Chapter Text
Phil wakes from a rather pleasant dream about something that isn’t very pleasant, if he’s to be honest. He’s shopping at Tesco with his mother and she’s loading the cart up with his favourite foods for whatever reason.
He’s stood there in the checkout lane while his mother tells him to go on and pick something from the rows of chocolate bars and for some reason, they’re all the king-sized kind and he’s reaching for one as she tells him that they have to hurry up, they have to get back and prepare for the party.
There’s just a sense of something wonderful coming and so while shopping for groceries isn’t particularly a great thing, he’s happy, and he can’t wait for the party and as he’s helping load the items onto the conveyer belt, he wakes up.
Phil opens his eyes and blinks hazily a couple of times, staring at the fabric of his pillow sheet and his arm sprawled out in front of him. Letting his brain collect itself, he feels the last remnants of the dream disappear as he tries to remember just what was happening.
Propping himself up on his elbows, he stretches out his legs and arches up, feeling his back pop once at the base, and sighs in relief, flopping back face first into the pillow and sighing loudly.
He lies there for another half a minute before deciding that yes, it is in fact time to get up. Pushing the covers back, he swings his legs out of the bed and sits up, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table next to him and putting them on, letting the world in front of him come into view.
Standing, he heads to the loo and relieves himself before heading back to his bedroom to grab his phone and check his messages. As he enters his room, he sees something that he didn’t notice when he awoke, something against the wall opposite of where he’d faced upon sitting up.
There’s a bassinet shoved up against his wall. It’s got a wooden frame, dark blue quilted covering around it and lighter blue canopy head, and Phil stares at it blankly for a solid twenty seconds before stepping forward.
Why is there a bassinet in his room?
No, take that back. He looks down and can only blink. Why the everloving hell is there a baby in a bassinet in his room?
It’s asleep, wispy auburn-brown hair almost too thin and short to really count as hair covering its skull which, and Phil can only take a vaguely educated stab at this one, is slightly elongated and he knows that must mean it’s a very young baby, only a few days old at best, because don’t their skulls eventually round out after a few days, it’s just from being squeezed through the birth canal?
Why is there what is obviously a newborn infant in his room? He stares at it in befuddlement for another minute. It’s wearing a pair of white pyjamas that seem too big for it, almost swallowing it up in its fabric, and Phil stares at its sleeping face, eyes shut, little lips wrinkled up in a half-frown, one hand resting just under its chin and its fingers are so tiny, its fingernails are even tinier –
– and Phil is suddenly terrified because this is a newborn baby, why is it here, and all he can think is that he can’t hold it because he might drop it and injure it and so he turns and as silently as he can flees into Dan’s room, the only thought on his mind being that maybe Dan has any semblance of an idea of what’s going on.
Dan’s sleeping still, curled up on his side, arm flung over the edge of the bed, hanging down, and Phil imagines that it’s going to be massively sore when Dan wakes up.
Phil stands for a couple of seconds, chewing his lip, trying to figure out how he’s going to explain this, before just deciding that really, there is no explanation he can even try for.
“Dan.” Phil says simply. When Dan doesn’t stir, he says it again, louder, tapping at Dan’s shoulder a little harder than he intends, except he’s more than a little shaken so Phil thinks he can be forgiven.
“Hmmm,” Dan says muzzily, yawning and rolling onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow.
“Dan!” Phil practically shouts this now and Dan sits up in a jerky movement, sheets twisting around him as he looks around briefly before focusing on Phil.
“What?” Dan asks, sounding a little confused and worried, because Phil’s tone is obviously not calm and if he’s waking up Dan, something must be wrong.
Phil stands there, staring, before stating, “There’s a baby in my room and I have no idea how it got there.”
Dan gives him a look, furrowing his brows. “Okay, as far as strange ways to wake me up go, this is … probably your dumbest. Like, this is probably dumber than the time you woke me up because the jam on your toast looked like a cat face.”
Phil cringes for a moment because Dan is probably right about that before remembering the topic at hand. “Dan, I’m not joking. There’s a baby in my bedroom. There’s a bloody bassinet and inside is an infant and I have no idea how it got there.”
Dan blinks a few more times before pushing the covers down and swinging out of bed, clad only in his sweatpants. He grabs a discarded t-shirt off the floor and tugs it on. “Phil Lester. When I go in your bedroom and find nothing in there and you’re having me on for some strange reason, I am going to beat the pulp out of you.” He groans, still sounding half-asleep.
“Lead the way,” is all Phil can say.
When Dan gets to Phil’s room, he stops and Phil, walking behind him, bumps into him for the abruptness of the action, forcing Dan forward another half-step.
“I’m going to assume I’m right in imagining that you wouldn’t buy a bassinet for a prank wake-up,” Dan says, a little shakily, even as he moves forward and peers and finishes up with a, “What the fuck-”, clasping his hand over his mouth to muffle the curse as he stares at the infant.
Dan turns to Phil and the two of them have a silent, panicky sort of conversation with their eyes, Dan repeatedly gesturing at the crib, confused, and Phil holding his hands up weakly in resigned helplessness.
Finally, Dan heads back towards the hall, snagging Phil’s sleeve as he goes and hauling him into their living room where they both stand, glancing nervously in the direction of Phil’s bedroom.
“How did a baby get into your room?” Dan hisses. Phil gapes.
“I have no idea, Dan! I just woke up and there it was. What do I do?” Phil paces a few steps towards the bedroom and then back, finally opting to sit on the couch.
“Call the hospital and ask if there’s a missing child? Did you get drunk without me knowing and go out and take a baby? This is kind of unprecedented in my life, Phil. I’ve never woken up to a baby that didn’t belong to me, so I can’t exactly give you advice.” Dan’s sliding into a sarcastic tone, a bit sharp, and Phil can sense Dan’s stress and backs off because Dan’s just as lost as he is.
Dan takes a seat next to Phil, staring at a spot on the carpet that apparently might hold an answer for Dan. Phil gets up and heads back into the bedroom because he doesn’t really know what else to do, with Dan following a moment later.
When he gets there, he sees something he hadn’t noticed in his panic on his dresser. There’s a birth certificate and he scans it for information. Apparently this baby was not named, as it reads “Baby” Lester, with his name as the father and a Hannah Willis as the mother. The baby, who is apparently male, was born April 20th, 2015, at approximately 8:05 in the morning. Today is the 22nd.
First things first – Phil’s absolutely and completely sure he doesn’t know a Hannah Willis. Moving on to the next bit of news, he’s even more sure that he hasn’t had sex that could lead to a baby anytime in the last nine months.
Not that he hasn’t had sex, mind you, but he knows who it’s been with – if he’s recounting anytime in the last year, it’s been five occasions with a friend who was on the pill and they used a condom each time and she is well and definitely not pregnant after any occurrence.
Phil stares at the baby, who is still sleeping quite soundly, and turns to thrust the paper at Dan. “What is this?” He whispers, because he knows what it is but what he doesn’t understand is how. How does this exist in his bedroom when there is no way it could have happened?
Dan stares at the form and then takes it, returning to the living room. “Call the hospital and explain that there’s been some mix-up, that somehow your name was put on a birth certificate and you have a baby and it isn’t yours.”
“That is the worst plan I have ever heard, Dan!” Phil exclaims, hushing himself so he doesn’t wake up the baby because waking up that baby would be the worst thing that could happen. It would make things a little bit more real and right now, Phil’s having a hard time grasping the realness of the situation already.
Still, Phil has no other idea what to do and so he rings up the number on the paper and requests to talk to the maternity ward.
“Maternity ward, this is June speaking, how can I assist you?” A pleasant-sounding woman answers and Phil coughs.
“Um, hi. I… don’t quite know how to explain this but I woke up with a baby in my bedroom and a birth certificate listing me as the father except there’s no way it’s mine, as I haven’t, well, had relationships that could result in that and I wasn’t at the hospital to even take home a baby and I don’t know anybody by the name of who’s listed as the mother.”
There’s a long silence at the other end of the phone. “Is this a joke? Because we’re very busy and I don’t appreciate someone calling and wasting time-”
Phil cuts in desperately. “This isn’t a joke, I promise. I have no idea whose baby is in my flat or why it’s in my name, but it isn’t mine. My name’s Phil Lester, maybe you, I don’t know, had a Paul or something, someone with a similar name, and I don’t know how the baby got here, but it isn’t mine.”
He can hear tapping on a keyboard. “The only Lester that had a child here in the last few days would be a Phil Lester. So I don’t know what you’re getting at but whatever it is, it’s not funny.”
“Wait, can you see if there’s any information about the mother? Hannah Willis?”
“You don’t know anything about the mother?” There’s a tone of disgust in her voice now and Phil knows she’s thinking he’s some slag and he can only clutch his phone tighter.
“Please.” Phil speaks the word helplessly and there’s silence for a second, then tapping again.
“Sir, what is your date of birth and address? I can’t give you any information unless you can show me that you are who you’re claiming to be.”
“January 30th, 1987.” Phil says, rattling off the information almost mechanically, adding his flat address as well.
“Sir, I don’t know what kind of relationship you and the mother had but the records here show that the mother signed complete custody over to you. Even if you could prove to us that you had rights to her information, there’s a note stating her personal information not be given out to anybody.” Now June is sounding cross and Phil feels a cold pit form in his stomach.
“But –” and before he can speak another word, she cuts in.
“There’s nothing more I can do for you. I don’t know what’s happened – maybe you had a few too many drinks the last day or two and don’t remember the birth, maybe you’re just trying to have some fun, maybe you regret having a baby and want to give it up, but that’s not my problem and I find what you’re doing to be quite inappropriate.”
There’s a click as she hangs up.
Dan has been right beside him the whole time, close enough to have heard the conversation without it being on speaker, and he meets Phil’s gaze. “What?”
Phil can feel the tension thrumming through his body and at the same time, he feels completely exhausted, and his legs feel a bit like jelly underneath him.
So he does the next thing he thinks of, which is ring his parents.
“Mum?” He asks quietly. “I’m having a bit of a situation.”
“What’s wrong? Is the baby ill?” His mother’s voice, which was briefly soothing, throws him again, sudden fear washing over him and Dan’s mouthing at him, “What? What the hell?”
“Baby? You know about the baby?” Phil utters, confused. “How did it get here?”
His mother laughs slightly. “Well, we drove you back to your flat, remember? Did all the excitement wipe the events from your mind?”
“No, mum, you don’t understand. It’s not mine. I don’t know how it got here or why it’s here.” Phil tries to explain. “I don’t know anything about this baby. Or its mother.”
“You told us that about Hannah weeks ago. We weren’t exactly thrilled that you’d gotten a girl pregnant, one you barely knew, or that you were going to take sole custody of the baby, but we know you don’t know the mother. But it is your baby and I don’t know what you mean by you don’t know anything about the baby? We did encourage you to go to classes or read some books, didn’t we?” His mother’s voice is something between lecturing and befuddlement.
“No, you don’t understand. I genuinely have no memory of any of that. The past nine months have had no Hannah, no baby, no nothing. I went to bed yesterday without a baby, without a person named Hannah, and I woke up with a baby.” Phil’s starting to feel dizzy and more than slightly crazy.
“Look, Phil, if you need help, you can call but I don’t know what you’re getting at here. You were the one who said you wanted to have sole custody of the baby, that Hannah told you she wasn’t ready for a child and you decided you were. Are you drunk?” She adds the last bit quickly, as if it’s just come to her.
“No, I’m not drunk! Though right now I’d like to be because I’m very confused,” and that is most definitely the wrong thing to say to his mother because she inhales suddenly.
“You have a newborn, Phillip. You can’t go around drinking. You need to attend to your baby.”
Tears suddenly form, hot and sudden, pricking at Phil’s eyes. “I just don’t understand what’s going on,” he says, trying to hold himself together, and he feels Dan’s hand on the small of his back.
His mother speaks, gentler. “Look, I’ll be over in a bit, alright? I’ll help you with whatever it is you’re confused about.”
“Alright,” Phil says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. As his mother disconnects, he mindlessly moves to set his mobile down on a table and stares at Dan, fear filling him.
“I don’t understand,” he mumbles and Dan is shaking his head. “You and I both agree this isn’t my baby, it wasn’t here last night.”
Dan’s got his own phone and is texting someone and when it buzzes a moment later, he reads the text and his face goes oddly flat. “I just asked Louise if she knew anything about you having a baby and she said she wanted to know if you’d picked a name yet and to send a picture, she wants to see it.”
Phil doesn’t speak, reading the message over and over. “So what – I have a baby and everybody but you and I knew about this? How can you and I be the only people who don’t know what’s going on?”
Dan pushes his fingers through his hair and rubs at his face tiredly. “If I had literally any idea what the hell was going on, I’d tell you, Phil. Your mum will be here soon enough, maybe she can explain it?”
There’s a sudden noise, a whimpering that turns into a peaky wail, and fear washes across Phil anew, as he and Dan both head for his bedroom where the baby is lying in the crib, face scrunched up as it cries.
“What does it want?” Phil asks, trying to reach for it and then pulling his arms back.
“I don’t know? Is it hungry? Is it damp? Did it, I don’t know, scratch itself with its fingernails? Isn’t that a thing that babies do?” Dan queries, as if Phil has the answers.
Phil glances at those tiny hands again but the nails are trimmed to the quick and he can see no scratches as he examines the baby.
He awkwardly reaches down because a thought flashes through his brain, this baby is scared and nobody is taking care of it and it must feel utterly alone, and so he picks it up and cups it under its bottom, feeling that it’s not damp, at least not from what he can tell, pressing it to his chest, wrapping his other hand across the top of its shoulders until its face is against his chest.
It continues to cry and Phil gently tries to rub its back and rock it up and down in his arms and he speaks to it, not sure of what to say, so he just says, “It’s okay, it’s okay, little baby, it’s okay, baby boy, you’re alright,” over and over, Dan equally flustered and texting at his phone again.
“Louise says when’s the last time you fed him,” and Dan’s already holding up a hand as Phil snaps at him that he has no bloody idea, he didn’t have a baby an hour ago.
“There’s no formula or anything.” Dan says, looking around. “No diapers either. There’s no toys, no anything that would indicate a baby was going to be coming home to here.”
Dan heads out of the room and Phil stands rooted where he’s at, holding this sobbing infant and wishing he knew what it wanted because he can only imagine how upset it is, because someone has to take care of the baby and it has needs that aren’t being fulfilled.
“It’s okay,” he whispers again, trying to put every bit of soothing he can into his voice, as if that will magically make it better. “It’s okay, baby. My mum will be here and she’ll help, I promise. You’ll get what you need. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”
He’s trying to console himself as much as he is the baby, but it does nothing and so the next thirty minutes pass with the baby weeping inconsolably until it seems to run out of steam and sputters out a few jerky, wet choking noises and silences itself. He sits on his bed and continues to rock it through the entire thing, as his ears start to hurt from its noise, and he doesn’t know what to do for it, but he can’t leave it alone.
Phil’s afraid to put it down though, because it might be quiet, but he doesn’t know what it needed, and all he can think now is what if the baby is scared, so if he’s there, at least it’s not alone.
He heads to the living room and sits on the couch, curling an arm around the baby tighter, and Dan watches him, having been sitting on the other end of the couch, facing him. They don’t talk. Phil holds the now quiet baby and is silent, staring at the floor.