Sunshine filled the room the way chocolate sauce pours over hot fudge cake: slowly and indulgently; slipping through cracks and down the sides before melting into the pores with a deliciously warm lethargy. As the rays of light finally bypassed the curtains and fell across my pillow, I opened my eyes. Phil's dark hair tickled my nose, his warm breath on my cheek. I smiled.

His lashes were thick and dark, fanning out in a perfect arc beneath the crescents of his closed eyes and fluttering ever so slightly as he breathed. One eye was half hidden where his face squished into the pillow and I reached forwards to brush his cheek with a fingertip. As I did, he stirred a little and shifted his head – red indents from the creased fabric of the pillow pressed into his face creating an imprint on the newly exposed skin. I traced the soft lines. I wanted to kiss him but my mouth tasted like corpses so instead I kissed his lashes and hauled myself upright, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and yawning.

PJ and Chris slumbered in the bed opposite. With a little engineering we'd managed to push two beds together allowing the couples to sleep together without losing a limb, but this meant that Chris's bed almost completely blocked the bathroom door. I frowned. Carefully, I levered myself out of bed without pulling the covers off Phil and padded barefoot across the small stretch of carpet. Chris had told us just to push him out of the way when we needed to pee but in practice that was easier said than done without feeling awful. Instead, I decided to try and manoeuvre myself over the bed in a series of death defying leaps and twists so as not to wake him.

Three seconds and a muffled yelp later I lay sprawled across Chris's naked body in my underwear clutching a sprained wrist. Some dancer I was.

"Is there something you two have been hiding from us?" PJ said from beside me, bleary eyed but laughing as he propped himself up on an elbow with an amused grin.

"I don't believe it," Phil said as he sat up with a yawn, clutching his knees to his chest and looking over at us. "I think Chris is still asleep."

A snore confirmed it and I shook my head in bewilderment as I untangled myself from the sheets and scrawny limbs and finally made it to the bathroom door.

"He truly is an incredible creature," I wondered, cradling my aching wrist. "Sorry about that."

"I thought you were being murdered." Phil chuckled as he rubbed his eyes and squinted at the clock. "I can't see, what time is it?"

"6:30. Sorry." My wrist twinged again. "I don't suppose you keep any ice in here?"

*

I emerged from the bathroom and walked straight into Phil, his face pressed almost to the door. I jumped, nearly losing my towel.

"Jesus Christ." I gasped. "Do you want something?"

"Sorry, there's not much space here thanks to Chris's bed. Will you come meet my parents?"

I blanched.

"Well yeah, I mean of course I.." A thought suddenly occurred to me and my blood ran cold. "They do know about... you know, don't they?" I asked apprehensively.

"Nope." Phil said cheerfully. "And it's your job, as my boyfriend, to be by my side when I have to tell them."

"Right." I said resignedly. "So when is this happening? I'm going to need at least three years to prepare."

"Today." Phil grinned.

"Oh."

"Good luck mate." Chris grinned. "You'll be fine. Oh and did Phil mention that his Dad's a raging homophobic who keeps a gun and a pair of samurai swords in his bedroom? See you later!"

*

My hand was clammy as Phil took it reassuringly between his own.

"Calm down. It'll be fine, my parents are nice. They'll take it well I promise – they're artists. And Chris was lying about the gun."

"But not the samurai swords?!" I said, my voice rising up a notch.

"Um, well... oh no not like that! They're just for decoration. My dad only gets them down when he's really drunk don't worry, I doubt he'd know which end to stick you with."

"Oh great." I muttered. "That's really put my mind at ease. Thanks so much."

Phil grinned as he rubbed my back.

"You ready?" He asked.

I craned my neck to catch another glimpse of the red brick house from where we were hiding behind a leafy bush. It was smaller than I'd expected given that they'd sent their son to Bradfield, but Phil told me there was a sprawling art studio and small river in the back garden and that they spent most of their time outside wandering the woodland anyway.

"I guess."

Phil grasped my hand firmly and frogmarched me with a determined grin up the front path. Even the doorbell was artsy, some complicated system of wind chimes.

I could see a figure moving down the hall towards us through the frosted glass and I swallowed. Phil gave my hand a squeeze and the door swung open to reveal a tall lady with warm eyes and light hair.

"Phil pet, we weren't expecting you! You should have called ahead and I would have made a casserole or something, who's your friend?" She beamed.

"Mum, this is my boyfriend, Dan."

Huh. Straight to the point.

"Oh," She blinked, "Well that's lovely why didn't you tell me? I would have made a cake!"

A wave of relief washed over me. She'd clearly taken it in her stride, barely a double take. As I smiled she ushered me inside and I finally returned Phil's squeeze.

"Why don't you get Dan a tea and show him into the sitting room? I'm er, just going have a word with your father."

"Well that went better than expected." Phil grinned as he led me through into his kitchen.

"She's telling your Dad right now and apparently he's got Samurai swords, I wouldn't say that just yet." I muttered.

Phil just grinned at me and scooped an arm around my waist, pulling me into a kiss.

"Oi!" I spluttered, pushing him away. "Not in your parents' house, you've only just come out for Christ's sake. While they may be coping with the principle I doubt they're quite ready for a demonstration just yet."

Phil rolled his eyes. "They're going to have to get used to it eventually, might as well get a head start."

"Are you planning extended makeout sessions in front of your parents then?" I raised my eyebrows.

"No," Phil grinned, "but our wedding will be pretty public."

"Oh shut up." I laughed.

"Did I hear 'wedding'?" A gruff voice with a thick northern accent came from the doorway.

I spun round, face flushed.

"Hey, Dad." Phil grinned.

A tall, sturdy man with a mop of dark hair and sparkling blue eyes stood in the doorway frowning down at us.

"I don't think that shit's even legal yet. You boys are far too young to even be considering..." He grumbled.

"I was only joking, silly," Phil chuckled, stepping forwards to give his Dad a quick hug. "This is Dan."

I smiled weakly, giving a little wave then realising how stupid it looked and pinning my hand to my side.

"Hmm."

My blush deepened and I stared down at my shoes.

"Well Philip I can't say I was expecting this but he looks clean enough." And with that Phil's Dad walked out of the kitchen and Phil started sniggering.

"Shut up." I mumbled.

Phil sniggered as he wrapped his arms around my waist again. "I think he likes you." He whispered, nuzzling his face into my neck.

I sighed and looped my arms over his back to return the hug. "You never know. He might be on his way upstairs to get the samurai swords."

"Oh Philip, you didn't tell Dan about the swords did you? What must he think!"

We snapped apart, the red rising once again in my cheeks.

Phil's mum smiled. "Oh don't mind me. I just wish Phil wouldn't tell people about those before they've even walked in the door! You must think we're barking."

I shook my head and tried to adopt my most winning smile. "It was Chris that told me actually," I grinned. "It's so lovely to meet you, Miss, your house is really lovely!"

I could practically feel Phil roll his eyes by my side but his mum beamed.

"Oh, bless you darling. It's a bit of a mess actually as I wasn't expecting guests, and we've got granny and grandpa coming round later too I'd completely forgotten! I'm afraid I'm going to need the kitchen to rustle something up for them, Phil why don't you take Dan up to your room?"

Phil pulled me by the hand and I flashed one last charming smile for good measure, escaping to the quiet of the hall and letting out my breath in a huff of relief. The house seemed bigger somehow on the inside. I guessed it went further back than I'd been able to see from the street. There were several doors on the first floor but it was easiest to spot which one was Phil's: it was completely covered in posters and stickers and 'keep out' signs that were about as intimidating as a kitten in a tutu. I grinned.

"Yeah, um, my room's kind of embarrassing." Phil muttered as he pushed open the door somewhat reluctantly.

I let out a low whistle.

The walls were green with a blue trim but they were almost completely obscured by hundreds of posters stretching from wall to ceil- shit. The posters covered the entire ceiling as well. It must have taken him ages. I knew if it had been me I would have killed myself multiple times falling off whatever chair he used to reach the roof. Around the walls were a myriad of fairy lights and futuristic looking globe lights and a collection of plushies and nick-nacks. It was beautiful, but most importantly it was Phil.

"Sorry about the mess." He muttered as he darted in front of me, scooping clothes up off the floor and bundling them into a cupboard.

"Mine's so much worse, don't worry." I laughed.

I stepped inside. It felt so entirely different to the rest of the house; lit by coloured lights and not even remotely square – a sloping ceiling in one corner and filled with so much stuff. I walked alongside a shelf, picking up tiny objects and examining them. A rubik's cube, some Pokémon, a boomerang, plane tickets, a lion plushie elephant, half a mars bar...

"How long has this been here?" I scolded. "You've been boarding at college for three weeks!"

"About three weeks then." Phil said guiltily. "Why, do you want some?"

"Get that away from me!" I laughed as he tried to push it in my face.

"Well?" He said, somewhat apprehensively. "I haven't redecorated since I was like seven."

"It's amazing. Way cooler than my room." I grinned. "I'm not looking forward to staring up into Sarah Michelle Gellar's face while we're having sex though."

Phil threw a lion at my head.

*

His bed was the type that was so old and broken that you could just sink into it, the worn out springs putting up very little resistance. Phil lay beside me in the nest like warmth with a sea of duvets and blankets and pillows and soft toys around us. We cuddled, careful not to get too close in case Phil's mum came in, and Phil talked me through the story behind each poster tacked lovingly to the ceiling.

"The big one of Tom Cruise is from my Nan," he smiled at the memory. "Basically she bought it for herself but got sick of hiding it from Granddad and told me to look after it for her. Whenever she's round she always comes in to say hello to him."

I laughed. "Your Nan sounds brilliant."

He grinned. "You'll meet her today. And Granddad, but do us all a favour and don't ask about the war. He can go on for hours."

Just then we heard a knock on the door.

"Philip? Tea's ready!" Clearly Phil's mum had decided it safer not to come right in. "Come down and say hello to Granny and Grandpa, then help me lay the table will you?"

"Coming!" Phil called back.

We manoeuvred ourselves out of the bed with a creaking of bed springs and groaning of wooden slats. Phil clattered down the stairs two at a time and I was left running after him, gasping for breath.

"Hello, Philip dear." An elderly lady with a warm, crinkled grin and the same sparkling blue eyes as his Dad greeted Phil with an embrace. "And who's your friend?"

"Er..." Phil glanced at me, panic in his eyes.

"Joyce dear would you pop in here for a minute? And Henry? Just a quick word." Phil's mum winked at me and we both relaxed, but not completely.

The table was already half spread with a mouth watering array of dishes, the centrepiece a huge bowl of steaming shepherd's pie.

"It's nothing fancy..." Phil said as he pulled cutlery out of drawers.

"It looks delicious!" I said, hurrying forwards to help him.

*

Phil's Grandma bustled into the room a moment later and marched straight up to me. "Let's have a good look at you then, pet."

My eyes were wide with panic but as I saw the glint in hers I relaxed and grinned sheepishly.

"Hmmmm...." She said, pretending to scrutinize me up and down. "Looks a bit like Tom cruise. Too skinny though." Turning to Phil. "He'll do. Can he knit and sew? Does he know how to iron a shirt?"

"Graaan..." Phil mumbled, turning bright red.

I sniggered, glowing with the praise. Tom Cruise. Well, that was a first.

"Ahh well, I'm sure I can whip him into shape. He's going to have to work hard if he wants to get his hands on Granny's secret recipe book! Here let me do that Philip, you're all thumbs. There's an art to folding napkins."

Phil abandoned the serviettes with relief, muttering a sorry under his breath as he passed me to fetch more dishes from the kitchen.

Phil's granddad was next to emerge, looking thoroughly bewildered. He eyed me suspiciously before shuffling out again without a word and shaking his head. My stomach churned. This was going to be an interesting dinner.

*

"Daniel would you be a dear and pass the salt?" Joyce grinned at me across the table, and in my haste to grab the salt cellar I knocked it over, scattering white granules across Phil's lap.

Face burning, I righted it and mumbled an apology to Phil as he brushed it off with a chuckle.

"You have to throw it over your shoulder now!" Joyce cackled.

Panic stricken, I turned to Phil. I was neither mentally nor socially equipped for this situation. Was I supposed to laugh it off, or did she actually expect me to throw a pinch of salt over my shoulder and onto the carpet?!

Phil just rolled his eyes at me and I settled for the first option, flashing a sheepish grin and adopting the smile and nod approach.

Phil's granddad, Henry, was next to take up the polite conversation.

"So, er Daniel. What is it you like to do then. Do you play sport? You on the rugby team at school? I used to be on every team I could get my hands on, I was quite a sportsman in the day. Our Philip used to play football, that how you, er, met? Or do you go for boxing, rowing, that sort of thing?"

My face burned and I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, turning helplessly to Phil once more. He winked at me, a wicked glint in his eye. Please no. I mouthed.

"Dan dances, actually." Phil said, turning back to his granddad with another wink at me.

I closed my eyes briefly, wishing I could just duck under the table and just carry on sinking all the way to China.

"Eh?" Said Henry, his bushy eyebrows raised in disbelief. "What, ballroom? With suits and dickie bows and pretty girls in frocks?" He chewed on a celery stick for a moment, digesting the information. "I thought that had gone out of fashion years back. I'm glad to see the youth of today keeping it alive."

I could see Phil's parents eyeing me with polite interest across the table. Joyce seemed to be biting her lip as if to stop herself laughing. She threw me a wink as she caught my tortured expression, the laughter lines folding and crinkling in on themselves.

"No, actually," Phil said serenely. "Dan does ballet."

Damn you.

Unable to burry my face in my hands, I stared intently at my plate and carefully pictured stabbing Phil repeatedly with a pair of rusty garden shears.

"Ballet?!" Henry said in horror, dropping his fork and leaning an arm on the table to turn to me. "Ballet?" He said again. "With... all those tights and.... tutus, and, pointy shoes?"

There was no point denying it now so I just nodded, my expression pained.

"Bloody Hell." He wheezed, earning a smack on the arm from Joyce.

"Aye and I bet he looks lovely." She grinned. "I can see why our Philip fell from him, must be quite the agile chappy. Very flexible too I'd imagine." She raised an eyebrow, and I caught Phil's Dad cringing out of the corner of my eye. "I used to dance in my youth. That's how old Henry spotted me, up on stage at one of his army do's."

Henry hrrumphed and took another mouthful of potato.

I thought I'd passed the worse but he started up again – clearly determined to figure me out.

"Well, I'm sure you have a lot of fun up there, er, jumping around." He frowned. "So you're er, are more feminine kind of lad? Is that how it works then, the whole gay business? Do you like to, er, dress yourself up with skirts and makeup and all that malarkey, as if you were a lady, so the boys will like you? That explains the blokes down by West Street doesn't it Joyce, you know the ones with the feathers."

A spoon clattered.

You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife. I really didn't have a response to that so I just shoved pie in my mouth and stared at the table cloth.

"Oh Henry you old fool." Joyce chided. "Daniel's a lad Just like Philip, I rather think that's the whole point."

"Dad." Phil's dad muttered, shaking his head slowly.

Phil's mum came to the rescue with a pained smile and apologetic eyes.

"Oh, would you mind popping into the kitchen to check on the crumble pet?" She said, eyeing me meaningfully.

"Yes of course!" I jumped up with relief, practically sprinting out of the room. As I escaped into the warmth of the kitchen I wondered how long I could reasonably take staring at a desert before they sent out a search party.

*

When I returned Henry was mute, staring red faced into his plate. The rest of Phil's family smiled up at me, Phil mouthing a sorry from behind a napkin.

"I think it might be done actually." I announced. "Would you like me to bring it in? It looks amazing!"

"Oh that would be lovely of you, thank you dear." Phil's mum beamed at me.

The meal passed otherwise uneventfully in pleasant chatter, with not another word from Grandpa Henry. Joyce quickly elevated into one of my favourite people ever, causing me to snort into my crumble multiple times; Phil's mum running a close second. Slowly, I began to relax.

*

"You'll have to visit again soon!" Phil's mum smiled as she showed us to the door. "Don't mind old Henry, he's still living in the 1940s bless him. It's just all a bit of a culture shock, but I'm sure he'll figure it all out in time."

"Thank you so much for having me, and thank you for the meal – it was delicious!" I smiled.

"Oh come here you little ball of lanky, awkward cuteness." Joyce chuckled, pulling me into a hug. "You're good for Phil. I can see that. It's the way he looks at you when you're not looking. It's exactly the same as the way you look at him whilst he's staring off into space, bless him. You're a sweet boy - just flash that little button grin of yours whenever you get the chance you hear me!"

I grinned as I hugged her, earning a 'that's the one!' and another chuckle.

"Come on, we're going to have to run, the last train leaves in seven minutes!" Phil gasped as the door shut behind us, plunging the path into darkness.

I took his hand and, warm, happy and pleasantly full, sprinted out into the night with my favourite Lester by my side.