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Dan closes the piano lid with a sigh and stretches his arms above his head, releasing the tension in his shoulders. He’s been hunched over the keys for the best part of an hour, trying to perfect a few particularly tricky bars. He’s pleased that he’s made some progress, however slow, but his back is punishing him for it now.
He looks around and sees that Phil’s no longer sprawled on the couch. Phil loves hearing Dan play, but not so much the tedious part of the process when Dan will run through the same small section of a piece over and over again, slowing it down until the music finds its way into his fingers and flows back out again in exactly the way he wants it to. It’s an effective way to learn, but it’s not pretty, and he doesn’t blame Phil for making himself scarce.
He picks up the pile of sheet music scattered on top of the piano and shuffles it together, catching a glimpse of another piece he’d poured hours into perfecting. Much as he’s spent so long working on this new song, he doesn’t think he’ll post this one online. He’s discovered that piano content goes down well, but this feels a little too personal, something he wants to keep for himself.
It took a while to find a piano version of the music, but he persevered and was eventually rewarded. He’d known he wanted to learn it as soon as he saw the clip from last week's episode of Strictly Come Dancing, seeing John and Johannes dance their paso doble to it, stalking across the dancefloor with such strength and passion that it had taken his breath away. He’s always turned to music to help him process emotions he can't or won't say out loud, and seeing the way the two men moved together, not holding back or hiding what they were feeling had brought up a whole heap of complicated feelings that Dan's still trying to parse.
He wanders through to the kitchen where he’s treated to the sight of Phil shimmying along to whatever’s playing in his headphones, while he chops up vegetables for a stir fry. Dan leans against the doorframe, a bemused smile on his lips as he watches.
There’s a reason that even though they’re both awkward and gangly, he was the one the producers approached back when he and Phil were the hottest new thing on Radio 1, and Strictly was looking for a way to attract younger viewers.
It was back when they’d still felt obliged to say yes to pretty much every request that was made of them, terrified that this new life they were building for themselves could slip through their fingers at any moment. It seemed the only way to escape the fear was to just keep moving forward, keep nodding and smiling and agreeing to whatever opportunities came their way, even when it got them into some pretty awkward situations.
But with this, Dan had had to draw the line. He still remembers the nauseous look on Phil’s face at the thought of telling the producers that Dan didn’t want to take the job. Phil had convinced himself it would be a huge black mark against their names to turn it down, that it might jeopardise their whole radio career. Dan had tried to reassure him, had joked weakly about his two left feet making him such a liability that the production team wouldn’t be able to afford the insurance they’d need against him doing someone serious damage.
They both knew the real issue was Dan dancing with a female partner and having to look like he really wanted to be there, having to make the audience believe there was chemistry between them. He knew he wasn’t that good an actor, and he was convinced he’d somehow give himself away live on national TV, that somehow people would look at him and just know.
Phil eventually conceded that an accidental coming out would be more of a threat to their careers than any possible consequences of turning the show down, and Dan had breathed a sigh of relief.
It still makes his heart hurt if he thinks too much about the scared kids they were back then. He draws in a deep breath and takes a moment to ground himself in the present moment, to connect with who they are now and how far they’ve come.
Just then, Phil senses he’s being watched and looks up.
“Hey,” he says with a soft smile as he pulls off his headphones. “You’re done now? I thought I’d get everything prepped while I waited.”
Dan nods his thanks, sitting down on one of the stools at the island to watch Phil work.
“Rice or noodles?” Phil asks, popping a slice of carrot in his mouth.
“Noodles, but the good ones, not the shitty ones you like,” Dan replies.
Phil waves his knife in Dan’s direction. “Not wise to insult the chef you know,” he chides Dan.
Dan holds up his hands in a conciliatory gesture as Phil fills a pan with water and puts it on to boil. Dan knows better than to keep talking to him, knowing that Phil needs to put his full focus on the task at hand if the dinner’s going to turn out edible.
It’s all so revoltingly domestic, everything that their younger selves had wanted but weren’t sure they’d ever have the courage to get. Dan marvels at how this has become his life, a life where he can proudly announce that he and Phil have built a home together without giving a shit about what people might think. Where they can build a life together without worrying about labels. Where he’s found the courage to only make the work he wants to make, even if that means his YouTube channel boasts a sum total of only two (very gay) videos in as many years.
It was that courage in his convictions that allowed him to say no without too much angst when Strictly came knocking again in the wake of his coming out, asking him to be part of the first ever same-sex couple on the show. He totally supported the idea, loved the thought of seeing that kind of representation on primetime TV, but he knew it wasn’t for him.
The attention, the publicity, the inevitable hate that would come alongside the messages of support, he just wasn’t interested in putting himself through that. As a baby gay trying to navigate this new and sometimes overwhelming world he found himself in, he knew he needed time and space to adjust at his own pace, so he’d politely declined.
He has to admit, there’s a little edge of regret and of envy now that someone else has taken on the challenge and is doing so amazingly well. Sometimes he finds himself daydreaming about how it might feel to have a man hold him in his arms and sweep him across a dancefloor, to learn how to express the passion and grace of the music through his body.
But that’s just a fantasy. In reality, he’d probably hate it, getting sweaty and exhausted and being forced to wear all sorts of ridiculous and colourful costumes and do endless interviews and –
“Ow!”
Dan looks up to see Phil at the sink, turning on the cold tap and sticking his hand underneath it. “The oil spat at me,” he explains, sticking out his bottom lip and looking sorry for himself.
Dan shakes his head as he gets off the stool and pushes up his sleeves. “Idiot,” he says affectionately, as he picks up the spatula and takes over at the hob.
This is the only partnership that really matters, he thinks to himself. What’s 12 weeks of being swept up in the whirlwind that is Strictly, compared to 12 years of this?