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Dan doesn’t want to get up. He wants to bury himself a little more into the covers. He’s got himself wrapped around Phil’s body like a koala, head on his chest, listening to the sound of Phil breathing. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. He can feel Phil’s fingers skim across Dan’s arms. This is safe. This is comfortable. Dan’s not really all awake yet but it feels good.
The alarm goes off again. Dan groans into Phil, pushing his arm to get it. They’ve slept through three of them so far spaced out between ten minutes.
“I think we need to get up.” Phil says rubbing Dan’s back now.
Dan shakes his head, placing his hands over Phil’s mouth. “Shhh,” He says, flinging the covers over them so that they’re both under the duvet.
He opens his eyes now, looking at Phil who’s looking down at him in delirium and amusement.
“We can just stay here for a while.” Dan closes his eyes again and he can feel Phil moving down the bed more so they’re eye level.
Phil likes watching Dan like this. There’s something about tour that gives Dan a little bit more pep in his step. Maybe it’s the thought that they’re doing something and meeting people. Maybe it’s the fact that this is the start of something new for both of them. He doesn’t know, and they don’t really talk about it much but in passing, over a cocktail or two after a show. This time it’s different, in a way. He doesn’t know how, it just is.
Phil reaches out cup Dan’s cheek, his fingers brush against the baggy under eyes.
Dan thinks that Phil is going to say something sweet with the way that he stares at Dan’s lips, but it ends up being:
“I need coffee.”
Dan rolls his eyes and rolls over stealing all the blankets and Phil kicks him a little, poking at his side being the first to get up and grab his phone. He’ll be the first to take a shower and the first to be dressed this time. It’s like they switch turns on who’s going to be stuck to the bed the longest before they have to get up.
*
It’s much later when they leave their hotel, knowing that breakfast is over with but they peek their head in anyway. Phil grabs his phone out of his pocket and types a word into yelp. Dan peeks over his shoulder to see what he’s typing and he knows that he shouldn’t be surprised by now by Phil’s love of sweet treats but he is. He can’t blame him though. He pinches his side and he’s contemplating grabbing his phone out of his pocket to take a video of this moment they’re having. Except, he kind of likes these small moments that just belong to them. The audience will know, eventually, in the way that they can control to tell them.
“This is a walk away from us,” Phil tugs on Dan’s sleeve, desperate for a coffee and something sweet in his mouth. He laughs at his own joke, following in suit.
“You reckon everyone ate?” Phil asks, looking back at Dan who’s trailing behind him on his phone.
“Probably. They’re more productive members of society than we are, remember?” Dan teases, but he feels kind of bad. He likes the people they work with, but he also likes his alone time. (Phil is just an exception to that alone time.)
Phil doesn’t comment on that, he knows it’s true.
It was nice to sleep in a little, cuddle a little. It’s nice to be openly affectionate in the safety of their room. They were never one to be physical with each other in public, it just wasn’t who they are, but every now and then they’d sneak tiny touches, fingers that lingered on a little too long, and that was fine, but this was just. Nice. Nice to have this time.
*
Phil takes a picture of his coffee and contemplates posting it later. Dan smiles watching as Phil looks out the window. It’s starting to rain again. They don’t talk a lot, it’s just silence sometimes, and when they do talk it’s in short sentences that they can interpret and understand.
Dan orders an English Breakfast and steals some of Phil’s pancakes. Dan takes pictures of Phil trying to stuff his mouth and washing it down with hot coffee. They swear they’re adults but they make a scene sometimes with their laughter.
“Christ, Phil, you’re a right fuckin’ mess,” Dan says handing Phil an extra napkin with the amount of chocolate and syrup that he’s got on his face.
Dan pays the bill, and it’s still raining.
“It’s pouring,” Phil echoes his thoughts.
“Yeah, we can run.” Dan suggests, but they won’t.
“I ate too much.” Phil places a hand on his stomach and Dan laughs a little.
“Me too.” Dan pats his hand on his stomach too and they wait for a while.
“We could just live here. We could have pancakes for breakfast every day for every meal.”
Dan smiles a little, feeling warm.
“I’d think you’d get tired of it, Phil. It loses its specialness if you have it every day.” Dan puts his hood on, knowing that his hair will still be a curly, frizzy mess by the time they make it back to the hotel.
“Maybe.” Phil says, but Dan knows that he doesn’t really believe it and he loves him for it.
Things will still be special no matter how used to it he’s gotten, Dan likes to think he fits in that category somehow.
“Come on.” Dan tugs on Phil’s sleeve now.
*
“It’s quite floppy, isn’t it?” Phil stands in front of the mirror trying to make his hair look acceptable again from the downpour.
Dan is fixing his curls, wrapping the tiny bits of hair around his finger because he’s heard that works.
“You look fine.” Dan reaches over to run his fingers through it, trying to make it in a way that Phil would like it, reaching over to grab some product and putting only a dot on his palm and he rubs his hands together.
Dan is gentle, glancing at the way that Phil looks at him, knowing that Dan is going to care for him because it’s something that he’s good at. There’s a trust between them that they know about, even with something as trivial as hair styles and what amount of product to put in it, it counts.
“There.” Dan finishes, cupping Phil’s cheek.
They need to get going soon, looking at the time. They spend the last couple of minutes on the bed, tinkering around with filters and stickers, whether they decide to post it or not is entirely up to them, either way, it was one of the best mornings they had.
*
When they’re packing up the car to go to the venue one of the people ask, “Didn’t see you at breakfast this mornin’. Did you go out?”
“Overslept, we ended up walking to get breakfast.” Dan says with a small laugh, tucking in next to Phil in the middle seat.
“Oh. Was it any good?” They’re looking down at their phone typing away at something.
“It was good.” Dan says with a small smile, the conversation ends, and that’s fine. It doesn’t really mean anything to anyone else. Just to them.