okay, I realize that this is late, but I was sick on Dan's birthday and I couldn't write anything for it. this is cheesy and flirty but I thought it was okay so you guys can read it. enjoy!
~~~
Phil was awake before the sun was, out of his bed before the birds outside his window had even begun to sing, driven by an important purpose that kept even the strongest exhaustion at bay. The house was dark, and silent, quiet enough to hear Dan's peaceful snoring in the room across the hall, to hear his bed creaking as he shifted in his sleep.
Phil yawned widely, stretching away the last vestiges of sleep. Then, he smiled, his eyes twinkling with inspiration as he tip-toed silently from his room, and down the hall.
There were decorations in the lounge, balloons and streamers hidden stealthily beneath the couches, and Phil grinned as he pulled the secret boxes out into the open. He lifted a large, colorful banner from the box, letting out a soft, mischievous chuckle at the message painted on the front. It was the epitome of perfection; surely, Dan would agree. Nodding to himself, he set down the banner, and got to work.
It was a tough job, but one that Phil was happy to do. The sun rose as he worked, spilling golden light through the windows and across the floor, across Phil, and he couldn't help but smile as he spared a glance at the sight. Every wall was a window — just as he'd wanted.
Ten minutes later found Phil, tired and winded but so, so excited and proud, standing in the center of all his hard work. Bright balloons caught the light of the sun as the floated around the lounge, bumping into banners and streamers that waved in the wind from the air conditioner.
Phil got to his feet and surveyed his work, turning in a circle. Crossing his arms, he nodded decisively, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction. Giving one last proud nod, he turned, stepping into the kitchen.
Eggs. Cheese. Sugar. Flour. He made his way through the kitchen quickly, the pile of ingredients on the counter ever growing. He pulled out a pan and a bowl, whisked together eggs and milk and cheese and spices, and poured them into the pan, smiling as their satisfying sizzle filled the room.
As the eggs cooked, he began to throw together some pancake batter, turning to flip the cheesy mess every few seconds, his nose wrinkling from the smell of the cheddar. When it was perfectly golden, bits of orange goo leaking from it in places, he slid the omlette from the pan in one swift motion, and let the pancake batter take its place. Now the kitchen filled with a much more pleasant scent, and Phil smiled as he sprinkled chocolate chips over the bubbling pancakes.
Distantly, he heard Dan's snoring falter, and he held his breath until it resumed, his brow shining with anxious sweat. The surprises he'd planned were perfect — but they hinged entirely on Dan staying asleep until he was ready. He quickened his pace, pushing the pancakes onto the plate beside the omlette.
He chopped an apple into slices, and poured a tall glass of orange juice, nearly spilling it in his rushing. Only one last touch, and then it was complete...
A heart of whipped cream was the perfect finish, a literally sweet romantic gesture that Phil knew would melt Dan's heart. He let out a breath, relieved that he'd managed to finish in time, and smiled proudly to himself.
Carefully, he lifted the heavy plate and the glass of juice, and set out for Dan's room.
"Happy birthday to you!" he sang, pushing open the door to Dan's room and strode inside, proudly holding out the tray of food. Dan groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow, his hair sticking up at all angles.
"Happy birthday to you!" He pulled open Dan's curtains, bringing a flood of bright sunlight into the room. Dan groaned even louder, burrowing under his blankets to escape the light attack. Phil chuckled, setting the breakfast on Dan's table so he could lean down and press a kiss to his exposed forehead.
"Happy birthday dear Danny!" He drew out the 'y' in a dramatic swell, spreading his arms wide dramatically, and Dan poked his head out of his blanket fort to whisper a halfhearted, 'fuck you.'
"Happy birthday to you!" Phil finished, and Dan, his eyes narrowed, clapped slowly and sarcastically.
"Thanks, Phil, really," he began, and Phil could sense the oncoming snarky remark, but then Dan took notice of the steaming, delicious looking breakfast sat on his bedside table, and his thoughts died on his tongue. He looked up at Phil.
"Happy birthday, Danny," Phil said, quietly this time. "I made this for you!"
"Oh. Thanks, Phil. Really." His words were soft, sincere, all traces of sarcasm gone, his cheeks turning pink as he looked back at the meal. "It looks delicious."
"No problem, bob-lem." Phil chuckled, his laughter growing louder when Dan playfully punched him in the arm. "Go on, dig in!"
Dan took a forkful of eggs, and then turned to offer Phil a (literally) cheesy grin. Phil mimed puking, jumping to his feet to get away from the cheesy kisses that he knew were coming. "I'm gonna go get myself something to eat. Be right back!"
"It had better not be my cereal!" Dan's cry followed Phil out the door, and Phil laughed out loud because, as they both knew, it was going to be. He strode into the kitchen and began to clean his mess, wiping sticky orange juice from the counters and shoving eggshells into the sink. He hummed as he poured a bowl of Crunchy Nut.
He heard Dan's door open as he closed the refrigerator door, licking milk off the corner of his mouth. He took a spoonful of cereal as he stepped out of the kitchen, smiling slyly when he saw Dan, frozen as he stared up at the banner. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned to Phil, his eyes narrowed in confusion, and gestured at the banner, which read, in bright, purple letters: "Happy Birthday Aniel!"
"Phil," he began, speaking slowly. "I — and, correct me if I'm wrong, but — isn't there a 'd' in Daniel?"
Phil's smile grew wider. He swallowed his cereal, drew in a breath, his cheeks turning pink as he offered Dan an over-exaggerated wink. This was it. The moment he'd been planning for weeks. He cocked his head to one side, smiling even wider.
"Don't worry, Dan," he responded, his voice soft and flirty. "Later tonight, there will be."
A pause.
Dan's eyes widened.
Phil broke out laughing as he choked on thin air, his face going as red as a traffic light as he doubled over, hiding his face in his hands. When he finally recovered enough to speak — and it took about five minutes; Phil was counting, watching as Dan broke down — he lifted his head, tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes — from mirth, or pure pain? Phil wondered; in the end, either way was hilarious — and spoke only two words, two words spoken in pure honesty from his heart: "...fuck you."
Phil broke down in laughter again, and Dan would be lying if he said he didn't laugh, as well. Through his chuckles, Phil managed one last sentence. "By tonight, you will have."
A pause.
Dan sighed.
"Phillip. Micheal. Lester." Dan punctuated each word with a step towards Phil. He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk on his red face. He leaned forward, catching Phil by the lips — they tasted like apples and orange juice and whipped cream, and Phil had never tasted anything more delicious — and when he pulled away, he only had one thought on his mind. "Why wait until tonight?"
And that is how Phil Lester died, his bowl of cereal slipping from his hands to spill onto the carpet, his face going red enough to combust; but then he found life again in Dan's lips, as they found their way back to the bedroom without leaving each others' embrace, and later he found it again, as they laid beside each other on the bed, sweaty and panting and tangled around each other.
"Phil?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks." A pause, and then: "This has been the best birthday ever."
Phil chuckled. "No problem, bob-lem!"
"...never mind. I take it back."