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Phil shifts uncomfortably where he’s sitting on the hard floor of the dance studio. He's had more hours of rehearsal today than he'd like to think about, the same way he always does in the days leading up to opening night, and he's feeling the strain. He thinks longingly about heading home and running himself a bath to soothe his muscles, but he knows that being here for Dan is more important right now.
He watches Dan who’s in the centre of the room, spinning several times on the spot, pausing and then doing it again. It looks like he’s trying the same move over and again in slightly different ways, his expression growing more dissatisfied each time.
The two of them always had different approaches to their work, even when they were teenagers at ballet school. Everyone there had fought hard for their place, and it was a difficult adjustment for many of them to go from being the top dog at their dance school back home to suddenly having an entire class of peers who were just as skilled they were.
Phil thrived in the new environment almost straight away, his quiet confidence in his own abilities along with his open, friendly nature helping him to settle in without too much trouble, but it had been more difficult for Dan. His single-minded focus on proving he was good enough to be there, both to himself and to everyone around him, resulted in a dogged determination to push himself to his limits, and that didn't leave much time or energy for being sociable and making friends.
But gradually, Phil managed to get behind Dan’s walls, and to both their surprise they discovered they had a lot more in common than it first appeared. Over time, Dan was able to open up and let himself be vulnerable to the point where Phil was the first person Dan ever told that he thought he might be gay. Phil had been pretty open about his sexuality since his early teens, but Dan was carrying a lot more baggage.
Their friendship gradually developed into something more not long after that, but for years Dan vehemently denied it to anyone who dared to ask. Over time and with a not inconsiderable amount of therapy, his defensiveness had mellowed so that when he and Phil’s careers had started to take off and interest in their personal lives had grown, he’d been able to handle it with ease. Eventually, he felt ready to come out publicly, and earlier that year he gave an interview where he discussed his struggle to accept his sexuality, and at the same time politely deflected any questions about his relationship with Phil.
"Why doesn’t this feel right?" Dan mutters, irritation evident in his voice.
Phil never knows in these situations whether Dan actually wants his input, or just needs to voice his frustration. He's spent the last few weeks working on a piece to be performed at a fundraising event for a dance company that focuses on pushing the boundaries of gender and sexuality in dance, raising the profile of queer dancers and choreographers alike.
Dan had talked Phil through what he wanted the piece to convey about the frustration and conflict he’d felt over the years, growing up in the world of ballet with it's heteronormativity and strict gender roles.
Back in his childhood ballet classes, it hadn't taken Dan long to realise that he wasn't supposed to perform the moves he was learning in the same way as the girls in his class, that he had to train his body out of so many of it's natural instincts because they didn't fit the mould for male dancers.
He wanted to show the effects of years of being constantly corrected and reprimanded until he'd learned to pack away the parts of himself that weren't acceptable, the ones that sometimes wanted to move in softer, gentler ways, that wanted the chance to express elegance and beauty with his body as well as strength.
The problem is that despite all the time Dan has spent on it, Phil can see it just isn't coming together the way that Dan wants it to.
Dan shakes his head, and then switches to run through a different section from towards the end where the quality of his movement shifts between restriction and freedom, changing more and more quickly and frantically until he finally finds a resolution, discovering a way of dancing that reconciles the two.
Phil thinks back to those early days when Dan first found the courage to talk to him how much conflict he felt within himself when dancing the roles he was assigned in the traditional ballets they were learning in class. Phil hadn’t really understood what Dan was trying to explain, so he’d found a little-used practice room and sneaked down there with Dan one evening so Dan could show Phil what he meant.
He saw the freedom, the relief on Dan’s face when he no longer had to hold himself so much in check and could dance with authenticity. Before long, Phil had joined him, watching the way Dan moved and taking that as a cue to figure out how to move with him, sometimes mirroring his actions, sometimes contrasting them.
Phil has heard Dan say more than once that he would have given up on ballet without the outlet that those late nights gave him, the freedom to just be two bodies moving together to the music, finding joy and wonder in expressing themselves with no expectations, no boundaries, nothing forbidden.
They took the steps they learned during the day and transformed them in a way that felt at the same thrillingly transgressive, but also just like coming home. Phil saw the lightness and joy that radiated from Dan on those stolen nights and felt a fierce sense of protectiveness that made him realise what they had together was more than just a schoolboy romance. He realised at that point that he was in this for the long haul, that he always wanted to be the one who was there to witness this version of Dan that he only trusted Phil to see.
Phil brings his attention back to Dan and can tell that even this part of the dance that seems almost complete doesn't seem to satisfy Dan. He heads over to pick up his notebook from the top of the piano, jotting down several notes, pausing and then scribbling most of them out again.
Phil knows that expression that's clouding Dan's face, can see that he is starting to turn in on himself in a spiral of insecurity and self doubt.
Dan is usually such an instinctive dancer, it's one of the few times his busy head gets a little quiet and it's hard for Phil to watch him tie himself up in knots over this, feeling like it can’t be anything less than perfect.
Phil stands up and runs through a few stretches, getting his body used to moving again after too long sitting still.
Dan doesn’t even notice him until Phil’s standing right in front of him, holding out a hand.
He looks up from his book. "What are you doing?" he asks, his head still clearly in his work.
"I want you to dance with me," Phil replies simply.
Dan frowns, opens his mouth to reply but Phil talks right over him.
"You're not doing yourself any favours getting yourself all worked up about this, you need a bit of distraction.
Dan hesitates for a moment, and Phil can see him considering whether he’s got time to humour Phil’s request, but then his resolve seems to waver and he grabs Phil’s hand.
Phil sets his phone down on the piano and leads Dan towards the centre of the room. A few moments later, the soft sound of violins floats through the air.
Dan gives Phil an indulgent look when he recognises the music, the accompaniment to the first ever dance they’d choreographed together. They start to move, their bodies falling effortlessly into sync as they run through the long familiar steps. Their abilities as dancers have moved way beyond the simplicity of this dance over the years, but there are still echoes of the exhilaration Dan felt at finally finding the courage to express himself in this way.
Dan’s arms move gracefully through the air, his hands gentle and delicate with little sign of the posturing and masculinity that is expected of a male dancer. And in response, Phil lets go of convention as well, not giving in to the instinct to provide a contrast to Dan's movements but instead allowing them both to sit in an ambiguous place outside of gender norms.
Dancing with Phil was vital to Dan when he was trying so desperately to understand what being a man meant, whether it could allow space for him to reconcile both his more masculine and feminine traits. Eventually he came to realise how little labels really meant, that he was free to define them in his own way or choose to ignore them altogether, and Phil saw what a weight lifted from Dan’s shoulders when he was finally able to set it all aside and simply focus on what made him happy.
As the music comes to an end, they stand face to face, breathless and grinning, and Phil can't help pulling Dan in for a kiss. Dan loses himself in Phil for a few moments, then pulls away and looks at him in mock disapproval.
"I see what you're up to but I'm not going to let myself be that easily distracted," he says, a smile bubbling below his stern expression.
"How can I help myself when you look like that?" Phil protests, waving a hand in the direction of Dan's face. but unable to find a way to describe the happy, relaxed air that Dan was now giving off. "You're all...glowy."
Dan laughs as he wipes his forehead on the sleeve of his t-shirt and says "I think the word you're looking for is sweaty.”
Before Phil can respond, he sees Dan glance over at where his notebook is sitting, and sees the tension start to take root in Dan’s body again.
"That’s what you need to show in your dance," he blurts out without thinking. "You don't need to make it all about the dark times, you can make it about the joy. I mean, that's what it's all for in the end, right? Pushing boundaries and raising awareness, it's all about being able to dance in a way that makes you feel free. How better to celebrate that than to show this version of yourself?"
Dan looks uncertain. "I don't know if I can," he says hesitantly. "I just...I don't know if I'm ready to be that vulnerable, to let myself really be seen."
He pauses, mulling the idea over. "Besides, I have no idea how I'd make that into a solo piece."
Phil’s responding before he even quite realises what’s coming out of his mouth.
"What if you didn’t have to?" he asks.
Dan blinks at him in surprise. "Really? You think we should do it together?"
They had long discussions when Dan told Phil he was ready to come out, figuring out what it would mean for the "we're just room mates" line that they hid behind for years. In the end, they decided that they didn’t need to address it, they could just carry on as they always had, leaving things deliberately ambiguous and letting people make up their own minds.
But this would really be pushing the boundaries of plausible deniability. They both knew how expressive their faces were when they danced, how their feelings for each other poured out of every glance, every touch.
"We wouldn't technically be confirming anything," Phil reasons. "I mean, people might just praise our incredible acting talent and promote us to Principal," he says, knocking his shoulder against Dan's.
A slow smile starts to creep over Dan's face as he lets himself think through what Phil is suggesting, lets himself consider whether he might have the courage to do something with Phil that he couldn't imagine doing on his own.
Eventually, he speaks. "Yeah, okay," he says, letting out a breath which sounds a little like a sigh of relief.
"Okay?" Phil says, watching Dan's face intently. The last thing he'd want is to push Dan into something he'd later regret.
Dan returns Phil’s gaze and nods his head.
"Okay," he says, now with real certainty. "I mean, the dance will need some refining though," he adds, and Phil sees his mind shifting into gear, suddenly alight with possibilities, his creativity and energy back with a bang.
He smiles at Phil, hands on his hips. "Right then, we’ve got some work to do."