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'It's too late now, David! Give it back!' Michael laughs and tries to wrestle his phone out of David's hands.
David isn't laughing, but he is fervently swiping over the display, trying his best to guess Michael's password. He'll never get it right and that makes Michael just laugh a bit harder which earns him a disapproving glare from David. Michael takes the chance and snatches the phone back.
'You have to delete it,' David whines, reaching for him again, but Michael hides the phone behind his back. 'You know what people are gonna say! You can't do that, please Michael.'
'Too late, the whole internet has seen it, David. They have screenshots. David. Stop, this is futile. Georgia, help me, this tickles.' Michael is giggling now, phone tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, one arm trying to keep David from reaching around and retrieving it, the other busy fighting David's merciless attack on the soft side of his belly. Damn him for ever letting the man know he's ticklish.
Michael squeaks in surprise when he feels the phone disappear and a solid smack landing on his arse instead. He looks up at David who doesn't realize what's happened immediately. When he does, Michael has already changed tactics and tackles him onto the sofa to keep him from going after his wife who unlocks the phone easily and sticks her tongue out at David's scandalized expression.
'Whose side are you even on?' he asks, looking between them suspiciously.
'Whose idea do you think this whole thing was, baby?' Georgia smirks at him.
'And that, that involves you knowing his password? How much time do you both spend plotting behind my back?'
'All the time!' Michael says at the same time that Georgia replies: 'What, you don't know his password?'
David looks incredulous and Michael blushes.
'She just guessed right,' he reassures David, brushing a thumb over his cheek, now that he's stopped trying to escape the sofa.
'It's your birthday, baby,' Georgia says with a real smile. 'Wasn't hard to guess.'
'Is it?'
'Yeah,' Michael admits softly.
'Urgh! How am I supposed to be angry at you about all that now?'
'You can be angry at me instead,' Georgia suggests, waving the phone in front of their eyes, showing them the picture she took of them wrestling. 'I'll just put that up as your new profile pic, shall I, Michael?'
'No!' they exclaim in unison and what worries Michael most is that David seems genuinely worried she'll do it.
'April's fools, you idiots! But I will print this and frame it to hang up in my office. Now, get yourselves together. One of you has to pick up the kids in a bit and the other better get to cooking or else I will have to do it.' She leaves the phone on the table.
That threat has them scrambling to get up and put their outfits in order quickly. Michael combs his fingers through David's hair and tucks it behind his ear.
'You look so lovely today. Do you want me to get the kids?'
'If you wouldn't mind?' David says, stepping into Michael's arms and kissing his cheek softly.
'Not at all. Will you make lasagna?'
'Sure.'
-
Michael stays long after dinner. It's fine, everyone's used to it by now. He's got his own toothbrush in the guest bathroom. And if he doesn't always sleep alone in the guest bedroom, well, that's just between Michael and him (and sometimes Georgia).
David kisses Georgia good night and she leans into Michael to also kiss him good night. It still amazes David that this is working and it's fine, she hasn't left him yet and shows no inclination to do so. Instead she smiles at them both, before turning around.
'Don't be loud, or I will post that picture. I'm dead tired.'
'Promise,' David replies and mimes zipping his lips which only earns him an eye roll from his wife. His beautiful, perfect wife, who's gonna spend the night alone so he can spend it with his. Boyfriend? Lover? Partner.
When they're changed and cuddled up, the only source of light the fluorescent stars that the kids had insisted on sticking to the ceiling above the bed, David shifts slightly so he can look vaguely down at Michael resting his head on David's chest. He cards his fingers into the soft curls and presses a kiss to Michael's head.
'Did you really change your name to mine?' he murmurs, contemplating how easy it sometimes can be to become someone else but stay the same nonetheless. How he's had to change his name twice and how his whole family has taken that name, made it real that way, for him, and now Michael has done the same, even if only as a joke.
'Don't worry. Everyone thinks it was hilarious. I've already changed it back, too. What really made the joke was the eggplant, though.' Michael chuckles.
David groans. 'Whyyy?'
'Because,' Michael says, punctuation clearly audible, 'it's funny. I know you know how to properly send sexy messages, and you know it, but they don't. They still tag me in that interview regularly, you know? It's all rather hilarious, don't you think?'
'Hmh.'
'What?'
'Nothing!' David says, a bit more emphatically than he meant to. Michael rolls to the side, David's fingers slipping from his hair.
'Hey. I'm sorry. Come back.' He tries to sound as inviting as he can, gently tugging at Michael's shoulders. It seems to work and he sighs happily when he's got Michael back in his arms. Back where he belongs, David thinks suddenly, and wishes they could just be like this forever. One big, happy family, because that really is what they've become. It's extraordinary, but it doesn't feel like it. It's feels right and, yes, astonishing, but nevertheless normal.
'And your password, it's really my birthday?' he asks.
Michael hums his assent into David's arm. His warm breath tickles where it catches on the dark hair on David's forearm. That's nice. Michael is drawing patterns on his skin and peppering small kisses all over his hand, his wrist, and up to his elbow. That's also nice. But something is stuck in the back of his head. Something he wants to ask but maybe ought not to. Or is it the other way round?
'Can I ask you something potentially very stupid and mood-ruining?'
'That's my line, but go on,' Michael says, his smile invisible to David in this light but clearly there.
'Okay, just. Think about it. I know it's stupid because it's not even halfway possible and it's not like I'm making a proposal here, but if I could, if we could…' he trails off, thinking no, he can't ask that, he's got no right. But Michael bumps his head against David's shoulder, making a noise that says go on, don't worry, I'm here with you and suddenly, he can.
'Would you want to marry me?' David asks, and holds his breath.
The last time he'd asked that question - and meant it, not playing a part - he had been on his knees, full of hope and surrounded by wrapping paper. He'd had a ring and the right music playing and he'd been pretty sure of the answer before even asking.
This time, it's only Michael and the darkness around them and the sound of his surprised gasp and then nothing. David breathes out deliberately, evenly, in part to break the silence, in part to mask the hammering of his heart against his rib-cage (and thus, Michael's face). He can feel his hands shaking and laces his fingers together in an attempt to still them. Michael covers them with his hand, holding.
'Yeah,' he says, finally.
'Please Michael, I know it's not real and it's stupid but if it was. If it wasn't. Can we pretend for a moment?'
'Yes,' Michael repeats, as calm and collected as before, with no uncertainty.
'You didn't even think about it,' David complains, aware of how petulant he must sound but somehow, somehow this is important and he can't have Michael just brush this off.
'I did. You have no idea, no idea, how much I thought about it. I love you. I want to be with you. And yes, I do. Want to marry you. If that were in any way possible, that is.'
Michael wiggles free of his embrace to turn on the bedside lamp. He leans over David to take his face in his hands and kiss him softly and it kills David, the sheen of tears in Michael's eyes he can now clearly see.
'My darling,' he whispers, brushing his thumb over Michael's cheek. 'So if gave you a ring-' he starts, waiting for Michael to look at him again, 'Would you wear it? Just for me? Just so I could say, even if only to myself, that you're mine? Not mine alone, of course, I have no right to ask that. Especially not I. But mine, nevertheless.'
Michael nods. 'I would. And I've been yours for a long time now.'
'As I have been yours. I love you so fucking much, Michael, do you know that?' And now it's him who's actually crying. Embarrassing, is what it is. And Michael just stares at him.
'Well?' David prompts with a helpless laugh
'I think-' Michael starts, tracing the path of his tears with his thumbs, then his lips. 'I think I'm beginning to know it,' Michael whispers and smiles at David.