Electricity shot through the entirety of Dan's body from his head to the tips of his fingers and toes as his neck was assaulted by Phil's mouth, every nerve ending aflame. Shocked and caught unawares, all Dan could do momentarily was stand, dumbfounded, his jaw slack. Involuntarily, he sagged a little into the hard pull of Phil's mouth, letting a high pitched noise escape his lips without his control before he knew what he was doing.

The sound snapped him back into awareness, and this was wrong, wrong, wrong-

"Phil..." He'd meant to say it sternly, but his friend's name came out hoarse.

"Mmm," Phil rumbled deep in his throat in response as he continued. Dan searched his wrecked brain for his next option for a few seconds, for too long, faltering when Phil began to suck below his jawline.

"Phil- Phil, no- I-" Dan's hand's began to scrabble dumbly against Phil's torso, weakly attempting to halt his friend's advances, not really finding the strength to throw him off. One of Phil's hands, the one that had been around Dan's shoulders, had traveled up to Dan's hair, while the other felt down his chest, lifting his shirt and sliding back up beneath it-

The pull on his neck suddenly became pain as Phil's teeth scraped skin (a pain that set his blood to boiling, but still sharp enough to shock him into action), and that was it. Dan gave an almighty heave and wrenched himself away from the embrace, while Phil spun into the banister, grabbing a hold of it before he could tumble down the stairs.

"I... I'm getting your jacket!" Dan spluttered, and he turned tail and fled down the hallway.

He rocketed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and backing up against the far wall to get still farther away from whatever the hell he had just experienced out there in the hall. He spotted Phil's jacket on the counter and snatched it up, then pressed himself to the wall again, trying to calm his ragged breathing. His neck tingled and stung where Phil's mouth had been, and he tried to ignore this feeling as his thoughts raced.

Okay. There wasn't a way Dan was going to turn a blind eye to this one. He was fully conscious this time, and the question he'd had about what Phil's lips felt like against his skin had been answered in far more detail than he'd ever hoped to have. But the real question here, and one he should have been answering before now, was whether he really had hoped for it- to have something happen, to experience this thing, whatever it was. To know some shard of what had spurred him to seduce Phil last Friday. He winced at the word seduce, but it was true. He had. He just... didn't remember.

And now, his heart was racing, his fingers were trembling, and he was all shaken up from his flatmate coming on to him. Why did he do that? Some combination of alcohol and pent up tension, he supposed. But it meant something that Phil couldn't communicate, or refused to communicate, when he was sober.

Phil still felt something for Dan.

It was very apparent now, and all suspicion Dan had about PJ had flown far away. All Dan had left to discern were his own feelings toward the situation, though he was pretty sure he knew what his body felt about it from the excitement coursing through his veins at this moment.

All the same, he didn't want to accept it. This was new to Dan; the first time he had ever kissed a guy was last weekend, and he didn't even remember the experience well enough to have something to draw from. He might have had sex, and he might have even initiated the sex, but he didn't recall a stitch of it. Other than some wayward dreams, he had nothing to prepare him for something like this. And it was his flatmate, hisbest friend. Worse, it was Phil. Jesus Christ. Phil had kissed him on the neck just now. He and Phil had slept together last weekend.

Everything was starting to hit him now, and he let it. The realizations he had been trying to avoid and deny washed over him, and with the tide, he grew less frenzied, more collected, calmer than he was before. Slowly, he pried himself off the wall, dropping the jacket to the counter again, in a daze. He faced his reflection. They had to deal with this, but it had happened. It had happened, and they might as well stop hiding from it. There was a certain ease in this acceptance, and he knew it was the first step to repairing things. Maybe.

Dan started to note his appearance as he gazed at himself. He was flushed, his hair mussed from where Phil had stuck his hands it it. As he turned this way and that, trying to pat it down to make it look presentable, he caught sight of something on his neck that hadn't been there before, just below his jaw underneath his ear. A little red mark.

"What is that? What is that?" Dan muttered to himself, stretching his head to the side to get a better look. Oh, no. That couldn't have been. It was. It was.

A hickey.

"Nope, nope, nopety, nope, nope," Dan muttered to himself, hitching up his collar to try and hide it, but to no avail. The mark was too high, and though it wasn't very visible now, he knew that by tomorrow it would be a darker bruise. "Fuck."

He examined it for a few more seconds before he noticed that it was very quiet out in the hall, and he'd left Phil very alone, and very drunk.

"Shit." Dan grabbed Phil's jacket from it's spot on the counter top, forgetting all about the mark for now, and launched himself out of the bathroom.

Phil, thankfully, had taken it upon himself to sit down on the first stair, and had not run off anywhere. However, the tears had reappeared, Dan saw as he came closer.

"Phil? I..." Dan swallowed as Phil turned his head to observe him, his usually bright blue eyes dull and bloodshot again. "I brought you your jacket."

He held a hand out to Phil and helped him up, hoping that maybe Phil was too drunk to consider or even remember what had just transpired. He helped Phil into the jacket, patting his older friend on the shoulder, trying to be consoling.

Phil swayed, but didn't say a word. He didn't let Dan help him this time, instead stumbling down the stairs by himself before Dan could even offer. The younger padded down after him, unsure of what to make of Phil's behavior. Phil didn't waste time opening the door and stalking out of PJ's flat drunkenly, Dan trailing behind, ready to catch his friend should he fall.

When they hailed a cab, Phil finally began to lean a little to far to one side, and Dan reached out to hold him steady as the taxi pulled over. He pulled Phil into the back after telling the cabby their address, feeling muddled, not understanding exactly what was wrong.

They were only a minute or so into the drive before Phil began to sob openly.

"Phil, what's wrong?" Dan asked gently, and Phil could barely get breath enough to speak.

"You... you don't..." Phil gasped and shuddered. "I'm so lousy," he said, just as he had earlier in the bathroom. "I'm so lousy. So lousy."

Dan sighed and pulled his flatmate the short distance required so that Phil reclined against his shoulder. He hoped the cabby didn't think too much of this.

"No, you're not lousy, Phil," Dan murmured against the crying. "Who told you that? What made you think that?"

It took Phil a while to reply, his chest heaving against Dan's side. "You... you didn't... for years, and now... then... you were drunk..." Crying. Dan squeezed his eyes shut. This was definitely his fault. "And then, I thought you wanted, so I... I tried, but you ran into the bathroom..."

"Shh. Shh." Dan put his arms around Phil, pulling him into his chest instead of on his shoulder. "Calm down. Come on. You know I care about you."

"No," Phil choked out. "You don't... not like..." He paused and seemed to censor himself, coming back to his original thought, though Dan knew what he was trying to say well enough. "I'm so lousy..."

"You're not lousy, stop it." Dan didn't know what else to say. This was pretty much a confession to the fact that Phil had wanted something to happen between them all along. He thought back to the whole last week, when Phil must have been so tortured trying to pretend for Dan, the inexperienced one, that nothing of consequence had happened. To years and years of dodging around each other, making fun of people who thought they'd be a good couple, acting like there was no interest and there never would be. And now...

But now wasn't the time. "We'll talk about this in the morning, okay. When you're all right again."

"I'm not alright," Phil whimpered into Dan's chest. "Lousy, 'm lousy. Lousy friend, lousy... lousy..." He was trailing off, and Dan knew it would be easy to subdue him in this state.

"Shh, no you're not. You're a tired friend. Go to sleep," Dan tried.

"Sleepy friend," Phil said deliriously, snuggling down deeper into Dan's warmth.

"Yep. Sleepy friend."

"Mmm hmm," Phil murmured. It was still quite a few minutes before he calmed down completely , but by the end of the car ride, his breaths had become shallower, the sobbing banished. He slept.

Dan welcomed the warmth of his flatmate against him, letting his fingers absently play with the black hair, still feeling it was wrong to have to see him like this, to have to comfort him this way. But this moment, this precious moment with him, was one he wasn't about to spoil.

Because he wasn't telling Phil about this in the morning. No, he wasn't.

He'd help him though his hangover, make him breakfast, ask if he wanted to watch another anime, try to be normal again.

And someday things would be normal, Dan decided. They'd be all back to how they were before. Tomorrow, this would all be a dream, and he would start to build up his relationship with his flatmate again.

But deep down he couldn't help wondering if pursuing something more wasn't worth the risk.