WARNING: THERE IS SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT SMUT
PJ's hair tickles against Phil's cheek and sticks to the tears and he's not sure when the hug started or even when he even moved towards him. But he's in PJ's arms, bawling his eyes out for the first time since this whole fucking thing. Dan lunges at them and then he feels the familiar long arms of Chris on top of him and he's complete.
The foursome are a four again.
They pull apart and Dan laces his fingers with Phil's. Chris and PJ just smile and nod at them, as if it's not that big of a deal that they're kinda dating now. Which in the grand scheme of it, it really isn't.
Daize bustles between them all, offers hot drinks to everyone ("we'll break the tea ration for once, it's a beautiful day, girls and boys, a beautiful day!") and bustles off into the kitchen, shortly followed by Taro (no one is allowed to be alone around the house, just in case).
"So…" Dan starts, "are we gonna get an explanation?"
Chris is pulling off his hoodie and PJ is cringing at the smell coming from his pits, but nevertheless they sit down cautiously on the carpet, pulling Dan and Phil down with them. "Well," PJ begins in his best story telling extraordinaire voice which even Chris rolls his eyes at, "we were up in Edinburgh for some filming, Big city, right? Lots of people, or namely, infected. So when me and Chris first heard of it we ran, basically. We stole some bikes and cycled out. We got to the border before we managed to steal a car."
"So by this point, we're without transport, haven't slept in twenty four hours and starving. We got ambushed en-route to you in Manchester and got rescued. I think it worked out really well, don't you?"
Dan hums, crossing his arms across his chest while Phil nods appreciatively. "Yeah, I'd say so, PJ, I'd say so."
Their triumphant laughter fills the room.
Chris and PJ curl together on the sofa, mugs clutched in their grimy fingers and both chewing appreciatively on the tinned sausages Daize gave to them. Chris is reliving his experience with a zomb, hands gesticulating wildly around his head, PJ rolling his eyes. Podge is fiddling with some wires, pressing them together to produce sparks and then scratching his head, almost comically. Ammie stares at him (almost) subtly, but Phil is sure he can see cartoon love-hearts blossoming in her eyes. Kinda like what he supposes he looks like when he looks at Dan.
When Chris is done, Dan lifts his head from where it is rested on Phil's chest and quirks it at Ammie. "Y'know, Ammie really suits you."
"Yeah, I did actually," she responds, face splitting into a grin that's far too wide, "it is my fucking name."
Dan laughs, rolling his eyes and Chris just stares on, wide eyed. "I like her." He says after a moment and Ammie's resulting smile is blinding.
As the evening progresses, everyone slowly migrates into the living room. Ammie smiles at everyone as they enter, until the arrival of Dave, who she stares at with a cool glare. Dave just smiles curtly, sitting far too close to Podge and hitching her bra up to near her chin. Ammie's eyes narrow into slits, Dan laughs. Ammie doesn't.
Dave seems alright, Dan thinks, but Ammie's a teenager and, damn he remembers those times. So, really, he doesn't blame Ammie for hating her, because, well. She is a threat.
Later, when it is well past midnight, Phil curls into Dan in the bath. Ammie is somewhere downstairs and Chris and PJ have long since passed out on the sofa, leaving them alone barr each other. They kiss lazily, lips gliding together evenly, low moans trapped in their throats.
"Did I ever tell you how in love with you I am?" Dan whispers against Phil's lips, warm breath tickling his nose, hazel eyes darting nervously between Phil's own.
Phil laughs, shakes his head. "Not as soon as you should have." He pauses, kisses Dan again. "I love you, though, you idiot," he adds as an afterthought.
There's a light in his eyes, burning, smouldering heat from icy pupils and, jesus, Dan can feel every inch of Phil's body against his own, can feel the heat radiating from him in waves. He wants to lean forward and attach their lips, but he's suspended in their perfect moment, too fixated on the perfect cerulean irises so close to his own, obsessed with the soft gasps of breath through Phil's swollen lips, transfixed by the slow thrumming of Phil's pulse, the soft bobbing of his adam's apple.
Phil leans in tangling them into a kiss, a tangling of tongues, clashing of teeth, tainted by pure want, stained with lust, each second growing more frantic. Dan tugs at Phil's shirt, pulling, breaks the kiss and drags it over his head, not waiting before tracing lines of kisses down his neck, his collar bones. Phil moans lightly above him, slowly unbuttoning Dan's shirt, fumbling carefully with each button, exposing tan skin inch by beautiful inch.
There is silence for a long, painful moment, where they stare, eyes tracing down planes of chest and sinew and muscle, down the rise of fall of breast and smooth stomachs. They clash; ivory against tan, pure, untainted white against smooth caramel, blue and brown. Want curls in a harsh coil in Dan's stomach, tight, tighter, until he can barely breathe, but Phil is his oxygen.
Phil's hands trail lower and lower, buttons popping, zips sliding, lips tight in an earth-shifting kiss.
Their bodies tangle into one, breath peaking into harsh gasps, bathroom becoming a cacophony of moans and soft sighs. Phil is hot and tight around him, his lips burning against his own, hot, hot, hotter.
His thrusts are uneven, sloppy, Phil doesn't care. Dan's hand is around him, moving in quick strokes, timed roughly with his thrusts. His breath is catching, Dan's groans vibrating in his mouth, his own whines shaking from his throat, off the walls.
His climax is looming, clouding his vision with white, curling his toes. Dan is shuddering into him, biting into his neck, moaning into his collar-bone. Phil feels his release and falls over the precipice, coming hard, noisily, halfway between a moan and a shriek.
The fall is slow, breath returning to their bodies, feeling returning to their toes. Dan pulls out slowly, still sensitive. His breathing is still shallow as he curls around Phil, burrowing his head into Phil's neck where an impressive hickey is forming.
Their breathing slows to a snore, eyelids falling asleep, "I love you" on their lips and their hearts pressed against one another, slow pounding in perfect time.
oh jesus was it okay? if you can't tell already that was my first smut ever oh lord. sorry for how painfully short this is, but I needed to get something out to you before christmas. there is still stuff to come, I HAVE IDEAS hell yea.