alocalband:

They don’t tell the team right away. Not because they’re trying to hide anything, but because they figure it’s so obvious that they don’t need to.

Their friendship transitions so surprisingly easily into something more that it probably looks impossible from the outside. Strange, to say the least. Miraculous, maybe, but only if one really hadn’t been paying attention. 

Dex now does homework with Nursey’s hand resting on the back of his neck, palm warm against the skin there and fingertips absently scratching up against the grain of Dex’s short hair and then softly back down.

Dex carries an extra beanie with him on cold days, and pulls it down over Nursey’s ears for him as they walk to class, despite Nursey’s token protests.

He forgets to eat breakfast on busy days, always has, but now finds black coffee and overpriced Annie’s banana nut muffins on his open textbook when he stops at his dorm room between his morning classes.

He smiles a little quicker, a little easier.

He still argues just as much as he ever did.

It’s… effortless. It’s good.

And okay, so maybe Dex has been waiting for the other shoe to drop this whole time–that’s just how his life tends to work–but he didn’t really expect said shoe to manifest in a stunned group silence at team breakfast in the wake of Nursey pressing a quick kiss to his temple as he sits down to join them.

It feels like the entire cafeteria freezes, even if it’s really just the chaos that is the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team during a mealtime suddenly stopping short in collective wonder.

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