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blackpool, 2019

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Dan wakes to the morning sun shining in too brightly in the window. He blinks against the unwelcome invasion of wakefulness into what had been a nice dream, but he realizes his blurry eyes are taking in the sight of Phil naked and bending over and suddenly starting his day has a little more appeal.

He reaches out and grabs, because he can't not when it's within grabbing distance.

Phil yelps away from the nightstand he'd been digging through. "Dan!" He says, affronted.

Dan smiles and rubs his face against the pillow. "I'm cute."

There's a smug bluntness in his voice. Phil can't argue facts.

But he can roll his eyes, so he does. "I showered."

"I can tell." Dan reaches out again, squeezing a cheek.

This time Phil allows it, though he doesn't let it get in the way of his stepping into a pair of black pants and pulling them up. Dan watches with passive interest as Phil adjusts himself in them and then turns again, finding a t-shirt.

Dan whines.

Phil translates the whine with no effort. "Breakfast," he says, always the barrier between Dan and morning sex.

Dan rolls over onto his back and stretches out, kicking the blankets away from his body. He stretches again, because it feels nice, and he wants Phil to look and see what he's giving up for a fucking sausage and toast.


It's not even that much of a holiday. They've traveled the world and eaten in five star hotels. They're sky bar connoisseurs. They've had bottles of wine that cost more than a night in their current hotel.

Okay, that was just the once. But Dan still likes to hold it in his memory as a sign of great esteem.

"I can't believe we're here," Phil says, laughing and shielding his eyes from that unrelenting sun.

Dan grins at him openly. "I know."

"I can't believe you're in such a good mood," Phil adds.

There's a little more to that one, but Dan just shrugs. He knows Phil doesn't mean it in a bad way. "Guess it's all the memories."


It's not just the memories, but - there are those, too.

Blackpool was the first proper trip they took together. The first hotel room they shared. They first time they held hands in public. They were still sorting themselves out back then, but they felt like the world stretched in front and all around them and somehow like they were the only people in the universe all at the same time.

Portugal was nice. That was the trip they really wanted. Jamaica and Los Angeles - those happened too. But by then life felt like whirlwind.

Blackpool just... felt like their escape. It felt like exactly the escape they needed back in those early days.

And it feels like exactly the one they need right now.


They've only booked two nights.

That's all they'll really need, Dan thinks.

Two days to wander the golden sands and eat too much and laugh together. Phil wear his glasses and barely puts any product in his hair, so he has to keep pushing it back with his fingers. Dan's in one of his simpler t-shirts and jeans with rips at the knees.

When they ask a woman to take a picture of them in front of the water, Dan's reasonably sure she has no idea who they actually are.

It's pretty fucking spectacular, all told.


They go on a proper date to a little Mediterranean place recommended to them by the girl behind the desk at the hotel.

They wouldn't have been able to afford to really splash out during that first trip. Dan remembers fish on the chips while they sat on the shore and he's fond for the memory but fonder still for the plate in front of him.

Dessert is a mascerated strawberry pavlova that Dan declares without hesitation has brought him more orgasmic pleasure than any human could ever hope to obtain.

Phil says they better order seconds of it then .


They have proper decade-in sex that night, laughter and still (always) too much lube and leg cramps and swapping positions when one of them gets too out of breath.

It's fantastic, everything Dan wants out of a romp, and he ends it whining Phil's name with his nails digging into Phil's shoulders, feeling split apart and put back together by the thickness of Phil inside of him and the weight of Phil's body resting down on his.

They shower after because of Dan and his thing about leaking on the sheets, touching giddily under the spray and kissing like they were young again.


Dan wakes up first the next morning.

They'll have to leave by check out time, and it's like his mind just knows it.

He looks at the clock; a few hours, still.

He looks out the window next. The sun's already up, but it must be early. Everything looks soft and dusted pink.

He gets the inkling of an idea and nudges Phil away.

"What?" Phil grumbles. "G'way."

"We should go for a walk on the beach," Dan says. He sounds sleepy, too, his own voice thick with it.

Phil opens his eyes enough to squint at Dan. "You're not that cute," he says, and rolls over.

He takes half the duvet with him. Dan has to yank it back.

He could go alone. But he yawns and looks out the window then lets his eyes sink shut again. A midday walk is probably just as nice as an early morning one, yeah?

He rolls over and tucks himself in just a bit too close to Phil. Phil grumbles again but doesn't actually push Dan away. Dan kisses his shoulder once then decides to follow in Phil's footsteps and sleep for a few more hours.