*A/n Hey guys, I'm back and totally meant to upload this yesterday, whoops. I bring you chapter two of this short phanfic though, and I will be updating weekly. Enjoy!

Before Phil and I started watching our favorite anime together every morning, I used to wake up and find him doing random things, hell sometimes he wasn't even home. I'd wake up to an empty apartment, or one with Phil cluelessly mashing the keys on the piano, or just doing who knows what. Now I can pretty much count on him waiting for me on the couch when I get up.

That's how this morning started, and when he heard me coming down the hall he stood. I'll admit, he was kind of looking at me weird, but not the kind of disgusted weird, or creeped out weird. He almost looked... I can't even describe it, okay?

It was probably my hair, to be honest. I basically just rolled out of bed minutes before so it was all curly and shit. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with my natural hair, and I quite liked the way Phil was looking at me... but it gave me a feeling in the pit of my stomach that made me want to run to the shower and look proper, if that makes sense.

I went to go turn, pointing down the hall and saying something about going to shower, but Phil did this thing where his lip turned into this irresistibe pout, and I just shrugged.

"Okay..."

I laughed, he laughed, and eventually I sat down on the couch and waited for Phil to join me. When I looked up though he was walking to the kitchen, classic Phil and his food. So I got back up and joined him.

We had no bloody cereal, which sucked because that's like all I ever eat for breakfast. I was on one of my rants, complaining to Phil about his addiction, when he stopped me with a single look.

"I could make something..." he said.

I didn't mean to be rude or anything, but I burst out laughing, hardcore. There were tears falling down my cheeks as I agreed sarcastically, and he squinted his eyes at me.

"You don't think I can do it, do you, Dan?" Which only made me laugh harder.

"Neither of us can cook, Phil. Remember our failed pancakes? The only thing I can make is stirfry, and even that sucks." I got a little chuckle out of him at that, one where he stuck out his tongue adorably, and I grew quiet, taking him in for a quick second, something I wish I'd done more the night we'd stayed up after we'd won our Oscar.

"Watch me cook us something, Dan. And if I can't... I don't know, you'll get hugs forever, or something."

My mouth grew dry at this. Did he really mean what he was saying? Probably not, but I laughed anyway and sat on one of the stools at our counter.

"Hugs forever? Why not just whatever I want?" I said as I watched him move around our kicthen, pulling out this pan and that bowl, our broken whisk from Tescos and some eggs and other things. I knew immediately what he was going to make.

"Do you not like my hugs, Dan?" He said, half turned to me. I wasn't sure how to reply at first, so shrugged as I stared at a piece of his dark black hair that fell into his eye.

"Well I haven't had one in a long time..."

Phil's hands were already floury from mixing the ingrediants together. He abandoned his bowl after I spoke and swiftly walked over to me, embracing me in a nice, warm hug to which I didn't know how else to respond so I just hugged him back, and he didn't let go for a while.

Finally, I had to remind him. "Phil..." I said softly. "The food."

"Right." He practically squeaked, and he all but skipped back to his bowl. I thought I saw a small blush on his face, but I wasn't sure.

"I don't know, Phil..." I told him, and without looking up, he said "What don't you know, Dan?"

I watched as he failed at adding food coloring to his mix, getting it fucking everywhere. I wanted to help him, come up behind him, wrap my arms around his waist, grab his wrist and show him how much to put in, but he wanted to do this himself, so instead, I kept on running my mouth.

"I don't know what to choose if you can't make us breakfast."

Phil turned around and acted like I had insulted him. "Excuse me, I think I'm making breakfast perfectly right now."

I giggled at this, and retorted with "Oh yeah? And I suppose the food coloring all over the counter is just for show?" He nodded as if it were obvious.

"Do you not like my hugs or something, Dan?" He asked. It was around this time he began to lubricate the pan, but he was doing it all wrong. I jumped up to go help him, but of course, he wasn't having any of it.

"Phil, you're doing it wrong." I tried to argue, attempting to take the slipery butter out of his hands. He laughed and took it back.

"Am I supposed to do it like this?" he asked, lubricating the pan in a mimickry of how I would, his hips effectively swaying and leaving me in a trance.

"Good job, Phil!" I said, clapping. "Well done."

He did a little bow and I stood by his side as he made the pancakes for us, this time with no video camera on us, and he occasionally wiped his floury hands all over my black shirt and pants, probably just to annoy me, but for whatever reason I found it bloody adorable, don't ask.

"It looks like I was attacked by a polar bear throwing snowballs at me." I had commented, looking down at my clothe right before Phil tackled me. He ended up having me pressed to the counter, unable to escape. Our kitchen was destroyed, our stomachs full, and the rest of the day free to do whatever we wanted, and Phil chose to hold me hostage against the counter.

"What are you doing, Phil?" I said, my chest rising and falling as I chuckled. He was nearly pressed flush against me for crying out loud.

His grip on me was firm as he snuggled his head into the crook of my neck, and his stupid shampoo filled my nose without my permission.

If I had to choose anything, I'd choose hugs forever from him, any day. But I couldn't tell him that.

"Looks like I lost the bet," I mumbled quietly after a while. I heard him sigh contentedly.

"I'll still give you hugs forever."

I smiled when he said that, not bothering to correct my behavior until he pulled away. "Ready to watch some anime?" he asked with an excited gleam in his eye.

I agreed with a grin and he grabbed my hand, pulling me into the living room to sit beside him, close to the point where our thighs were touching.

Usually he would have just grabbed my wrist, and we wouldn't have shared a blanket, but there was something about the early afternoon atmosphere that gave me a warm buzz, and I didn't mind.

I'd even do it again for a chance to hear Phil speak as softly to me as he had been doing all morning, the loving looks he gave me probably meant to add on to his confession from that night.

And yet I still didn't see.