#and of course when i’m stressed my brain decides i am neither hungry nor tired at all until said stressor is over but GIRL.

[saturn-sends-hugs]

hhhhghghghgghggg guess who has a massive presentation tomorrow that they’re stressing out overrrrrr

[butterflyphil]

Those Four Words

Summary: “You absolute fucking prick.”

Word count: 1.6k

Rating: Teen+

Warnings: Swearing (guess it’s a little late for that though whoops I’ll just put that in the tags), food mention

A/N: Inspired by a debate between @botanistlester, @insanityplaysfics, and some anons on Phanfiction Catalogue about whether Dan or Phil would propose. I, um, might have been one of those anons btw (*cough* #TeamEliza *cough*). I hope this serves as an acceptable compromise.

read on ao3

“Hey.”

Dan doesn’t bother to look away from the episode of Steven Universe they’re watching, acknowledging his boyfriend only with a noncommittal sound somewhere between a hum and a grunt. Phil’s using his ‘idea’ voice, and as it’s barely past ten in the morning and Dan was up pacing the lounge until nearly five, he has neither the energy nor the mental capacity to pay attention to anything more complicated than cartoons right now. He pops another spoonful of cereal into his mouth and hopes whatever Phil has to say is brief.

(He gets his wish).

“Marry me?” Phil says in the exact same tone he used last week when he suggested that they go miniature golfing in the middle of a typical London downpour.

Dan chokes, and Phil spends a good five minutes patting his back while he coughs up pieces of Crunchy Nut. When his lungs are finally clear, Dan turns around, glaring.

“You absolute fucking prick,” he says.

“Is that a no?” Phil doesn’t sound concerned.

“You heard me last night, didn’t you?” Dan points an accusatory finger at Phil’s nose. “You heard me practicing my speech and decided to beat me to the punch. You utter shit.”

Phil puts his hands up in defense. “I just wanted a midnight snack. I think that instead of being mad at me, you should focus on how thoughtful I was to leave you some cereal for breakfast.”

“Oh, that’s what I should focus on, is it? Silly me, I thought the fact that you just fucking proposed to me was a slightly bigger deal.” He gets up from his sofa crease, arms crossed, and stomps his way to the bedroom, the voices on the television still going behind him.

Phil follows without missing a beat. “Come on, Dan, we’ve talked about getting married since you were twenty-two. Is it really that big a deal?”

“Yes!” Dan whirls around, nearly bumping his nose into Phil’s in the process. “There is a big goddamn difference between planning to get married and planning to get married.”

Phil tilts his head in confusion.

“Oh fuck off,” Dan says before throwing himself onto the bed dramatically.

“But…this is my room.”

“Fuck off,” Dan repeats, voice muffled by a pillow far too soft and nice-smelling to be his own. He realises with sudden annoyance that it’s Phil’s.

The bed dips, and Dan resists the impulse to scoot over and give Phil more room. He doesn’t deserve more room, Dan thinks. The proposal-thieving bastard.

“Tell me why you’re upset,” Phil says.

Dan groans and rolls onto his back. He meets Phil’s eyes, which still look far too full of affection for someone whose proposal was just rejected. Dan tries to hold onto his anger, but after a moment of tense silence, he ends up grabbing the pillow from behind him and hugging it to his chest. He studies the blue and green pattern as he grumbles, “I wanted to propose.”

“I know,” Phil says gently.

Dan’s anger comes back all at once. “Then why didn’t you just let me do it?”

“Tired of waiting, partially.” Phil shrugs. “But mostly, I was tired of seeing you so stressed about it.”

Dan’s mouth falls open. “What the hell, Phil? How long have you known?”

“Since August…” Phil says, wincing, “…of 2014.”

Dan just stares at him.

“I get hungry when I can’t sleep!” Phil rushes to defend. “And the bed gets cold when you leave, which wakes me up.”

No response.

“I really am sorry.” Phil ducks his head, peeking up through his overgrown fringe in a way that is decidedly not adorable. “I thought by now you would have known that I knew.”

That snaps Dan out of his trance. “Of course I didn’t know you knew,” he says. “Why would I still be practicing my speech if I knew you knew?”

“Oh.” Phil’s eyes widen as if the idea truly hadn’t occurred to him until now. “Er…”

Dan raises an eyebrow.

“Whoops?” Phil finishes lamely.

“Yeah. Whoops.”

“Well it’s not too late!” Phil says. “Just propose to me now.”

“I can’t just propose to you after you’ve already proposed to me. That’s not how it works.”

“Why not?”

Phil’s question sounds so sincere that it gives Dan pause. He struggles to come up with a good reason before giving up with a sigh. “There were supposed to be flowers.”

Phil taps his finger to his lips, considering, before springing up from the bed. He gathers every plant he can find in the bedroom into his arms—two cacti, an aloe vera plant, and something too dead to identify—before plopping onto the floor and placing two on each side of his legs. “What else?”

Dan feels the corner of his mouth tick up involuntarily. “I was going to take you to dinner first.”

“That part’s easy; we just ate cereal. What else?”

“I was going to try to look nice…” he says, running a hand through the messy curls that are currently pushed back from his forehead and haven’t been washed in days. With his other hand, he tugs at the hem of his wrinkled tee.

At this, Phil stands, joining Dan on the bed again and stilling Dan’s hands with his own. “You’re beautiful,” Phil says in a voice so sincere it makes Dan’s whole face heat up. “Anything else?”

“Well I was going to give this lengthy speech leading up to it, but apparently you’ve heard it a million times already.”

“I want to hear it again.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

Dan glares.

“Please?”

Dan continues to pout for as long as possible—which ends up being a whopping four seconds—before huffing through his nose and letting the words start tumbling out. “I was going to start by asking if you remembered that time we were Skyping before we even met, and I fell asleep while you were talking, and when I woke up you were still there.”

“I do,” Phil says.

Dan ignores him. “And I was going to tell you how you didn’t know it then—only you probably did because apparently I can’t keep anything from you—but that was the moment I realised I wanted you to be in my life for as long as I lived. And I wasn’t thinking about marrying you or even dating you yet. I just knew that I wanted to be with you, permanently, in any capacity you’d allow.”

“I felt the same way.”

“And how it still took me months to notice I was in love with you, and how I fretted about ruining our friendship for ages before you kissed me out of the blue one day because you knew, of course you knew, and fuck I’m just now realising how stupid I was to think I could plan a proposal for this long without you figuring it out.”

“Not your smartest assumption, no.”

“And even with me spilling my heart out and you over there being a smartass about the whole thing—”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“—I still want to spend every second until the day I die by your side.”

“I’d sort of prefer to go to the toilet alone, if that’s alright.”

The enthusiasm in Dan’s eyes vanishes instantly, replaced by a blank stare. “Actually, you know what? I take it all back. I fucking hate you.”

Phil smiles. “I know.”

As though the brain cells that control his emotions finally abandon ship, Dan suddenly bursts into both laughter and tears.

Phil, ever calm and patient in the face of Dan’s hysterics, simply cradles Dan to his chest and lets him cry on his shirt.

“I don’t actually hate you,” Dan says between hiccups. “The opposite of that, actually. Like, the super-duper opposite.”

“I super-duper opposite of hate you too,” says Phil.

When Dan has finally regained some semblance of composure, he feels a thumb reach out and wipe the leftover moisture off his cheeks. He whispers a hoarse “thank you” and wraps his arms around Phil’s waist, and they stay that way for longer than either of them can keep track of.

“Hey.” Dan is the first to break the silence. Phil looks down at him, and Dan hides his grin in Phil’s chest. “We’re getting married.”

“Are we?” Phil asks. “You never answered my question.”

“You never answered mine either.”

“You never actually asked.”

Dan huffs, both exasperated and amused. “Will you marry me, then?”

“Hm…” Phil pretends to think about it. “I don’t know…will there be cake?”

Dan releases his hold on Phil’s waist and shoves his arm. “Just say yes, you idiot.”

“Yes,” Phil replies seriously, and then he smirks. “You idiot.”

Dan scoffs even as he grips Phil’s shirt in both hands and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s tender but short-lived, as Dan soon pulls back to say, “I get to plan the wedding.”

“Is that a yes from you as well?”

“I mean it. I didn’t get the proposal I wanted so I get to choose every last detail.”

“Is that a yes?” Phil repeats.

“I want a vegan wedding cake. A black one. And black and white décor. We’re wearing tuxes, not suits. Monochrome dress code for the guests too. I won’t have even a hint of color.”

“Is that a yes?”

Dan narrows his eyes. “I want a divorce.”

“You’ll have to marry me first.”

A slow grin creeps onto Dan’s face.

“Alright.”