"Hey, Phil. You see that tree? Over there, look. There's this lake behind it. One time, some duchess and I went skinny dipping in it. Fun times," Dan says, sighing fondly. Next to him, walking down one of Hyde Park's many pathways, Phil ogles at the prince curiously.
"Which one?" he immediately demands, turning on his companion.
Dan shrugs - but does little to wipe the proud smirk off his face. "I can't remember. Probably for the best, though. She was, like, twenty years older than me. Esther did her nut in when she found out."
They falter to a stop, and then - to Dan's surprise - Phil suddenly releases a snort of laughter, followed by inherent chuckles.
"Really?" the prince exclaims, genuinely astounded as Phil grips at his sides helplessly. "That made you laugh, but nothing for my incredibly well-crafted pun - which, may I add, had the Emperor of Japan in hysterics all evening the last time I used it."
"That's so stupid!" Phil replies between barks of laughter. "Why is it you have a ridiculous anecdote for every significant landmark that we pass?"
Dan huffs with annoyance, and turns away, frowning. "I don't know what you mean," he retorts airily, folding his arms with particular emphasis - a tell-tale sign of his, one that Phil has already picked up in the short time they had spent together so far.
"Oh, really?" Phil says - and then, as though having been given a particularly satisfying challenge, he narrows his eyes. "Big Ben."
"Ah, that doesn't count," Dan quickly objects, smiling nervously. "We had innocent intentions, I swear. She only wanted to see the bell - who was I to deny her that? Besides, it wasn't my fault we got stuck in there. And it certainly wasn't my fault that we had nothing else to do to pass the time. Bad luck, really, her husband - the Duke - catching us like that..."
"Christ," Phil mutters, and then goes on to say, louder this time: "Okay then. The Tower of London."
Dan sighs fondly. "A beautiful landmark, really. And so old!"
Phil raises his eyebrows expectedly.
Seeing this, Dan surrenders. "It definitely wasn't my fault that I got food poisoning, okay?" he says hotly. "And I definitely did not intend on ruining the princess' dress like that. Look, two times," he quickly adds. "So sue me!"
Looking triumphant, Phil sings: "The Houses of Parliament," in an agonisingly slow, pointed manner, which sets the prince's teeth on edge.
"All right, I get it!" Dan exclaims. "I definitely should not have started that food fight. In my defence, though, I stopped as soon as the Lord Speaker got hit. It was the other politicians that insisted on finishing. Can we talk about something else now, please?"
"Actually," Phil replies - having, in the meantime, become distracted, "I think that would be for the best." And with that, he grabs Dan's jacket and drags him behind a nearby tree.
Unused to such manhandling, the prince looks indignant. "Hands off!" he cries, squirming to get out of Phil's grip. "What is your problem?"
"Listen," he retorts, reducing his voice to a faint whisper. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'm getting the feeling that we're being followed."
Expecting the prince to look horrified, or better yet, prepared to act, Phil's jaw drops in astonishment when Dan instead looks bored.
"Oh, really?" he yawns. "Big news."
Frustrated, Phil snaps. "Look!" he exclaims, and moves away from the tree long enough to point to a bench on the other side of the pathway. On it, two people are sat, side by side.
Rolling his eyes, Dan obediently directs his attention to where Phil gestures - and fails to see anything out of the ordinary. On one end of the bench, a man blows his nose with meticulous vigour, only to then inspect his tissue closely (much to Dan's disgust). Next to him, a young woman plays idly with a strand of her hair, all the while staring off dreamily into the distance. Bar them, and Dan and Phil, there's no one else nearby.
"Yeah, I see them," he replies cooly. "Not sure what the fuss is, but yeah."
"What if they're journalists for the Daily Mail, huh?" Phil stresses. "What then? Because trust me when I say that that would be the worst case scenario."
"It's fine, really," the prince replies with an indifferent wave of his hand. "I'm used to the tabloids and their lies. I think my favourite was their Illuminati special. According to a bunch of so-called 'reliable' sources, I was the one who converted the Kardashians. I would have sued, but the photos they used were really flattering, so I had it framed instead. It's still on my bedroom wall to this day, you know."
In pure bafflement, Phil finds himself speechless - but not for long. "I think we should leave London," he blurts out suddenly, and then clamps his hand against his mouth. As usual, he had panicked - and as a result, had lost all chances for tact. Not the first time he had done as such, and it wouldn't be the last time either.
"Really?" Dan replies, sounding disappointed. "But I can't go, I have a date tomorrow night."
* * *
"I mean it. Nope. No way! You'll end up murdered, or worse, exposed. And for what? Some silly little kick? Not likely."
Dan rolls his eyes, frustrated by this. "Christ!" he exclaims angrily. "I might as well have done a runner with Esther of all people. Like, I'm pretty sure I left to get away from all this - this judgement. And besides, since when did you care what I choose to do with my time, huh?"
Phil looks mutinous. "Since you paid me to escort you safely in a tour of London!" he all but yells.
"Exactly!" Dan shouts. "I paid you. Thus, we do things my way. And I want to go on a picnic with Chesca."
"Oh, grow up!" shouts Phil.
"Not until you get over yourself first!" screams Dan.
They glare at each other; both breathing heavily. Across the pathway, a number of pedestrians stare at them blankly.
Uncomfortable, Phil mutters: "See! The longer we remain here in London, the more likely we are to draw attention to your identity, and we both don't want that."
Dan doesn't reply to this. Instead, he crosses his arms in silent fury, pretending not to hear his companion.
At this, Phil sighs in defeat. "Look, we'll talk this over in a bit, I promise. I just need to make a quick call first. See that bench over there?" He gestures to one that is empty and within his line of sight. "Sit there, where I can see you and where I know you're out of harm's way. And whatever you do, don't move, okay? I'll be super, super quick!"
* * *
Angrily kicking at the grass, as though imagining it's a certain someone's face, Dan heaves a massive sigh, and sinks lower onto the bench. Arms crossed, lips pursed, he might as well be Esther. Thinking of this makes him feel even more frustrated (if that's possible), and - honestly? - kind of sad. He misses her. Not the nagging or lectures, and especially not her stupid royal schedule, but her company and steady guidance - and also her snarky humour, now he comes to think of it.
He had sent the letter to her, specifically. The one that confirmed his actions and made sure that the royal authorities knew he was okay, really. Already foreseeing her disappointment, he had tried to demonstrate that he had, in fact, thought everything through. He mentioned that he had found a trustworthy friend, and that he would return in time for their departure to whatever country it was they were heading off to next. He also promised not to raise any attention to himself, thus making his parents ashamed.
They'll be mad nonetheless, he knows that, but he feels better for offering some kind of explanation - even if it is only a lame excuse. But the guilt isn't enough to stop him; not now when he's having so much fun - even if his tour guide is a bit of a prick.
He sits up again, and watches the park curiously. It's getting busier, but he's still in Phil's line of sight. Thinking about his companion, he seems to be worried. He talks quickly, and listens carefully to whomever it is he's calling.
Dan's just thinking about asking Phil for more information later when a tallish figure approaches him. He looks up to see a middle-aged man watching him through narrowed eyes and a fierce expression. The stranger then gestures to the bench and cracks his knuckles.
Dan gulps a little.
* * *
"All right, Mum. I love you too," says Phil, who is feeling more than just a little weary after such a long phone call. "I know, I know, I shouldn't have stayed out of touch for as long as I have. The last couple of days have been a bit hectic - no, I'm not fobbing you off with some lame excuse. I mean it. But if it helps, I'm on the verge of something great, okay? Yeah, I'll stay safe. I promise. No, Mum, I already explained this: I don't have a girlfriend. What was that? Mum, can you please leave Debbie's daughter alone. I'm sure she's a lovely person really, but that doesn't mean - yes, I know she's a primary school teacher; trust me, you've made that perfectly clear already. Listen, I love you but I have to go. It's urgent, okay? All right, talk soon. Bye. Bye." And with that, Phil quickly ends the call, before exhaling in relief.
There's a reason why he avoids keeping in regular contact with family members (including his mother - someone he actually loves), and it's entirely to do with their need to question his choices in life. What are you doing with yourself, Philip, they ask. Have you thought of settling down yet? When will we meet this special someone of yours. It's enough to make him want to scream.
So when Phil looks up to see the prince holding a strange man in his arms, it takes what little strength he has to not pull his hair out in exasperation. After all, what had he told the prince, time and time again, huh? To not interact with strangers. And consoling a sobbing man goes against precisely that; even if it is unlikely that they'll alert MI5 when they're crying that hard.
Jogging towards them, Phil hears the prince gently say: "Let it all out, Keith. You shouldn't have to bottle up your feelings like this anymore. You're with friends now, open up." He then pats the stranger's back consolingly.
Phil falters to a stop, unsure of what it is he's witnessing here.
"It's just, I - I try so hard to stay strong," Keith gasps between sobs, "but it's so hard."
"Well, of course," Dan sympathises. The stranger then crumples against him, howling loudly.
"His name is Keith," he explains carefully to Phil, who feels as though he's in some kind of dream, it's that surreal. "His wife and kids left him recently. They gave him some kind of ultimatum, I think - like, he had to choose between them and this conspiracy theory he had - which is really interesting, he was just explaining it to me - and then, they just left. And, I didn't know this until he explained, but he dedicated this bench to them, so when he saw me sitting here, well - it's a good thing I know how to help people connect with their feelings."
Keith sniffs loudly. "It's true," he gasps. "I feel better already."
"See!" Dan says encouragingly, wearing a bright smile. "I told you, you have to open up more. Have you tried talking to your family about how you feel?"
Keith shakes his head. At this, Dan smiles sympathetically. "Don't you get it?" he says, not unkindly, while patting the man's hand gently. "How can they understand when you don't let them in?"
He pauses, letting that sink in. "Now, my friend here," he gestures to Phil, "tells me that we need to go, but I want you to stay in touch, okay? Phil, please can you give him your phone number?"
Phil, who has been reduced to silence up until this very moment, immediately freaks out. "No. No way," he exclaims, holding his hands out before him defensively. "I don't exactly feel comfortable giving out my contact details to old strangers. Besides, that's really irresponsible."
In unison, Keith and Dan look up, both clearly offended - in fact, the prince looks absolutely scandalised. "Phil!" Dan all but shrieks; he moves forwards, so that he now stands between Phil and his new friend, as though protecting the latter's honour. "I don't know where this bad attitude is coming from, really." Turning to Keith, he says: "I do apologise. He's usually a little more restrained than this."
"Okay, fine!" Phil huffs, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation. "Here, let me." And with that, he gives Keith his phone number. He then apologises. "I'm really sorry, I don't know where that came from," he says begrudgingly, and Keith smiles in return - albeit, tearfully. Looking between the two with pride in his eyes, Dan struggles to wipe the relieved beam off his face.
Soon after, Keith leaves the park with the kind of swagger that suggests he's on a mission of some notable kind - Dan suggests that he's on his way to find his family; Phil accuses him of being a romantic, and that he imagines Keith is probably chasing down the kids who stole his shoes instead. Either way, the pair leave Hyde Park themselves feeling more content than they had going there just this morning.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Phil blurts out awkwardly, as they pass through a series of gates. He doesn't want to do this - not here, now now - but after witnessing all of that, he feels as though he should. "I wasn't being very fair, and I shouldn't have lost my temper like that."
The prince smiles - but he seems sad. "It's fine," he replies, unable to meet Phil's gaze. "I'm just glad you and Keith made up, that's all. It's like I always said: You should always give people a second chance. And I lost my temper, too - and for that, I'm really sorry." After a long pause, he adds, reluctantly: "So where do we go now?"
He hates himself for what he's about to say; in fact, he knows that he's going to regret it, but he shakes his head, and says: "Ignore me. I was just being paranoid. You wanted me to show you London - well, I will. That is, if you promise me you won't get too overly involved with strangers."
It takes longer than it should for Dan to realise what he's saying. "Wait," he gasps, clutching at Phil's arm excitedly. "We can stay?" He looks ready to breakdance right here, right now, in the middle of the street, he's that happy.
They stop, loitering awkwardly on the side of a busy road. Numerous red buses hurtle pass them, and it's almost impossible to hear Phil quietly ask: "Is that what you want?"
"Of course!" Dan exclaims, laughing. "It's all I want to do! Well, that - as in sightseeing - as well as my date tomorrow night. Can I still go, Phil? I don't want to let Chesca down."
"How did you even arrange this? Like, how does someone like you get the opportunity to ask someone on a date?" Phil asks, genuinely curious.
"Oh, it's a cute story," Dan replies, blushing a little. "She had this advert in the paper I was reading. Said something about wanting a Prince Charming. Thought I might as well try. You know what they say: Dip your toe into the pool of possibility, and all that. Never really been one for commitment, I have to admit, but it seems like good fun. Please can I go? Pretty, pretty please!"
"Christ!" Phil exclaims, distracted by something on the other side of the road. He takes steps forward - almost getting hit by a taxi, whose driver angrily flips Phil off in response. "Is that Becca?"
"What - Who? It doesn't matter; don't change the subject," retorts Dan.
"I keep seeing her, I swear," he mutters, ignoring his companion. "This must be the seventh time in the last two days. Am I hallucinating? Is she -"
"Phil!"
"What? Oh, right, yeah," he stammers. "You can go, of course. But don't get your hopes up. Dating is a terrible business."
Dan doesn't seem to be listening. "I'll need to prepare for tomorrow of course. It's going to be a picnic in the park - exciting, I know! - and there's a few things we're going to need to acquire for it. I've already prepared a list, so -"
Phil zones out. He's too busy having flashbacks of his latest date.
"And of course, to say thank you, I'll take you to dinner. I'll plan it, pay for it, you name it. It's the least I can do for a friend like you," says Dan, who smiles sweetly. "We can get to know each other better. I hardly know anything about you," he laughs. "It's almost concerning."
This immediately grabs Phil's attention.
"Yes!" he exclaims in agreement, thinking of the information he can get from such a conversation. "That would be great!"
"Then it's settled," Dan replies contentedly. "But first, let's get ready!" And with that, he links arms with Phil - who is plotting away happily - and drags him towards the centre of London.
A/N: It's so hot and moist in England atm, I'm lit dying. Help! I keep trying to combat the heat. Went outside - didn't work; instead, I got invaded by an armada of ants. Had no choice BUT to retreat back inside. I open my windows, only to let in half of England's population of insects into my room. Now I'm just lying on my floor, sweating, waiting for death's sweet embrace.
As for this chapter, I HAVE NOT HAD A CHANCE TO EDIT IT. I'VE BEEN WRITING THIS ONE FOR A MONTH, LITERALLY ONE CHAPTER FOR A MONTH. IT'S TAKING TOO LONG AND MY BRAINS FEELS ALL SLUGGY AND GROSS, so I'll wait a bit then go over and re-examine this. Like, it's okay enough to be published and stuff, it's just not GREAT. IDK man.
Also, I need more of Dan and Phil trekking across London. That Pokemon GO video was Dan and Phil GOALS!
Love y'all. Hope none of you guys are suffering too badly. In the meantime, STAY SAFE AND HAVE FUN!