Work Text:
They had these little traditions that came about completely by accident. Shows they would watch together while eating takeaway burgers. Days of the week they would cook together, taking time to research new recipes and painstakingly follow them to the T. Meme dates where they would scroll through tumblr or reddit together in bed. Holidays they saved for each other.
One of these traditions was their yearly Oscars cuddle. This was one of the only traditions that the internet was entirely privy of. However, as the years went by (and Phil got older, as Dan liked to remind him), he seemed to fall asleep earlier and earlier on the night of the Oscars.
And after Dan revealing Phil’s inability to stay up on Twitter, Phil was adorably set on staying awake for this year’s awards. Dan knew that it wasn’t going to happen.
“The internet is judging me, Dan.” Phil said, while surrounding himself with his stay awake arsenal : Coffee, chocolate-covered espresso beans, alcohol (which seemed counter-productive, but Dan wasn’t about to remind Phil that alcohol was a depressant). “I’m serious this year.” Phil had even made the decision to keep his jeans on, instead of changing into pj pants, hoping the little bit of discomfort would help him stay awake.
“‘Course you are.” Dan said, sipping his homemade testicle-themed cocktail and not saying another word about it. Phil frowned in response, but snuggled down into the couch to watch celebrities arriving on the red carpet. Dan planted himself right next to Phil and made the move to spread their fuzzy throw blanket over their laps.
Phil made a noise of protest and tossed the blanket away. “No way! Blankets mean sleep! Are you even trying to help me out here?” Dan stared at Phil with disbelief, trying to gauge if Phil was serious.
Dan narrowed his eyes, then shrugged. “More comfy blanket for me. Just means you’ll fall asleep and freeze into a Philcicle. Don’t come crying to me when that happens.” Phil huffed, mumbling something about Dan keeping his furnace body away from him.
Dan kept an eye on Phil throughout the night, wondering when the moment of Phil’s downfall would come. The caffeine kept him strong for the first half the show. Phil was downright twitchy, getting up to pee constantly, always moving to get comfortable, fidgeting with their couch pillows. “Will you stop shaking your leg, mate? You’re vibrating my entire body.”
“I’ll vibrate your mum.” Phil replied without hesitation, earning a thwack from Dan with a pillow.
Dan could tell exactly when the caffeine wore off and Dan’s champagne-and-vodka combo began to take effect. Somewhere around the second hour, Phil’s body slowly melted down into the couch. His spine curved and his head lolled against the cushions. Dan watched with amusement as Phil leaned into Dan, filling the empty crook of Dan’s neck with his head. Dan said nothing when Phil wormed his way under Dan’s blanket, or when Phil’s eyelids grew heavy and shut completely.
Just shy of hour three, Phil was a dead-weight against Dan, snoring lightly. His hand still clutched the empty champagne flute and his glasses sat crookedly on his face. Dan watched the rest of the Oscars, because he wasn’t an old man like some people and actually still had the ability to stay up past his bedtime.
When Dan switched off the TV and took care of their empty glasses, he looked back on Phil and figured it was time to give the internet what they wanted. A couple shots of an adorable, sleeping Phil couldn’t hurt anyone. Dan got up close and personal with the second shot, hoping that capturing all of Phil’s rumpled beauty might add a little extra shame.
But, somewhere along the way, Dan got distracted by Phil’s sleeping face. Relaxed, happy, trusting. It made Dan’s heart warm. A tiny smile was touching Phil’s lips and Dan had the urge to kiss it. Instead, Dan pushed Phil’s quiffed hair back and leaned forward to press a kiss to Phil’s forehead. He lingered there, breathing in the scent of Phil’s hair. Dan’s fingers slipped down to cup Phil’s cheek, his thumb rubbing his cheekbone.
“Hey, you. Wake up,” Dan whispered softly. Phil’s eyes opened, then closed like usual. Dan stroked his cheek again, tapping lightly against the smooth skin. “You need to get up old man, or the couch will hurt your back.”
This time, when Phil closed his eyes again, he squeezed them shut and let out a groan. He was awake.“Ugh, you’re so mean to me.”
Dan smiled softly, leaned forward and kissed Phil’s downturned lips. “I know. I’m really the worst boyfriend in the world. Wait till you see the pictures of you I’m gonna tweet.” Phil moaned again, tossing his head back petulantly. “All right, up with you.” Dan added, reaching down to grab Phil’s arms and pry him up. Phil let himself be hoisted up and leaned heavily on Dan while they trudged to the bedroom. After helping him out of his jeans, Phil collapsed under their covers and immediately fell asleep.
*
Dan smirked, typing out a familiar caption into twitter’s compose box. Over the years, their fans came to expect these tweets. They were a tradition. Over the years, the pronouns used in the tweet changed somewhat, but long gone were the days that fans freaked out over the pictures. Instead, they were expected. Domestic, but expected. This year’s caption was “they all failed.”
Dan tweeted the picture and pocketed his phone. He looked at the sight before him: Phil nestled in the side of the couch, holding their daughter in his arms, with one arm around their son. All of them sleeping peacefully, missing the Oscars, keeping up traditions.