The Hotel Room (Phan)

Chapter 8

A/N: Phil's biphobia is meant to be a sub-plot. Like when Kurt says he doesn't believe in bisexuality in Glee, except they never went any further with that. But yeah, being bi myself, I am not personally biphobic and obviously believe it exists. Also oh my gosh sorry about how long it took me to upload my parents found out I write smut so everything got banned but I can still write. Secretly.

Chapter 8

Phil's POV

The silence seemed to stretch out forever, as I tried to stop myself from saying yes. There was no point; he didn't mean it. He felt guilty that he could never feel the same way, so he was trying to eradicate the guilt by pretending to have feelings for me. No, I couldn't, I shouldn't.

"Reply, you wanker, for God's sake."

There was something desperate in his voice, and my head rose to meet his eyes. They were earnest and truthful, but I still didn't know what to say.

"You don't mean it." My voice cracked.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

"No, listen to me!" I cried, my voice becoming stronger. "You're not gay, I know you aren't. Don't deny it. You've had more girlfriends than anyone I know, and you just can't fake that much."

"I'm not gay, but I love you."

"That's not possible."

"Ever heard of bisexuality?"

"It doesn't exist," I insisted instantly.

"It does, Phil," Dan replied softly. "We're not just friends; we've both known that for a while now. You can believe whatever you want about my sexuality, but I can't deny that on some level, I'm attracted to you, and I love you so much, Phil, please believe me. Just one date. Please?"

Confusion overtook my emotions, and I couldn't speak. He looked into my eyes beseechingly, but I was incapable of responding.

"For God's sake, Phil," Dan murmured, and I was barely conscious of him leaning forward before his lips were on mine- gently pressing, insistent but soft. I was instantly lost on the sensation, curiously processing the feeling of the purest form of perfection I could imagine: his arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer, hands pressed into my back and lips tasting like maple syrup and coffee.

When he pulled back it was too soon, far too soon, and it took far too long for me to clear my head.

"Do you believe me now?" Dan asked breathlessly.

"No. Yes. I don't know. Do that again, please?"

"You're an idiot," Dan grinned, before closing the gap again, letting the feeling overwhelm me once more, leaving all my doubts behind.

It was a few minutes later, when he parted our lips for another instant, when he asked and I finally answered.

"Go out with me?" he whispered.

"Okay," I replied, cradling the back of his neck and connecting our lips again. Neither of us were ready to be full on making out; when our lips parted it was only so our breath could mingle and our bodies stayed mostly separate: but it was still the best thing I could have imagined.

He was the best thing I could have imagined.

***

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. I experienced a few moments of sheer terror before I saw the note folded carefully and set on his pillow. I recognised the paper from his favourite, and smiled a little at how well I knew him. I unfolded it and scanned over his familiar scrawl, my smile growing wider as I processed the words.

Phil,

You're not allowed to see me until our date tonight, which will be the best date that has ever happened in the history of mankind, by the way. But make sure you look nice (not that you don't always look nice, but...oh, you know what I mean).

I'll meet you outside the hotel at six pm? Wear a suit, otherwise I'll look more like a dork than usual. Also don't make fun of me.

Love,

Dan xx

"I love you," I whispered to myself, stroking one finger over the handwriting.