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“What, this one?” Phil says doubtfully and glances up at the posh name on the front of the furniture store. “Isn’t it kind of pricey?”
Dan shrugs. “Just for a laugh.”
They’re looking at flats in London for real now. A move is probably going to happen at some point in the not so distant future, Phil thinks, and if they really do succeed with their plans they’re going to need furniture. Probably, realistically, from Ikea. But they can dream, he supposes.
The store employees do give them a tiny bit of a stink eye, but at least they don’t kick them out on the spot. They also don’t offer them any help, but that’s probably for the best, as it would just make Phil nervous about how he probably can’t afford anything in this place.
Dan spots it first, of course. Among the fancy and sleek dining tables and chairs, there it is. A massive-looking hunk of a thing, looking almost as if it has been carved from a single block of stone: a chair shaped like the ass and legs of a person.
Dan makes a beeline for it and points emphatically at it, gesturing with both arms in a downwards arrow way, eyes wide, cheeks blown out to enormous size. His theatrics make Phil want to roll on the floor laughing, but just as Dan can’t screech out the jokes that are no doubt piling up, Phil can’t laugh at them out loud either.
He rushes over close and they huddle over the chair like children with a secret.
Dan lets out a long hiss of breath and whispers furiously: “Butt chair!”
“Butt chair,” Phil agrees and only giggles a little.
It’s ugly as fuck. Up close it still just looks massive and tacky in all its plastic glory. Who would ever put something like this in their house?
“It’s brilliant!” Dan says, low voice emphatic, almost loving.
Phil stares at him. “It’s horrible!”
“Yeah, exactly!” Dan walks around it and sits down. “Ooh! Comfy!”
“You’re pulling my leg, right?” Phil grins.
“It’s actually really comfortable!” Dan says and gets up, gesturing for Phil to try it.
He sits down hesitantly, still not convinced this isn’t just a protracted prank Dan is trying to pull. The seat is okay, he supposes, more curvy and supportive of his back than he expected. He gets up before the store employees can catch them sampling the merchandise.
“That is... quite a back,” Dan says, staring unashamedly at the chair’s butt.
It is an exceptionally toned ass, Phil has to admit. Still he scoffs and says, “Should I be jealous?”
“I mean...” Dan says while he keeps staring appreciatively, drawing it out just long enough to make Phil drop his jaw in mock outrage. “No. I think you still win.”
He is well aware that he’s being immature and stupid, but it does make Phil’s chest swell up with pride that his boyfriend of two years still prefers his ass to any other, even unrealistic ones on plastic chairs.
“We’re still not getting it.”
Dan gives him his best puppy dog eyes. It’s at times like these Phil is suddenly struck with how much he’s actually grown since the first time they met.
“But it’s cool, Phil!”
“Alright, keep the cool chair in your room, then. I’m not gonna look at it all the time.”
“No pride of place for these glutes?” Dan jokes.
“Office at the most,” Phil says. “Living room off limits.”
“Keep it on the balcony?”
Phil snorts. “Kinda defeats the purpose, eh?”
Dan hums.
He spots a weird-looking floor vase, and thinking the joke has more or less run itself out he turns to look more closely at the odd shape. When he looks for Dan, he’s still standing where he was, contemplating the chair while gnawing viciously at his bottom lip.
“You’re not actually serious?” Phil says. He thought Dan had been 80% joking, but now he has to drastically readjust that assessment. “It’s tacky as fuck, Daniel!”
“Ooh, it’s tackyyy, Danyulll,” Dan whines in a mocking tone. He gestures with both hands, a passionate back and forth motion. “That’s the point! It’s ironic!”
Phil rolls his eyes and tries to suppress the grin lurking to jump out. He starts walking away to demonstrate how tired he is of this conversation.
Dan scrambles around the chair to follow him, still gesturing wildly. “It’s a social commentary! It’s Jeff Koontz! The pornographic as art!”
“Oh yeah, it’s art, is it?” Phil scoffs. “And it’s got nothing to do with how you love a good ass?”
Dan stops and looks as if he is actually taken a bit aback. “Well. That too. Maybe. But my point still stands!”
Phil sighs and careens back towards the chair. He looks for the price tag, a plastic card dangling from a little suction cup. He flips it and nearly has a heart attack.
“That’s like! An entire deposit! We can’t possibly afford that!”
Dan looks stunned too, eyebrows raised high, a slight, frantic blush to his face. Then he recovers and shrugs. “True art is expensive. Such is the capitalist society in which we live. This chair probably cost like 20 quid to produce in China somewhere—“
“Alright, Karl Marx,” Phil says before he can get truly started on one of his many rants. “I guess it goes on the goals list, Danny boy.”
“Trip to Japan, penthouse home, hot chocolate tap for you,” Dan lists off, apparently easily distracted by their common dreams.
Phil bumps their sides together and smiles at him.