Work Text:
Well, finding a way to make it sound like a story worth telling was going to be hard.
“...and a Cadbury Crunchie McFlurry – Crunchie.” Silver stressed, leaning outside the car window up to his waist to reach for the McDrive microphone in the dark of the London evening as he tried to make them understood his voice despite the challenge of the distance - which was quite the amusing sight, and Flint might have been keeping closer to the opposite pavement on purpose to force him to stick his whole body out in such a way. Might. But after a whole weekend together at the seaside every kind of mischievous action towards Silver was justified, especially because he knew exactly what mockery he had in mind despite his protests, had known it since he had suggested grabbing something to eat on the way home instead of having to cook something in the middle of the night.
“A Crunchie one.” The metallic voice repeated from the other side of the microphone: “Understood.”
“It’s very important that it’s the crunchie one, don’t Mcfuck up or he will-“
“Get back inside idiot.” Flint grunted pulling his t-shirt and dragging him back inside the car, feeling his cheeks turn redder as Silver smirked devilishly bumping on the seat: “Do you have to do that every time?”
“Of course. I will be decomposing in my grave before I stop spreading the tale of you shouting at a McDonald employee because of an ice-cream.”
“I was drunk.”
“It doesn’t make it any less funny.” He smiled, resting his feet on the dashboard while Flint slowly followed the car in front of them to the next window, with his fingers tangled in his curls and a smile on his face. Even though Brighton was always Brighton and they had just managed to get a glimpse of the sun at all his skin had turned a slightly darker shade, and his hair was messier than usual because of the salt water he had not bothered washing away from it. He looked beautiful – he always did, much better than Flint did now that his skin was starting to turn into an achingly bright shade of red that looked like “a lobster’s shell”, as Silver had commented (which was one of the main reasons why he was absolutely adamant on not expressing his thoughts about how good he looked not even under torture).
“But it was fun. It was a fun night- well, broken legs aside.” Silver considered thoughtfully: “We didn’t even spend that much time in the E.R. waiting room all considered.”
“That’s because your ass is lucky. Had it been you the first one to fall you would have broken your legs as well and you wouldn't have found it that fun.”
“That’s why one should always climb first.” he hummed playing distractedly with one of his curls as a spotty boy handed him the first brown bag to inspect: “Bacon and fries. Yours.”
“Your selflessness is touching, as always.” Flint snorted as he shrugged and took one of his fries.
“I have to preserve my health. I cannot leave you alone in this world – what would happen to you if I died or left, have you ever thought about that?”
Flint had, obviously. He had spent more time than what he was comfortable sharing with Silver thinking about it, because for all the love he had for him Silver was hardly one to settle calmly and in his mind the remote but real possibility that one day for some reason Flint would have had to cope with an empty house and him gone was always present. He didn’t exactly fear one day he would have suddenly disappeared without leaving any trace behind, but if there was something James Flint and James McGraw before him had learnt well it was that things always changed regardless of how hard one tried to stop them from doing it.
But he only answered with an “I would manage.” under his breath, and then asked: “What would you do if it was me the one who suddenly disappeared? You don’t even have a driving license.”
“I would hire a chauffeur.”
“You can’t afford it.” He pointed out, apparently taking Silver by surprise. He froze with the fry between his fingers a few inches from his mouth as if Flint had just revealed him a hidden truth he had never thought about.
“I am not planning to leave or die, relax. It was just a joke.“
“I know. I was thinking.” He answered with his eyes open wide but without looking at Flint, as he always did when he was too busy thinking to acknowledge someone else’s presence. Then after a long pause he declared: “We should get married.”
“Yeah, sure.” Flint snorted, feeling the impulse to honk to remind the spotty guy they were still waiting. He turned to check if the boy was still there, and met Silver’s gaze.
He was not smiling, he was not joking- he looked serious.
He suddenly felt like oxygen was being drained out of his lungs.
“We should get married.” Silver repeated, with his eyes brightening up as he spoke: “Don’t you think?”
He opened his mouth to answer, realizing how dry it felt and that he couldn’t remember how to speak at all. He couldn’t say whether he was playing a joke on him or was serious, but it was- it couldn’t be serious.
“You want to marry me because you need to be able to afford a chauffeur if I die?”
“No, idiot- we should get married period. We’ve been living together for four years, I’d say we can safely say we plan to stay together for, well, forever, don’t we?”
Said out loud it sounded weird, for how true it could be, and Flint's mind had gone at the same time blank and too busy processing what was happening.
“It’s not about that.” he protested weakly, in the end, realizing by himself how stupid it sounded: "It's-"
“What is it then?” Silver asked, so candidly and easily like it was the simplest and most logical thing in the world when instead it wasn’t – it fucking wasn’t, even though Flint couldn’t say why not. He just knew it wasn’t, and Silver’s smile was misplaced.
“We are in a drive-through. Waiting for a hamburger.”
“Would you prefer me to get down on my left knee and hold your delicate hand? I can do it if you want.” Silver assured him, though the mere image made Flint cringe to his bones and shake his head feeling embarrassed just for picturing it.
“No, God no- I don’t want that, I just- why? Why now?” he asked. It was the only question he was able to think of – not because he had anything against getting married, he had merely never thought about it before. Ever. Not even the thought of marrying Thomas had ever crossed his mind, and now...
But Silver shrugged, and again it seemed so easy. So effortless Flint couldn’t think of a reason why he should refuse.
“Why not? Why tomorrow?” he asked, and then with the same carelessness he patted his thigh and said: “Look, I’m not saying we have to, or I want to at all costs. It’s cool if you don’t want to, it was just an idea.”
Even though he genuinely sounded like he did not care and focused back on the fries, the idea of a refusal left a sour taste in Flint's mouth. Those freaking blue eyes shoved the "no" he was thinking of down in his throat, and he found himself shrug.
"Perhaps you are right, why not." He agreed in the end, feeling his hand shaky as he run it through his hair.
Silver raised his head to stare at him surprised, silence falling between them.
"So is that a yes?"
"Yes, alright, let's do it- I don't have anything better to do for the next months anyway." He answered struggling to keep his voice calm and low and to hide the uncomfortable sensation he was feeling in his stomach, like a sort of quiet anxiety for something that he knew was a big thing but, however, it wasn't truly about him.
Perhaps because it was happening in a freaking drive through with his car smelling like French fries, he reckoned.
"But just a small thing, like, we could simply go to the city hall and sign some papers. Nothing too big."
"Of course."
"Although this way we wouldn't get anything. No money, no presents. That would be a pity - we could ask our guests to pay us a whole trip around the world."
"I'm starting to believe you want to get married for all the wrong reasons now." Flint said raising an eyebrow and realising Silver was staring at him with a wide grin.
"What?"
"We are engaged." He sounded like he was on the verge of bursting into a fit of laughter: "It's so fucking weird- have you ever imagined that one day we would have got married?"
He looked at him up and down, from the curls to the fry hanging from the side of his mouth, and pondered whether to say out loud what he was thinking - but before he could open his mouth he was promptly interrupted by spotty boy that shoved his arm out of the window, holding another brown bag that Silver caught promptly.
"Thank you- Crunchie Mcflurry, right? You don't want to McFuck with this man do you?"
No, he definitely would have never imagined it. Definitely.