If ur still taking the prompts for dexrarepairweek what about "you don't have a family do you?" Or "is that my hoodie" w polydmen
I can sense you want humor. I will do my best.
Dex falls out of Ransom’s bed early monday morning. Well, fall is a bit of an exaggeration. Really, he kisses Ransom before slinking down the bunk bed. Nursey groans about him being too loud, but he doesn’t bother to apologize. Dex rifles through his (what a concept) drawer, grabbing clean underwear and a shirt. Holster may or may not throw a pillow at his head as the door shrieks open. He’d have to remember to oil it later.
He showers, taking a few extra minutes to just soak up the water. As much as he loves extensive sleepovers, Dex enjoys his quiet time. He’d have to go back to his dorm eventually. Swap out some clothing, make sure his suitemates know he’s still alive (as if they care).
For the time being, he’s content to putter around the Haus. He decides to start breakfast because practice is in an hour and he doesn’t feel like doing homework. Dex feels like making eggs. A decision he instantly regrets when he remembers that Ransom likes his scrambled, Holster eats his over-easy, and Nursey only eats eggs benedict. He sighs, at least he can make scrambled eggs however he wants.
Holster stumbles down first, accepting a fresh cup of coffee. “Thanks.” He kisses Dex on the cheek.
Ransom comes down not long after. He’s more dressed than Dex or Holster, but he’s yawning more than he’s moving to sit down.
“Is it Friday yet,” Ransom groans.
“Ugh, I wish,” Holster says. “I still have to study for my midterm on Thursday.”
“Why? That’s days from now.”
“Not all of us are geniuses Ju—“ Holster narrows his gaze. “I see what you did there.”
Ransom chuckles. “I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Uh huh.” Holster crosses his arms.
“Holtz, set the table,” Dex tries to intervene. He’s done with both of their eggs. And the sooner they can all be out the door, the better.
Holster complies. Only when he gets to setting Ransom’s silverware, he licks the fork a few times before sticking it in Ransom’s food.
“Dude,” Ransom snaps. “Not cool.”
“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” Holster mocks.
Nursey takes this opportunity to trudge into the kitchen. Dex holds out a plate for him.
“Thanks, babe.” Nursey grins.
Dex opens his mouth to reply when—
“Don’t you dare,” Holster shouts.
“I’m not doing anything,” Ransom protests.
“You’re eyeing my juice,” Holster says accusingly. “If you put a fucking loogie in there I swear t—”
“Ew, gross,” Nursey interrupts. “The fuck would you do that for?”
“He stuck a spit fork in my food,” Ransom says.
“He was chirping me, pre-coffee!” Holster
Nursey quirks a brow. “So?”
Dex, Nursey, and Holster glance at each other.
“You have a sister right?” Holster asks.
Nursey frowns. “Yeah, so?”
“Didn’t you ever— y’know, fight about stupid shit?” Ransom says.
Dex thinks they’re onto something. So he decides to ask. “Nurse, do you know how to give an Indian rug burn?”
“First, that sounds like a dumb, mildly offensive suburban white thing.” Nursey then holds up two fingers. “Second, clearly not.”
“So were you not raised together?” Holster asks at the same time that Ransom says “this explains why we had to teach you seat-backs.”
“Guys,” Dex yells. “Focus. Breakfast first. Practice and chirping Nursey can come later.”
Ransom and Holster start their own conversation about the worst things their sisters have ever done to them. Meanwhile Nursey and Dex eat contently. When they head out to practice (dressed and bags in tow) Nursey reaches for Dex hand. Dex grins, threading their fingers together.
“Hey, thanks,” Nursey mumbles. “Claire’s older y’know? And she’s chill, but—it was different when we were younger.”
“Yea, I get it,” Dex admits. “I had a lot of cousins running around. It made up for not always having Dylan around. Don’t worry.”
