I'm not sure what inspired this. I wrote this around New Year's for tumblr, and have been contemplating adding a part two ever since... eventually just decided to leave it as a stand-alone oneshot.

Anyways, if you think it needs a part two, let me know.

My tumblr is superlocktorwho.

Pairing: Potential Phil/Dan, Phan friendship

~told from Phil's point of view~

cherries.

About five drinks too many and Dan is sickeningly dizzy, leaning all over me on the walk home. His dark eyes blink unfocused at streetlights and his face sports a tipsy smile. One arm is looped around my shoulders, holding him upright. People are staring as we walk, but the only people out at two AM on New Year's are just as drunk as us, and they just laugh. Dan is barely conscious and heavy. I pray for an open taxi.

When one finally appears I'm relieved. Dan passes out immediately after I muscle him into the cab, his shirt catching and tearing on the side door, and I breathe a long sigh. I have to close my eyes as we drive because the world outside the window is spinning color and it's uncomfortable.

Even more so is the proximity to Dan. I don't want to be so close to him, I want to be home with a wall between us where I can really sort out my thoughts and where he can come to. It hurts to know he probably won't remember anything that happened tonight. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about the dull chest ache that's forming at its very thought. Funny that Dan is the only one I would want to ask at a time such as this. Not so funny how he's the only one who I can't talk to.

My mouth tastes like maraschino cherries. I bite my tongue, biting back with it the thoughts that correspond. Opening my eyes once more I steal a glance at unconscious Dan and ponder what to do if he wakes up without memory of what just happened between us. Unsure if I should tell him if he does. With an unhappy sigh I lie against the door and try to shut off my brain, to no avail.

When the cab pulls up to the house I barely manage to get Dan in the door. I know I will not be so lucky on the stairs. So tomorrow Dan will wake on the couch. He will not know what passed tonight. He won't remember me. It is with sadness that I turn off the lights and retreat to my own bed. Alone I can still feel his lips. I can still smell the cherries.

Sobriety edges its way painfully back, the headache growing increasingly worse as I can't get to sleep.

The warm bakery smell filling the house when I wake up says that Dan is microwaving something. The fact that all the shutters are drawn and nearly all the lights are off when I return downstairs says that Dan is hungover. I try my best not to make noise.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty." Dan says, voice weary, upon finally noticing me. His eyes are bloodshot and I can finally see clearly that he looks like hell. But he smiles when I enter the room, so I smile back and decide not to mention the rip in his shirt that lets me see the entire left side of his ribcage. "What do you want on your toaster waffles?"

"Dunno. Do we have whipped cream?" I ask hopefully, leaning against the counter.

"I think so." He turns to look, wincing as the refrigerator light comes on. "Yeah. Here." he mutters, and passes the can to me. I watch him as he rifles through the fridge, keeping his eyes nearly closed, dark eyelashes feathered over the narrow breach. He comes up with something, a bottle of chocolate sauce and a jar of something I don't recognize immediately.

It is maraschino cherries. Dan unscrews the cap, and the sweet chemical smell fills the kitchen. I begin to feel faint in an instant. Faint, and vaguely intoxicated by the flood of memories associated. I smile, looking over at Dan for any hint of recognition. There is none.

That Dan could just forget the best and worst experience of my life physically hurts, and there's a little pang in my chest just above my stomach. He notices, of course. He always does. "What are you so depressed about?" Dan asks, not looking at me.

"Uh huh." My mind is elsewhere.

"Are you mad at me?" I shake my head sharply, grabbing the jar of cherries, rolling it in my hands. I uncap it gingerly, fish one out and let it sit on my tongue. The cold chemical sweetness brings tears to my eyes. He doesn't see.

"Did something happen last night?" he asks me, and my mind slips backwards.

It's dark. Dan is giggling next to me, little bursts of laughter rocking his entire body. I feel high on the sick-sweet stench of cherries and alcohol coming from whatever the hell Dan is drinking, and the few shots I've taken are beginning to get to my vision. Everything I see seems a few steps behind pace.

Dan leans forward, listening to a friend's story, then throws his head back, laughs. Falls dizzy onto my arm. A little bit of the strong scented alcohol splashes onto my wrist, and I lick it discreetly off.

"Sorry." Dan mumbles, the syllables blurring together. Friends are laughing far too hard, and I smile out of the corner of my mouth, pushing him back over to his side of the sofa.

A song comes on the radio. Dan's eyes go wide, and in a instant he's on his feet and nearly trips over the coffee table as he goes to grab for me, tugging me forwards. "I love this song!" Drunk or not, he is a terrible dancer and the friends howl as he flails about. Soon we've all joined him on the floor, his infectious enthusiasm rousing us all.

Someone has put in a mix CD. The next song is too slow. The friends return to their seats and I make to follow when he grabs my wrist. "Staykeepdancing." Dan slurs, throwing a hand loosely around my neck, pulling me into him until our chests are warm together and I can almost feel Dan's heart racing. We are whisked into a slow dance which becomes a trance. I can hear the friends speculating but I cannot see them. I can see the way Dan's hair curls at the nape of his neck and I can see a faint patch of stubble he missed on his jaw and I can see the smooth satin of his skin, but I cannot see the rest of the room. It is as if me and Dan have been alone the whole time.

He begins to hum an unmelodious tune, and we stay like that for a long time, locked into a tight embrace and swaying with no rhyme or reason. The air we share is warm and smells like cherries. The song has since changed. The stereo now plays upbeat dubstep, and others have joined us dancing. Dan pulls away, his lips curved in an intoxicated grin, and I look away, shy, self-conscious. Someone across the room shouts "kiss him!" at me, and I smile shyly, shake my head.

Dan, on the other hand, reaches out and takes gentle hold of my shoulder. I freeze. He moves closer, whispers "shh".

Before I can react his lips are on mine and my eyes are wide and searching for something to hold on to but my surprise leaves me next to blind. I can see Dan's eyes are closed. My heart pounds along with the frantic downbeats in the song.

And I let myself go, casting Phil to the wayside and becoming part of Dan. My eyes snap shut and I lean into him, my lips pulling his open and we remain as one. I can feel the warmth of his hands on my back, fingers gripping my shoulder blades. I can taste his breath, warm and cherry red.

I don't know how long we kissed. But Dan is panting when we finally break apart. I have forgotten how to breathe, my lungs have no use for air when Dan is near. He smiles, the grin loose and lopsided. "Jesus Christ." he breathes, staring into my eyes with a faint laugh. Behind me, someone cheers.

I look back at the Dan I see now and my heart wants to tell him but my mind doesn't.

"Nothing eventful. You could barely stand by the end of it, anyways." is all I say, leaving out the kiss, the dancing, the cherries on his tongue, everything I want him to remember and everything I wish I could forget.

He nods with a little hum of apathy, sliding a small white plate of waffles across the counter towards me, and then returns to his, slathering chocolate sloppily on his plate like there's no tomorrow. Slides the sauce over to me.

My chest feels heavy. Dan watches as I absently draw a chocolate heart on my Eggo and slice it violently in two with the edge of my fork. He doesn't say anything.