Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He's halfway through solving question 4b for the third time (and seriously, how is the answer always different?) when his door slams open. And, like, it's loud, and disruptive, and more than a little startling, but the thing that really has Derek concerned is the way that Dex sweeps into his room like a force of nature.

Cheeks flushed pink, hair ruffled, and his shirt buttons off by one, he looks a mess... but then Derek gets to his eyes and he knows. This is not the time for chirping, because Dex's eyes are those of a man about to kill.

Of course, it's not really the eyes that he's learned to be wary of. No, it's Dex's tongue - sharp and bitter and the only thing that's really been able to hurt him since the time he was stood up for the 5th and 6th grade Valentine's dance (and he'd would be lying if he said it didn't still sting... fucking Kerry).

"What part of friending my mom on Facebook seemed like a good idea?"

Dex's words come out of his mouth like they're propelled. Like they're on the verge of reaching the speed of fucking light. And. Like. He hears Dex's words. But something about them takes a moment to connect. And, like, Math is hard. It does things to Derek's brain, so it's not his damn fault that Dex's words don't sink in for a second. It's a minute (at most) before they do, and even then, he's hit with an overwhelming feeling of 'so the fuck what?'

"Um. Dex, I'm pretty sure that your mom friended me our freshman year. Like, I'm also almost 100% sure that she friended everyone on the team. She and Bitty swap recipes all the time, she's liked every single one of Lardo's pictures, and she's always poking me... so, like, your mom is super cool, and if you don't want me to be Facebook friends with her, I'm not the one you should be taking this up with."

"First of all, my mom pokes you? What the fuck?" The pink from Dex's cheeks has started fading, leaving behind a chalky, almost greenish tinge. "Bro, I don't care that you and my mom are like, Facebook official or whatever. I care about the fact that your fucking Facebook just outed me to her."

What started off as a regular Thursday night of Dex being unchill and Derek talking him down from his murderous ledge suddenly landed into a strange new territory. A territory commonly to be known as What The Fuck.

"What the fuck?" Okay, that wasn't what Derek had intended to come out of his mouth, and from the way that Dex's fists are clenching, it's clear that it wasn't a solid choice. So, being the poetic being that Derek's always strived to be, he tries again. "No, seriously, what the fuck? What do you mean, I outed you? I would never, ever do that. And like... it's not like I'd talk about you on Facebook to begin with, so..."

There's a moment of silence where Dex's mouth does a strange little worm-like dance, wavering between anger and actual, visible disappointment. It's only when that disappointment gets completely choked out that Derek realizes that he might have fucked up more than usual.

"I don't expect you to talk about me, Nurse. Like, we do an excellent job at not talking about this - this fucking thing that we've been doing, and I get it. I understand why you wouldn't want to, but... dude, you need to update your privacy settings, because somehow - somehow - there are like, a hundred different pictures that you've been tagged in, and apparently I'm in more than a few.

"Apparently, I'm in enough of them where my mom felt the need to ask about my boyfriend. She wants to know when I'm bringing you home. Better yet, she wanted to know if I wanted to come out to the family myself, or if she wanted me to break the news to them first. Like, what the FUCK is my life anymore?

"Of course, I can't tell her that I don't have a boyfriend, because she's completely caught up in how accepting and progressive she is, like she deserves a gold fucking star for still wanting to be my mom... and I can't fucking tell her that I don't even know what to call what I am, or that I haven't been on a single goddamn date in my entire life... like, how do you break it to your mom that you're not really gay, and that you're not really straight - that you're just 'you' and that whatever it is ‘you’ are isn't the kind of thing that dates?"

He's crying now. Dex is crying silent, angry tears, and Derek just wants to hold him. He wants to help, but... that's not really been something they've done. It's not who they are to each other.

They fight, and they skate, and sometimes they hook up. They're friends in the loosest sense of the word, and it's only in moments like this, when Dex is adrift and separate... it's times like this that make Derek angry, because they're the moments that make him want more.

It's that anger, that simmering, envious resentment that's built up since the first time he considered putting his lips to Dex's throat, that comes crashing out.

"Did you ever consider that maybe you outed yourself, Dex? Like, maybe it has less to do with whether or not me and your mom are Facebook friends, and more to do with the way you moon over anyone pays you the slightest bit of attention. Seriously, I can't even - did it ever occur to you that your mom figured it out on her own?

“Shit, she probably figured it out long before you got down on your knees for me."

Again, it's the wrong thing to say, but the words won't stop. It's like every cruel thought that's twisted inside of Derek's heart has taken the opportunity to raise it's voice, and he's helpless to stop it.

“God, are you even sure it's my Facebook page that tipped her off? I mean, if you're down to fuck someone you can't stand, I'd love to know how you treat your friends.”

Dex’s eyes go wide at that - they go hurt - and then they go soft.

They are so, so soft until the second they go cold.

And that? That's the last thing Derek registers before Dex runs out, door slamming behind him.

Chapter Text

So, the thing about fighting with Dex is that it's kind of their default? Like, it's messy and it's stressful, and usually it's more than a little bit fun, but it's kind of their status quo. At least, it was their status quo. The past few months had been better. They had been better... but that's not the point. The point is, fighting with Dex isn't anything new. It's familiar territory, and it's something they're used to. They fight, they stop talking, they forget why they weren't talking, they move on, and it's never been a problem before now.

Two hours into practice, though, and it's clear that this time is a problem... because they're not gelling. Passes aren't connecting, plays are getting through that never would have before, and from the way Holster and Rans look at them before calling time, it's pretty clear that it's not all in Derek's head.

The problem is that he has no idea how to fix this.

Because he fucked up.

He fucked up hugely, and Dex won't make eye contact when they're forced to be in the same space, and it's different than it's ever been before. Because the chemistry isn't there.

Before, they would fight constantly over the stupidest of shit, but they could always fall back on their chemistry. It was easy. Instinctual, like sharing a hive-brain... and it's been like that since the first time they were partnered.

Now though, Derek's blades hit the ice, and he's alone.

It's really fucking lonely, missing someone that's right next to you

The thing is... knowing that you fucked up is different from knowing how to fix it. With Dex, it's always been about unspoken words and the importance of action. Words aren't necessary when you're in each other's heads, and maybe that should have changed when they started hooking up after their last freshman kegster, but it didn't. They just fell into each other, with wet mouths and eager fingers, and it was good, because it was really just an extension of their chemistry on the ice. It was just another way that they were good together without having to be good to each other.

And maybe they should have talked about it after the third month of stumbling into bed together, when Derek's heart got caught up in their actions... but then Dex would get squirrelly at the first mention of relationships, or queer youth, or fuckin' anything verging on personal... and maybe it was easier to keep feelings and words and hearts out of whatever it was they were doing.

It was easier to be chill.

At least, it was easier until it grew into this fucking ticking timebomb.

It was easier until Dex came barrelling in with accusations and fear and the fact that we was outed to a mother that Derek hadn't even really met...

Fuck.

The real killer of it all is the fact that when he actually got a chance to look at the pictures that apparently "outed" Dex, it wasn't what he was expecting at all. He had assumed they would be risque. He had been prepared for his hands to be down Dex's pants, or for there to be pictures of them grinding, hot and heavy and totally inappropriate for parental consumption. From the panic in Dex's voice, he had assumed it would be something horrible and explicit and...

and maybe the reality of it was worse, because it wasn't any of that.

No, Derek's Facebook feed was filled with picture after picture of the two of them. Just... fuckin' hanging out. No parties, no drinks, no sex. Just pictures of Dex leaning a little into Derek's side. Of the two of them walking close together on the way back from Annie's. Pictures of them obviously in the middle of an argument, hands flying and eyes flashing, and it would be funnier if the circumstances were different. It would be funnier if there weren't near-literal hearts in Derek's eyes in every single picture where he's looking at Dex. And maybe it would be hilarious if he didn't see the same, soft and love-sick look on Dex's face when he was looking back...

So, yeah. It became real clear real quick why Mrs. Poindexter thought they were dating.

Because even though he's not tagged, Dex is in every single picture that Derek was tagged in.

Because even in the pictures where they're fighting, they look like they're in love.

It's been two weeks since Dex came bursting into Derek's room, and Derek can't remember the last time he felt so cold.

Chapter Text

He wakes to darkness...

Which, honestly, is weird enough, but it's not Derek's first clue that something is off. No, even though he's used to waking up to the sun streaming through the sheer blinds his mom had insisted on, the real tip-off would be the sensation of being blindfolded and bound, with his thigh numb against what feels like cold concrete. You know, that, and the pounding hangover that's got his entire body seething with pain and regret... but, you know, priorities.

Somewhere off in the distance he can get a faint scent of pecan pie mingled with an overwhelming impression of mildew... and, just like that, it clicks.

He's in the fucking haus.

"H'lo?" He calls out, voice scratchy and warped from disuse, booming in the empty space. "Is anyone there?"

To his right there's a rustle and a groan that sound suspiciously familiar. Which... on the one hand, is a relief. The other hand, however...

"Jesus Christ, Nurse. Please, just, shut up for the love of everything holy and good in this world."

Yeah, on the other hand, that's the most that Dex has said to him in a month. Which... yeah.

The rustling sound continues for another few moments, only stopping after Dex whacks him in the ribs with his foot.

"Ugh, watch it."

"Well, I would watch it," Dex drawls, rustling noises increasing as if to reflect his irritation at being stuck with Derek. "But, you know, I'm blindfolded."

"Yeah, well... sorry. Poor choice of words."

Dex snorts from where he's still struggling, and Nurse tries to take solace in the fact that at least he's not alone.

Of course, that's when the tread of heavy footsteps coming down the stairs make him regret every cup of tub juice he must have had the night before. Because, fuck this noise.

"Aaaaaaaaalright, frogs. You are here today to serve your time." Rough hands work at the blindfold as the voice (that can only be described as Holster's) continues on. "For your crimes, you have been found guilty, and now you must face the sentence that was bestowed upon you by your elders."

Finally the blindfold comes off, and it just adds another wave of regret to the situation, because for some fucking reason they swapped out the regular dim light fixture for an exposed bulb, too bright even against Derek's closed eyes as it swings back and forth before him. It feels a lot like torture. From the way that Dex (and god, he hopes it's Dex) sags against him, it's pretty clear that Derek isn't the only one in pain.

With a deep breath, Derek forces his eyes open on the exhale, and immediately he wants to crawl into a hole. Because there, on the inexplicably placed smartboard (where in the hell did they get a smartboard come from? those things are fucking expensive, what in the hell) is something that looks suspiciously like a powerpoint slideshow. The first screen? Yeah. It's enough to have Derek wishing for death.

BROHOMO WITH RANSOM & HOLSTER #1

Sexual Tension And Teamwork: A Slippery Slope!

Clearing his throat dramatically, Ransom stepped in front of the smartboard as Holster stood to the other side.

"We have sentenced you..." Ransom paused dramatically, before nodding to Holster, who picks up the thread without missing a beat. "... to mandatory team building, starting now."

Risking a glance at Dex, it's immediately obvious how terrified he is... which only leaves Derek feeling slightly better. Mostly, though, it makes him feel like shit.

"Historically, sexual tension between D-men has been a boon to the Samwell Men's Hockey Team. We can trace the effects of this throughout our lineage all the way back to our forefathers. Jeremy Bones and Isaiah Washington were the first first line defensemen back in 1874, a.k.a. our inaugural year. As you can see in this slide, they were close. How close? Only the ghosts of Jeremy and Isaiah know for sure, but after months of sorting through the Founder’s database, we found the following damning evidence."

With a dramatic press of the smartboard remote, Holster flips through a series of sepia-toned photographs, all of which focus on two frankly average looking dudes. However, what started off as average and stuffy quickly devolved into a series of scandalous shots with progressively less clothing involved. Below each shot are the original captions. Captions like: ‘Best friends Washington and Bones conserving water’ beneath a shot of them bare from the waist up underneath a shower, arms wrapped around each other as they embraced, oblivious to the camera; ‘Seniors promoting healthy debate techniques’ beneath a shot of them literally making out. The next slide, in lime green comic sans, asks:

Bromance Or Romance? Who Cares!

"Our research has been inconclusive as to the actual nature of their relationship, but one thing is certain. Those dudes had mad chemistry, and it's something that as D-Men we need to ensure continues into the future."

As Rans talks, a slideshow of dudes in compromising positions - some friendly, some indecent, all in some kind of hockey gear - scrolls by in the background, slowly becoming more modern until finally stopping on a collage of pictures of Dex and Derek, ranging from shots of them grinding at a kegster to shots of them scowling at each other from across a room.

"That's what brings us here today, my young frogs." Holster says, voice far too loud for the confined space. Head throbbing, Derek does everything he can to avoid looking over at Dex. "We have turned a blind eye towards your issues for too long, and it's time to address it before it gets worse. Obviously you two have, like, mad tension between you. As you can see, our evidence shows that you clearly have sexual chemistry in spades. On the ice, you're usually crazy in sync, and until recently even the rudest of chirps weren't enough to get in the way of that. And, like, bros, we can work with that kind of tension. What we can’t deal with is the negative energy that you’ve been bringing every time you’re in the same space."

"Of course," Rans cuts in, opening a tab on the smartboard in order to play some mood music (Moonlight Sonata, what the fuck). "We had to fulfil our duties as your co-captains... so we did what anyone with great power would do. We took responsibility and came to the following conclusions:

“You two fell in love somewhere in the middle of your freshman year. As you can see in the photograph marked 'Exhibit A', you exhibit many obvious signs of trust and tenderness.”

The picture that Ransom is referring to is one of the pictures that had tipped off Mrs. Poindexter. They’re sprawled out in one of the haus armchairs, arms wrapped around eachother and eyes locked. They’re clearly in the middle of a conversation, but the only thing that really matters is the way that Dex is looking at Derek like he’s worth something. It’s a far cry from where they are now.

“Moving on to this Summer, please see 'Exhibit B', which is a screenshot of Mrs. Poindexter's Facebook status stating, and I quote, 'What does a mom have to do to meet her son's significant other these days?????? lolz' which was liked by none other than one Derek Nurse.

“Of course, when we went back to check our proof, the status was deleted, which tells us that between this Summer and now, something went down. That's when things get juicy... brace yourselves... for 'Exhibit C'..."

From the smug grin on their faces, it's clear that Rans and Holster think this is their ace in the hole... which is ridiculous, because Derek hasn't done anything to feed into their madness. Of course, that's when Moonlight Sonata cuts out (still, what the fuck), only to be replaced with grainy video that seems to have been shot with a night vision filter.

Though the sound is muffled, it quickly becomes clear that whoever is behind the camera is camped in front of Bitty's closed door. After a few moments of background noise, it filters out enough where Bitty's voice can be heard, faint but strong. 'Now, I'm sure it's not that bad, Dex. Maybe you just need to tell him how you feel.' There's a muffled response on the other end that devolves into something that sounds suspiciously like sobs. If it weren't for the fact that Bitty was clearly speaking to Dex by name, it would have been impossible to know who it was that he was talking to. 'I'm sure he didn't mean it,' Bitty croons, 'Maybe you just misunderstood. You two are always so quick to chirp each other, but really, Nursey's a good boy. I can't imagine he would ever say those things, and if he did, I'm sure he didn't mean them.' There's silence after that, and Derek can feel something that feels a lot like guilt curdle in his stomach... it's a completely different feeling from the nausea of his hangover. It's sharper, and more refined, and it only gets worse when the video cuts out.

The next slide is innocuous in comparison. Bright blue font against a neon yellow background screaming at his retinas:

'Miscommunication And You!'

"It became clear to us, after extensive research, just what had happened, which is why we're here today. We are here... for closure." Ransom takes a deep breath before moving on to the next slide, a purple on purple monstrosity titled:

'How To Let Go When Your Lover Says No’

"Obviously, you two were in a serious relationship last year. Obviously, it was serious enough where Mrs. Poindexter knew about Nurse and wanted to meet him. Perhaps even more obviously, Nurse ended the relationship at some point after the first kegster of the year. And finally, the most obvious of all, Dex has been unable to let go. Which brings us here."

"Closure," Holster starts, "is the most important step to take in the journey towards healing the wounds of the heart."

The slides flip over, this time to a picture of Ransom in a cheap pair of scrubs holding a kid's play stethoscope in one hand and a grossly realistic heart in the other.

"It's clear to us that, while the sexual tension was important to your relationship on the ice, you won't be able to move forward until you actually accept that it isn't the only thing that made you great together. It is my professional opinion," Rans says, as if he's a doctor already, and seriously... this is getting more and more obnoxious as time goes on, "that Dex needs closure and that Nurse needs to clearly communicate why the relationship wasn't working for him. It's the only way for you two to move on."

The powerpoint comes to an end at that point, the final screen coming up with a picture of Ransom and Holster arm-in-arm with the words 'THE END' superimposed on top.

From the way that their captains are staring at them, like puppies eager for a treat, it's clear that they're waiting for something... a pat on the head, or some relationship therapy-esque dialogue, which is great... if you disregard the fact that pretty much everything they deduced was wrong... and offensive... and really, really invasive.

He's about to say as much when Dex clears his throat from beside him.

"As much as I appreciate you guys going to... such great lengths to fix this, it's all good." Dex's voice is thick, though if it's with tears or anger, it's impossible to tell. All Derek knows is that he can't bring himself to look in Dex's direction... because this is all on him. And somehow... somehow, it’s getting pinned on Dex.

"Seriously, I know that I've been bringing down the team, but I already got the closure that I needed... and I'm going to do the best I can to stop my feelings from impacting the team. This is- this has nothing to do with Nurse. This is on me, and I understand if you need to switch me out with someone more compatible. I just want what's best for the team."

It sounds canned.

It sounds like Dex has been practicing what to say, and that alone has Derek's chest aching... because this is literally the worst case scenario. Glancing up at Ransom and Holster, it's obvious that they're thinking the same thing.

"Look. I'm not feeling well, and you've more than made your point... can I go?"

There's a weighted pause as Holster shrugs helplessly at Ransom, the two of them communicating solely with shoulders and eyebrow wiggles before finally coming to the conclusion that they did all they could.

"Yeah, of course Dexy. Lemme get you untied, and then you can head off. We'll talk later about your place on the line, okay?"

Dex doesn't respond, but it's clear that they're not getting anything else out of him at this point. He rolls to his feet the second that he’s cut free, and he's out of there before Derek can think of something to say.

Ransom cuts him free, and Derek takes a long moment to massage the blood flow into his limbs before climbing up the basement stairs.

Dex is long gone, though, and from the way Bitty's cutting his eyes at him, it's obvious that Derek needs to fix this before it gets any worse.

Chapter Text

It takes Derek a full week to gather his courage... which... yeah, he's not proud of it, but he's also not proud of the way that he's let Dex deal with everything on his own. Honestly, there’s not much lately that he’s proud of when it comes to himself.

At some point, Dex became more than just a thorn in his side. Somehow, he became the bright point in Derek's life - challenging, witty, dry, and so gorgeous... and somehow- somehow Derek managed to alienate his teammate over nothing. Over a fight-or-flight reaction that bordered on cruel and toed over the line of too much.

It's a lingering hurt, and it's Derek's fault.

Which, of course, brings him to this moment. There's ice on the ground and melting snow in his hair, and none of it matters because Dex - for some reason - has opened his door and has let Derek inside. It's more than he deserves... which, in itself, is a selfish thought... but Derek's always been selfish when it comes to the things that matter.

Dex doesn't say anything once the door's closed, just goes to sit in front of the double windows overlooking the Quad. If this was two months ago, it would have been unnerving to have Dex so quiet and still... but it's not two months ago, and this is their new normal.

"I wanted to tell you, I'm... I'm really sorry, Dex." The words gust out of him fast, like the snow that's churning outside, but there's still so much inside of him that's begging to be said. "I never meant to out you, and I never meant to hurt you… not really, and, like, I know that it's too little too late, but I miss you. Like, so much."

Something complicated flashes across Dex's face, but he doesn't lash out and he doesn't turn away. He just... shrugs.

"It's fine, Nurse. We're good."

He sounds fine. He sounds fucking normal, but nothing about this is normal, because Derek fucked up and Dex isn't giving him hell for it. He's not fighting or protecting himself... he looks the same as he always has, but Derek can't help but feel that he's smaller. That he takes up less space when Derek comes into a room. And that - that’s the furthest thing from being okay.

"We're not good, Dex. I was the fucking worst to you. I treated you like shit, and I lashed out when you didn't deserve it, and I've let you shoulder everything alone. Like... I know that your mom has been cool with everything, but that doesn't change the fact that you were outed against your will... and it doesn't change the fact that things aren't great between us. I mean, they had to split us up on the ice, and… look, all of that is on me."

Dex scoffs at that, and it's possibly the best thing that Derek's heard in a long time.

"Why is everything about you, man? Yeah, I was outed, but I took a second or five to look at your Facebook page... and that wasn't on you at all. You can't help what people tagged you in, and it's not like it was some risque shit. It was just us hanging out... there's no way you could have known, and it was really uncool of me to pin it on you when you had nothing to do with it. Everything else?" He shrugs again, and it's like a punch to the gut. "It is what it is."

It would be easy to accept Dex's easy forgiveness. It would be so fucking easy, but - and here's the thing - if Derek takes this now, he'll never have anything with Dex again. It's just a gut feeling, but this Dex isn't his. There's no fire, there's no snark, and there's no softness behind the eyes. His fingers itch to trace along the freckles on Dex's cheek... to reclaim some of the tenderness that they had buried so deep underneath sex and chirping.

It's not his right to want it... but that doesn't make the wanting go away.

"What if I want more than 'it is what it is'?"

Dex... doesn't react to that at all, and part of Derek wants to give up - wants to throw his hands up and move on. But then there's the part of Derek that remembers how good it felt to belong to Dex - even if it was unspoken - even if they didn't deal in confessions or handholding or dates.

Derek knows exactly how far down Dex's blush reaches when he’s overwhelmed, and he knows how soft his lips can be. Yielding and fierce, all at once.

They didn't hold hands so much as grasp onto each other with every fibre of their beings, but Derek remembers it all the same.

"Dex. Can you- look, I know I don't deserve it, but can you look at me? I'm a fuckup. But... I'm really into you, and it's not the sex, and it's not the way we were on the ice." He takes a shuddering breath before pressing forward, and his chest aches because Dex's eyes have fallen and it's so, so quiet between them. "You said that whatever you were wasn't worth dating, and- like, if that was on the table, I would woo the shit out of you. I didn't realize that was something you would want... and, you know, maybe not having you around made me realize how important you are - how vital you are to my day-to-day. And, like, there’s no other way to say it. I would date the shit out of you, Dex."

"What the fuck, Nurse?" Maybe before it would have been harsh, but now Dex looks- well, he looks soft, like he did after everything fell apart. There's snow flurrying behind him, and the light is cool and harsh, and he's soft. "I know that I overreacted, but you don't need to pity me. I don't need a date that fuckin' bad. Like, my mom wasn't thrilled, but I managed to explain to her that we weren't dating without getting explicit, and she got it. We all got it."

Derek goes to answer, but Dex beats him to it, hand raised in a silent plea to stop. And, really, it's the least that Derek can do. So, he does.

"We don't even know each other... not really. Not enough for you to want to date me, and not enough for us to just fall into being together like we used to be. I mean, do you even remember what you said to me? I know that we weren't exclusive, but you're the only guy I've ever been with... and knowing that you - what, I mean, I can't even - you thought I was hooking up with other people like it was nothing? I know that we weren't anything beyond what we were, but... how am I supposed to be okay with any of this when you'd think so fuckin' low of me?"

And... that's a good point.

Everything that Dex has said, it's all valid, and Derek's spent enough time preparing for every rejection. But, it still doesn’t feel good. Which, really… is okay. It’s going to have to be okay.

“You’re right.”

Dex was clearly expecting some kind of fight, which only makes Derek feel worse… because he’s somehow become the kind of asshole that won’t take no for an answer. And Dex deserves better than that.

“I said some really fucked up shit, and it wasn’t fair to you. None of this has been fair to you… but, look. We’re not good. And, maybe we were never good, but I want to get better. Like, if it’s chill with you, I’d like to try being your friend.”

Again, Dex looks surprised… which really is an answer in itself, but then he’s nodding - shy and tentative, like this is the first time someone’s offered this to him. It makes Derek’s heart catch for a moment before he’s smiling in response.

He can do friends.

Chapter Text

It turns out that being friends with Dex is pretty chill. Like, it's tentative and awkward sometimes, but when it's not? Yeah...

Derek starts small. He stops shooting down Dex's ideas in public just to rile him up, and he stops pushing Dex just to see him get flustered. He had tried to stop the chirping for like, a solid five days, but it was either chirp or be chirped when it came to Dex... and the smile he had gotten once he had stopped letting Dex get away with even the lamest of chirps? Yeah...

So, it becomes a delicate balance between being kinder, but not too kind; being snarky, but not cruel; wanting to make Dex smile without falling for him.

It's a fucking tightrope.

But.

It's worth it.

Like, it turns out that Dex is hilarious when Derek stops being offended on principal long enough to actually hear the words that are coming out of Dex's mouth. It turns out that Dex has opinions on everything, and more of those opinions are in line with what Derek thinks than either of them would probably have ever anticipated. Like, the dude hates American Idol ('The only good one was Danny Noriega, and he only came into his own once he started performing in drag.'), but he loves watching America's Next Top Model reruns ('Bro, don't look at me that way, season 1 was the shit. Elyse was fuckin’ robbed.'). He has opinions on music ('Yeah, the Beatles are okay, but I feel like they're really overrated. Like, you want to listen to some good shit? David Bowie all the way.') and art ('Yeah. I don't fuckin' get it, but I'll be damned if it doesn't make me feel something, you know?') and poetry ('I really don't fuckin' get it.')... and look, maybe before all of this, Derek would have been too distracted with trying to one up Dex to actually listen to him... but now that they're trying the friend thing? He finds himself looking forward to hearing what Dex has to say. And yeah... it's nice.

Being Dex's friend is awesome.

But then he starts dating... and, like... it's still awesome to be Dex's friend. The opinions don't get less interesting, and his anecdotes don't get less dry and hilarious, and marathoning bad reality tv doesn't get less fun... but it still stings like a bitch when Derek glances over to see hickies on Dex's neck, or when Derek holds a seat for him at the cafeteria only to find out that he's eating with someone else.

Someone named Chad. Someone else named Melissa.

There's a guy that lasts a few weeks named Luis, but he gets swapped out sooner rather than later for some girl that Derek never even gets introduced to (her name might be Lacey... maybe).

And... look, Derek would be a grade A asshole if he held it against Dex. Derek fucked up a good thing, and it's not Dex's fault that he fucked up a good thing... and maybe it's good that Dex is getting the freedom to do what he wants with who he wants.

They talked about it once - not the boyfriends and the girlfriends and the one-night stands thing... but about how Dex's mom knowing and accepting that he wasn't 100% straight took a lot of the weight off of his shoulders. The rest of his family doesn't know yet, but it doesn't feel like as much of a burden as it was before. And, like, Derek can empathise until the cows come home, but it's never really been something he’s had to worry about.

His parents had always made it clear to him from day one that they didn't care who he was with, as long as they made him happy. His coming out was less like a trial and more like a celebration... they went out for iced hot chocolate afterwards, and then they went out to see a movie, and if you asked Derek what movie it was (and Dex does ask, because he likes to get the details straight), he wouldn't be able to tell you. All he really remembers is how nice it was to have something be about him... to have a moment where his parents weren't rushing after the next deal or heading out for the latest trip. It was just really, really nice to be the center of their world for one night.

So, yeah. Derek can't relate to how it must feel for Dex to be able to really spread his wings. And maybe that's part of the reason it hurts so much when Dex admits to having slept with Luis. And... it’s just…. he can't say shit. He can't, because this isn't Dex flaunting his sex life to hurt him, and this isn't something that was dropped into Derek's lap out of the blue.

Friends talk about this shit.

So, when Dex gets real quiet after sharing, Derek does the only thing he can.

"I hope that he was good to you, man. And, like, that you had a good time... and that you were safe. Shitty would die, come back from the dead, and then kill you if he found out that you weren't being safe. And, like, I don't know about you, but I can do without the stench of embalming fluid and resentment, so, like... don't risk it."

It sounds good to Derek's ears once the words are out there. Not too heavy, not too light. Not condescending, and not flippant. And he's overthinking it. Dex is looking at him like he's got three heads, and he's over thinking how to be a good bro. Fuck.

"Do you give all the kids safe sex zombie talks, or is that an honor just for me?"

"I'd say it's just you, but I don't want your head to get too big, Poindexter."

It's a weak chirp, but Dex doesn't call him out on it. He laughs instead, before kicking at Derek's shin.

"No worries on that front... but, like… thanks. For listening. You didn't hear it from me, but it means a lot. And, y’know, it was fun. And we were safe, so you don't have to worry about embalming fluid getting everywhere. I promise."

They spend the next half hour imagining what zombie!Shitty would be like ('Oh man, he'd be the worst. All of our Halloween costumes would be offensive and, like, ghoul appropriation, 'n shit.'), and Derek spends the next five days convincing himself that he's not jealous.

Because, even if he were, it would be dumb to be jealous over something he could have had.

(he's so fucking dumb)

Chapter Text

So, he's stupid, but Derek knows better than to be a total asshole. Even though all he wants to do is pry that douchebag's hands from Dex's hips. And like, maybe he wants to punch the dude in the face for daring to pant heavy into Dex's ear in between licking and nibbling at it. And, okay, like, maybe Derek's fists are aching from how much he wants to fucking murder this guy for grinding up on Dex like he owns him.

There are a thousand different ways that Derek wants to stake a claim... but - and this is the important part - Dex doesn't want him. Not anymore. The friendship that they have now is more than Derek deserves... and Dex is obviously into this dude. His body's putty in the guy's hands, all pleasure and soft skin over hard muscle, and Derek remembers how good it felt to be the one with a claim - however tenuous and fucked up their hooking up was... it was still theirs.

So, yeah. Derek grabs himself another cup of tub juice and retreats toward the reading room... because if he's left watching the mating ritual of the tall and ginger, he's going to do something he regrets.

He's halfway up the stairs (with only half of his drink spilled all over him - which, to be honest, is a major win) when the shouting starts... which wouldn't be anything new if it weren’t for the way that the music cuts off almost immediately after.

And, look, he's had more to drink than he probably should have, so he's pretty much reduced to watching everything happen from the stairs, but... it's just- it's a lot to watch.

Bitty's shooing people out of the haus with the kind of authority that comes from being a coach's kid. Chowder and Whiskey are dragging some dude out, and the dude’s screaming all kinds of shit, but Derek can't focus on any of that because all of a sudden Dex is standing in front of him, and there's blood on his knuckles, and he's pale as a sheet, and he looks like he's about to fucking shatter.

And Derek's drunk.

That's the only excuse he can come up with for what happens next...

For the way that he manhandles Dex into the bathroom to clean up his knuckles.

For the way that he stumbles downstairs to raid the freezer for ice, only to shriek when Dex pops up behind him, looking less shook up and more exhausted by the moment.

For the way that he ices Dex's knuckles, holding the ice with one hand and stroking over his wrist with the other...

For the way that Dex doesn't pull his hand away to do it himself, and for the way that he leans closer to Derek... like he trusts Derek... like he depends on him...

That's way more important than being the one that Dex wants to dance with, Derek thinks, eyes trained on how red and bruised Dex's knuckles are compared to the rest of him.

"You wanted to dance with me, Nursey?"

Dex's voice is honey sweet, and it takes a long minute for Derek to realize that he must have spoken aloud.

"Nothin', don't worry about it. It doesn't matter, 'cause I'm gonna get you patched up, and I'm gonna get you back to your dorm, and I'm gonna take care of you."

He's slurring his words, but Dex doesn't call him on it. He just nods along and lets Derek pull him where he needs to be. He doesn't complain at all when Derek makes the rounds, one hand wrapped around Dex's wrist to keep him close, and the other hand wrapped around the bottle of water that Dex had insisted he drink. And, like, Dex doesn't bitch about it when Derek takes the long way back to the dorms ('It's okay, Nurse. I don't mind.') just to check on the duck that Derek's been keeping tabs on all winter. Now that everything's thawed, Chuck the Duck has found himself a lady, and it's been pretty chill to watch them build a nest. Derek's at least 30% sure that Mrs. Chuck the Duck is sitting on a clutch of eggs. It's s'waesome.

By the time they get back to Dex's dorm, he's still drunk as hell, but he feels less removed from the moment. Like, he can feel the way that Dex is leaning into him now, and he can appreciate how dark it is outside and how the campus lights illuminate everything.

And he's fucking wiped out, but before he can crawl into bed he's got to take care of Dex... and that's more important than anything else.

"C'mon, Dexy, let's get you to bed."

Dex doesn't fight him on this, just lets Derek walk him in past the night monitor, both of their student IDs out and ready.

Dex doesn't resist when Derek takes his room key, swiping them in before herding Dex inside. Like a sheep. A cute, angry little sheep with, like, bloody knuckles and ginger hair… and eyes.

It's not a perfect analogy, but considering the way that the room is kind of spinning, it's not bad.

Once the door closes behind them, Dex just... stands there, and even now, with four cups of tub juice and three shots of something gross in his system, Derek knows that Dex isn't okay. So, he goes through Dex's drawers to pull out the soft fleece pajama pants he knows Dex likes, and he manages to track down Dex's toothbrush without tripping over his feet, and when he finally starts to push Dex towards the bathroom to get ready for bed, Dex doesn't resist.

He does, however, pull Derek in with him... which is chill, since he's kind of had to pee for what feels like ten thousand years at this point. Luckily, both stalls are open when they head in, and it doesn't take too long before Derek's washing his hands and Dex is stepping out of the handicapped stall in his pajamas.

And he looks... so soft. And not for the first time, Derek wants... he focuses on tearing off a sheet of paper towel instead, allows the rough texture of it ground him as he waits for Dex to finish brushing his teeth.

After that, they retreat back to Dex's single, Derek lagging behind to make sure the door is locked.

And... Dex is just standing there, in the middle of the room, looking tired and sad and perfect, and Derek needs to put him to bed before he makes an ass of himself.

"Alright. C'mon," he says as he pulls back the covers for Dex to crawl in. Dex is like, the only person Derek knows that actively makes his bed every day, but in the moment he can kind of see the point. It looks so inviting, with the cover pulled back and the sheets tucked in where they should be (instead of crumbled at the bottom of the mattress like Derek's are). It's something that he'll have to look into later - making his bed, that is - because right now, it's more concerning that Dex isn't getting into bed.

"C'mon, man. It's time for bed. Crawl in, and then I'll head out, okay?"

Dex shakes his head at that, and it's only then that Derek can see the tears that have been welling up in Dex's eyes. He's about to ask if there's anything he can do, but then Dex is there, standing so close in front of him, and he's so fucking soft.

And that's when Dex kisses him.

There's nothing soft about the kiss, or the way that Dex's fingers are clenched around Derek's biceps, or the way that Dex's tongue tastes like tequila.

And, like, even fucking drunk as a skunk, Derek knows that this isn't right.

He can feel Dex's tears on his face from where they're smooshed tight together, and it kind of makes his stomach turn (though, that could be the alcohol... who the fuck knows).

Bringing his hands up to cup Dex's face (and god, it's so wet, and Dex is so sad, and Derek thinks - for just a second - that it's a horrible thing to be in love with someone you can't have), Derek pulls back.

He doesn't let himself fall back in when Dex's lips chase his, but he also doesn't let Dex run when he realizes what happened - and Derek can see the moment that it sinks in, because that's the moment that Dex tries to jerk away.

And, like - that's not okay either.

Derek lets go of his face, but it’s only to wrap his arms around Dex... and it's awkward. Dex is stiff and unyielding... until he's not. Until he's crying, and sagging into Derek's arms, and not for the first time, Derek wishes he was better at this.

But, he's not.

So he does the best he can.

He pushes Dex towards the bed, and he climbs in after him, pulling the covers tight around them both before wrapping his arms around Dex and pulling him close.

It's different from any other time that they've shared a bed.

More intimate than any of the times they had fucked.

The last thing that Derek thinks before sleep pulls him under is that it's a shame.

Chapter Text

He wakes up with a crick in his neck and a pounding headache. He also wakes up without a pillow… which fucking sucks. To put it simply, he’s uncomfortable as hell, and it only takes a second of looking around before he realizes why.

He's not in his fucking bed.

Head pounding and his tongue heavy, dry and disgusting behind his teeth, he closes his eyes against the morning light and recaps over everything that happened the night before.

He remembers the guy that Dex had been dancing on, and everything after that is just... fuzzy. There was a fight, or something, and then Derek went on literal nurse autopilot... taking care of Dex, making sure he got home safe... the fucking kiss.

The whole thing feels like a dream, except he's here in Dex's bed (super fucking uncomfortable, no wonder Dex gets so grouchy), and he’s alone.

Dex… is nowhere to be found. He's not in the room, and when Derek gets up to take a piss, he's not in the bathroom or the hallway either.

There's no note on the desk, and when he finally manages to fish his phone from where it had fallen into the well between the mattress and the frame, he can see that Dex hadn't texted him either.

Which... is a pretty fucking big sign. Because, like, if Dex can't stand the idea of Derek being here to the point where he'd flee the fucking scene?

It doesn't sit well in Derek's stomach when he bends down to pull on his shoes, and the feeling only gets worse as he crosses the quad. Like, usually it's not a long walk between their dorms, but today it feels like the walk goes on forever, and he feels like he's gonna be sick.

So, he does.

Get sick, that is.

Luckily he can hold it til he gets back to his floor, but then it's a mad dash to the bathrooms and everything sucks.

It sucks, and it's horrible, and not for the first time, Derek swears that he'll never drink again (even if he knows that he will - even if he looks forward to the way that it numbs him - even if there are days when he lives for it), until finally his stomach stops quaking.

It doesn't make him feel better, to have thrown everything up, but it does clear his head a little. It clears his head enough where he doesn't want to die when he bends over for his toiletry kit, and it helps him stay steady when he heads back into the bathroom to take a shower, letting the hot water stream over his shoulders and down his back until he can get the energy to wash his hair.

He's in the shower for longer than he'd usually allow, but it feels good to have the water pounding down on him. When he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend that the water is rinsing away his regrets - like, if regret was sticky and smelled like tub juice, it would totally be a thing.

It just... it feels good, and considering last night, and considering this morning, Derek can't help but think that he deserves to feel a little good.

By the time he's washed and dried and changed into fresh clothes that don't smell like a frat party, there's still not a text from Dex, but there is a post-party brunch invite from Bitty that's almost as good (if you're in denial, but whatever). So he pulls his shoes back on, and he heads to the haus, and he wonders if Dex will be there.

He's not.

And, apparently, he's not the only one that notices.

Bitty's got a crease between his eyebrow that doesn't smooth out when everyone compliments his pancakes, and Chowder's a little quieter than usual, eyes darting back and forth from Derek to the empty plate beside him ('Just in case,' Bitty had said, before turning away to tend to the bacon). Ransom and Holster are reenacting the fight between Dex and the dude he had been dancing with, and Lardo stepped out halfway through her first stack, phone to her ear and a nod to Bitty before heading up the stairs to her room.

Everyone's a little off, and Derek is tired. And confused. And more than a little nauseous, but he eats all the same before rinsing his plate and grabbing a trash bag to start clearing up.

He works for what feels like five minutes, but by the time Bitty comes over with a glass of water and a concerned smile, he's ready to crash.

"Y'know, you're not the only one that has to be cleanin’ right now," Bitty drawls before handing the water over. Derek can feel his eyes on him as he takes a long drink, those big, southern eyes taking him apart even as he smiles. "You've been workin’ for long enough, Nursey, why don't you head on out?"

He'd resist, but one look at his watch shows that what had felt like minutes had really been hours, and even though the food had helped settle his stomach, he's still feeling like shit.

Handing the glass back, Derek shrugs before turning to grab his sweatshirt.

"It's chill, Bits. If you guys don't need me, I'll just head back to the dorms."

"Mhmm, you do that. And, y'know, why don't you do me a little favor and bring some of these mini pies back for Dex?" Derek turns around at that, only to find Bitty holding two brown paper bags of what can only be said mini pies. "You’ll get a bag all to yourself for your efforts."

Gritting his teeth, Derek nods in agreement and takes the bags, heavy and fragrant with the scent of cinnamon and maple, before heading out the door. Of course, because fuck his life, Bitty's not done with him. He's only about halfway through the doorway when Bitty's hand comes falling down on his shoulder.

"I know this is none of my business, but you should talk to your boy. I heard some of what was said last night, before he started brawlin', and I think Dex would really appreciate you bein' there for him. You're a good boy, Derek. A good friend."

With that, Bitty's hand lifts, and Derek can hear his footsteps as he walks deeper into the haus. And, like, Bitty's words sound good, but as Derek thinks back to last night - the way that Dex had broken down - and Derek knows that he's not that great a friend after all. Because even as he pushed Dex away, Derek can clearly remember wanting more.

And that's not really what Dex needs in a friend.

Despite his heavy thoughts, Derek starts the long walk back to the dorms. He only stops long enough to check on his ducks, and even then he doesn't linger too long.

After all, he's got pies to deliver.

Chapter Text

Dex doesn't reply to his first text (‘Yo. Bits sent me home with mini pies for you. Let me kno when you’re gonna be around.’), but he does reply to Derek's second text (‘Seriously, let me know. I think we need to talk.’). Of fucking course he's going to reply to the second one. Fuck.

It doesn't matter what kind of relationship you have... no one wants to read 'we need to talk' via text.

It's up there in terms of distasteful text messages, second only to unwanted dick pics. Ugh. Of all the various ways to come off as entitled and desperate, unsolicited dick pics are the fucking worst.

Shaking his head to clear out all thoughts about dicks - pics or otherwise - Derek takes a moment to wipe the palms of his hands on his jeans before knocking on Dex's door. His heart is racing a little, and it's ridiculous, because Derek knows that he shouldn't be having palpitations over hanging out with his bro... but, the honest part of him also knows that, even though they've been better... and even though Derek's been trying to be a good friend... he'd be lying if he said he just saw Dex as a bro.

Somehow, despite everything, Dex is still the star that he's hung his heart on... and, even though Derek knows that Dex doesn't feel the same... he can't force his heart to stop racing. He can't stop that any more than he can stop his feelings from running over into everything. Like, he sees memes now, and his first thought is whether or not they would make Dex laugh. Mrs. Chuck the Duck laid four eggs, and Dex was the only one that Derek wanted to share the news with. And, like... he had told Dex, and Dex hadn't judged him for being so invested in a couple of ducks. He had just sat there and told him about the time his sister's dog gave birth to puppies, and how great it was to have them until they were old enough to adopt out... how he had cried for weeks.

So, yeah. Despite Derek's best intentions, when Dex opens the door to him and waves him in, Derek doesn't think 'friend' when he looks at Dex.

He thinks 'forever', and it's kind of a problem.

"So... you wanted to talk?"

The words sound resigned, and all at once Derek has to wipe his palms against his jeans again, and it's gross, but whatever.

"Well, yeah. First off, Bitty sent over some pies for you. Everyone was kind of concerned after, you know... everything that went down last night. They all say hey." Slinging his backpack onto Dex's desk, he pulls the pies out before setting them down, drawing the moment out before they have to talk about shit that actually matters. "And, like... I wanted to talk to you about last night. Because, I've been kind of worried about you?"

Dex sighs at that, as if Derek can't worry about him, and that just spurs him on further.

"Yeah. Like, I don't really know what happened with you and that guy, but... Dex, you've gotta know that I care about you. And, if I crossed a line by staying here with you last night, I mean- like, I don't want to apologise, because I wasn't about to leave you alone... but if it made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry for that."

Dex sighs again, and if Derek's heart didn't feel like lead in his stomach, he'd probably chirp him for it, but as it is, all he can do is wait.

Careful to avoid any papers, he sits down on the corner of Dex's desk, and he waits. Because Dex is worth waiting for, and because Dex looks exhausted, and because it feels like the thing to do.

"Nurse... I'm so, so sorry." Dex's voice breaks on the sorry, and it hurts. "I wasn't drunk enough to excuse what I did, and even if I was, it still wouldn't be an excuse."

"What are you talking about?"

Dex shoots him a look like he's stupid, and maybe he is, but he's had his head wrapped around all the ways that he could have fucked things up (by being too obvious in his feelings, by staying the night, by being half in love with Dex), that it honestly never occurred to him that Dex could have fucked up too.

"I should never have kissed you like that. I was just-" In all the time that they've known each other, Derek can't remember Dex's ears ever being this red, but it's hard to focus on that fact when Dex looks like he's about to bolt. "After everything, it just felt like maybe I could have that... and I was so, fucking angry, and- and I... I'm so sorry, Nurse."

"What do you mean, you thought you could have it?"

Taking a deep breath, Dex sits down at his desk chair, and it's a weird sensation to look down at him. Derek's so used to being eye-to-eye with Dex - from the brawling, to the chirping, to the times they were closer - and the change in perspective leaves him a little disoriented.

"I’m just... I'm tired, Nurse." He says, looking up at Derek with his amber eyes, and in the moment he's everything Derek's ever wanted. "I'm so tired of dating around, and hooking up, and trying to find someone that I like half as much as I like you. Because, you're a fuckin' asshole, but I like that about you most of the time... and the times that I don't like it as much?

"I see you trying to make up for what you said, and that was months ago. That's old fuckin' news, but you're still trying, and I don't know that anyone's ever tried that hard for me.

"And I was dancing last night with this guy that, even if I saw him now with a big-ass shiner on his face, I wouldn't be able to pick him out of a line-up. And, I'm tired of that? Like, this guy was dancing on me, and he was whispering all kinds of nasty shit to me - all about what he wanted to do to me, and how I was going to like it... how I was a fuckin' slut, and I just saw red, because I'm not. I'm not, but even if I was... I just fuckin' snapped, and then next thing I knew, there was blood everywhere, he was getting kicked out, and I just wanted you to make it better.

"Because you make things better, Nurse. And, the kicker is, you did make it better. You were fuckin' out of your mind drunk, but you took care of me, and- I kissed you. And... I'm sorry. Because I've been thinking about it for awhile now, and, look... if I was going to kiss you, I didn't want it to be while you were drunk and I was fucked up."

He takes a deep, shuddering breath before letting it out, eyes falling to the desk in front of him, and Derek... Derek wants to date the fuck out of him.

"I want to date you."

Dex looks back up at that, eyes wide and searching, like he's trying to find the lie. And that won't do at all.

"Really, Dex. I want to date the fuck out of you. Because being your friend is great, but I'm kind of gone on you in a big way? I want to hold your hand, and I want to take you out, and I want to make you Valentine's day cards from scratch. And, you know, maybe I want to be the only one you dance with at parties... I want to earn that. Like, if any of that sounds good to you, you just... just fucking say the word, and it's on."

There's a smile on Dex's face now, growing slow and pretty across his face. It's the kind of smile that Tyra Banks talks about when she goes on about smizing, and it's beautiful. Dex is beautiful, and as he reaches over to take Derek's hands in his, Derek can't help but think that Dex is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"Yeah," Dex says, voice thick and sweet. "That sounds good to me, Nursey."

And just like that... it was on.

Chapter Text

So, it turns out that being on the same page with Dex?

It’s kind of amazing.

It’s kind of the best thing in Derek’s life, because, like… he might be obsessed with the feeling he gets from making Dex smile? Or laugh?

And then there’s the hand holding. Like, Dex has literally made him cum so hard he sees stars, but nothing feels as good as holding Dex’s hand. One day, he’s going to memorize every callous and line and scar on Dex’s hands - he’ll know them better than the backs of his own hands - but until then, he’s going to take his time enjoying every second he gets to learn them. Because, like, Dex has excellent hands.

Honestly, Dex has excellent everything. He’s kind of great that way. He’s an asshole, and he’s rough around the edges when he wants to be, but he’s also hilarious and sweet and gorgeous, and Derek’s kind of gone on him. Which… is why he’s where he is now. Pacing the perimeter of the haus kitchen as Bitty throws out ideas, chill long since abandoned in favor of panic.

“Well, what about goin’ to see a show together? Maybe there’s a band you can go see this weekend.”

“Oh god, Bitty. He hates my music! And, like, I know that he likes dad rock, but I’m not about to sit through two hours of shitty Bruce Springsteen cover band music.” Bitty throws him a look at that, and all Derek can do is shrug. “I already looked to see what was available, and I just… I like him a lot, but I don’t hate myself, okay?”

“Mhmm, well, I’d say that it’s pretty clear that you like him, Nursey. Why don’t you just… keep it simple?”

“I-” Derek pauses for a moment to check that there’s no one close enough to eavesdrop before continuing. “This is our first date, Bits. I need to make sure he knows that I’m invested in this, because I don’t want him to second guess it or change his mind… because, like, I fucked up before, and we weren’t good together… but I want to be good for him now. So, this can’t just be a first date. It has to be the first date to end all first dates.”

His face is warm by the end of his speech, but that doesn’t compare to the way it burns when Bitty clucks his tongue at him.

“Derek Nurse, that boy looks at you like you hung the moon… and, while I don’t know all of what y’all got up to before, I think that if you keep this up now, there’s a good chance he won’t change his mind any time soon.

“You’re allowed to make mistakes, Nursey. You both are, and it’s up to you if you want to learn from them…”

Bitty smiles at him, warm and sweet, before turning around to pull a pie out of the oven - it’s a maple sugar crusted apple pie, which means that Jack’s coming to visit… and while neither of them are really out with whatever it is they’re doing, it makes Derek feel warm inside to see the ritual.

The pie smells like love and home, and just like that, Derek knows what he wants to do.

“Hey, Bitty? I’ve kinda got an idea… but I’d need your help to pull it off.”

“Anything,” Bitty replies, face determined and, god… Derek’s never been more thankful that he chose Samwell over Yale.

“Well… what do you know about picnics?”

It takes two days of planning and one daunting morning of playing sous chef to Bitty (and, like, dear god, but Gordon Ramsay has got nothing on Bitty when it comes to ruling the kitchen with an iron fist), but before Derek knows it, it’s Saturday and he’s ready.

Like, he’s got the blankets spread out, and he’s got a ridiculously kitschy picnic basket that Bitty pulled out of nowhere, and he’s wearing the green sweater that Lardo had suggested he wear (more like dictated, but whatever, it’s a nice sweater - apparently it ‘brings out his eyes’, or something). He’s got everything ready, it’s a beautiful day, and Dex already texted that he was on his way… there was a smiley. It was ridiculously cute, and exactly what Derek needed.

He’s got this.

At least, he had it before Dex came into view, wearing a burgundy pullover and his nicer pair of jeans - the ones that make his ass look amazing, if Derek’s remembering correctly - and he’s gorgeous. Any chill that Derek was retaining goes straight out the fucking window when Dex smiles at him, warm and a little shy, and fucking hell, Derek feels that smile all the way down to his toes.

“Hey,” he says, all the words he had planned falling to the wayside - words like ‘you look great’ and ‘thank you for giving this a shot’ and ‘please don’t change your mind’. Luckily, Dex doesn’t look too worried by his lack of conversation. Instead, his smile gets bigger as he takes in the scene before him, and for the first time in days, Derek breathes easy.

Because this is Dex, and even if this dating thing is new, they aren’t. And if there’s one way to get to William Poindexter’s heart, it’s through food.

“C’mon, Poindexter, have a seat and we’ll see what we’ve got.”

Derek starts to riffle through the basket as Dex takes a seat - he’s close enough that Derek can feel his warmth… close enough that their elbows brush when he hands Dex a sandwich. It’s just… it’s a lot, and it’s really nice.

Dex huffs a quiet laugh as he unwraps his sandwich, but a quick glance in his direction sets Derek at ease. It’s not a mocking laugh. It’s… it’s painfully soft, and happy, and there’s a smile in Dex’s eyes when he turns towards Derek.

“PB&J, huh? Pulling out all the stops, Nurse, aren’t you?”

With something that feels a lot like pride, Derek flicks him in the forehead before going back to the basket.

“Well, the way I see it, you set a spending limit, and it was my job to exceed expectations. So, like, if my crazy sandwich skills haven’t won you over yet, you should hold onto your seat, because this date is far from over.”

It takes him a minute to wrestle the bottle out, but a victory is a victory, no matter how long it takes.

“I didn’t have any nice glasses, and Bitty wouldn’t let me take any, so we’re gonna have to share from the bottle.”

“Yeah, well, try keep the backwash to a minimum and we’ll be good,” Dex says as he takes the bottle from Derek’s hands. “Really? Sparkling apple cider?”

“Well, the last time something happened between us we were both drunk… so, I figured… maybe we could just have a first date without any of that. See where it goes. Also, I really don’t want to get busted for underaged drinking in public, so…”

Dex kisses him then.

It’s just a soft little thing. A closed press of lips that somehow leaves Derek’s entire body zinging.

It’s kind of everything, and Derek can’t help but watch with a smile on his face as Dex focuses on opening the bottle, cheeks ruddy and gorgeous, and god. Derek is gone on this kid.

“Alright,” Dex says, eyes scanning over the pond, as if to draw attention away from the way he’s blushing so prettily. He nods off towards the water before taking a sip from the bottle and handing it over. “Tell me more about your duck family.”

“Well, that white dude with the red face over there is Chuck the Duck. He’s pretty fucking rad.” Pausing to take a long pull of cider, Derek takes a moment to just… bask. “The smaller duck next to him with the black and white splotches? I figure that’s his wife.”

“What’s her name?”

“I’ve just been calling her ‘Mrs. Chuck the Duck’,” Derek says before taking a bite from his sandwich.

“Nurse… you can’t just call her ‘Mrs. Chuck the Duck’ - she’s a duck on her own merit, and you shouldn’t be defining her by her husband.”

“Bro, you sound just like Shitty.”

Dex snorts at that before digging into his lunch. They don’t talk much for awhile after that, and it doesn’t feel awkward at all. It’s just nice. The whole thing is nice. From Dex leaning against him, a warm weight, to the way that the share the cider so easily, each sip like a secret kiss. It’s only when Derek goes to pull out the mini pies that Bitty had helped him make that Dex speaks up.

“So, I’ve been thinking…” he pauses for a moment, and it’s only when Derek turns to face him that he continues. “If we’re going to try this dating thing? Maybe… maybe we could just call each other by our first names? Instead of, like… hockey nicknames, or bro.”

He sounds so unsure, and it’s kind of charming in an all-encompassing, life-changing way. Derek is charmed, because there’s something nice about the idea of skipping over the nicknames. Carefully, he slides his hand over until he can tangle his fingers with Dex’s - no, with Will’s fingers… and everything about this moment is what Derek wants.

“Yeah, Will… I’d like that.”

That earns him another kiss, just as light and sweet and perfect as the last, and Derek can’t stop himself from chasing after Will’s lips for another. Their lips linger together, and it’s only a furious quacking from the side that makes Derek pull away.

“Please… please, Derek… tell me you haven’t been feeding the ducks.”

Will’s voice sounds plaintive, but when Derek looks over, there’s a smile on his face that he can’t resist matching. Chuck quacks again from where he’s waiting at the edge of the blanket, his lady waiting patiently on her nest.

Digging back into the basket, Derek doesn’t answer until he’s got the bags of thawed peas and rice.

“Well, I figured,” he starts before tossing one of the bags over to Will, “that feeding the ducks would make our first date really memorable.”

Slow and steady, he shows Will how to feed the ducks without startling them, inching close enough to feed Mrs. Chuck without making her uncomfortable.

“She looks like a Gloria to me,” Will says, low and soft so as not to startle her, and really… he could say that she looks like Fran Drescher and Derek would let him have it.

In a blink of an eye, they go from feeding two ducks to twenty, but it’s only when Derek sees the geese swimming over from the other side of the pond that the date comes to an end. Quickly, he dumps his bag and motions for Will to do the same before scooping the blankets up in his arms.

“Quick! Grab everything you can and run.”

“What are-”

“Don’t question me, Will! The geese are coming, and they will destroy us before we can even think about a second date.”

Risking a glance over his shoulder, Derek can see them swimming ever closer. The first goose steps onto land, and that’s when Derek runs - one arm wrapped around the blankets, the other hand holding fast to Will.

They run all the way back to the dorms, laughing and panting for air, lungs and legs burning from the exercise, but they don’t let go of each other for even a moment.

Not even when Derek drops everything he was holding with a dramatic groan.

Not even when Will, far more carefully, puts the basket down on the ground.

They don’t let go until Derek’s RA walks by, wolf-whistling like an asshole, and even then it’s a battle. It’s a fucking struggle to back away from Will, with his kiss-swollen lips and his eyes lit up like he’s exactly where he wants to be. He looks happy.

The feeling, Derek thinks before leaning in for one last kiss, is mutual.

Chapter Text

It’s a month before they announce their relationship status to the team, and for the most part, Derek feels good about it. It’s nice to have the team’s support, even with the knowing smirks that Bitty and Lardo throw each other from opposite sides of the room, as if no one will notice. Chowder’s fistbumping everyone under the sun in celebration, and Tango manages to keep his questions to a minimum ,and it’s good. Or, it is until Ransom and Holster decide that the only way to celebrate the ‘reignition’ of their relationship is via kegster… not that they need an excuse to throw one, but Derek’s not about to argue with his captains over whether or not to throw a party on their behalf.

And, like… it shouldn’t be something he would even want to argue over, but there are times when he’s standing up in Will’s space - times when Will smiles at him like it’s the easiest thing in the world - where Derek will remember the fucking powerpoint they made them sit through and the way that they had blamed Will for something they knew nothing about. And, like, so much of Derek knows that it was his fault - but it doesn’t stop his hackles from rising every time Rans or Holster make an assumption about their relationship.

It’s Will that grounds him, though. Because Derek’s chill is nonexistent when it comes to their relationship, and he’s had to swallow enough harsh words to fill a book, but then Will’s hand finds his, and everything settles.

It doesn’t make him feel much better about the kegster, though. Not with their history with alcohol, and not with their history at kegsters. From the way they hooked up to begin with, to the way Derek would watch from the sidelines after they fell apart… it just doesn’t feel great to be going back into that headspace.

He mulls over it for most of the week, pulls back from the haus and anything that isn’t mandatory with the team, but he only makes it to Thursday before Will seeks him out.

“What’s wrong?” It’s a blunt question that isn’t softened by the way that Will’s looking at him - with those damn soft eyes, like he matters. “You’ve been off ever since Ransom announced the kegster.”

“I just - it’s stupid, babe. Like, I think about all the time that I wasted because I was an asshole, and I think about the way you had to deal with everything yourself… the fucking powerpoint, and your mom finding out…”

The words dry up in his throat, and for a minute it feels like he’s going to cry, and it’s fucking embarrassing. He scrubs his fists against his eyes, as if that will keep the tears from falling, but then there are hands on his wrists pulling his hands down, and Will is in front of him… and Derek can’t look away.

“Derek… that was on both of us. It wasn’t just you, okay?” There’s a pause, as if he’s waiting for Derek to agree, but when that doesn’t come Will sighs instead. “Look. We’re assholes on a good day, and morons on our worst days, but we’re in this together. And, look… our captains are idiots, but we didn’t exactly fill in the blanks, right?”

At that, Derek has to nod. Will doesn’t stop, though. His thumbs stroke out a steady rhythm on Derek’s wrists, slow and steady like he’s got all the time in the world for this.

“I know that we don’t have the best history, but I’ve been kind of looking forward to dancing with my boyfriend at the kegster.”

Will’s hands slide up from Derek’s wrists, gliding over skin until they curve over his shoulders, and Derek’s can’t stop the shiver from traveling down his spine. This… this is new. Like, they’ve had sex, and they were good at it, but this time around - dating - they’ve been taking it slow. And, Derek’s been chill with it. Ecstatic actually - being able to hold Will’s hands and kiss him in public? It’s so good. But, like, lately Will’s been touching him with intent, and it’s left Derek feeling stripped bare over the most innocent of touches.

Like now, for instance. Will’s got his hands on his shoulders, and his thumbs are stroking circles into his skin, and it feels like sex.

“So, what do you say, Nurse? You gonna dance with me tomorrow night?”

Derek nods, and he’s rewarded with a kiss - hot, and wet, and filled with promise. He sinks into the feeling, lets it wash over him as Will deepens the kiss, all lips and teeth and tongue, and it’s everything. Derek would give him anything, would do anything to keep this feeling forever.

Because when Will pulls away, his eyes are soft, and his lips are pink, and Derek’s like, 90% sure he’s in love. Because he looks at those lips, and those eyes, and that face, and he sees a future outside of a bedroom.

He sees endless possibilities.

The music’s thumping, loud and deep, the kind of rhythm you feel vibrate through you, and it’s good. It’s great. Will’s on Nursey patrol tonight, but it’s more of a ceremonial title than anything else - they’re sober tonight, and it’s probably the first time that Derek’s been to a kegster without getting wasted… without wanting to get wasted.

Without the haze of alcohol in his system, it’s a different experience. There’s more shoving, and people are sweatier than he remembers… but it’s also pretty fucking fun. Chowder’s grinding up on Farmer like he’s working for the money, and Bitty is fucking working the floor, and Whiskey’s talking up some dude that looks suspiciously like a LAX bro. He’d go lecture the kid on the importance of maintaining the well-maintained lines between the teams, but then there’s a hand on his shoulder and Will’s in front of him with a bottle of water for them to share.

Just like that, everything else kind of fades into the background. Like, Whiskey will figure that shit out. He’s a big boy, and honestly, Whiskey who?

Will moves to wrap his hand around the back of Derek’s neck, pulling him close enough to speak straight into his ear, close enough where his voice doesn’t compete with the pulsing of the base.

“Did I miss anything?”

Shaking his head, Derek takes the water bottle from his hands to take a long sip. It’s cool, refreshing in a way that Derek didn’t realize he needed, but all thoughts of relief drain from his head when Will leans close again, lips grazing the shell of his ear this time.

“Dance with me?”

He pulls away, and everything about him - from the way that he’s standing to the tilt of his lips - all of it screams sex. He’s so fucking hot, and Derek can’t deny him anything. Wouldn’t want to.

Will takes the water bottle back, head tilted back as he takes one last drink before tossing it at a nearby trashcan, and Jesus Fucking Christ, Derek doesn’t care if he made the shot. All he cares about is the way that Will looks at him as they crowd together, and the way it feels to put his arms around Will’s neck. It feels right. Deep in his bones, every inch of Derek knows that this is right, and he leans forward to say as much to Will.

“I love you,” he says, and god fucking damnit, he is the least classy person in the world. Part of him wants to take it back, wants to save it for a better time - for a less crowded moment, but then Will’s hands are digging into his hips and pulling him closer, and it’s so much.

“Say it again.”

Will sounds gone, like he’s three sheets to the wind, but Derek knows they’ve only had water. He knows that Will’s just as sober as he is… just like he knows from the way Will’s looking at him that this isn’t the time to take it back. Leaning ever closer into Will’s space, he presses a kiss to his ear before giving him what he wants (because he can’t deny him anything).

“I love you, Will. I love you so fucking much.”

It’s like a weight’s been taken off his chest - like he can breathe again - he didn’t even realize he was so heavy until now, but god.

“I love you too,” Will says, warm and trembly, and if Derek felt lighter before, he’s ready to fly now. He’d say as much, but then Will’s mouth finds his, and he finds a better way to get his point across.

Careful, even though he knows Will can take a bit of rough, he brings his hands from where they’ve been linked behind Will’s neck, and he uses them to cup Will’s face. Uses them to tilt Will’s mouth just where he wants it, to make it easier to sip the sweetness from his lips. And god, it blows his mind that he gets this now. It’s so much better than the frantic hookups they had before. It’s languid, even with the press of people dancing around them - even with the music blasting through their bodies - and it’s exactly what he needed. Will is exactly what he needed.

Hips swaying out of time with the dubstep crap that Lardo likes so much (apparently it makes it easier for her to wipe the floor with people at beer pong - go figure), Derek allows himself to have this moment - with his boyfriend. His hot boyfriend. His hot boyfriend that’s grinding against him, hot and slow and perfect, and Derek’s not going to get out of this alive.

He whispers as much into Will’s ear, which earns him a peal of laughter that fucking lights up the room. From under his lashes, Will looks at him with what can only be described as bedroom eyes (and what the fuck, who even thinks that outside of novels?), fingers still at Derek’s hips.

He doesn’t say anything so much as he pulls away, tilting his chin towards the door as his fingers tangle in Derek’s belt loops, pulling him out of the room… as if he’d want to be anywhere but where Will is.

He follows gladly when Will drags him out of the Haus.

He’s giddy with it when Will pushes him against trees and buildings and lamp posts on the walk back to their dorms.

He’s fucking drunk on Will’s lips by the time they get back to Will’s room, giggling and gasping and so fucking in love.

It takes Will a solid minute of swiping his card before the lock mechanism recognizes it, but then the door swings open and they are tumbling in. And, look - Derek’s clumsy on a good day, but Will’s hands are everywhere and his mouth is hot against Derek’s skin, and Derek cannot be blamed for the way that he topples over to the floor.

He just will not take responsibility, no matter how cute Will looks when he’s judging him (and when the hell did it become adorable when Will judged him?).

“Come on, Nurse,” he says, voice rough after speaking so loud at the party. Starting at his throat, he slowly unbuttons his shirt, fingers deft and focused even as his eyes are locked with Derek’s. “Are you gonna get undressed, or are you just gonna watch?”

And that… yeah. It kind of fries Derek’s brain, because neither of those options sound bad.

“Babe, neither of those options sound bad.”

Will laughs, bright and clear, and he’s everything, even as he uses the toe of his shoe to nudge at Derek’s side.

“Take off your clothes, Derek.”

That little shiver from before is back, and Derek closes his eyes for a moment to better appreciate the way that it runs up and down his spine. His body feels electric under Will’s eyes - under his instruction, his attention. It’s been months since they’ve fucked around, and Derek can still remember how good he had felt pressed against Will, but this - fuck...

Hands moving on autopilot, he pulls his shirt over his head without bothering to get up from the floor. It’s only when his fingers move down to pop the button on his jeans that he opens his eyes, and God. Will is all pale, freckled skin over firm muscle, and the light that filters through the blinds makes him ethereal. It makes him a god. An Adonis.

It’s like Will’s moving at double time, because for every piece of clothing Derek takes off, Will’s wearing less. By the time they’re both naked, Will’s got an eyebrow raised in disbelief, as if it’s incomprehensible that Derek would be slow with this. As if he couldn’t wait himself… and that alone makes Derek feel alive with nerves.

He’s still on the floor when Will steps closer - close enough to lean down and offer his hand - and Derek can’t deny him (won’t deny him). Using him as leverage, Derek hauls himself up, stumbling into warm, soft skin, and he’s done.

He’s done with slow.

Hands roaming, he sets his mouth to the join of Will’s neck and shoulder, and he sucks with the intention to mark. To show Will, in the most physical of ways, that he’s in this - that Will is his. Will’s hands move in tandem with his, starting at his shoulders, digging into the curves of his muscles with his nails before moving on, and it's good. It's fitting, because Will’s not the only one that’s going to be marked tonight. Those nails scratch down his back, pausing at the small of his back to pull him closer - close enough for their cocks to brush together, and it’s gorgeous - before reaching lower to grab his ass.

It’s good. It’s everything, and even as he’s sucking bruises into Will’s skin he’s got to bring his hands back up to dig his fingers into Will’s hair, just to keep grounded. To keep still. To let Will set the pace, grinding their bodies together at a leisurely pace as his fingers knead his ass, massaging and teasing, moving closer and closer to where Derek wants him most.

The first time Will brushes a finger against his hole, Derek has to pull his mouth back to keep from breaking the tender skin behind Will’s ear. His whole body rocks back against Will’s fingers, and it’s not an accident when those clever fingers come back to tease. It’s all short, soft brushes, and it’s got Derek fucking panting, because it’s a lot. It’s so much, but then Will’s pressing a fingertip in - not enough to breach him, but it’s so fucking hot to feel that pressure - to feel how well Will knows his body, even after all this time.

“You should fuck me,” he says, louder than he had intended, but it’s so fucking quiet between them that anything would be loud. Will’s eyes are blown, mouth loose and open, as if he’s shocked at this development… and that’s got Derek backtracking fast. “I mean, if you want to. We don’t have to. I’m good with whatever you want to do, babe, and I-”

Thank God, that’s when Will’s mouth covers his own, and they’re kissing again, frantic and wet, and it feels vital.

“Oh my God, Derek,” Will breathes against his lips when they finally manage to pull apart, “you’re killing me. I want that so bad - want you so bad.”

“Condoms and lube?”

Will nods at that before turning towards his dresser. It’s kind of a comfort when he pulls open the top drawer - and Derek knows that it doesn’t make much sense to be relieved that Will still keeps his supplies in the same place, but it’s been so fucking long… it’s kind of nice that not everything has changed.

By the time that Will turns around with a condom and the lube, Derek’s managed to pull himself onto the bed (which, seriously, it’s still uncomfortable as fuck - after this he’s going to have to have a long, serious conversation with Will about the importance of mattress pads). Sprawled out on his side, it’s easier for him to appreciate the way that Will looks at him… like he’s desirable… like he loves him… and it’s fucking overwhelming.

If he manages to get through this without crying it will be a miracle. Fuck.

The idea of crying during sex kind of makes him want to die.It must show on his face, because all of a sudden Will’s in front of him with his worried face on, and it’s kind of a lot.

“Derek, what’s wrong?”

He sounds so fucking worried, and it just… kind of makes Derek laugh? Oh, God, his nerves are the fucking worst.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. It’s nothing, I don’t know - I just... “ Will doesn’t look any less worried, and this is going all wrong. “I just have a lot of feelings?”

It’s not supposed to be a question, but it comes out like one, and if this was anyone else they’d probably be running for the hills right about now… but Will just nods at him like it all makes sense.

“Do you want to stop for a minute?”

“Not really… I just - look, I’m still kind of blown away that you love me too, so, like, don’t judge me too much if I’m a weepy lay?”

Will takes a moment to just look at him, and Derek can’t remember a time that he felt more exposed… but then Will’s crawling onto the mattress with him, setting the condom up by his hip before leaning in to kiss the inside of Derek’s knee.

“I’m kind of in love with you, Nurse,” he says before running his hands along Derek’s thighs. “I’m still going to think you’re pretty, even if you’re a bit of a mess.”

It’s a weak chirp, but Derek still goes to slap at his shoulder for it - except, somewhere between winding back and contact he loses all momentum, and he ends up just… touching Will. And maybe it’s a little weird, but Will smiles at him - it’s a small smile, secret and happy and just for him - before leaning down to press a kiss to the palm of Derek’s hand.

“If you cry, I’m gonna to cry, and then I’m gonna be a mess. I get all red and blotchy, and we’ll need tissues, and it’s going to be a lot. But I’m willing to take that risk if you are.”

“Yeah, babe. I’m in.”

There’s more to it than that. Like, there’s a great fucking speech in his head, all about love and friendship and the miracle that is their relationship, but all of it gets chucked out of his brain when Will leans down to lick a stripe up Derek’s cock. And it’s a lot.

That feeling - that overwhelming feeling - it doesn’t lessen when Will presses a lube-slick finger into him, one knuckle at a time. It’s so fucking much, but then Will’s tongue flicks just so, and his other hand brushes over every inch of skin it can reach, and the burn of the stretch fades into something manageable. It lets him take another finger. Lets him beg for a third.

And it’s good.

There’s pressure everywhere, and he’s not as hard as he was before, but it’s good, because he missed this. And, like, it’s complicated, because Derek would rather have their relationship where it is now without sex than go back to what they had before, but now, with Dex opening him up with his fingers, Derek can’t remember how he managed to survive so long without this.

He’s always thought Dex had great hands.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me, Poindexter,” he chirps, sounding breathless and fucked out already, and it’s clear from the way Will lets it slide that they’re both too far gone for higher level flirting. Instead of chirping back, Will uses his brain power to slowly pull his fingers out from where he’d been working Derek open, and again, it’s so much.

Derek can hear the crinkle of the condom package as Will works it open, and he can hear Will curse quietly under his breath as he get the condom on, but he’s already too far gone to lift his head up high enough to watch. The bed shifts as Will moves closer, and Derek knows that this is going to wreck him in the best of ways.

There are hands on his thighs, spreading them gently as Will comes even closer - and then Will’s pressing in. It’s not the first time that Derek’s bottomed, but it’s been over a year since they last did this, and it’s a lot. It’s dull pain meeting sharp ache, and it’s a fullness that he hasn’t been able to replicate since the last time they had fucked around, and it’s an overwhelming, overflowing lightness in his heart that makes everything so much more real.

Will’s slow at first. Careful in his movements, contained and gentle and precious. He gives Derek the time he needs to adjust, and even then, the way that he rocks into him is tender. It’s probably the closest that Derek’s ever come to ‘making love’, but it’s not exactly something he wants to discuss with Will when he’s balls deep in him.

The pace picks up, and Derek decides that it’s definitely a topic for another time.

It just… it’s so good, and he feels so full, and then Will’s wrapping those long fingers around his cock, and it’s too much. It’s too fucking good, and he’s almost there, but - God - he doesn’t want to come too soon. He doesn’t want to ruin this.

Fingers clenched in the sheets, Derek does his best to ride out the sensations, and he’s doing okay until Will leans closer. The angle shifts, and it’s like sparks just fucking light up behind his eyelids, and Will’s fucking whispering to him.

“C’mon, baby. C’mon, c’mon - I want you to cum for me, c’mon, Derek.”

Will’s a mumbling mess, and it shouldn’t be that hot, but he says Derek’s name like it’s a prayer and that’s it. Game fucking over. He just falls over the edge until he’s coming hard over Will’s hand and his stomach.

From there, it all kind of slows down. Will pulls out and throws away the condom, and Derek doesn’t remember him coming, but the condom is clearly full, and he can’t help but think it’s kind of a shame that he missed it. Derek almost drifts off to the thought of next time, but then Will’s swiping at his stomach with a tissue and pulling him out of bed.

“C’mon, Derek. We need to get you cleaned up, and then we can go to bed.” Derek’s halfway through a pleading whine when Will cuts him off with a sharp look. “Don’t even play, I know that you’re tired, but I also know that you hate waking up after if you haven’t cleaned up first.”

“I know,” he says, even as he pouts, which earns him a kiss on the cheek from Will.

It doesn’t take long to throw towels around their waists, and then they’re shuffling into the bathroom to get ready for bed - cleanup takes longer than it used to with the way that Will insists on touching him - the word that Derek settles on is limpet, and even though he could be annoyed, he finds that he’s actually kind of charmed to find out that Will is super tactile after sex when he’s given the opportunity.

With Will’s wrist gently in hand, Derek leads him back to the room, where they change into Will’s pajamas. They pull Will’s comforter over the wet spot in the middle of the mattress, and it will be kind of gross in the morning, but right now the objective is sleep. If they take a shortcut to get to that point? It’s a forgivable sin.

Finally, Derek climbs onto the bed, and even as he’s half-asleep, he can’t keep the smile off his face when Will climbs in behind him. Spooned close enough so that they both fit on the tall twin, Derek can feel every inch of Will’s body pressed behind him, and it’s perfect.

“I love you,” he mumbles into the pillow as he fades towards sleep.

He knows it’s not a dream when Will replies in kind, words pressed to the back of his neck, and Derek falls asleep with the weight of Will’s love pressed to his back.

It feels like home.

Chapter Text

Light filters soft against his face, waking him up by increments that are slow, and steady, and very, very warm. It’s a tender way to wake up. Like coming home. Like being bathed in pure happiness.

And, like, it’s not the first time that Derek has woken up in Will’s bed, but everything about this time is different. This time there’s no hangover threatening to bring him to his knees, and this time there’s a pillow soft beneath his head.

This time he’s incandescently happy.

Careful, he stretches out, limbs aching in the most delicious of ways… and, like, Will’s not pressed tight against him like he was the night before, but there’s an insistent and steady stream of clicking from somewhere to the right of the bed that sounds a lot like someone typing. With a sigh, Derek forces himself to roll over, and it’s good.

Hell, the whole morning is good, because Will is sitting at his desk, soft morning light streaming through the window, making him look soft and radiant, even as he’s obviously focused on the screen before him.

He’s achingly beautiful, and Derek would be happy to watch him forever.

Like, he’s typing away, so quick, and Derek loves those fingers.

He loves the little crinkles around Will’s eyes when he smiles at the screen like he made something good, and he’s so fucking gone over this kid.

“You gonna stay in bed all day, Nurse?”

It’s not even fair the way that Will can chirp him without tearing his eyes from the screen. It’s even less fucking fair how all Derek can do is smile in response, burying his face into the pillow to hide the betrayal of his lips and his heart and his love. Because he should come up with a proper chirp. He should give Will back what he dished out - hotter and faster and better and stronger - but all he can do is breathe in the scent of the two of them and fucking smile.

Maybe the worst thing is that Will lets him ride the feeling out. Derek waits to be chirped to pieces. He waits to be teased and prodded and, you know, he kind of loves that about their relationship. For all the softness that they’ve added to the mix, they’re just as sharp as they’ve ever been - but Will just hums to himself when Derek fails to respond, and he types away.

And, that’s it.

Will keeps typing, and Derek keeps grinning into the pillow, and it’s such a ridiculously lame and sappy way to start the day, but there’s a big part of Derek that would be happy to stay like this. In this moment. In his boyfriend’s bed. In his boyfriend’s clothes.

In his boyfriend’s heart.

He’d be so fucking happy to just have the moment for awhile longer, but then there’s the familiar ding of his phone - from fucking halfway across the room (fuck) - and Derek’s pretty much ready to let it be.

Until his phone chimes again.

And again.

To his credit, Will doesn’t bitch about the shrill dinging and ringing that his phone’s letting out, but Derek knows him, and he knows that this halcyon moment won’t last much longer if he doesn’t put his ringer on silent.

So he does the obvious thing. And he falls out of the fucking bed. Which, to be fair, probably would have been smoother if his entire body wasn’t still feeling last night’s activities (and God, he’s not complaining, it’s his favorite kind of ache). But, like, his body is still feeling it, so it’s a glorious series of aches that lights up as his body fucking slams into Will’s carpet.

And Will still doesn’t say a fucking thing.

Instead of questioning his boyfriend’s apparent bout of deafness, Derek army crawls to where he had flung his pants and manages to extract his phone from his pocket without causing himself further bodily harm. And it’s an epic victory. It’s legit, and he’s proud for all of five seconds before the notifications on his screen register with his still-groggy mind.

“Will… babe, why does it look like the entire Poindexter clan decided to friend me on Facebook?”

There’s a guilty beat, but then Will’s turning towards him with an indecipherable look on his face.

“So, maybe you might want to sit down?” Will asks, like that isn’t the start to the most dreaded sentence known to relationships all over the world. “I did something, and I think we need to talk.”

He did it. He said the fucking thing, and… like, the morning was so good. It was so good. It was the best, and now they need to talk, and Derek was not prepared for this - he’ll never be prepared for this. And Will is just looking at him, and he doesn’t look angry or sorry or sad, but he looks nervous and small and drawn into himself, and it was too good a morning for any of that.

He hates seeing Will look small.

Hates it.

So he does the only thing he can. He takes a deep breath, and he commits to being contrary.

“Yeah, no. I’m probably not going to take a seat. Thanks, though. I mean, did you seriously just say that to me after last night?” He pauses for a moment, gives Will the chance to speak his piece, but all Will does is widen his eyes, and it’s not okay. “You can’t just do that, Will. Like, I love you. I’m in love with you, and last night was so much of what I’ve been wanting - so much of what I thought we could never have - so, no, I’m not going to sit down. And you’re going to take a minute - and look, I am going to give you that minute - and you’re going to figure out a better way to open a conversation with me than telling me that ‘we need to talk’. Because I’m not doing that. Not after this.”

He’s gesturing between them now, hands moving like frantic birds - fluttering and going nowhere in their haste - but it’s not enough to get the energy out of his body...

Because last night was amazing…

Because they are in love…

Because Derek’s not prepared to lose this with Will. Not anymore. Not after everything that th-

“I came out to the rest of my family this morning,” Will says, hushed and calm like Derek’s not losing his mind in front of him. “The ones that matter, anyway. I told them that I met someone that made me happy, and that I’m in love, and that my boyfriend is ridiculous and amazing and dumb… and I told them that I was tired of keeping you a secret, because I’m really proud to be with you?”

Will’s words trail off, and Derek just…

“I thought you were going to break up with me.”

The words come out broken and soft and he’s the fucking worst, because Will just did this huge, life changing thing, and Derek’s on the verge of fucking tears. And it’s so selfish, because this is about Will.

The tears come anyway, but he does the best to power through, sniffling and wiping at his face like it will help.

“Seriously, when did you even do this? It’s like… ten in the morning, and I’ve been here the entire time, Poindexter.”

“I couldn’t sleep, and I just - look, Derek - I was lying in bed with you, and you were snoring, and when I say you were snoring, I don’t mean those cute little snuffles that Bitty lets out. You were fuckin’ shaking the bed with your snoring, and I was just happy to have the privilege of being there with you.”

It’s a chirp - a rude fucking chirp about his snoring, like he can even help the fact - but Derek can’t find it in himself to chirp back.

“Being with you,” Will continues, standing up from his desk and taking the three steps necessary to stand in front of Derek, and it’s like something out of a romcom. “It’s a fuckin’ privilege, and I love you, and I feel good about being with you - about who I am here at Samwell - and who I can be… and I don’t want to lose that when I go home.

“So I asked my mom to put me on speakerphone while they were having breakfast, and I went for a walk around the quad, and I just told them, and I still can’t really believe… I mean, they were okay? I mean, my dad didn’t say much, but everyone else… they wanted to know who you were, and they wanted to know what you were like, and they want you to visit for the Summer? I mean… I can’t- I can’t believe it.”

There are tears in Will’s eyes, but he looks relaxed. He looks happy in a way that Derek’s only seen glimpses of, and he’s incredible. He’s everything.

“Do you want me to visit for the Summer, Poindexter?”

A smile pulls across Will’s face as he steps impossibly closer - until they’re chest to chest and toe to toe - until he can tangle their fingers together… until he can press a sweet kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth.

“Derek Nurse, I don’t want you to leave my side at all.”

And that… that’s somehow the most ridiculous, unrealistic, romantic thing that Derek’s ever heard. It’s everything, and even though Derek should know better - they should both know better - he leans in to press a kiss to Will’s lips with a lightness in his heart that he’s never known.

Because even though they’re young, and even though they should know better than to promise forevers and futures and hearts and family, he can’t help but think that they can make it work.

Because… it doesn’t feel ridiculous, or unrealistic, or impossible at all.

It just feels inevitable.

It feels like a promise worth keeping.

Chapter Text

It takes approximately three weeks, two days, and fifteen hours before the reality of the situation sets in. And, like… it’s too early for this level of freakout. Will is curled against his side, breathing deeply, face smooth and soft in the way it only gets when he’s sleeping, and it’s 1:38 in the morning, and Derek is officially losing his chill.

It’s just… his chill has been tossed out the fucking window, because, like, he’s got his last final in two days, and then Lardo’s got her senior art show on Friday, and after that it’s just one thing after another - they’re gonna have the last kegster, and they’re gonna celebrate at Faber, and then graduation (and holy fuck, how are they going to survive without Lardo and Ransom and Holster - hoooooly fuck), and then they’re packing up everything and heading out on the road, and then he’s meeting Will’s entire fucking family.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Like… realistically, he knows that he shouldn’t be freaking out about this, but everything is changing and holy shit! Like, Will has a ginormous family.

Ever since Will came out to his immediate family, Derek’s been inundated with friend requests from brothers and sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles and even his fucking grandma? Like, Derek’s grandparents passed before he got a chance to meet them, so it’s kind of a foreign idea? And, like, it’s just him and his parents for the most part - they only talk to his aunts at the big holidays - so it’s a little scary because this is so much bigger than loving Will and being with Will and wanting forever with Will.

This is the whole package.

This overly-friendly brood of gingers and blondes that poke him on Facebook and post vaguely inappropriate comments on his page… they come with loving Will.

And for the first time in his life, Derek has to measure up.

There’s no grasping at chill in this situation, and there’s no pretending that it’s okay if people don’t like him, and there’s no brushing it off when things don’t go his way.

Will has, like, fifty people just in his immediate family, and Derek can’t fuck this up.

Beside him, Will mumbles under his breath before nuzzling closer.

And Derek tries not to panic.

Okay, so, he panics, but it’s a quiet panic.

It’s an all-encompassing type of panic - the kind that lingers under your skin and stretches taught until you get used to all that pressure - the kind that is electric until it’s not… until you get numbed to the feel.

He brushes Will’s concerns off as having to do with finals and stress, but then he’s walking out of his Multi-Ethnic & Diasporic Literature final to find Will waiting for him with a smile and a to-go cup from Annie’s.

Pressing a grateful kiss to Will’s cheek (because he is grateful, even if he’s actively in a panic spiral over meeting and impressing the Poindexters and Poindexter-adjacents), Derek does his best to settle the way his stomach swoops over the lingering fear that Will’s family won’t like him - that Will won’t want to be with him if they don’t approve - that this moment right here, with Will being the best, and with casual displays of affection and support… that it might be fleeting.

He squashes the feeling down and he takes a sip of his tea and he takes Will’s hand in his.

And Derek resolves to make the Poindexters love him.

Because he doesn’t have a fucking choice.

His chill was gone long before this moment, but then Will’s opening his door and turning to make sure it locks behind him, and Derek is dead.

He needs mouth-to-mouth or something, because Derek is dead and Will looks like sex. He looks fucking edible, and suddenly nothing is more important that Derek getting his mouth on every inch of Will’s body.

Chill? Forgotten.

Poindexter anxiety? Whaaaaaatever.

Lardo’s show? They can be late.

Like, he just looks so fucking good. He looks sharp, and not for the first time, Derek finds himself praying to a higher power (aka Bitty), because… like… Bitty’s idea to have Will bring his suit to a tailor? It’s possibly better than world peace? Because world peace is a concept, and everything about the way that Will’s slacks skim over his thighs and hug his ass… it’s a reality. The most beautiful reality the world has ever known.

It’s so tempting to just… guide Will back into his room. To worship those pants and the skin that’s hidden beneath them. To spend hours showing Will just how much Derek appreciates him - how much he wants him.

But the door clicks shut, and even though Will’s got a knowing smirk on his face, he still dips his head towards the stairwell.

“C’mon, babe. We’ll never hear the end of it if we’re late.”

And, like... Derek knows that he’s right. If he swings this whole ‘meet the family’ thing, he’ll have the rest of his life to show Will how much he appreciates his assets. Tonight, though? Tonight’s about Lardo.

Taking Will’s hand in his, Derek lets himself be lead out of the building and across campus. It’s a quick walk to the Koetter Center, but it’s a gorgeous afternoon, he’s got his boyfriend’s hand in his, and it doesn’t have to be a long walk for it to be a good walk.

And it’s great.

It’s the best. And then they’re mingling in front of Lardo’s exhibit, and they’re being bumped and pushed and brushed against, but it’s good. It’s a good day, because Lardo is glowing, and Shitty made it down for the show, and Ransom and Holster are chatting up one of their professors in the corner, and Chowder’s whispering sweet nothings into Farmer’s ears, and Bitty is texting (and from the way he’s blushing at his phone, it’s probably Jack… which is a good thing in itself… it’s the best thing), and Will is pressed against him… and for the first time in a long while, Derek feels grounded.

Even as everything is swirling and changing and looming over him, this is his family. And maybe that’s eno-

Out of nowhere, there’s an elbow in the small of his back, and Derek’s toppling forward, and he’s gonna eat floor. Which. Yeah, it wouldn’t be the first time, but then there’s strong, firm hands holding him back by the belt-loops, and Will is cursing out a quickly retreating stranger, and Derek is saved.

“Fuckin’ townies, I swear to god. Motherfucker didn’t even stop to apologize.”

“Chill, Will,” Derek breathes out, only smirking a little at the rhyme of it all as he rests his palm over the warmth of Will’s chest, “you saved me.”

He’s shoved again, a little thing as an undergrad struggles to take a selfie in front of one of Lardo’s pieces, but it doesn’t deter him from laying on the charm thick as he makes eyes at Will from beneath his eyelashes.

“How am I ever gonna repay you?”

Predatory, he watches the way that Will’s adam's apple bobs when he swallows. He catalogues the way that Will’s eyes go dark. Careful, he inches closer as his hand (already pressed so tight to the heat of firm muscle beneath freshly starched cotton) brushes lower. And this is good. He can have this now - this casual affirmation of lust and love and care. Will sways closer, as easy as can be, and there’s a promise there in his eyes.

“FOOOIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNEEEEE!!!!!!”

And just like that, Rans and Holster are pulling them apart, and the moment is gone.

“Awww, c’mon, we weren’t even doing anything.” Will protests, but from the way his cheeks are flushed prettily, and the way he’s refusing to make eye contact with anyone, it’s pretty obvious that his heart isn’t completely behind his defense.

“Bro,” Holster says, mellow and sweet even as he’s actively hauling Derek away from Will - and fuck is it a weird feeling to be manhandled. “There was intent, and by the revised bylaws of our fine institution, any intent that takes away from our main bro Lardo’s art show is finable.”

Chowder, who had migrated over at some point in between Derek’s near brush with death and the epic cockblock he was currently suffering, nodded along as if pained.

“Yeah!! I was just telling Farmer how cute she looked tonight and I got hit with a double fine!”

“You know what you did, Chowder. You know, and we know.”

Chowder goes bright red at Ransom’s declaration, nodding sullenly as their captains turn to check out the refreshments.

“How do they always know?!”

And that… Chowder’s huffy whispered indignance and the pout on his face? Derek can’t stop himself from laughing. He just can’t.

“Chowder… for real? Your face says everything, all the time. Like, I’m pretty sure that if you went full Little Mermaid on us, your lack of a voice wouldn’t be a problem at all.”

“Chyea,” Will says, body warm and solid where he’s pressed close to Derek’s side. “I think Farmer likes that about you, though.”

As far as pep talks go, it’s probably not their greatest effort, but that’s the thing about Chowder. He’s just a genuinely kind, happy person, and he doesn’t need the amount of legwork that Derek does to find his joy. Like now, for instance... Will literally just stated a fact, but Chowder’s eating it up like he’s reciting sonnets - like he said something vital - and just like that Chowder’s smiling from ear to ear and bouncing off to find his lady.

It’s kind of unreal.

Not, like, in a bad way or anything… it’s just unreal.

Warm fingers sliding to circle around his wrist have his attention moving from Chowder back to Will. And, again… if someone had told him last year that they’d have this - soft touches and quiet moments - he wouldn’t have believed it… he would have thought it unreal in a completely different way.

They were too raw and too careless then, and it wouldn’t have worked, and it would have imploded worse than it did.

Will’s fingers though… right here and now? They’re the realest thing. They’re strong and warm and talented, and they’re Derek’s. As much as he can have any part of another person, they are his. And that- that lends weight and meaning to everything.

Because as much as Will is his, there’s still so much that Derek has to prove before he can really be Will’s - to ingratiate himself into Will’s heart as completely and deeply as Will’s taken root in his. And, like, everything that he’s done has been in an attempt to be better... to be good enough for Will… for his family… and to be good enough for himself.

But… yeah. It’s a good night.

Lardo’s in her element and Derek’s surrounded by his team.

Will’s hand is in his… and Derek just wants to be better.

He needs to be better.

He feels like death.

No. Scratch that.

He feels like death if death came back as a zombie before dying again in a puddle of his own decomposed muck (and if he thinks about Shitty at that point, it’s totally Will’s fault).

And, like, it was such a bad idea to drink last night. It wasn’t in the plans, but then Will was passing him a shot, and Whiskey was dancing on the table… which seemed like an excellent idea at the time.

There were body shots and clothes were lost (specifically his shirt and his left shoe - what in the fuck) and there was definitely a point in the night where Rans and Holster propositioned them for a foursome (seriously, WHAT in the fuck?!) and it was just… too much.

Thus, feeling like death.

It’s only when the groaning starts above him that Derek realizes he’s been passed out on the floor. Which… probably doesn’t help with the corpse-bride feel. Logically, he knows he should get up… but that would involve movement. And effort. And not vomiting.

“Babe,” the disembodied voice from the bed croaks out, “shut the fucking blinds.”

With Herculean effort, he manages to open one eye to check on the window situation… which, in hindsight, was a poor choice.

“The blinds are shut.”

From above, there’s a furious rustling, and Derek loves Will. He loves him so much. But if he doesn’t stop moving around, he’s going to kill him.

“Please-” he whimpers, “please stop moving. You’re making so much noise and it hurts.”

He’s whining. He knows that he’s whining. But he doesn’t fucking deserve the pillow that Will throws at his head.

“Don’t tell me to stop moving, Derek - your fucking blinds are shit and I’m dying. I’m dead. The light is killing me and it’s all your fault.”

Will sounds just as fucked as Derek feels, and last night was such a bad idea. He’d say as much, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he tries to apologize is a dying whale sound.

“Uuuhghhhhghhhhhhhuhhhhhhhhhh.”

Ever the romantic, caring, and wonderful boyfriend that he is, Will’s response to this is to throw another pillow… and really, what in the fuck was past Derek thinking having so many throw pillows on his bed?

It’s only now, as he watches Lardo, Ransom, and Holster make their peace with the center ice, that everything feels real.

In just a few days, they’re going to be graduating… and nothing is going to be the same.

And… it’s kind of a mindfuck. Because, like, as much as he’s known that the seniors would be leaving, it kind of hits him all over again… because these people are his family and he loves them.

Jack and Shitty were s’wawesome, but somehow the idea of losing the class of 2016 is a sharper loss. A deeper loss.

A heavy weight presses in close as Will takes the seat next to him, but even Will’s presence isn’t enough to banish the bittersweet mood from his head.

“Did I miss anything good?” Will whispers, his breath warm as it gusts against the shell of Derek’s ear.

“Nah, they’ve been sitting out there for fifteen minutes, and I’m pretty sure that Holster’s been crying the entire time. Can’t hear anything from here, though.”

Gentle, Will huffs a laugh at that before reaching over to lace his fingers with Derek’s.

“Well, the fire pit’s all set up, and the tadpoles carried enough blankets and pies and cases of beer up to the roof to carry us over through a minor siege.”

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh,” Chowder whisper-yells from a few rows up, “it’s happening!”

From where they’re sitting they have a perfect view, and it hurts in the best of ways to watch the seniors press their kisses to the ice… because if the team is a family, Faber is their home… and they’re saying goodbye.

There’s cheering then, as Rans and Holster help Lardo to her feet, and Will’s good enough not to chirp Derek for the way his eyes get suspiciously damp. He just holds on tight before lifting their hands to pepper kisses to Derek’s knuckles.

The lights in Faber are dim, and their friends are hugging and cheering and celebrating as their time together runs out… and the only thing that matters is the warmth in Will’s eyes.

Considering how horribly the last time went when they were alone with Ransom and Holster, this time feels a lot more… chill.

For one thing, they haven’t been kidnapped, and for another they’re not captive in the Haus’ dingy basement. No, this time they’re crammed into a corner booth at Jerry’s, stuffing themselves silly with eggs benedict and french toast and bacon and far too many pancakes. And, y’know, it’s good. It’s the kind of thing that feels like it should have been a tradition the entire time. Just a handful of d-men enjoying some epic eats. As one does.

Of course, they’re only halfway through their respective meals when Holster’s eyes start getting cagey and Ransom starts over-applying hot sauce to his plate… which normally wouldn’t be so weird, except that he’s been absolutely dumping sriracha on his chocolate chip pancakes… and that’s just not an okay pairing.

To Derek’s left, Will starts slowly putting down his utensils, and from the way that his posture goes rigid, it’s clear that he’s casing the joint for the quickest exit. Because, look, you can love two people without actually trusting them… and after the powerpoint thing, trust isn’t really something that either of them have in spades for their co-captains.

“So!” Holster blurts out, loud enough to have multiples pairs of eyes glaring at our tables (“Ugh, it’s the hockey team.” “Ugh, not again.”), but he continues on as if half the restaurant’s patrons weren’t suddenly unwilling members of the conversation. “We have brought you here today under false pretenses.”

Pushing his plate away with a grimace, Ransom leans closer towards the center of the table before chiming in.

“We did not bring you here to merely appreciate the fine food of Jerry’s excellent establishment! No! We brought you here to bestow upon you-”

“-our dibs to the attic!” Holster finishes for him. “We know that it’s late in the game to be giving out dibs, but we had to be sure that you two would be able to live together.”

“Chyeah,” Rans chimes in after swiping a piece of bacon from Holster’s plate. “After all the drama that went on this year, and the rocky start you had last year, we had to make sure it would work out… but after much scientific study-”

“And after getting the input of the rest of the team-”

“We have decided that you two have what it takes to make it work.”

Risking a glance to his left, Derek’s not terribly surprised to see that Will’s jaw is absolutely dropped. It would be funny if he felt less shocked himself… because - like, they didn’t think they’d get into the Haus at all. And, if they did, they were pretty sure they wouldn’t be picked to double up in the attic. Not with their history, and not with the fact that they’re dating…

But here they are, sitting at Jerry’s, being given the opportunity to live at the Haus together, and it’s overwhelming, and it’s amazing, and it’s so much, because Derek knows how much Will struggles under the weight of his student loans (he won’t have to start paying them off until after they graduate, but Derek knows that it’s something that keeps Will up late into the night, even now, years before they’re due) and this could help.

And Derek… look, he may never have the financial burdens that Will’s grown up with… but he’s in love. He’s in love with his boyfriend, and he’s in love with his team, and he wants to soak up as much time with them as possible. Because he’s tired of being apart.

Across the table, Holster clears his throat dramatically, and it’s only when Derek tears his eyes away from Will’s face that he notices that both Holster and Ransom are still in the exact same position they were in when they bestowed their dibs. Like, honestly, Derek’s kind of surprised that they didn’t break out the spirit fingers, because this entire thing screams overdramatic. But… that’s what makes them them.

“I’m in if you’re in, Nurse,” Will says, and in all the time that they’ve known each other, Derek can’t think of a moment where he was lovelier. His cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are soft, and everything about his face screams of earnestness. Will is in this… and that’s everything.

“Yeah… Hell yeah! I’m in.”

Ransom and Holster cheer at that, drawing more hushed chastisements and curses from around the room, but none of that matters. Not with the way that Will’s looking at him, soft and fond, like Derek’s all that he needs.

And that… if Derek was better with a camera, he’d take a picture of this moment, and he’d carry it around in his pocket... because even the looming trip to meet Will’s family doesn’t feel so bad when Will looks at him like that.

Graduation… it’s fucking heavy, but as melancholy as Derek could be about it all - the changes in the team dynamic and the holes in the team that will have to be filled and the fact that he and Will are in turn another year closer to graduating themselves - he just can’t focus on all the things that are sad today, because there’s too much to be proud of.

Lardo walks across the stage first, and the applause is insane. She’s got her art friends, and her team, and it’s like for a single moment the world revolves around her. It feels right though, because she’s epic in a way that few people ever are, and if there was ever someone that the world should revolve around, it would be Larissa Duan.

After what feels like an eternity, they call Holster’s name, and damn, his parents are loud. Like, they might be as loud as the entire hockey team combined… which is pretty fucking cool, actually. Derek can’t imagine his parents ever being that passionate about anything, but it’s clear from the way that the Birkholtzes are cheering that this is just how they are… which kind of puts Holster’s entire vibe into a clearer perspective. It’s chill.

Ransom’s family isn’t nearly as loud when he goes to get his diploma, but they’re there, and they’re ecstatic. Which… it’s fucking nice, because Ransom deserves good things. Because, like, Derek knows what it’s like to let your anxieties rule you, and Ransom deserves to have people cheering his name. Because he’s a good dude, and a good captain, and even despite the basement bullshit, Ransom’s always kind of been his favorite… so Derek cheers until his throat is sore and his cheeks burn from smiling… because these are his friends.

Lardo, and Holster, and Ransom… they’re his friends, and if he never sees them again after this day, he wants them to remember him cheering down the sky for them.

He doesn’t want them to ever forget.

When everything’s said and done, it doesn’t take much time to pack up his dorm room (even if Will chirps him constantly for all of the pillows and tapestries he has - wanting to be comfortable isn’t a crime - it only takes a few minutes to throw everything into a black plastic bag), so it’s barely past noon by the time he gets everything dragged downstairs.

The dorm’s swirling with students and families, and it would probably be overwhelming, except Will’s waiting for him in the parking lot, leaned against a pickup truck that’s seen better days.

“C’mon, Nurse. Time’s a’wastin, and we’ve got places to be!”

Rolling his eyes hard enough to ensure that Will can see, even from where he’s standing twenty feet away, Derek hauls his pillow bag over one shoulder and his backpack over the other, and manages to wheel his luggage behind him without tripping once.

It’s a victory.

Of course, it’s made sweeter when Will leans in for a kiss before making quick work of hauling Derek’s things into the bed of the truck.

Dropping their things off at the Haus isn’t as quick and easy as the packing was, and really, it should be less of a shock that what was supposed to be a quick stop before hitting the road turned into an extended interlude of tearful goodbyes and good-natured chirping. It’s good though, to spend a little more time with the team before hitting the road.

(a little voice in the back of Derek’s head reminds him that the more time they spend with the team, the less time he’ll have left to spend with the Poindexters, but it’s easy enough to ignore)

“So, you’re gonna go spend some time with Dex’s family this summer, hmmm?” Bitty says, voice faux-casual and dripping with honey as he puts a healthy slice of apple pie in front of him.

“Yeah… it’s gonna be chill,” Derek says, keeping his eyes on the plate before him to avoid Bitty’s gaze.

“Mhmm. Did I ever tell you about the first time I met Jack’s dad? Lord, I was a mess, and I didn’t even realize what it meant to be talking to Bad Bob… I just saw him as Jack’s dad, and that was enough to have me scared out of my wits.

“I was so worried about making a good impression, and that was before anything even happened with Jack, and I just-” Bitty pauses for a moment before continuing, and even with the heavy gap in conversation, Derek still can’t bring his eyes from from his pie. “I don’t know if I ever told you how good you are for Dex. How good y’all are for each other… and I know that’s not the same thing as having his family’s approval, but I think it’s important for you to hear this all the same.

“You make that boy happy, and you work hard to treat him right. His family’s gonna see that, and they’re either gonna love you, or they’re not - you can’t change their opinions, but you can do your best to remember that the only opinions that matter in the end are the ones that belong to you and Dex.

“So you just hold onto the fact that your boy loves you, and that you love him, and everything else will sort itself out.”

From somewhere upstairs, there’s a loud thud followed by the dulcet tones of Will bitching, and it’s only then that Derek can look up. And he doesn’t know if he wants to laugh, or if he needs to cry, but Bitty shoots him a small, but firm smile before busying himself with putting away the rest of the pie.

And, yeah… instead of laughing, or crying, or any of a hundred other ways he could shatter apart in the weight of the moment, Derek takes a bite of pie. And it’s good.

It’s almost four o’clock by the time they’re ready to hit the road, but it doesn’t feel like it was time wasted.

Will managed to get the bunk beds down and pushed together into something approximating a king sized bed, and with Holster’s help they managed to get all their bags and boxes upstairs. They’ll have a lot of unpacking and organizing to do once they get back from summer vacation, but it’s a better solution than dragging everything home just to bring it back.

Part of Derek wants to stay another night - even though Chowder and Farmer already headed out to catch their flight to California, it feels like the rest of the team is staying put. Bitty’s hanging around for a few days before heading to Providence, and Ransom and Holster are camping out in the living room for the week. Lardo’s out celebrating with her family and Shitty, but she had already made it clear to the entire team that she would be back, and that no one was allowed to touch her things.

It would be so chill to stay longer. To put off the inevitable, and to maintain the status quo… but then Will’s stomping down the stairs from the attic, and Bitty’s giving them pie for the road, and Ransom and Holster are sweeping them into bone-crushing hugs… and Will is smiling at Derek like he’s worth something… and it’s enough to keep him grounded.

So with a final wave to the gang, they climb into Will’s car, and they fasten their seatbelts, and Derek waits for Will to start the engine.

But… he doesn’t. He just kind of stares at the wheel for a minute before huffing out loud and pulling his phone from his pocket, furiously tapping away at the screen like he’s on a mission.

And, like, normally Derek would chirp him. At the very least, he’d ask what’s so important, but then his phone’s alert chime goes off, and he automatically pulls it out. Because, while he can handle Will being weird, it’s easier to address when your phone isn’t interrupting you.

So, he sets his phone notifications to vibrate.

Or, like, he would, except for the fact that he’s got a Facebook relationship request from Will… which-

“Babe. You know I’m literally right next to you, right?” He asks, even as he opens the app to accept it. And, like, he doesn’t expect an answer, but then Will’s hand is high up on his thigh, and Will’s lips are brushing against his cheek, and apparently being ‘Facebook Official’ is something that Will wants.

“I just,” Will starts, stopping for a moment to take a deep breath before continuing. “I love you, and I love us, and I kind of realized the other day that while I know that you’re my boyfriend, and my family knows that you’re my boyfriend, I kind of want everyone to know?

“... and this whole thing kind of fuckin’ started with Facebook… so, I thought that maybe it was about time that I made an honest man out of you. Or something... oh god, please don’t tell Shitty I said that, he’ll never stop lecturing me, and I’m really not-”

Derek cuts him off the best way he knows - with his lips, and his hands, and while Will’s kiss had been chaste and sweet, this is raw and claiming, because Derek needs to make sure that Will knows how vital he is to Derek’s happiness. How essential he is to Derek’s life. So he shows him, with tongue and teeth and fingers gripping at his sides, thrilling at the way that Will responds.

It’s everything.

Or, at least, it was everything until both their phones start going off like crazy. It’s all high-pitched dings and the annoying soundbite of Wellie the Dancing Well that Will has set for his notifications, and it’s enough to have them both reluctantly pulling away. Which… in immediate hindsight, is probably for the best, considering the way that Mrs. Cerreta from across the street is peeping on them from behind her curtains.

“I swear to god, that woman is waiting for us to fuck in front of her.”

It takes a minute for Will to figure out what he’s talking about, but once he does it’s enough to kill the mood.

“We need to invest in blackout curtains for next year. I’m not having her perv on us in our own home. Not after the last time we caught her.”

With a smile creeping along his face (because really, it’s kind of the best thing in the world to have Will talking about their home), Derek nods along with Will’s disgust before pulling his phone back out.

“Well… I’ve got about fifty notifications of people liking our relationship, and about sixty comments, of which at least thirty are just Ransom and Holster going back and forth…”

Will snorts at that, clearly amused by how ridiculous their friends are, but then Derek gets another notification and suddenly everything gets a little more real.

“Um. Also, I think your dad just sent me a friend request?”

It’s not supposed to be a question, but it sure as hell sounds like one. And from the way that Will’s looking at him, maybe a question was the right way to go. Because he looks gobsmacked.

“He sent you a- let me see.”

Derek passes over his phone without putting up a fight, and he’s just kind of lost, because he doesn’t know how to feel. Usually he’d try to get a read out of Will, but he’s just staring at Derek’s phone, and it’s a little bit unnerving. Because it feels like it should be a good thing. It feels like it should be the best thing, because even with Will being brave and strong and wonderful, his father’s silence when he had come out to the family wasn’t something to be brushed aside.

It’s only now, as Will’s posture softens at the edges and a smile tugs at his lips, that Derek realizes that maybe it had weighed on Will as much as it had weighed on him… more so, even. For the first time, Derek understands that it isn’t something he’s facing alone… this crippling desire to be good enough… this need to be accepted by Will’s family.

“He sent you a friend request… I wasn’t sure he knew how to use Facebook at all, but he sent you a friend request.” Still holding Derek’s phone, Will glances over, and he’s beautiful. “I love you. I love you so much, and I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone.”

“Yeah… me too,” Derek breathes out. And yeah, there’s more that he could say - he could tell Will about how much this has lightened his anxiety… or he could tell Will about how he’s already picturing them with wrinkles around their eyes and kids of their own… or how he worries about introducing Will to his parents - not because they’d react poorly, but because he’s ashamed of the lack of relationship he has with them… because he’s afraid of a lack of reaction. He could tell Will any of the things that are swirling in his heart and his head and under his skin… but instead he keeps them for another time and chooses to focus on the moment. “Are you ready to hit the road?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

So they do.

And if Will’s hand rests on Derek’s thigh throughout the four hour trip? And if they can’t stop sneaking little smiles at each other? And if they only bicker for the first half hour over what to listen to until they settle on Fleetwood Mac? And if Derek makes sure to take Will’s face between his hands at the end when they’re parked in front of Will’s childhood home so that he can kiss Will with every ounce of love and worship he holds in his heart for him before hopping out of the truck?

Well… it’s good.

Chapter Text

Really, Bitty had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this.

But, as his Moomaw has always said, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t fix stupid. She’d be shaking her head if she could see him now, but what Moomaw doesn’t know won’t hurt her… and even if you can’t fix stupid, that doesn’t mean you should just let it run rampant and unchecked.

Sometimes stupid has repercussions. And sometimes the responsibility of being captain weighs heavier across your shoulders than others. This is one of those times.

Mentally, he takes a moment to take stock of the situation to make sure that he’s got everything just so:

Blindfolds? Check

Bare lightbulb swinging from the ceiling? Check

Soft blankets, aspirin, and mini pies for afterwards? Check

Ransom and Holster hogtied on the floor, still passed out from their night of drinking? Check

He takes a deep, steadying breath before tugging his bandana tighter around his head. Really… he’s known that this time would come for a long, long while. And while part of him had known that it would be his responsibility to carry out the appropriate punishment, he had still hoped to remain neutral… but that hope was snatched away when he had accepted the mantle of captain.

A low, pained groan wafts from where his former captains were deposited earlier (and really, who would have guessed that Lardo was so strong?), which is his cue to get the show on the road.

With a flick of his wrist that’s more for show than anything else, Bitty turns on the projector and ignores the groans of protest when the screen’s glow brightens up the dim of the basement.

BLESS YOUR HEARTS WITH ERIC BITTLE #1

~ The End ~