Chapter Text
"Phil, wake the fuck up!" an unfamiliar voice called. Phil opened his eyes groggily, a headache pounding relentlessly behind his eyes. Something was thrown into his face and he flinched backward, groaning.
"Dude, how much did you have to drink last night?" a second voice laughed, and then the thing that had been thrown at his face, a t-shirt, was being picked up. Two curious faces, ones that Phil didn't recognize, peered down at him.
"Shit, you're really out of it," one of the men said, starting to look concerned. "Do you feel all right?"
"Who are you?" Phil finally managed to say, his tongue heavy and thick in his mouth, uncooperative.
"If you think we're falling for that shit again then you're sorely mistaken, Philip," the second man quipped. He had blond hair and a squared jaw, and he rolled his green eyes at Phil's supposed antics.
"Come on, we're gonna be late," the first man said. He had dark skin, his hair shaved close to his scalp, with pointed features, softened by his large square glasses. "Jason's already made us late enough as it is."
"Yeah right!" the blond man protested, presumably Jason. "Phil, tell Davion that we wouldn't be nearly as late every day if he didn't spend so much time choosing what to wear." Jason sat down on the foot of Phil's bed as he spoke, reclining into a more comfortable position.
"Stand up!" Davion growled, grabbing Jason's hands and hauling him out of bed. "And you too, Phil! It's your own fault that you missed my awesome cooking skills."
"Don't even joke!" Jason responded immediately, mockingly scared. "He wouldn't do that to you Phil, your breakfast is in the microwave."
"And it'll be in the trash if you're not up and eating it in five minutes," Davion stalked to the door, Jason hot on his heels. He stopped at the door jam, turning to glare at Phil who was still lying in bed. "So get up!"
And then Phil was alone, his mind whirling and his stomach turning. What the hell was going on? Who were these people? And where was he? His entire surroundings were foreign to him and panic began to build inside of him, churning in his stomach. He was supposed to be at home, waking up with his boyfriend wrapped in his arms. Surely Dan was worried sick about him right now! How was he supposed to explain how he'd gotten here anyway? Or how these people somehow knew him?
Deciding that more answers probably lied outside of the bed rather than in it, Phil clambered out of the (strangely expensive and exotic) bed and padded over to his closet. He glanced down at his feet, surprised to see them bare. He never slept without socks! And furthermore, these weren't the pajamas he'd fallen asleep in! He didn't own silk pajamas, much less ones that had a matching top and bottom and felt more expensive than his entire wardrobe.
Phil yanked open the door to his wardrobe. Or maybe he was wrong, maybe his pajamas weren't more expensive than his wardrobe. None of these clothes were Phil's! They were fancy and pricey looking, and Phil struggled to find something that he would actually enjoy wearing. He ended up choosing a pair of black skinny jeans and a complicated mesh shirt, that disturbingly left his belly button on display. He donned a pair of socks (all folded neatly and paired together) before shoving his feet into some foreign shoes and disappearing out the door.
He immediately found himself in a large hallway lined with doors, and he randomly picked a direction and ventured that way, staring around curiously. The entire place seemed to be decked out with extravagant and unneeded decorations, and finally Phil found his way to a staircase which he descended, figuring the kitchen would be on the ground floor.
His palms were sweating uncomfortably with nerves. He was getting no more answers than he'd had when he'd woken up, instead only becoming more and more confused the further he went. Where was he? And how did he get here? And why did he suddenly seem to be filthy rich?
Phil found the kitchen with further exploring, and as he crossed into it, spotting the microwave, a familiar face ventured out of a second door, slowly chewing an apple held prissily in his hand.
"Dan!" Phil exclaimed, relieved. He rushed forward, prepared to embrace Dan, the only familiarity in this strange situation. Words were falling from his lips like water in a stream, he was so relieved. "You're here too! Oh, thank god! But how—"
He stopped abruptly, biting his lip and halting the procession of words spilling forth, as Dan sneered at him. His eyes traced their way from Phil's head to his toes, lingering on Phil's exposed stomach, before coming back up to his eyes.
"Lester," Dan said disdainfully, leaning back against the counter behind him. He glanced at his apple consideringly, still poised delicately in his hand, before dropping it into a trash can by his side, not even half eaten. "What are you shouting about?"
Phil blinked, suddenly realizing that Dan wasn't wearing a single clothing item that he recognized. And, on a closer look, saw that Dan was wearing eye liner. And... pink lipstick?
"Um..."
"Still insisting on wearing those ridiculous shirts then?" Dan remarked, looking away from his nails which he was picking at. And, belatedly, and feeling surprised even though he probably shouldn't be, he realized that Dan's nails were painted a dark purple-y gray.
Phil felt indignant (on who's behalf, he didn't know, because he clearly wasn't this Phil, and that wasn't his Dan) and he glared at the foreign Dan. "You're the one wearing lipstick. And nail polish."
Dan glared right back at him, opening his mouth the retort with undoubtedly another rude thing, when Davion entered the kitchen. "Jesus, not this early in the morning! You two promised not to argue in the mornings, they're bad enough as it is!"
"Lester started it," Dan said childishly. "He called me Dan."
Davion rolled his eyes. "Have you two eaten?"
"No," answered Phil, just as Dan said, "yes."
"You had like two bites of an apple," Phil argued. Dan sent him a death glare.
"Eat Dan," Davion chastised. "Your ribs are showing."
"Assholes," Dan muttered, but he grabbed one of the two dishes from the microwave and picked at the plate of eggs.
"Now can we get a fucking move on?" Davion demanded. "We're late. As always."
"It's part of our image," Dan responded with a shrug. "Crazy pop stars. Doesn't listen to authority. Late."
Phil forced himself to shut his gaping mouth. Pop stars? There was no fucking way.
Incredibly, Phil was starting to feel like he'd been thrown into another world altogether. Or perhaps a different universe. One where he was a famous pop star and not a famous YouTuber. One where he and Dan, for some reason, hated each other but were in the same band.
He surreptitiously wiped his sweaty hands on his jean-clad thighs. If he was here, then where was the Phil of this universe? Was he currently waking up with Dan (Phil's Dan) his supposed arch enemy?
"Phil I swear to god, if you don't have eggs in your mouth in two seconds I'm gonna punch you in the face," Davion threatened, breaking Phil out of his thoughts. Now probably wasn't the time to question what the fuck was happening to him anyway, now was the time to blend in and try to get back to his own life, his own universe, somehow.
Phil scrambled to get to the microwave, snatching the plate and shoveling eggs into his mouth to please Davion. Possibly the best tasting eggs Phil had ever eaten greeted his tongue, and he moaned appreciatively.
"Thank you," Davion said with a sniff, seemingly satisfied now that everyone had or was eating and was enjoying his cooking.
Dan rolled his eyes in annoyance. "He always does that," he scoffed. "He's probably just trying to sweeten you up. Get in your pants."
Phil blushed at the crude language, and also at that fact that his boyfriend-who-wasn't-really-his-boyfriend was saying that.
"Just cause Phil decided to come out doesn't give you the right to be a dick to him," Jason admonished, appearing in the doorway.
"But he likes dicks," Dan argued.
"You're a dick," Phil said, because this Dan, this alternate universe Dan, was.
"Well I want nothing to do with your ass," Dan said primly. Phil glared viciously. Yeah, Dan obviously didn't want anything to do with Phil's ass because he was the one who was obsessed with bottoming. Phil couldn't bottom even if he wanted to, Dan loved it so much.
"Stop being a homophobe, Dan," Davion said distractedly, scrolling on his phone. He appeared to be the most responsible one, kind of like a parent to the others.
Dan mumbled something about not being a homophobe but went ignored.
"Ready?" Davion said finally, getting nods from the assembled band. They all exited through a third door in the kitchen which led to a garage. Davion pulled out car keys.
"Shot gun!" Jason called, bolting to the passenger side and standing guard beside the door.
"No!" Dan groaned. "Let's take the limo!" he pleaded.
"No," Davion and Jason argued immediately, both already opening the car doors.
Dan looked at Phil, as if expecting to share an exasperated look, but Phil's expression was indifferent.
"You're acting really fucking weird today," Dan commented, resolutely making his way to the back seat. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?" Phil said immediately, because for some reason, stranded in a world that wasn't his and confused beyond belief, he decided to isolate himself even more instead of coming clean. Not that this asshole version of Dan would even believe him anyway.
"Because we love the limo! If there's one thing we can agree on it's that the only acceptable mode of transportation is a limo, not Davion's smelly car."
And it was smelly. Phil wrinkled his nose at the stench as he slid into the cramped backseat. Dan held himself primly, even when smushed into the small space, and he looked around the dirty car with disdain before crossing his arms.
"Clean you're fucking car, Davion," he muttered.
"It's natural musk."
"It's moldy food, is what it is!" Dan argued, but then shut up. The garage opened to reveal a gigantic yard, filled with an orchard and a lake, all encased by a fence. Phil let out a startled, amazed breath, and Dan heard the noise, turning to look at the lawn too.
"Oh I know, they still haven't mowed the lawn! It's not like we ever go outside anyway."
"Well I would if the lawn was mowed," Jason butted in from the front seat. "Long grass makes my ankles itch."
Davion ignored their complaining and drove out of the garage and down the ridiculously long driveway. As they got out onto the main road a pair of security-looking cars not-so-discreetly followed them.
"Where are we going again?" Phil asked stupidly, because why the hell would the him from this universe not know?
Thankfully everyone just thought he was being a forgetful idiot and picked on him. "Our album, Phil? Remember that? That thing that we're currently creating in the studio?"
Phil laughed nervously. "Oh yeah," he said weakly. He was going to have to go record music with his experienced band today? What were they going to say when Phil inevitably sucked ass? And what part did he play in the band anyway?
The radio was soon turned on and Phil was relieved to find that he knew most of the songs, the same popular ones that he was familiar with. That is, until a few unfamiliar chords filled the car and his bandmates cheered.
"Turn it up!" Dan called, his eyes filling with an excited, exhilarated light.
Words that Phil didn't know soon filled the car, though it was obviously Dan singing. It was cute to see the band so excited about their own music, so proud, and Phil felt something like a tinge of jealousy in his stomach for a life he didn't have. That was ridiculous, of course, because he had a loving boyfriend and a wonderful career waiting for him back at home. The tinge of jealousy quickly morphed into homesickness, making him almost miss the jealous feeling.
"Take it, Phil!" Jason called, as Phil-on-the-radio started singing. Phil spluttered, unsure how he was going to explain away not knowing the words, when Dan laughed.
"You know he hates singing for you guys," he laughed, and Phil laughed nervously with him. "Only at practice and concerts, or did you forget?" Davion and Jason rolled their eyes and laughed too, but they didn't seem to think it was odd that Phil wouldn't sing for them, and they quickly joined in on the singing as well (they were clearly not the singers of the band, however).
His relationship with Dan continued to perturb him. They clearly hated each other, that much was clear from the morning in the kitchen, but they seemed to respect each other music-wise. And apparently transportation wise, as well. His head hurt from this whole day, from everything that was happening, and it wasn't even noon. He had to get back to his real life.
--
Once at the studio he and Dan split off from Davion and Jason, who went to go learn the sheet music for their new songs. Apparently the whole band had written all their songs, and now it was up to Dan and Phil to learn the words.
Dan threw himself onto a comfortable looking couch, snatching a packet of papers off the coffee table in front of it. Phil made to sit next to Dan, who glared and stretched out his legs pointedly. Phil rolled his eyes and grabbed the second packet, retreating to lounge in an armchair.
The words were all there in the packet accompanied by a flurry of musical notes and signs that Phil could make neither hide nor tail of. Dan was already singing under his breath, going over a line again and again until he'd gotten it right. His voice did sound very nice, as did the Dan's from his universe, but this one was clearly more practiced and with more expertise.
Phil found himself hurriedly googling what the different music notes meant and how to sing them. Luckily, he was familiar with singing and pitches from basic music classes back in school. Dan was still flicking through the packet, already nearly half way through.
Now that he understood the notes (barely) Phil knew that he should start copying Dan, should learn how to sing the songs. He couldn't help staying silent though, flicking through the pages and refusing to sing a single note. He felt too anxious and nervous. What if he started singing and immediately sounded horrible, catching Dan's attention? What if he was thrown out of the band for suddenly being so bad?
"It's always the same with you, isn't it?" Dan drawled, untangling his long limbs from their position on the couch and stalking towards Phil. He perched himself on the edge of Phil's armchair, snatching his song packet out of his hand. "Let me help you then."
And so Dan helped him, bitching at him and picking on him as he did, but helping him efficiently so that he understood how every song went. Dan would sing a line, and Phil would imitate his tone. They'd sing each line a couple times, before singing the next few, then going back and putting them all together. Dan's packet had slightly different sounding lines, seeing as they were harmonizing most of the time.
After Dan helped Phil learn his parts, he retrieved his own packet and sat cross legged on the coffee table in front of Phil. Together they went through the songs, singing their respective parts over and over until they'd gotten them all down. It took a couple hours, but by the end of it they were satisfied with the way they sounded.
Singing with Dan made Phil feel even more homesick, as it was just like singing with Dan at home, as they cooked together in the mornings or jokingly performed in the shower. Plus, this Dan wasn't being mean to him while they were singing, and it made him long for it not to stop. He hated arguing with Dan, seeing Dan's lips snipe at him, hearing his voice insult him.
"I'm starving," Phil complained once they were finished. Dan scoffed.
"When aren't you hungry?"
"Let's go eat," Phil suggested, trying to persuade Dan.
"You go eat," he snarled. "I'm going to keep practicing."
Phil shrugged and made his way out of the sound proof room. Dan had eaten even less than him that morning; it was surprising that he wasn't even hungrier that Phil. Plus it would've been nice to have Dan lead him to the kitchen.
He did end up finding it eventually, thanks to the loud voices of Davion and Jason coming through it. Phil appeared in the doorway, his stomach rumbling.
"Where's Dan?" Jason asked, before shoving a cheese covered cracker in his mouth.
"He said he wasn't hungry," Phil replied.
"Duh," Davion said. "It's your job to get him to come anyway."
Phil was confused, but he accepted the two sandwiches Davion handed him anyway, heading back the way he came.
He handed one to Dan once he returned, and Dan glared at him but snatched it anyway, ripping chunks off to nibble on.
Phil sank into the armchair as he ate his sandwich, lost in thought. He knew he had to somehow get himself back to his real life, but he couldn't let the life he had here get messed up either. He had to maintain it as he figured out how to get back. Hopefully it was all just some fluke of the universe and he would wake up the next morning back in his bed, Dan wrapped up in his arms. Maybe this wasn't even happening at all, just a strange and vivid dream.
Soon he and Dan were heading over to a new room, a room full of producers where they were forced to stand behind tinted glass, thick headphones covering their ears as they sang into microphones. Phil went along with it, trying to stamp down on his pride, to not let it shine through, when Dan had songs where he played piano as well, his fingers moving elegantly across the keys, beautiful music pouring forth.
Phil didn't know how it was possible for there to be a universe where he and Dan weren't in love, but then again, maybe he could help to change that. Maybe if he wasn't home by the next time he woke up then he could help this universe's Phil. After all, Dan and Phil were made for each other, and they could get through anything. Even if that something was apparently the hatred that they harbored for each other.