He was far too drunk, Phil decided as he warily eyed his best friend (who was face-down on the floor, mumble-humming the words to Britney Spears' Toxic and managing to sound disturbingly sexy). Dan blinked sluggishly back up at Phil and protested, "'M'not drunk, Phil." Oh, Phil realized belatedly, he was talking to himself out loud and he really should stop before he said something ridiculously stupid. Perhaps he was a little buzzed himself, although he was fairly certain that Dan had done most of the drinking. He probably should find some aspirin now before it was morning (actually, it was morning already, his laptop was telling him) and they were both pathetically dying from hangover-ness (was that a word? probably not. it should be. yeah, he was a bit drunk too and) -

Oh. Okay. When had Dan levitated himself onto the couch? Phil probably should have noticed the slight dip from Dan's weight, but his coordination was a bit off and he hadn't noticed and now Dan was crawling into Phil's lap, a predatory gleam in his suddenly very-close eyes. Which were very chocolately and coffee-ish and delicious and gorgeous and whoa, Dan had just pushed his laptop to the floor (ouch, that didn't sound good but he couldn't bring himself to bother looking at it now because Dan's eyes, they were so.)

And Phil was a little nervous and unsure and fidgety now because Dan was leaning over him, a smirk playing over his lips (and those lips were perfect and pouty and soft, but how did Phil know they were soft again?) Ah, Phil realized dazedly, it was because they were suddenly on his own, delicious gentle pressure. Playful tug on his bottom lip and silent gasp and Dan slipping into his mouth, hands curling into his hair and this was perfect-wonderful-blissful-yes but Wait! screamed the rational part of Phil's brain and he warded off Dan with an arm, reluctantly pushing the other boy away (and fighting the urge to pull him closer-closer-now). Because this wasn't right, he wasn't that drunk, he couldn't take advantage of Dan's inebriated state to exploit his little best-friend crush. Dan was scowling (unused, no doubt, to his partners rejecting his advances) and reaching for Phil again. Dan, who just wanted touch and taste - and Phil, who wanted that but something else too that Dan could never give him.

Dan was definitely drunk, because he grabbed at Phil's shoulders and missed entirely and toppled forwards, the two of them hitting the sofa with a muffled thunk (and ouch, Dan's elbow jabbed Phil sharply in the ribs). Dan, straddling Phil (heat coiling low and tight in stomach), apparently decided this was fine too, because he beamed and sloppily pinned Phil's hands down with his own (heavy and Phil squirmed for a moment but couldn't get up and crap, crap this was hot).

"Wait," he managed weakly. "Dan, please, wait a second" because Dan was leaning in again (those deliciously reddened lips) but paused, one eyebrow arched in expectant irritation. "I can't," Phil continued, braver. "We can't, Dan."

"N' why not?" Dan snapped, "'t'll be fine, just need to, doesn't mean 'n'thing" and icy-sharp spears in Phil's chest, exactly why they couldn't, because Dan would pass out, wake up and pretend nothing happened because to him, it would be true, but Phil would lie awake and regret and his chest would break-shatter-scream-agony, so "No," he replied firmly. "I don't want this, Dan" and perhaps this wasn't the best thing to say (but what could he do, tell Dan that he loved him like a freaking love song) because Dan's face twisted and his hands tightened on Phil's wrists and he kissed Phil hard enough to bruise and growled "Don't want this, d'you."

Dan lifted himself off Phil for a moment (arms tight and straining) and his eyes flitted down between Phil's legs. And Dan flashed him a wicked, wicked smile because "Really," he drawled into Phil's ear (hot sparks and boneless sigh and blush creeping up), "Wasn't entirely sure, had to check, but 'ey. Y'do want this, huh" and very slowly, deliberately slid one hand down from Phil's now-relaxed wrist to cup him through his jeans and "Fuck," Phil breathed, and blushed, free hand coming up to cover his mouth. "That's the idea," Dan informed as he groped around for a nearby tassel, tugging Phil's hand back up (no-no-no this was a bad idea he would regret it later for sure) and whoa, sudden pressure around his wrists had Dan just, he had just tied his wrists.

"Better," Dan purred, and oh, (breath hitching uncontrollably), god, Phil was so screwed.