prompt: Dan and Phil are both sons of rich families and are sent to ballroom dancing lessons. Because there is a shortage of girls, Dan and Phil end up as partners. Phil really doesn’t want to be there and Dan doesn’t either, but is so frustrated by the fact Phil doesn’t want to dance with him he is determined to get him to.
a/n: ok well the regular updating thing’s coming along alright and by alright i mean i’m fucking embarrassed i meant to spend today revising for geography tomorrow and what do i do instead?? write a chapter nearing fucking 6k wordS i’m so sorry i hope this is alright im kinda wanting to just get on with the storyline now sigh
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Twenty-Two
Dan wakes up surprisingly early the following morning after many failed attempts at getting back to sleep; for someone who usually tends to lay in until gone one o’clock in the afternoon, being up at half past ten is a strange novelty. He sighs, kicks his duvet off, and stares at the ceiling.
He wonders if Phil will actually show up today. He’s no stranger to ‘forgotten’ arrangements and empty porches so he certainly isn’t holding his breath, although it doesn’t stop him anxiously sweeping old socks, empty glasses and dirty plates under his bed in an attempt to make his room at least seem half-clean. Audrey will probably kill him when she finds out there’s more crockery in his bedroom than there is in the actual kitchen, but he doesn’t care. He knows she’s too preoccupied with other housework and he doesn’t want to labour her with the heavy task of his room today.
Besides, he’s not even sure Phil’s sleeping over so he’s not really sure how the effort of tidying his room up a little bit is going to pay off. It had taken constant reminding that this isn’t Ryan visiting, sleeping over without any proper night things isn’t exactly the norm in any other situation (although it’d got to the point where Ryan had a toothbrush of his own round Dan’s and most of his pyjamas fit Ryan better than they fit himself, so he didn’t exactly have to pack anything anyway).
He sighs, flopping back on his bed after cramming every crumpled item of clothing from his floor into the wardrobe until it looked as if it would only need one more sock to physically explode; covering every inch of his room in shards of wood, coat hangers and many, many hoodies.
He stares at the wardrobe doors, groaning with the pressure of staying shut. Maybe he’d be better off not taking Phil into his room at all.
-
“Am I seeing things,-” Audrey pretends to look at the clock when she sees a sleepy, brown-haired figure stumble into the kitchen “-or are you actually awake before 12pm?” she pretends to look shocked, shaking her head in mock-disbelief.
Dan gives her a tired grin. “I couldn’t get back to sleep.”
“Jet lag getting to you?” She says jokingly.
“Yeah,” Dan rolls his eyes. “-the hour difference is killing me.”
Audrey chuckles. “Francis is having a day off, so I’m afraid you’ll have to cater for yourself as far as breakfast goes.”
Dan glances at the croissants sitting on a metal multi-tier tray on the counter. “Are they there for anything important?”
“What?” Audrey looks over her shoulder from the washing-up. “Oh, no, you have them.”
He takes a couple, uses up the rest of the coffee in the filter, and excuses himself, heading over to the lounge. He hadn’t eaten properly since eating half of Adam’s chocolates last night, and had fallen asleep before dinner had even been served, so he scoffs the pastry without any hesitation.
He reaches for the remote, and it only takes a couple of seconds for him to suddenly remember that daytime TV really is shit. Being only left with a choice of Jeremy Kyle, Antiques Roadshow and Homes Under The Hammer reminds him as to why he doesn’t tend to get up until after lunchtime; he screws up his face, flicking through the Sky TV guide and realises he probably should’ve stayed in bed after all.
He settles for Jeremy Kyle; he’s had more than his fair share of absent-mindedly watching homeowners fight over properties and Victorian brass platters being auctioned for stupid amounts of money. Besides, he can’t bear to leave “Admit you’re a prostitute and leave our Dad alone!” unresolved without finding out the lie detector results.
After a lot of screaming, arguing, and getting the security guards out, Brad had apparently been telling the truth, to Dan’s surprise. He channel hops for a while, sighing and leaning into the sofa cushions, before deciding to go and get more of those croissants.
-
The rest of the day follows in pretty much the same unproductive, meaningless fashion. He can only manage half an hour of This Morning before Katie Hopkins takes a toll on him. An hour passes and he gets his laptop and writes 250 words of some essay that was due in a week ago and giggles at a video on his tumblr dashboard of a hamster completing an obstacle course.
He sits out 25 songs of the Kerrang Top 40 chart and writes a bit more of the essay until Adam wakes up, giving him someone to complain about how boring and pointless Jane Eyre is to.
Another hour passes, and he eats yet another croissant, apologises sheepishly to Adam for not leaving him any, returns to his essay, and explains how “unhealthy Jane and Rochester’s relationship actually is I mean like no okay listen though he’s borderline abusive what with threatening her with violence and she’s all like nooooOOoo I still love you GOD I fucking hate this story Jesus Christ” to an indifferent Adam far more interested in his cornflakes than English Literature (Dan has the creative gene, Adam had the logical one; his interests lie with Maths and Science as opposed to Dan’s passions with English and History).
Dan gets restless and he reckons another twenty words of this stupid essay will probably finish him off, so he decides to go for a walk. He wriggles into the first pair of black skinny jeans he can pull out of the wardrobe without causing a fabric avalanche and reaches for the same hoodie he slept in, spritzing it with a generous amount of Lynx.
He doesn’t know where he’s going, he doesn’t have anywhere specific planned, but at least it’ll give him something to do. He grabs his bag, his phone, an odd £20 note lying on the table in case his Oyster card runs out, and turns to Adam.
“I won’t be long.” He says over his shoulder, making for the door.
“Wait, wait-…” Adam looks up from his laptop, holding his hand up.
“What?” Dan rolls his eyes.
“Can you bring me back some chocolate?” He asks, his brown eyes pleading.
“Don’t we have any here?” Dan frowns.
“I ate the last of it.” Adam admits. Dan fixes him with a deadpan expression, and Adam pouts.
“Fine.” Dan sighs.
“Make sure it’s Cadbury’s,” Adam calls after Dan. “-with those weird biscuit-y bits in it.”
Dan rolls his eyes to himself, slipping out of the house and shutting the door behind him.
At least he’ll have an excuse to wander the streets until something interesting happens, now.
-
He stays within the general area of the town; keeping a close eye on the time because the worry that his definition of ‘late afternoon’ might not be the same as Phil’s constantly plays on his mind, as well as the fact that he really should’ve asked for Phil’s number before they parted ways last night; a quick call or text right now would make things about nine-hundred times easier. He really can’t imagine how past teenage generation’s coped, despite having endless earfuls from his mother of “when I was your age-…”
He’ll just have to hope if he does turn up, it won’t be until he’s back.
He ends up buying Adam three chocolate bars (each with Oreo, Daim and Shortbread bits in them; he needs to be more specific with the ‘weird biscuit-y bits’ definition) and makes for the park after heading out of Tesco express.
The park reminds him how different London really is from Vienna. While there are still the tree-framed paths and vast stretches of green, in contrast to the peaceful silence laying over the atmosphere with perhaps one or two passers-by, he’s now reminded of the constant hum of traffic, an entire group of tourists for every one dog-walker he’d see in Vienna, deckchairs littering the grass and children climbing all over the Canadian national war memorial.
Maybe coming to Green Park of all places was a mistake on such a sunny day. He should’ve tried Jubilee Gardens beforehand.
It doesn’t stop him from flopping down on the nearest bench, putting up with the delighted screams from the children playing in the water although he uses a pretty effective audio barrier of his music in order to refrain from balling his fists and approaching the parents of the kids with aggressive exclamations of how they should ‘fucking get a grip of your kids you disrespectful bastards I mean look the sign clearly says ‘Do Not Climb’ or are you so illiterate you can’t fucking read either’.
He settles for immersing himself in Future Hearts, using Kids in the Dark as a suitable distraction from being vocal about his passionate dislike for children.
About six songs later, he feels a pull on his right earphone as someone – or something, yanks it out.
“Hello, stranger.” A familiar voice pipes up, breaking his peace. He looks up. Max.
“Max?” Dan widens his eyes.
The brown-haired boy sits down beside him, pushing his chocolate-coloured waves framing his forehead out of his eyes. “So, is it your phone you’ve forgotten about, or us?” He glances down to Dan’s lap, the question answering itself.
Dan clutches his phone guiltily. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I certainly wasn’t banking on bumping into you, either,” he says. “I had it in my mind that you’d disappeared off the face of the earth altogether judging by how active you’ve been in the group chat.”
Shit. “Oh.” Dan says weakly.
“Oh indeed.” Max’s grin fades. “What’s been going on?”
“I’ve been in Vienna for two weeks,” Dan mutters. “-there was like no wifi. There wasn’t really much of anything there, I think they’re still living in the 18th-“
“-Before that, Dan.” Max shakes his head. “Something’s up with Ryan, too. He’s not been talking much. You two haven’t had a row, have you?”
Dan doesn’t bother denying it anymore. “Kinda,” he admits, diverting his eyes to his lap. Max stays unusually silent, but Dan doesn’t really want to elaborate. He gulps, glancing at him. “Just a little one, though.”
Max frowns. “The way Ryan’s been acting, it doesn’t seem that ‘little’ to me.”
Dan looks up properly. “What do you mean?”
“Oh come on Dan,“
“Well, I have been in another country entirely for the best part of two weeks with no internet access, so sorry if my ‘Ryan updates’ aren’t completely up to scratch,” he snaps, immediately regretting it.
Max is silenced for a few moments, before raising his eyebrows, “okay.”
Dan sighs, shutting his eyes. “Sorry, I-…”
Max waves his apology away. “I forgot you hadn’t been around,” he says. “Sorry. It’s not your fault.”
It certainly fucking isn’t, Dan bites back from saying, remembering no-one else actually knew the full story except the two of them. And Phil.
“So what’s been going on, then?” Dan asks. “Have I missed that much?”
“Kinda,” Max widens his eyes. “Well, I don’t know. Ryan’s just not been himself for ages; like, I don’t know, if he ever did say anything on the group chat it would always be something blunt or an excuse to get out of something,” he says, “we didn’t really think a lot of it, but whenever one of us talked about you, even as a passing comment, he’d immediately try and change the subject so we began to wonder whether, you know-…” he shrugs, “something might have happened? I mean, it’s probably just me and maybe you two are completely fine, but-” he cuts himself off, awkwardly shrugging again. “I guessed maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
Dan swallows, his hands clamming up. Never is a perfect time to talk about Ryan, but right now he decides he’s really not in the mood for it. “Yeah, well,” he sighs, shutting his eyes. It’s been barely a minute of Ryan talk and already the sickeningly familiar thudding in his heart spreads over his body until he can hear his pulse in his ears. “We have had a bit of an argument, I guess,” he admits a moment of silence later. “But I don’t know if that’s related to his behaviour or anything. He’s pretty unpredictable as he is,” his voice catches on the last syllable. Fucking unpredictable indeed, he clenches his jaw. No-one has any idea.
Max notices Dan’s discomfort. “Well,” he shrugs. “We can’t get through to him. Maybe you could try.”
Dan forces out a monosyllabic, humourless laugh, turning away from Max in order to hide his expression. “’Cause I’m the first person he’d want to talk to right now,” he scoffs.
Max shrugs. “You’re closer to him than any of us are.”
“Were,” Dan corrects him without thinking.
Max frowns, concern flashing across his face. “Is it really that serious?”
Dan gulps, and when he brings a hand up to adjust his fringe, it’s shaking. He assesses the harm of actually telling Max; he’s more trustworthy than any of the others, for a start. He wouldn’t tell anyone if Dan told him not to. He probably wouldn’t tell anyway.
But part of him doesn’t want to tell Max; as secretive as their relationship/friendship/whatever-the-fuck-it-is was, without anyone knowing except Dan and Ryan almost made it seem as if they were so trapped inside their own little bubble, it was too dream-like it almost didn’t feel real. Maybe it wasn’t. Dan doesn’t want it to seem as real as it is by telling him.
Although, real or not, it’s over now. It’s dead. Keeping it from Max wouldn’t change anything; in fact, it would probably just make him madder that Dan had kept it from him if he ever found out later on.
He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes as if to lessen the impact. He doesn’t want to see Max’s reaction, anyway.
He opens his mouth, and only speechlessness follows as he realises he doesn’t quite know how to actually phrase it. He cheated on me, not quite; they weren’t really ever properly together. He was kissing someone else, truer than the last statement, but it still doesn’t really make a lot of sense.
Dan gulps, feeling his heart in his throat. I thought I loved him.
Eventually he settles for a meek “he lied to me”, although his voice is so choked up he’s surprised Max understood it.
Max pauses. “Oh,” he responds a couple of seconds later, his voice carefully soft. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Yes. Dan’s mind replies almost immediately. Yes oh my fucking god yes I need to talk everything over repeatedly and literally fucking scream out about how much I hate that green-eyed cunt until my voice is dry Max please you have no idea I need to get it out of my system.
He settles for silence, but his expression says it all.
Max gives him a weak nod. “Well, whatever it is, I hope-“
“I can’t fucking believe he could kiss someone else like that, though.” Dan mutters to himself, frighteningly aloud. The desperation had taken its toll on him.
Fuck. Dan widens his eyes, freezing and internally cursing as his face flushes alarmingly scarlet and Max looks up from his phone properly. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Max’s grey eyes stare straight into Dan with an expression constructed only of pure shock. And disbelief.
“What?” His voice is thin, and hoarse.
Dan gulps, staring down at his lap and desperately trying to shield himself with his fringe. “I’ve said too much,” he manages to mumble only half-coherently.
“You haven’t said enough,” Max shakes his head, still dazed, “you can’t just leave me with that. What the hell happened? Were you two-… y’know-… a thing?”
A thing. The words sting, although he can’t blame Max for jumping to that conclusion.
“No, no-…” Dan wavers, “well, not quite. We-… Oh god, I don’t know,” he shuts his eyes. “it was such a mess. I don’t know what we were. I don’t think he did either, to be honest.” Max listens, still speechless. “We-… it had been going on for a while- y’know, us-…” Max nods, “-…then I- er-… after dance a couple of weeks ago, well-… I saw him with-“ he can’t finish. He bites his lip and pinches his arm through the hoodie fabric to stop the tears from coming any further.
It’s useless, and he curses himself when he feels a hot droplet roll down his cheek. It seems that all he’s been doing these days is fucking crying. It’s all he can do.
Moments later Dan feels his arm around him, warm with body heat. “Oh, Dan-…” Max sighs.
Dan resists, tensing up for a few seconds, until giving in, relaxing into Max and resting his head on his shoulder. He manages to control himself from letting any more tears escape.
“Are you mad at me? I know I should’ve told you sooner, really, but everything was just so full-on and-“
“Of course I’m not mad,” Max reassures, tightening his grip around his shoulders. “I’m surprised you even told me at all, to be honest.”
“So am I,” Dan gulps, because he really didn’t mean to let it slip like that. He winds his own arms around Max’s waist, nuzzling into him – they probably look like a couple themselves to anyone passing by, but he’s way past caring.
“Between you and me,” Max begins, his voice slightly muffled, “I did have my suspicions myself.”
“Yeah?” Dan asks, raising an eyebrow although it doesn’t really come as much of a surprise to him.
“Well, it wasn’t hard to be honest,” he says with a half-smirk. “I might have- well, maybe woken up in the middle of the night one time and-… well,” he clears his throat, his fair skin flushing pink, “you two weren’t exactly sleeping, let’s just say.”
“Oh, fuck-…” Dan giggles humourlessly, shutting his eyes and hiding his face with his hair. “How long ago was that?”
Max shrugs. “Ages,” he says. “it didn’t really bother me, in actual fact I’d forgotten about it until now. Plus you two were pretty drunk so,” he shrugs. “If anything, I just thought you were fooling around.”
Fooling around. That figures, Dan thinks, although he’d really rather not know what Max had listened in on. He could never look him into the eye, those grey eyes, in the same way ever again.
“Well-…” Dan begins with a sigh, gently untangling himself from Max. “That’s what’s happened, anyway.”
“Still a bit of a shitty thing to do, if you ask me,” Max wrinkles his nose. “Even if you aren’t together.”
“Yeah, well,” Dan shrugs. “I can get over it, right? ‘S’not the end of the world.”
“I guess,” Max nods, lazily smiling at him. “Although I don’t see why he should be taking it out on us, if I’m honest,” he mumbles, almost insulted.
“Neither do I,” Dan sighs. “I could try talking to him I guess, but-…”
but I won’t. His mind finishes off. After everything that he’s put me through the next time we interact will be a million years too soon because the very thought of him makes me want to retch oh god Max please don’t make me do it.
Max smiles sympathetically. “Well, only if you’re sure,” he says as if he just read Dan’s mind. “You don’t have to.”
Dan feels the anxiety unknot in his chest. He relaxes, exhaling slowly. “Thanks.”
Max stands up. “I’d better go,” he sighs. “I need to get to my sister’s before five.”
“M’kay.” He whips out his phone, quickly checking his texts.
adam: come home some weird emo with black hair came round asking for you
adam: also u better have remembered my chocolate.
Yes. He can’t stop a grin flooding through his face.
“What’s that?” Max raises an eyebrow. “Got a text from Ryan declaring his undying love for you?”
“Leave it out,” Dan scowls, tapping back a quick that’sphil omg you better let him in I’ll be home in 10.
Max rolls his eyes, pulling Dan in for a hug. “We’ll catch up soon, yeah?”
Dan hugs him back, a smile tickling his lips. “Yeah.”
When Max pulls away, he eyes Dan up and down, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I believe we also have important matters to discuss. You have a lot to tell me about what you got up to in Vienna.”
“Like what?” Dan frowns self-consciously. How would Max know what went on there?
“Like how you should be a little more discreet,” Max smirks, leaning in to whisper although no-one else is listening. “Your neck is showing.”
Oh fuck. Dan feels the heat of his blush travel down the back of his head, reaching his neck as he brings a hand up, sheepishly trying to cover it up. He’d completely forgotten about the state Phil had left his neck in.
“Right.” Dan doesn’t look Max in the eye. He’s had more than enough embarrassing exposure of his sexual experiences for one day.
“Tell me all about it, yeah?” Max says, starting to walk away although Dan doesn’t know how much he’d be willing to tell. He’s sure Max could piece together the evidence pretty well, seeing as he’d had enough experience doing so already.
“Whatever,” Dan rolls his eyes, although he grins back. “Nice to see you.”
“You too.” Max calls over his shoulder. Dan thinks he catches a ‘and get the fuck on the group chat as soon as possible it’s no fun without you’, although he’s unsure as it’s disguised in the flood of voices from a group of tourists captivated by the first sight of Buckingham Palace on the other side of the black and gold railings framing the park.
The excitement of tourists always amuses him, being a Londoner. It amuses him how someone could be so enchanted with a building – a pretty nice building, of course, but just a building – that he walks past nearly every single day to get to school. Sure, the Royal Family live there, that’s probably cool, but it’s such an everyday thing to him the idea of completely filling up his camera roll of pictures of it in slightly different filters and angles is just so-… pointless.
He rolls his eyes at another tourist taking about ten pictures of the same telephone box, a selfie with said telephone box, a picture of their friend in the telephone box then a selfie of them and their friend in the telephone box, and he feels the need to hold up his iPhone and start preaching about how fucking useless telephone boxes actually are I mean come on they’re hardly a landmark they’re just inconvenient.
Sure, he took a lot of photos when he was in Vienna, but they were of landmarks of actual significance; he wasn’t walking around taking pictures of the pavement, he scowls at a tourist angling their Samsung Galaxy to a piece of the road that’s apparently more photogenic than any of the rest. He’s sure Instagram will love that artsy snap.
-
He can’t unlock the front door fast enough.
He sprints up the stairs, nearly knocking Audrey and her mop over.
“Sorry!” He cringes, whirling round apologetically.
She laughs. “In a rush, are we?”
Dan grins sheepishly. “I’m expecting someone.”
Audrey rolls her eyes, giving Dan a side-grin before returning to her housework while Dan makes for another flight of stairs. He skids into the lounge, launching himself at the familiar black-haired figure gingerly sitting on the edge of the creased sofa.
“Phil!” He tackles him into the cushions, startling him frozen for a couple of seconds until he recollects enough composure to hug Dan back.
“You two know eachother?” Adam raises an eyebrow sarcastically as they shuffle back up onto the sofa. Dan throws him a glare, tossing him the three bars of chocolate before he has a chance to ask about it.
Adam widens his eyes. “Three? Are you trying to fatten me up or something?”
Dan smirks. “Or maybe you should be a little more specific as far as ‘biscuit-y bits’ go.”
“I only wanted the Oreo one,” Adam smirks, although he certainly doesn’t give up the other two.
“There are more biscuits in the world other than Oreo,” Dan rolls his eyes.
“I don’t know why, to be honest,” he breaks off a row. “Oreo’s all the world needs, to be honest.”
“Don’t be biscuit-ist,” Dan frowns. “What have Bourbons ever done to you?”
Adam flips him off with a glare, shoving the whole row in his mouth.
“Ew,” Dan screws up his face, turning to Phil. “I imagine he’s been great entertainment for you while I’ve been gone?”
“Well-…” Phil smirks shyly, his eyes flickering to 60 Minute Makeover which Dan imagines was probably the main focus during his absence as opposed to actual conversation between the two. Adam’s unusually shy around Dan’s new friends, and Dan’s beginning to suspect perhaps around new people, Phil isn’t as outgoing as he’d come across.
“Amazing,” Dan rolls his eyes, smirking at the TV before turning back to Phil. “Are you hungry?”
Phil shrugs, which Dan takes as a polite ‘yes’. They excuse themselves from the lounge with orders to bring back Adam a coffee with them.
“How long have you been there for?” Dan asks. “I only got Adam’s text about you about ten minutes ago.”
Phil shrugs. “Not that long before he texted you,” he says. “Your brother’s funny, though.”
“He’s better company once he gets to know you, I promise,” Dan smirks.
“I thought as much when you came in,” Phil says.
“Well, considering I’m his brother,” Dan begins. “We’re pretty familiar with eachother, you could say.”
Phil chuckles wordlessly, gingerly taking in his new surroundings like a puppy in a new home. This is the first time he’s come round, but Dan certainly hopes it won’t be the last.
Dan leads him into their kitchen, patting the worktop of the breakfast bar. Phil hitches himself on top of it obediently, watching Dan clatter around the kitchen with mugs, kettles and the neatly presented cakes left over from his mother’s afternoon tea. He hopes they’re out here in the kitchen because they’re finished with them as opposed to having not even started them yet.
Regardless, he hands Phil the silver-plated tray when the kettle boils. “How d’you like your coffee?” He asks over his shoulder.
“No sugar,” Phil shudders. “Sugar in coffee is wrong.”
“Lattes are the only exception,” Dan huffs out a chuckle. He hates sugar in coffee too.
“Caramel Macchiato,” Phil nods, and Dan can’t hold back his grin. That’s his favourite.
“In that case-…” Dan stops him before his first sip, rummaging in the back of the cupboards. He ends up working his way through half the kitchen; fuck, where the hell does Francis put things? before he’d tackled the Narnia of foreign marmalade, weird stock cubes and vegetable oil to the back of one of the cupboards, and found it. “Here,” he brings the caramel coffee syrup over to Phil, handing it to him.
“Is this for real?” Phil widens his eyes in disbelief.
“No, it’s fake actually,” Dan says sarcastically, earning a glare from Phil. He watches as he drizzles a tiny amount into his coffee, stirs it, and takes a tiny sip.
“Oh my god,” Phil grins from behind the brim of the cup. “Is this made from fairy ejaculation or something?”
“I’m glad you put it in such elegant terms,” Dan chuckles, dropping some in his own before returning it; having to jump to put it back on the shelf due to his height. If Phil didn’t find watching him so adorable, he’d probably help.
When they get back to the lounge, Adam’s gone. Probably to go do that overdue Chemistry paper, Dan reckons, but his heart leaps at the thought of finally having some time alone with Phil. He shrugs, leaving the mug on the coaster on Adam’s coffee table, and sits with Phil, swinging his legs up onto the sofa.
They both stare in the general direction of the TV, although neither of them are really watching it. It only takes a couple of minutes until Dan gives out a little sigh, nudging up and resting his head on Phil’s shoulder.
Phil’s oncoming grin is almost as audible as his heartbeat in his chest, close to Dan’s ear.
“I didn’t think you’d turn up today, you know.” Dan admits after a handful of seconds.
“What?” Phil pauses, and Dan swears he hears a skip in his heartbeat.
“I don’t know,” Dan shrugs against him, keeping his eyes glued to the painters hard at work to redecorate the entire house before Mr. & Miss Greendale come home from wedding dress shopping. “It just seemed more unlikely for you to actually turn up than not.”
“Dan,” Phil sighs, his chest rising and falling. “I know you’ve had your trust-… to put it bluntly, quite frankly shat on, but it doesn’t mean you deserve to have to assume everyone you meet from here will be the same. We’re not all carbon copies of Ryan.”
We’re not all carbon copies of Ryan, Dan’s thoughts echo the phrase and his throat tightens.
“You’d be the same, though,” he says. “If I told you I was going to turn up at your house, would you believe me?”
“Nope,” Phil says in a tone so strangely optimistic it makes Dan glance up. Phil’s eyes flicker to him. “Because I know with your navigation skills, there’s no way you’d find it.”
“Shut up.” Dan rolls his eyes, giving Phil a small, playful shove. “Seriously, though?”
“Seriously what?” Phil furrows his brow.
“You wouldn’t believe me, would you?” Dan raises an eyebrow.
Phil hesitates, before shaking his head quietly, his eyes lowering. Dan takes a sip of his coffee, prompting Phil to do the same. He thinks fast of a subject change; they had enough Ryan-and-Callum talk in Vienna; he doesn’t want to waste the time they have left together discussing them.
He’d rather be doing something else, he smiles softly to himself, glancing up at Phil. His eyes flicker to his lips for a fraction of a second and back up to Phil’s eyes.
Phil leans in as if he’d read his mind. He presses his lips to Dan’s in a soft kiss, nudging an arm around his waist. Dan closes his eyes, melting into the kiss and settling his arm comfortably on Phil’s side.
After a couple of minutes, Phil parts his lips, allowing Dan to slip his tongue into his mouth and arouse a moan from deep inside the black-haired boy’s chest. Dan climbs on top of Phil, wrapping his legs around him and grinding into him.
“Dan-…” Phil protests, his voice hoarse with arousal. He grabs Dan’s waist. “Dan, no, I’m-…” he exhales. “You’re turning me on.” He whines, dragging out the ‘o’.
Dan stops, eyeing Phil up and down briefly. “Is that a problem?” He asks.
“What if someone comes in?” Phil hisses, jerking his head towards the door.
“My house is huge, Phil,” he reminds him. “I doubt anyone will hear us.”
Phil stares at him. “I’m not having sex with you in your lounge at six in the evening,” his eyes flicker to the window. “It’s still light outside.”
“Who said I was talking about sex?” Dan presses a kiss to Phil’s lips, although he stops the grinding, because Phil’s right, he supposes. “Anyway, ever heard of afternoon delight?”
Phil rolls his eyes, kissing him back. Dan continues to straddle him, his hands combing through his soft, inky hair as he leaves soft, gentle pecks on Phil’s mouth, warm against his own.
They stay like that, and it allows Dan to appreciate how nice it is to simply lie here with Phil, exchanging little kisses and tasting his lips and feeling his hair and breathing in the addictive scent of his cologne lingering on his collar. He loves how Phil can turn him on so fucking much with only so much as the right glance at him, but he has to agree that it is nice to slow things down enough to realise that he just loves kissing Phil. He could kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him until his lips are sore.
“Oh, shit,” Phil suddenly freezes once he looks over to the coffee table on the opposite side of the room.
Dan pulls his lips away from Phil’s neck. “What?” He frowns, turning his head.
He gulps, and the boys exchange horrified glances.
It isn’t as awful as finding someone actually sitting on the sofa opposite them having watched the whole thing, but it’s almost as bad.
Everything’s still in place and it seems more or less untouched, but the coffee mug is gone.