Fic: Because of Reasons
Title: Because of Reasons Summary: There’s always a reason why … so they come up with compromises. Or, Dan and Phil go out for a fancy dinner to celebrate Phil’s birthday. Rating: PG (for Dan’s foul mouth) Word Count: 5,425 Author’s Note: Written for the @phandomreversebang, inspired by incredibly beautiful artwork by @deathclassic which you can find here. A great many thanks to my beta, @insectbah, without whom this fic would be far inferior ... but I claim any remaining errors as entirely my own.
Because of Reasons
“Happy birthday, my sweetheart baby love muffin!” Dan wrapped his arms around Phil from behind and leaned over to give him a slobbery kiss on the side of his neck. Phil laughed and batted him away.
“Don’t drool on me! You’ll get my nice shirt all drooly.” They were both dressed in crisply-pressed white dress shirts with expensive suit trousers. Neither had put on their coats yet.
“How about this, then?” Dan asked, and leaned over toward Phil’s neck again. Phil braced himself for Dan’s next teasing attack, but Dan merely pressed a soft kiss just below Phil’s ear … then gave his earlobe a tiny nip.
“You’re not allowed to be mean to me on my birthday,” Phil complained, touching his ear, even though it hadn’t really hurt. Just stung a bit. Mostly just surprised him, really.
Dan smirked at him. “Oh, you forget how well I know you. You don’t mind a bit of biting.”
Phil gave Dan a cool look, then said casually, “Maybe later.” He waited a beat before adding with a smirk of his own, “If you’re lucky,” which made Dan laugh.
It was the 3rd of January, and so not Phil’s actual birthday at all, which wouldn’t happen until January 30. But with all eyes on them every January 30, all their fans wondering what they would do, everyone hoping to catch a glimpse of them, they could never relax and celebrate comfortably. And so a few years ago they’d come up with the idea of a “Backwards Birthday”: the date on which they went out to celebrate their birthdays when fewer eyes were watching. They’d decided it should be the reverse of the actual date, and so—since Phil’s birthday was January 30—they went out every January 03, or, that is to say, January 3rd.
Dan had made his own “Backwards Birthday” far more complicated by having the temerity to be born on the 11th of June … and reversing 11 didn’t accomplish much. As a result, they’d decided that Dan’s “Backwards Birthday” was created by simply removing one of the identical digits. So they celebrated his birthday in privacy on the 1st of June each year.
“You ready to go?” Dan asked, holding Phil’s suit coat out for him to slip on. Phil did the same for Dan and they both buttoned their coats: two attractive young men dressed quite formally in fine, well-tailored suits, ready for an elegant night on the town.
Phil went to grab his overcoat, but Dan stopped him. “It’s cold, but we won’t need them. It’s not like we’ll be standing around outside—we’ll just be getting in and out of taxis … and overcoats would totally ruin the aesthetic of the suits.” He preened a bit, and cast an admiring glance Phil’s way as well. They both looked quite handsome and appreciated the fact about each other.
It was something they both loved about their relationship: this deep attraction that still hummed between them, even after nearly a decade. Both looked forward to the end of the evening, when the elegant suits would be removed and the more private part of the celebration would commence in the bedroom.
But, for now, they had restaurant reservations, and a taxi awaited them outside. They stood close together and held hands, leaning in for a last embrace with no joking or teasing. Just a gentle, loving kiss. And then they turned to go.
As they crossed the threshold, they unlinked their hands, ready to face the world.
—
It was just after sunset when the taxi dropped Dan and Phil off in a very exclusive neighborhood of London, where they proceeded to walk down a very tiny lane, so narrow that two cars could not have passed each other abreast. They soon came upon an ornate door and walked into a very posh antique shop. Not pretending any interest in the shop’s wares, they simply continued walking down a corridor in the back of the shop until they came to a plain black door and rang a bell.
When the door opened, they were greeted by a rather intimidating man in an expensive-looking gray suit, who quietly asked for their names. He consulted an electronic device in his hand before eventually smiling warmly—the expression quite dramatically altering every aspect of his face—and holding the door wide open to welcome them inside.
It was really quite clever. The narrow lane prevented patrons from being easily followed by paparazzi or other unwanted companions, and the expensive antique shop might attract any variety of wealthy patrons, making it a completely unremarkable destination for anyone in the upper echelons of London society.
The shop itself did indeed sell high-quality antiques, but few knew of the secret hidden behind its collection of extravagantly-priced vases and heirloom jewelry.
Dan and Phil walked along another short corridor to an elaborately decorated arch which proved to be the entrance to a small anteroom where they were met by a tuxedoed man who greeted them with a warm smile. “Welcome, gentlemen! Dan Howell and Phil Lester, table for two!” Gesturing for them to follow, he led them into a small, very exclusive restaurant called Tangier.
The grouping of small rooms were all decorated in the Moroccan style, with domed ceilings and colorful tiled mosaics on the walls, all in various shades of blue, green, and white. A small marble fountain burbled in the center of each room, serving not only to contribute to the themed atmosphere but also to enhance the privacy of diners’ conversations.
No windows looked in on the patrons’ privacy in the restaurant, so all light was provided by elaborately decorated glass lamps that dangled from the ceiling in strategic locations. It left the rooms slightly dim, which only contributed to the sense of intimacy and secrecy.
In truth, there was a beautiful courtyard in the center of the restaurant, open to the sky and providing wonderfully atmospheric dining in the warmer months. But this was January in London—and an especially cold night, at that. The courtyard would not be open for use until June, most likely.
The maitre d’ led Dan and Phil to a small booth that was an alcove sheltered by a horseshoe arch such as those most common in Moroccan architecture. As tall as they were, Dan and Phil both had to contort themselves a bit to get through the ornate entryway to the alcove, but they then settled themselves comfortably on the curved bench, sitting close together in what felt like their own little private, protected world. The ornate glass oil lamp on the table cast flickering shadows around the cozy space.
A waiter arrived to ask their pleasure, and Dan declared, “We’d like a bottle of your third finest champagne,” which made Phil laugh. “It’s your birthday, after all!” Dan teased. They grinned at each other like conspiratorial children who’d escaped the attention of especially vigilant parents. Only, in this case, they’d escaped the attention of especially vigilant fans.
They didn’t have nearly as high a social profile as most diners at Tangier, since the restaurant was frequented by celebrities far more famous than themselves, and they couldn’t afford to dine like this often, but it had become an extravagant tradition for Backwards Birthdays. And, among such illustrious company, they felt quite wonderfully unremarkable.
When the champagne arrived, Dan made a toast. “Here’s to your latest revolution around the sun. I’m glad we got to spend it together.” Phil leaned in for a kiss, but it was only a quick one, and they both looked around afterward. It was just habit after all these years. The privacy and discretion of Tangier were the precise reasons why they chose to come here for their special celebrations each year, so that they could have just a few hours outside the flat but away from prying eyes. They each saw the other glancing around and both laughed at themselves. “I don’t know why anybody’d be looking at us,” Dan remarked dryly. “Not when Ed Sheeran’s at the next table.”
“Is he really?” Phil asked, leaning over as if he wanted to peer outside their booth.
Dan grabbed his arm. “Don’t!” he laughed. “He’s here for the same reason as us. To get away from the staring. So don’t ruin it for him.”
Phil settled down with a bit of a pout. “Just a few feet away from Ed Sheeran. So near, and yet so far!”
“A fan of your fellow ginger?” Dan asked with a smirk, and Phil bopped him on the nose as punishment.
“Do you want to know something really exciting?” Dan asked, and Phil nodded. “I’m pretty sure I just saw Sue Perkins walking out of the ladies’.”
“We even know her!” Phil exclaimed excitedly. “Or, at least, she interviewed us. But I feel like we know her, after watching her on Bake-Off for so long.” But even Phil knew better than to approach Sue, even if they actually made eye contact, because that was one of the unspoken rules at Tangier. You stayed in your own little bubble.
Dan and Phil’s own little bubble tended to stay within their own flat, so being able to have that kind of comfort somewhere else was a great luxury. If they were publicly open about their relationship, things would be different. But, as things were, Tangier was one of the very few semi-public places where they could be themselves.
“It hasn’t been the same since she left,” Phil mourned.
“What?” asked Dan, puzzled.
“Bake-Off.”
“Oh,” Dan said, nodding. “You’re right about that! But anything’s better with Sue Perkins.”
Phil raised a mischievous eyebrow. “Anything?”
Dan laughed. “I don’t think we’re her type.”
They both dissolved into very undignified giggles just as the waiter returned. They straightened up, both clearing their throats, and tried to look like mature adults out for a formal evening in a fancy restaurant. The waiter professionally ignored any apparent oddness and simply provided them with their menus. The menu at Tangier changed constantly, depending on what fresh meats and produce the restaurant had been able to obtain, as well as the caprice of the chef. The waiter left them to peruse their options.
The food at Tangier tended to be an eclectic fusion of Moroccan flavors with other types of cuisine, so one never knew what might be on offer. Dan and Phil each had difficulty choosing between the same two entrées, and so they decided to just order them both and share them. Then, after a bit of palavering, they decided to order one additional entrée to share, splurging for Phil’s birthday. When the waiter reappeared, they told him their choices, along with two starters, and then he disappeared into the dimness again.
“I’ll have to eat vegan for a month to make up for all this!” Dan joked. They really had overdone it with their order, but it was a special occasion after all.
Phil leaned his head against Dan’s and sighed happily. “I love coming here. And not just because it’s my birthday. I love being able to canoodle with you in public without worrying who’s watching.”
Dan choked and leaned away to look into Phil’s face. “Did you … did you just use the word ‘canoodle’?” Phil laughed and nodded with a dismissive shrug. “Well, that’s it. This relationship is over. I may as well just leave now, if I can figure out how to climb out of this fucking booth, that is.” He made a mock attempt to extricate himself from the alcove.
Laughing, Phil grabbed his arm and pulled him back, Dan landing on him so that they rested against each other even more closely than they had before. “I just love coming here with you,” Phil explained. “I can actually kiss you and no one cares.” He did so, pressing his lips softly against Dan’s for a long moment. “I can wrap my arms around you and not worry that it’ll be all over Twitter tomorrow.” He wrapped his arms around Dan in demonstration. Dan leaned into the embrace, showing that he didn’t mind a bit of canoodling, despite his mock objections.
“Do you ever think about it? Going public?” Dan turned to press a whisper of a kiss against Phil’s throat. They were definitely canoodling now. As if suddenly realizing the fact, Dan sat up to take a sip of his champagne. He looked back at Phil’s face, waiting for an answer.
Phil was frowning as if in thought. “Well, we’ve talked about this.” He let Dan take another sip of champagne before pulling him back into his arms. “Oh, and by the way, we can sip champagne and cuddle at the same time.” They picked up their champagne flutes and proved him right.
“I know we’ve talked about it,” Dan agreed, then sipped his champagne again. Even Tangier’s third best was really quite good. “But don’t you ever wish we could?”
“Of course!” Phil replied immediately. “I mean … to be honest with you … I wish it every day. When we’re wandering around the flat and I steal a kiss, I think, ‘Couldn’t do that on the Tube,’ and I feel a little sad.”
Dan winced. “You would really want to be the kind of people who kiss on the Tube?”
“Just a little one!” Phil objected. “Just a peck. Like when you say something adorable and I just can’t help myself.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess if you just can’t help yourself. But I object to being called ‘adorable.’ I am edgy and depressing, sarcastic and ironic. And yes, I know the difference between the two, because I’m also a smart-ass.”
“That’s so adorable,” Phil cooed, and kissed Dan on the nose. Dan rubbed aggressively at his nose as if horribly offended. It made him spill some champagne on his suit coat. “Oops,” Phil said with an apologetic look.
“It’s like being in a relationship with a toddler sometimes,” Dan grouched, but he couldn’t quite hide his fond smile while he was saying it.
“You were the one who spilled,” Phil pointed out.
“But it was your fault,” Dan insisted.
“Now who sounds like a toddler?” Phil teased.
Dan leaned forward and kissed him thoroughly to shut him up. Then he heard ceramic quietly hitting the wood of the table and jerked away. Their starters had arrived, though the waiter disappeared without any comment.
They dug in to the appetizers: two vegetarian salads, one hot and one cold, both deliciously spiced. They repeatedly fed each other bits of food off their own forks because “You’ve got to taste this!”
“How about you?” Phil asked between tasty bites. He took a sip of champagne and savored it. “Do you think about it?”
“About going public?” Dan asked. Phil nodded. “Every day. Like you. But without the kissing on the Tube.” Phil snorted. “So why haven’t we?” Dan’s voice sounded wistful. He took another bite of one of the salads.
Phil didn’t say anything for a long time. Then he offered, “Because we wanted to keep this as something that was just ours, not something that millions of people would comment about.”
Dan turned to stare at Phil in disbelief. “You really think they don’t already comment about it? They’re writing epic novel-length fanfics about it. They’re making gifs of every time we glance at each other too long on the gaming channel. You’ve done the Tumblr Tag videos with me.”
“You know what I mean,” Phil said, looking a little hurt, and Dan regretted his sarcasm. “We wanted to have at least a little privacy.”
Dan nodded, taking another bite of food. “Yeah, privacy. Right. You need to eat more of these appetizers, or I’m not going to have any room left for dessert.”
Phil ran a hand down Dan’s back, wishing that the smooth black suit jacket wasn’t made of such thick material, because he felt far away from Dan right now and wanted to be closer. “Come here,” he requested, “please?”
Dan looked at him, then put down his fork and leaned in for a prolonged, Moroccan-spiced kiss. When they pulled apart, he asked, “What was that for?”
“Just because I love you,” Phil said quietly, habitually aware of possibly being overheard. “And you seemed unhappy.”
“Right. No being unhappy on the birthday boy’s special night!” Dan agreed, toasting him with his champagne and then taking a healthy swig of the stuff. He smiled at Phil, and it seemed mostly genuine.
Phil tilted his head and asked, “Have you changed your mind about that? About going public?”
Dan asked, “Have you?”
“I don’t know,” Phil admitted. “There are so many factors involved. I mean, how our audiences would react, what it would mean to our branding, how much homophobia might impact us if we were openly out in the public eye…”
“And all of that stuff scares you?” Dan asked.
“Doesn’t it scare you?” Phil replied.
“Not as much as trees in the dark,” Dan quipped. “Nothing scares me as much as trees in the dark.” And then he changed the subject just as their main dishes arrived, and much of their continuing conversation revolved around the food and memories of past visits to the same restaurant.
They ended up lingering a long time over their extravagant dessert of honey almond cake with saffron gelato and a chocolate cinnamon tuile. There was a bit of a tussle over the tuile, since it didn’t seem large enough to share, but Dan eventually decided that Phil should have it, since it was his birthday. Phil broke it in half as carefully as he could and gave half to Dan, who gave him a kiss in exchange. They gazed into each other’s eyes and Dan stroked a finger along Phil’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered, as if it were more than just a bit of biscuit.
“I love you,” Phil replied, kissing Dan again, and this time it went on long enough that Phil nearly forgot they still had dessert to finish. It seemed unlikely they would finish it, anyway, as they were both quite full. He could certainly finish the chocolate part, though.
“Now we know how these are made,” Phil commented as he slowly pulled away from the embrace and took a delicate nibble of the crisp curved biscuit in his hand.
Dan gave him a questioning look, then understanding dawned in his eyes and he nodded. “Right. That episode of the Bake-Off! Definitely not something I ever want to try for Easter Baking!”
Phil shook his head vigorously. The contestants on the show had experienced disaster after disaster trying to make the delicate little tubular wafers. That was back when Sue Perkins was still on the show. He hoped that somewhere, wherever she was in the restaurant, if she hadn’t already left, she knew how much they mourned her departure from the show.
He looked at Dan and could tell, just by looking into his eyes, that he was thinking the same thing. “Maybe we’re sending her psychic messages from across the restaurant,” Dan grinned.
They kept taking tiny bites of the cake long past when the gelato had melted, because admitting the meal was over would mean returning to the real world, and they preferred to stay in this magic haven of privacy just a little longer. Each bite of cake was followed by a long gaze into each other’s eyes, almost always followed by an even longer kiss.
Finally, Dan remarked, “We should probably leave before we get thrown out for public indecency.” They both chuckled. They hadn’t done anything any other couple might get away with on a public park bench, but it felt decadent for them, accustomed as they were to extreme caution.
—
When Dan asked the maitre d’ to order them a taxi, the man replied, “An excellent idea. I’ve been told it just began snowing outside.” Dan sighed heavily, knowing what would come next.
“Can we walk, just for a little bit?” Phil begged. “It’s the first snow of the season, so we should go out and enjoy it!”
Well, hell, it was Phil’s birthday, after all.
It was very late and the streets were deserted, so they walked through an eerie silence. The snow wasn’t heavy, but Phil gazed up at it with rapt attention. “Think it’ll stick?” he asked Dan, a hopeful note in his voice.
“It’s cold enough,” Dan grumbled. “You’ll probably be able to build a proper snowman by tomorrow morning.”
“Remember the snowman we made that first year when you came to visit when I was still living at my parents’? Now that was a quality snowman!” Phil looped his arm through Dan’s and they both put their hands in their pockets against the cold. They walked arm in arm down the empty street, unafraid of unseen observers in such a complete absence of humanity.
“I remember a lot from that winter,” Dan replied with a smile, keeping pace with Phil’s relaxed, long-legged stride. “We had a lot of fun. Not all of it parent-approved.”
Phil laughed. “Well, there was that. But what I remember best is just kissing you in the snow. Your lips were cold, but we kissed until they were warm again.” He smiled a secret little smile and watched his feet in the light amount of snow on the ground as he walked. “Those are some of my favorite memories.”
“God, we were so young then! I was still a teenager, you cradle robber!” Dan reached around to poke Phil in the side to make him giggle. He managed it all without unlinking their arms … because he didn’t want to unlink their arms. Walking down a public street like this, so obviously a couple, was an unfamiliar experience. “We were so young,” he repeated, nostalgically. In the empty streets, his voice seemed to echo like those memories of times long past. “We didn’t care what anybody thought, and nobody really cared what we did.” They continued walking for a few minutes before he added, “Things have really changed for us.”
Phil seemed to be only half listening, though. He was gazing with wonder at the silently falling snow. “Remember when Jack first sees snow in The Nightmare Before Christmas?” he asked. Without waiting for Dan’s answer—which would obviously have been yes because they’d watched the movie at least a dozen times together—Phil continued, “That what the first snow of the year is always like for me.” His eyes were wide and beautiful in the light from the street lamps. “It’s like something I’ve never seen before, something completely new, every time.”
Phil started humming as they continued to walk arm in arm down the street, and Dan immediately recognized the tune. He knew any moment Phil would start to sing, despite the many people sleeping around them, and—just as he’d expected—Phil began very quietly singing “What’s This?” from The Nightmare Before Christmas, swaying a bit with the tune and letting go of Dan’s arm so that he could reenact Jack Skellington’s mannerisms from the film.
What's this? What's this? There's color everywhere What's this? There's white things in the air What's this? I can't believe my eyes I must be dreaming Wake up, Jack, this isn't fair What's this?
Dan joined him in singing the last “What’s this?” … while pulling a ring box out of his suit coat pocket and opening it for Phil to see inside. He’d planned to do this over dessert but had gotten too nervous and so had decided he would do it at home, or maybe another time they went out somewhere nice … but the snow and the nostalgia and Phil’s silliness with the song had ended up loosening him up and inspiring him to do it on the pavement of some random deserted street he didn’t even know the name of.
Phil was shocked. “What...”
Dan joked nervously, “What’s this? It’s a box of matching wedding rings.”
Phil just stared, which was not exactly the response Dan had been hoping for. Finally, Phil stammered, “You want to get married?”
Dan laughed awkwardly. “I thought the rings made that fairly obvious.”
Phil seemed absolutely dazed. “You want to marry me.” He sounded honestly baffled, as if this fact was incomprehensible.
Rolling his eyes, Dan sarcastically said, “No, I’m asking you if I can marry Tomska. Yes, of course I want to marry you!”
Phil frowned before saying slowly, “But then ... everyone would know…”
Impatient and growing increasingly hurt by Phil’s unenthusiastic reaction, Dan said, “Kind of the point. And then I could take you out on your actual birthday and kiss you over the fancy gelato without worrying that someone would see.”
Phil nodded slowly, looking deep in thought.
Dan sighed. “I know there are a lot of factors involved. You know, how our audience will react, and the homophobia problem, and the branding issue, and all of that…”
Phil interrupted him loudly, “Would you shut up long enough for me to say yes?”
“Yes?” Dan repeated through numb lips. “You’re saying yes?”
Phil goggled at him. “You actually thought I would say no? You went to the bother of buying rings and asking and everything, and you still thought I would say no?”
Dan looked dazed. “I just … I guess I didn’t … I didn’t get past the asking part when I was planning it out. And then you didn’t exactly act encouraging…”
Phil watched him expectantly.
Dan stared back, still looking stunned.
“So?” Phil asked.
“So what?” Dan asked, sounding bewildered.
“So, aren’t you going to kiss me or something? Act happy? Maybe hug me and spin me around like in the movies?”
That seemed to return Dan to himself a bit. “I am definitely not picking you up and spinning you around, you bloody giant.” And then he grinned. “Yes? You’re saying yes? You want to get married?”
“Yes!”
“Even though…”
Phil interrupted him. “Yes!”
Dan frowned. “But what about…”
Phil interrupted him more loudly. “Yes! I said yes, you idiot! This is where you’re supposed to be happy!” Then Phil’s expression changed. “Or … are you not happy? Were you hoping I would say no? Was this some kind of weird…”
This time it was Dan who interrupted. “No! I mean yes! I mean, of course I wanted you to say yes! This wasn’t any weird test or anything, whatever you were just about to say. It was an honest question. An honest proposal. I want to marry you. I want everyone to know we’re together, to know that you’re mine and I’m yours and yeah we fuck each other silly and we don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about it.”
“Well, I don’t think we should put that last bit in the marriage vows, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Phil grinned. “Even if we can’t get Sue Perkins to join in. Ooh! Do you think she would come if we invite her?”
“You’re already planning who to invite to the wedding when you haven’t even kissed me yet?”
Instinctively, they both glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, anyone who might have heard that, anyone who might see them kiss and snap creep shots to post on Instagram or Tumblr for definitive proof. Then Dan glanced at Phil with wide eyes and said, “It won’t matter anymore. We’ll be able to kiss any time we want, anywhere we want…”
“Even on the Tube,” Phil interjected with a smirk.
Dan rolled his eyes. “So it doesn’t matter anymore! We can do whatever we want!” Then his voice got impatient. “So why aren’t you kissing me already?”
Phil shrugged playfully. “You’re the one who asked, then I said yes, so I think tradition is that you would be the one to kiss me. Because you’re so happy. And we’ve established that you are, in fact, happy. So let the kissing commence.” Then Phil stood patiently with his eyes closed, arms extended, feeling the snow fall gently on his face as he waited.
Dan laughed, then stepped forward to crush Phil in his arms and kiss him soundly before picking him up and swinging him in a circle, making Phil clutch his arms around Dan’s neck and laugh the happiest laugh Dan had ever heard from him. Phil was really heavy, though, and Dan apparently needed to lift a few more weights, because he was seriously winded when he set Phil back on his feet.
Once they were both standing again, Phil’s arms still looped around his neck, Dan leaned in for another lingering kiss that tasted of cumin and ginger and turmeric and saffron and almonds and honey and cinnamon and just a hint of chocolate. All the foods they had shared. Everything they had shared.
“We’re getting married,” Dan whispered.
“We’re getting married,” Phil agreed just as quietly. “And you proposed to me in the first snow of the season. My favorite day of the year. And now I’ll always remember it that way, with the snowflakes in your hair and on your black suit, as you told me you loved me….” He paused. “Wait … did you even say that you love me? I want to remember you telling me you love me in the first snow of the season with snowflakes in your hair when we decided to get married.”
Dan stared at him in disbelief.
“Well, go on!” urged Phil, watching him impatiently.
“I love you, you incredibly insane twat. Why else would I want to marry you? I want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you, listening to you sing stupid songs and picking up the stupid socks you leave all over the floor! Of course I fucking love you, you twit.”
Phil was laughing now. “Not quite the romantic declaration I’d hoped for, but definitely a Dan version of romance … and that’s the version I want. Forever. Let’s get married.”
“I thought we’d established that part.”
Phil smiled. “I just wanted to say it again. It’s like a winter miracle. I think it was because of the snow.”
“No,” Dan objected, “it was because of me, with a box of rings in my pocket, asking you…”
“In the snow,” Phil interrupted. “You asked me in the snow. It couldn’t have been more perfect.” His face was pure bliss. Dan took his gloved hand and squeezed it. Phil squeezed back. They started walking again, still holding hands, both a little dazed with elation.
But after only a few minutes Dan grumbled, “It’s fucking cold out here. Why did we decide to walk again?” He pulled his hand from Phil’s and shoved both his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders against the freezing temperature as they continued to walk a few more yards. Then he stopped. “I’m calling an Uber.” He pulled out his phone and placed the order. “Now we just have to stand here in the fucking snow until they get here.”
Phil nodded in agreement, coquettishly complaining, “My lips are feeling especially cold.”
Dan saw through the obvious hint, but he went along with it anyway. “Well, then, I guess I’d better kiss you again or you might get frostbite before I can drag you to the altar.”
And so Dan pulled him close and they kissed again right there in public, on the pavement in the snow, not caring if anyone saw.