Work Text:
Dan shouldn’t watch rom-coms. He knew this. He got too emotionally affected by them, and it wasn’t good for his reputation as a full-time Internet edgelord without a soul. Unfortunately, his boyfriend was a massive sap. And even more unfortunately, Dan was so hopelessly, horrendously in love with him that he would watch paint dry with Phil if he asked nicely enough.
The credits rolled, and Dan tried to pretend he hadn’t been crying during the wedding scene. Weddings were all heteronormative bullshit, anyways. The part where the father of the bride gave her away? Completely misogynistic. Women weren’t property. It was fucked up, and Dan was not emotional about it.
Dan glanced over at Phil, who wasn’t even pretending not to cry.
“Shut up,” Phil said, sniffling into his chips.
“I didn’t say anything,” Dan said.
“You didn’t need to,” Phil said. “I felt it.”
Dan kicked him in the foot, and Phil whined.
“I saw you cry too, you know,” Phil said. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but if you’re going to be mean—”
“I did not!” Dan squawked.
Phil just grinned and put another chip into his mouth, and his stupid face made Dan’s insides go so mushy that he let all his stupid rom-com feelings come out through his mouth. “Marry me,” Dan said.
The chip fell out of Phil’s mouth. “But you don’t want to get married.”
“I don’t,” Dan said. “I want to marry you.”
Phil picked the chip off of the sofa and took a bite. Gross, Dan would have said at any other moment. “When?” Phil asked.
Dan gestured. “Now. Yesterday. Next year. I don’t know. Before I change my mind.”
“You haven’t put much thought into this,” Phil said, his voice tinged with laughter.
Dan scowled. “Don’t laugh at me.”
Phil poked him in the ribs. “But you’re so funny.”
Dan pouted, looking at Phil through his lashes the way he knew Phil couldn’t resist.
Phil sighed, giving in. “But you hate commitment.”
Dan shrugged, trying to sound less concerned about it than he really was. “If I change my mind, I’ll just divorce you.” It was something Phil had pointed out, before, mostly amused, just a little frustrated— you know marriage is a lot easier to get out of than a mortgage, right?
“You’re so romantic, Dan. ‘If I change my mind, I’ll just divorce you.’ Don’t make me swoon, you know I faint easily.”
Dan glared. “I’ll go get the smelling salts.”
“Good,” Phil said, settling back into a lounging position on the sofa and returning to snack on his chips.
“So?” Dan asked. “Is that a yes?”
Phil tilted his head to the side, studying Dan. “Ask again,” he said finally.
Dan frowned. “What?”
“That wasn’t a very good proposal,” Phil said. “Try again.”
“Are you serious,” Dan said. Phil just leaned back, looking at him expectantly. Dan sighed. “I don’t think you’re being very appreciative of the progress I’ve made on my commitment issues right now,” he said, in his best my-therapist-will-hear-about-this voice.
“Do you have a ring?” Phil asked. “I’d be more appreciative if you had a ring.”
“Do I have a— fuck you,” Dan said, leaning forward. “I’m trying to be spontaneous here.”
Phil shook his head in mock disapproval. “You’d make this kind of decision on a whim?” He grinned and stuck another chip in his mouth.
“Fuck you,” Dan said again. “You know it’s not just a whim. You don’t even like rings.”
“It’s about the effort,” Phil said. “If you really loved me, you’d replace the ring with something else. Something I like more.”
“Your older brother didn’t bully you enough,” Dan said moodily. “And your parents spoiled you.”
Phil settled back into the sofa, smug and secure on his little throne. “I think you mean they loved me,” he said, “And made sure I had standards, so that my future husband would treat me the way I deserved.”
“Is that a yes?” Dan asked.
“No. If you mean it, ask again,” Phil said. “Better this time.”
Dan sighed in frustration. He pushed the coffee table with their takeaway boxes away so he had room to kneel at Phil’s feet. “This is stupid,” he said. “It’s just a formality, we’re basically married already.”
Their lives were irrevocably woven together in a way undoing a mortgage or getting a divorce could never change. They spent the better part of twenty-four hours a day sleeping, eating, working beside each other. They shared the same friends, the same career, the same video editing software subscription. In hospitals, Dan told people he was Phil’s partner, and didn’t correct anyone when they assumed that meant married.
“Then formalize away, Danny boy,” Phil said, clearly pleased with where he had Dan on the floor, in front of him.
Dan sighed heavily.
“Don’t sound so annoyed about it,” Phil ordered. “You’ve got to keep doing it until you get it right. We’ll be here all night at this rate.”
Dan bit his tongue. “It’s like you’re looking for reasons to say no.”
Phil just grinned, the tip of his tongue sticking through his teeth.
Dan huffed. “Fine. Be like that.” He looked up, straight into Phil’s stupidly blue eyes.
Phil quirked an eyebrow. Get on with it, his body language said.
Dan swallowed. “Be my husband,” he said, folding his hands into Phil’s lap. “Please.”
“Oh, Dan.” Phil touched his face. “Of course. I already am. In every way that matters.”