Work Text:
“And so I told Lily that I’d love to go, but--”
“But One Direction’s not your type?”
“Exactly!”
“So what did she say?”
“Oh my god, don’t tell me she’s taking Joel now.”
“Yup.”
“Ugh, I hate her.”
“Florence, do you have any idea know how much people would kill to go to their comeback tour?”
“Last time I checked, I’m not forty.”
Dan hears the sounds of their laughter echoing from the kitchen as he walks through the door and takes off his coat, snickering fondly at his daughter’s snarky remarks. He sees the four girls sat on the counter feasting on a bag of Doritos.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Jo, you have the taste of a middle-aged woman.”
“Preach.”
“Oh, I’m sorry my taste isn’t refined enough, little miss my-dad’s-a-big-time-music-producer-and-therefore-exposes-me-to-freaking-indie-gangster-rap.”
“Hey, what do you have against indie gangster rap?” Dan interjects.
The girls whip around, eyes wide. “Hi, Mr. Howell!”
“Hello, ladies.”
“Hey, dad.” Florence walks over to give him a peck on the cheek.
“Hi, Flor-cakes.”
She blushes at the nickname. (That she secretly loves.) “Dad.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll go!”
As Dan walks through the glass kitchen doors, Florence’s friends giggle.
“God, I forgot how cute your Dad is.”
“Ew, Jo, he is not.”
“He's just so pretty.”
“Oh my god. Stop. I don’t talk about any of your dads like this.”
“Yes, because none of our dads look like that.”
“Christ, get out of my home.”
The girls’ “whispering,” as it turns out, was not whispering at all. “Do they realize we can hear them from here?” Phil mutters after giving his husband a chaste mwah on the lips.
Dan chuckles. “Every dad’s dream to be talked about like that, really.”
“The sad thing is you’re not even joking, you creep.”
“Shut up. How was your day, love?” They’re nestled on the couch, Phil typing on his laptop as Dan props his socked feet onto the coffee table.
“Fine. How’d that meeting go?”
“Meh. Remind me again why I’m the only one who has to work on Saturdays?”
“Those angsty teens need that music, Dan. You’ve got to keep them happy. Wait. No. Keep them...moody?”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Phil.”
“You’re very welcome. Call me Phil Winfrey.”
Dan laughs, tucking his face onto the crook of Phil’s neck. Just as he’s about to drift off in such a comfortable position, he feels his husband’s neck vibrating as he whispers, “we have an audience.”
Dan shifts around just in time to see four heads disappearing back into the kitchen, the gaggle of giggles impossible not to hear.
“Your parents are so sweet.”
“Would you guys stop ogling at my dads?”
“Aw, come on, Florence! My parents are never that adorable.”
“God, why am I friends with you people?”