⤿ DEAN DI LAURENTIS seriously loved his best friend, Beau Maxwell, but when he reunited with his best friend's sister? Well, he was seriously in love.
!! wc: 2.8k. fluff. fem!reader. maxwell!reader. brother's best friend trope. tucker cameos of course. for reference beau and dean have been besties since childhood. flirting. innuendo. nothing crazy. protective beau bc i'm a sucker for that. taglist open. ENJOY. COMMENTS ENCOURAGED.
By the time you walked into the fraternity house, it already felt like the night had decided what it wanted to be.
Music was spilling through every open window in waves that made the floorboards vibrate under your heels, laughter curling up the staircase and out into the night air like it didn’t belong to any one room. Someone had turned the living room into something halfway between a party and a performance, colored lights thrown lazily across the walls, cups stacked on every available surface like they were part of the architecture.
And at the center of it all, unsurprisingly, was Beau Maxwell.
Your brother had that kind of presence that didn’t just fill a room but rearranged it around him. Star quarterback, frat legend, and somehow still managing to look like he’d been born in the middle of a crowd and never left it.
He spotted you the second you stepped inside, his grin breaking wide and immediate as he pushed through a cluster of people to get to you.
“There she is,” he cheered, like the entire night had been waiting for your arrival specifically.
You barely got a chance to respond before he pulled you into a one-armed hug that lifted you onto your toes.
“Asshole!” you protested through a laugh, adjusting your jacket as he let go, finally.
He looked you over like he was assessing a critical player coming onto the field. “You look like you're ready to fucking party.”
“I always look ready,” you said.
“That’s true,” he admitted easily, then gestured broadly at the house. “Welcome to Sig Tau.”
“You live like this voluntarily,” you pointed out with a crinkled nose and squinted eyes.
He smiled like that was a compliment. “It builds character.”
It did not, in fact, look like it built character. It looked like it built diseases and questionable decisions.
You followed him deeper inside, weaving through bodies and laughter, already feeling the familiar ease that came with being around Beau in his element. You had grown up orbiting this version of him, the version that belonged to crowds and energy and people who shouted his name like it meant something beyond just a game.
Which was exactly why you hadn’t expected the shift.
It happened when Beau paused mid-conversation with someone at the counter, glanced over your shoulder, and then did a double-take so sharp it almost looked painful.
“Oh,” he cursed under his breath, but recovered with a grin nonetheless.
You turned slightly. “What?”
Beau didn’t answer right away. His expression had gone from relaxed to something faintly alarmed, like he’d just spotted a problem he had actively avoided thinking about for a long time.
You turned fully this time.
Some blonde who was unfairly attractive was standing a few feet away, still in that effortless post-practice presence he always carried even outside of hockey. His hair slightly mussed, shirt open at the collar, eyes already on you like the rest of the party had been filtered out of existence the moment he arrived.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
Then Dean tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to place something that had just clicked into focus.
And then he laughed once, low and disbelieving.
“No,” he said, pointing lightly between you and Beau. “That’s her?”
Beau’s hand came up in a slow, resigned motion. “Yeah.”
Dean blinked.
Then looked at you again, properly this time, like he was re-evaluating every interaction you had ever had.
“Little Maxwell, holy shit,” he said with a grin that was both fond and something a little more.
You raised a brow, did you know this guy? Had Beau just talked about you too much?
Something in his expression shifted immediately. Interest sharpened into recognition, then into something distinctly more entertained.
“Oh,” he mumbled again, slower this time, like the realization had weight. “Okay, I get it now.”
Beau sighed. “Don’t start.”
Dean ignored him completely, still looking at you like the conversation had already moved somewhere the rest of the room couldn’t follow.
“Listen, I get it. It's been years since we've seen each other cause you're always off doing some random shit with family in the summer, and I'm always rising and grinding during the season. But come on you don't even recognize these dimples?” He beamed at you as punctuation to his statement. His dimples pressing into his cheeks as his eyes closed in pure exaggeration.
You glanced at Beau with wide eyes, then back to the blonde.
"Dean?" Your jaw was practically on the floor at this point. This was not the little kid with a perfect side part that you grew up hanging out with. There was no way.
Beau looked vaguely like he was reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this moment.
Dean laughed again, shaking his head slightly as if he genuinely couldn’t decide whether this was impressive or insane.
But before he could answer, Beau stepped in half a pace, subtly but firmly placing himself between the two of you like a defensive line that had just been activated.
“Nope,” Beau put an arm between you and his best friend with a firm shake of his head.
Dean lifted a hand innocently. “What?”
“You’re not doing whatever you’re about to do,” Beau continued.
“I’m literally just standing here.”
“That’s how it starts,” Beau said flatly.
You laughed under your breath at that, and Dean’s eyes flicked briefly to you like that sound had been more important than anything else in the room.
Which Beau noticed too, because of course he did.
His jaw tightened slightly. “Tucker,” he called without looking away from Dean.
From somewhere behind the crowd, Tucker appeared like he had been summoned specifically for this purpose. He took one look at the situation, then at Beau, then at Dean, and immediately groaned.
“Oh, come on, bro.”
“Watch him,” Beau said.
Tucker pointed at himself. “Why am I always the emotional support in this house? This feels like it's just a fucking punishment at this point.”
“Because you’re reliable,” Beau said.
“That's really not a compliment in this context.”
Dean exhaled, amused, watching the entire exchange like it was a show he had not paid for but intended to enjoy anyway.
“I feel like I’m being managed,” he said.
“You are being managed,” Beau corrected immediately.
You leaned slightly toward Beau, lowering your voice just enough to be conspiratorial. “This is ridiculous, he's your best friend, why are you being such a weirdo about this?”
Beau didn’t look at you. “This is necessary, you don't know the newer Dean.”
Dean’s gaze shifted back to you again, softer at the edges now that Beau wasn’t fully blocking his view. “So,” he drawled, like he was testing the waters carefully despite the chaos around him, “you here all night, or does your brother have a curfew for you too?”
You opened your mouth to answer.
Beau answered first. “She has a curfew.”
“I do not,” you said at the same time. An offended, but exaggerated gasp escaped your lips as you glared at your brother.
Beau pointed at you like that proved his point anyway. “See?”
Dean smiled, clearly entertained now in a way that made him even more infuriating to the person trying to contain him.
“Good to know,” he hummed with a wink that was shot in your direction.
And just like that, Tucker stepped in closer, casually inserting himself between you and Dean with the exhausted resignation of someone who had accepted his role in life.
“Alright,” Tucker said, clapping Dean on the shoulder. “Let’s go get you a drink... far away from here. Preferably outside. Or in another state, fuck it, let's just go all the way to Texas for a drink.”
Dean didn’t move immediately.
His eyes stayed on you a moment longer than necessary, like he was memorizing the fact that you existed in the same room as him now in a way that couldn’t be undone.
Then, slowly, he nodded once, “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”
But as Tucker started steering him away, Dean looked back over his shoulder one last time.
And mouthed, very clearly:
Maxwell.
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling anyway. Behind you, Beau let out a long, suffering sigh.
Your brother didn’t stop watching you even after Dean had been physically removed from your immediate vicinity.
Which, considering the fact that Tucker had successfully dragged him toward the bar like he was escorting a dangerous but extremely social animal, was saying something about how seriously your brother was taking this entire situation.
You leaned against the kitchen counter with a drink you hadn’t actually decided to drink yet, watching the party unfold. People spilling through doorways, laughter rising and falling in uneven waves, someone already attempting a very confident but very incorrect rendition of a song you vaguely recognized.
Beau stayed beside you like a shadow, except he unfortunately had opinions.
“I don’t like the way he looked at you,” he said finally.
You didn’t even glance at him. “He looked at me like we were friends who haven't seen each other in years... Oh wait- maybe that's because we are.”
Beau made a noise of disagreement. “No, he looked at you like he was calculating something.”
“That’s called having eyes and a brain, Beau.”
“That’s called being Dean Heyward-Di Laurentis.”
You finally turned your head slightly toward him. “You’re being so dramatic. At this point you should be on broadway.”
“I’m being observant,” Beau corrected immediately, though his second glance in your direction and the way his lips pursed made it seem like he may have just briefly considered asking if you were serious.
From across the room, you caught sight of Dean again near the drinks. Tucker was still beside him, one hand planted firmly on Dean’s shoulder like a human barricade, while Dean leaned casually against the counter, looking entirely unbothered by the fact that he was being monitored like a public safety concern.
Except his eyes flicked up, and immediately landed on you like they’d been waiting for you to look back.
You did, of course you did... how could you not.
Dean’s mouth curved slightly, just enough to be noticed, not enough to be subtle. He lifted his drink in a small, lazy gesture that somehow felt like it belonged only to you and no one else in the room.
Beau saw it too.
“Absolutely not,” he said flatly.
You blinked. “What now?”
“He just-” Beau gestured vaguely across the room. “He just acknowledged you like that in my house.”
You looked back at him, not even bothering with arguing the my in that statement, instead you figured a better use of your time would be to get another opinion... Y'know, make sure you weren't misreading the hints that Dean was putting down. “Like what?”
Beau stared at you like you were intentionally missing the point. “Like you’re a person he’s interested in.”
You took a slow sip of your drink finally, like you needed something to occupy your hands before you said something stupid. “Maybe I am a person he’s interested in.”
That got Beau to turn fully toward you with a look of shock and appallment.
“No,” he shut down immediately.
You raised a brow. “No?”
“He’s my best friend,” Beau said, like that explained everything.
“And I’m your sister,” you replied.
“That’s exactly why this is a problem.”
You laughed under your breath. “So your logic is I’m allowed to exist as a concept, but not as a dating option?”
Beau exhaled hard, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re not a dating option.”
“That’s not how people work,” you said, your arms crossed as your eyebrows furrowed. You had been able to humor this whole protective brother ordeal for a little bit, but now you were starting to wonder if you could push this as far as you wanted it to go.
Across the room, Dean said something that made Tucker immediately react like he’d just been personally offended by the universe. Tucker grabbed Dean’s arm again, physically turning him slightly away from your direction.
You watched it happen.
Then you looked back at Beau. “Is Tucker always like this?”
“Yes,” Beau said without hesitation. “And I’m paying him in friendship points.”
“That feels like hazing.”
“It’s fraternally sanctioned, don't mention it out loud though....”
You hummed, glancing back again just in time to see Dean make eye contact with you over Tucker’s shoulder.
He lifted his brows slightly, like he was asking a question without saying it. You tilted your head, and he seemed to read that like a book.
Beau noticed immediately... again.
“No,” he said again, his rink resting on the counter now as he leaned towards you with crossed arms.
You didn’t respond.
Because Dean had just shifted, subtly shaking Tucker’s hand off his arm with a pat that looked friendly but firm, and started walking.. directly toward you.
Beau straightened instantly.
“Oh my god,” he muttered.
“Relax,” you teased, even though your attention was already fully on Dean now.
Beau stepped slightly in front of you again out of pure instinct, like blocking access was muscle memory at this point. “I am relaxed. I am very relaxed. I am so relaxed I am about to throw up.”
“Beau.”
“Do not ‘Beau’ me right now.”
Dean arrived anyway, and he stopped just short of your brother -- his bestfriend -- smiling like this was exactly the reaction he had been expecting, and maybe even hoping for.
“Tucker’s not very good at his job,” Dean said casually.
“I heard that,” Tucker called from across the room.
Dean didn’t look away from Beau. “Yeah, I wanted him to hear it.”
Beau pointed at him immediately. “Stay on your side of the room.”
Dean glanced at the finger like it was mildly amusing. “Which side is that?”
Beau’s expression tightened. “The side that is not my sister.”
That made Dean finally look past him, his eyes landing on you.
And when he did, his voice dropped slightly, the teasing still there but softened around the edges like he was aware of exactly what he was doing.
“I was just coming to say hi,” he said all too casually with a cheeky shrug.
Beau didn’t move. “You said hi from across the room.”
“I feel like it’s better up close.”
“Why.”
Dean paused, then shrugged lightly. “Higher accuracy.”
You let out a quiet laugh before you could stop yourself. That, of course, got Dean’s attention again immediately.
“Okay,” Beau interrupted, stepping slightly closer to Dean now like he was ready to physically negotiate boundaries if necessary. “You’re done.”
Dean looked at him, eyebrow quirked, and head resting to the side just slightly. “With what.”
“With whatever this is.”
“This is a conversation,” Dean informed him, like he was struggling to find the simple word.
“This is a threat,” Beau corrected.
From somewhere behind Dean, Tucker reappeared, clearly having abandoned all hope of containing anything at this point.
“I tried,” Tucker said, holding up his hands. “I genuinely tried.”
Dean finally exhaled, looking between Beau and Tucker like he was evaluating the situation in full now.
Then he leaned slightly closer to Beau, voice dropping just enough to turn private.
“I’m not doing anything,” he said. “I’m talking to her.”
Beau didn’t budge. “That’s how it starts.”
Dean’s mouth twitched. “You’ve said that already.”
“I will keep saying it,” Beau replied.
There was a beat, then Dean looked past him again, directly at you.
And this time, there was no teasing in it at all, just something unapologetically interested.
“I’ll be over there,” he muttered, nodding slightly toward the quieter side of the house. “If your brother decides to stop guarding you like you’re a national treasure.”
Beau immediately opened his mouth, but you made sure to speak first.
“I’ll find you,” you nodded with a small smile.
Beau froze, and poor Tucker made a sound like he was witnessing the end of something inevitable.
Dean, however, smiled and for once it wasn't the usual smug one.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I was hoping you would.”
And then he walked away again, slow enough not to look like retreat, confident enough not to look like permission, while Beau slowly turned his head toward you like he was trying to process the fact that you had just said that out loud.
“No,” Beau said again, but weaker this time.
You took another sip of your drink.
“Yes,” you corrected.
Behind you, Tucker sighed deeply and walked away in surrender.
“if you love this character then you must make him happy in your fics, right?” wrong. the horror. suffering. internal hemorrhage. hospital. immediately
