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“You have no idea,” Dan says, his hands gesticulating in a way that’s mildly out of his control. Phil is sitting really close to him. He feels a bit like he’s on fire. “I’m actually the most socially hapless person you’ll ever meet, trust me.”
“You’re not that bad,” Phil says, and he’s smiling and shit. He looks really good in a suit, and probably even better without it. Or without anything, actually.
Shit.
“Some people are easy to talk to,” Dan responds, forcibly dragging his hands down into his lap and staring at them to make sure they don’t go flying away into the air again.
“Am I?” Phil asks, “easy to talk to?” and Dan’s heart skips a beat and jump-starts to fever speed.
“Sometimes,” Dan replies, not sure why he’s letting his mouth keep running on, dragging him yet deeper into the hole he’s digging. “Mostly you just make me really nervous.” He probably looks like that girl’s dress over there: bright pink and out of control.
Phil lets out a surprised what? kind of laughter-y noise and Dan forgets how to breathe for a second. “Me, make you nervous? Why on earth do I make you nervous?”
“Because you’re really cute. Because I like you.”
Phil’s grin melts away into a soft, slightly shocked smile, and he leans in. His hand is on Dan’s knee. Why is his hand on Dan’s knee?
“Guess what,” Phil says, and his voice sounds a bit like honey and a bit like uncertainty and a lot like a parade of butterflies dancing the tango in the pit of Dan’s stomach. He’s going to die. He’s going to fucking die and hopefully he’ll be able to do it with the memory of having snogged Phil Lester.
“What,” Dan replies, his voice a husk of what it once was. He clears his throat and repeats the word, but Phil reaches up with his hand that’s not already on Dan’s knee and cradles the side of his face and the sound dies halfway through. His thumb brushes over Dan’s bottom lip and the pad of it is just the right side of callused and Dan thinks he’s maybe going to explode.
“Can I kiss you?” Phil breathes, the slight drift of the air that carries his words washing over Dan’s cheek, warm and sweet from all the sugar-loaded food at this godforsaken high school prom that just might turn out not to be quite so godforsaken, if what Dan thinks is about to happen actually does.
“Please,” he manages, and Phil hesitates to smile before he closes the gap between them. His mouth is soft, softer than his breath, and warm and Dan can’t conjure up a single coherent thought so he kisses back with all of his very small repertoire of kissing skills.
When Phil pulls back, he sticks his tongue out and dabs Dan’s lower lip with the tip of it, barely-there and just a hint of wet and yeah, Dan’s definitely crying himself to sleep tonight. There’s another slow, gentle kiss, one that clings a little when Phil draws away, and Dan’s jaw goes slack at the feeling.
“Hah,” he pants out when they finally break apart, and Phil looks down and grins like he can’t help himself.
“I like you too,” he says, and it’s as juvenile as if they were twelve years old and just learning how to like people and Dan’s still a socially hapless idiot but Phil’s fingers are intertwined with his and he’s got a new, close-to-perfect memory to store away in the back of his mind for his bad days, so things right now are pretty okay.