"Do you even realise how difficult it is to make pancakes properly?" Dan asks suddenly, Phil’s body curled up against his, an arm draped over his chest, eyes fixated onto the ceiling.
"What?" Phil laughs, sitting up a bit to watch Dan a smile playing across his lips. His eyes traced over the edge of Dan’s jaw, the little red patch on his skin right beside his chin, the tip of his nose and the corners of his eyes and ends of his eyebrows and fringe, memorising his physical existence as he Dan opened his mouth to speak but didn’t say anything for a moment.
"Think about it," Dan begins as Phil attaches his lips to the underside of Dan’s jaw. "You have to measure everything correctly, otherwise it’s going to taste like shit no matter how perfectly you cook them or whatever."
"Mmmhmm," Phil replies, leaving more open mouthed kisses along the side of Dan’s face where his fringe presses down. He brushed some of it out of the way so his lips could reach more of Dan’s skin, propping himself up on his elbow. Dan seemed completely oblivious to Phil’s actions, still watching the ceiling as if it was telling him what to say.
"Like if you put too much salt in you’re going to have really disgusting pancakes, that’s just a fact, and it’s hard to get 'just a pinch' of salt, because really what is ‘just a pinch,’ recipes really need to be more specific, you know?”
"Yeah of course," he smirks a bit, moving his mouth towards Dan’s ear. He nibbles a little around Dan’s earring, noticing Dan’s hands folded neatly on top of his chest tighten a little as his warm breath hits Dan’s neck.
"And then there’s the actual mixing of all the ingredients, which is the stupidest process in the history of existence. I mean really, if you’re going to make pancakes why the fuck do you need to separate your dry and wet ingredients, they’re all just going to end up in the same bowl eventually, right?”
"Of course, of course," Phil encourages him on, a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he brings his mouth to Dan’s neck, kissing lightly across it, trying to see how far he could push him. He stuck his tongue out a bit as he continued pressing his lips to his boyfriend’s neck, lifting one of his hands to brush against Dan’s hip.
Dan moans a little as Phil bit down on his skin, not hard enough to leave any kind of mark but surely hard enough for him to feel it, unclasping his hands to wrap his fingers around Phil’s arm, moving his thumb in slow circles against Phil’s skin.
"And then making the pancakes, the entire process of pouring the batter and waiting to know when they’re cooked enough to flip over and the actual flipping them over is all really unnecessarily difficult and—"
He moans loudly, cutting himself off as Phil bit into his neck again, dragging his teeth down and stopping at his collarbones, starting to lick along the protrusions and abruptly stopping at the sound coming out of Dan’s mouth.
"Took you long enough," he mutters, rolling on top of Dan’s body pressing his lips to Dan’s so he’ll finally stop rambling about pancakes.
"Were you listening," Dan starts, cut off by Phil’s mouth on his again, "to anything I said?"
Between nearly each word Phil kissed him, giggling a little against his lips and lifting his arms to twist around Phil’s neck.
"Well," Phil murmurs quietly, kissing Dan again. "I learnt that you really hate the process of making pancakes." He leans down again as Dan smiles a bit at Phil’s amused tone to kiss him again. "and that your rambling is extremely endearing."
"Shut up," he laughs as Phil kisses along his cheeks and the side of his nose. "I don’t see what’s endearing about me hating how pancakes are made—"
"It wasn’t so much that as the fact it was you," Phil explains softly, hovering above Dan. "And now you’re all flustered and blushing, aww is someone uncomfortable with affection?"
"Clearly," Dan half scoffs between Phil’s short kisses against his lips. "I just really hate that there isn’t a clear way to tell when you need to flip a pancake ove—"
Phil kisses him suddenly, and Dan lets out a little squeak at the sudden movement but quickly melts into it, twisting his fingers into Phil’s hair and kissing him back.
"You’re my favourite person," Phil says softly, licking along the underside of Dan’s lip, tilting his head a bit to bring them even closer.
"You’re mine," Dan replies simply, twisting one of his legs over top Phil’s and smiling a little against Phil’s lips, because no one had ever really cared enough to listen to him ramble about fucking pancakes before
