fun ; phan

thirty three

After a bite to eat for lunch and a few glasses of water, we're feeling slightly better, lazing on the sofa. My arm is around his shoulder, the small boy nestling up to my side, watching the newly released season o  Stranger Things. (I'M A HOE FOR STRANGER THINGS OK)

"So, are we just gonna be watching this all day? That's, like, nine hours." He asks with a giggle, and I nod my head, rubbing the side of his arm, sending an obvious shiver throughout him. 

"You cold?" I ask, and he hesitantly nods his head, wrapping his arms around his stomach. We're both still shirtless, so it makes sense. Only now have I realised how self-conscious he's acting, always using his arms to cover something.

"Are you sure you were fine with sleeping shirtless? You really didn't have to, I-" I start to say, wanting him to feel as comfortable as possible.

"No, no, yeah- I mean, I was fine with it- I-I am fine with it, but you keep looking at me and I feel like you think something's wrong with how I look or something."

"No! No way! You're just really pretty, and I guess I can't really keep my eyes off you." I say with a small laugh, looking down at my feet.

"O-Oh, really? I thought you'd think I'm scrawny and weird cause you're tall and strong and I'm- I'm really not."

"You're cute, Danny," I say, stepping closer to him, and, as carefully as possible, pulling him up over my shoulder with ease, to which he lets out a scream.

"Phil!" He shouts, giggling. "What the fuck?!" 

"Just being affectionate!" I say, dancing my fingers along his hip, instantly causing goosebumps to appear on the skin.

"Th-That tickles!" He sputters out, still laughing. 

I carry him up the stairs, and after putting him down, which he was particularly glad about, catch his eyes lingering across me for definitely not the first time.

"What?"

"You look pretty." He says. "Pretty good, I mean, uh, I-" He adds, and I chuckle. 

"So, do you wanna wear what you wore yesterday, which I'm pretty sure is covered in alcohol, or attempt to pull off some of my clothes?" I ask.

"Uh, well, being that my clothes are literally damp and stink of vodka, I'll go with yours."

I grab the smallest pair of jeans I can find, that absolutely don't fit me, and pass them to him, along with a black t-shirt, as that seems to be what he's into, and then fishing my varsity jacket off the floor and throw it at him. For myself, it's blue jeans, white t-shirt, and a green hoodie, as I'm a little more colourful.

We get changed, and it'd be a lie if I said I didn't catch myself with my eyes on him at least twice throughout that time, and then go back into the living room downstairs.

"So," I begin. "Shall we watch the rest of the season?"

"Fuck yeah!"