Idiot (derek nurse, spoken word, 2016) by Euphorion
mature
no archive warnings apply
23 050 words
completed
derek nurse/william poindexter
Dex sat up fully, crossing his feet at the ankles and giving him a wry look. “You wanna come pretend to be my boyfriend, Nurse?”
There were a lot of reasons Nursey was glad he wasn’t white. Subtle blushing ranked really high up there. “I, uh,” he started.
Dex shook his head at him. “It’s okay, I was kidding. I appreciate the suggestion but I know you weren’t offering—“
“I would,” Nursey heard himself saying. Which he’d always thought was a dumb literary convention, but here he was, words coming out of his mouth without his useless fucking brain’s influence at all. “If you actually want me to, I would.”
Ok I had a thought. I don't know how this works cause locker rooms and all that but WHAT IF the reason dex is so against sharing the room is because he's trans and he really wanted his own space where he didn't have to hide? (also cause he's into nursey but that's a whole 'nother thing) Just thought I'd share my little trans!dex headcanon!
Ooh a Dex headcanon! (I’m such a Zimbits persons that this is a rarity.)
Fic below the cut.
This would be a really interesting dynamic. Nursey expecting Dex to abandon the shared room, but Dex has a really strong reason for wanting to stay. I feel the jump-to scenario is Nursey accidentally discovering Dex is trans in a shared bathroom style incident. But let’s give Dex more agency in this narrative, please…
He’s on edge, and nervous, and it’s not all to do with the crush either (really, that level of nervousness is about the same from before they were sharing a room). There’s just so many opportunities now for something to go wrong. For Dex to leave a binder out, or for Nursey to walk in while he’s changing. He talks in his sleep sometimes too, what if something comes out that way?
So he’s biting the bullet. He’s telling Nursey. He’s not ever really told anyone on the team, except almost Shitty that one time. He’s sitting on his desk chair in their room, already feeling clammy as he waits for Nursey to come back from his last class of the day (knowing his timetable has been one side-effect of room-sharing).
Dex tried to do some of his coding assignment to pass the time, but instead of distracting him from thinking about the encroaching conversation, it was the thought of the conversation that was distracting him from his coding. After too many bugs and error messages, he gave up. Now he’s just sitting. Thinking.
Nursey comes in with his usual last-class-on-a-Friday celebratory latte. He always takes so long to drink them that he’s only half finished by the time he gets to the Haus, and the one time he had accidentally spilled it over Dex, Dex was thankful to realise it was almost stone cold by that time too.
“Yo, Dex. Sup?” Nursey kicks his shoes off vaguely in the direction of the bed. Dex will go move them out of the way later so Nursey doesn’t trip over them in the morning.
“Not much,” Dex tries to say, but it comes out a little cracked, and unclear.
“Sore throat or something?” Nursey frowns over at him. “I think I’ve got some, like, throat lozenge things somewhere.”
Dex clears his throat. “I’m fine.”
Nursey narrows his eyes at him, clearly unconvinced. Dex sighs out and stands up.
“Just wanted to…”
He can’t do it. Why did past him think telling Nursey was a good idea. It’s clearly not. He’s the most anxious he’s been in ages. Nursey normally let’s him get off with little white-lies, like post game when he’s clearly not fine but saying he is. This time though, Nursey is not letting it go.
Dex isn’t looking but he can feel Nursey staring at him still.
It’s in this pause that Dex realises his problem. He’s been focussed so much on the when of telling Nursey, that he hadn’t put any thought into the how. Nursey would know what to say. Dex wishes very intensely for a moment that he was the poet, so when he opens his mouth something eloquent would come out.
“I wanted to say, that I–I’m not–I don’t–I thought I should–”
“Dex?” Nursey stops him with a word and a look of concern. “You sure you’re not getting sick, or something?”
“Very sure. Yes.”
“I think you should sit down,” Nursey says, worried, walking over to Dex to actually steer him over to Nursey’s bed, where Nursey sits him down, and puts the back of his hand against his forehead.
Dex goes cross-eyed trying to look at it. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Uh…” Nursey begins, “Kinda? My moms used to do it when I was sick. I’ve seen Bitty do it too.”
Nursey’s moms. Dex forgot all about that. He relaxes infinitesimally and thinks about what it means for Nursey to have grown up artsy, dark skinned and mixed race with two mothers in America. It’s enough to loosen his jaw, and while Nursey is still close to him, hand still on his skin, say, “The name on my birth certificate is Wilhelmina Josephine Pointdexter.”
Nursey doesn’t take his hand away, but from where it’s resting against his forehead, Dex can clearly feel it stiffening, and pressing in that little bit harder.
In this pause, Dex listens back to what he just said, and feels almost okay about having it out there. He’d be able to relax, except that now he needs to hear Nursey say something, react in some way.
“I think,” Nursey clears his throat and withdraws his hand. His eyes follow it down to his lap, and Dex stares at it, thinking absurdly and possibly driven by the combination of panic and relief he now feels, that that could have been the last time Nursey ever touches him.
“Alright,” Nursey says, seemingly in response to something he’s been thinking, as it’s half-muttered and half-whispered.
Nursey looks up at Dex, and Dex tries to read whatever that conversation was on his face. He can’t see anything different. Nursey looks like Nursey, like he always does; faint bags under his eyes because he’s always up too late reading, and eyes that project calm and intelligence.
“William,” Nursey says, and Dex shudders at the careful and deliberate way Nursey pronounces it. “You’re right. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“What?”
Nursey lifts his hand up between them and flops it about a little bit. “I can’t tell whether you’re sick.”
He presses it against Dex’s forehead again, and Dex closes his eyes, relived, and trying not to show it overtly. Nursey is touching him, and looking at him like he has every day before this.
“I’m not sick,” Dex tells Nurse, grabbing Nursey’s wrist to move it away.
“You wanna watch reality shows anyway?” Nursey asks. “I think there’s a fresh pie downstairs.”
Dex nods, still trying to categorize how he’s feeling after telling Nursey. He smiles small but grateful at Nursey in the meantime, as Nursey walks over to the door.
Dex follows a step behind, but halts still inside the room. “Actually, could you give me a minute?”
Nursey turns to him, nodding easily. “Yeah, sure. And hey.” There’s no hesitation. He pulls Dex into a hug. It’s maybe only the fourth time they’ve done that outside of a celly. “Thanks, man. For telling me.”
Dex hugs Nursey back, trying not to squeeze the life out of him with all his gratitude.
“See you in a bit.” Nursey clasps him on the shoulder, then leaves and shuts the door behind him, leaving Dex in the room that will be theirs now until they graduate.
