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“When did I become such a lightweight?” said Phil, hunched miserably over the cafe table.
“What d'you mean when,” said Dan, his voice deep and gravelly, as it had been since he woke. One of the only pleasant after-effects of their night out, Phil thought. “You've always been a lightweight.”
“True.” Phil sighed, fiddling with the curling edge of their menu.
“Where's our food?” he whined.
“It's coming,” said Dan.
“Ugh,” said Phil. “Sorry. Hangry and hungover isn't a good combination.”
“...Hangrover?”
“Exactly! The worst.”
Phil was saved from his suffering as their waitress finally appeared with their meals. While he usually preferred a sweet breakfast, sometimes a hangover demanded something savoury. He dug enthusiastically into a hash brown as the waitress brought their pile of toast.
“I'll butter the toast,” said Dan, pulling the shared plate towards him.
“Thanks,” said Phil around a mouthful of potato. He watched Dan peel open the tiny butter packets and get to work.
“Get it into the corners,” he said, putting his fork down for a swig of coffee.
“Alright,” said Dan sniffily. “You can butter your own toast next time.”
Phil looked at him for a moment.
“I buttered my own toast this morning, actually,” he said.
Dan paused in his buttering, looking up at him in confusion. Phil watched his slow morning brain catch up, arching a sly eyebrow to help him along.
“You - oh! What? Why? When I was right there?”
“You looked peaceful. And I know you had trouble falling asleep.”
“Yeah, but still,” said Dan, looking slightly affronted. He glanced around, before lowering the volume of his voice.
“Did you actually - right there?”
“Yep,” said Phil. “You were snoring away.”
“I don't snore.”
“You do when you've been drinking.”
“You should have woken me up, then.”
“Next time," said Phil. Dan shook his head, smiling.
“Did you enjoy yourself, anyway?” he said, cutting into a veggie sausage.
“Mmhmm,” said Phil. ‘But we need to stop off at the shops on the way home. We're out of... um ... butter.”
“Oh, my God,” said Dan, letting his fork drop against the plate with a clatter.
“Sorry,” laughed Phil.
“It's too early for this sort of filth.”
“It's half twelve.”
“Exactly. I only woke up an hour ago. Just because you woke up earlier.”
“I feel like it's never too early for filth where you're concerned, though.”
“Mmm. True.”
Dan went quiet, staring thoughtfully at nothing as he chewed a mouthful of mushrooms.
“What you thinking about?” said Phil, starting on the toast.
“Just - picturing,” said Dan, his gaze refocusing on Phil.
“Stop,” said Phil lightly. “We're in public.”
“I'm not saying anything.”
'”No, but you - that look on your face - ”
Dan's loud laugh turned a few heads their way. Phil studiously avoided eye contact with any of them by examining the fried tomato abandoned on the edge of his plate.
“Can't take you anywhere,” said Phil, meeting Dan’s amused eyes.
“Hey, you brought it up.” Dan paused for effect. “Literally.”
“Stop,” said Phil again, laughing now.
“Honestly, though,” said Dan. “I wouldn't have minded - helping.”
“Aw, thanks,” said Phil. “The only time you're helpful when you've just woken up.”
Dan chased a stray bean across the plate with his fork and shrugged.
"That's what I'm here for,” he said. “To - ” He gestured at the plate with his knife. "To butter your toast."