Can you do #4 in the 100 ways to say I love you
Once Dex gets started on a problem set, it takes a lot to tear him away. So far, only three matters of life and death have forced him to leave his desk for more than two minutes: once when Betsy broke while a pie was baking, then again when Nursey fell down the stairs (“BRO, I THINK YOUR D-MAN JUST BROKE EVERY BONE IN HIS BODY,“ “HOLTZY, I’M A DOCTOR, HE'S FINE!”), and again when it rained and the window frames all swelled up and nobody could get to the Reading Room.
Priorities, that’s the word. Dex only leaves his desk for his priorities.
That’s what he tells himself, at least, and generally it seems to work.
Except lately, he’s been getting distracted by other things - things that, until they became “official” a little while ago, were definitely not priorities.
Now, when Nursey begged him to take a break and go with him to Annie’s, Dex went. When Nursey tried to use what little Dex had taught him to fix one of the off-balance chairs in the kitchen and instead broke one of its legs clean off, Dex went. And today…
Actually, today Dex doesn’t really have an excuse, since it wasn’t Nursey who called him. Not even ‘called’ him - he was doing physics homework in Chowder’s bedroom, since the Haus was quieter than his dorm floor, so all Lardo had to do was go upstairs.
“The dryer can wait, I’ve got three problems left.”
“Bro, it’s not the dryer, it’s Nursey.”
Dex looks up from his paper, concerned. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
“He’s downstairs, and he keeps asking for you. It’s annoying. You two are gross.”
Sure enough, Dex checks his phone - he keeps it on silent while he studies - and there are eleven texts from Nursey. The most recent ones read come on, babe, please and dexxxxxxx.
Cautiously, Dex follows her into the living room, where the entire team is gathered around the window next to the front door.
“Alright, y'all, I can’t watch this anymore. I’m gonna go finish my pie,” Bitty says, shaking his head as he turns toward the kitchen. When he walks past them, he mutters something about “Boys," and Lardo nods sagely in agreement after him.
"He’s over there,” she says, giving Dex a solid push toward the clump before following after Bitty.
When Dex taps him on the shoulder, Ransom steps aside to let him through, and… there’s Nursey. He’s stranded out on the porch, holding the front doorknob in his hand, looking absolutely miserable. Dex positions himself on the edge of the group so Nursey can’t see him and keeps quiet.
“Come on, man,” Nursey pleads. “Just let me in already!”
“Not until you give us the deets,” Holster says, crossing his arms.
“There are no deets,” Nursey insists, which makes Tango tilt his head.
“I’m confused. Didn’t you say a few minutes ago that you’d tell Holster if he let you in? If there aren’t any deets, what were you gonna tell him?”
Ransom high-fives him while Nursey narrows his eyes. “Tango, it’s reasons like this why we don’t let frogs in the group chat.”
“I don’t know, man, he’s got a point,” Whiskey offers, which only makes Nursey glare harder.
“Just go get Dex. He’ll back me up on this, I swear. Come on, Holster, d-man to d-man.”
“Maybe we should,” Chowder offers nervously. “You always say that nobody knows a d-man like his partner.”
“Holtzy, he’s right. If anyone’s gonna settle this, it’s Dex,” Ransom adds.
“I mean, I’ll try,” Dex pipes up, and Tango jumps. Dex uses the opportunity to push into the middle of the group until he’s right in front of Nursey, who beams when he sees him. (Maybe Lardo’s right. Maybe now they’re officially in ‘gross’ territory. Either way, Dex finds that he doesn’t mind all that much.)
“Dex! Dex, I swear, I didn’t pull on it or anything, it just-”
“Yeah, I believe you. It’s old, like everything else in this Haus. It was gonna happen sooner or later,” Dex shrugs.
“Tell them there’s no deets,” Nursey implores. “Come on, Dex, I’ve been out here for half an hour and I'm cold and this is not fair, it’s torture, really, and so not chill-” He stops when he realizes Dex is laughing at him. And not a little laugh, either - a full-on, gasping for breath laugh, and Nursey is not amused. “Asshole.”
“I thought New Yorkers were used to the snow?” Dex asks, once he can function again. He grins, and Nursey huffs.
“And I thought you were going to help me.”
“Fine, I guess I’ll let you in,” Dex says nonchalantly, despite the protests that fill the room behind him. As he walks over to open the door, he waves Holster away. “Chill, okay? I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, bro’s honor.”
Nursey brings a gust of wind and a few snowflakes into the living room with him. “You all suck.” Dex stifles a giggle. “Especially you. I thought we were supposed to be on the same team now?”
Dex affectionately brushes the snow out of his hair. “Yeah, but you’ve gotta admit, that was funny.” Nursey glowers, unwinding his scarf and taking off his coat. Dex grins. “Alright, you, come here. Let me fix it.”
He holds out a hand for the knob, and after Nursey gives it to him he buries his face in Dex’s neck, wrapping his arms around his waist. "You guys really left him out there for half an hour for deets? I’m not, like, mad, I just… I would have told you, you could have just asked me.“
Tango tilts his head again, brow furrowed. "So there are deets?” he asks slowly, and Dex nods.
“Yeah, I’m dating this loser.”
It takes ten minutes to convince Chowder not to burst into tears (“Happy tears, I’m just so happy for you both!!!”) and another ten for Whiskey to answer all of Tango’s questions (“But… but Dex said chill!” “That’s not a question, Tony.”). Meanwhile, it takes twenty for Ransom and Holster to wrap their heads around it, even with Lardo’s help.
“Whoa, bros, you’re like, dating dating?”
Dex sighs. “As opposed to…?”
“Dude, we thought Nursey was dating a LAX bro!”
Lardo doesn’t even bother looking up from her phone. “You two are idiots.”
Nursey makes a face from where he’s snuggled into Dex’s side on the couch while Lardo and Dex both roll their eyes. “Ew, no, LAX bros are gross.”
“Yeah, bro, that’s why we were so confused.” Ransom nods.
“Fuck the LAX bros, but not like that.” Holster’s comment earns him a throw pillow to the face, and soon the entire living room is a mess of pillows and six foot tall hockey players shrieking like five year old girls.
In the midst of all the commotion, Tango frowns again. “We’re really not allowed in the group chat?” he asks Whiskey, who nods.
“You can thank me later.”