#nurseydexweek

[zimmerdouche]

NurseyDex: Pink

Pink it was love at first sight, Yeah, pink when I turn out the light, And pink gets me high as a kite And I think everything is going to be all right No matter what we do tonight

Pink - Aerosmith

[nanlicia]

27 + whatever you're feelin the most

27. “I don’t give a damn.” “You give so many damns, they’re visible from space.”

NurseyDex Week Day 6 - Soft

I was inspired by those prompts lol. It’s softer than the first implies but oh well haha thanks baby! Also... has anyone realized yet that at the current time of the comics, the summer they’re about to go into is The Summer of Pokemon Go?! :D haha anyway, I listened to this while writing this to set the mood, so if anyone wants a soundtrack to this here ya go :)

“She’s got 585 CP,” Dex is saying excitedly into the phone, and Derek can practically hear the smile on the other man’s face. “She’s beautiful, I can’t believe I found her.”

“I’ve caught like 6 Ponyta already,” Derek says, barely containing his own smirk.

“Whatever,” Dex grumbles, and it’s almost enough to make Derek regret ruining his happy moment. “I don’t give a damn.”

Derek laughs. “You give so many damns they’ve visible from space.”

“Do not,” Dex says. “Besides, that screenshot you sent me showed like a hundred of these stops around your building, you can just sit your happy ass at home and collect the Pokemon. I actually have to leave my house? By car? To get to half of the ones in my town.”

“Not my fault you live in a tiny nothing town in a tiny nothing state,” Derek says smugly.

“Stop speaking nonsense about things you know nothing about, Nurse.”

Derek laughs.

The line goes quiet for a moment, the only sounds the clinking of dishes and the closing of cupboards from the other side. Derek snuggles deeper under the blankets.

He’s lying in bed, covered in three warm quilts, the cool AC on, and the only light the fairy ones tacked over his window.

He adjusts his hold on his phone, imagining Dex walking around the small kitchen in his parent’s home in Maine, making himself something to eat after his late-night Pokemon Go adventures.

Derek hears a door open down the hallway in his own home, and then footsteps in the hall. He waits for a knock but it doesn’t come, the footsteps carrying past his room and toward the main living space of their home.

He figures his dad is probably gonna make himself a midnight snack too, and he considers joining him for the briefest of moments, but doesn’t wanna end the call with Dex. Not... not yet.

“Your parents don’t care you’re making so much racket at 1 am?” Derek asks.

“Nah, they’re heavy sleepers,” Dex says.

Derek hums into the phone, pulling at a loose thread in his quilt. “My dad is such a light sleeper I think he’s walking the hall as we speak. Gonna come in here and tell me to keep it down.”

Dex laughs softly. “You’re practically whispering as it is.”

“I know,” Derek says, smiling.

“Well I... I hope he doesn’t.”

Dex’s voice has gone soft, gentle, low. It makes Derek’s chest warm from the inside out.

“Me neither,” Derek whispers.

He can hear Dex sigh deeply on the other end and suddenly Derek wishes so badly to be in that kitchen with him. Or to have Dex in this bed with him. To wrap around him under these quilts and hold him close.

They’ve been doing these midnight calls all summer, and with each one Derek finds himself falling a little for this man, and with each one he wonders if he’s not the only one.

Dex is just so... soft. At midnight. Quiet. Content.

Usually he’s lying in bed too and they talk about their days and they bitch about their summer work and how soon they’ll have to head back to the Haus for the pre-season SMH stuff.

But honestly, Derek is getting less and less upset about the prospect of being back at Samwell with each passing day.

Every time Dex speaks quietly into the phone, his voice raspy and sleepy, his words starting to slur together, Derek can’t wait to finally be in the same place as him. To hear Dex be sleepy and see how it affects him in person. To have that every single day and every single night.

Derek is gone on him, and he’d be a little more upset about it if he wasn’t so. sure. it was reciprocated.

Because Dex has been really sweet to him. Being kind and flirty and considerate and fond. God, Derek can tell when Dex’s voice takes on this particular quality, like when Derek is sleepy and feeling particularly silly and he says the most random things and Dex will respond in a way that makes Derek picture him with his head tilted sideways and this dumb smile on his face that Derek hasn’t really ever seen but he’s imagined it so much this summer.

He’s imagining it now. Dex standing in his kitchen, half-made pb&j sandwich sitting on the counter and Dex smiling sweetly down at where his phone sits on the counter next to the bread, his ear phones dangling from his ears.

“Hey Dex,” Derek says.

“Yeah?” Dex asks, and he sounds so much more quiet now than he did moments ago when he was excited about catching a Ponyta tonight.

Derek turns on his side, pressing his phone into the pillow with his face and staring at the city of Manhattan out his bedroom window. All the lights make him feel warm and fuzzy, and Dex’s presence on the other end of the line makes him feel safe and content, and Derek feels this longing in the depths of his soul.

“Can we do this?” Derek asks quietly, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels. “You know - these midnight talks - can we make this a thing? When we’re moved in at the Haus and we’re sharing the room, can we have these midnight talks then too?”

“God, of course Nursey,” Dex says, breathing lightly into the phone and damn if Derek doesn’t hear that fondness in his voice there.

It’s deep and raw and that yearning in Derek’s body is physical and not going away and if Derek has got it all wrong here he’ll make a fool of himself but if he’s right about even part of this Dex is falling in love with him too and from the sounds of it it just might kill them both before they can even make it to the second week of August to get back to the Haus.

But Derek will take it, he’ll take dying every night being here alone in his bed with Dex on the phone if it means he gets to live even one night holding him tight when they’re in the same place again.

“Great,” Derek says, and his own voice is raspy now. “I can’t wait.”

“Me either,” Dex breathes, soft spoken and light and airy.

Derek stretches out in his bed and then pulls his quilts tighter around himself. He stares out at the city, listening to Dex continue to make his food on the phone and watching the lights twinkle in the distance, letting it lull him to peaceful sleep.

[oddree13]

How Many Onesies Does a Baby Need?

Written for Nursey/Dex Week Day 7: Future Nursey/Dex

Nursey/Dex Week: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7

(Read on AO3)

It started with a trip to the mall when Dex’s sister sent out her baby shower announcement.

“How many onesies does a baby need?” Derek asked, looking at the registry on his phone as they walked through the store. “Also why is it all pink?”

“Dere, not everyone decided that gender roles were last century,” the redhead chirped, and walked them through the store to the baby area.

Dex was about to point out the bib pack when he turned around and lost sight of Nursey.

Walking back he found Derek staring at a tiny tuxedo.

“It’s just so small,” he cooed, staring at the set. “Dex, it’s so little!”

“Babies are little, Derek,” he laughed, but found a fond smile on his face as he took in the sight of his boyfriend fawning over baby clothing.

“Come on, let’s get stuff off the registry and go. If we have time I’ll even endure the paper store for you,” he bargained, and was able to pull Derek back towards the infant section. His peace didn’t last long though.

Every time Derek saw clothing he deemed problematic he made a point of shaming the offending fabric and ranting about sexualizing children and social coding.

It wasn’t until he stumbled upon a set of shirts that depicted notable presidents, including Kennedy, Teddy Roosevelt, and Obama, that he actually shut up. Dex didn’t think much of it, but he could tell that Derek was having a weird internal debate.

“What’s up?” he asked, nuding his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Nothing just thinking something really strange,” he laughed, and tried to keep a straight face that didn’t let Dex see what he was really thinking.

“What? Are you upset that they are trying to politicize children too early?” he replied, hoping that it wasn’t the case.

“No, I just thought these would be dope shirts for future kids, and it sucks that they won’t be around by the time we’re having kids,” he mumbled.

Dex was a little surprised. Sure they were living together and had stable jobs, but neither of them had ever brought up marriage, let alone kids.

“Buy them then,” was what Dex found himself replying.

“What?”

“Buy them. They’re cool shirts, and you’re right they won’t be around in the future so get them. We’ll put them somewhere and when we make a registry we don’t have to worry about historical shirts,” he teased.

“Chirp chirp,” Derek replied, but leaned in to kiss his boyfriend before taking the shirts off the rack in various sizes and brought them to the counter.

***

It kept going when Derek’s moms visited Cuba, where his Mami was from, and came to their apartment to show them all the goods they brought back.

“It was so hard not bringing back a whole suitcase full, but we did buy a lot,” Pilar confessed, as she showed Dex photo after photo.

“Yes I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t wrangle her at the best of times,” Gloria smiled fondly and began to take out what they brought back for the two boys.

“We got you each a cigar. I know you don’t smoke, but just in case,” Pilar began pointing at the first package. “Derek we got you some local poetry, and Will we found a book about the cadillacs they still use there and maintenance. We also got you assorted decorations and a recipe book,” she explained, but paused on the last package.

“This one is my fault,” Gloria confessed, as he passed it to Derek. “I just love the photos of your mom and her siblings in these dresses and shirts so I grabbed a few in case you ever had children of your own,” she smiled, clearly not trying to pressure her son.

Derek opened the package to see some linen dresses, hand embroidered, and three guayabera. He had two like these growing up for family gatherings and couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you. Really,” he beamed, placing down the package between him and Dex as he hugged his moms.

Dex took the pile of fabric and ran his hand over the crisp linen and smiled. “We know just where to put them,” he assured them, and couldn’t stop smiling.

***

It ended as Dex and Nursey were walking through the store, a scanner in hand.

“After seeing half of our friends at this, I think we need to double the amount of onesies, but vary the sizes so we aren’t just stuck with infant clothing,” he pointed out, scanning an obscenely large stuffed giraffe.

“Derek a baby does not need that,” he sighed, looking at the size of the toy.

“No, but their sister does,” he pointed out.

The Poindexter-Nurse household had found a six month old to adopt, but the mother had also putting her four year old sister for adoption and the men were not about to separate a siblings.

“No she doesn’t, but let’s see who actually picks it up for her,” he grinned, knowing that their former teammates were eager to spoil the two new additions.

“Besides, it isn’t like we don’t have a bunch of ridiculous stuff that we’ve bought over the years,” he laughed thinking of their small horde of things.

“No you aren't wrong there,” Dex chuckled and scanned the next item on their list.

[randomnoteforfuturereference]

Poindexter Plot Twist

It may not be noticeable with first impressions, but Will’s big brother's actually the “woke” one when the two boys were growing up.

All prior teasing wasn’t to keep his little bro “manly” but rather crude attempts to break that insecure obsession towards heteronormative ideas of masculinity. Though it kinda fell flat when he himself was pretty masculine and met all the traditional expectations at home.

Once the pie was made for Hausgiving and the photo uploaded, all the “not living it down” was in the form of sarcastic “the sky is falling fabulously”-type chirps. So many chirps.

And then there came the subject of Derek Nurse. There were only so many phone calls filled with complaints… then comments (with the frequent complaint)… about Will’s fellow d-man before the mental gears started turning. Doubt became banished as he saw the two boys interacting in-person during Nurse’s visit to Maine. Despite his progressive outlook, that realization still caught the elder Poindexter off-guard.

Still, that initial shock was replaced by fond exasperation and glee at his now-not-so-little bro’s obliviousness (or denial…), and he made that known with vague encouragement-laden chirps and shit-eating grins. At the same time, and without tipping his hand (as he doesn't want to instigate a nonconsensual outing), he’d have frequent discussions with Ma and Pa to get a reading on how they’d react to a potential announcement; from there, seeing what he can do to help smooth things over.

Because he’ll always have his bro’s back.

[fabermemorialrink]

Day 2 of nurseydex week (bed sharing/room sharing)! Continues in the same universe as day 1.

“Come on up,” Dex says as he unlocks the door. There are trees lining the sidewalk in front of the brick building, and at this time of night, even only a few streets away from the nearest T station, the city is quiet. It’s as quaint as you can get in a metropolitan setting without having to move far west enough to wind up in the suburbs, and Dex admits that he’s grown used to it.

“I’m still blown away by how good you got at riding the subway,” Nursey says, nudging him with an elbow as they climb the stairs to Dex’s fourth floor apartment. “Remember that time you somehow wound up over in Queens?” he asks, teasing.

“That’s because your stupid train routes make zero sense,” Dex gripes.

“You’re a smart guy, Dex; you can figure out public transportation. I believe in you. Besides, it’s not that much better here.”

“It’s easier! There’s only five lines.” Nursey rolls his eyes.

“And I quote, ‘The green line is literally the fifth circle of hell and I hate everyone on it, including myself.’ Said by you only three weeks ago. Insightful, really.” 

“One, that was a one-off comment, and two, okay, it wasn’t. I mean that always; the green line is a travesty and a curse. Trains are bad.”

“Well, I’m just proud of you for not throwing down against the ticket machine,” Nursey laughs.

They're more or less meandering upwards, slowly working off the heaviness of dinner and drinks. In the cool stillness of an early June evening, the glow of a late summer sunset seems still to be hanging in the air even though the day grows late. A thin line of music can be heard from through the walls - Édith Piaf, from what Dex can make out as they pass.

Nursey’s fingers brushes against Dex’s as they round the last flight, and Dex instinctively resists his desire to link their hands, then remembers that he can totally do that now. So he does, taking Nursey’s hand, then forcibly cracking two of his knuckles; Nursey yelps, and reflexively clenches his fingers hard around Dex’s until he’s wincing too.

“Ow, you dick, I’m trying to compliment you here,” Nursey says with a pout, and Dex leaves a kiss on the back of his hand before letting them into his apartment.

Nursey has a tendency these days to turn into jelly when he's both sleepy and a little drunk, so they manage to get a glass of water in him and kiss lazily against Dex’s fridge for a few minutes until he starts to dissolve into pudding in Dex’s arms.

“Well, that answers one question,” Dex says into a sea of dark curls as Nursey tries again to nap vertically on him and they begin listing toward one side.

“Mmm, yeah, I think the only sleeping with you I’m up to right now is the literal kind,” Nursey mumbles against his throat, and Dex gently starts walking them backwards toward his bedroom.

“Sounds good to me.” He keeps one hand at Nursey’s waist and the other at the small of his back to guide him across the floor. Nursey’s arms are still wrapped around him like a kite in a tree, but they manage despite his tendencies.

“I take back everything I said about your dancing skills,” Nursey says as Dex turns them so he can drop him softly on the bed without Nursey sending them both crashing to the ground.

“Pretty fly for a white guy, eh?”

“Wow, okay, never mind.” Nursey laughs quietly into the pillow as Dex flips him off and returns to undoing the buttons on his shirt. It's one that Dex recognizes, which means they've been dating for long enough that Dex has started to memorize the contents of Nursey's closet again. The thought doesn't annoy him the way it did back in school, when he’d reach for a shirt and come up with a soft-knit sweater because Nursey had accidentally stolen his clothes again.

Nursey’s hands come up to bracket Dex’s hips as each button is freed. They're older now, obviously, but he still looks as sweetly pliant as he used to those odd nights Dex helped put him to bed after a kegster. It had been a different kind of yearning back then, new and undefined and terrifying, too much for the fragile peace they were building between themselves to explore. That was the working excuse anyway, more and more inapplicable as time went on, but it was what Dex held onto to protect his heart.

Now, he can lean down and press a kiss to Nursey’s lips if he wants to, his heartbeat only skipping because Nursey can still leave him breathless no matter how many years pass. He does so, and Nursey tries to tug him down to the sheets as well, but he slips free.

“Nope, not yet. Your morning breath is bad enough as it is; it’s biological warfare when you don’t brush your teeth.”

Nursey whines, reaching for the hem of Dex’s shirt to try and ensnare him again. “Can't you just pour some mouthwash down my throat and call it a day?”

“Is drowning in listerine really the way you wanna go out?”

“Going out the way I came in: minty fresh.”

“Not tonight, you’re not,” Dex says, kicking off his socks as he walks toward the bathroom. He drops clothes as he goes - belt, and shirt, and undershirt - like a sexy striptease trail, except it’s not sexy; he’s just fucking lazy. He kept a lot of the habits he developed through a childhood of living in a crowded house with little personal space and privacy, but sometimes he indulges in the luxury of living on his own, and does stuff like throwing his clothes wherever he wants and eating nutella straight out of the jar with a spoon. Chowder was a terrible influence on his life.

He’s brushing his teeth when Nursey finally shuffles in wearing sweatpants and a Samwell Theater t-shirt (signed by Ford in sharpie) he stole from Dex’s drawers. He drapes himself over Dex’s shoulders and reaches around him to grab his brush and blindly squeeze toothpaste onto the bristles. He winds up with a glob as large as a floret of cupcake frosting and winces when it prickles on his tongue.

They fall back into the old patterns they grew used to while living together in college, pretending to jostle for space while they brush even though the only use Dex has for the mirror is to make faces at Nursey and Chowder through their reflections. Dex finishes washing his face first and backs away from the sink to give Nursey room. Like always, he's a step too slow to avoid the claw of death swooping in to smear moisturizer on his face in three pale streaks; with a customary grimace, he allows it to happen before rubbing the lotion vigorously in, ignoring the way Nursey shakes his head in disappointment.

Nursey is indeed minty fresh when they kiss again, but still as structurally sound as a melting flan, so Dex maneuvers them back to bed. Because he’s a considerate person even when only half-awake, Nursey has tossed all of Dex’s shedded clothing onto his chair so they don’t wind up a very romantically injured accident on the floor. They flop onto Dex’s slightly too-small-for-two bed foregoing the covers even though the summer heat hasn’t grown sticky yet.

“You wanna be the big spoon or the little spoon?” Nursey asks, turning his head against Dex’s pillow to watch him with those lovely eyes, half-lidded and sentimental. He’s probably composing something in his head again, twirling language together in ways Dex couldn’t even dream of. Nursey needs to write in the same way other people need to feel sunlight on their skin, and Dex has always admired the tenacity he knows it must take for him to keep writing even when the words don't come easy.

“How ‘bout the soup spoon,” he replies as he wraps an arm across Nursey’s waist. Nursey sleeps flat on his back anyway, so cuddling isn't very effective, but Dex knows being held makes him feel more grounded. He leaves his palm resting on one sharp hipbone, tracing arcs with his fingertips. Just a small physical reminder that this is real. That what they have is real.

“Okay, you can be the salad fork and I'll be the demitasse,” Nursey says, smiling when Dex squints at him.

“You have seen in person that I don’t know what any of those things are,” Dex grumbles. He’s been to a handful of these ridiculous functions that Nursey’s family has to attend on occasion, and resigned himself to surreptitiously studying other people before picking up a utensil. At least the food is always stellar. Luckily, Nursey’s parents are some of the most down-to-earth people that Dex has ever met, and have no problem eating easy mac out of mugs with them at Nursey’s place when they come to visit.

“Chill, Dex. I can teach you. A demitasse is just a small coffee cup. Demi is half, and tasse is cup. And a salad fork is a fork that you eat salads with. Salad is salad and fork is fork.”

“Informative. I can see why you always get five out of fives.”

Nursey gives him a little burst of a laugh, scooching an inch closer so that Dex can lean up against his shoulder. “Dude, have you been looking me up on teacher rating websites again?”

Dex makes a non-committal noise. “You have 4.5 chili peppers - where’d the other half pepper go?”

“I mean, I don’t think I lost it. I just never had it.” He shrugs, uncaring.

The expression Dex wears turns consoling. “You're seven out of five peppers to me, Nurse.”

Nursey’s smile brightens, and he covers the hand at his hip with his own. “That’s pretty damn hot - you sure you can handle it?”

“I’ll get some saltines ready in case. The food of my people.”

“Maybe try yogurt instead.”

“Oh, you have a thing for yogurt? Guess I could work with that. I mean, it’s kinda untraditional, but I could try. For you.”

“Don’t try to shame me in my own bed, Will,” Nursey exclaims, and Dex leans forward to kiss the laugh from his mouth.

“Good thing it’s my bed, then, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for sharing.”

Nursey really does look like he’s going to nod off any minute, but before his eyes slip closed he gives Dex another thoughtful look, asking softly, “You know that time you came to visit a few years back? Around my birthday?”

It had been shortly after a major snowstorm hit the northeast; there were still piles of dirty gray slush on every corner and enough meltwater puddles to soak Dex’s socks for days, but it had been nice, to see Nursey again after half a year. The first few times they met up post-graduation, he thought it might have become awkward between them without proximity to keep them in contact, but they always picked up where they left off, all friendly chirping and stupid arguments, now colored with a few dashes of nostalgic reminiscing of the good old days. That day he had brought a potted snake plant with him as a gift, to add to the growing collection of houseplants on the sill of Nursey’s classroom.

“Yeah, we rode a sightseeing bus around Manhattan for no reason.” Dex had stayed the night, and Nursey had offered him the bed. He'd tried to refuse, but Nursey wasn't having it, and built a nest from a spare comforter in the living room before Dex could protest again. “You slept on the couch that night,” he recalls now. It had struck Dex as a strange miracle at the time, because enough time had passed since they last shared a bed for convenience and necessity that he had almost forgotten what a trial it always was. And as platonic as those moments had been, he hadn't been sure his heart could handle the fresh re-opening of the wound it would be to wake to the sight of Nursey asleep just a few inches away from him, too close to touch but never too far to fall for again and again.

“And you slept in my bed.” The hand nearest Dex tangles in the bottom hem of his t-shirt, a few of Nursey’s fingers slipping under to brush against Dex’s stomach. Dex tries not to shiver, waiting for Nursey to collect his thoughts into something more cohesive. “I woke up first, for once. You were still asleep, bundled to the max in all the blankets, except your leg. That was falling off the bed, dunno how - I fit on there just fine and we’re literally the same height.”

Nursey shakes his head, amused by a memory Dex wasn’t awake for, and takes a slight breath. “You were drooling on the pillow,” he says. “Left a wet spot the size of the pond next to your face.”

“Oh my god,” Dex groans, burying his face against Nursey’s arm.

“Nah, it was cute. I went to check on you, turn your head so you didn't drown in your own spit. You stuck your hand out of your cocoon when I did - I thought you were gonna slap me, but you grabbed my arm instead, and you wouldn't let go. I think it was some sort of anti-sibling protective instinct kicking in.

“I thought you would keep me trapped there until you woke up, and I sat down on the floor next to you because I- I guess I wanted that? I wanted to be the first thing you saw that morning.”

“Just like you used to be?” Dex asks, and Nursey nods mutely. They never talked about it, those hangover mornings where Dex jolted awake so he could untangle himself from Nursey and the sheets before anyone could catch him selling himself out with his moonstruck eyes. “But you weren't there when I woke. You were making breakfast,” he says, the memory coming back into focus, pleasantly overcast in the cool wintry gray of Nursey’s apartment that morning when Dex stepped out barefoot on the cold floorboards to see Nursey studying the spark and sizzle of oil in his frying pan.

“I guess that was always the dilemma. Do I want to be the one you wake up to, or do I want to be the one who makes you breakfast? I wanted to be both, but breakfast seemed safer.” Nursey’s smile, sheepish and uneven, reminds Dex of the years they lost. The years they- well, wasted isn’t the right word for it, because this is the road they took to get to each other, and even now, knowing what they could have had sooner, Dex doesn’t think it was the wrong path. He thinks sometimes they needed to grow up apart before they could grow old together.

“You could be both. You are both,” Dex says, looping his arm tighter around Nursey’s waist. “My problem was always whether I wanted to be the one to make you laugh or the one to catch you when you fall down the stairs.”

“It’s pretty cool when you do them at the same time,” Nursey says sleepily, and Dex leans in to give him one final kiss.

“Night, Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

Nursey drifts off first and Dex is left half-conscious, watching him in all the ways he couldn't when he was younger and less sober. Wanting him just as much as he did at nineteen. But they're here now, and Dex doesn't regret a minute that led them to this point. It feels like all that yearning was a debt to paid before he could know how it felt for his love to be requited.

Eleven years ago, on a night much like this one, Dex had held his breath and closed his eyes, hoping against hope that Nursey wouldn’t feel his pulse running wild as he fell asleep. Tonight he exhales, waiting for his heart rate to slow, and holds Nursey closer as sleep approaches.

Dex wakes bathed in sunlight. Nursey is still out, tucked into Dex’s side with one arm lying at a strange angle, but he stirs when Dex shifts to stretch his legs. For a second, his forehead scrunches and his dark lashes flutter twice before his eyes open.

“Good morning, starshine,” Dex says as Nursey turns onto his side to embrace him. His hair is a mess and he’s still blinking himself awake, but he looks rested and comfortable here in Dex’s bed. The way Dex hopes he’ll always feel when they’re together.

“Morning, Will,” Nursey responds warmly, and Dex remembers that all this was worth waiting for.

He leaves a kiss at Nursey’s jaw, his cheek, his crown. Then he props himself up with Nursey still spread across his chest, ready for the new day.

“C’mon, Nursey. Let’s go get breakfast.”

[pongpalace]

A Fucking Cliché

Written for Day 7 of @nurseydexweek: Future NurseyDex. Technically a sequel to Stupid Christmas Christmas Gift Giving Traditions but can be read on it's own, just know that Christmas is a "a myth invented by evil capitalists in order to make people enter unwillingly into a social contract in which they’ll always be miserable because it’s a cycle that never ends" but Nursey's okay with being the lifetime social contract of gift giving with Dex. Completely unbeta’d and I know nothing about English as a discipline. 

Also on ao3

Dex has had the box since before Christmas.

He knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Nursey, almost as soon as they got their shit together in their last year at Samwell and did something about the sexual tension that, according to Chowder, was threatening to choke the team. Moving in together after graduation into the little apartment in Boston had only cemented that. Nothing made Dex happier than coming home from work to find Nursey there on their couch smelling of coffee and full of stories about customers and coworkers or with a progress report on his dissertation (those were his favourite days; Nursey looked his best when his eyes were bright and his cheeks flushed as he told Dex about his most recent breakthrough.) A ring in a box on their fourth Christmas as a couple seemed like a natural progression of their relationship, even if College sweethearts was an overdone, clichéd trope.

Then Nursey comes home from work one day on a tangent about Christmas, capitalism, and the social construct of gift giving as part of lifetime contract that has Dex panicking until Nursey clarifies; “I’m okay with being in a social contract with you until I die,” and Dex is able to breath easy again, knowing that they're on the same page.

Dex means to give Nursey the ring that Christmas Eve but he gets distracted by Nursey waking him up with breakfast in bed on their first day of shared vacation and then they're travelling to spend the holidays with family and asking Nursey to be in a lifetime socially constructed contract with him gets pushed to the side in favour of eating their parents’ home cooking and catching up with relatives and he never finds the perfect moment he imagined when the ring first caught his eye so it stays wrapped in a sock at the bottom of Dex's suitcase the whole time they're with their families.

New Year's comes and they go to Time's Square after dinner with Nursey's moms and dad to watch the ball drop. Dex has the ring in his pocket, having put it there when he shakes it out what is his last pair of clean socks, forgetting it was there and almost losing it down the drain. He briefly considers getting down on one knee during the countdown but it's so crowded that he can't move from where he's plastered against Nursey's back, his chin resting on his shoulder to watch the screen. He spent the whole hour leading up to midnight worried that Nursey could feel the outline of the ring in Dex's pocket (he's wearing the skinny jeans Dex knew Nursey loves seeing him in) but even as Nursey grinds back against when Dex a little too innocently when someone pushed past them, he gives no indication of feeling anything.

They chant along with the crowd when the 60 second countdown flashes on the screen; Dex whispering the numbers between pressing his lips to the spot just under Nursey's ear that makes him laugh. They hit zero laughing loudly when Nursey's aggressive elbow hits nothing and only Dex’s arms around his waist kept him from falling on the icy ground.

Their first kiss of the New Year is interrupted when the people around them start clapping and cheering in a way that's different from the normal New Year's celebratory shouts. They pull apart to see a man on one knee putting a ring onto a woman who has happy tears streaming down her face as she nods vigorously.

The ring in Dex's pocket feels like it's on fire now and his cheeks heat up as he considered shouldering people out of the way so he has room to get to his knee.

“Man, what a cliché,” Nursey says, grinning as he rolls his eyes. He tucks his hand into Dex's mitten and pulls him away from the couple, now in a passionate embrace.  The ring looks really good on the woman's finger, Dex notes. Probably not as good as the silver band in his pocket but he's weirdly relieved he hadn't asked. If Nursey is chirping strangers about the unoriginality of a New York New Year’s Eve proposal, Dex know he'd never live the cliché down.

They go back to Boston and the ring finds a home in Dex's toolbox, one of the only places that he is 100% sure Nursey won't go into for fear of messing up whatever organizational system he thinks Dex has. Dex can't keep a toolbox organized to save his life, but he's not complaining about the rumour someone started at Samwell about him being intense about his tools if it keeps Nursey out of his hiding place.

Dex thinks about where the ring is every time Nursey sticks his cold toes under Dex’s thigh when they’re home from work together, but it’s never a good time to run and get the ring so he just stays there, rolling his eyes because it’s expected of him at this point, but enjoying that Nursey would rather be close to him than use the throw blanket they keep on the back of the couch. The closeness is important to Dex, even after all this time.

January turns into February quickly and March and April pass just as fast and the ring doesn’t move from the toolbox. In May, Nursey gets another step closer to becoming “Dr. Nurse,” and Dex couldn’t be prouder as he sits with their families to watch Nursey cross the stage and get the degree that’ll put a M and A behind his name. After talking the decision through like adults, they decide that staying in Boston is the best choice for them; UMass has a good PhD English program and the Vice-Chief Technology Officer position is open at the start-up Dex joined right out of Samwell. He happily takes it when it's offered now that he knows they’ll be staying in the area for a while yet and with the pay increase, he and Nursey are able to upgrade out of their small apartment and into one a more centrally located between their jobs. The second bedroom is supposed to be an office space for both of them, but Dex finds he doesn't mind when the bookshelves start to overflow with what Nursey needs for his research and the desk gets messy with notes in Nursey's handwriting because asking Nursey about his work is easy when it's all laid out like that. Dex has always been attracted to competence and Nursey never looks better than when he's confidently walking Dex through his thesis statement again because Dex has a hard time wrapping his head around some of the terms.

With his master’s finished, Nursey quits the coffee shop and teaches summer courses that’ll eventually go towards his PhD teaching requirements. Dex thought he’d miss Nursey’s stories about the people at the coffee shop, but it turns out that he’s just happy to just listen to Nursey’s stories, doesn’t matter if they’re about ridiculous coffeeshop coworkers or undergrad students who have a lot of say for a 100-level class.

It’s during one of those stories in July, that Dex realizes the cliché perfect moment he’s been waiting for to ask Nursey to marry him has always been there. Cliché or not, Dex wants to spend the rest of his life with Nursey and he thinks a socially constructed contract is the best way to show that so he waits for Nursey to finish his story before excusing himself to dig around the toolbox for the ring. It’s as shiny as ever even after banging around there during the move and when he comes back into the living room and gets down on one knee between in front of Nursey's spot on the couch, they’re both grinning.

“Finally,” Nursey says before Dex can even say anything.

“Shut up,” Dex grumbles. He takes Nursey’s left hand in his right, running his hand over his knuckles. Nursey’s smile widens and he squeezes Dex’s hand tight. It helps soothe the butterflies that have suddenly sprung up in Dex's stomach.

“Derek Malik Nurse,” Dex starts.

“Oh my god,” Nursey laughs at his full name. “You’re such a cliché.”

“I'm not!" Dex protests. "I didn't ask you at Christmas when I got the ring!” Dex is pretty sure that he isn't supposed to glare while proposing so he concentrates on smoothing out his expression. Nursey's face softens into one of Dex's favourite smiles and Dex's forehead smoothes out completely.

“You've had a ring since Christmas?” Nursey asks. He unfolds himself from the cross legged position that he'd been sitting in while he told Dex about his day, and sits with his feet on the ground so that his knees are on either side of Dex. He presses a kiss to Dex's forehead when Dex answers his question with a nod so Dex feels the huff of laughter.

“Such a fucking cliché,” Nursey repeats. Dex groans and drops his head onto Nursey's thigh.

“Nurse, I'm trying to ask you to marry me, can you just-” Dex breaks off when Nursey grabs his chin and makes him look up at him. Nursey's smiling but his eyes are serious.

“Yeah Will,” he says softly. “I told you: there's no one I'd rather be in a social contract with until I die.” He makes a happy sound when Dex surges forward to press their lips together.

Looking back, Dex’ll realize that he never actually said the words to ask Nursey to marry him, but like the fucking cliché that they are, words weren't needed to agree that they just needed each other to be happy.

[bluegrasshole]

where your reach meets the view

for @nurseydexweek hurt/comfort day. i didn’t think i’d get anything in at all but woke up early this morning despite my day off and this happened. technically it’s in the row upon row universe (from last year’s nurseydex week( but probably can be read without it. as always, title from the once’s song for memory: stuck in a town where your reach meets the view / where the dreams that you held are both fleeting and few / they crackle like fire on their way out the floo / well each day you work and weekends you’re due

Summer in inland Massachussetts is not the same as summer in seaside Maine. 

For one, it’s too hot. Without the breeze coming off the Atlantic and the constant rolling fog and the ocean minutes away for swimming, and of course without any air conditioning in the Haus, Liam is certain he’s going to melt away into so much sweat and salt and Derek’s going to be forced to wipe him up off the floor of their bedroom, if he hasn’t already melted too. Bitty makes fun of them every chance he gets, and Chowder, though more sympathetic, doesn’t hold back his eye-rolls when they Skype him, both shirtless and a foot away from each other so as not to transfer body heat, mostly-useless fans pointed at them from three different angles.

Their landlord hired Liam back in May to look after his other properties after seeing all the work he’d put into the Haus to keep it liveable, and it’s good work that Liam enjoys. It doesn’t pay as well as fishing -- no job for students ever could, and his uncle says 2017 is the best season they’ve seen in a decade -- but the landlord says if Liam wants to keep doing it during the year he’ll pay his rent then too. It’s a good deal, and Derek’s got a job teaching at some summer camp for kids on campus, so it’s alright, really. It works out. 

But as with the heat, another thing Liam didn’t count on was the loneliness.

After last year he and Derek didn’t want to spend another summer apart, and they’ve got the Haus to themselves all the time, except when Bitty visits with Jack or Shitty and Lardo drive up for the day. Once Liam’s younger sister Katie visits for a weekend but it’s hard to come down often and she’s doing her apprenticeship now and can’t get much time off. And she’s got friends, at home, and their oldest brother Jake and his wife Melissa and their daughter Ava are closer than Liam, so he can’t blame Katie for wanting to spend time with her five-year-old niece instead of her brother.

He doesn’t know anybody here, not really. Some of the other Samwell athletes are familiar faces, they’ve partied together before, but he wouldn’t consider them friends. And he’s got Derek with him, of course, and he loves him and they’re happy and he doesn’t regret a single decision that led him to staying at Samwell over the summer, but he misses -- his family, and the friends he grew up with who all stayed home for the summer and who post pictures of bonfires and beach days and hiking trips and big lobsters they’ve caught and beautiful sunrises on the boats he can’t experience, and he misses his team, and he misses being known, being recognized, being home. 

And he didn’t think he’d be nostalgic over waking up before the sunrise every morning and the smell of lobster burrowing itself so deep in his skin he can’t wash it all off when he gets home and the way his body hurts and his hands get infected from the lobster juices and the sting of the salt and twelve- or thirteen-hour days when the catch is good and fearless seagulls swooping down to steal his lunch and the rough, sometimes overwhelming loud voices of the swearing men on the wharves but. Sometimes he misses it so physically it’s an ache. 

Derek, of course, notices, though Liam doesn’t say anything. 

“We should do something,” he says one evening. They’re sitting in the basement on lawn chairs having some beer, and it smells a little gross down there but it’s the coolest place in the Haus so more often then not that’s where they find themselves after work. 

“Do what,” Liam says. He wishes he’d brought his punching bag from home when his dad had offered to unhook it and drive it down because he’s frustrated and wouldn’t mind something to hit. 

“Well, you know there’s a week in between camps,” Derek says. “That starts next Wednesday.”

“Alright.”

“Well, what if we took a road trip?”

“Derek,” Liam says, and sighs. “I have to work.” 

The condensation around his beer can drips down his fingers and he has no energy to wipe it off. In any case the cold feels good. 

“Just ask Joe. You’ve got nothing to lose by asking, and it’s not like Jason Street is going to fall apart for a few days without you.”

“Joe is a nice guy,” Liam says. And he’s salaried, not paid hourly. “But, like, what would we do, anyway? Gas isn’t cheap.”

“Liam, babe. There’s two of us to pay for it. And -- well, I thought maybe we could go see your parents, and you know they’ll fill the tank before we leave like they always do, and we can stop by and see Mel and Jake, and maybe Bitty and Jack, and Shitty and Lards, and then if we have time we could spend the last few days at my parents’, who will probably take us for groceries and get whatever else we need.”

“That’s a lot of time in a car.”

Derek sits forward in his chair across from Liam’s and sets his beer down to take Liam’s hands. Derek’s are also cold and damp from his can but holding on tightly. 

“So let’s do all the touristy stuff you never got to see because you’ve spent like, every single second of your life outside of school working or playing hockey. We’ll get out and take super cheesy pictures and all that."

Liam sees Derek lift his hands to his mouth and feels him kiss them, then Liam sighs again. He’s tired and sore from working all day and maybe on another day he would say no and stand firm but as it is he can’t say no to Derek. He can already hear the gulls and smell the seaweed and see his parents’ house with its decrepit swing set in the front yard and the fire pit out back. 

“Alright,” he says. Derek laughs and punches his fist in the air. “Let me make a phone call.”

[thedexdays]

Snapchat Scandals

Day One of NurseyDex week! I’m so happy to be participating in this week. Thank you to the lovely people for organizing this. :D

I also took inspiration from this post. I hope I did the prompt justice :)

Day One: Getting Together

---

If it hadn’t been for the new Snapchat update, Will might have never found out.

Tristan had said that he had to go to San Diego for work, some sort of client meeting, which was why it had to be on a weekend. Will had kissed him goodbye Friday morning and watched him drive off, leaning against the doorframe of his house, spatula in hand.

Later that night, Will was half watching one of the Die Hard movies and snap chatting Chris, a work colleague who he had played hockey against during college.

Did u c the new snap update? Chris sent, a pic of the Sharks game in the background.

Will sent back a pic of his feet up on his coffee table. Nope, what is it?

After a moment, Chris sent a screenshot of a map, Bitmoji characters scattered across the screen. His was circled. I c u bro.

Will laughed, taking a quick selfie. Stalker. (How did u do that tho??)

He sent back a demonstration video, with a chirp at the bottom. Damn an engineer couldn’t figure out the newest snap update. #imposter

Will sent back a pic of the laughing/crying emoji over his entire face. Whoops, I’ve been made.

He swiped across the screen like Chris showed him and found Chris’s bitmoji character. He was about to take a screenshot and send it back to him before he saw Tristan’s character. It wasn’t at the airport, or anywhere close to the airport. He zoomed in.

According to the Snapchat map, Tristan was at the Keg Restaurant downtown, which didn’t make any sense. He was supposed to be on a flight to San Diego right now. It left, Will checked his watch, two hours ago. He didn’t have any texts from Tristan saying that his flight was delayed. What was going on?

He closed Snapchat and reopened it, but Tristan’s little Bitmoji icon was still there.

Maybe the update was so new that there were bugs in it?

He narrowed his eyes and grunted, frustrated. No, no way it would be that wrong.

He took a screenshot and texted Chris.

Will: *sent a photo*

Will: any chance snap could get T’s location that wrong??

Chris: Uh where is he supposed to be?

Will: On his way to San Diego

Will watched the little bubble at the bottom of the screen with baited breath. It popped up and disappeared in quick succession a few times. Chris seemed to be having trouble coming up with something to say. Will’s heart sank; he could guess what his friend was thinking.

Chris: No. It wouldn't be that wrong.

Will sighed, slumping forward on the couch so that his elbows were resting on his thighs. His phone buzzed.

Chris: I’m getting in my car now. B at your house in 10. We’re going to find him.

Will’s eyebrows shot up.

Will: Wait C what?

Will: Is that necessary?

Will: What if it’s nothing??

If they went and tried to find him, then it wasn’t nothing. It meant that Chris didn’t think that it was nothing. Will stared at his phone. Did he think it was nothing?

“No. No this isn’t nothing,” he said to his empty house. He looked up and out his living room window at the dark summer night sky. “It’s not nothing…”

He ran a hand through his hair and took a steadying breath, getting up off the couch. He grabbed his keys and wallet before opening, and locking, his front door. He sat down on the stoop to wait for Chris.

He turned his phone over in his hand. He couldn’t come up with a logical excuse as to why Tristan would have lied about the flight, and probably the whole meeting, that didn’t make his heart hurt or spike his anger.

Has he done this before?

Tristan had gone away last month for a five day trip over a weekend as well, and he and Will didn’t see each other every day. They were both busy people. Will bit his lip. Could Tristan be cheating on him regularly?

Will gasped, shoving the traitorous thought away. No . There was no way Tristan would be cheating on him.

He wasn’t that type of guy. Tristan was sweet and kind and had an adorable dog who he adored. He called Will to wish him good night, and when Will had been pulling his hair out with anxiety during the engineering firm’s expansion, he had been a solid rock even though they had only been dating three months. He had met Will’s family and they all seemed to like him… Will paused. His grandmother, who was the best judge of character Will knew, hadn’t liked him though.

Will made a noise of frustration. He leaned his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands, breathing slowly. There was no need to panic yet. No fucking need.

Headbeems swept over him on the steps and he looked up. Chris waved from the front seat of his truck and Will stood.

“C,” Will started, getting into the passenger seat. “I don’t- I have no idea what to expect. But I’m- I’m starting to expect the worst.”

Chris shot him a sympathetic look, backing out of Will’s driveway. “Look, Will, Tristan’s at a fancy restaurant on a night where he was supposed to be flying out to San Diego.” He hesitated, before continuing. “It could be a misunderstanding, but you… might have to prepare yourself for something- something worse.”

Will clutched the armrests and looked at Chris. “Do you think…” He trailed off, he couldn’t say it. Chris seemed to understand what he was asking though.

He sighed and nodded. “It’ll take us like 20 minutes to get to the restaurant. Why don’t you put some music on, any station you want, and take a minute to breathe. Whatever happens tonight, Will, you’re not alone.”

20 minutes later, they pulled into the Keg’s parking lot. It was a Friday night, so it was pretty packed. By this point, Will was teetering on the edge of fear and anger. Fear, because he thought that he might love Tristan and he wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing him with someone else, and anger that Tristan had the audacity to do this to him, to lie to him and probably be cheating on him, and for the possibility of breaking his heart.

He wasn’t that angry kid that he used to be in high school or college, but he could feel his temper now. Tonight it would probably make an appearance.

Chris killed the engine. “What’s the Snapchat map say?”

Will checked quickly, stomach sinking at what he saw. “He’s still here.”

Chris nodded and opened his door. Will did as well. He felt sort of like he was walking through water as he followed Chris to the Keg’s door. He heard Chris talking to the harried hostess and then saw her give him a pitying look. His stomach rolled, and he looked away.

Chris touched his arm and inclined his head towards the restaurant. “Melissa said that she’ll give us a quick look. She thinks that she saw him, but Will if you don’t want to anymore we can go. Or we can just look and then go back and you can bring it up on Monday. I’ll support you no matter what. I promise.”

His eyes were hard, but his voice was soft, and Will was so so happy to have him here at that moment. He was so thankful for his friend.

He cleared his throat. “No. No, I need to know tonight. I just need to know…”

Chris nodded and then he turned to Melissa. “Lead the way.”

She led them through the bar area and the main dining space, and up the stairs to a second level with fewer tables and more privacy. Will felt the breath leave him; Tristan had taken him here before for one of their first dates. They’d sat by the window right over… His mind stopped thinking. They were sitting at the exact same table that Tristan had taken him to a few months ago. They were holding hands, gazing into each other's eyes. Tristan said something and the other man laughed.

Will saw red.

He felt Chris’s hand on his arm, and he thought that he might be saying something to him, but he didn’t listen. He marched right over to their table and growled out, “You asshole .”

Tristan and the other man looked up at him. Tristan paled, the other man looked confused.

“You absolute fucking asshole. What the fuck? How could you?” Will heard his voice rising, and knew that other tables were looking over at them, but he didn’t care.

Tristan held up a hand, seemingly unsure of what to do. “I- Will- How did you-”

Will cut him off. “You told me that you were going on a business trip to San Diego this weekend. This doesn’t look like any business trip I’ve ever seen,” he hissed, gesturing to the other man.

“I’m not business, I’m his boyfriend. Who the fuck are you?” the other man asked, starting to look angry.

“William Poindexter. I’ve been dating his asshole for five months, but this is officially the end of our relationship.”  He picked up Tristan’s wine glass, and the other man’s glass of water and then dumped both on their heads, slamming the glasses down with a bang.

Chris gasped behind him, Tristan spluttered out a few curse words and the other man stared at him in shock.

“Have a good fucking night,” Will growled, and then he turned on his heel and left.

Will saw Chris talking to Melissa, and a small part of him felt that he should apologize for the mess he made but the rest of him wanted to leave quickly. He was so fucking done with this shitfest. Tonight had been awful.

After he thundered down the stairs, Chris fell into step beside him.

Neither of them spoke before they got back to the car. Chris started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Will stared out the side window. He felt numb; all the fight had died in him. He felt empty, and like he needed to sleep for a month.

“Do you want to crash at my house tonight?” Chris asked quietly.

Will looked at him. His face was set in a tiny frown, face creased in concern.

“Yeah, please.” And then he started to cry.

---

Some days were harder than others.

Some days Will would throw himself into his work and curse Tristan all he wanted and swear he was better off without him. Those days he actually felt like he meant it. He’d go out with friends and laugh and actually forget about him for a while.

Some days, Will couldn’t do any of that. It was those days where he would watch sad movies and try not to cry and feel so so sad and hurt. He couldn’t understand how Tristan could do this to him. Or why he had done this to him. Those were the days where he would facetime his sisters or Mom and let them comfort him, because he needed it.

Slowly, he started having more good days than bad, and he slowly forgot more and more about Tristan and their relationship. It helped that work kept him busy, and that Chris was more than happy to hang out with him, and the fact that the gym by his house was open at 5:30am everyday and didn’t close until 10pm. He learned to distract himself, and keep himself busy, until suddenly he found that he didn’t need to anymore. He didn’t need the constant distraction. It still hurt, thinking about Tristan, but it was a dull ache, like someone poking at a scar, instead of the searing pain it once used to be.

He didn’t think the dull ache was going away anytime soon, but Will could live with it. He was learning to live with it.

Four months after the Incident, as Will had taken to calling it, he went out to a bar with Chris and a few work friends.

He was having a good day, a really good day. They had just finished a major project at work and his boss was over the moon, and Will thought, thinking about giving everyone bonuses.

And he had joined a community hockey league with Chris, and fallen in love with hockey all over again. It wasn’t as competitive as the NCAA team he had played for during college, but holy shit it felt good to have the ice under his feet again. And Chris was such a good goalie.

So yeah, he was having a really good day, and he sort of wanted to find someone to take home. He was ready to finally move on and close the door on Tristan and their relationship.

He was at a corner table with his bros, everyone laughing at a story that Andy was telling about a missing pool noodle and the hottest girl he had ever seen, but Will wasn’t really paying attention. He was half watching the Habs vs Pens game on the TV above the bar, absentmindedly sipping his beer, lost in thought.

He felt Chris nudge his foot and tilt his chin over to two girls at a tall table in the middle of the bar. They were looking at their table, and when Will met their eyes they blushed and looked away.

He turned back to Chris. “You want to go talk to them?”

He shrugged, smile on his lips. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no? I think that the girl farthest from us is actually wearing a Shark’s t-shirt?”

Will laughed, setting his mostly empty glass down and getting out of the booth. “Come on, C. Get up.”

The other guys closest to them laughed, throwing some suggestions their way, and Chris gave them the middle finger good naturedly, before he and Will crossed the floor to the bar where the girls were.

Sure enough, the girl who Chris thought was sporting Shark merch was, and he grinned at her, offering her his hand.

“Hey, my name’s Chris and you have a very good taste in hockey teams. Can I buy you a drink?”

She grinned, shaking his hand. “I knew it! Oh- um,” she blushed and Chris smiled wider.  “Hi, my name’s Caitlin.” She hopped off the stool she was sitting on and nodded towards the bar. “And I’d love a drink.”

Will tried not to smile too wide as the two of them walked off towards the bar.

He turned back to the other girl, who was watching Chris and Cailin with a smile. She was gorgeous, all warm brown skin, shiny dark hair, and bright hazel eyes.

“Hey, I’m Will.”

“Naimah. And I’m sorry, you’re very handsome but,” she held up her left hand and he saw a wedding band on her ring finger. “I’m already taken.”

He laughed. “Congratulations. And well, I prefer men myself anyways.”

Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly, and she grinned. “Well, then I’ll introduce you to my brother, Derek. He went to the bathroom but he should be- oh, there he is. Derek!”

She waved to someone behind Will and he turned.

“Holy shit.”

He couldn’t believe it.

Derek, Will finally had a name for him, lost his smile as he stopped at their table. They stared at each other for a minute. Will was totally speechless.

“William Poindexter. This is a surprise,” Derek said, recovering first.

“I- Well-” Will spluttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Derek, what’s going on?” Naimah asked, eyes flicking between the two men.

“Give us a second Naimah, will you?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of Will.

She didn’t move until Derek looked at her and nodded. She pursed her lips together and got up, heading over to the bar.

“Umm,” Derek hesitated. “I guess- do you want to sit? We probably owe each other a discussion…” He trailed off.

Will nodded, pulling out a chair. He was still shocked, of all the bars in New York they really had to end up at the same one.

Derek laughed quietly, “Yeah, what are the odds right?”

“Oh, did I say that out loud?” Will asked, flushing.

“Yeah bro, you did.”

Neither said anything after that, and an awkward silence formed between them.

“I um- I’m sorry I dumped that drink on you,” Will blurted, ears turning red.

He silently groaned. Jesus Will, pull yourself together!

“Oh, no hard feelings. It um- Well, I understand why you did it.”

“Can I ask,” Will cleared his throat. This was an awkward question, but he wanted to know. “Ah, how long were you and him…” he trailed off.

Derek looked at him silently.

He started to panic. “I mean, you don’t ha-”

Derek interrupted him. “That was our third date. So it was still really new. I uh, didn’t stay long enough to let him explain anything though. I was too angry.”

Will nodded after a minute, he understood that feeling perfectly. His anger was gone now though, as well as most of the sadness. Will was ready to move on and this was good closure.

His eyes drifted down and he spotted the crest of a hockey association on Derek’s t-shirt. He squinted. Yeah, Will was pretty sure that he had played against that team recently.

“You play hockey?” Will heard himself asking.

Derek looked surprised, and glanced down at his t-shirt. “Oh, yeah I play defense for the Venom.”

Will smiled hesitantly. He had no idea what he was doing. “We played you guys like, three weeks ago? I play for Atomic.”

Derek’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Holy shit! I remember you guys! Your goalie was so fucking good bro. You sure he’s never gone pro?”

Will laughed, nodding towards the bar where Chris and Caitlin were talking. “Nope, he works with me. He played NCAA in college though, for Samwell. They won the championship under his captaincy in 2018.”

“I remember you too. D-man. Number 24. You blocked all of my fucking shots that night. And let me guess, you had to have played NCAA at some point too, right?”

“And you blocked all of mine! But yeah, I played for Boston.”

Derek laughed, “Shit, BU wow .”

Will rolled his eyes, grin firmly in place. “Who’d you play for, hmm?”

“Ah, well I played for Michigan.”

Will’s eyes widened, “No way! Your team was full of goons!”

“Well yeah, and enough actual skilled players, like yours truly, to win in 2016 and 2017. How many championships has BU won again?”

“Jesus. Chirp chirp chirp.”

They grinned at each other.

Will sat back. Derek was actually pretty great.

“Why don’t we start over,” Derek said, clearing his throat. He held out his hand. “Derek Nurse, nice to meet you.”

Will smiled, shaking his hand. “William Poindexter. Can I, um, can I buy you a drink?”

Derek smiled. “Yeah, I’d love one.”

---

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