#nurseys hand on dexs chest.

[beansprean]

Happy birthday to my brother in all things polyfrogs, @atlasthemayor !!

i drew da boys just for u 😘 (chowder and dex are so easy to dress, idk why nursey makes it so difficult for me dkjfh)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Knees up of Chowder, Nursey, and Dex standing together on a white background. Nursey, wearing a long sleeved pale mustard shirt with thumb holes, a dark blue puffy vest, a thin green scarf, and dark wash jeans, has his arms thrown around the others’ shoulders and is leaning in between them with a grin. Chowder, wearing a sharks zip up hoodie and medium wash jeans, smiles back easily, hand grasping on to Nursey’s over his chest. His mouth is open around the smile, likely in the middle of infodumping and refusing to be interrupted by surprise affection. Dex, wearing a red plaid flannel with sleeves rolled to the elbow open over a white tee shirt, light wash jeans, and an analog watch, has one hand in his pants pocket and the other gripping Nursey’s wrist. He is half turned towards Nursey, teeth bared as if going to scold him for his clinginess, but is fighting a smile and losing. /end ID

[zimms]

new york city

you called me last night on the telephone and i was glad to hear from you cause i was all alone you said, "it's snowing, it's snowing! god, i hate this weather" now i walk through blizzards just to get us back together

Derek twists the telephone cord around his finger, straining to hear Will's words down the phone. "Sorry, you're cutting out. The landline's a little dodgy."

He definitely doesn't fail to hear the crackle of Will's laughter down the phone. "A landline? What is this, Nurse? The eighties?"

"Shut up! My moms prefer it for some reason. And, I don't know, it has a bit of je ne sais quoi, a bit of nostalgia, a bit of style, y'know." To emphasise the point, even if only to himself, Derek winds the cable around his fingers a couple more times.

"I don't, but I'll take your word for it."

Derek huffs his own laugh before softening his voice. "Look, the point is that I missed what you said the first time. Please could you repeat it, babe?"

Will's voice comes through the phone. "I said that it's snowing here."

"Isn't it always snowing in Maine in December?" Derek says, "Like I thought that was a given?"

"Yeah, but it's the first time I've seen snow since I last saw you." Will's voice goes quietier. "I miss you."

"That was literally two weeks ago, Dex." Derek rolls his eyes, knowing full well that Will can't see him. "You can't possibly miss me that much; you literally went almost two years without talking to me between leaving Samwell and the spring." He sighs and grins to himself "But- I miss you too."

we met in the springtime at a rock and roll show it was on the bowery when it was time to go

One second Derek is bouncing along to the song that the band is playing, the next, his gaze is fixed on a very familiar head of red hair that's darting through the crowd at the gig.

Dex?

Derek is too packed in by the surrounding crowd to do anything but watch, tracking the figure of a man who, two years ago, he never thought he'd see again. Well, maybe not never, after all they'd been to two weddings together this summer alone. But the point is, it would never be just the two of them again.

He allows himself to be swept back up in the words of the song, singing along with the rest of the crowd, but he never truly stops staring at the back of Dex's head. It's fine; Derek will catch him at the bar after the show. He has to.

The gig is in a tiny bar that masquerades as a club/concert venue, packed to the brim with people here to see bands make their first stumbling steps into the music industry. Derek first listened to these guys in his Senior Year at Samwell and fell head over heels in love with their music. They were even the soundtrack to his alarms for the year, greeting him before every 5am practice (because Dex was a total hardass).

After the final song, the crowd starts to disperse and Derek seizes his moment to chase after Dex.

He can't let him slip away from him.

Not this time.

Derek pushes through the crowd, apologising every step of the way, until Dex is finally within reach. Naturally, as soon as Derek goes to close his hand around Will's shoulder, the man in question takes a step forward and Derek takes a big handful of just air. "Dex! Hey! Dex!"

Will spins around and suddenly they're chest to chest for the first time in- Derek doesn't even know how long.

He forgets how to breathe.

"Nursey?" Dex's eyebrows furrow in that familiar way: the way they would when he couldn't figure out the problem with a particularly tricky bit of code, or when he was trying to figure out the best way to shut down the opposing team's attack. Derek hasn't realised until now just how much he missed that expression.

"Dex!" he says, trying desperately to sound normal and not at all breathless and relaxed. "How are you? I didn't- I didn't know you were in New York?"

Dex rubs the back of his neck. "I'm, erm, I'm not really, but I guess, I am?"

"Dex, I say this lovingly, but genuinely what the fuck does that mean?" Derek takes the opportunity to step back, breaking the physical contact between them at last. He can finally breathe.

"I'm living over near Lincoln Park, but I'm working for a start up here."

Derek laughs. "Dude, you could have just said that!"

"I was suprised to see you, okay!" Dex mumbles. "Though I'm not sure why I'm that surprised considering that you were the one that got me into this band, but it's whatever."

Derek pauses and considers what to say for a second, looking Dex up and down to try and gauge how much interaction with him Dex would be willing to stand. He takes another second to throw all of that consideration out of the window and just say fuck it.

He grins up at Will. "Can I buy you a drink?"

we kissed on the subway in the middle of the night i held your hand, you held mine, it was the best night of my life

One drink turns into two and two turns into four and so on and so on until the two of them stumble out onto the Bowery and into the open air at 3am.

Derek doesn't know how to describe it, but everything always feels easier at 3am. As they walk along the street towards the subway station, he brushes his hand against Dex's once, twice, three times until finally Will takes his hand in his.

They tangle their fingers together, relaxing into the easy rhythm that they lost at some point during senior year, and falling into each other's orbits yet again.

Derek tugs Will towards the Houston Bowery Wall, gravitating towards the explosion of colour in the night light. "C'mere." He squeezes Will's hand. "This is the Bowery Wall Mural. It's one of my favourite pieces of art in New York, especially this one."

"This one?" Will's voice trembles a little as if they're in a holy place rather than stood on the intersection of two busy streets in New York.

"They change the wall every so often, a constant fresh start, constant new opportunities. Sometimes they decide that a mural has had its time, sometimes other people decide for them, covering up the work with graffiti, showing the world what matters to them. But the wall always comes back with a newer piece of art, a never-ending cycle of hope and new beginnings."

Derek looks down at his and Will's interlocked hands and gives them another squeeze. "Last year, they decided to stop commissioning new murals because they kept being destroyed, but out of the ashes came this mural."

The wall is painted in a bright array of portraits, depicting people of all shapes and sizes. It takes Derek's breath away as he looks at it, even though he walks past it every week; there's something different about bringing Will here.

Will's voice catches in his throat. "It's beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here."

Derek grins back at him. "Thank you for coming with me."

Will's expression shifts and his eyes begin to dart around. "I should be going."

"What? All the way back to Jersey at this time? You're not going to get back until like 8am. Seriously, come back to my place; you can take the guest room."

(Internally, Derek kicks himself.)

"No, no, I can head back; I wouldn't want to impose."

"No, seriously I insist," Derek says, slowly beginning to steer them towards the subway station. "We're like ten minutes from my place on the subway; way better than going back to Jersey."

Will huffs a sigh, knowing that he's lost this battle. "Okay, fine. But I'll pay you back somehow, y'know."

Derek smiles at him as they enter through the ticket barriers. "I know."

(Derek will unashamedly admit that they made out in the empty subway carriage. Like c'mon, how could he resist waiting until he got home?)

because everyone's your friend in new york city and everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty the streets are paved with diamonds and there's just so much to see but the best thing about new york city is you and me

Derek wraps his arms around Will's waist and pulls him in closer, letting their bodies slot together in the warmth of the bed. "I'm so glad that I spotted you at that gig," he whispers into the crook of his neck. "I couldn't let you get away again."

Will leans back into the embrace. "I'm glad you found me too." He wriggles a bit, getting more comfortable. "It feels like I was stumbling blindly around the city before you found me. Like New York and you are so intertwined; you are New York, New York is you. It was weird to be in the city without you, to be honest.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Will turns around to look at him. “Seriously, Derek. I’ve loved the past four months of you dragging me around the city.”

Derek tickles his sides and Will squirms in his arms. “Drag?! I seem to recall you were the one that made a whole list of places that you wanted to see, including Co-Op City.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will mutters, ducking his head. “Maybe we shouldn’t have trekked all the way out to the Bronx just for it, but I thought I should see it, okay? It was a big case study in my urban planning class.”

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing you.” Derek leans down to kiss his boyfriend. “I think it’s sweet, honestly. Especially considering you didn’t think to do any of this stuff in your first two months of living here.”

“I was getting used to a new city! I wasn’t trying to sight-see; I was trying to survive!”

Derek hums to convey his total belief in Will’s statement. “Uh, huh.”

“It’s true!”

Derek hums again and grins down at him. “Anyway, do you still have that list somewhere? I need to figure out what’s left on your New York bucket list.”

Will blindly flails his arm onto his bedside table. “Yeah, yeah. Lemme just find it.” He rummages around a bit more, before finally producing a crumpled-up piece of paper. “here you go.”

statue of liberty, staten island ferry, co-op city, katz's, and tiffany's, central park, brooklyn bridge, the empire state, where dylan lived, coney island, and times square, rockefeller center

“Okay, I think I have the perfect idea for what our final stereotypical New York sightseeing trip will be,” Derek says.

“Mhhm, am I allowed to know what it is?”

“You’ll find out in, like, three months, I promise.” Derek can’t resist and gives Will another peck on the cheek. “It’ll be worth it.”

wish i was there

Derek finally removes his hands from where they’ve been covering Will’s eyes for the past ten minutes. “Surprise?”

They’re stood just outside the Rockefeller Centre ice rink, which is filled with a hurricane of screaming children and couples desperately trying to keep their balance whilst holding hands.

Will chuckles. “I’d say yes, but somehow the fact that you blindfolded me when you caught me looking at a sign for the Rockefeller Centre says otherwise.” He pauses. “Also, the fact that I caught you stealing my skates from my apartment the last time we were there.”

“Okay, you got me,” Derek says, “but it was good choice, yeah?”

“Yes, definitely.” Will threads his hand in Derek’s. “It was a great choice. Plus it’s like full circle, y’know. We first met at an ice rink and it’s nice to bring the list to a close with an ice rink too. Especially considering how much our relationship has changed over the past seven years, though it was a bit touch and go for a while, eh.”

Derek can’t help himself; he laughs. “Eh? Have you been spending too much time with Jack, huh?”

“Shut up.” Will lets go of his boyfriend’s hand so that he can elbow him instead. “I’m trying to be romantic and poetic and shit; don’t make fun of me.”

“Okay, okay.” Derek says. “You said exactly what I was gonna say, is all.”

“Oh?” Will mock-gasps. “So, I was in fact being poetic and shit?”

Derek kisses him – mostly to wipe the smug grin off his face – and then pulls back. “Are you ready to go and show these kids and tourists how it’s done?”

“Aren’t we technically tourists for this exercise?”

“Shhhh.” Derek kisses Will again, just for the fun of it this time and as they break apart, he feels something wet on his cheek. “Wait, are you crying?”

“No, you idiot, it’s snowing.”

Oh.

So, it is.

Derek feels a little stupid right now, but he can’t tell if that’s because of the kiss or because he was so obviously wrong.

Will taps him on the shoulder. “Come back here, idiot. This feels like a pretty perfect ending to my first year in New York.”

Derek waggles his eyebrows at him. “Yeah?”

He’s met with an eyeroll, but Will also rewards him with a “yeah” and another world-stopping kiss.

Derek has to agree with Will: with the snow falling down on them and the hubbub of the city around them, it does feel like a pretty perfect ending to their first year in New York together.

you wrote me a letter just the other day you said, "springtime is coming soon so why don't you come to stay" i packed my stuff, it's on the bus, i can't believe it's true. i'm three days from new york city and i'm three days from you.

Will has to laugh when his mom hands him the mail stack, an envelope with his name on it sat on top. Did Derek seriously send him a letter for the two weeks that he was back in Maine? Well, yeah, clearly – that much is evidenced by the fucking letter in his hand.

In fairness, the gesture does have Derek written all over it.

He carefully rips open the letter, thankfully not wax-sealed like some of the love letters that Will had watched Nursey send in his earlier years at Samwell, and the contents spill out.

Will pick up the letter first and begins to read it.

Dear Will,

It’s hard to believe that it’s only been nine months since I found you again at that gig on the Bowery; it feels like we’ve been exploring New York together for years. But springtime is coming soon again and I’m hoping that I’ll never have to find you again, but instead that you’ll always be in easy reach by my side. You know how you said one night that to you New York is me? Well, in the past nine months, New York has instead become You and Me. I feel like you’re pulling back the curtain and I’m seeing the city I’ve lived in for my whole life in a completely different light. Everything is suddenly so much brighter and more beautiful with you around. I hope that this new light continues with the dawn of this new spring, a third new beginning for us perhaps, but just to make sure, would you do me the honour of moving in with me? I mean, if nothing else, it saves you (and, rather selfishly, me) the commute the Lincoln Park every other night.

I know it’s only been a week, but I miss you so much.

I love you.

Derek.

The other item sitting on the kitchen table in front of Will is a keyring with two keys and a picture of the one of the windows from the current Bowery Mural. The keys are engraved with the numbers #24 and #28 and Will can’t quite hold back the mistiness that begins to gather in his eyes.

Of course, after everything, Derek brings it back to hockey, back to Samwell, back to that period of time when they were inseparable, but constantly at odds with each other, so similar, but so different.

Will carefully threads his old keys onto the new keyring. A third and final new beginning sounds perfect to him.

because everyone's your friend in new york city and everything looks beautiful when you're young and pretty the streets are paved with diamonds and there's just so much to see but the best thing about new york city is you and me

[cricketnationrise]

Hey! For the ficlet request, could I have Dex and Nursey, in the Nursery, at 3:23am?

My ao3 is glitterandspacebuns 💖 congrats on 500!!

i have emerged at long last from an overwhelming amount of hours at work more determined than ever to bash out the last of these prompts that i've had since January. on with the ficlet prompt fill!

read the rest of the ficlets here

🏒🏒🏒🏒

3:23am, the nursery

Later, Derek isn’t sure if it’s the slight movement of the mattress or the small draft of cooler air that wakes him. All he knows is one moment he’s firmly asleep, and in the next he’s blinking sleep out of his eyes as he hears soft footfalls moving down the hall. He’s not sure what time it is, but it feels like the middle of the night—there’s a certain quality, a depth of the darkness outside the windows, that suggests all non-nocturnal creatures should be sleeping. He’s on his way back to dreamland when he catches some noises from beyond the bedroom.

A click of a door handle, a tiny hinge squeak, a bit of rain from a white noise machine, and the happy, nonsense babbling of his daughter greeting his husband—utterly unconcerned with the late hour. Derek swings himself out of bed and traces Will’s path down the hall to the nursery. The sight that greets him isn’t new by any stretch, but it still makes him feel like a swooning romantic heroine out on the moors.

Will is leaning over the crib, bare back outlined by the light of the moon, elbows propped on the railing as he lets Elena use his dangling fingers to pull herself upright. Their foreheads come together a touch violently from their daughter’s enthusiasm, but Will gives no indication that her headbut hurt him, merely extricating one hand to smooth over her face as he shifts to kiss her forehead. Elena seems unhurt as well, as her delighted ramble hasn’t so much as stuttered, let alone ceased or given way to tears. Derek leans against the doorframe and just watches the pair of them, fondness and love swelling and swirling beneath his skin.

His husband is the very picture of focused listening, nodding seriously as Elena chatters and responding with thoughtful murmuring when she takes a breath. Elena doesn’t have an extensive vocabulary yet, but Will always answers her as though she’s made perfect sense. Derek does too, but Will has this effortless knack of making whoever he’s talking to feel important and heard that Derek has always had to work at to achieve. It’s clear their daughter has realized how content Will’s focus can make one feel.

Derek is sure that Will knows he’s there, but he keeps his attention on Elena, and Derek lets him. He hasn’t been home for almost a week—stupid Canadian road trips that Derek doesn’t miss at all are stupid—and he missed her bedtime tonight. Honestly, Derek is surprised he didn’t just camp out in Elena’s room after he got home. There was many a night right after they brought her home from the hospital that Derek would come back from brushing his teeth to an empty room, only to find his husband sat on the floor with his back against the crib, head turned uncomfortably so he could watch her breathing through the rails. Will loves hockey—wants to keep playing as long as he can—but Derek knows how much Will misses them both when he has to travel.

Elena is yawning between each incomprehensible phrase now, and Will gently eases her down to the mattress again. Derek holds in a chuckle as Will makes to pull his hand away only for Elena to reach out and grip his finger firmly in her fist—unwilling to let Will move any further away. Derek can certainly relate. Will pets her already wild curls steadily, coaxing her to sleep with a soothing, hummed rendition of I’ll Stand By You. It’s truly as though he wants Derek to expire from the cuteness. 

Eventually Elena’s breathing evens out, and her grip slackens enough that Will can slip free. He walks backwards away from the crib until he’s leaning against Derek’s chest, eyes still on their daughter. Derek curls his arms around Will’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“I thought you’d be out till breakfast after such a long roadie,” Derek whispers.

“Me too,” Will sighs, letting Derek support more of his weight. “But my brain wouldn’t settle until I’d seen her.”

Derek drops a kiss to Will’s shoulder. “And now that you have? Come back to bed?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Derek squeezes him tight once and then lets go, only to tangle their fingers together as he leads them back down the hall to their bedroom. They climb into bed and Derek ends up in his favorite spot, sprawled across Will’s chest, his head nestled in the crook of Will’s neck. Will’s free arm comes up and slings across Derek’s waist, keeping him close and Derek hums contentedly.

“G’night,” Derek says, “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Neither of them so much as twitches until morning.

[hashtagdex]

i commissioned @scottishsafehouse the other day to draw the frogs winning the national championship their senior year and boy did he deliver!!!!

[snackzimmerman]

They’ve got practice in about twenty minutes, and Dex can’t remember where he left his English paper. This wouldn’t normally be a huge issue, except that he has English right after he gets out for some godforsaken reason, so he doesn’t really have time to search for it. Curse his teacher for making them print every major assignment.

“Dex!” Nursey calls for what must be the fifth time in two minutes, clattering down the basement stairs. “Dude. You have to lead practice, like, stat.”

“Got that, Nurse,” Dex snaps back. “Just - go without me, okay? I’ll be there.”

Nursey gives him a look that says you’re not fooling anyone, which is the look Dex should be giving to him, seeing as he basically has the word chill emblazoned across his forehead at any given time. Still, he leaves, and that’s all Dex needs from him right now. He can’t exactly do what needs to be done with someone else in the room.

“Where’s my paper,” Dex asks the room at large, dry and impatient. Something pings at him in the back of his mind, and he turns to follow the ‘sound’, ducking underneath his desk and blinking in disbelief. His paper lies abandoned under a stack of books.

One challenge down.

“Okay,” Dex breathes, shoulders loosening as he jams it into his backpack, “quickest route to Faber.”

The pinging starts up again, and he follows it outside, trailing through back alleys and open stretches of grass, until he reaches the rink. Chowder raises his eyebrows in a way that surely means Nursey told me what’s happening, how did you make it here in eight minutes? Dex shrugs back at him. It’s - ugh - chill.

It’s not like he can say hey, I can magically find things without being carted off to an insane asylum - if they even still have those.

“Hey, Cap!” Tango chirps, which is very sweet and affirming, before inhaling in what is sure to precede a monologue of epic proportions. Dex subtly angles him toward Hops, who’s a lot more likely to actually listen than he is. The coward's way out will do for this morning.

“You about ready to lead?” Nursey asks lowly. “Didn’t want to start without you.”

The irritability Dex has gained from staying up too late the night before (for that damn paper!) melts somewhat. “Just about.”

His defense partner gives him a slight smile - the kind he might give to anyone - and sails away with a gentle pat on the back. It’s nice, Dex thinks, that he’s at the same level as everyone else is. Even at the same level of friendship as Chowder. He’s not that slightly-below point that he might have been even at the start of junior year.

Still, his mind itches with the instinct he’s forgotten something. Dex finds a quiet spot to lace up his skates and lets his power go to work.

“What do I need,” he whispers under his breath. “Right now, before I go lead my team.”

The pinging is stronger this time. That means he really does need this thing - more than just for the moment. By the way it blocks out the soft whoosh of the air conditioning, it might be one of the things he needs most.

Dex lifts his head, almost wincing as the pinging intensifies, and lets himself edge out onto the rink. He does slow circles himself as he orders them to start with a few idle laps, monitoring. Nursey and Chowder race each other instead of setting a good example for the new frogs, but that’s nothing new. Nothing he needs. Still, the noise gets louder as they get closer to him.

“I’m tooootally winning, C,” Nursey drawls, putting his hands behind his head in an effort to look unaffected, and Chowder gives him the slightest nudge as they pass Dex. Nursey flails too dramatically to keep him upright, tipping sideways. Distracted by the pinging, Dex takes the weight and goes down fast.

“Shit,” he grunts, wincing. There’s something warm on top of him. Something he’s pressed firmly into.

“Ow,” Nursey grumbles - Dex opens his eyes - oh, that’s Nursey’s chest right there, and his hand beneath Dex’s head to protect him, even though his helmet provides more cushioning - and the sharp sting of something akin to embarrassment rushes through him.

“Damn, Chowder,” Bully says in the background, amused. “You tried to assassinate the captain and our other best D-man.”

“I did not!” Chowder protests, skating closer. “Holy shit, guys, I’m so -”

“It’s chill, C,” Nursey waves it off. The weight leaves Dex’s front, and he lifts himself off the ground, brushing at his knees. “Dexy just couldn’t take the heat.”

“Shut the fuck up, Nursey,” Dex complains good naturedly, taking the proffered hand.

The pinging in his brain shuts up, suddenly and completely.

What do I need, he thinks again, spit rising to the forefront of his throat, and looks up at Nursey, who is and has been and always will be so clever - so irritating - so compassionate -

So pretty. Dex is fairly certain what he needs isn’t a romantic crisis.

Fuck.

[ariesisms]

its the image of the frogs walking in on whiskey getting his ass handed to him for being passive agressive and insensitive and honestly just plain rude, knowing exactly what buttons of bitty's to push without understanding the consequences, without understanding that bitty has spent his whole life getting pushed around and has spent the last 3 and a half years realizing how fucked up and unfair that is. it's the image of chowder and dex pulling bitty back and placing matching hands on his shoulders, squeezing firmly in a silent but clear affirmation of "got your back", nursey pushing whiskey backward, placing a hand on his chest to keep him there, the three of them looking back and forth between bitty and whiskey trying to figure out what the fuck happened. most of all its bitty wiping blood off his face with the sleeve of his jersey, glaring at whiskey and saying "I've worked too hard to let other people make me feel small," and walking out without another word.

[parvuls]

fic: need seek no further

Jack shrugs. “Eh. Bittle likes Cabot butter best.”

a disgustingly fluffy, plotless ficlet about how well jack knows bitty and how he perfected the skill of nonverbal communication through the force of sheer will. also, the frogs.

read on ao3

.

.

Dex called Bitty one evening in early May, let Bitty shower him with hellos, and then stated, “We won the NCAA championship.” He said it matter-of-factly, like maybe Jack and Bitty hadn’t been there when it happened, like Jack hadn’t watched him cling to Bitty for a full minute after the stands had spilled onto the ice.

“You did,” Bitty replied, raising his eyes to meet Jack’s with confusion wrinkling between his brows. His phone was set on the kitchen island between them, Dex’s voice filling their kitchen through speaker phone while Bitty’s floured hands were busy kneading dough. Jack was keeping him company on another last-minute testing session for his rhubarb pie recipe, even though the last proof of his book had been approved by his editors over two weeks before. Jack was running out of team members to send leftovers to.

“And Whiskey got voted captain,” Dex continued.

Jack watched as Bitty squinted down at his phone. Bitty had spent half an hour on the phone with Whiskey the night of the banquet; he hadn’t disclosed the details of their conversation to Jack, but his face when he’d returned to their room, had sat down next to Jack on the bed and had leaned his forehead on Jack’s bicep for a long while -- Jack had seen that face before. Had known that expression meant pride.

“So we were talking about it just now,” there was the sound of more people whispering furiously in the background, and Jack thought he could maybe hear Chowder’s unsteady voice calling out, hey Bitty!, and only then he began contemplating the solid possibility that Dex may have been a little drunk. “And -- so we won last year, with you, and now we won again, and we wanna keep winning, right? So we gotta make sure to keep doing everything that’s working.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bitty said agreeably, faintly amused. It was obvious to Jack from his tone that Bitty, at least, had already realized Dex was a little drunk, but was only too happy to play along.

“‘Swawesome,” Dex said fervently, like Bitty had agreed to something very important. “So you see why Whiskey’s gotta learn to make a pie.”

That stopped Bitty in his tracks. Jack blinked, watched Bitty’s long fingers halt their motions in the dough, the pressure of his fingerprints leaving crescent grooves behind. “William Joseph, that doesn’t make a lick of sense,” he said, and narrowed his eyes at the screen of his phone like Dex could feel their weight on him through the line. But then he seemed to think it over again, and the pitch of his voice rose as he demanded, “Wait, are you sayin’ Whiskey’s willing to learn how to bake?”

“He says he’ll do it for the win,” Dex said, and Bitty gaped at the phone, then gaped at Jack, and with his cheeks pink and his eyes wide he exclaimed, “Of course I’ll do it!”, like there’d ever been any other option to consider.

Jack kept it to himself, but he had no doubt in his mind that there hadn’t been.

.

.

.

Dex, Chowder and Nursey wait for them at the doorway of the Haus, broad shoulders wedged together in the narrow doorframe.

Bitty had said before they left home, “You don’t have to come, sweetpea,” and Jack had said, simply, “I want to,” and had meant it. It was only in the summer months that Jack had the privilege to see his friends whenever he wished to, and now that the Falconers were out of the playoffs -- well, Jack was feeling a little more withdrawn lately, even quieter than usual, but this felt like something he genuinely wanted to do with the time on his hands. There was also the fact that soon the frogs would graduate, and with them gone Jack would be too far removed to visit the Haus comfortably, even if Bitty still could.

Right now Jack could, and he wanted to, so Bitty and he got in Bitty’s car and drove the forty-five minutes down to Samwell, Bitty’s phone hooked through the aux and his hands tapping on the wheel to the beat. He was nervous, although Jack wasn’t sure exactly why -- only knew it was obvious in Bitty’s restless hands and the frequency he switched songs midway through. Jack reached out and placed his hand on Bitty’s thigh, squeezed, and let Bitty burn his nervous energy whatever way he deemed best.

“We did all the shopping!” Chowder announces as Jack and Bitty walk up the porch steps, and then immediately bounces forward and wraps Bitty in a hug. His long limbs envelope Bitty within them, and soon Jack’s dragged into their circle, too, feels Nursey’s arms fold around his shoulders and Dex’s tentative hand patting him on the back. It doesn’t overwhelm him like it could’ve, maybe, a year or two ago -- it just feels nice, familiar, welcoming. A display of affection he readily returns.

When the huddle breaks, the five of them shuffle through the door and head straight into the kitchen. It looks about the same as it has since Bitty took over it five years ago -- no longer just a room with a fridge full of beers and a broken down table, but a real kitchen, with Suzanne’s hand-sewn curtains and clear countertops and the oven that Jack is still irrationally fond of. Although it seems like it’s been revamped in the months since Jack has last seen it; the cupboards’ hinges are no longer busted, and there are actual shelves stacked along the walls. Jack assumes the likely suspect is Samwell Men’s Hockey current captain, and has to curb a revealing smile that would surely draw questions. It’s another unspoken team tradition, Jack thinks, recalling freshman Will Poindexter: no one leaves it entirely unchanged.

“Y’all are joining us for some baking lessons?” Bitty asks Nursey and Chowder, hand almost unconsciously drifting over the edge of the counters. He looks good there, really, looks right. He’s not the same as he was when he graduated and certainly not the same as when he first claimed this kitchen, but to Jack, Bitty would always look right in the sun streaming through the Haus’ dusty windows, puttering between pots and pans.

“Nah, C and I will get out of your hair for that, but Whiskey isn’t back yet so we’ve got some time. And anyway --” Nursey glances sideways at Dex and Chowder, fails at stifling a smile, “uh, the waffles heard you were coming today, Bits.”

“Going by their reaction, they’ve definitely missed you,” Dex says, arms crossed over his chest, his face serious but a single upwards quirk to the corner of his mouth. It could be a chirp at the waffles, maybe, but Jack is almost certain that it’s sincere nonetheless.

Bitty turns to the shopping bags spread across the counter and starts picking them apart, taking out the ingredients for inspection before setting them down with that same nervous energy, the one that rarely ever follows Bitty into his domain in the kitchen. Jack watches him smile at Dex, honest but jittery, and realizes what he should’ve already known -- how very important it is to Bitty that this goes perfectly.

“Oh, bless them, I’ve missed them too! I’ll tell them hello so we can get started right after,” Bitty says, setting down a bag of brown sugar and taking out a packet of butter from the bag. He looks -- momentarily disappointed, and Jack frowns, searches Bitty’s face. It’s probably only visible to Jack, who recognizes the subtle shift in Bitty’s jaw and the fleeting movement of his eyebrows, but still. He follows Bitty’s eyes down to his hands and to the butter in them, and surveys it for a moment, deep in thought.

“You’ve got two seconds to prepare yourself, bro,” Nursey warns, and then Bully, Hops and Louis descend loudly into the kitchen, flock around Bitty like ducklings. Bitty’s always had that effect on hockey players, on people, even before he got the C. It’s with intense fondness that Jack thinks it, knows the feeling intimately as someone who’s lucky enough to experience that affect every day. He can’t blame them for the way they beam down at Bitty, fight for his attention, laugh when he laughs at the rising volume of their clashing, simultaneous stories.

It’s a good opportunity if nothing else, though, so Jack shoulders his way between Bully and Louis, brushes two fingers over Bitty’s elbow to get his attention. When Bitty turns his head, Jack takes advantage of his height to lean in and say into Bitty’s ear, “Hey, bud, I’m stepping out for a moment.”

Bitty smiles at him, reaches up to stroke a hand down Jack’s cheek just warmly enough to be soothing, just quickly enough to be appropriate. “Yeah, of course. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and thinks, it will be. He pauses, looks down threateningly at the waffles, and leans in to kiss Bitty's temple swiftly, before someone he can’t intimidate as easily as these sophomores could try fining him for it. The space he leaves between Bully and Louis closes as soon as he leaves their side, Bitty disappearing from sight behind their tall forms, but the sound of his cheerful laughter rings after Jack as he walks out of the kitchen and exits through the front door.

.

.

.

When Jack comes back he has to open the door one-handed, the other one busy clutching the handles of a grocery bag. His cap is pulled down low, a protective measure from the crowd that swarmed the Stop and Shop on Pemberton, so it takes a few steps into the Haus’ hallway for him to notice Whiskey hovering in the kitchen doorway, apparently stopped right on his way out of it.

“Jack,” Whiskey looks surprised -- or maybe still mildly star-struck, Jack has always had trouble telling with his face. “You’re here. I haven’t seen you.”

“Got some stuff from the shop,” Jack raises the bag by way of explanation, adjusts his hat, and after a brief moment of stillness hunches his shoulders to bypass Whiskey into the kitchen.

Whiskey bends his neck to peer down into the bag as Jack passes. He looks somewhat horrified at what he finds, as much as Whiskey ever betrays his emotions -- a slight frown, a barely noticeable widening of his eyes. “We need more groceries for this thing?”

Jack shrugs, noncommittal. They don’t, really, but. “Eh. Bittle likes Cabot butter best.”

The frogs and waffles have moved to the den while Jack was out -- he can hear them now, Bully’s low voice and Chowder’s quick speech and Hops’ rolling laughter -- but Bitty must’ve heard Jack come in, because he appears next to Whiskey in the kitchen doorway. His gaze darts between the two of them before it lands on the bag hanging from Jack’s fingers, and Jack reaches in to pull out one stick of butter, holding it out so Bitty can see the brand. Bitty’s eyes light up when he realizes, go round and bright, and he declares, “Sweetpea, you shouldn’t have!”, in the tone that means he’s beyond pleased that Jack did.

“That's more butter,” Whiskey says, staring at Bitty and then at the butter already stacked on the counter from the frogs’ shopping trip, clearly bewildered.

Jack twists his body, turns his back to them to find an empty spot somewhere on the counter. “Cabot has a half percent more fat, and Bittle likes his crust flaky,” he explains absently while emptying the contents of the bag onto the spot he chose. It’s important to Bitty that this goes perfectly, and while Jack can’t control Whiskey's abilities in the kitchen, wouldn’t be able to fix baking mishaps if those occur, this is something he can do. Make sure Bitty has the best conditions to work in, grant him a little peace of mind.

When he turns back around Whiskey is gone, and it’s only Bitty standing behind him, his eyes twinkling and his lips parted slightly.

“What?” Jack asks, confused.

There’s a long stretch of silence while Bitty just looks at him. Jack’s rarely comfortable with intense scrutiny from others, but Bitty -- Bitty’s gaze is soft, and he looks at Jack like he’s something good, something to admire. It’s a look he gives Jack often, usually accompanied by the gentlest of kisses, the warmest of hugs, the kindest of words. Sometimes Jack’s mind is slow to catch up, too stubborn to be convinced of his own worthiness, but this is the look Bitty gets when his emotions are broadcasted so loudly that even Jack’s mind has to pipe down and listen.

Bitty takes a few steps closer, grabs Jack’s palm between both his hands. “Marry me?” he asks breathily, with a smile curling at his lips.

Warmth flutters in Jack’s stomach at the words, and an answering smile grows on his own lips. The ring glints on Bitty’s finger whenever he moves his hands, is glinting now, where his fingers are curled around Jack’s in the sunny kitchen. It’s been a distraction many times in the past year, but each time Jack sees it he’s reminded of what Bitty and he have promised to each other. The future that is still to come.

There’s no one in the kitchen but them, and the Haus residents sound busy enough in the other room that no one would notice if Jack stole a lone moment. “Sorry, I can’t,” Jack deadpans, grabs Bitty by his hips and gathers him into his arms. His fingers slide over the soft fabric of Bitty’s clothes and find the gap between his top and his shorts, dipping inside to rub against Bitty’s warm skin. “It’s a tempting offer, but I’m already engaged.”

“Leave him, then,” Bitty says without missing a beat. He tilts his head up to nudge Jack’s cheek with his nose, wraps his strong arms around Jack’s neck. His face is so close to Jack’s that Jack can count his pale eyelashes, can see the splotches of fading pink on his skin. He’s been spending a lot of time editing his cookbook on their balcony since springtime has arrived, and his body tans nicely but the bridge of his nose has been reddened and peeling for a while. “Run away with me.”

Jack can’t help the temptation, kisses Bitty’s right cheek and then his left one. “Sorry, bud.”

“Why ever not,” Bitty sighs, most dramatically, and uses his grip on Jack’s neck to lean his upper body backwards. “A man who knows his butters? You better believe I’m willing to fight for you, mister.”

It’s the sincerity in his voice that has heat prickling across Jack’s skin, raw pleasure squirming in his chest. It’s a futile battle, though, a battle Jack realized was lost when he dropped Bitty off at this very Haus after their very first summer together, longingly watched him skip up the stairs and thought, oh, I wanna marry him. “I can’t,” he tells Bitty quietly, pulls him closer so the words stay trapped between them, rough and intimate like a secret. “I love my fiancé too much.”

“Oh,” and Bitty flushes at this, red blossoming on the apples of his cheeks like he’s flattered -- like the ring around his finger hasn’t been there for a year, like Jack hasn’t taken to kissing it before kissing Bitty goodbye on nights he leaves for games; like Jack loving him too much to ever consider anyone else is still a novelty, a compliment, after all this time. “Well. Lucky him.”

Lucky me, Jack thinks, and bows his head to fit his mouth to Bitty’s in for a lingering sweet kiss.

[homobiwan]

“I could do it, you know,” Dex whispers one night, face buried in Nursey’s chest. “I could change my name and disappear. They wouldn’t know anything.”

Nursey kisses Dex’s hair, running his hand along the back of Dex’s head. It’s a practiced motion, one that Dex has learned to lean into, to expect and love.

“If you do,” Nursey says, his voice soft and easy with sleepy affection, “promise to tell me beforehand so I know where to find you?”

“Don’t be a dumbass, Nursey; I’m taking you with me.”

[cricketnationrise]

oh my gosh the fest is getting so fancy!! congrats on 500, babe you deserve it SO MUCH!!

7:32 pm

Faber Rink (with this and the time i was thinking during a game but do whatever works in your perfect brain!)

Dex and/or Nursey

OK Go - another set of issues; specifically "So keep your head down / Keep your hands where I can see them now / This'll all be over soon"

T or M

🤍🤍🤍

HELLO DARLING

now that i'm back from hawaii and through a tough week of work catch-up, i finally had time to write whats been swirling around in my brain since i got your prompt. did i nail the vibes of the song? possibly not, but this is where my brain went, so i hope you like it anyway 💜🦗

want your own ficlet? followers can request their own prompt using these guidelines through Jan 31, 2024 (5 more days!) I WILL write every one, promise.

7:32pm, faber

“Dex.” The sound of his name jerks him out of his memories of last night.

“What?”

“It’s time, dude,” Nursey says, holding his fist out for their customary pre-game elaborate handshake. As always, he’s infuriatingly chill. Or chill-looking, which is more than Dex has ever managed on a normal day, let alone right before a playoff game the day after he hooked up with one of his best friends.

“You sure we should be doing this?” Dex pants as Nursey mouths down his neck.

“So sure. Now shut up.”

Dex smirks. “Make me, Nursey.”

Nursey ceases his assault on Dex’s neck long enough to smirk back at him before he pulls Dex in by the back of his neck for a furious kiss.

Under the half-burned out fluorescent lights of the tunnel, no one is beautiful. Like, objectively. But Nursey — glorious, stunning, radiant Nursey — manages to defy the odds. And he still has his gloved fist held out, waiting for Dex to do something, anything; anxiety starting to creep in at the edge of his green eyes.

And nope. As awkward as it may be right now, Dex cannot stand being the cause of such a thing. Not after they’ve both worked so hard to come out the other side of their fights to be friends.

He forces a smile on his face and meets Nursey’s glove with his own.

Dex shivers with every scrape of Nursey’s stubble on his chest. He’s flying high right now, every place he and Nursey are skin to skin feels like there’s a current running through them.

“Mm, Nursey more, please…”

“Comin’ right up,” Nursey winks before biting down just above Dex’s abs. The sharp sting of pain only amplifies all the pleasure coursing through his body. He doesn’t even care if Nursey leaves a bruise — he kind of wants him to, actually.

“Ready to smash it out there tonight?” Dex asks, forcing his voice to remain steady, to project Captain Dex as hard as he can. If he thinks about last night for too long, he’ll probably forget how to skate.

“You know it, Poindoodle,” Nursey says. They step through their handshake, as in sync now as they are on the ice, as they were last night — no, not now. Dex focuses on the movements, the routine that the two of them have built together over four years.

“Fuck, Will—” Nursey’s words are cut off with a groan as Dex swallows around him, tasting Nursey’s release on the back of his tongue. He thinks the jolt of smug satisfaction that goes down his spine is justified. 

After all, no one but Dex reduced Nursey to just moans and curses and his fucking name.

The handshake ends, as it always does, with pulling each other close for a totally-platonic-not-at-all-wishing-to-be-real back-slapping hug. As it always does, the hug lingers. On both of their parts. Dex wishes he had words for once, but they’ve never been his thing.

Nursey has no such hang ups, and whispers in Dex’s ear instead of pulling back.

“We’re gonna win this game tonight, and then we’re gonna celebrate at the Haus with our teammates. And then we’ll keep celebrating in your room, just the two of us. If you want to?”

Dex pulls back just far enough to meet Nursey’s gaze.

“Derek— please, so close—”

“Easy, I got your back, just let go,” Nursey murmurs before reapplying his mouth to Dex’s cock.

Dex shudders as Nursey swirls his tongue around the head and falls headlong over the edge with a shout.

“I do want.”

“Well then, lets go fuck Harvard up, shall we?” Nursey’s eyes are sparkling, brighter than the stars Dex sees out in the forests of Maine.

Dex knows they still have a lot to talk about, but at this moment he just knows they’re on the same page. He grins, wider than he usually lets himself.

“After you.”

[hashtagdex]

#10 or #34 with nurseydex 🤫

thank you em!! i love you i hope you like it <3 (also read on ao3)

Number 10 is Tequila Shots by Kid Cudi

Gotta take a minute, y'all, traveled far

Feelin' somethin', no, I can't ignore my instincts

[…]

Something 'bout the night that keep me safe and warm

Just me, the universe, and everything I think

If there's one thing Nursey knows, it's that time flies.

It feels like yesterday that he stepped foot on the campus at Samwell for the first time for the Taddy Tour, fresh-faced with quiet excitement thrumming under his skin as he took in Faber, the Quad, Founders. And now he has moved back into the Haus after summer break for the very last time.

This is it. This is senior year unfolding in front of him with every breath he takes and there's nothing he can do to slow it down, no matter how deep he digs his nails in.

In nine short months, Nursey is going to graduate and stumble into his post-college, adult life with a degree and no real plan of what’s next or where he’ll end up living. He knows his moms would love it if he moved back to the City, but he’s fallen in love with Boston to the point that the clear-cut definition of the City that he came here with has started to blur.

In nine short months, Nursey will never have to rush to class after practice or worry about his thesis again. He'll never lace up his skates in his cubby at Faber between Dex and Chowder again. He'll never glare daggers at the Lax frat across the street again, however half-hearted they may have become since Whiskey has cozied up to one of the probably-Chads. He'll never wander the Quad to drop down into an obscene pile of leaves to the sounds of Chowder’s gleeful laughter and Dex's grumbling complaints again. There will be no new batches of freshmen to haze or teammates to chirp. No more brunches or late night milkshakes at Annie's.

In nine short months, everything Nursey will have known for the past four years is going to change and he really isn't ready for it.

Maybe he'll never taste Dex's—or Bitty's, he supposes—baking again or wince at Chowder’s random, painful-looking splits or fine Farmer and him for some insanely saccharine PDA. For all he knows, come graduation, he'll lose sight of the rest of the Frogs and it'll be just him wherever the fuck he ends up.

The universe seems to hear him—the back door cracks open, through his thoughts that threaten to spiral again, and then it's Dex’s voice saying, "Hey, Nurse."

Nursey cranes his neck around to find Dex’s head peeking out through the screen door, illuminated softly by the warm yellow porch light Nursey left on when he came out here an hour ago. The sight of him settles something in Nursey’s turbulent chest. “Hey, Cap,” he shoots back and even in the dim light, he can tell Dex flushes at the nickname. Nursey’s stomach swoops pleasantly. “What’s up?”

Dex shifts his weight. “Mind if I join you?”

Being alone is probably not going to do him much good right now, Nursey figures. And he’s come to realize that something about Dex’s company makes him quiet, deep down. “Nah, go ahead.”

With a little grateful smile that Nursey can’t help but return, Dex steps outside onto the porch entirely, a bottle of beer in each hand, and pushes the door shut with his hip. He doesn’t sidestep that one creaky floorboard on his way over to Nursey.

The crickets are chirping and a comfortable breeze brushes past them as Dex plops down on the top step next to Nursey, close enough for their knees to knock together. Nursey doesn’t move away, doesn’t focus on the point of contact, doesn’t focus on the warmth of Dex’s skin against his. Instead, he accepts the bottle Dex passes over to him.

“It’s a really nice night,” Dex comments and fishes the Falconers bottle opener Jack left them last year out of his pocket, then leans into Nursey’s space a little to pop his bottle’s lid off. Nursey hums in agreement and watches Dex crack open his own bottle before he slips the opener back into the pocket of his shorts. It really is a nice night; the leftover warm summer air of the day sits on his skin like a gentle blanket and the sky above is clear, dotted with twinkling stars that Nursey could spend forever searching for patterns in. Dex probably knows a lot of constellations “What’s got you thinking so hard out here?”

They clink the butts of their bottles together and Nursey lets the question sit in the night air between them as they both take a swig. “Oh, you know,” Nursey says with a sigh and a vague back-and-forth tilt of his palm after he’s swallowed.

Dex bumps his shoulder against Nursey’s. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s just,” Nursey starts, then sighs again. No point in hiding it, not with Dex. “It’s all changing.” Next to him, Dex stays quiet, but Nursey knows he’s got his full attention. It’s his way of encouraging someone to keep going, he’s learned. “We’re seniors. This is our last year here, our last shot to make this memorable and go out with a bang, I guess. Who knows where we’ll end up after graduation, if we’re even gonna be in the same place. We just got back from summer break today, preseason hasn’t even kicked off yet,” he scuffs his shoe against the wood of the step below, “but I can’t help but miss everyone already.”

“I get it,” Dex replies after a moment and Nursey can tell his brows are drawn together when he sighs. “While we’re being honest, I’m wondering if I’ll even get to be a good captain. Like, what if everyone who voted for me last year was wrong and I crash and burn, you know? What if I can’t lead us back to the Championship?”

“Hey,” Nursey cuts in immediately, getting Dex to look over at him as he takes a drink, “you’re gonna be a great captain. You fight for us and with us and that’s what matters. Everyone respects you here.” 

Dex offers him a small smile. “Thanks. And you know what?”

Nursey hums. “What?”

“We may not be able to stop this, but not everything’s going to change either,” Dex tells him, bumping their shoulders together again. ”No matter what happens or where we’ll end up, you’ll still have Chowder and me. Frogs for life, remember? And besides”—then there’s Dex’s pinky finger, bumping into his on the wood of the step between them; Nursey hooks his around it—“not every change has to be bad, right?”

“Right,” Nursey replies. He moves his ring finger over Dex’s, squeezing once, and Dex squeezes back without hesitating. “Anyway, sorry for being a bummer.”

Dex shakes his head. “Don’t be. I’m glad you trust me with this,” he says with a sincere look on his face and links another finger with Nursey’s.

“Sap,” Nursey throws back around a grin and revels in the half-hearted eye roll he gets in response. “But thank you. Really.”

The smile Dex gives him is small, gentle, real. Nursey loves it. “So, is there anything you’re actually looking forward to this year?”  Dex asks.

Nursey hums and as he thinks, he takes a big sip of his beer. He could swear he sees Dex track the way his Adam’s apple moves when he swallows. “I’m gonna throw the best Kegsters yet.”

“Oh God,” Dex replies and slips on a fake look of concern, but a grin is cracking through anyway. “Do we need to bring back Nursey Patrol?”

“Fuck you, man,” Nursey shoots back with a laugh. They got rid of Nursey Patrol a year ago; Nursey’s gotten a lot more responsible with his tub juice intake. He doesn’t end up on rooftops anymore, anyway. And, well, Louis needed it more. “It’ll be a mad chill Halloween Kegster and I’m thinking about a throwback one? Like, with an Eighties theme, you know? It’ll be dope and I will get you to dress up.”

Dex laughs into his bottle, the sound reverberating in the neck of it before he takes a drink. “We’ll see.”

“We’ll see that I’m right. You’re the captain, you have to dress up too.” Nursey decides to count the grumbling coming from Dex at that as victory. “Oh, and I got some cool classes lined up that I’m excited for,” he adds.

“Yeah?” Dex prompts, “Like what?”

“Y’know, a couple poetry ones,” Nursey replies. “I’ll spare you the details, but one of my favorite poets is actually teaching a class this semester and I managed to get in, so that’s chill. There’s one on contemporary American poetry, too. And a workshop with that same poet.”

“That sounds cool,” Dex tells him and Nursey hears the I’m genuinely happy for you in his voice clear as the night sky above. “Don’t overwork yourself, though, yeah?”

When Dex goes to link a fourth finger with Nursey’s, Nursey turns his hand palm-up and intertwines their hands completely instead. This is far from the first time they’ve held hands in the last few months, but the other times were all platonic. At least Nursey thinks so. But tonight feels different. Charged, in a way. Like they’re standing at the cusp of something. Something more than this if they want it.

Nursey really wants it, so he pulls their hands onto his thigh as he says, “Sure, Dex.” He knows that Dex is going to be there, no matter what, with a freshly baked pie—or whatever else he’s baking that day, purely coincidentally—in hand to remind Nursey to take a break every now and then. He offers Dex a smile that Dex returns with a squeeze of their hands. “Is there anything you’re looking forward to, Cap’n?”

The flush that calling Dex any variation of captain procures will never get old, Nursey thinks. He wonders, briefly, what the skin would feel like under his fingers, his lips. “I know I said I’m nervous about the whole captaincy thing,” Dex starts, says it like he still can’t quite believe that he’ll get the C sewn onto his sweater in a week, “and I am, but I’m also kind of excited for the new freshmen. You know, getting to meet them and see what they’re like.”

“Oh, chill, yeah, definitely.” Nursey runs his thumb over Dex’s skin, where he knows a cluster of freckles sits at the joint of it. “Who’s gonna give them the tour of the Haus?”

Something shifts in Dex. When he catches Nursey’s gaze, Nursey can tell he’s even more vulnerable than before. Like he’s started to pry his ribcage open for Nursey to see. “I was thinking you, Chowder, and I could do it? Together.”

Nursey smiles, holding Dex’s beating heart in his palms. “Yeah, that’s chill. Can I show them the bylaws behind the boiler in the basement, though?”

Just like that, Dex’s gaze turns suspicious as he squints at Nursey. “I mean, sure. I guess?” Dex pauses for a moment and chases the look away with a drink of beer. “I was also thinking about maybe making a pie or two. It’s not a goodie bag, but you know. As a welcome thing.”

Nursey barks out a laugh. “Man, you’ve really turned into Bitty.”

“It’s a nice thing to do!” Dex defends, brows knitted together, but Nursey can tell he’s not seriously offended. “And it would feel weird to have this be the first year without one.”

“Chill, Dex, I’m just messing with you,” he says. He knows his voice is oozing with fondness; they’re lucky Whiskey is across the street and Chowder’s not here yet to fine them. “Do you know what you wanna call them yet? Because they’re gonna need a nickname.”

Dex sighs. “No fucking clue,” he admits, then immediately raises a warning hand before Nursey can even open his mouth. “Don’t even think about suggesting anything lobster related.”

“Rude,” Nursey complains and if he wasn’t busy holding Dex’s hand right now, he’d probably clutch his chest in mock offense.

“I was thinking of maybe actually going with Eggs, but I’m not sure yet.” Dex scrapes at the soggy label of his bottle for a moment before he turns his gaze back to Nursey, a soft smile on his lips. “I’ll figure something out. I don’t have to do it alone, right?”

Nursey smiles back. “Right.”

They fall silent then, with only the endless chirping of the crickets nearby mingling with the sloshing of the beer after occasional sips breaking through.It’s nice, being close to Dex like this. He really does make a fundamental part of Nursey just quiet; he manages to slow down his racing thoughts just by being here, manages to pull and keep Nursey in the present with him. Above, the stars twinkle on and as Nursey keeps running his thumb over Dex’s skin in nonsensical patterns, he thinks he really should ask Dex about any constellations he knows sometime. Just to watch his eyes light up the way they do when he talks about things that mean a lot to him.

Once Nursey’s bottle is empty, he sets it down next to his feet on the step below and clears his throat, angling himself a little more toward Dex. “Hey.”

Dex hums in acknowledgement, then tips his head back to get the last of his own beer out and leaves the empty bottle on his other side before he turns to Nursey with a quizzical look on his face. “What?”

“Is there something you haven’t done yet that you wanna do before college is, like, over for real?” Nursey asks, still calmly playing with Dex’s thumb.

“You mean like a college bucket list or something?”

Nursey shrugs. “Kind of, I guess, yeah.”

Dex doesn’t say anything for a moment; it looks like he’s searching Nursey’s face as he thinks. “Well,” he answers eventually and Nursey’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the nervous edge that’s crept into his voice, “there’s this guy I’ve liked for a while—”

“A guy, huh?” Nursey interrupts, a grin at home on his lips.

Something’s undeniably been growing between them over the summer. It probably started shortly after winning the Championship with Bitty, most likely, but it’s definitely blossomed over the summer. They’ve been clearly flirting over text ever since they left for break and that started to bleed into almost daily calls too. Not to mention all the Snaps they’ve sent each other after Nursey successfully pestered Dex into downloading the app within the first week. And if Nursey’s saved one or the other goofy, nostril-up or shirtless Snap Dex has sent him, then that’s nobody’s business but his own.

“Oh, you know, he’s so clumsy, it’s ridiculous,” Dex says and even though his voice is teasing, Nursey can still hear the fondness in it. “At the end of last year, we were at the dining hall for breakfast and he tripped over his own two feet and spilled his fucking cereal on one of Farmer’s teammates.”

Nursey cringes at the memory. The poor girl was drenched in milk with colorful froot loops hanging in her hair and dropping down onto her shoulders. If looks could kill, Nursey for sure would’ve dropped dead on the spot right then and there. He apologized to her profusely for a solid two minutes, even offered her his sweater. She still glared at him the next time Dex, Chowder, and he showed up at a party at the volleyball house a few weeks later.

He bumps into Dex’s shoulder and allows himself to linger there for a beat, his skin pressed against Dex’s shirt sleeve. “You’re an asshole.”

The laugh that tickles out of Dex is beautiful, Nursey wouldn’t mind hearing it over and over. “But he’s also really pretty. And kind and funny and smart. He always brings me a coffee to class if practice runs too late for me to stop by Annie’s.” His gaze drops to his own feet as he bites down on a grin, but he can’t fight the flush flooding his cheeks. Nursey figures it’s going to be a permanent thing now. Not that he minds; it’s cute. Dex brings his eyes back to Nursey’s and adds, “Today, I helped him move into the Haus and I almost caught my foot under a step going upstairs because I was staring at the way his arms flexed in that tank top as he carried a box.”

There’s only a faint recollection of this in Nursey’s mind; he remembers something like a dull thud and Dex swearing behind him while they were both hauling up heavy boxes of books, but he was too preoccupied with the thought of how bold Dex’s freckles are now after being exposed to all that sun over the summer. That’s not really news to him, what with all the Snaps and all, but seeing them in real life right in front of him when Dex’s grinning face greeted him earlier did throw him for a loop.

“He sounds like a real catch,” Nursey says, smiling. He’s aiming for chirping but lands about a mile north of it, squarely in lovestruck fondness.

“Yeah, he really is,” Dex agrees in a sure voice. Still, Nursey sees his nerves drawn all over his face, tucked between his freckles. “I think he likes me back and I’ve really wanted to kiss him for a couple months now.” 

Nursey can’t keep his own heartbeat from picking up as he leans a little further into Dex’s space, presses their knees together a little firmer. “Why haven’t you?”

“Well, I mean, I can’t just assume, right? There’s also a chance that I’ve read it all wrong and he doesn’t actually like me,” Dex reasons, serious like Nursey isn’t absolutely fucking gone on him for everyone to see.

“You haven’t,” Nursey says decisively, “Read this wrong, I mean. He’s just been waiting for you to make the first move.” He lets this sit between them for a moment, lets it linger until Dex is smiling at him, collects his own courage. He’s never felt more unchill in his life. “So if you really wanna kiss him, you should.”

Something on Dex’s face shifts until he looks almost giddy. Nursey feels it too, swooping low in his stomach and pumping in his chest. “You think so?” Dex asks, leaning closer to Nursey still.

“Yeah,” Nursey confirms with his eyes glued to Dex’s lips now, the air charged and crackling between them as he bridges another few inches, “yeah, I think so.”

Nursey’s heart threatens to leap out of his ribcage, right into Dex’s palms, as they both move in closer and closer, his eyes flutter closed when he feels Dex’s quick, warm breath on his skin.

But then Dex stops, a maddening fraction of an inch away from Nursey’s lips.

“You do know that I mean you, right?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to get Nursey to huff out a laugh. This is so like Dex and Nursey is so fucking into him, it’s ridiculous.

“Yeah, I got a pretty good idea,” he assures him, lips pulling back into a smile, “so, are you gonna kiss me now or what?”

That’s all the reassurance Dex needs before he finally, finally crosses the last of the space keeping them apart and Nursey finally, finally gets to press his smile against Dex’s.

Dex sighs into the kiss, almost like letting go of a breath he’s been holding for a long time, like he can finally breathe freely now. It takes all of Nursey’s brain power to keep from smiling too wide and breaking the kiss too early.

The thing is, Nursey’s thought about this. He’s not ashamed to admit he’s spent a sizable amount of time wondering what it would be like to kiss Dex, what kind of kisser Dex would be, where he’d put his hands on reflex. He pictured it happening at a Kegster, urgent and a little clumsy with hands under shirts; as a natural progression of a reunion hug after break, desperate and hard like they’d die if they didn’t, arms wrapped tightly around waists; after winning the Championship again, a little too much teeth and a lot of giddiness with sweaty palms cupping faces. He even pictured it happening just because, at the Haus kitchen table, in one of their rooms while a random show or movie plays in the background.

He didn’t consider it would happen like this, out here on the back porch at night after pouring their feelings out, their joined hands sitting on Nursey’s thigh. He wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

When they pull back eventually, after another kiss or two or three, Nursey’s thoughts are swimming with Dex, Dex, Dex. Nursey’s pretty sure he’s never been prouder than he is when he sees that Dex needs a second longer to open his eyes.

If he’s being honest, Nursey really wants to get up and climb into Dex's lap right now, feel his hands on his back his hips his thighs, link his own hands behind Dex's head as they take each other apart kiss by long-overdue kiss, maybe even push his hands into Dex’s hair now that he’s let his curls come in a little more. He doesn’t, though, not this time. He wants to do this right. There will be plenty of times for that, he thinks. Hopes.

Instead, he clears his throat and says, "For the record, that would've been my answer too."

"Good," Dex replies with his voice still a little raspy, all self-satisfied and smug, and Nursey has to admit that it looks good on him.

It's not roaming hands on his back, but when Dex untangles their fingers and cups Nursey's cheek so gently with one hand and leaves the other high on Nursey’s knee, pulling him into another kiss, he couldn't wish for anything else.

They kiss again and again, slow and sweet, chasing after each other’s lips if they dare to move away a little too far. By the time Nursey’s hand is splayed against Dex’s side, Dex moves his own to the back of Nursey’s neck to keep him there, as if there’s anything at all that could convince Nursey to stop kissing him anytime soon. 

But then Nursey shifts, trying to get a better angle for their next kiss, and knocks over the bottle at his feet. It tears them apart and they watch it roll down the stairs with the repeated clang, clang, clang of an empty glass bottle until it lands safely in the grass below. When they turn back toward each other, they can’t help but laugh.

“Did I mention that the guy I like is a massive klutz?” Dex asks, sounding dazed. He’s got a dopey look on his face that Nursey’s absolutely obsessed with.

Nursey huffs out a laugh again. “Shut up,” he replies, but it’s lacking any and all heat.

“Make me,” Dex teases and Nursey just has to lean in for another lingering kiss and then, because the way Dex hums into it is so addicting, one more. 

He gathers all his willpower to pull back after a third one and stays strong even when Dex chases after him again. “Do you wanna go on a date with me?” he asks, dragging his eyes back up to Dex’s when they threaten to get stuck on Dex’s lips once more. The lips Nursey now knows what it feels like to kiss over and over.

With the hand that’s still on the back of Nursey’s neck, Dex runs his thumb over Nursey’s skin there, scratching softly at his hairline. He wonders if Dex can feel the faint goosebumps, can feel what he does to him. “Yeah, that’d be—” He clears his throat again. “That’d be chill.”

“Chill,” Nursey repeats, but decides to leave the chirping for later. A laugh still escapes him as Dex rolls his eyes in response. “I’m gonna romance the hell out of you.”

“I fucking hope so,” Dex shoots back, then lets his eyes drop down to Nursey’s mouth again. “Does that mean we have to stop right now, though?”

“God, no,” Nursey replies and cups Dex’s jaw with the hand that’s not on Dex’s side and reel him back in.

As they kiss again and again and again, to the sound of the crickets and with the stars twinkling above, Nursey pushes his hand from Dex’s jaw over his shoulder until he can spread it between his shoulder blades to hold as much of him at once as he can.

Senior year, Nursey finds, doesn’t seem so scary after all.

[snackzimmerman]

It's a fight like anything they've had before, but Dex ends it by saying you're not my boyfriend, and Nursey ends it by saying nothing at all.

For something so very off the table for so many reasons, it's a contested thought in his brain. The words Dex and hockey have become synonymous, and somehow love has been roped in as well. Maybe that was what happened to Bitty and Jack - first you find your team, then you find your heart, because your passion is so intrinsic with that person.

Or maybe Nursey is a hopeless poet.

There's a sad song blaring, and he takes a minute before recognizing the playlist as his own. Or rather, one Holster slipped onto his phone before he left, claiming it's gotten me through some tough times, brah, and Ransom had retorted it's forced me through memorizing Adele.

Then it ends, and because Spotify has a cruel sense of humor, an ad starts playing. The woman advertising her podcast has a lot to say about love. Nursey wishes he has nothing to say on the matter at all.

An otherwise innocuous argument: Nursey had commented on how much Dex hasn't been around the Haus, even though he's captain now, and so kind of should be there for at least the freshmen if not his own best friends. Dex snipes back about how maybe Nursey should step it up, if he can’t even deal with things when Dex isn’t around, which had hit kind of too close to home. And then they’re yelling about some things that don’t matter and some that do, and a few emotional landmines are triggered -

And then Dex says that.

And Nursey replies yeah, I’m just the guy that’s in love with you, except he says it after Dex has slammed the door and gone, except that he doesn’t, because it turns out he didn’t go far at all.

What? Dex demands, shoving the door back open, and Nursey screams like a small child and locks himself in the bathroom over huffing and c’mon, Nursey, open the door.

Absolutely not, Nursey replies. You have to tell me when you’re going for the dramatic leaning-against-the-closed-door teen drama shot. It’s in the bylaws.

No, it’s not, Dex says, far more patient that he’s ever been - but that’s not true, is it? He’s managed his temper, and tempered his attitude. He’s been helping the freshmen and running the team and talking to coaches and doing everything except what Nursey selfishly wants him to do, which is stay close by at all times.

Nursey bites his lip, doesn’t bite his tongue. It should be.

You’re not my boyfriend, Dex repeats, and Nursey shoves the palm of his hand against his chest.

Thanks, Will, he calls sarcastically, letting his head thunk back against the mirror. Water leaks into his jeans from spillage on the sink.

You’re not my boyfriend, Dex says again, stubborn till the end, more sure. So could you get out here and let me ask if you’d like to be?

Nursey thinks maybe the cold of the leftover water has sent him into shock, but that maybe he doesn’t care, and then his fingers are fumbling with the lock before the anxious part of his brain can come up with hundreds of reasons why it’s fake, and Dex has his hands over his eyes like that can protect him from two hundred pounds of feelings.

Yeah? he gulps.

Dex straightens up and runs a hand through his hair. I’m gonna have to take you on a date first, I think that’s how it works, I’ve never - not like this.

Well, sure, Nursey sniffs. I’m not easy, Dex.

I’m well aware. Dex rolls his eyes, and Nursey shoves him in indignation, and mentally pencils them in for Annie’s.

[likeshipsonthesea]

“Nursey?”

Nursey blinks once, and then a second time when things are still blurry. He swivels his desk chair to face the doorway where there’s a smear of orange on top of gray that resolves itself into Dex after several more blinks. He’s wearing sweatpants that are a slightly different color gray than his sweatshirt. The only pops of color are the smears of purple under his eyes, the flush of his cheeks--pink and sweet like embarrassment--, and, of course, the nest of hair he’s forgotten to have cut for at least two months now.

Sometimes--fuck, but sometimes Nursey forgets how in love he let himself get. The fact that he has at least four different poems he could quote right now, a separate poem writing itself the longer he stares. He wishes he knew how it would feel to brush his thumb across that blush, to tuck his nose into the flyaway hairs behind Dex’s ear. He wishes he knew how to love without it ruining his goddamned life.

Really. It’s way too late--or early, god, what time is it--and Nursey needs every last braincell he’s got left to finish this scene for the script-writing class he somehow let Farmer talk him into but all he wants to do is sit here and watch a sleep deprived Dex blush as he lists into the door frame.

Before Nursey can think something utterly ridiculous like, oh, to be that door frame, he blinks really hard and asks, “What’s up, Dex-a-doodle?”

Dex must truly be exhausted because he doesn’t say anything about the nickname. “Are you--” he gestures vaguely in the direction of Nursey’s laptop.

Nursey spares a glance for his scene, which has remained six pages long for the past thirty minutes despite his best efforts. He closes the lid and turns back to Dex. “I’m free, what do you need?”

Sheepish, Dex pulls a stack of papers from behind his back. Nursey sighs. Really, he ought to bluster, ought to act annoyed and refuse to help, make Dex offer him any number of things in return for reading some of the worst writing he’s ever been unfortunate enough to have put in front of him, but--but it’s very late and Dex is soft and sleepy and illiterate and Nursey can’t argue himself out of simply wanting Dex to stay.

He holds out a hand. Dex grins, the slow, crooked thing he didn’t turn on Nursey until the end of their softie year, and he puts the essay into Nursey’s outstretched hand and takes a seat on Nursey’s bed while he waits.

Nursey turns back to his desk, reaching out idly for his red pen while he starts scanning the intro paragraph. After the first two rounds of edits, it doesn’t make him cringe immediately. There’s a typo here or there and a missing comma in the second paragraph, but Nursey finds himself smiling by the end of the second example. The thesis changed dramatically since the last time he read it--the second round of edits ended with a long, lengthy, and loud discussion of the subject material, during which Nursey may or may not have provided a caffeine-induced rant about the misreading of Shakespearean plays and despite the rather dazed look in Dex’s eyes upon the conclusion of said speech, some of it seemed to have made an impact.

“It’s good,” Nursey says, as he finishes reading, smiling to himself. “Now, don’t get too excited, it’s good for a STEM, but--” Nursey cuts himself off as he turns to find Dex asleep on the bottom bunk. He’s tipped the wrong way, feet resting beside the pillows, his neck bent awkwardly as his cheek presses into the quilt.

Nursey huffs a laugh at himself for the fierce swell of affection in his chest. He puts down the essay and the red pen and crosses to the bed, gently moving a pillow under Dex’s head. Out of it as he is, he doesn’t even stir, simply settles back down as Nursey pulls away.

Nursey turns back to his desk. He put the essay down on top of his laptop and he picks it up as he turns his computer back on. He skims the first page again, stupid smile on his lips. Who would’ve thought that Dex was actually listening to him, all this time.

The Word document pops onto the screen, shining too-bright light into the room. Nursey places the essay to the side and rereads the last two pages of his scene, finding himself continuing it effortlessly when he reaches the point he’d left off. He makes the page count before the hour is up and saves without rereading it, shutting the laptop and sending him back into a softer light. He braces himself and turns.

Dex sleeps away peacefully. Arms wrapped around himself, one leg pulled up towards his chest. Nursey lets himself watch without feeling guilty--he’s too tired for anything more complicated than fondness. Sometimes it really does feel so simple.

The truth; tonight Nursey is going to get ready to sleep as quietly as possible and somehow manage to trip on his way to the bed, and Dex will wake up, bleary and pink, make to sit up, make to leave, and Nursey will press him back down and tell him to, “Stay. Dex, just--stay,” and Dex will, because sometimes Dex listens, and Nursey will fall asleep counting the soft breaths below him.

The truth; Dex has really horrible takes on Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson, and most literature up to and including the Magic Treehouse books, but he never stops Nursey’s rants, and continues to ask for Nursey’s help, and his essays get nothing but better.

The truth; one day, Nursey is going to tell Dex about all the poetry, quoted and written, that Dex inspires in him, and Dex--Dex is going to listen.

[montrealmadison]

like branches in a storm

you know what? fuck it. i say they BOTH moved into the basement their senior year <3

Nursey wakes up on the morning of graduation with the distinct and uncomfortable impression that somebody’s glued him to the mattress.

Trying to sit up proves fruitless. He blinks up at the ceiling a few times instead, and the unfamiliar room resolves itself suddenly into the basement of the Haus: cramped but tidy, almost spartan now that its occupants are moving out in a few hours. All that’s left is a stack of neatly labeled boxes by the door, a few plants on the desk that are too big to be packed away. Two suits are all that remain in the closet, caps and gowns and hoods—one gold-edged, one white—piled on the shelf above them.

It takes a long moment to quell the fear that flutters low in Nursey’s gut at the sight. In two hours he’s going to get up and get dressed and then, carried forward on the relentless tide of pomp and circumstance, he’s going to have to leave this place that’s been his home behind.

He looks back up at the ceiling, at the pre-dawn light that washes across it through the one small window. It’s watery and cool, the sort of morning that promises sunshine—a perfect summer day, just in time for the ceremony.

Nursey decides that he’s going to be angry at the sun today.

He shuts his eyes tight against reality, goes to seek solace in the safety of his pillows—but he finds only Dex there, warm in the bed beside him. He’s turned over onto his stomach, one heavy arm slung across Nursey’s chest; slow, even breaths ruffle Nursey’s hair, tickle his cheek.

Well, Nursey thinks. That answers the glue question.

also on ao3

He exhales in relief, tucks his nose down into Dex’s shoulder, and tries to make himself relax by degrees. It’s no less heart-stopping to wake up to Dex today than it was when they first started dating, but it is familiar now, and that at least is enough to lull Nursey back to stillness for a while. He steadfastly tries not to think about anything other than the rise and fall of Dex’s back and—

For the second time in five minutes, Nursey’s brain says, Fuck it.

He can’t believe it’s their last morning in this room.

It still shocks him sometimes that he and Dex ended up here, curled up together where they’d once lived at each other’s throats. He definitely prefers this arrangement, the cozy closeness of sharing a room and a routine and a life, tangled up in each other.

Nursey’s never been happier, and so a part of him hates that he can’t help but dwell on the worst case scenario. He’s spent his last few months at Samwell worrying that this thing between them is too new, too precious, to survive outside of the place where they’d learned to respect each other at last.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it today, though, because at that moment a voice in his ear says, “Mornin’.”

When he turns, Dex is blinking at him across the pillow, all long lashes and five thousand freckles and the world’s most kissable nose. Nursey decides to do something about that last observation—mostly just so he can watch the slow curve of Dex’s smile as he pulls away.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Good morning.”

Under the covers, Dex stretches one leg and then the other, miles of sleep-warm skin brushing against Nursey’s calves. He hooks one foot over Nursey’s knee and tugs himself impossibly closer, buries his nose in the sweaty collar of Nursey’s t-shirt.

“Sorry,” says Nursey reflexively. Dex just shakes his head, mumbles something that might be either it’s fine or you smell, and presses his lips to the base of Nursey’s throat.

Gratified to be absolved either way, Nursey runs a hand up and down Dex’s back and tries to let the steady rhythm ground him.

“Babe.” Dex’s voice is scratchy and low when he speaks again. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Nursey answers, a shade too quickly. Dex pulls back a little to raise an eyebrow at him, silently calling bullshit. “Just, uh.”

Uh is about the only way he can think to describe it. The feeling welling up in his chest at the thought of leaving Samwell is too unwieldy to name—maybe it always has been. Definitely has been for the last two weeks he’s spent viciously pushing it down. Now, with the reality of graduation staring him in the face, his body’s no longer big enough to contain it. His mouth doesn’t know how to describe it. Words don’t fail Nursey often, but this morning they’ve deserted him entirely.

But beside him, Dex is quiet, patient, and Nursey feels like he owes it to him to try.

“I’m just,” he tries again, eloquently. “Today, you know? Excited. Scared. Little sad.”

“Huh.” Dex grunts and then lifts his head just enough to squint at his phone screen. “S’a lot of feelings for eight forty-five.”

“Well, just because you don’t have them until after nine,” Nursey retorts. He lets it hang, though, and scrubs his hands over his face, viciously swiping away a tear that threatens to escape.

Dex huffs out a sympathetic breath and drapes his arm back across Nursey’s chest. “M’chirpin’ you,” he murmurs, lips brushing Nursey’s forehead.

Nursey offers him a watery smile. “I know, Poindexter.”

They’re quiet again for a while—two floors up, Nursey hears the pipes protesting as someone tries to coax the shower up to a bearable temperature—before Dex adds, “I’m sad too. If it helps.”

Nursey has to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

Footsteps move past the basement door on their way into the kitchen—Chowder’s, maybe, or Whiskey’s. Big breakfasts are the order of the day on momentous mornings; Nursey knows he’ll start smelling biscuits and bacon whether championships are won or lost, exams are passed or failed, new relationships are to be celebrated or breakups gravely toasted with Tango’s leftover bowl of cereal milk.

Old habits die hard in this Haus.

“Funny thing is, though,” Dex says, and his voice brings Nursey back to the present: this boy, this bed, one last morning in the place that made them. “I kinda like you.”

“Oh, shit, you do?” Nursey asks, soft and wry and fond.

“Yeah.” When Dex smiles for real his eyes crinkle up at the corners, and Nursey loves him with a ferocity that no damn graduation can stop. “Maybe against my better judgment, but—ow, hey—hard to be too sad today when I know I’ll still have you at the end of it.”

“Thank God,” says Nursey. “Need someone watching my back.”

He tries not to let it show how much it buoys him, the simple reassurance that Dex likes his presence in his life. On such an uncertain day, though, he wonders if Dex knows just how badly he needed to hear it.

Dex's face gives nothing away when he snorts, digs a gentle elbow down into Nursey’s ribs. “Understatement of the year, babe.”

Call him a hopeless romantic, but Nursey’s brain flicks through all the maritime imagery it can think of: anchors, tides, lighthouses. Oh, that’s a good one—a light on the distant shore. Someone to guide him home, no matter where home turns out to be.

Somehow, he doesn’t think he’ll ever have to look much farther than this bed.

They’re quiet while the sky turns from gray to pink to gentle gold, while the sun comes up on an ending—and maybe, if Nursey is lucky, a beginning, too.

[parseisflat]

They’ve never babysat for Jack and Bitty before, but Nursey’s seriously wondering why they haven’t until now. 

“You got it, Maya,” Dex coaxes, holding onto Maya’s pink gloved hand as they step onto the ice rink. Nursey didn’t think he could fall any harder for Dex, but he was immediately proven wrong when he saw how good he was with Maya. 

Most people spoke to kids in a high, slightly patronizing voice, but Dex talked to Maya like she was an adult. Just… a tiny, pigtailed adult who was learning to skate for the first time. Just the sight of her was enough to make anyone melt. He was seriously starting to consider stealing her while Jack and Bitty were off being successful adults. They wouldn’t notice until it was too late.

“Uncle Derek,” Maya whines, shuffling her tiny feet along the ice at an incredibly cautious pace. Nursey takes her free hand.

“We got you,” he reassure her. “Move your feet like this, okay? Yeah, exactly. Just keep moving. You got it.”

It feels strange, revisiting the roots of skating. Of hockey. He remembers Mama teaching him to skate when he was around Maya’s age, just as terrified of the ice as her, but just as eager too. 

“I’m gonna be a figure skater like Daddy was,” she tells them matter-of-factly. Slowly, they begin to move away from the wall and closer to the middle of the rink. Maya doesn’t even notice.

“No hockey?” Dex inquires, and she wrinkles her nose in response. Nursey bursts out laughing when she shakes her head vehemently.

They make a few loops around the rink, until inevitably Maya wants to be more independent, so they grab a bucket for her to hold onto and trail a few feet behind as she scoots her way along. “Yeah, Maya!” Dex cheers under his breath, and Nursey’s so content he’s giggling just to let all of it out. Actually giggling. He hasn’t done that since Samwell.

Maya gets tired after about an hour and skates off on her own, depositing the bucket back onto the stack where she got it without even being asked to. “Jack and Bits trained her well,” Nursey mumbles. “I was such a brat at her age.”

“At her age?” Dex raises an eyebrow, and Nursey gently checks him into the wall, skating out a few seconds before Dex like it’s a race. (In Nursey’s head, it is). 

Nursey grasps her hand again firmly and leads her to the side, adjusting her hat - Ford knitted it for her - as she goes. They change their shoes quickly as Maya determinedly pulls at her own skates without any assistance, still working on the first one by the time Nursey and Dex are finished.

Dex’s calloused hand grasps Nursey’s gloved one and they stand, shoulders together, watching Maya finally yank her left skate off with a huff. 

Nursey imagines a home of their own, filled with children Maya’s age running around brandishing crayons and flinging grubby hands around Dex’s neck. Something inside of his chest aches, and he imagines again: Dex, with a ring on his finger, and no kids this time, just the two of them. He would fill the walls with books, and Dex would walk around with his toolbox stitching their home together.

Maya is still preoccupied with her other skate, so Nursey pulls Dex to him and kisses him with fervor until Dex is pulling away with a blush. Nursey can’t help himself, though, so he pulls Dex in for one more tiny, chaste kiss.

“What?” Dex laughs slightly.

Nursey doesn’t say anything for a moment, just takes in every inch of Will’s face that he can. The freckles dusting his cheeks, and the wrinkles beginning to line his eyes and mouth. “Nothing,” he says finally. “I just love you.”

for @nurseyweek2021 day four: future

[omgdexnursey]

can you feel it the way i do?

also on ao3 || title from “the name of the game” by abba

check, please! and its characters belong to ngozi

***

Dex spins around in his chair when he hears a small knock on his door. Nursey’s standing in the doorway, watching him. His eyes dart away when Dex turns to him and although his expression is carefully reserved, he can’t quite figure out what to do with his hands. 

“Hey Dex,” he starts, looking everywhere except actually at Dex. “Can I ask you to do me a huge favor?” 

“Uh. Sure.” Dex stands. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nursey rubs the back of his neck. “So my cousin’s getting married this weekend and I kinda told her I was bringing you?”

“Okay…” Dex says slowly.

“I mean, you totally don’t have to go if you don’t want to, I’ll just make up an excuse for why you can’t go—”

“Nursey,” Dex cuts him off, frowning slightly. “I’ll go.”

Nursey blinks, surprised. “You will?”

“Yeah.” Dex doesn’t really understand where Nursey’s shock is coming from, but maybe Nursey’s just been so wrapped up in his own head lately that he’s convinced himself Dex wouldn’t want to go.

Nursery cocks his head. “And you’re okay with… being my date in front of my family?”

Dex nods. Again, he tries to get a grasp on Nursey’s strange behavior, but he can’t figure out what’s got him so tightly wound. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. I just thought it might be kinda weird for you to…” He shakes his head. “Never mind.” The tension in his face disappears, replaced by a relieved smile. “Thank you so much. I’ll take you out to Annie’s when we get back. My treat.” 

He’s gone before Dex can say anything else. 

Dex turns back to his computer, trying to shake the feeling he’s missing something. 

*

Nursey can’t believe how well this is going. 

Truly, everyone knows of the Derek Nurse charm — which Dex absolutely refuses to acknowledge — but Dex is currently giving him a run for his goddamn money, all sweet smiles and delicate laughs and easy conversations. 

Nursery watches him talk to the newlyweds from his table. The way Dex looks at them, attentive and with genuine interest in what they’re saying, warms Nursey’s chest. Dex catches his eye over his cousin’s shoulder and winks and there is absolutely no reason it should kick-start Nursey’s heart like it does. 

Sure, he would’ve liked to bring Dex as his real date, but he’ll settle for this. He just cannot believe how effortless this whole thing’s been. He’d been prepared for this to feel awkward and inorganic, but Dex had calmly introduced himself to some of Nursey’s extended family and jumped at the opportunity to tell them about the embarrassing things Nursey’s been up to at school.

The strangest thing is that Dex isn’t even acting all that different. He’s definitely dialing up his Interacting With Near-Strangers skills, but barring them holding hands and being a little bit more touchy, there isn’t some completely separate persona he’s presenting. 

Nursey sees the conversation wrap up as his cousin and her husband move on to talk to other guests, and Dex slinks over, pulling off his jacket. 

“Hey Nurse,” he says, draping the jacket over the back of his chair. “You wanna dance with me?”

Nursey almost drops his glass. “Uh. Sure.”

Dex holds out his hand and Nursey takes it, letting him lead them to the dance floor. A slow song plays, drawing other couples onto the floor. 

Nursey wraps his arms around Dex’s neck and Dex slides his hands down to Nursey’s waist. 

“You’re really good at this,” Nursey says.

Dex squints quizzically at him, but shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I like weddings. They’re fun.”

“Are you having fun?”

Dex grins. “You’d know if I wasn’t.” He spins Nursey in a smooth circle. 

“You timed this dance well.”

“I requested this song, actually.” Dex ducks his head shyly. “It played at one of my uncles’ weddings and it kinda stuck with me as a wedding song.”

“I’m really glad you came with me,” Nursey says suddenly. He doesn’t know what compelled him to say it, but Dex’s face brightens and the lighting makes him look so soft that Nursey wants to pull him into the bathroom and kiss him senseless. He made a deal with himself though, that he wouldn’t let himself get carried away.

“I’m glad you invited me,” Dex says. As the song fades to the end, he dips Nursey gently and kisses him on the cheek.

“Careful Poindexter,” Nursey says, struggling to conceal how starstruck he is. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were in love with me.” 

Dex rolls his eyes, smile crooked even when he replies, “Isn’t that the point?”

With that, he breaks the spell, reminding Nursey that all of this is just Dex being an incredibly good sport in helping him save face in front of his family. A hard weight settles in his stomach.

He quickly disentangles himself from Dex’s arms. “I, uh, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Ignoring his heart racing in his chest, he speed walks towards the doors, not daring to look back as he flees.

*

“Thanks again,” Nursey says on their walk to Annie’s. It’s after midnight, probably approaching one in the morning, but a promise is a promise. And, Nursey wants to go anyway. “I really appreciate you coming.”

“Like I said,” Dex says, strolling leisurely, hands tucked into his pockets, “weddings are fun.”

“I know pretending to be someone’s date can be super uncomfortable but you were really chill about it—”

“Wait.” Dex stops walking. “What are you talking about?”

Nursey stops too. “You were a lot less freaked out about fake dating me than I thought you’d be. I mean, you had everybody in there convinced we were together. Even I almost started to believe it.” 

“Oh.”

Nursey glances at Dex. “What’s the matter? You look upset. I think. I can’t really tell what’s going on.”  

“Well, um. If I’m being honest,” Dex mumbles, looking up at the full moon, “I thought we were dating.” 

“Oh.” 

Dex sucks air in through his teeth. “Yeah.”

“Oh shit.” 

Dex bites his lip. “Sorry,” he says, embarrassment painting itself onto his face as he flushes. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You’re right, you should’ve told me,” Nursey says glumly, because he’s an asshole. He only waits a beat before adding, “I spent that whole time wishing it was real only to find out it was after the fact.”

It takes a second for Dex to realize what Nursey’s trying to say, but Nursey knows exactly when it does because he hears his sharp intake of breath. 

“This... We— Us—” Dex tries.

“Take your time,” Nursey teases.

“Shut up Nursey. I just went from ‘we’re dating’ to ‘shit we’re not dating’ to ‘we could actually be dating’ in the span of like a minute.”

“What made you think we were dating?” Nursey asks out of pure curiosity. 

“Umm, because we go on dates?”

“We do?”

“Like, you always ask me to go to Jerry’s with you or that one time you invited me to the art thing for one of your classes.” Dex pulls at the hair curling around the base of his neck. “We hang out by ourselves a lot so I just kinda figured…” He gestures with his hands. “Though I did think it was a little excessive that you were taking me to a wedding and then on a follow-up date, but I wasn’t about to complain.”

“You thought I’d take you on that many dates and not kiss you?”

Dex shrugs. “I don’t know how you like to do things.”

Nursey shakes his head, a fond smile softening his features. “Well,” he says, threading his fingers through Dex’s, “I guess you’re about to find out.”

[backwardscapsmh]

HI TESS I DIDNT JNOW YOU WERE TAKING PROMPTS maybaps some gay hockey dads + smh not knowing theyre together or something along those lines🥰

yep!! and i love writing gay hockey dad fic (this one is not going to be angsty i swear) so thanks annie! i hope u like it! 🥰💕

Samwell was known to be a welcoming and safe environment for LGBT students. The “1 in 4″ rule didn’t exist for no reason. Still, it was hard to change decades of homophobic and toxic hockey culture in the locker room. But Hall and Murray try anyway.

After all, they were young queer athletes once. The constant, lips sealed, eyes down, don’t touch, don’t stare, don’t draw attention was their mantra. Keep your mouth shut because no one can know. Any hope of NHL stardom and acceptance from other players would disintegrate as soon as any rumors started and you didn’t say “God no! Gross!” fast enough.  So they try. Try to make sure they never even hear a whisper of anything homophobic. Try to make sure players feel safe at the rink. Try to make sure that players know they can be who they are without fear. Try to let them know they can breathe and just exist. They try to protect their students in a way that they needed when they played.  But it’s still hockey, and they live in a heteronormative society so none of the boys actually notice the small pride flag in their office. None of them see the matching wedding rings (which to be fair are pretty small but still). None of them seem to realize that they’re together, in love, married.  So it becomes a game: how many times can we be gay in front of our students (while remaining professional) without them realizing? As it turns out, a lot.

_/ \_

The game itself started when they ran into Bitty at the Whole Foods a whole 25 minute drive from Samwell, which usually doesn’t have blond baking hockey players who can’t drive. Lord knows how Bitty got there to begin with.  They’re not being very subtle if they’re being completely honest. Murray is definitely wearing Hall’s shirt (not that Bitty would know that) and they’re standing way too close for professional colleagues to be standing. Never mind the fact that they are clearly grocery shopping together, which implies a certain living situation. But in their defense, they usually don’t see any students from Samwell at a Whole Foods that is a 25 minute drive from campus.

“Oh goodness!” Bitty says cheerfully upon seeing them in the flour isle. “Hello!”

“Hello Eric,” Hall replies smoothly, as if him and Murray were not internally freaking out about seeing Eric Bittle at Whole Foods on 7 pm on a Saturday night.

“Hey Bittle,” Murray adds, raising a hand in greeting. “No big plans this Saturday?”  “Oh no. I’m here to find a specific type of flour for a new project I’m trying out!” Bitty says absentmindedly, scanning labels on the shelf before them. “Ah! Here it is! Well, I’d better get going. See you at practice!”

And then he’s gone.  “Do you think he noticed?” Hall asks turning to Murray.

“Nah, he still hasn’t figured out that Jack’s into him yet,” Murray laughs, taking a package of flour from the shelf. “And we’re getting whole wheat flour this week Haller, you can’t argue with me.”

And thus, the game begins.

They run into Dex and Nursey at Annie’s one day and they’re definitely holding hands at the time. Dex and Nursey seem too busy trying to not make it look like they’re on a date themselves to notice the fact that their coaches are on one.

Jack walks in on them having an argument on whose turn it is to make dinner that night in their office once. He doesn’t seem to notice the topic of discussion because he’s too busy pulling out his play book from his bag.

Shitty completely misses it when Murray accidentally lets it slip that he has a husband when Shitty starts complaining about playing Harvard and their “homophobic douche-ery.”  Ransom and Holster witness Hall slide an arm around Murray’s waist when they walk towards the Dartmouth locker room. Ransom simply comments that “it’s nice that their coaches are best friends” before running ahead to catch up with Holster. Hall and Murray just laugh. 

Lardo and Chowder run into them picking up pizza one Friday night. Lardo nods in acknowledgement and Chowder enthusiastically says “hello.” Both of them miss Hall wearing a coaching jacket with “Murray” stitched on the chest. 

As it turns out, no one on the Samwell Men’s Hockey team is remotely aware of their relationship. But the secret comes out eventually.

_/ \_

It’s after a particularly rough game against Boston. Everyone is tired and a little sad because of the loss. There were a few rough hits too, so a few people have bruises.

As everyone gets off of the bus, Hall and Murray open the doors to the compartments holding the luggage below the bus.

“Can you handle making sure everyone gets their luggage out? Because if so I can grab Larissa and go get keys for everyone,” Murray says after the doors are completely opened.  “For sure. Thanks honey,” Hall says grabbing their shared bag and handing it to Murray, absentmindedly kissing Murray on the cheek as he does so.

“Uhm.”

“Huh?!”

“What the fuck?!”

“How?”

“When?!”

Both coaches turn, met with the shocked faces of the entire Samwell Men’s Hockey team.