Work Text:
“Phil!”
Phil freezes. His hand is literally in the cereal box this time.
The first time it was just that he got greedy and Dan noticed that his box was a little bit lighter than it normally would be on a Wednesday. The second time he got caught with cereal crumbs on his face. The third time, he got caught with a mouth full, which almost ended in his death after he tried to gulp it down in one go like a snake swallowing a mouse.
(That time Dan definitely knew, but he took pity on Phil after he whined that he’d just seen his life flash before his eyes.)
---
Phil cannot stop looking at him, he decides. Not, like - not because he’s hot, even though he is. Mostly not because he’s hot. Mostly because Dan hasn’t been loud enough about the cereal situation, and if Phil takes his eyes off of him for a minute he’s definitely going to be in massive trouble.
---
Dan says something about a phone call, and closes the door to his room, which - what? Not that Phil is ever going to begrudge him that, but it’s not a thing that they really have much experience with. There’s not a lot that they do separately. Half the time they'll start a call alone and then realize that they need to check in about something, anyways, so they might as well be in the same room. He tries not to listen, but he can’t even really place the tone of the call. Dan has a voice for his family, and a voice for work, and another voice for customer service, but it’s not any of those.
Dan comes back out with a sort of carefully constructed look on his face, and he decides not to ask.
---
Dan’s started staying up later and later. Phil asks if he has time for things and he mostly agrees, but he’s just a bit evasive, just a bit odd. He’s started spending time alone in his room, too. Not a lot, but enough that it’s his room again, not just a random room that they happen to have. It’s a little thing, but it’s usually how Phil knows that the world is a bit off its axis again.
He tries to be nice, and not too much of a pest. He forgets entirely about the cereal. Well, other than the times that he steals some. He hasn't technically stopped.
---
Eyes jump out of the cereal box. Eyes. Like, eyeball eyes.
Phil screams and runs before he even knows what’s happening.
He bolts into the bedroom and slams the door and yanks the covers open and generally creates a lot of mayhem, considering Dan is sleeping and having a bad -
Oh. Oh.
“You little - ” he starts, “there’s eyeballs.”
Dan’s pulled the covers over his head, but the blanket is shaking like he’s laughing.
“Little what, Phil?”
“ - spoon,” he finishes, even though - that isn’t a sentence, is it. You little spoon. That’s just true. It’s not even mean. What is he even talking about.
“That’s not an insult, actually, if you think about - ” his voice breaks when Phil reaches out and jams a hand somewhere in the direction of his armpit. Maybe he’s fighting dirty, but it’s arse-o-clock in the morning and he’s just been traumatized, so.
“I didn’t even steal your cereal and now you’ve traumatized me even though I’m innocent.”
Dan pops his head out of the blankets.
“If you didn’t steal my cereal then why did you get attacked by the eyeballs that were in my cereal?”
“I was - I - uh, was checking the cereal for eyeballs, actually, for your sake. And there were lots of eyeballs. So. You could try being grateful for a minute.”
Dan stops trying to make him see sense, at that, and just starts reaching out and trying to poke his stupid fingers in the spots around Phil’s ribs that always make him squirm. Phil probably deserves that, but he squawks and tries to get his revenge anyways. They end up wrestling and yelling more than anything.
There’s a ring at the doorbell. Dan looks down at him, considering.
“Nope, I’m distraught, I’m not answering the morning murderer,” Phil says.
“Okay. Let me get this right - you stole my cereal, and now you want to send me to my death?”
“I haven’t got my contacts in. What if they want me to sign something? I could do anything in this state.”
The bell rings again.
“I hate you,” Dan says, but he gets up. He pulls on his most embarrassing pajamas and goes downstairs a little louder than is strictly necessary.
He comes back a bit later with his lips pressed between his teeth like a kid that’s just been shouted at.
“So?”
Dan digs his way back into the pile of blankets and gets an arm around Phil’s waist. He tugs a couple of times until Phil relents and lays back down. Dan pulls the blanket over both their heads, this time, like he used to when they first met. He tucks his face into Phil’s chest like he has a secret, but he’s laughing again.
“Um, the neighbors asked if everything was alright. And then they said to keep it down, if no one’s dying, so. I think we might actually have to move this time.”
“Oh, god,” Phil whines, “don’t even bring that up right now. My heart can’t take it.”
---
They wake up again later. Phil puts his contacts in this time.
There’s novelty bouncy balls all over the kitchen, and there’s a fucking spring loaded catapult in the cereal box.
Dan argues him into picking up all the eyeballs. And making them pancakes. And cleaning up the pancakes, because he’s greedy and Phil is soft.
Phil tries his best to focus on the stove. Dan’s a bit distracting, what with how brightly he’s still smiling, the absolute menace. Phil still misses it when Dan pulls out his phone, though, at least until its jangly call tone starts ringing through the kitchen.
“Hi, Dan?” comes the crackly response.
“Hey, PJ? You were right. It works, and he’s totally blind in the morning.”