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"Phil, camera's set up!" Dan yelled from across the garden.
"I'm right here, you don't have to scream!"
Dan jumped, startled at the voice of equal volume. He was already nervous enough about this plan. How long was Phil standing there, watching him fiddle with his pockets?
"How long have you been there?" Dan asked, totally normally (and not at all suspiciously).
"Like, a second? Jeez, you're jittery today!" He giggled.
Because of course he giggled. He giggled like he always giggled: with perfectly squinted eyes and perfectly blushed cheeks and a perfectly-fucking-perfect tongue poking out- oh, shit. He's asking something.
"What?"
"I said, you got the ring... Mr. Lester?" Phil questioned with a devilish smirk.
Dan panicked for a minute, wondering how the hell he knew before remembering the only reason they were outside on a perfectly good day to stay inside and do nothing: a proposal prank. Right.
He responded, "Oh, um, yep! Yup. Got it right here!" while grabbing whatever he could out of his pockets, making the easy task look like a juggling routine.
Phil looked at the small box with furrowed brows and a head tilted ever-so-slightly to the right.
Dan panicked (again). "What?"
"I thought we were using a green ring box. No?"
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Wrong pocket. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Everything would be fine, however, because Dan was a seasoned comedian and improviser. He was a professional one, at that. So all he had to do was calmly-
"Haha! Silly me! I guess I got my colors mixed up again! Green and yellow, now green and black. When will it end!?" He asked Phil, aggressively shaking his fists toward whichever God made him this much of a moron.
Phil looked at Dan, clearly too tired to question the oddities.
"Sure, man. Sure." He laughed, walking to their first position so they could get the April Fools skit over and done with.
If this were a cartoon, Dan would have let out an exasperated "Phew!" while wiping one singular bead of sweat from his forehead. Unfortunately, this was not a cartoon, therefore the "phew" was much more internal and the sweat was in far greater quantities than one singular bead. Goddamn you, twin-tail tux.
Yeah. That's why he's sweating. Sure.
"Alright, Danny boy. Let's give Tumblr some more revenue!"
As Dan turned a perfect 180° and saw the love of his life standing in their shared garden, a wave of calm rushed over him. Oh. Right. This isn't a murder trial, and he isn't a lawyer. This is Phil. And Dan. This is Dan and Phil.
When the butterflies of existential dread morphed into butterflies of an excited but anxious white boy, Dan finally gained the courage to smile back before turning to his iPhone, looking at the image of himself as an unengaged man (for the very last time), and clicked the big red button.
They started with Dan dragging a disgruntled Phil in view of the camera, only for Phil to fuck up his very first line on the very first take.
"It's chilly! Why are we inside? I mean-"
This sent them both into a flurry of giggles.
"You twat! We aren't inside!"
"This is why I don't do scripts!" Phil responded, in between gasps of laughter in the cold spring air.
Unbeknownst to Phil, this was all that Dan's stupid, anxious brain needed to finally settle down.
He's got this.
After a remarkable amount of outtakes and flubbed lines later, Dan got on one knee, this time, with the correct ring in the correct pocket.
Left pocket. Left pocket. Left pocket. As long as he says it enough, he won't get it wrong. Left pock- oh. It's time.
As Dan reached into the fabric of the rented tux's pocket and touched the felt of the jewelry that only mattered because they could and not because they had to, sixteen years of Heaven (Hell? Maybe something in between. Purgatory? Let's go with Purgatory) flashed before his eyes. Most of the Hell was abhorrent haircut decision-making and 14-year-old girls with cat whiskers, an iPhone 7, and a dream. Most of the Heaven, though, was flashes of eyes that are not quite blue, not quite green, and not quite yellow, but something else entirely. Flashes of a smile he gets to wake up to every morning, rain or shine. Flashes of lips he has loved for every moment since he turned 18-years-old. Flashes of a modern, current Phil, looking down at him from a standing position. Oh, shit. That one isn't a flash of memory. That's where he currently is. Okay. Okay. It's go time.
"Will you... be my husband?"
"Dan, we have to do it again now! You're supposed to say "phusband", reme- what the fuck is that?"
It didn't take long for them to become giggly, teary-eyed messes who had already forgotten about the camera. And it hadn't even begun!
Moving forward, though, it was hard for either of them to get words out through the incessant laughter and bubbling up emotions.
"Phil-"
"Oh my God. Fuck you."
"I said-"
"What the fuck is that!"
"Will you-"
Dan didn't get the chance to finish the sentence before he was tackled to the ground unceremoniously.
Something about it felt familiar.
"Of course I will, you idiot!" Phil practically shouted at his boyfriend- no, fiancee, as he littered Dan's cheesing face with kisses.
The tears were coming in full force now, for both of them. Kisses began tasting of salt water and love. (Dan would later say that he never had that thought. That thought is too cheesy. But Phil will remember to tease him about it for the rest of their life: til death do they part.)
Dan couldn't remember the last time he was this happy. Maybe it was their fourth day in Vietnam, actually. Or, wait, maybe it was that dinner they went to last September? Oh, who is he kidding. Every time he has been with this tall, blonde, annoying freak has been the happiest moment of his life. Nevertheless, he still had one last thing he needed to do.
"Wait! Stop! Stop attacking me!"
Phil begrudgingly retreated from Dan as they took a minute to catch their breaths, not caring that both of their outfits had enough grass stains to be their own set of dyed green paraphernalia.
Dan took the ring from the box: the real ring from the real box, that is, and shakily moved it towards Phil's left ring finger.
"It's perfect," Phil whispered. He was right. The ring was an ideal amount of 70% Phil and 30% Dan with it's sapphire stone shining brightly through the middle, a black outline of onyx encrusting the gem, and minuscule diamonds on the sides to remind them that their dream life has not only given them their dream partner and their dream job, but their dream salary as well.
"I love you," was whispered at the same exact time from the both of them (because the mental connection has never not been there) before sealing their faces in another teary kiss.
The ring didn't fit perfectly, of course. They'll have to get it sized eventually, but it's okay. They have time. They have all the time in the world.
"Wait, wait, wait. You still have the other ring, right?"
Dan was confused as he was dragged out of his love-potion-esque state. "Huh?"
An answer wasn't needed, however, because Phil knew where the other ring was. Dan looked at him, mouth agape when he realized what Phil had just done.
"Wha," Phil said, mouth too full to completely articulate his words, "ere noh gonna use t, riht?"
Dan decided this would be the perfect time for a revenge tackle.