Work Text:
The morning dawned cool and inevitable. Phil's eyes felt dry when he worked them open, like they often did more and more these days. He supposed it was age, and thought abstractedly of the years drying all the moisture in him out, like he was a puddle of water getting smaller and smaller. He squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them again Dan's form was there, the curve of his bare shoulder coming slowly into focus.
He reached forward and touched it with the pad of each finger, one at a time. As ever it was smooth and warm.
"Freak," Dan mumbled.
"Are you up?" Phil asked.
"Not really," Dan said, turning slowly over onto his back. The bare shoulder was now suddenly much closer to Phil, and so he pressed a kiss to it and didn't raise his head after.
Dan sighed a breath out slowly. "Shaping up to be a good day," he said without opening his eyes. "Even if I do have to spend it with a shoulder fetishist."
"We could go out tonight," Phil said.
Dan took a moment to consider and then shook his head. "I don't want to spend today worrying about being safe." He opened his eyes, then, and turned his head to look at Phil. Already he was smiling, his whole expression folded into something familiar.
"Okay then," Phil said to Dan's shoulder.
"I don't really want to get out of bed today at all," Dan admitted.
"Well, we don't have to."
"That's bad," Dan sighed. "That's against the rules." It was more a principle of life now than just a rule, and it was that they still had to get out of bed even if they had nothing to do.
Phil shifted closer and let Dan's arm stretch out and around him, easy. He felt so small like this, like a little trickle of tap water cupped in Dan's hand. "It's not," he said. "It's what's called a holiday."
"I miss holidays," Dan yawned.
"So we'll make today a bedcation," Phil said, closing his eyes again and feeling like cupped water.
"Hm," Dan said. "You're a temptress. And it's a Monday."
Monday, Monday, Monday. And it wasn't as if they didn't have anything to do.
But Phil's eyes felt so heavy, and he was so warm, and he was held. Vaguely, very far away, he heard Dan asking, "Are you asleep? Again? And on my arm, of course," but Phil could hear that the last part was softer and tireder, too.
He dreamt, long and hard, of being on a train.
When he woke up Dan was snoring, soft regular rumbling noises, and the patch of his arm Phil's cheek had been on was slightly damp. Phil shifted very slowly and used the collar of his t-shirt to dab at it apologetically. Then he dabbed at his own mouth. He stilled, but Dan didn't move, and the snoring didn't cease. Phil settled back down.
There had been so many Monday mornings. The years crept up on you and wrung you out and you didn't even notice, not until you woke up and your eyes felt drier. Phil supposed that this was terrifying in its own way.
But it was hard to care when you had something that would always be in boundless supply. Dan was such an incredible, endless well.