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"Phil has really crappy GHDs that don't even work," Dan exclaims, getting close to the camera. "They are PoundLand GHDs."
Out of frame, Phil holds back a laugh. They were filming a collaborative Q&A video for Phil's YouTube channel - calling it 'Phil Is Not On Fire', where they answered viewer-submitted questions in an entertaining, quick-fire compilation.
"GDHs," he says flatly, though the camera's microphone picks up his audible smile.
Dan rolls his eyes, playfully wound up at being corrected. "They are GDHs."
He picks up the sheet of paper where he had messily scrawled down the questions they were going to answer for the video, and read the next one. "Is your house still haunted?"
They then proceeded to give a small tour of Phil's, indeed creepy, house. Thank god his parents were away for the few days that Dan was here - he reckons they'd be confused as to why their son and some random lanky emo were filming each other in different rooms of the house, cat whiskers drawn on their faces, making absurd sounds and causing a ruckus upstairs. Luckily that wasn't a worry of theirs, though.
They got back to Phil's room, Dan entering first, camera still in hand. Phil lingered at the door momentarily, a small smile settled on his face, hand resting against the door frame.
"What?" Dan questioned, turning around after setting the camera back down on its original surface, now kneeling on the mossy-coloured carpet.
"Nothing," Phil shrugged, still smiling. "Just can't believe you're here."
Dan's cheeks tinted with a slight red hue, and Phil chuckled; he was so easy to fluster.
"Me too," Dan admitted, shooting him a shy smile.
He watched something flicker across Phil's expression, like he was debating something, unsure of whether or not to act. He pushed himself off the doorframe, coming over to where Dan sat awkwardly by the bed adorned in green and blue, settling cross-legged beside him.
Phil pauses, hands twisting nervously. They made eye contact for a split second, Dan catching a glimpse of blue-green-yellow that has never looked so crystal clear; the crappy webcam quality of a laptop could never do them justice. He could get lost in those eyes, he thinks.
Their eyes meet again, and they hold their gazes firm this time. Dan feels his pulse quickening in his chest, his stomach being ravaged by butterflies. The two sit there, looking, admiring, staring, for what feels like forever.
"You look cute with cat whiskers on your face," Phil whispers, like he didn't want anyone but Dan to hear what he was saying, despite them being home alone.
He lifts his hand, and it rests on the side of Dan's face. His expression is soft, certain. His eyes flit down to Dan's lips.
Dan's mouth goes dry. He swallows, watching as Phil's tongue darts out to wet his own.
He feels a thumb caress his cheek, and Dan leans into the hand slightly more than before.
"Can I kiss you?" Phil asks, inching closer, so close Dan can feel hot breath against his skin. His arms break out in goosebumps, the flurry of butterflies growing stronger.
He barely gives an answer more than a breathy "yes," before they meet in the middle.
This wasn't their first kiss. This was Dan's second day in Manchester - the first day was spent in the city, where they avoided contact as much as possible, weary of what people around them would think if they saw two boys being affectionate with each other. As soon as they got to Phil's house, however, they were kissing all night, barely able to keep their hands off each other.
And right now, was no different. Phil's hand that initially rested on Dan's cheek had slid towards the back of his head, fingers threading through the straightened hair, finding their home amongst the strands. He urged Dan's head forwards slightly, pressing their mouths closer together.
It had started off slow, languid - but was slowly progressing into something more heated.
Dan let out a groan, hand scrambling to find Phil's waist. When he couldn't find it, he grabbed Phil's forearm, pulling him towards himself. Phil took the hint, clambering into Dan's lap, settling comfortably and straddling his thighs.
They had a better angle here, Dan's hands trailing up and down Phil's sides, stomach, chest, as both of Phil's hands now held either side of Dan's face, lips pressing together more harshly. Their mouths moved in tandem, like they were trying to familiarise themselves with the other, inside and out - like if they broke apart for one mere second, the other would disappear into thin air.
Phil shifted slightly in Dan's lap, pulling a cut off moan from him, Phil taking the opportunity to further deepen the kiss. It was all tongue and teeth, pent-up desperation clutching both of them in a tight grasp. A grasp that neither of them wanted to wriggle free from.
Dan felt like he was floating; Phil was his anchor.
Exploring hands found themselves all over each other - Dan's ending up tightly intertwined in Phil's equally-straightened hair, which he's sure won't look quite as neat and kept as it did when they started filming - oh well. Phil's hands were now roaming over any sliver of skin he could find - whether exposed or underneath Dan's clothes, neither of them really cared.
They just wanted to make home under each other's skin - beneath each other's ribs - and stay there forever; build a home, build a life, never to leave the other's side.
And that's what they planned on doing, at least they hoped to.
Now that Dan was here, real, sitting on Phil's bedroom floor in Manchester, neither of them wanted him to go back home. They'd be back to being stuck chatting on Skype, messaging, when they'd much rather remain right here, in this moment. No late-night video calls or hours-long text conversations would ever beat the feeling of their lips colliding over and over, breaths becoming one, teeth clashing whilst they memorised each and every curve of the other's figure. Nothing felt more like home, than right now.
"Dan, wait," Phil breathes, watching a flicker of disappointment fill brown eyes as he pulled away for a moment, the two of them trying to catch their breaths. "The camera's still rolling."
Dan freezes, his entire body going stiff - if he wasn't already blushing, he certainly was now. He actually felt his ears heat up at the realisation.
"Oh um, yeah, you're right," he whispers, suddenly going shy.
He watches Phil stare for a few seconds, then a smirk settles on his features.
"Your nose has rubbed off."
"What?" Dan sounds shocked, hand reaching up to his nose, then he sees the Sharpie on Phil's face is also rather smudged. "Oh."
Phil giggles, and Dan follows suit, the two of them now sat in an eruption of their own laughter.
Phil rolls off of him, letting out a little oof as he collides with the carpet. He quickly glances at the camera, back at Dan, then grins.
"Let's make a deal," Phil suggests. Dan cocks his head like a puppy - Phil thinks he's adorable, and presses a kiss to Dan's nose, adding to the smudged mess of Sharpie. "We finish the last few questions we have left, then we can kiss all we want."
Dan pouts.
"Don't give me that look," Phil pretends to act stern, hands on his hips. Quite frankly, he looks anything but stern, for the now-smudged cat whiskers and messy hair make him look silly, and very, very unserious.
Dan pretends to think, then sighs, defeated.
"Fine, but you better keep your promise."
"As if I'd ever turn down kissing you," Phil purrs, pressing a wet kiss to Dan's cheek.
Dan starts giggling again, blush creeping up his neck. Phil bursts out laughing, leaning into Dan's lap to hide his face.
He sits up after a few seconds, a stupid grin on his face, tongue poking out between his teeth as he reaches a hand towards the camera, covering the lens entirely.
"Holy shit," Phil mumbles under his breath, watching as the screen turns black. He called out, louder than before, "Dan, get in here."
Dan appears in the doorway of the office, confused.
"Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?"
"Sit, and shut," Phil pulled back Dan's chair, letting him take his place.
"Slut," Dan said, pulling himself closer to the desk. "What's gotten you all worked up?"
Phil didn't say anything, just moved his mouse to drag the bar of the video across the screen, to the start, and let the video play, Dan's eyes tracking his every movement.
Said eyes widened, watching the scene unfold in front of him. A lot of the video was obscured due to where young Dan has abandoned the camera, it was mostly a view of Phil's back as he climbed into Dan's lap.
Unmistakable, though, were the wet sounds of lips smacking and pressing together, the ruffling of their clothes as their bodies moved, a particularly audible groan from young Dan filled the room of their office, emitting from their speakers.
"Holy fuck," Dan swallowed, shifting slightly in his chair. His stomach felt like it had twisted, but not in a doomful, gut-wrenching way - it was almost comforting. He watched as the fire between their younger selves was interrupted by past-Phil's voice, the panicked look on his own face as young Dan realised the camera was still rolling, then the breakout of giggles that followed.
"Yeah," Phil breathed. Dan watched a small blush dust his cheeks.
"Mr 'I love lying' wasn't lying after all."
"I told you I'd found it, bitch."
"I thought you were just baiting the audience again."
Phil chuckled, shrugging. "Sometimes I am the Master Baiter, sometimes I speak the truth, I am capable of both, Daniel."
"Don't say 'Master Baiter'," Dan scrunched up his nose, faux disgust taking over his features.
"I can't believe I actually found that video," Phil said in shock.
"Yeah, and I can't believe a clumsy idiot like you had it uploaded to your YouTube channel. Look," Dan points at the screen now showing Phil's unlisted videos. "The thumbnail is almost the same as the actual PINOF video. That could've gone awfully."
"But it didn't," Phil sassed.
"Oi, cheeky."
Dan pointed his finger at Phil, the latter leaning forward and pretending to bite it, teeth clashing together.
"Chompers to yourself, I'm ordering food," Dan waved him off. "Want your usual?"
"Please! And a fancy drink."
Dan nods, standing to leave the office. He stops at the door, looking back at Phil.
"Oh, add that video to the playlist for tour," he smiles. "And for the love of god, don't unlist it."
Phil salutes at him, pulling a laugh from his partner as he leaves the room properly.
He drags the video to a separate playlist, grinning at its title it had been saved as, the one he'd quickly typed almost 17 years ago before sending it to Dan personally.
"Lol O-o"