you could go swimming in those eyes

by namelikeafairytale, organizedcure (namelikeafairytale)

Notes:

so. there was this picture. on facebook.

and i don't know. my natural reaction to this was to comment with:

to which, my reaction to my own reaction was:

and the lovely girl_in_stripes and noellabear just had to say go, and i was on it like fucking teoh on logan. unf. or if you're like me, and you have NO morals/any mind to even process fidelity, like ben on teoh in tom's flat while tom's making them breakfast and is totally unaware. lol.

anyway. this: #yeahidon'tdocaptilazation, and #alsothisisunedited.

so. okay. dan was drunk. he wasn't just buzzed, or feeling good, or in lalaland, as phil liked to say, he was fucking smashed. there was a possibility, that he'd treaded over into the realm of doom and alcohol poisoning, but honestly he'd only drunk about half the bottle of malibu in a couple minutes, an hour or two ago, and had been nursing it since. even then, the alcohol had gotten to him. and so, okay, he was drunk and slumped against a sofa, and he felt tiny and precocious. he wanted to tell everybody how cool he was and make no mistake about it, he tried to. very hard. but everyone else was too high up to care, considering he was on the floor, and they were on their legs, being not-so drunk and walking like the pissers they all were.

and then dan thought he saw phil and he sort of shouted. at everyone. but nobody cared, because he was actually whispering so no one heard. he thought of trying to stand and get phil's attention that way, but he had no idea how legs worked, and at the moment, he deeply resented everyone who had this knowledge. instead he suckled at the edge of the bottle and rolled his eyes and felt the world tilt with his retinas. yeah, okay, no doing that anymore.

"dan," phil's voice said, "dan, are you drunk?"

dan giggled and he open his eyes to see phillip, awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot and dan giggled more at that, and then phil was all limbs and hair and right next to him.

"phil," dan started, "phil, i don't know how to use my legs. give me yours."

phil stared straight ahead, seemingly not even listening to dan.

"phil! give me your legs!" dan whined, waving the bottle around, the liquid sloshing around and some of it leaking out onto the two of them.

"hey," phil said, "why i am wet?"

"that's what she said," dan snorted.

and phil joined in, leaning against the wall, mimicking dan and then the two of them were laughing together, per usual. and then dan thought they shouldn't be laughing, because then everyone would see how cool phil was, and that he was cooler than dan and dan still felt precocious enough to silence phil's laughter with a hand over his mouth. but like anyone who even barely knows phil knows: YOU SHOULD NEVER PUT YOUR HAND NEAR PHIL'S MOUTH. and phil bit at it. gently. and dan screamed like he was being massacred.

"what the fuck," dan seethed, irrationally angry with the alcohol in his brain, probably eating through his last law review. oh well, didn't need that information anyway. lawyers. ha. like he spends time at uni.

"hey," phil countered, "you teased me."

"i was trying to shut you upper, you git." dan said.

"upper?" phil asked.

"oh my god, phil, the malibu is killing me, first my legs now my brain." dan said, seriously.

phil consoled dan with an offering of more malibu, and dan took it.

they sat there in silence for a long while. which is a feat beyond extraordinary, and yet no one but themselves were there to see it. they people-watched, and then that got boring, so they played thumb wars, but dan's eyes couldn't see that well, and then phil decided there wasn't enough alcohol, so he tried to get up to get more. but that wasn't happening.

"you've infected me," phil accused, "i was fine before i met you, and now i'm all useless."

dan listened to these words. he listened hard. and his throat swelled like he was allergic to them, and then he smiled graciously, consoling. he didn't know why he smiled, but he rarely knows the reasons behind why he does anything nowadays.

"phil, shut up," dan told him.

and it wasn't demanding, nor was it jokingly. he meant it. he needed phil to shut up. dan could feel everything. all these smiles crawling up into his stomach, they were running around and messing everything up. they told him that phil was nice and warm, and that phil's flat was more like home than his house or dorm would ever be.

and dan didn't know why the smiles were telling him all this, just that he had to listen to them, or else all the bad things would happen. phil stayed quiet. he usually listens to dan, anyway, and that. that is what the smiles say is what matters.

dan felt the smiles creeping into his sides, and he felt every centimeter of skin pressed against skin with the barrier of clothing. thin shirts and bothersome denim, and dan didn't know whether this train of thought would take him to some mysterious land wonderful like narnia or horrible like mordor. he wanted off. now.

phil must've noticed. phil always notices, because he has his fingers in dan's belt loops, and he's guiding dan off the train, away from the all-knowing smiles, back to him. back to where dan belongs. and dan's eyes are closed and everything is suddenly too loud now. everyone's talking against each other, in like chinese or canadian or something foreign and wicked, and he feels smaller than before, and phil's fingers are warm. and they are nice. and then he's reeling, he doesn't know if he's floating, or flying, or falling and he grabs onto something. soft, warm. and clothed. and very much shaped like phil's leg.

"hey dan," phil whispers to him, he doesn't have to, but the intimacy feels really good in dan's mind, it holds him here, tethered to the softness of phil's voice.

"yeah, phil?"

"dan, i think, i think, i um, i want-" phil manages to get out and dan chuckles a little. this is not familiar at all. they don't do this. they don't slaughter words when they talk to each other. that's for socially-retarded people, and lovey dovey weirdos who haven't quite figured it out yet.

oh.

and suddenly dan is sober. he is of completly rational and sober thought when he leans into phil and rests his forehead against phil's temple. he is completely sober when he breathes out against phil's cheek, and he is sober when he smiles at phil's stuttered intake of breath.

he noses down the side of phil's face, breathing him in, and phil smells a lot like alcohol but he also smells like sour patch kids and laundry and shampoo. and dan might be a little buzzed when he decides that all of those things are his favorite.

dan is inches away from phil's mouth, but he doesn't want to go there yet. but he's sure as hell not going back, not when phil is nearly yanking dan by his belt, not when dan is kind of, well, this close.

"dan, i-" but phil never finishes his sentence because dan is pressing kisses to his ear, and phil relaxes. his shoulders slump and he's making small breaths, which dan feels is inadvisable. he could die. and dan doesn't want that. dan mouths his way along phil's neck, each kiss as he moves, getting tighter, more chaste, but not less adoring.

and then, i don't know, he's in phil's lap, nearly, and they're facing each other, and phil is blushing. he is red and his face is hot and dan feels this. he thinks he feels exactly like phil. like he's meant for this. meant for this moment, and all the sober thoughts are gone now. all those sober actions, they're irrelevant, well, not irrelevant, but they don't mean as much as this.

and dan is so love-drunk when he kisses phil. and yes, he kisses phil, because he never wants phil to doubt anything ever again, not that dan would not want to stay the night, not that dan liked his other friends (lol, what other friends) more, and dan definitely never wanted phil to doubt that dan wasn't just as much as in love with him as phil was.

phil has no qualms about kissing dan back. and shit, dan is just so very aware of how many qualms phil doesn't have. because phil would totally win best kisser in the world. he beats out everyone. warren beatty, ramona flowers, diane keaton, blaine, everyone.

but no one but dan will ever know this, ever, because fuck the world if anyone thinks they're going to kiss phil. not anymore. okay, so dan's drunk and possessive and in love. and phil's drunk and the best kisser ever, and he better be in love with dan, but hey, at least they're not so obliviously emotionally stunted any more. and when the flash goes off, and the familiar sound of a shutter clicks, dan lets phil lick around the inside of his mouth for a few more seconds, before discovering his legs worked all along and he trudges over to the girl with the camera and begs, totally undignified to erase that last picture.

fuck if he was going to provide that kind of fodder for the slash fiction writer-fans of his.