Alive (Phan)

THIRTEEN

When I woke up the next morning there was sunlight streaming in through the window, illuminating the entire room. I rubbed my eyes and smiled, realizing that Phil's arms were still around me.

"Good morning, sleepy head," he gingerly ruffled my hair, placing a book on the bed next to him.

"Morning," I yawned, "How long have you been up?"

"About an hour."

"You could've woken me," I said with a little frown.

"It's fine," he shrugged, "You're cute when you sleep and I could do with some reading anyway."

"What were you reading?" I inquired.

"Oh, um, it's nothing," he blushed, trying to hide the book behind him.

"Phil!" I chuckled, "Show me, what—" I grabbed at his arm, but he pulled away. We wrestled playfully for a minute before he crawled on top of me and touched his nose to mine. I could tell he was trying to be convincing, but he was laughing uncontrollably as he said, "It doesn't matter what I'm reading!"

"Then why can't you show me?" I teased, throwing him off of me and dashing for the pillow he had hidden the book under.

"No, Dan, wait, it's just—"

"Twilight?" I fell over in fits of laughter dropping the book to the floor.

"It isn't that funny," he blushed, picking up the book and throwing it at me, lightheartedly.

"Yes it is," I managed to get out through my hooting and heaving, "Are you—are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

"Ha ha," he said dryly, but then added, sheepishly, "Edward."

"Awe, Phil," I said, regaining my composure a little, "You're such a cliché!" I giggled some more, but this time, Phil joined in.

"I swear, I'm going to throw you out the window, Dan Howell."

"Oh, please don't!" I pleaded, "You know I love you!"

"Right," he stuck out his tongue.

"I'm laughing with you," I insisted, poking him in the ribs.

"Would you like to shower with me as well?" he smirked, crossing to the dresser. I blushed furiously. "I'm just kidding," he assured me, "you can use the one up here, I'll go downstairs. Here," he tossed me a dark purple shirt with a gengar on it, "Is that close enough to black for you?"

"It'll suffice," I sighed.

"You can just keep these," he handed me a pair of black boxers, "I never wear them."

"Thanks," I smiled.

I tried not to spend too long in Phil's shower, although the steaming hot water on my sensitive neck and chest did make it rather tempting to stay in all day. After far too short a time, I reluctantly climbed out of the shower. I dried off and pulled on the underwear Phil had given me before retreating back into the bedroom where Phil was perched waiting for me on the bed.

"You're a slowpoke," he said.

"Maybe you're just The Flash," I retorted, wiggling into my jeans.

"Impossible," he said, matter-of-factly, "I can't be The Flash because I'm Thor," he flexed his arm, making me giggle.

"Impressive," I squeezed his bicep with a nod of approval, "Very believable. But where's your long, blonde hair, then?"

"Dyed and cut, I'm afraid," he shook his head, "Sometimes you have to sacrifice fashion in order to blend in to society."