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"How come we never roleplay?" Dan murmured against Phil's lips. Phil pulled his head back slightly in order to contemplate Dan's face before he answered. He took in Dan's slightly flushed cheeks and his parted lips, looking for any hint of a joke behind the question. No dimple in sight; he was serious.
"Roleplay?" Phil brushed his hand up Dan's arm, taking pleasure in the warmth of his skin and the way Dan leaned into his touch. "As what?"
Dan licked his lips. "I don't know. Anything."
Phil's mind flooded with options. Too many, in fact. He bit his lip to keep the Mario he so desperately wanted to say from escaping his mouth. No, Mario's not hot, don't say that, he scolded his brain. What else is there? Phil pulled Dan's face back down to his and kissed him to buy more time. Now there was only Luigi flashing through his thoughts. Phil, come on! Anything, just say anything.
They parted and Dan looked at Phil expectantly. The pressure was unbearable for both of them, though for different reasons. To Phil, the silence was unbearable, too. It was now or never.
"What do you want me to do to you, George?"
They were both still. Dan stared at Phil for an eternity. Or maybe it was just two seconds, Phil couldn't be sure. He attempted a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. Probably looked it, too. Dan sat back on the sofa and dragged his discarded jumper with him, holding it over his chest in an unfamiliar display of modesty. He's put the nipples away. I'm in trouble. Phil sat up and moved further down the sofa to mirror Dan's position on the other end. They had been seconds away from breaking in the new piece of furniture, how did this turn into a stand-off? Well, a sit-off, really.
"Who the fuck is George?" Dan asked, still covering his torso.
"I don't know, you tell me! I thought we were roleplaying." Phil could tell Dan was fighting back a smile, maybe even a laugh. Dimples were on the horizon.
"Phil. That's not how you roleplay."
"Well, I don't know! Should I be George?"
Dan laughed in spite of himself and dropped the jumper into his lap. "Oh my God!" He ran both hands through his hair and looked at Phil with equal parts exasperation and fondness, and then rolled his eyes for good measure. Phil leaned across the sofa and pushed the jumper out of Dan's lap before manoeuvring himself to take its place. Dan laid his head back against the armrest and pulled Phil's face down to his, searching out the yellow in his eyes. "You dork," he told him, just before their lips met.
"Well, who's going to be George, then?"
"George can be George, somewhere else living his George life. I'll be Dan. And you be Phil. I just want you to be Phil."