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It’s chilly outside.
Phil wakes up breathing in cold air, his arms and the tops of his shoulders almost numb from where they’re outside the safety of the blanket.
Unlike most mornings where he wants to remain comatose as long as possible, this morning he sits up almost immediately. His eyes are clear and any trace of sleep is gone.
Snow .
He can feel it in his bones, the beautiful bite of the icy wind outside even though all the doors are firmly shut. It fills him with the giddiness of a child, and he throws the covers back, pushing his socked feet into slippers. Dan is still sleeping peacefully, having not stirred at his movement, and he takes a second to admire him.
But only a second.
He crosses the room to the window and peers out of the blinds, grinning widely at the expanse of white in front of him. It’s still falling, slowly and peacefully, and Phil couldn’t be happier.
“Wh-?” Dan murmurs, but he’s still sleeping and Phil ignores him, intent on going downstairs to stand in the snow. He at least remembers to pull on a jumper but it’s thin and the first one he can find, but he doesn’t care. He wants to see the snow.
When he gets out there, he regrets the choice of jumper. The cold air hits him with an icy blast of wind but he’s grinning as his face gets so cold it feels hot, and he steps into the snow. It blankets the other apartments, a layer of marshmallow fluff covers every surface.
The first snowfall of the season is always his favourite. It’s hope, and new beginnings and it means warm drinks and blankets and cuddling. He couldn’t imagine ever living anywhere it didn’t snow - he would miss it too much, he thinks.
He tilts back his head and lets the snowflakes settle on his lips and in his hair, opening his mouth to taste them. It’s only then that he shivers and remembers how little he’s wearing, and how cold it really is. It’s fine though - he needs to wake up Dan, and let him enjoy it as well.
He trudges back inside and up the stairs, leaves his wet slippers just inside the door, and pads to the kitchen. He heats up a cup of milk in the microwave, careful not to let it spill over the top (he’s done that way too many times), before putting in two heaped spoonfuls of hot chocolate, one level spoonful of coffee, another of sugar, and a touch of the caramel syrup in the fridge. It’s Dan’s favourite, and Phil’s favourite to make.
They still have banana bread from the store, and Phil heats that up as well before spreading a generous amount of butter on it, fascinated for a moment as it melts and drips through the loaf. Once he’s made himself a coffee, he takes the breakfast up on a tray, desperately careful but still managing to spill a little of his coffee over the edge of his cup.
Balancing the tray on their side-table, he heads to the window again and pulls the blinds open, exposing Dan to the sunlight which elicits a very firm, “Fuck off,” from beneath the covers.
Phil doesn’t mind - nothing could bother him today, and he crawls into bed beside his boyfriend and fights to pull the covers down so he can see his face, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
“Good morning.”
“I repeat. Fuck off.”
Phil smiles, “It’s snowing.”
Dan actually opens his eyes this time, bleary and confused, “Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now. He knows what it means to Phil.
“Uh-huh,” Phil whispers back, “For a while now, too. It’s beautiful outside.”
Dan frowns through half-open eyes and it becomes more of a reprimanding squint, “You’re not dressed. Why did you go out?”
“It’s snowing?”
“Not a good enough excuse. You’ll get sick,” he says, before squriming slightly, pulling his legs closer to his body, “It’s too cold in here.”
Phil leans over and grabs Dan’s cup, “I made you something to warm you up.”
Dan’s eyes open properly and he smiles for the first time, rolling onto his back and sitting up. Truth be told, these mornings were good for Dan too - Phil was extra affectionate - it was hard not to catch his excitement..
He accepts the cup and takes a sip, humming appreciatively as he swallows, “Thank you.”
“Annnnnd banana bread,” he says, beaming as he moves the tray onto their laps and picks up his own coffee, taking a long drink.
“You know, this might actually be better than Christmas,” Dan muses, picking up the banana bread and taking a bite, moaning softly, “Damn, yep, better than Christmas.”
Phil just grins, “You know that this is all a ploy, right?” he says softly, “The faster I get you up, the quicker we can go outside and take cute snow selfies and play.”
Dan laughs, a closed mouth smile with crinkled eyes as he shakes his head with a bit of wonder for the other. He’d never met anyone like Phil. As a kid, anyone over the age of thirty was officially boring. They didn’t play in the snow, unless it was with little kids. They didn’t keep stuffed animals and they didn’t seem to get excited over anything. They sat on couches, complained, drank beer and cursed at football.
Dan was fairly sure Phil wouldn’t ever change. He could imagine them at eighty, struggling out of their beds and getting their walkers so they could shuffle into the snow and die of pneumonia.
Phil fidgets beside him restlessly and Dan smiles, taking a longer sip and trying not to get distracted.
He’s being so patient, trying not to rush Dan and lets him finish his caramel mocha before finally pestering him about getting dressed. Dan hassles him back for not wearing enough - forcing him to add a beanie, gloves and a proper snow jacket even after he put on shoes and changed his pants.
Eventually they’re ready. It’s somehow mid-morning and it’s only just finished snowing, but the sun isn’t really that warm and it’s still beautiful outside.
Dan steps out and takes a moment to appreciate the snow covered world they’re surrounded by, snapping a few pictures. His personal favourite is one of Phil from the side, the camera watching the way he takes in this wonderland, eyes full of amazement and his mouth open with joy.
Phil rudely pulls him from admiring the photo with a snowball to the face, and then it’s on.
They run around the courtyard, facing off in a snowball fight. From the upper floors Phil can see their neighbours peering out of their windows to see the commotion and he’s almost embarrassed. The feeling passes as Dan lets out a whoop of joy when he pitches a snowball to Phil’s shoulder and it hits its mark. He’d happily make a fool out of himself with Dan by his side.
They throw snowball after snowball, ducking and diving behind trees and pillars. They cheer each other on and get disappointed when they miss, sometimes intentionally getting hit just to give the other a win. It’s stupid and they’re laughing; their noses red and their clothing soggy.
Phil runs and he’s caught in Dan’s arms, and the laughing turns hysterical as they try to catch their breath. It somehow turns to kissing and Phil’s conscious of their neighbours, pulling away and letting his forehead rest against Dan’s. It’s no less subtle, but Phil feels better for it and he’s still trying to breath, chest heaving.
“You need to try some cardio,” Dan pants, just as breathless. He’s still got his arms around him, squeezing him gently (again, not helping with Phil’s breathing situation).
Phil coughs out a laugh, landing a quick kiss to the corner of Dan’s mouth, because he can; because it’s snowing and cold and they’re both sopping wet.
“Shower?” he asks and Dan nods gratefully.
Dan doesn’t mind indulging. He can admit that it wasn’t all for Phil - it was actually a lot of fun - but he’d still rather have been in bed.
He follows Phil back to the house, and when they’re in the safety of their hallway, he stops him, pressing Phil against the wall. His eyes are bright as he leans in to finish their kiss, licking along the seam of his frozen lips before pulling away.
“I love you.” Dan murmurs softly, pressing one last lingering kiss to his mouth. Phil melts against him, eyes so full of love that it almost hurts Dan to pull away and race up the stairs, “Dibs on first shower.”
Phil’s eyes widen, the love in his eyes now dead, “Oh, you tricker!” he whines, struggling to chase him up as he laughs, “That’s the last time I fall for your affections…”
“Pfft,” Dan laughs, “You’ve been doing that since day one, Lester.”
Phil pouts at him from the bottom of the stairs, “Mean. Don’t use all the hot water...”
“Mm, now I’m definitely going to use all the hot water,” Dan says from the top, hanging over the banister to gaze down at him, “I guess you’re just going to have to join me.”
It’s hours later. They’re warm under two or three blankets, but Dan’s got a small fan on the side-table because he needs the air if he’s going to be this warm. He runs hot like a furnace, even in the winter. Phil is the opposite, doing an impression of an ice cube beside him; still cold even with the multiple blankets and Dan’s body heat.
Phil is asleep, his breathing deep as he snores softly. Dan isn’t sure why - something to do with another warm drink, and being exhausted from their snowball fight. Phil’s getting old, but that's okay. It feels nice. Dan’s laptop is balanced on his lap and he’s catching up on videos - because sometimes it’s nice to see it all from the other side. Plus, the friends’ he’s made at the numerous conventions are mostly American and he misses them.
He wakes Phil up when he can’t contain a laugh, and the other man snuggles in happily, bleary eyed but waking up and squinting at the video. He won’t be able to see it - his glasses are on the table beside him, but Dan lets him struggle.
“Hey,” Dan murmurs softly, and Phil gives up, throwing an arm around Dan’s stomach. He presses his cold nose against Dan’s side, rubbing his face against the fabric of his shirt.
“Mm. Time?”
“It’s only like, two in the afternoon,” he says, and Phil sighs contently.
“Can we get lunch delivered?” he asks, stretching, and Dan pauses his video to check the roads, making sure they’re clear before shrugging.
“Sure, but you can go to the door when they get here.”
Phil grumbles but agrees, and before long they’ve ordered something and he’s definitely awake, stressfully checking the tracker.
The food arrives without incident (as it always does), and they’re sat on the couch, eating in silence as another youtube video plays in the background. It’s not anyone they know - some compilation video highlighting the new upstart youtubers of that year. They like to compare the editing techniques, and judge their content. They’d never criticise them in a comment, but it was a fun way for them to unwind, especially when they were eating.
It starts snowing again as the sun starts to dip, and they’re back to cuddling. Phil snuggles in tight, letting his eyes close happily. They have no obligations for another week - a video or two to shoot, maybe, but they don’t have to leave the house for another couple of days if they really didn’t want to.
When the next video ends, Phil pauses it and leans against Dan, cold fingers snaking beneath Dan’s layers of clothing to rest on his bare stomach. It makes Dan frown, a soft noise leaving his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he turns his head to kiss Phil’s forehead gently.
“Everything okay?” he asks quietly, and Phil just smiles.
“Can it be the first day of snow every day?”