"Excuse me."
Dan and Phil were maneuvering around each other in the kitchen, Phil sliding behind Dan to grab a spoon while Dan waited in front of the toaster.
It was like any morning when the two of them were up at the same time, moving like liquid in a small kitchen, flowing around each other perfectly.
This morning was different, because once Dan grabbed his toast, he glided close behind Phil and slipped his hand into Phil's back pocket while hooking his chin on Phil's shoulder to watch as he shifted through utensils. If Phil tensed at all, it went unnoticed.
So that morning was different.
All day long Phil thought about it. He thought about the casual way Dan's fingers found their way into his back pocket, and soft sigh of Dan's breath on his shirt sleeve. It was quiet and languid, utterly perfect, everything about it begging to be asked about all while being so sleepy it more or less went unnoticed. Because even though Phil thought about it, he didn't really think about it, just sort of noted that it happened. It was the morning and it happened.
That same night, however, it happened again, and then it wasn't so sleepy.
Because this time the two of them were making dinner, slipping around the kitchen without much fuss and Phil checked the water to see if it was boiling, and Dan stood next to him and put his hand in Phil's back pocket.
This time Phil froze up a little, because this time he was fully aware of Dan's presence on his bum.
"Um..."
"Oh, uh," Dan pulled his hand back and stepped away looking slightly embarrassed.
"It's okay." Phil told him, his glance lingering maybe a little too long before he remembered the boiling water, and quickly turned his attention back to dinner.
They ate together like they always did, in front of the television and not really talking as much as watching their show. Only this time was different because they kept glancing at each other.
This time was different because Phil's face was hot, and the backs of his hands were hot, and his eyes wouldn't let him watch the telly. They kept itching to look at Dan.
That night Phil laid in his bed with open eyes, painfully wide awake. He listened to the sounds of London, so deafening that night it was almost as if he were standing in the street. Another night he would not have noticed. But this night was different.
Another night he might have been on tumblr. He might have watched a movie. He might have chatted with Dan. But this night he laid in his darkened room, wishing both for sleep and something else.
He wanted Dan.
Suddenly that morning became very very important, because that morning things were easy and perfect, and he hadn't cared that Dan stood so intimately close because it had seemed so natural. Because it was natural. It was right.
Phil yanked the duvet off his body and walked quickly to Dan's room, finding Dan lying in his dark room, illuminated by his laptop.
"Phil?" Dan asked, setting his laptop aside. "Are you alright?"
Phil didn't answer, but instead crawled onto the bed and over Dan and began kissing him. Kissing him over and over and over.
"Phil. Phil." Dan whispered between kisses. "Phil, what is this?"
"Good." Phil whispered back, and then neither of them made another comment. Neither of them minded when Dan slipped his tongue into Phil's mouth, or when Phil slid Dan's shirt off. It was natural and right and good.
The next morning was different. It was different because Phil and Dan woke up together. That night would be different, because they would go to sleep together.
But soon it wouldn't be different anymore. It would be normal. It would be routine.
It would be good.
