Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex that flickers like the soft light of a candle. The Dex that doesn’t pretend that he hates being held, the Dex that whispers in Derek’s ear about his day like it’s a secret, like Derek is the only person allowed to hear the mundane facts of Dex’s life, what he ate for lunch, what Angelina from stats told him about Professor Greene. The Dex that likes to kiss Derek’s nose and eyes twice each because he doesn’t like odd numbers. The Dex who will hold Derek’s face in his hands and press their foreheads together. Who has cinnamon eyes and when he tells Derek he loves him, he believes it.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex that skitters around like a bunny in spring. The Dex that forces him to sit down and watch the 1960s Star Trek only to talk over it the entire time. The Dex that will hook his chin over Derek’s shoulder and say “mmm yes” in a horrible impression of Yoda. The Dex that blows raspberries into his stomach when he’s drunk and sometimes when he’s sober. The Dex who has a Boba Fett action figure on his nightstand just in case. The Dex that will hold his hand when they walk into the video game store every single time.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex who burns down cities with the slightest spark. The Dex who presses Derek down into the mattress and moans in his ear, makes his whole body throb with want. The Dex that will storm out after an intense fight and leaves him breathless. Who kisses like he wants to sear the taste of anyone else from Derek’s mouth, leaves bruises like scattered rose petals on his skin. The Dex that cries angry tears, who gets angrier the more they fall, like water thrown on a gas fire.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex with a bleeding heart. The Dex who will donate a dollar at every drive thru. The Dex with a chip on his shoulder. The Dex who quite literally gives people the shirt off his back. Who can’t pass by a homeless person without giving them something. The Dex that can barely afford to eat every month who gives and gives and gives until he can’t anymore. The Dex who picks up strays every weekend just by “coincidence.” The Dex who sometimes can’t sleep at night because he knows someone out there is hurting. The Dex that makes Derek desperate to be better.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex is the Dex that is steadfast, dependable. Competent, in every sense of the word. The Dex that fixes the dryer and the oven and the shower every other week. The Dex that actually has a toolbox with his initials on it. The Dex that has a budget and can stick to it. The Dex who already knows about taxes and social security. The Dex who works on his truck for fun. The Dex Derek knows he could probably marry, have the 2.5 kids and the white picket fence with. The Dex who makes forever feel possible.
Derek’s favorite version of Dex, is Dex. The Dex who cries at the end of Forrest Gump, who listens to Black Dog by Led Zeppelin on repeat. The Dex who has no table manners, who shovels food in his mouth like he’s angry at it. The Dex who is unendingly wheezy in the spring, and burns after ten minutes in the sun. The Dex who hates reading and doesn’t get art and really has no clue where “to thine own self be true” came from. Dex, who never really let Derek have a honeymoon phase. Dex, who Derek is wildly, hopelessly, boundlessly in love with.
If someone would like to draw Dex in the Haus kitchen, wearing an apron and mixing ingredients, while Nursey looks on with heart eyes, that would be so amazing I’d scream.
The kicker is, Derek thinks, Dex is nothing like fire.
He’s capped in red, dotted with red like he’s been singed by a thousand bright sparks, but he’s not fire himself. He’s earth, grounded and serious and not given to flight or flame or fancy. Dex gets mad sometimes, but not everyone who gets mad is fire; in Dex’s case he’s an earthquake. A low shudder, a deep rumble, cracks appearing on the surface. If a building should crash to the ground, if an electrical wire should snap and start spraying sparks, those are all side effects. At the core of him, he’s tectonic plates. Low and slowly shifting, every deliberate movement deeply consequential. He’s the earth.
If anyone is fire, it’s Derek himself. He’s made of heat; his attention is constantly jumping; he’s brightness and carefully controlled excitement. He takes in anything, consumes it utterly, makes it part of himself. Burns his signature into it. But Derek has never been able to limit himself to just one element. He’s air, too, and water. He’s ice and metal. But as much as he loves the earth, loves to bury himself in leaves until he can feel the warmth of the soil beneath, he’s never been part of it. He’s never been an anchor.
Dex is. Dex is solid and sure, and, Derek is certain, he holds a core of warmth deep within. So Derek keeps burrowing down, trying to reach it. He wants to find that part of Dex that’s soft and yielding, that makes things grow. Somewhere beneath the surface, beneath hair and skin like a pile of flaming autumn leaves, is the gentle, giving touch of earth. Derek wants to roll around in it forever.
okay so you know the video of the guy who forgot he was married to his wife? that but with Nursey as the guy and Dex as the wife but instead of Dex responding with “I’m your husband” when Nursey asks if he’s an angel he says “Close. I’m actually a Nurse.”
and Nursey doesn’t understand for a sec what that means he’s just like “oh. that’s chill.” and Dex laughs and then the doctor comes in like “is everything alright Mr. Nurse?” and Nursey realizes the doctor is referring to him and then he looks at Dex and then at the doctor and his eyes go wide and he’s like “you’re my husband?!”
and honestly Dex would give both his kidneys and half a lung to see Nursey’s face light up like that again god i love these boys
No one notices that Dex and Nursey are together for two months. They’re surprisingly subtle about it, maintaining their decorum on the ice, saving their kisses for when they’re alone. They fight as much as they did before, because some things never change, but they resolve every issue with soft apologies and warm bodies in the dark of their rooms. It’s tentative but intense, and they’re both a little too afraid of the depth of their feelings to announce it to everyone – that would mean putting a name on it, on what they feel for each other, and they’re not there yet.
So they don’t say anything, and everyone’s too sure of their hatred for each other to see the change in their relationship. Two months since the first heated kiss in Dex’s room and the SMH are none the wiser. It’s almost too easy, Dex giving a practiced scowl whenever Chowder tries to get him to socialize with Nursey, Nursey shrugging nonchalantly whenever Ransom and Holster point out the pros of being friends and D-men. Even Bitty and Lardo miss the subtle cues they give: a glance here, a brush of a hand there, Nursey eyeing the delightful red of Dex’s blush whenever his shirt rides up to show a slither of toned, dark skin. They get a little reckless, stealing kisses in the Haus just outside the kitchen doorway as Bitty putters about inside, exploring each other’s bodies in the stands at Faber. They begin to talk about them a little more, growing more and more confident each day in themselves and their relationship to the point that Dex thinks they might soon be brave enough to define it.
And then they play Michigan, and everything goes to shit.
It’s a rough game, rougher than any of them have played in a long time, and they’re not prepared. Bitty gets checked in the first period and it’s dirty. He’s lucky it’s not worse, but he has to sit out for the rest of the game and they’re furious. The SMH are now on edge, every one of them out for blood, but even when Tango checks the guy who’d got Bitty hard, Michigan don’t let up. The atmosphere in the stands has gone from enthusiastic to tense, angry ripples running through the crowd, and it doesn’t help the team keep a level head. At the end of the second period Bitty calls them over and gives them a fond but firm talking to – he’s not a damsel they need to defend; they can’t stoop to Michigan’s level; they need to play their best and play for themselves, not to prove something to their opponents. Rans and Holtz give him surprisingly gentle hugs, tease him about being a shoo-in for Captain next year (everyone else agrees) and give their own brief rallying call.
When they go back out on the ice they’re braced to win with pride, or at least go down with dignity. Dex makes sure to skate a little too close to Nursey as they take their positions, a brief brush of arms as reassurance that they’re there, it’s okay, it’s fine. Something warm settles in Nursey’s chest, and he’s ready. The final period starts, and they’re off. The SMH play valiantly and cleanly, resistant and stoic in the face of Michigan’s questionable tactics, and it does them good. It looks like they’re going to win as they enter the final five minutes, and Dex can’t resist flashing a grin at Nursey as he hits the puck up to Tango. Nursey means to return it, meets Dex’s gaze – and catches the moment that a Michigan player crashes into Dex.
The check is violent to the extreme and completely illegal. Everyone’s yelling around them, the crowd in uproar, the paramedics making their way out onto the ice, the team screaming at Michigan. Nursey just freezes where he stands, stares at Dex’s unmoving form, watches as the paramedics search for a pulse. The relief is palpable when they find it, but Dex is still unconscious, and is that blood? Red is seeping onto the ice, staining the delicate strands of Dex’s ginger hair a vicious red. There’s a brief moment when Nursey remembers the night before, lying in Dex’s bed, running his hands through that beautiful hair, and then-
me: *whispering* idk if this is at all what you wanted but i read this prompt and literally could not get this one thing out of my head also ilu and this idea
The
train rattles by Solenski Plaza, and Will notes it as a reminder of the time,
filing it away in the recesses of his mind like he’s been trained to do since
childhood. He counts the cars by the jostling of their connections over the
rails, just to have something to do.
He’d
pay attention to the beating, but it’s really just not interesting enough.
“I keep better time during hockey season,” Jack tells him once. “Easier to track a life in wins and losses than in idle days, eh?”
And Nursey can definitely relate, but he definitely doesn’t say so. Not when Bitty gets that look on his face at overhearing the conversation, like what Jack’s just said is the saddest thing to ever be uttered. The hockey robot who can’t quite human the way he should.
The thing is that Nursey is his own kind of robot, if he’s honest with himself. Which he tries not to be anymore. “Honesty” usually packs a punch that he would rather not suffer through if he can help it.
Robot Nursey is very good at projecting the appearance of a person that is the polar opposite of the person all of his internal thoughts and emotions want him to be. He can compartmentalize nearly any situational response that goes against this outward ruse. And he can neatly divide his own life up into a series of challenges that his careful mask has faced, and a collection of coping mechanisms to go with them.
just moving along like everyone else 