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Phil's first thought is that he is too cold. His second is that he is half diagonal and hanging off the edge of the bed.
Blearily, he hauls himself back into it, and leans back against his elbows. The cold night air drifted across his bare chest and he blinked slowly into the twilight hours of the morning. He always wondered why it’s considered the morning if it’s still so dark outside. How would you see the werewolves and the monsters?
Phil reaches groggily down onto the carpeted floors of their bedroom and fumbles around for his phone. His lack of awakening is truly hindering his searching. He huffs and peeks over the bed to grab his phone, made only visible by the stupid photocard of Dan in his case. The light of the setting moon is bouncing onto his forehead and off somewhere into the night.
Upon half killing his retinas with full brightness to the face, Phil notices it’s just past 4am. He drops his phone back onto the floor and sighs. It could probably have been mistaken for a sob, honestly.
He thinks about Dan’s wrists and his collarbones. He would smile at the thought that after 16 years they’re more like an old married couple, but his hands are limp in his lap and he wishes he had the vigour that he had at 23 years old when Dan would jump his bones any chance he had, and they would melt into a joined harmony of heavy breaths and hushed moans.
Shit, Phil must be getting sentimental in his old age.
The truth is, when you’ve known someone for so long and you’ve seen every angle and neared every sound, you grow into that comfort. There’s a luxury in the domestic, Phil thinks. What a privilege to know someone so gently.
Frankly, before his mind can catch up with how pathetic and needy he sounds, he gathers all the strength he can muster when he’s half asleep and calls out Dan's name into the night.
It sounds more like a wail than he intends, but before he can ponder the embarrassment of it all he hears footsteps downstairs, that tread lightly on the stairs of the house.
Phil sits up slightly, and watches the bedroom door creak open.
“You okay?”
He’s wearing an old t-shirt that’s neckline is far too stretched to be considered a ‘neck hole’, and a pair of black boxer shorts that have ridden up his thighs.
His hair is soft and ruffled on his head and his eyes are questioning.
Suddenly Phil feels incredibly stupid for being so clingy, and just dumbly stares back at Dan for what feels like hours.
Suddenly, Dan's face softens and Phil watches as his eyes travel over him, landing on his face.
“I missed you”.
He’s actually never felt so stupid in his life. He’d rather be back in that Halloween baking video than where he is now.
Dan, however, simply climbs onto the bed and pulls him into a tight hug.
“I know, love.”
He strokes Phil's blonde hair and snakes an arm up and around his back, smoothing comforting circles over Phil's back with his thumb. Phil lets his head lean onto Dan’s shoulder and trains his eyes down onto Dan's lap.
Two strong hands on his face, his thoughts are pulled away and Dan leans in and softly kisses his hairline. His lips linger, and Phil lets his eyes close.
He thinks about Dan's rib cage and wonders if he could fit inside. He lets himself smile softly at the thought.
He’s really getting sentimental at his age.
He lets himself think of Dan's wrists again. The white flesh and the thin blue lines running down towards his forearm. It’s just past 4 am. He’s wide awake, but he figures he can indulge himself into a dream if he wanted to.
Phil leans back away from Dan’s face that was resting on his hair, and he runs an arm down Dan's arm. Phil holds his wrist loosely in his hands and inspects it slowly. The moonlight is making it shine and glimmer in the dark room, and in a moment of indulgence, Phil leans forward and bites onto Dan's wrist. He feels more than he hears Dan's soft gasp at the sudden movement, and he bites down further.
Sometimes, Phil thinks he'd be a good vampire. Like a really good vampire. In fact, if you asked him to stay awake for eternity to look at Dan then he would without hesitation.
Phil lets his eyes flutter closed at the feeling of Dan fidgeting beneath him. He wondered idly if he’s going too far, but before he can form the whole thought, Dan gasps out loudly into the silence of the moonlight. He grabs a handful of Phil's hair and yanks him upwards, until they’re almost eye to eye. Phil thinks if he breathed then it would be the only air Dan would be able to receive.
He follows Dan’s gaze down until it finds the mark; a ring of bruising flesh and near punctured rivets from his canines. Phil feels a tug in his abdomen and fleetingly wonders if he’s a psychopath and a sadist and deserves to die and that of the like, when Dan yanks his head forwards and meets him halfway into a passionate kiss. Their teeth clash together but it doesn’t matter, because Phil has Dan again. He lets a soft moan escape his lips and Dan deepens their kiss, his tongue licking inside Phil's mouth. His hand is still tightly pulling at the base of Phil’s neck, and he has to clench his eyes shut to not moan at the feeling of it.
Dan starts trailing kisses down his neck and chest, and holds Phil's hips tightly in his new position sat on his thighs. Phil knows that Dan knows he’s hard, because he gets this look on his face. Like he’s proud of himself still after all these years. Something in Phil tugs in his stomach and he lets himself wrap his arms around Dan's shoulders. He’s got actual biceps now from his gym adventures, ones that Phil will NOT be joining him on. But he likes that Dan always asks him as he puts his trainers on and tells him it’s fun, even though he knows Phil's answer anyway.
It makes him feel warm and soft and pathetically happy.
Dan pulls away and looks at Phil. He smiles softly before linking his thumbs into the waistband of Phil’s pajama bottoms. He lets himself stare at the mark on Dans arm, purple and blue and red and angry, and his. All his. He feels himself go under, and he knows that he wouldn’t trade this for the world.
He must be getting sentimental in his old age.