palpitations (phan)

seventeen

Regardless of how unlikely and even impossible it may seem, in another two years, Dan and Phil had somehow managed to grow even closer together.

Both being seventeen now, they'd each matured phenomenally both mentally and physically in the time between the summer before their eleventh year and the summer after their twelfth. Their voices had deepened, their postures had perhaps worsened, and their likes and attractions had refined quite a bit.

In the middle of the previous school year, Dan had sat his friend down on his bed and come out to him as bisexual, which Phil took as well as he probably could have.

"Phil . . . I'm bisexual," Dan had spoken, the last two words coming out far quicker than the first.

Phil had stared at him in surprise for a moment before blinking a few times and pushing himself back into reality. Wow, he'd thought. He was sure Dan was just going to confess to stealing his Undertale shirt or something. But okay, this was fine too.

"So, wait– so you like both girls and boys?" He'd asked, hoping it hadn't come out too rude.

Dan had shrugged, now avoiding eye contact with Phil.

"Well, I think I prefer boys over girls, but yeah. Basically."

Phil'd smiled softly, placing a warm and comforting hand on Dan's shoulder and asking Dan to look at him. "That's okay," he spoke. He'd thought a short moment, internally attempting to decide how to word the next part before proceeding. "I'm really glad you decided to trust me with this, Dan. And I hope you know that it really doesn't change the way I see you, at all."

It had seemed to be an adequate answer, because before he could blink he was being engulfed in a giant hug, wrapping his arms around Dan and squeezing tightly.

Now that it was once again summer and there were no deadlines or wake-up times, the two boys were back to their usual shenanigans of staying at each other's houses every night, which usually meant making dinner for whoever's family they were staying with.

Tonight, that meant Jenny. In an entire twenty eight months, Dan's father hadn't so much as sent a text to either him nor his mother, leaving them to believe in the near certainty that he never would try to contact them. Jenny was by no means a weak woman, nor did she need the presence of a man in her life in order to feel complete, but that didn't mean she ever refused when her son and his friend decided to make her meals and do her laundry. She appreciated it, really.

Phil was currently leaned against the kitchen counter beside the stove, watching lazily as Dan flipped pancakes with some old spatula they'd found.

It was a Sunday; pancake dinners were a necessity in Jenny's books.

"Can you pass me the batter?" Asked Dan as he placed the two pancakes he'd previously been flipping onto a plate on the counter beside the burning element.

Phil nodded. "Here ya go," he mumbled as he slid the bowl over.

Looking down into the glass bowl, the aforementioned frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at the remaining batter with confusion in his brown eyes.

"Phil?" He asked. Phil hummed in affirmation. "Have you been eating the raw batter?"

Phil looked to the side, deliberately avoiding eye contact and moving slowly to hide his batter covered spoon behind him. "No."

Jenny laughed from behind them at the dining room table, audibly flipping the page of her magazine.

"Phil! You're going to get sick or something!" Dan exclaimed. He poked Phil in the stomach with the end of the spatula and gave him over exaggeratedly wide eyes for pointless emphasis. Pointless, because Phil wasn't gonna stop licking the spoon when Dan wasn't looking.