Work Text:
The living room is dim, Dan is definitely drunk, he’s got lipstick that’s manifested itself in his hand (he found it under the coffee table) and Phil sat beside him, nearly in his lap. What is he supposed to do?
“Don’t you touch me with that,” Phil half-laughs, slurring slightly, even as he lurches closer and has to put a hand down on Dan’s knee to steady himself. Dan leans in, pressing a clumsy kiss to the tip of Phil’s nose.
“No promises,” he murmurs, not pulling away. Phil smiles and tilts his head to kiss him back, missing a little and mostly just getting his top lip instead of his mouth, but Dan doesn’t really care.
He hasn’t gotten this hammered at a house party in years. He doesn’t think PJ expected a little Easter get-together to culminate with his still-mostly-(not really)-closeted gay friends collapsed in a corner and draped all over each other, but here they are, and there’s really nothing to do about it.
“Hold still,” Dan orders, pulling away, his hand lingering on the side of Phil’s face. Phil sticks his tongue out, slowly leaning closer. The movement has a distinct lack of control about it, and Dan’s free hand slides down automatically, flattening itself against the infinitesimal curve of Phil’s chest.
Dan pushes him away. “Shut,” he starts, and then doesn’t finish, instead clamping the lid of the lipstick in his teeth and pulling it off. “Hold still,” he repeats, his words jumbled around the plastic, wielding his weapon ever closer to Phil’s face without really thinking about where he’s going to end up.
“Fuck!” Phil squeaks, nearly taking a bite out of the lipstick as Dan accidentally lays a dark red smear across the corner of his mouth.
“Sorry!” Dan squeaks back, making a valiant attempt at steadying his hand before going back in. Phil’s eyes are fixed on his face and his mouth keeps twitching into a smile, and it’s unfairly adorable and it’s really not helping.
Dan pulls his bottom lip into his mouth without really noticing, unconsciously letting the cap fall to the carpeted floor, and lets his thumb pull at one side of Phil’s mouth, tugging it out slightly so he can get at the corners. Phil lets out a soft puff of laughter, then snorts, and ducks away. When he straightens up again, his eyes are sparkling in the light streaming from the half-open kitchen door behind them and there’s lipstick on his nose.
“Phil!” Dan whines, reaching out and attempting to thumb it away. The only thing he succeeds in doing is smearing it out even further. “Hold still,” he says, for the third time, and collapses into laughter when Phil purses his lips and freezes, more or less.
“This is hopeless, Dan,” Phil says, his fingertips brushing the soft skin just under Dan’s chin and gently lifting his face so the can look at each other. He steals the tube from Dan’s limp hand and examines it, then turns his gaze to Dan’s face.
“Be careful,” Dan says, and closes his eyes as Phil drags the pigment across his lower lip. He alternates between swiping and dabbing, and it’s almost soothing.
“Perfect,” Phil says after what might have been an awkward amount of time if they were both sober, but Dan’s really sleepy and just a little too much past tipsy and a lot in love, so he opens his eyes, smiling slightly. Phil’s lips are parted and the sight of his mouth hits Dan again, dark red paint more or less following the curves of his lips, save for the mishap trailing like wine-coloured smoke off the right corner.
“Come here,” Dan says, sitting up and twisting around so they’re facing each other. His hands find Phil’s face again, and a fleeting, flawless feeling of being perfectly in sync with each other swoops through Dan’s stomach when they lean in simultaneously. The snogging starts simple enough, but then tongues come out to play and Dan can taste the faintly sweet cosmetic flavour whenever he licks into Phil’s mouth. It’s oddly intoxicating.
“Come here,” Dan repeats, yet again, and lets his mouth wander, over the lines of Phil’s cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. Phil returns the favor, mouthing along Dan’s jaw line, tilting his head gently back so he can get to his neck. Dan smiles, closing his eyes, and rolls with it.
At some point Phil pulls him into his lap, and they stay there on the floor for a long time, kissing lazy and languid and careless. When Dan finally pulls away, Phil’s face is thoroughly marked up, the red on his mouth thoroughly fucked up, the red on Dan’s mouth streaked across both of Phil’s cheekbones, on the tip of his nose, and just off-center on his chin. They pause and look at each other for a second. A smile is tugging at the corner of Phil’s mouth.
Behind him, the kitchen door creaks further open and the triangle of artificial light on the floor beside them fans out and creeps up until it’s on the wall above their heads. Phil squints. There’s a tiny squeak from behind them and Dan turns around, grinning at the outline of Marzia in the doorway, not quite oblivious to the streaks of color on his face.
“Oh!” Marzia says, one hand coming up. Her fingers hover just against her mouth as if she’s not sure whether she should cover it or her eyes. A laugh bubbles out of Dan unbidden as he rests one hand on Phil’s shoulder, the other planted on the ground to keep his balance. They’d never really gotten around to telling her about their not-really-closeted situation.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says, her lilting accent making the corners of her words tilt upward in a way that Dan can’t help but devote all his attention to. He glances back at Phil, and they share a quick smile before Phil crosses his legs and pushes Dan away.
He leans in for one more kiss, quick and sweet, before turning and trying very hard not to trip on his way into the kitchen. Marzia gives him a wide-eyed look as he passes her, the beginnings of a smile curling the corners of her mouth.
He pauses in the doorway, and Sophie, sitting on the counter beside the fridge, glances at him. Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead, and for a moment, her gaze slips from his face to just over his shoulder. He’s positive she and Marzia are having some kind of silent conversation via eye contact, and he moves out of the way, leaning against the counter opposite Sophie and waiting patiently.
He can hear PJ and Felix’s conversation from the office space just down the hall. All the doors are open, and Phil is on the floor in the other room covered in lipstick and probably doing some heavy explaining to Marzia, and Sophie is watching him with half a smile on her face.
“You look like you’ve been having fun,” she half-giggles. Dan grins, shrugs.
“Yeah, well, you should see the other guy.”