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: FUCK MY LIFE IM SO SORRY I TRIED TO DO THE SMUT BUT IDK HOW WELL IT WENT HOLYL SHIT LISTEN WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS I HAD TO TAKE SO MANY BIBLE BREAKS I CATN DO SMUT HONESLTY IM SO SORRY also shits gonna go down in the next chapter just a heads up ALSO IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO FUCKIN LONG LIKE ??? SHIT MAN I HOPE IT’S OKAY
-smut, mentions of alcohol and being drunk-
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Twenty-Four
As far as meeting the rest of Dan’s friends is concerned, Phil’s not overly enthusiastic over the idea.
“Come on,” Dan rolls his eyes, having tried for the best part of half an hour to convince him they’re ’not all like Ryan’. “You don’t even know them. Ross is nice, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Phil mumbles, keeping his eyes glued to a hangnail on his thumb. “But I knew Ross beforehand.”
“Well, there was a time when you didn’t,” Dan says. “Had you not moved Geography classes, you’d be sitting here thinking he was another Ryan.”
“No I wouldn’t,” Phil glances at him. “Because he never used to glare at me like the others do. I’ve seen them all in the Common Roo-”
“Now you’re just being paranoid,” Dan rolls his eyes. “Max has the worst resting bitchface anyway – he could be smiling and he’d still look like he’s prepared to kill seventy-four people.”
Phil glares at Dan, looking as if he’s prepared to kill the seventy-fifth person. “And what about Jake, then?.”
“He doesn’t even know you,” Dan mumbles, whipping his phone out from his pocket. “All they know is from whatever Ryan said about you.”
“My point precisely,” Phil retorts. “They’ve been told what I’m like. There’s no way they’d agree to meeting me on the basis of Ryan’s opinion,” he spits his name, his tone venomous.
“Not if they don’t know you’re here,” Dan flashes him a wicked grin, tapping out a mass text (he’d avoided the group chat for any mention of his house; although he’s sure Ryan would never turn up, he refuses to take the risk nevertheless).
Phil’s eyes widen. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he threatens, glaring at Dan’s phone as if he could do some TechRax-style damage to it through sheer willpower of his mind.
Dan’s thumb quickly taps the screen. “Oops.”
Phil stares at him, outraged. “Well, thanks a lot,” he scoffs sarcastically, flopping onto the sofa and glaring at the TV. “I’m sure they’ll love you for that once they find out I’m here.”
“No, I’m sure they’ll love you when they find out you’re not a complete asshole,” he hesitates teasingly at his own remark. “Well, on second thoug-”
Phil hits him with a cushion. “Twat,” he mutters, although all attempts to stay angry with Dan fail miserably when he feels Dan’s lips peck shyly at his cheek.
Dan grins to himself, watching the oncoming blush on the pale boy’s face grow.
“You love me really,” Dan says, and Phil certainly doesn’t object.
-
When the doorbell rings, Phil tenses up.
Dan sighs, not having the heart to make another joke about him once he realises Phil isn’t pretending either anymore.
He reaches for Phil’s hand, giving it a quick reassuring squeeze. “I promise, Phil, they’re fine. It’s fine,” he whispers, his voice so low he isn’t certain Phil can even hear him. He settles for another tactic, leaning in to press his lips quickly to Phil’s in a chaste kiss. “Don’t be nervous,” he adds, his voice newly soft.
Phil doesn’t say anything, but pulls Dan in by his hoodie strings to return the kiss, this time lingering for seconds longer. When they pull apart, his eyes are shining, and it’s only then Dan notices.
Phil’s not good with new people. He’s evidently not as used to dealing with them as Dan is.
Dan disappears with one final glance to the boy curled up alone on the sofa, before heading to the hall, a small skip forming in his step as he remembers how excited he is due to the fact he hasn’t actually seen Jake since before Vienna. As he slides down the banister, the knocking from the door begins to get louder.
“Oh my god, patience,” Dan groans, ensuring his voice is loud enough to be heard from outside considering he can already hear the chatter of voices from the porch.
Less than a second after opening the door, the boys pile themselves into his house, almost pushing the door into the shorter boy standing beside it.
“Jesus Chris-“ Dan stumbles as he nearly trips over a pair of shoes. “I didn’t need my feet anyway, that’s fi-“
“Dan!” A figure launches himself at the brown-haired boy, and judging by the flash of blonde hair he managed to notice before nearly being bowled over, it’s Jake.
“Calm down, oh my god,” Dan giggles, although he wraps his arms back around him in a hug. “You’re as bad as Adam, you lot – it’s a good job I wasn’t away for any longer.”
“Well, when you’re at the school for posh twats and then you pack off to the other side of the world for two weeks, of course it’s not going to go unnoticed,” Jake says.
Dan rolls his eyes. “What happened to Saintsbridge being the school for posh twats, anyway?” He leads them upstairs.
“You can’t say Welfeather isn’t full of them too,” Max raises an eyebrow, and he’s right, Dan guesses.
“Yeah – including you,” Ross teases, and Dan returns that joke with a playful punch to his upper arm.
“How was Australia anyway?” Jake asks as they conquer another flight of stairs.
“Austria,” Dan corrects with a smirk.
“Same thing,” Jake rolls his eyes.
“Same thing, with only a difference of 10,000 miles,” Ross grins at three surprised faces turning to look at him. “See, Dan, I do learn something in Geography.”
“I’m pretty sure ‘how to talk to Siri’ isn’t on the AS level syllabus,” Dan mutters, and it’s him who receives the upper-arm punch this time.
“What would you know, anyway?” Ross says. “All you know about is Jane bloody Austen.”
“Eyre,” Dan corrects. “Mind you, I’d rather be studying Pride and Prejudice than that hunk of shit.”
“Pride and what?” Ross frowns.
“Exactly,” Dan retorts, dragging out the ‘e’.
When they reach the lounge door, Dan gulps.
“Is Phil in there?” Ross makes no effort to quieten his notoriously loud voice, and Dan flashes him a warning look.
“Phil?” Max frowns, and Jake’s expression drops. “Your dancing partner? What’s he doing here?” Dan cringes, widening his eyes in a panicked expression and holding his lips up to his ear in a ‘shush’-ing motion, jerking his head towards the door.
“Look,” Dan lowers his voice. “I wanted you to meet him. I know Ryan doesn’t exactly like him, but that doesn’t mean you lot have to do the same, right?” their expressions remain blank, but Dan continues. “He’s really, really lovely, I promise. It would mean a lot to me if you were to just give him a chance,” he rolls his eyes, changing his tactics when Max hesitates and Jake glances to the floor. “Oh come on, at least Ryan had actually met him before basing an opinion,” he gulps. “I know they’re not exactly on the best of terms, but, I mean- come on, you guys haven’t even done that yet. Please.” his brown eyes shine with plead, and finally, their expressions (apart from Ross who doesn’t care if Phil has three heads and only one eye if it meant finally having someone to discuss the likings of Geography with) soften, and Dan smiles, breathing a small sigh of relief.
“Okay,” Max nods. Jake gives him an unsure glance, but eventually agrees too.
“Thank you,” Dan gives both their hands a quick, grateful squeeze, before nudging the lounge door open.
He glances to the sofa, and Phil hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d left the room. He doesn’t even look up upon their entry.
“Phil?” Dan prompts softly, and the black-haired boy jumps as if he’d just been woken from a deep trance. He looks up, his eyes bright with tension as he quickly averts his gaze between Dan’s company, and Dan himself.
“Hi-“ he manages to stutter a couple of moments later, his slightly shaking hands not stopping fiddling with his frayed jumper sleeve.
“Hi,” Max mutters, although manages to plaster on more of a smile than Jake does. “You’re Phil, right?”
Phil nods awkwardly. “Max?”
Max nods, equally as awkward.
Dan and Ross exchange glances, Dan’s eyes screaming nothing less than ‘oh my fuck help me do something’ as he gulps, playing with his hoodie strings.
“Anyone want a drink?” Dan breaks the silence finally, his eyes studying the four boys around him.
Jake holds up the 4 pack of beer bottles. “I’ve got these, but-…” he glances inside the carrier bag. “I didn’t know he was gonna be here,” he jerks his head rudely over to Phil, “-so there’s only enough for-“
“Never mind.” Dan cuts him off quickly with a wooden smile. “You can have mine. Phil and I will share the wine,” he glances over at Phil when he reaches the door. “Is that alright?”
“Suits me,” Phil mumbles, his voice still slightly shaky. “I don’t really like beer anyway.”
Jake and Max roll their eyes at his comment, but Ross responds.
“You don’t like beer?” he repeats as if he’d just declared he hates chocolate. He adopts the seat on the other side of Phil, shifting Dan’s laptop. Max and Jake exchange uneasy glances, before settling for the other sofa opposite the two boys. “Are you human?”
Phil shudders. “I don’t know. It tastes like dirt.”
“Cheap lager, maybe,” he catches the bottle Jake tosses at him before it can shatter on the floor, cracking it open with his teeth, making Phil cringe. “This stuff is nice. Jake, where’d you get it from?”
Jake shrugs. “Tesco,” he replies monotonously.
“Tesco finest, actually,” Ross raises his eyebrows at the label. “Only the best.”
“I only got it ‘cause they were out of Carlsberg,” Jake smirks.
“Good,” Ross wrinkles his nose. “I’m with Phil on the fact that Carlsberg tastes like shit.”
“What beer did you have, then?” Max turns to Phil, and he gulps, his heart thudding as he meets his grey-eyed gaze. It’s not necessarily cold or unfriendly, just-… judgemental, he decides.
“I can’t even remember,” Phil mumbles, nearly stumbling over his words. “It might have been Carlsberg, or that weird one – Stella something-…?”
“Artois.” Jake corrects immediately, his speech muffled by the bottle lid as he bites it open with his teeth.
“Yeah, that,” Phil cringes again, wondering how the hell these boys have any teeth left.
“Stella’s not that bad,” Max shrugs, fiddling with his own glass bottle. “It’s quite strong, but-…” he cuts himself off with a shrug. “Obviously not to everyone’s taste.”
“Has Dan inflicted his weird love of liquors onto you yet, then?” Jake still doesn’t look up, but Phil thinks the question is addressed to him.
He gulps again, praying for Dan to hurry the fuck up and come back. He’s probably stuck in the hallway talking to Audrey, or Francis.
“Er- yeah,” Phil laughs shakily once he remembers he hadn’t answered the question yet. “All that Drambuie and Amaretto and-“
“Ugh,” Jake screws up his face. “Fucking Drambuie gave me the worst hangover I’ve ever had. Even worse than the time we went to Louise’s and-“
“I don’t think it’s designed to be consumed in that huge a quantity,” Max interrupts him. “You drank over half a bottle in one night and you’re wondering why you spent all of the next day throwing your insides up?”
Ross screws up his face. “Don’t remind me,” he shuts his eyes forebodingly, but Phil’s open-mouthed.
“Half a bottle?” he exclaims. Jake smirks guiltily.
“I didn’t know it was forty per cent,” he widens his eyes, and Phil shudders.
“It’s a wonder you’re still alive considering how irresponsibly you drink.” Max chuckles. “Remember the time you overdid the Grand Marnier last y-“
“Stop reminding me,” Ross screws up his face again. “I screened these memories out of my mind for a reason.”
“I really don’t want to know,” Phil says lightheartedly, daring to relax ever so slightly because these guys aren’t actually that different from Ross in terms of their similar senses of humour and teasing personalities.
“I don’t get how Dan can stomach them,” Jake mimes a gag.
“How I can stomach what?” Dan’s familiar voice piped up from the doorway as he returns with a sharing bag of Doritos, a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two wineglasses.
Jake jerks his head over to a mahogany bureau which Phil guesses is probably the alcohol cabinet. “That.”
“Probably because I’m sensible enough not to down nearly an entire bottle of Jack Daniels in a night,” Dan mutters, and it’s then Phil realises Jake’s probably infamous for his irresponsible liquor consumption.
Phil widens his eyes, and Jake chucks a cushion at Dan.
“It’s still gross,” Jake mumbles, and Dan smirks.
“Good, ‘cause you’re going nowhere near them tonight,” he warns. “Oh, my father noticed the missing bottle of rum, by the way.”
“Oh well, you can’t blame me completely for that,” Jake defends.
“But I can blame you for about seventy-five percent of it,” Dan retorts, and Phil smirks.
“What did you tell him, then?” Jake asks, a second of worry flashing across his face as he glances back up at Dan. From past experiences, his father is fucking terrifying when he gets angry.
“That I had absolutely nothing to do with it and he should ask Adam if he’s so worried about it,” he gabbles without once taking his eyes off the TV screen.
Ross stares at him, outraged. “You blamed Adam?” he exclaims defensively.
“I didn’t blame him,” Dan corrects. “Just-… y’know. Told my father to ask someone else, that’s all.”
“Did Adam know you took it, then?” Max asks.
“I didn’t take it, for a start,” Dan glares, and Jake shuffles uncomfortably. “But yeah. Probably, I mean – it doesn’t exactly take a genius to put two and two together.”
“Yeah, unless you’re Ross,” Jake smirks, reflecting back to Ross’s lack of a Maths GCSE. Half a second after, Jake’s quickly met with a pillow to the face.
Dan pours Phil a glass. “Genius or not, at least he didn’t tell.”
“Sometimes I think you could get away with murder,” Max shakes his head.
“I might need to, one day.” Dan flashes him a devious little grin, sipping the wine slowly.
-
“Christ, it’s like Piccadilly bloody Circus in here,” Adam widens his eyes upon entering. “I wanted to watch Supernatural, but-“
“Adam!” Ross outstretches his arms, and it’s there and then Dan thinks he’s probably had more than enough to drink.
Adam glances cautiously over the rest of the boys in response to Ross’s rapturous gesture. “You alright?” he smirks, carefully casual.
“Come here,” Ross makes grabby hands at the older brown-haired boy, his eyes wide and pleading.
Adam flashes Dan a warning glance. “Why don’t you come here?” he jerks his head towards the door. “Season six of Supernatural just arrived, so I was thinking-“
“Supernatural!” Ross enthuses, his eyes glittering. “I love Supernatural-…” he giggles, “-with all the demons and the blood and- and… the… the brothers and -…they do the thing-… there’s an angel and-…” he carries on his drunken garble while Adam turns to Dan.
“Don’t you think he’s had enough?” he hisses, frowning at the pile of empty bottles on the coffee table nearest to Ross.
“Who am I, his mother?” Dan hisses. “Like he’d listen. He doesn’t listen to anyone but you,” he mutters, and there’s a surprising bitterness in his tone.
Adam gives him a smug smirk, stealing a beer and raising his eyebrows as an intoxicated Ross manages to stagger up and approach him, both of them disappearing out of the lounge.
“Well, that’s the end of that,” Jake raises an eyebrow. “One down, four to go.”
Dan snorts, although curiosity begins gnawing the back of his mind. With Ross losing control of his inhibitions and acting like that towards Adam, he-… no, that’s ridiculous, he shakes his head, immediately pushing the thought out of his head. They can’t be-… no, Ross is like that with everyone – he has a naturally cuddly personality, right? No, oh my god- but what if-… no. No, no. They’re not. That’s disgusting. They can’t be-
“Dan?” Max raises an eyebrow. “You look as if you’ve just been shot.”
“I know drunk Ross isn’t the prettiest sight, but it can’t be that painful,” Jake jokes, and Dan glares at him.
“Neither are you,” he retorts, and Jake hesitates, before shrugging.
“Good point,” he nods, although it doesn’t stop him from taking another sip.
Dan smirks, although he can’t shake his nagging intuition. He settles for topping his and Phil’s wineglasses up, and tapping the volume button on the remote control a couple of notches upwards until it’s loud enough to be a suitable enough distraction.
He doesn’t know if the evening’s going well, to be honest. Ross, the only bridge aside Dan connecting Phil to Max and Jake, had vanished, and as far as he’s aware, they haven’t said more than about five words to eachother.
Although they aren’t exactly ripping each-other’s heads off, Dan realises, so that’s probably a good sign.
He feels like texting Max and Jake for an update on their opinion on Phil, but he doesn’t have the heart to secretly talk about someone sitting right next to him. Besides – what if Phil happened to glance over his shoulder? No, forget that, Dan decides. He’ll change his tactics.
“Bloody Rihanna,” he mutters, grabbing the remote and flipping over from MTV to 4Music.
“Like this is any better?” Max screws up his face at Jessie J’s latest hit now wailing out of Dan’s TV speakers.
“Oi,” Jake frowns, nudging Max. “Don’t dis my queen,” he places his hand on his heart in mock offence.
“I had to see her live,” Phil shudders suddenly, his voice soft and ever so slightly slurred.
Dan almost choked on his wine, and Max and Jake stare at him. “What?”
“Not wilfully,” Phil chuckles. “My mum bought my younger twin cousins tickets for their birthday, and their older brother couldn’t take them so I was lucky enough to get lumbered with that lovely responsibility.”
Jake snorts. “How long ago was this?”
Phil racks his brains. “A couple of months ago, I think. I don’t know. I think I screened it from my memory.”
“No wonder,” Max giggles, and Dan narrows his eyes.
“Are these the same cousins that forced you to a Michael McIntyre show?” he asks, reflecting right back to their very first ballroom dancing lesson, and by the small glitter in Phil’s eye he manages to catch, he thinks he understood the reference.
Phil nods. “The very same.”
“First Jessie J, now Michael McIntyre?” Max raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “How are you still alive?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Phil shrugs. “I’ve been through a lot of painful experiences in my life,” he places a hand on his chest in mock pain. “I guess my family’s taste in entertainment is to blame.”
“You poor thing,” Jake shakes his head sympathetically, pulling another bottle out of the (seemingly infinite) bag. “Want one?”
“He doesn’t like beer, remember?” Max reminds him, snatching the bottle off him and opening it himself using his teeth. This time he notices Phil’s wincing.
“How can you do that?” Phil stares in awe as Max spits the metal cap out.
“We have teeth of steel, us lot.” Jake answers proudly.
“Luke cracked his tooth last time he tried.” Phil widened his eyes. “That put me right off for life.”
“Well it’s a good job you don’t lik-… wait, did you say Luke?” Jake pauses, suddenly frowning. “As in Luke Luke?”
“Harrison?” Phil elaborates, and Jake nods.
“Yeah. I didn’t know you were friends?” Jake says, suddenly interested.
Phil grins, nodding. “He’s like my best friend,” he narrows his eyes. “Surely you’ve seen us around school at some point?”
“I don’t see you anyway. You never turn up to any lessons apart from Geography,” Max smirks. “You’re never in Maths.”
Phil screws up his face. “I hate Maths.”
“Wait, you two are in Maths together?” Dan suddenly zones back in, snapping his head up at the two boys on opposite sofas. “Hang on- Max, I didn’t even know you took Maths?” he frowns with confusion.
“You need to get up to date on Fernhaven news, mate,” Max shakes his head. “I’m disappointed.”
“Welfeather trash,” Jake smirks, and Dan flicks a Dorito at his head.
“I wish I could be Fernhaven trash again,” Dan whines. “I miss it.”
“We know,” Jake huffs out a chuckle.
“Stop being so clever, then,” Max glares at him fondly, before his expression softens. “Fernhaven misses you too, though.”
Dan pouts, sinking into the sofa, and Phil consoles him with a tip of the wine bottle into his glass, topping it up slightly.
“Thanks,” Dan gives him a grateful grin, returning the gesture once he notices Phil’s wineglass is beginning to run low.
Maybe it won’t go as bad as he thought. With the alcohol and the same school, and even classes as a common ground, Dan reckons the evening might not actually end in a disaster. He relaxes slightly, a conversation about Phil and Max’s maths teacher like music to his ears.
But the nagging curiosity in his mind still won’t fucking go away.
-
“Right,” Dan stands up suddenly, the room swimming. He clutches on the sofa arm in order not to fall over. “I’m making coffee,” he announces. “Who wants some?” he glances to the boy sitting beside him, his jet hair newly messy. “Phil, help me make it.”
Phil eyes him carefully, his lips tugging into a grin as he stands up (managing not to fall over due to the extra glasses of wine Dan had polished off – he’s admittedly a lot drunker than Phil is).
Dan clutches his hand for balance, not caring if Max or Jake notice – Max has probably pieced the evidence together by now; if he managed to detect it between Dan and Ryan, he figures he probably wouldn’t have a hard time making something out of the ‘terribly coincidental’ Vienna trip with Phil corresponding with the lovebites. As for Jake, well, he doesn’t care. He couldn’t care less if he knows, or not – even if he doesn’t, it’s only going to be a matter of time until he does.
All he cares about is staying with Phil, regardless of who does and doesn’t know.
They stagger to the kitchen together, Dan trips over his feet countless times and each time Phil had managed to catch him until they’ve made it to the doorway and Dan’s in fits of giggles, still clutching onto Phil for balance.
“Oh my g- oh, Phil-… this is-… this is a kitchen-…” Dan’s eyes widen in genuine awe as he switches on the ceiling spotlights, throwing a bright light over the entire room.
“I know,” Phil smirks.
“Look-…” Dan grabs his hand and pulls him forward with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old over to the breakfast bar. “It’s- look, Phil, it’s a breakfast bar-… it’s like-… wow,” he says, his voice slurred and proud as if Phil had never been introduced to the wonders of kitchen furniture before.
“So it is,” Phil widens his eyes, giggling fondly.
“Sit, Phil-… sit down-… there-…” he orders, pointing to a very specific part of the bar, and Phil obliges, hauling himself up on the white marble worktop. “Now- Oh, shit-…” Dan begins, whirling around so fast he almost slips on the tiles due to the lack of friction between the linoleum and his socks. “Fuck, Phil- I-… I’m clumsy. I’m so clumsy, wh-…” he widens his eyes, “-why the fuck am I a dancer?” he throws his arms out flamboyantly. “Look, I can-… look, Phil, I’m-… I can’t even balance properly,” he nearly overbalances again, clutching onto the cupboard to save his fall this time. “I think-… I-… like, I think I should like-… give Vienna a refund. I mean-… what kind of dancer can’t even-… like- can’t even stand up?” he shakes his head, his expression filled with exaggerated disappointment – almost as if he’d just admitted to his family he’d just lost his entire fortune as opposed to having tripped up a few times while being drunk.
“Maybe one who’s had too much to drink, perhaps?” Phil raises an eyebrow, sliding off of the breakfast bar and steadying Dan before mugs are smashed and coffee granules fly everywhere.
“Mrs. Weymouth-… would like, shit herself if-… she saw me like-… not dancing,” Dan flops his head down on Phil’s shoulder. Phil giggles to himself at the amount of sense Dan isn’t making, and he winds his arms around the shorter boy’s waist.
“I’m sure she would,” Phil murmurs against Dan’s neck.
“Look, we’re-…” Dan mumbles. “We’re like-… dancing.” He shuffles his feet clumsily in an attempt to waltz, Phil thinks. Or maybe he’s trying to slow-dance, he doesn’t know. He’s not exactly sober enough himself to come to any educated conclusions.
“Careful-…” Phil steadies him again as he leans too far into him, preventing sending the pair of them completely falling to the floor. “We’re going to end up in casualty if you carry on flinging yourself around like that,” he smirks.
Exaggerated panic flashes across Dan’s face, and he clutches onto Phil suddenly. “I-… no, let’s not go to casualty-… Phil, I-… no, no,” he frowns, shaking his head determinedly. “I won’t let you go to casualty. I-… well, maybe I will if I-… if I carry on being a shit dancer, but-… no no. You won’t ever ev-“
“Then be careful,” Phil holds his hands, stopping him from swinging them and knocking over one of the expensive-looking vases on the windowsill. “I don’t want to go to casualty either, and I certainly don’t want you hurting yourself in some stupid way,” he grins, and Dan’s eyes shine, lacing his fingers between the spaces in Phil’s to the best of his drunken ability – and it’s surprisingly accurate. Phil reckons instinct is still in his favour.
“See,” Dan raises an eyebrow. “I am being careful.”
“Good,” Phil smirks, pressing his lips to Dan’s in a small kiss.
“I’m being careful-… so careful-…” Dan sways slightly in Phil’s arms. “I’m being careful-… because I love you.”
Phil’s heart leaps a little, and he feels himself grinning. He rests his head on Dan’s forehead, pressing small kisses to the areas behind his fringe, their height difference meaning Dan had to stand on tiptoes whilst still clasping Phil’s hands, to kiss his lips.
Phil’s surprised when Dan doesn’t lose his balance, but his mind is slightly more occupied with things other than the likelihood of Dan falling over again, and he instead tries to focus on how cute Dan is when he’s had too much to drink.
“I love you too,” Phil murmurs against Dan’s lips, gently untangling their fingers so he can wind his arms around Dan’s waist, their lips still pressed against each-others in a kiss fuelled by drunken passion.
Seconds later, Dan begins shuffling backwards as Phil pushes him into the counter. Dan, still working on surprisingly skilled instinct, manages to hitch himself up onto the worktop without hitting the floor after a false move. Even if that were to happen, Phil knows he’d catch him before he hurt himself. He relies on Phil for support, Dan’s arms leaning his shoulders, but soon enough he’s comfortably sitting up on there, the marble cool against his jeans.
Dan wraps his legs around Phil’s waist, resting the crooks of his knees on Phil’s hipbones as he nudges up closer and lets his fingers sneak up into the inky mess of Phil’s hair, combing through the soft strands with soft grabs of need. Phil deepens the kiss, parting his lips until their tongues tangle together, and Dan moans quietly, breathily whispering incoherent nonsense into his mouth. Something about being ‘so fucking horny oh my god Phil I love you so fucking much just fucking oh god I don’t kn-‘ accompanied by the desperation for friction between the two of them as Dan grabs Phil’s hips, pulling them closer into him and grinding.
“Dan-…” Phil breathes weakly. “Dan-… Jake and Max-… they’re still-…”
“Fuck-…” Dan whines. “Phil, I love you,” his voice is slurred, and his eyes are half-lidded. He pulls Phil back into him, throwing his arm around his neck and planting open-mouthed kisses down from his lips to his collarbones.
“I love you too-…” Phil whines this time, his voice scratched. “That’s the problem, I-… I’m- you’re so-… oh god, no, what if they come in and see us?”
“Don’t care,” Dan’s lips don’t shift from his neck. “They’ll just be jealous because I love you more than them,” he adds. “I love you so much, I-…,” he groans, clutching onto Phil again. “I lo-…”
“Dan, we can’t do this here- not in the kitchen,” Phil whispers. “We’ll have to wait until they’re-…”
“Fuck-… Phil, but I’m so- fucking hor-” Dan unwraps his legs and slides off the counter. Phil has to catch him again before he loses his balance and slips over. He locks his hands behind Phil’s neck, staring up at him through his eyelashes. “Okay, oka-… okay, Phil. I-…I have a-… I have an idea-…” he breathes. “A better idea-…”
“Oh,” Phil stares at him, not really wanting to hear it.
Dan doesn’t give up. He grabs Phil’s hand and pulls him out of the kitchen.
“Wait- Dan-…” Phil frowns. “What about the coffee-…?” he glances to the abandoned coffee machine. “On second thoughts, I think if I made it, it would save Audrey a lot of cleaning up-…”
“Precisely, Phil-…” Dan grins deviously, sidling up to him. “But we’re both horny, right now-… right-…?”
Phil narrows his eyes suspiciously, because he can’t argue with that. “Right-…”
“So-…” Dan lifts his lips up to Phil’s neck, his shortness a disadvantage as he can barely reach Phil’s ear. “Reckon we can-… get each-other off before they realise we’re gone-…?”
Phil widens his eyes, and his face flushes red. “Dan!”
“What?” Dan raises an eyebrow, before leaning up and aiming his mouth for Phil’s lips, pulling him down into a messy kiss, his tongue slipping in his mouth and his hands knotted in his hair. “Not in here, you pillock-…” he mutters against Phil’s lips. “But-… I’m horny-… you’re hor-…”
“Okay, fine-…” Phil whines, giving up because Dan’s so fucking hot and his jeans are beginning to feel painfully restrictive right now.
He lets Dan tug him by his arm down the hallway and over to his bedroom. He practically pushes him in there, slipping through the crack of the door himself before slamming it shut behind him, locking it with a firm click.
They immediately pick up from where they’d left off. Dan launches himself at Phil in very much a similar fashion to the time they’d first said they loved each-other. Dan’s heart pangs at the memory, as he begins drunkenly fiddling with Phil’s belt – fuck, why does he always do it up so tightly? although with only one thing on his mind which doesn’t involve sending any more texts, he figures this isn’t exactly the most sentimental of times he could be thinking of such an important memory to him.
Phil grabs Dan by the waist, pulling him closer to him and trying to manoeuvre the impossible task of Dan’s own belt. He doesn’t get it – his belt constantly fails to work and his jeans are always halfway down his arse anyway, but as soon as it’s a matter of trying to undo the buckle, it’s useless. In the end, Dan ends up wriggling out of them altogether, and finally he manages to unravel Phil’s own belt, throwing the leather strip on the floor with a clink. Phil sighs, rolling over and feeling Dan through the fabric of his boxers, still in disbelief that he actually agreed to do this when Jake and Max – and Adam and Ross too, actually, - are only a matter of rooms away from them and from past experiences, Dan isn’t exactly the quietest in bed – even less so when he’s drunk.
Dan’s moaning already. “Oh- shit-…” he closes his eyes, undoing Phil’s fly and freeing him of his own jeans. Phil immediately begins grinding into Dan’s hard crotch with his own, the sudden lack of fabric accentuating the friction and making it increasingly difficult for both of the boys to keep their moans down.
Phil nudges the waistband of Dan’s boxers down just enough for him to wrap a hand around and begin slowly stroking him, kissing him to muffle his moans. Dan whimpers against Phil’s skin, and feels his way to Phil’s crotch, palming the outline of him before his own hand slides beneath the waistband, gripping Phil’s cock and rubbing his thumb over the tip, sending a shiver jolting through every bone in Phil’s body.
“Fuck-…” Phil sighs against Dan’s lips, shutting his eyes and nibbling on Dan’s lower lip, and it takes every ounce of his concentration to keep his hand moving on Dan instead of losing himself in Dan’s strokes. Dan bucks his hips into Phil’s hand, his moans mixed with his breathy sighs and arousal prickling his hips, their kiss faltering as their concentration shifts.
After a couple of seconds, they settle into a rhythm, sweat forming on their foreheads, their hair damp and their fringes gapped slightly, and their kisses open-mouthed and messy.
Phil drops his head into the crook of Dan’s neck in an attempt to try and recolour his faded lovebites, only wisely a little lower down towards his collarbone because he knows Dan has that big family dinner coming up and he doesn’t have the heart to inflict explaining that to his (mostly homophobic) relatives.
“Phil–… fuck, I’m-…” Dan bites down on his lip, his eyes squeezed shut and his head rolling back into his headboard, and the sight alone nearly sends Phil over the edge.
“Me too,” Phil bucks his hips into Dan’s, causing both of them to moan in unintentional synchronisation, and Dan feels the hot tightness in the pit of his stomach, his breath hitching as his free hand suddenly clutches onto Phil, scratching down his back and creating tomorrow’s red lines against pale skin.
“Fuck-…” Dan throws his head back, writhing underneath Phil as his mouth opens in a silent scream. His hair falls over his face and he feels Phil’s warm release cover his hand, both of them a sweaty, breathless tangle in the middle of Dan’s messily unmade bed. “Oh fuck, Phil-… fuck-…” he whines as Phil strokes him through his orgasm.
Once they’d both come down, Dan reaches for the tissues from under his bed, whipping a couple out for himself and handing the box to Phil.
“Prepared, I see-…?” Phil breathes, cleaning himself up, and Dan huffs out a laugh, feeling almost self-conscious now they’ve both came and he’s lying exposed, completely naked from the waist down in front of Phil. He grabs his boxers, managing to stand up without falling over although the room’s still spinning which serves as a reminder he’s still very drunk.
“Mhm-…” he remembers he hadn’t responded to Phil’s remark, and he raises his eyebrows once he’d made himself decent, pulling his boxers on and feeling around the room for his jeans because somehow in the space of time they’d done that, the sky outside had faded from light to navy blue and he can barely make out anything in the new darkness of the bedroom. If he hadn’t remembered Jake and Max are still waiting for coffee, he would’ve had the capacity to fall asleep there and then with complete exhaustion.
“Oh god, I can’t believe we just did that-…” Phil giggles, smoothing his fringe and his shirt down in an attempt to make it look like they definitely haven’t become very inappropriately distracted while trying to make coffee.
“Fuck-…” Dan smirks, tugging his crumpled jeans up to his hips before stumbling over to Phil, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Worth it, though.”
Phil certainly doesn’t object. They make their way back to the kitchen, both of them half-surprised Max and Jake hadn’t actually noticed their disappearance. Dan’s relieved, but can’t help himself feeling ever so slightly offended at the same time.
Phil insists on making the coffee, and Dan doesn’t object – it’s probably best he doesn’t in the state he’s in, especially when he reaches for the Bailey’s and Phil slaps his hand away, instead pouring him a glass of water.
“Come on,” Phil hands it to him. “You’ve had more than enough to drink this evening,” Dan mumbles something incoherent against the rim of the glass – the water swallows the words and Phil can only understand “love” in the unintelligible mess of gurgles. He hopes Dan was saying he loves him – despite having heard it countless times passing Dan’s lips ever since they’d confessed, every time he whispers, moans, giggles or sighs the three words, it tugs on Phil’s heart as if it’s the first time he’d ever heard it in his entire life.
“We don’t want you hungover tomorrow, do we?” Phil raises his eyebrows, and Dan gives him a half-lidded glare. He knows how foul Dan can be if he’s hungover – it was bad enough dealing with his grogginess, grumpy mood and nausea in Vienna.
“Mmh.” Dan finishes the glass, dropping it in the sink and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, finishing off with a loud burp that Phil can’t help but giggle at despite the fact they’re both seventeen, not seven.
They – well, Phil brings the tray into the lounge.
“So who wanted the-…” Phil stops in his tracks, realising the reason why Jake and Max had had no response to his and Dan’s disappearance.
Both the boys had snuggled up together under the duvet on the end of the sofa, and are both fast asleep.
“Aw-,” Dan giggles, although keeps his voice down in order not to wake them. He stumbles over to the TV, switching it off and gathering up the empty bottles and crumpled beer cans, throwing them into a bin bag and straightening out their duvet before turning to Phil, leaning into him for balance. “They look so cute when they’re sleeping,” he gives both of them a fond gaze.
“Yeah,…” Phil glances to the tray of coffee. “Only-… what should we do with that, then?”
Dan racks his brains, before his eyes light up. “Adam and Ross- I’ll see if they want any,” he whirls around, eagerly hurrying down the hall, skidding to a halt when he reaches Adam’s room.
“Adam?” He knocks loudly.
He hears a gasp from the other side of the door, and then a silence.
“Wait-“ he hears Adam’s voice, and a thud followed by a rustle. “Stay there, I’ll be out in a-“
“What are you doing?” Dan frowns.
No response. He hears more rustling, something that sounds like a shuffle, then footsteps.
The door opens. “What do you want?” Adam hisses.
His hair, nearly curled and messy, hangs in his eyes, and he ruffles it up in an attempt to neaten it back into his untidy quiff. “We were watching a film,” he gabbles quickly, glancing down to his feet before glancing up at Dan, who eyes him suspiciously. “What?” he grits his teeth with irritation.
“I was-… er-…” Dan gulps as he suddenly notices Adam’s shirt’s on inside-out, his label sticking out against his collar as if it’d been hurriedly thrown on. “I was wondering if you wanted-… any coffee?”
“Coffee?” Adam raises an eyebrow as if he can’t believe that’s all Dan had interrupted him for.
“Yeah, we-… er, we had some coffee leftover, and we were wondering if you two wanted any?”
Adam’s cheeks flush with a furious blush as he ducks his head, bringing a hand up to his neck and scratching the back of it guiltily. “Us? Well, I mean-… only if you’re making some-…”
“We’ve already made it,” Dan says in a deadpan tone. “Didn’t you listen?”
“Yeah, okay, then.” Adam ignores Dan’s attitude, before glaring at him suddenly. “We heard what you two were doing in there, by the way,” he narrows his eyes, and Dan’s own face flushes heated pink.
Dan’s stomach drops with realisation as he glances at Adam’s neck, and fucking wishes he hadn’t.
Adam hadn’t said anything, he didn’t need to. Accompanied by the messed-up hair, the pause before opening the door, the inside-out t-shirt and the unmistakably suspicious purple patch against the smooth tan on his skin, had said far more than words ever could.
“Well,” Dan shrugs, his heartbeat thudding in his ears as he tries to overcome the repulsive thought of Adam and Ross being together – fuck, that’s disgusting, he doesn’t want to even go there right now. “At least we ‘Saved it for the bedroom’,” Dan adds cleverly, his eyes flickering to Adam’s neck as he can’t help but smirk. “And evidently, so did you.”
He whirls round, disappearing back into the darkness of the hallway to get the coffee, feeling Adam’s dumbfounded stare follow after him.