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friendandphoe · 1 year

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TWO DAYS LATE BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY @ahbonjour I LOVE YOU HAVE SOME NEW MOVIE HOUSE BRAINROT

also @museumlad and @creativeskull95 you may also enjoy this have fun

David calls Donnie at 2:37 pm on a completely nondescript Tuesday with a brisk, "I have a proposition for you," in lieu of a hello.

"Shit, babe, let me grab the condoms and the lube, I can be at your place in fifteen." Donnie says, because his mouth moves faster than his brain and both of them hate him.

David's eye roll is practically audible over the phone, but so is his smile when he responds, "I'd literally rather fling myself into the fires of Mount Doom than get anywhere near your dick ever again. No, doofus, I've got a work thing. Interested?"

"God, yes." Donnie groans. Thank someone David Peterson is his best friend before his anything else and is used to the shit that comes out of Donnie's mouth. "I told you about my new set, right?"

"I thought you said you didn't have anything."

"Because I don't, Dave. The new set is a whole lot of nothing. I've been tearing my hair out for weeks trying to think of stuff, my brain is, like, fully fried at this point."

David snorts. "What, our breakup didn't give you any material to work with?"

Donnie blows a raspberry, flinging an arm over his eyes even though Lark's been gone for, like, a week doing some business bitch shit and isn't around to see his dramatics. "Do me a favor and be more of an asshole so I can actually pull something out of it. There's nothing funny about an amicable break up."

"Statistically, between the two of us, you're more likely to be the asshole about it." David points out. "Write a joke about how you jumped on the chance to fuck as soon as you heard my voice."

Donnie has. Many of them. None of them have lived to see the light of day. "You propositioned me, motherfucker. You literally said, 'I have a proposition for you' and expected me to not take that in a fucky direction?"

David snorts again. "Go get laid and then maybe we can progress past two sentences without you thinking I want to bone down."

All half-formed jokes about this conversation immediately fly out of his head. "David," Donnie begs. "I will literally pay you whatever you want to have you never say the words 'bone down' in reference to sex ever again."

"I am only ever going to call it boning down from now on." David says immediately, because he's an asshole. Not enough of one to use as material for a good comedy set, but to be honest, Donnie thinks he can live with that. He’ll gladly settle for missing out on comedy gold because of a peaceful breakup if it means he gets to keep his best friend. "I think you should bone down so that you stop thinking that I'm trying to bone down with you. I’m just an innocent business boy trying to do my job—"

Never fucking mind, this man is terrible and Donnie hates him. "Oh my god."

"—and here you are sullying my good-natured intentions with thoughts of boning down—"

"Stoooop."

"—when all I've ever tried to do is live by the eternal words of our lord and savior Britney Spears. I just want to work, bitch. All my long nights at the office, all my running around trying to find you, my dearest friend, a well-paying gig, because even though our amorous relations have since ended I still hold you near to my heart, and yet! You scorn my kindness with advances towards boning down.”

"I'm dying. Literally dying."

“Distasteful behavior, truly. Horrendous. You’re a rake and a rapscallion and I shan’t do business with you anymore if you’re only going to lust after me the whole time. ‘Tis a futile endeavor, Donaldo. Your feelings are simply unrequited. I daresay you have transformed into what is known in some circles as a simp. Do you know what a simp is, D? I learned that one like a week ago. You’re down bad tremendous, as the kids might say. Bone down tremendous, even."

"I'm gonna — I'm hanging up, Peterson."

"Alright, fuck you then, I don't have a job offer for you."

Donnie whines. "Nooo, Davey my Davey, I didn't mean it, let me pay rent this month."

“Are you going to listen to me talk about internet slang.” David says, punctuating each word with a clap.

“No, because it’s, like, basically all AAVE and I bet you literally anything that Lark and my mom have been saying that shit for years.”

David snorts. “I would pay good money to hear your mom use the word ‘simp’ in a sentence.”

Donnie laughs. “Pay up, then, that’s Black 90s shit."

"Goddammit, internet," David mutters, and Donnie's phone chimes.

"Goddammit, internet," he agrees, pulling away to check whatever notification just came in. Venmo: David Peterson paid you $30. — Reparations — Your Venmo balance is now $30. "Alright, you're forgiven."

"God bless and goodnight," David says dryly. "Can I give you this goddamn job offer now."

Donnie waves a hand airily. David will sense it through the phone. "See, if you'd started with that instead of 'I have a proposition'—"

"Donnie."

"Shutting up now. Blow me away, Peterson."

David clears his throat and puts on his Business Professional voice. "Donnie Frasier, on behalf of Love Productions USA, I would like to formally offer you a position as presenter on the reboot of The Great American Baking Show."

Donnie jolts up, eyes wide. "Shut up. You're joking."

"I am not."

"DAVID."

"Mhmm." David hums, smug as hell. "We're location scouting right now, but once we have that settled we'll fly you in so you can get acquainted with the crew while we're holding baker auditions. Once we've found our twelve and they're signed on, you'll stay on-location for an additional ten weeks while we're filming. You're looking at a period of about, uh, maybe fifteen to sixteen weeks total? Just the one season for now, but, y'know, contract is open to renewal depending on ratings and reception. Food and board are included, and we're probably working with your regular rate, but I'll have to double check our budget with Jay. Obviously you know Lark has already signed on as a judge, we just got George Fox of 'the Corporal Cooks' on as the other judge—"

"DAVID!"

"I'm producing, natch, James Matsuki is with me on that — him and Fox have someone in mind for, uh. Shit, either floor manager or director, I don't remember, but Lark and I wanted to recommend you for presenter. We're trying to get Mags Taylor to go on with you—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP."

"—provided you accept." David finishes, like it would ever cross Donnie’s mind to refuse. "You wanna hear who else we have for crew? I've actually worked with a lot of them on other projects, they're good people."

"Absolutely fucking not, I'm in, I'm in, I was already in as soon as you opened your beautiful perfect mouth! David!" Donnie hollers, scrambling up and out of bed and down the hall into his kitchen, flinging his laptop open with feral desperation. "Did you — I have to — does Susan know, I have to email Susan —"

David huffs. "Who do you think I am? I emailed Susan about it like three days ago, she said to go to you directly."

"THREE DAYS?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Donald."

"YOU HELD OUT ON ME FOR THREE DAYS, DAVARIAH?" Donnie bellows, whipping through his inbox. There's a handful of offers from venues to host him for shows, an update on the ongoing thread from his tour manager — there! The sacred [email protected], nestled right underneath what might be a fan that somehow got a hold of his professional email address.

"Tell Susan to respond to me faster, then." David says mildly, rustling something on his end of the call.

"Leave my poor sweet Susan alone, she's done nothing wrong ever in her life and it's not her fault you never loved me." Donnie fires back, scanning through Susan's summary of the offer — same shit David was telling him, minus any name dropping, thank you best friend/ex-boyfriend perks. He replies with a very enthusiastic ABSOLUTELY HELL YES, which will not surprise Susan in the slightest. "Not even Susan can warm the frozen tundras of your heart."

David sighs, long and heavy. "You're such a fucking drama queen. I'm going to write a guide for your next partner, so they know how to deal with you."

"That's — fair, honestly. Make a note on my fabulous ass and sparkling personality, though."

"What sparkling personality," David mutters, but clears his throat back into Business Professional. "So, Donnie Frasier, do you accept the offer?"

Donnie pauses. "Am I allowed to have 'fuck yeah' on the record?"

David hangs up on him.

~*~

They've only been separated for three weeks, but Lark's airport tackle makes Donnie feel like he's returning from World War 2.

"You're in!" Lark screams, ignoring the affronted looks they're getting from the other people meandering out of baggage claim.

Donnie squeezes hard around her waist and pulls her up, spinning her around twice for good measure. It never hits him just how much he misses his sister until they're reunited. "I'm in!" He yells back, and relishes the scandalized cough they get from the white lady brushing past them.

Somewhere off to their right, someone laughs. "Twinth, huh?"

"Twins," David agrees, and clears his throat. "Y'all ready to go?"

They're not, but Donnie knows how to compromise. He sets Lark back down in her feet and wraps an arm around her shoulders, grinning wildly at her as they set out. "Look at you!"

"Look at me!" Lark agrees, beaming back. She looks great — she's switched out her locs for twists and her blue sundress pops against her dark skin, and yeah, that's great, but underneath it all, she's glowing. She looks happy, she looks proud, she looks like a big fuckin' dead weight asshole has finally been kicked to the curb, thank God. There's a bounce in her that he hasn't seen in months, that he — and he would never say this out loud to anyone ever, not even their mom — worried she would never get back.

He loves her so much. He's going to vomit in all her shoes.

"Tell me everything," he demands, graciously letting her pull his suitcase out of his hands. "Did he cry? Tell me he cried."

David, whose relationship with Donnie overlapped the middle of The Brandon Saga, chooses this moment to start very loudly debating directions with the dark-haired guy he brought along. Donnie will give him the most platonic of high-fives for it later.

"Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy." Lark says airily, which means not here, not now. "How's it feel to have a big boy job, though?"

Donnie is a mature, upstanding, tax-paying adult and refrains from sticking his tongue out at his beloved twin sister. "I actually turned down Netflix to come do this dinky lil baking show with you, Birdie, so you better be fuckin' grateful."

"I've been blessed by your presence," Lark says immediately, bumping their shoulders together. "You should be on Netflix, by the way, it's total bullshit you're not. Like, I'm so glad we're doing this together, but—"

"No, you know what?" Donnie cuts in, giving her a little squeeze. "I'm excited about it. I'm taking a comedy sabbatical and I'm gonna do nothing but eat cupcakes and make you miserable on set and it's gonna be great. Netflix can eat my entire ass, honestly."

Ahead of them, David's friend snorts, breaking off the direction debate to walk backwards through the revolving door. Donnie is thoroughly impressed. "From what I heard, Netflix is more of a 'no lube no aftercare' kind of lover. Executiveth, you know? They jutht wanna fuck you over and then roll over and go to thleep." The guy eyes Donnie up and down in a way that makes him roll his shoulders back and stand up straighter. Lark what the fuck taps him in the ribs and he shut the fuck up bumps her knee. Sue him, he’s a disaster bi and weak to authoritative gazes. She knows this already. “Your work’th incredible, though, I thaw one of your thows a couple yearth ago and I wath crying laughing. If Netflix doethn’t want you, that’th their loth.”

Donnie responds in the only reasonable fashion: he fans a hand in front of his face and swoons heavily against Lark, who cheerfully ducks out from beneath his arm and lets him stumble into a trashcan. “Keep talking like that and we’re going right to the bathroom, stranger.” He purrs, and they laugh, clear and pleasant. “Normally I make people buy me dinner before rawdogging me in public, but I can always make an exception.”

David suddenly whirls around from where he'd been leading the procession, brows furrowed tightly behind his glasses. “I fully forgot y’all don’t know each other.” He says, like it’s inconceivable to exist in a world where his friends don’t all run in the same social circles.

Donnie shrugs and holds out a hand. "I just assumed you kidnapped someone with a bigger car, T-B-H. Donnie Frasier, he/him. What's up?"

The stranger takes his hand and shakes, but keeps a severe facial expression. "I'm actually airport polithe, I'm here to inthpect your luggage for ilithit thubthtanthes," they say seriously, holding Donnie's gaze for two, three, four beats before cracking a grin. "Ethan Thtone, altho he/him, head of wardrobe and rethident big car boy."

"Fuckin' rub it in," David mutters, and lets Ethan swat him.

"I don't wanna hear anything from the man who dethided to thqueeze hith theven-foot ath into a clown car." Ethan says, cementing his place as Donnie's new favorite. “Go be useful and get Karen, I wanna thmooze. My car,” he answers as Donnie’s opening his mouth to ask the question.

“Why?”

“Because she’s old and white and complains the entire time!” David yells over his shoulder, disappearing into the parking lot with Ethan’s keyring.

Ethan makes an affronted noise. “He’th thuch a jerk,” he mutters, but there’s something fond tugging at the corners of his mouth as he says it.

“He’s single, you know,” Donnie blurts out, because his mouth continues to move faster than his brain and they both continue to hate him. He lets Lark smack him in the arm with a gleeful “Donnie!” because yeah, fair.

Ethan goes bright red, and he laughs nervously. “Oh, uh — yeah, I know. We, uh, actually worked together while, uh, y’all were thtill — a thing? Tho, uh. I know. I jutht think he’s cute, though, I’m not trying to, like, move in on anything—”

“God, please,” Donnie laughs, patting Ethan on the back. “He’s my best friend, but like. That ship done sailed, my dude. No hard feelings over here if you wanna, y’know.”

“Mount. Climb aboard. Cast off.” Lark supplies helpfully, grinning gleefully as Ethan turns redder and redder with every word. “Thank fuck you’re here now, Ducky, I felt like I was losing my mind watching them try to flirt.”

“We weren’t flirting.” Ethan protests weakly. Lark raises an eyebrow at him. “Honetht! I’m a terrible flirt.”

“So’s David,” the twins say in unison. Ethan groans and buries his face in his hands, muttering something under his breath that might be “abtholutely fuck me”.

Lark ignores him. “I’ve been telling him that Davey is available, too, he kept insisting he didn’t want to make things weird with you coming onto the project—”

Donnie emphatically waves his hands. “Fuck no! I mean, I for sure wanna get some popcorn and watch the show, but, like, from the point-five seconds I’ve known you—”

“Yeth, pleathe, let’th talk credentialth,” Ethan says desperately.

“What? No.” Donnie says, gesturing at Ethan’s everything with a raised eyebrow. “You’re cute, you dress well, you like my jokes, you don’t let David intimidate you even though you like him, I trust you already. You’ll be great, I’m excited to work with you, blah blah blah. Like, feel free to stop me if you’re legit uncomfortable, but—”

“Remember what I said before, E?” Lark interrupts, patting Ethan’s back. “About Donnie being a professional meddler?”

Donnie nods in satisfaction. “I am a professional meddler. Please let me meddle, we’ll bond and become best friends and ruin David’s life. It’ll be so good.”

Ethan looks up at the sky. Donnie doesn’t know why; if anyone’s up there, they know better than to mess with Donnie Frasier when he’s on a mission. “If I thay yeth,” he says uncertainly, and the twins immediately swivel like sharks smelling blood. “Can we at leatht be thubtle about it?”

Lark winces, looking at her brother. “Tall order, Ducky. Think you can handle it?”

Donnie flips her off with one hand and holds out the other for Ethan to hesitantly shake. “Ethan Stone,” he says solemnly. “This is going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Ethan still vaguely looks like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. “I mean it, though, I’m really a terrible flirt.”

Donnie looks at his sister. “Vibe check?”

“Drama club Peggy circa 2016.”

Donnie stares in horror. “Please tell me it’s not the same vibes.”

Lark claps three times. Donnie throws his head back and cackles. Ethan looks like he’s about two seconds away from climbing into the sewer and living his best ninja turtle life. “It’th not — I don’t even know what that meanth, I’m not, like — thtop — thtop laughing, I’m theriouth—” But he’s grinning despite himself, because Donnie’s never once been able to hold a mildly uncomfortable conversation with someone without making them laugh, and he’s not about to break his streak now with all these fancy new TV people to impress.

“Ethan,” Donnie sighs, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes and slinging an arm over his new best friend’s shoulders. “I’m going to hook you guys up so hard. I cannot wait.”

A white Toyota pulls up in front of them, hazards on, and David climbs out of the driver’s side, half-jogging over to grab Donnie’s bags and shove ‘em in the trunk. “Everything okay?” He asks, mostly to Ethan, who’s beginning to match the color of the beret David used to wear in college. Donnie wonders if Ethan knows about the beret. Donnie desperately needs Ethan to know about the beret.

“Fine,” he and Ethan say at the same time, in wildly different tones of voice.

David gives Donnie A Look. “What are you doing to my wardrobe head?”

“Irreversibly changing the course of your lives,” Donnie says cheerfully, rubbing Ethan’s shoulder.

“Fucking delightful.” David sighs, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, I wanna get back to the hotel by five and you’ve still got a shitload of people to meet. Do not let Donnie bully you into anything you don’t wanna do,” he says to Ethan, just loud enough that Donnie can reasonably make a comment about it.

And he will. “You’ll thank me for this one day, boyos.” He says haughtily, and Lark laughs loudly, shoving him into the backseat of the Toyota and climbing in after him. She squeezes his hand hard as they’re settling in: I missed you. He squeezes back and grins at her. Missed you more.

David buckles himself into the driver’s seat and meets his gaze in the rearview mirror. “As long as you keep whatever shenanigans you’re planning off Jay and Alexa’s radars, I’ll do whatever you want, dude, I don’t give a single shit.”

Lark pulls out her phone to text someone. “Kinky,” she comments, grinning as David sputters in the front seat. “In front of Ethan and the entire airport and God, too? Fuck it up, my guy.”

“I’m in hell.” David deadpans, and pulls out towards the airport exit.

#HAP BIRTH OTTO I LOVE YOU #this is. not the last of mh gbbo au there is More To Come #im also using this opportunity to fix everything wrong with gbbo I Can Run It Better #also the rundown is: lark and fox are judges. donnie and mags are hosts. david and jaimey are producers.#ethan is wardrobe. juno is hair/makeup. alexa is floor manager/director. toby is social media manager. brandon is in jail where he belongs #this is a brandon hate account first and foremost #i might toss in various other vague MH ocs as crew and/or bakers we'll see how it goes #also might toss in Us as crew and/or bakers we'll see how it goes #ANYWAY IM SORRY THIS WAS LATE I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY I GIVE YOU A GENTLE SMORCH AND ESCAPE INTO THE NIGHT #gonna go do my own baking bc i promised my mom mini hand held apple pies like 3 days ago and i failed to deliver. so.#movie house #gbbo au #all of them #shut up phoenix

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friendandphoe · 3 years

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/sliding back onto tumblr like what up new year new name new pronouns new movie house

anyway hi y’all it’s ya boy Phoenix back at it again with the donexa brainrot pls enjoy @ahbonjour @museumlad @creativeskull95

There are days — plenty of them — when the distant disbelief doesn't quite fade from Alexa's eyes. She stares around their apartment like she doesn't recognize the furniture she'd spent agonizing hours choosing, her photo prints they'd painstakingly hung in straight rows with their award certificates neatly organized into a binder on the bookshelf, the four to seven stained coffee cups that perpetually clutter her work desk. She's withdrawn and snappy and eager to start a fight at any given opportunity, and the only touch she'll accept from him is rough and unyielding. She taunts him the whole way through, goading him to tug her sharper, press harder, use her until he's satisfied without sparing her a second thought. "Because then I know I'm at least good for something," she'd explained the morning after that first rough night, crunching away on a dry handful of Fruit Loops like it didn't break his heart to hear how little she thinks of herself.

But there are days — more and more frequent now, and Donnie's so fucking grateful for it — when she gives him an earbud to pass judgement on her latest editing project; when she wraps her arms around his waist and clings to him while he's cooking dinner; when he can hear her laughing from the couch because she's FaceTiming David and the motherfucker is funny. Sometimes she hangs out in the hallway for an extra twenty minutes, chatting with the neighbors about mindless shit even though she's got groceries that need to be put away. She's been loudly declaring that their next bathroom cannot and will not be so goddamn small, which makes his heart sing in all the best ways possible because it means she's thinking of the future — of their future, together. He'll come back from work to find her in the middle of a pile of their friends because she felt lonely. And there are days when she stays in bed an extra hour and tugs him close to her any time he makes a move like he wants to get out, whispering into his collarbone that she's not okay, can he please just hold her a little while longer. He picks up his ringing cell phone and it'll be Jaimey on the other end, asking how they've been and what's new. Alexa holds his hand the whole time they're grocery shopping these days, even when she's scolding him for sneaking in snacks they both hate just because he knows it'll get a rise out of her. And more often than not now, he's allowed to love her softly, sweetly, reverently, the way he wants to — the way she deserves.

"Lacey says it's never going to fully go away," Alexa had told him in the dairy aisle during a late-night grocery run, staring hard at the Greek yogurt like it held the secrets to finally uprooting her deep-seated assumption that one day, they're all going to get tired of her and leave her behind like everyone else in her life did.

He'd kissed her cheek, let her flinch away from him, because that had been a bad day and he'd known even then it was less about him and more about the poisonous fog in his girlfriend's head. "Yeah, well, neither am I." He'd promised, because even when she'd turned to snap that he doesn't fucking know that, don't say stupid shit, he knew he was in it for the long haul.

"Hey," he says now, almost two full years later, and drops a kiss on her bare shoulder.

She shifts ever so slightly underneath him, exhausted and nearly cross-eyed from everything he's done to her, because tonight was a soft, sad night and he wasn't about to focus on anything besides making sure she knew she was loved and wanted, but she still manages the tiniest of smiles for him. "Hey."

Fuck, he can feel his own smile, stupidly fond, stretching across his cheeks, wide enough to hurt in the best possible way. He is so soft for this girl. "I love you so much."

And her cheeks flush dark again, but she hums in acknowledgement and tugs gently on a loc. "I love you," she says, and starts crying.

"Oh, babe —" he says, grin fading, and he reaches down to cup her face, kiss away the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just — it's hard to believe this is real sometimes, you know?" She traces over the lines she'd scratched into his shoulders, and he says nothing because yeah, fuck, he knows. This long in the game, he knows. "I didn't ever think I would get this."

He kisses the scars twisting across her cheek. "Hey, love, you got it."

And despite everything, despite the slow, sweet night and the progress she'd made even since they first met, Alexa makes a low, frustrated noise in the back of her throat. "Yeah, but — how long."

It's not a question, it never is, but Donnie has a solution. "You wanna List, baby?"

"Fuck. Maybe."

"Okay." He rolls onto his back, pulls her up on top of him so they're pressed chest-to-chest, and trails his fingers down her spine, grounding her as best he can. "Your last project went really well. Your clients loved it. They recommended you to a bunch of their friends and now you're booked all the way through for the next six months. And they sent you a really nice bonus."

She sniffs. "Yeah, they did."

He snakes his hands under her thighs and pulls her up a little higher. She automatically tucks her head under his chin, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head in response. "Lacey said you've been managing your spirals really well. And Jaimey called earlier, wants us to come over for dinner next week."

She hums, tracing circles into his bicep.

Donnie drops his voice to a low rumble. "Toby misses you. She asked me to find out your schedule so she can take you for breakfast soon. David texted you this morning to tell you about some cool gardens he thinks you'll like. Mags is making us mugs with dicks etched on them because they know you think it's funny."

"It is funny," Alexa insists, too exhausted to properly argue, and he huffs out a laugh.

"Yeah, but the point is, you're stuck with us," Donnie says, and blows a raspberry against her hairline to make her laugh. "You've got a whole crew who loves you so fucking much, baby, you're never getting rid of us. Remember how we all fell apart when you flew out to Colorado for that wedding shoot?"

Alexa presses a grin into his collarbone. "I was gone for a week. Less."

"Yeah, and we need you." He scratches at the shaved side of her head with one hand, wrapping the other securely around her waist. "You're funny and smart and a complete enabler as long as you think it won't kill us. You've punched people in the face for messing up Ethan's pronouns. With your bad hand. You're the first person Lark tells anything to. Fox does literally anything you ask him to, I think you're second only to Mags for him. My parents absolutely adore you, they ask about you all the time."

She groans fondly, smacking his shoulder with no real strength behind it, and when she speaks, her voice is much lighter. "Okay, okay, I get it."

But Donnie keeps going, because apparently he's not quite done yet: "I wanna marry you."

Alexa goes completely still on his chest, matching his frozen heartbeat, then peels herself up to stare him right in the eye. "What?"

He closes his eyes, throws his head back in the pillows, and groans deeply. Fuck, okay, it's not like they've never talked about the future before, he's always talked like they're staying together forever and she's been sending him house listings for the past three months, but — "I wasn't supposed to say that. Forget I said anything for the next month."

She smacks him on the shoulder again, and this time it stings a little. "Next month! Donnie!"

"That night market you like opens next month!" He argues, gently shoving at her head. She goes without protest, staring at him the whole time. "Don't look at me right now, oh my god."

"Next month." She repeats, and that might be a shocked smile ghosting her lips. "You want me to wait a whole month?"

"Yeah? I have a plan, I have a whole speech, it's gonna be cute as shit!" Or it would be, if he wasn't weak and incapable of keeping any kind of secret in the wake of Alexa's sad face. "Stop making me talk about it!"

No regerts, says the tattoo on his hip. Maybe some regerts.

"Tell me everything." Alexa breathes, and she's definitely grinning now.

Donnie, meanwhile, is scowling. "Absolutely not. I'm not — I put so much effort into this, I'm not — fuck outta here with your puppy-dog-eye bullshit, you're not getting anything out of me."

"I'll ask David," she threatens, making no effort to move. He doesn't know where her phone is right now, and she doesn't even have her prosthetic on, but he tugs her back down against his chest anyway. "I bet you made a whole group chat to plan it all out."

He raises his eyes to the ceiling. "The fuck I didn't," he says, because it's technically true, but he had absolutely considered it, and he kind of hates that she knows him well enough to guess that. "I cannot believe you're razzing me about this. I'm returning the ring tomorrow morning."

She jolts up and smacks him on the shoulder again. "You have a ring!"

"Oh my god, shut up," he groans, but there's no heat behind it. "What, what's with that face?"

Because Alexa's brow has furrowed over her eyes, and there's a peculiar mix of confusion and concern pressing her lips thin. "I don't — I don't know if I can wear a ring." She says uncertainly, looking at where her left hand is resting on his chest.

"You've got enough of the finger left for rings to go," Donnie points out, because obviously he's thought about this. "And if you can't, or don't want to, you could just wear it on your middle finger, I don't care. But —" because she's opened her mouth to say something. "You like the symbolism of the ring finger, so I did get a chain to go with the ring just in case, 'cause I know you think wedding rings on a necklace is cute. And it would work, so."

She stares at him for a moment, then covers her face, and for the second time tonight his heartbeat stutters, because, fuck, maybe they're out of sync on this one, maybe he's been reading her wrong, maybe it's not time yet or she doesn't want to or never wants to. But she only scrubs at her newly-teary eyes and smiles shy and fragile at him. "You — you really want to." She whispers, and Donnie remembers Truth or Dare on New Year's Eve back in college so fuckin' clearly.

It'd be nice, she'd said, tiny and hollow, resigned to the idea that it was never going to happen. If someone loved me like that.

He breathes deep and forces himself to hold her gaze, trying desperately not to show how nervous he is. "I — fuck, Aleja, I wanna marry you so fucking bad. You're — you're my best friend, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, you make me so stupid in all the best possible ways, I'm —" and he's dipping dangerously close to just reciting his whole damn speech to her right now, but Alexa's shining in the dark, lips curling ever-so-slightly as she looks at him, and fuck him, he's so soft for this girl. He stops, makes sure he's not about to burst into tears, then says: "I'm so fucking in love with you. Of course I want to marry you. If — if you want to."

She collapses back into the crook of his neck, and he pretends not to notice the way she's trembling. "I do," she says, so softly that he would have missed it if her mouth hadn't been right up against his shoulder.

Something in his chest bursts. "Yeah?" He asks, breathless, and he can feel her smiling.

"Yeah." And she twines their left hands together, five against three. "As if I'd say no."

He chokes out a relieved chuckle, squeezing her hand. "You could do better." He admits, dipping his tone just enough that it could be a joke, if they both want it to be one.

But Alexa doesn't rise to the bait, and he loves her. "No I couldn't. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, too."

And yeah, objectively he knows he's been good for her, but hearing it out loud never fails to make him all mushy. "I'm gonna marry the shit outta you, I can't wait," he murmurs into her hair.

"I mean, we can just make it official now," Alexa says innocently, and Donnie's fond smile immediately drops back to a scowl.

"But my plans," he whines, drawing it out just to make her laugh, and she does, which is great, but it doesn't deter her from pushing herself back up to look him in the eye again.

"I can't wait for the plan," she says sincerely, cupping his face in her palm. "I'm not saying get rid of the plan. I'm saying, technically, you already asked and I already said yes." And because she can tell by the look on his face that he's not fully convinced yet, she adds: "I've got three big project deadlines coming up in the next couple weeks anyway, I'm going to immediately forget everything you tell me."

He snorts. "No you won't."

"No I won't." She agrees, giggling. "But consider that the love of my life just told me he wants to marry me, then told me he wants me to wait a whole month, and I am very impatient."

Donnie pokes her on the tip of her nose. "You're so lucky you're cute. Get off me for a second, I'm gonna Beyoncé you real quick."

She snorts. "Bitched about your plan for so long and then you crumble anyway," she mutters, but she obligingly rolls off him and lets him scramble to the closet and fish the little velvet box out of the left half of Alexa's newest pair of sneakers.

"You're not keeping it," he warns, making his way back over to their bed. "This is, like. Mini proposal. Trial run. Beta testing."

She wrinkles her nose at him. "Put your dick away, then."

He just wiggles at her and flops hard back into bed, only avoiding crashing into her because she laughs, cries, "Donnie!" and throws herself back. It's hard to say who reaches for the other first, but she's got him in a headlock in the blink of an eye and he's pinching her hips and thighs because she banned him from retaliation licking her seven months ago. "Ow, ow, knock it off," she grumbles, but she's still giggling when she shoves him into the pillows. "You're so stupid, I can't believe I have to marry you."

"Haven't properly asked yet," he says cheerily. "You can say no."

"No, fuck off, I'm gonna." Is the immediate answer, and he pulls her down into the pillows next to him, blowing one last raspberry right on her cheek for good measure. "Ugh, nevermind, get out of my house."

"My twelve-step plan to seduce Fox into running away with me," he jokes, and opens the box.

"Oh," Alexa breathes, eyes wide in the dark, and Donnie's never felt more accomplished in his life. "Oh, Don—"

"Good choice?" He asks, just to preen a little bit, and she makes a noise that's just as much a laugh as it is a sob.

"Yes, oh my god, can I—" and she takes the box, bringing it up closer to her face to examine the teardrop-cut opal, the two crystals on either side, the matching band that nestles under the wide end of the gem, fanning out with more crystals in a pleasing semi-circle. "Oh, it's so thin!"

He'd purposely kept the bands plain and small, just to be extra sure the ring would actually fit on the little nub of Alexa's finger, and hearing her pleased coo does something good to the anxious knot in his chest. "Do you want to try it on?"

She looks up at him through watery lashes, a smirk teasing across her lips. "Sure that won't mess with your plan?"

He sticks his tongue out at her, just to make her giggle. "Trial run. Beta test. File name final-project-one. I can go get it fixed for the actual thing if it doesn't fit you."

Reader, it fits perfectly.

"Fuck yes, I am the king of the universe!" Donnie crows triumphantly, lifting one pointed leg towards the ceiling in victory. "Can't say shit to me for the rest of the week, babe."

"Wasn't planning on it," Alexa laughs, admiring the glittering gems on her finger. "Oh, I really love it." She says, suddenly choked, and Donnie rolls over to gather her up in his arms. "We're gonna get married."

He kisses the side of her head. "Yeah," he murmurs, trying (and failing) to stomp down his own tears. "Yeah, we are."

Alexa tucks herself into his chest and says: "Good luck trying to get the ring back, fucker."

"What — no, wait, my plan—" and they dissolve, wrestling and giggling like giddy little kids.

(The next month looks like this:

Donnie will manage to steal the ring back when Alexa's washing her hair a few days later. He will hide it on the top shelf of their kitchen pantry, where Alexa's five-foot-two ass will not be able to see it, let alone reach it. Alexa will grumble for thirteen hours before succumbing to the stress of her aforementioned projects. Life will continue as normal for another thirty-seven days; Donnie will go to work, to rehearsals and costume fittings and performances, and come home to Alexa hunched over her desk with her ninth coffee cup in her hands. He will drag her away from the screen whenever he will think she needs a break. They will go on walks in the park, on coffee shop dates, back to bed to both sleep together and just sleep. Their friends will flit in and out of their apartment like normal; Mags and Toby will stop by for brunch and dick mugs, David will stay the night whenever Donnie and Ethan are going to get stuck at the theater, Lark will call with reminders to eat and drink and offers to drop off leftover food. Donnie will take Alexa to her favorite night market four separate times once it opens up, and he's going to laugh and tease any time she will stare at him suspiciously. They'll take a day off to drive out to Jaimey and Juno's house for dinner, and Jaimey and Alexa will be laughing and teasing each other like normal siblings, and Juno and Donnie will exchange fond, relieved glances over their wine glasses. They're going to make plans to have dinner again next month.

Donnie's last show will close the day before Alexa will submit her final project; he will invite the whole crew over to their apartment for movies, food, and games in celebration. At nine-fourteen, Alexa will excitedly yell that it's snowing, can they please go outside so she can take some pictures, and everyone will tease her for immediately jumping into a new project but no one will say no. Donnie will slip the ring into his pocket just before they all head out and will follow his family through the streets as they will follow Alexa's meandering, aesthetically-driven path. He will stop and pose every time Alexa tells him to, and will goof off with Mags and David whenever the lens isn't pointed at any of them. He will try and sometimes succeed in making Lark laugh when she's trying to be a good model and will sign shit with Toby whenever Fox's back is turned. He will gently steer the group towards the night market, and luckily for him Alexa will light up the minute she will realize how close they are, and she's going to drag them all the rest of the way there.

The night market this year is really going to be an artisan's paradise; all the vendors will pull out their biggest and best, and the group will ooh and aah over all the hand-worked leather bags, the delicate wire jewelry, the carefully curated antiques, the second hand books and clothes. Ethan will pick up a couple of scented candles and Fox will buy them all hot cocoa and cookies from one of the bakery stalls, then will grumble that it's just a bribe to get them all to stop being so loud and obnoxious in public, Jesus fucking Christ. This, of course, will not work, and will only fuel their obnoxiousness further. No one will notice because the night market has always been like this, and there will be plenty of kids and teenagers and adults alike running around fulfilling their own personal agendas of chaos. Alexa will take an excellent video of Fox getting pulled into the tangled mess of Lark, David, and Mags, each with cookie crumbs on their faces, loudly whining that he doesn't love them anymore and what'll they do about the kids and the mortgage.

At ten-forty-six, Alexa will be forced to hand her camera off to Ethan, who will insist she needs to be in the photos too, and it will spur a whole new onslaught of goofing off. The snow is going to come down a little heavier, promising a proper snowstorm once it really gets going, but they're going to stay out at late as possible before it starts getting bad because they'll be right in the crossroads of all of Alexa's favorite times and weathers, and after the month she will have had, they won't be able to say no to her.

At eleven-o-three, Alexa will start wincing at every other step. Donnie will lift her up around her waist to pull her away from the group; she'll laugh and cackle and shriek at him, but will go happily enough when he's going to lead her towards the gazebo. It'll be beautifully decked out in hanging lights and evergreen garlands, and it'll provide a welcome break from both the snow and the walking. They'll sit on one of the benches inside and watch their friends goofing off outside; Alexa will brush snow from the top of Donnie's hair, and he'll tease her about some small comment she will have made a few minutes before. They'll shove at each other in a mock-fight for a minute or two before dissolving into shrieking, sobbing laughter, and Alexa will grin wide and bright at him and murmur that she loves him so much.

At eleven-eleven, Donnie will slide off the bench and onto one knee. He'll tell her that he loves her, that he feels so lucky to get to know her and love her, that he wants to make her smile like this for the rest of their lives. Alexa will be stunned for about two seconds because she really will have forgotten about his plan, and they'll both laugh and cry (only a little, this time) and he'll slip the opal ring back where it belongs on her finger. They'll kiss, soft and sweet, and their friends will surround the gazebo almost immediately, summoned by the PDA. The hooting and catcalling will startle them out of their reverie, and they'll laugh their way out of the gazebo and back out into the strengthening snowfall. They'll all decide it's probably a good idea to head back, especially considering the market will have been closing up for the past ten minutes, and they'll take the more direct route back to Donnie and Alexa's apartment in an unspoken agreement of a sleepover. Fox will swing Alexa up on his back when she'll stumble over a snowbank, and Donnie will teasingly beg Ethan to carry him, too.

David will be the first one to notice the ring, back at the apartment when he and Alexa will be gathering up blankets and pillows to pad out their fort in the living room, and he'll yell out "when the hell" loud enough that the rest of the group will come running. The rest of the night will be a blur of yelled congratulations and a few tears shed here and there, and exhaustion will overtake them one by one, starting with Ethan around twelve-twenty.

Donnie will fall asleep sometime past one-thirty. His head will be cushioned in Alexa's lap, his legs flung out over David's, and Fox's rumbling snores will echo somewhere to his left. The last thing he'll see before fully falling asleep will be the sparkling glint of the ring on Alexa's finger as she signs to Toby, and the last thing he'll hear is Alexa murmuring into Jaimey's voicemail that she's "getting married, Jay."

And he’ll be so, so fuckin’ soft for his girl.)

#i forgot how terrible tumblr was about copy paste fuck #anyway if ive got a potty mouth so does everyone else i dont make the rules #hi i missed movie house and my movie house crew so fuckin much how have yall been doing #im not dead ive just been having gender crises and making friends and storylines on tiktok and also being depressed #anyway 2020 was a fuckin shitshow and sometimes you need to write your favorite ocs getting engaged to cure your sadness #ive had movie house brainrot so fuckin bad lately ive been writing s o m u c h #ive had Many Thoughts And Ideas And Revamps #as hinted at above #so i. might start posting here again. movie house only zone #anyway big smorch for yall it is now 1 am and im going tf to bED #movie house #alejandra ochoa #alexa darmond #donnie frasier #ahbonjour #museumlad #creativeskull #writing #shut up phoenix #((except not actually shut up i will infodump and you will enjoy it >:[ ))

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