan has vague plans to go out again in the evening with a couple of uni friends. This time, Phil doesn’t ask too many questions. It’s easier that way, and maybe he really is going out with them. Weirder things have happened.
But Dan looks so shivery, pale, and exhausted from the moment he wakes up that Phil takes pity on him, plying him with an endless supply of tea and buttered toast as they start watching a new anime series together. At least Dan’s appetite hasn’t gone away; he manages to eat almost an entire loaf of bread by himself.
Eventually, around mid-afternoon, he falls asleep on his sofa, bundled up under a fluffy blanket. Phil gazes over at him from the other sofa, relieved he’s finally getting some rest. He’ll let him sleep for a while, he thinks. He looks like he really needs it.
A couple hours pass, and the sky grows darker outside. Phil opens up his laptop to read some new YouTube comments and check his Twitter. He lets the anime continue to play on as background noise, not paying too much attention to what’s happening. He’ll probably end up rewatching it at some point, anyway, once Dan feels up for it.
Phil peers over at his sleeping face in the now-shadowy room. He still looks unwell, even while he’s sleeping. He feels ill like this quite a bit, Phil’s noticed. It honestly worries him a little. Maybe he should make Dan go to the doctor if this current bout of flu or cold or whatever it is doesn’t pass quickly.
He looks away, realizing he’s been staring at Dan’s face for a good few minutes.
Another hour passes before Dan finally wakes up. It’s now fully dark outside. Phil’s switched on the lights and has cocooned himself under a blanket, fully immersed in scrolling through Tumblr.
“Unghhhh,” Dan groans, stretching out his lanky limbs, his arm flopping down from the sofa to touch the floor.
“Hey, sleepy,” Phil says. “You’ve been out forever. You want to order some dinner?”
Dan blinks drowsily over at him several times, and then he looks over at the window, where Phil has been too lazy to stand up and draw the shades closed. For some reason, his expression changes into one of pure horror, and he shoves the blanket off of him. “Shit, shit, shit. What time is it?”
“Uh,” Phil looks at his phone. “Almost 6:30. Why?”
“Shit, fuck, it’s too late,” Dan says. He stands up too quickly and stumbles his way over to the window, looking out over Manchester. It’s a clear night for once; even from where Phil’s sitting, he can see the moon, bright and full, still hanging low on the horizon.
“Oh, are you worried about meeting up with your uni friends?” Phil says.
“What?” Dan blinks. “Oh, uh, yeah.”
“Dan,” Phil says, standing up and making his way over to him. Dan’s still looking a little woozy, probably from standing up way too quickly. “You haven’t felt well all day. Seriously, don’t go. Just text and say you’ll do something with them another day. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“It’s not… I can’t… fuck.” Dan rubs his hands over his face. “Phil.”
“What?”
“Phil,” Dan repeats, like Phil’s name is a mantra. His voice is quavering. “Remember when I said something you need to know about me? It’s actually really kinda important.”
Phil swallows. His throat suddenly feels dry. “The big, mysterious secret you’ve been waiting to tell me?”
“Yeah. And, it’s about to become very obvious what it is.”
A weird energy is crackling in the air. Something suddenly feels very, very wrong. “Dan? What’s going on? You’re really freaking me out right now.”
“I’m– fucking hell. Fuck.” He takes a deep breath. “So the thing is, I’m kind of actually a werewolf.”
It’s not at all what Phil’s expecting. He lets out a weird, loud squawk of a laugh. “A werewolf? What? Is this some kind of weird joke to get out of hanging out with your uni friends? Because you don’t have to lie to me, you know you don’t.”
“It’s,” Dan suddenly folds in on himself, wincing. “Not a joke. I’m not kidding. Fuck.”
Phil’s heart races, and his palms feel sweaty. “Dan? What do you–”
“I just need you to know that I won’t hurt you, ever,” Dan interrupts, his hands clutching at his own arms so tightly, his knuckles are turning white. “I still have my own mind, more or less. I’m not really dangerous when I change, not to the people I consider my pack. Which is you. I’m just, you know. A massive fucking wolf. Ow, shit.” Dan falls to his knees, wincing.
Phil holds himself back from rushing to Dan’s side. “Dan?”
From where he’s crumpled on the floor, Dan gives him one last pleading, desperate look, and then his whole body starts to transform.
—
Phil spent most of his teenage years nursing crushes on fictional werewolves and vampires. He’d typed out endless pages of gay Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfiction on his old computer. It was, in many ways, much easier to live in fictional fantasy worlds than to deal with the consequences and crushed feelings that came along with developing feelings for real boys at school.
And so he’d spent far too many hours staring up at his bedroom ceiling and thinking that, all things considered, it really wouldn’t be much of a deal breaker if a future boyfriend was actually a mythical creature. As long as that boyfriend was lovely and kind and willing to play his nerdy video games with him, that’s all that would matter.
And maybe, Phil thinks, staring at the creature that’s now in his lounge, just maybe, it makes total sense that the guy he’s been in love with for the past two years is an actual werewolf.
Now fully transformed, Dan’s wolf form is crouched on the floor, panting heavily, his tongue lolling out over quite sizable fangs. He’s got long, fluffy, dark brown fur, and lanky legs with large paws, each of which is equipped with claws that are just as long as his fangs.
He’s also enormous, far bigger than a normal wolf. When he picks himself up off the floor, shaking off the last shredded scraps of his t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, his head is pretty much level with Phil’s. Phil’s just glad that Dan told him he wasn’t a threat to him, because even with that knowledge, he’s more than a little bit terrified of those teeth and claws.
“You really are a werewolf,” he manages.
At Phil’s words, the wolf’s ears press against his head and his tail tucks in between his legs, seeming to shrink into himself. It’s utterly incongruous with what a huge, dangerous-looking animal he is, but it’s all too familiar to Dan’s habit of hunching his shoulders, how he’s always trying to make his six-foot-three body smaller somehow.
“It’s… holy shit, Dan,” Phil breathes, blinking rapidly. “You’re an actual werewolf.”
Dan whimpers and starts backing away, but there’s not much room in this flat. His haunches hit the sofa, and he stumbles over those huge paws with a yelp. He’s as clumsy and awkward in his wolf form as he is in his human form, which is strangely charming.
And despite the utter surrealness of this whole situation, Phil smiles and steps closer, closing the distance between them. “Hey. It’s okay, Dan. It’s fine. You’re going to be fine.”
Dan whimpers and blinks up at him.
Phil’s mind races. What can you possibly say to your friend who’s just transformed into a giant wolf right in front of your eyes? “I really did make the wrong video to announce that you were moving in with me, huh?” he manages, sinking down on the sofa. He can feel the adrenaline is coursing through him, and he’s worried his legs are about to give out if he keeps standing. He sweeps his fringe out of his eyes. “I really should have gone for the Taylor Lautner jokes instead.”
Dan makes a little huffing sound.
“Or I could’ve gone for a Buffy joke. I always did think Oz was cute,” Phil says. “Did I ever read you that fanfiction I wrote when I was, like, sixteen? I made Oz and Spike kiss, and then Spike turned him into a really cool vampire werewolf that could fly for some reason.” He looks at Dan, feeling more excited than nervous now. “Oh my god, are vampires real too? Does Buffy actually exist in this universe?”
Dan makes a loud snorting sound, almost like a laugh. Phil’s no expert on canine body language, but Dan looks less tense already. His ears are perked up, and his head is tilted at a slight angle, listening intently to Phil’s rambling.
“Of course I’m talking about Buffy right now.” He laughs a little. “I just… it all makes sense now. This is why you’re sick so often, isn’t it? It’s always right before the full moon. And it’s why you’re really allergic to chocolate, and–” He meets the wolf’s eyes. They’re Dan’s familiar warm shade of brown. “And it’s why you didn’t want to date me, isn’t it? You were afraid of me finding out about you and reacting really badly.”
Dan blinks at him, then looks away out the window, where the moon is shining brightly. His ears are once again pressed back against his head.
“God, Dan, you should’ve just told me, you idiot!” Maybe calling a giant wolf an idiot isn’t the best move, but god, Phil doesn’t even care right now. “As if this would be a dealbreaker, or stop me from having the biggest crush on you ever.”
Dan whines, still looking away from him.
Phil watches him for a long moment, then scoots over on the sofa and puts his hand on Dan’s back. Dan flinches a little, but Phil doesn’t back down, his trembling fingers sink into the thick, soft fur. “We can talk about this tomorrow, but.” He swallows. His mouth still feels a little dry. “This absolutely doesn’t change how I feel about you, Dan. Not ever.”
Dan finally turns, looking at him, as if trying to assess if Phil is really telling the truth. He blinks those big brown eyes once, twice. Phil doesn’t look away.
And then Dan’s hopping up onto the sofa and licking at Phil’s face several times. His tail is wagging like he’s some big, oversized dog, and it hits the ugly lamp that his mum had given them as a housewarming gift. It crashes to the floor and shatters into dozens of pieces. They both stare down at it for a few seconds, and then Phil can’t help it; he bursts into laughter.
“I think this whole werewolf thing was just an elaborate scheme to get rid of that horrible lamp.”
Dan huffs, his tongue lolling out, ears perked forward. Somehow, he looks exactly like he does when he’s human and wearing one of those giant, cheesy grins that lights up his whole face. Then, he flops down on the sofa, settling in next to Phil. There’s not enough room for both of them, really, but Phil isn’t about to move anywhere, because Dan’s warm, and his fur is soft.
Phil holds him close for the rest of the evening.
(And, as it turns out, werewolves really like spending an evening in, watching terrible reality television.)
—
The next morning, Phil wakes up in his own bed, tucked under his duvet. Dan’s right next to him, head on the other pillow, fully human again. He’s lying on top of the duvet, still covered up in his own black duvet, which Phil had taken from his room and draped over him last night. He’s sound asleep, all tension gone from his face, no sign remaining of the wolf he’d turned into last night.
Phil gazes at him, suddenly feeling very, very wide awake. Had last night really happened?
Dan sighs and rolls over. The duvet slips down a few inches, revealing a bare, lightly freckled shoulder. Phil can’t help his eyes from darting down to it. He’s not wearing any clothes, he thinks wildly, remembering with sudden clarity that Dan’s clothing from yesterday is currently in shreds in the lounge.
He’s not gonna be weird about that, nope, absolutely not. His gaze trails back up to Dan’s face: his too-long emo fringe, falling into his closed eyes; his skin, still tanned and freckly from his summer adventures; his slightly-parted lips; the perfect slope of his nose–
“Mmmmph. You’re staring at me,” Dan says. His voice is thick with sleep.
Phil smiles. “Yeah. Maybe I kinda like looking at you.”
Dan blinks, then seems to wake up with a start. He sits up, the duvet pooling in his lap, revealing all of his pale bare torso. “Holy fuck.”
“So,” Phil says. “Your big secret is that you’re a werewolf.”
“Yeah. And you’re okay with it?”
“Yeah. This doesn’t change a thing,” Phil says firmly. He sits up too and reaches his hand out to touch Dan’s arm. “Have you always been a werewolf?”
Dan shakes his head. “I was twelve years old. I had to stay late at school, and I got bit on my way home by what I thought was a giant dog, and, well. I was in for a really big surprise when the next full moon came around.”
“That must’ve been rough.”
Dan laughs wryly. “Just a little. I wasn’t kidding when I said my teenage years were an absolute fucking trainwreck. I don’t know what was worse, the gay thing or the werewolf thing.”
“I’m so sorry,” Phil says.
“Yeah, well, nothing I can do about it now.” Dan yawns and stretches, his arms lifting over his head. Phil’s gaze drifts down once again to his bare chest. “And both of those things are about a million times better now that I’m out of my hometown, honestly.”
“I’m glad,” Phil says. “Um. Would you like a shirt?”
“Yeah, probably a good idea,” Dan says. “Might make talking about this a little less awkward. Waking up naked is kinda a side effect of the whole werewolf thing.”
“It was in Buffy, too. Oz was always naked when he woke up.” Phil stands up and walks over to his wardrobe, very much not in the mood to walk all the way to Dan’s room to go get him his own clothes.
“I love that you always talk about Buffy when you’re nervous. It’s cute.”
“Thanks?” Phil says. He grabs the first graphic tee he finds and a pair of pyjama bottoms and tosses them over onto the bed.
“Your first reaction yesterday to my huge, earth-shattering secret was literally to make a Twilight joke and then start talking about Buffy. That was cute too.”
Phil’s glad his back is turned to give Dan some privacy so he doesn’t see him grinning over the word cute. “I mean, what was I supposed to say? I don’t exactly have that many experiences with actual, real live werewolves to go off of.”
“You absolute spork,” Dan says. The rustling noises of him getting dressed have stopped and, reasonably sure Dan’s not completely naked, Phil turns and flops back onto the bed, tugging Dan's black duvet over himself. Dan watches him. “I thought you’d be afraid of me. I thought you’d scream or try to run away from me, ‘cause I’m a literal horrible monster.”
“Why would I have done that?” Phil says, frowning. “You told me not to be afraid, so I wasn’t. Or maybe I was, a little bit, but not to the point of wanting to run away. And you were, I dunno, a really cute wolf, not a monster. I could still tell it was you, especially when I looked in your eyes. I knew you weren’t going to hurt me.”
“I am a monster though.” There’s a slight crease between his eyebrows. “And I just thought no one would ever want to…”
“What?” Phil prompts.
“What you said to me,” Dan says. “About this not being a dealbreaker for, you know, being together with me. Did you really mean it?”
“Of course I did,” Phil says. He doesn’t think anything would be a dealbreaker when it comes to Dan. “I told you, remember? When we were looking at those pigeons? I’d like you no matter what you look like, because you’d still be you. You're not a monster, Dan.”
Dan inhales sharply, and then he’s leaning forward and pulling Phil in, kissing him. Phil melts into his touch, one hand going to Dan’s jaw, and the other to his back.
He still remembers their first kiss, nearly two whole years ago now. Dan had been so eager and nervous as he’d leaned in close in that ferris wheel pod, and Phil’s heart had felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, he was so happy. Their lips had touched, a tender question between them, and Phil had felt like he was in some cheesy, wonderful gay rom-com film. He’d never wanted it to end.
He doesn’t want this to end either, this second first kiss. Two years later and no more wolf-shaped secrets between them, and Dan’s touch is no longer timid. It’s greedy and wanting, pulling Phil closer in a way that sends a thrill through him and makes him want more, more, more.
When they finally do break apart, Phil presses his forehead against Dan’s, his eyes closed, breathing him in. “I like you so much, Dan, god.”
“I like you so much, too,” Dan says. He’s quiet for a long moment. “I really, really thought I was going to lose you because of this. I was so afraid, Phil.”
“Never. You’re gonna be stuck with me forever and ever, actually.” Phil says. He kisses Dan again, then pulls away to look at him. “Wait. Are werewolves immortal? ‘Cause if you are, you’re gonna need to turn me into a werewolf immediately so we can be immortal together forever.”
“No, I’m not immortal, you twat,” Dan says, laughing.
Phil’s mind is suddenly racing with possibilities. “Maybe you could turn me into a werewolf anyway. We could be our own little pack together every full moon.”
Dan’s laughter softens into the most genuine smile Phil thinks he’s ever seen on his face. He cups Phil’s face with his hand, caressing his jaw with his thumb. “You’re really sweet,” he says. “But let’s just start by enjoying today, yeah? Together?”
Phil pulls him into another kiss, just because he can now. “Together. Sounds perfect to me.”