Nursey is so wrapped up in saying goodbye to the graduating seniors that he doesn’t notice Dex and Bitty disappear until Chowder pokes him in his ribs with a grin. “You’re gonna pretend to be surprised, right?”
Nursey is already surprised, and confused, but doesn’t say so.
When they get back to the Haus half an hour later, taking the long route at Chowder’s insistence, everything looks the same as it always does. That is until Nursey makes his way up to Lardo’s old room, determined to figure out what he’s apparently supposed to already suspect.
“Shit,” Dex curses when he spots him. “Uh, hey? Fuck. I mean. What’s up, Nurse?”
Nursey blinks several times in quick succession, but the image of Dex in the middle of hanging custom bookshelves on the back wall of their soon-to-be-shared-bedroom while surrounded by at least five of Nursey’s favorite baked goods doesn’t go away. “…I literally don’t even know where to start, bro.”
Dex’s head drops down with a beleaguered groan. There’s a number two pencil stuck behind one ear and a hammer hanging from one of his belt loops. It’s a good look on him.
“Not that I’m complaining,” Nursey adds.
“You weren’t supposed to know I installed this,” Dex mutters, eyes trained on the floor.
“And the pies?”
“That was mostly Bitty. I only made one of them.“ Dex shrugs a shoulder stiffly. "Well. One and a half.”
This is cliche and short but I actually finished it so
"I need another word for ‘cleansed’."
"Do I look like a Thesaurus to you, Nurse?"
Nursey looked up before he could stop himself, shock on his features for barely half a second before switching to… Pleased? Content. No, chuffed. (God, Nursey wanted to use that word in a poem one day. Chuffed.)
Dex, however, didn’t look up. The keys on his thick black laptop clicked almost continuously, and Nursey did not debate internally on whether he was writing an essay or lines of code, because he had poetry assignments to finish for tomorrow.
While not procrastinating, he shifted his mind to the whirring machine- it was really fucking old, but the thing was, Dex was the kind of person to repair his own electronics instead of upgrading them. (Like, with pliers and everything. He’s seen it happen.) The thing was in really good shape. Similar to the way that Hugh Jackman was by no means a spry twenty year old, yet looked like it would take nothing short of a battering ram to knock him over. A nice, solid, dependable-
"What the hell are you muttering about now?” Dex muttered, the hypocrite.
“Aw, nothing.” (Hugh Jackman) “The next line.” (Hugh Jackman as a laptop)
Context: our 3rd level party has been captured in an underground kobold city by an adult green dragon. Our DM has set this up as a problem solving thing to try to find a way to escape because surely we can’t take this dragon! I am playing as a transmutation wizard
Me: *turns to copper dragonborn fighter* hey let’s try something. Your breath weapon is acid right?
Me: *smiles* What would happen if we heated that up?
Both of us: *turn to DM, smiling*
The fighter breathed acid at the dragon’s face and I cast fire bolt, resulting in an acid cloud. The dragon is blinded in one eye. I succeed a dex save and the rest of the party fails and is backed into a corner. They proceed to distract the dragon to allow this to happen:
Me: Hey, minor alchemy works on stone, right?
Me: And we’re in a cave, right?
I turn the area under the dragon’s legs into wood and set it on fire. After a barrage of attacks, the dragon, ass ablaze, is brought down.
DM: okay… the kobolds look at you in fear, their leader having been brutally murdered.
Me: I cut off the dragon corpse’s head with my longsword and roll it down the street and shout “I AM YOUR QUEEN NOW” *passes both requisite strength checks*
he doesnt tell anyone to avoid the chirps but dex was a contestant on chopped in high school. nursey just happens to be watching reruns of chopped one day and thus it begins
My dude, sorry this took 5ever. But finals are done now. Yay! Also, I don’t really know how to cook, nor have I watched Chopped, so. Anyway. Enjoy. Thanks for the prompt!
There is one voice in the world Dex had hoped to never hear
in the haus, and it was the voice of Food Network chef and TV personality Alton
Brown. Yet, that is exactly what he hears when he pushes open the door of his bedroom.
A flash of familiar red hair on the screen has Dex across
the room in an instant. He shoves Nursey out of the way and slams the laptop
“Hey, what gives?” Nursey says.
“No,” is all Dex can say in response.
A devilish grin works its way across Nursey’s face. “How
come I’ve never gotten to taste your hollandaise sauce? If you could pull off
eggs Benedict with pig’s feet and those premade rolls, it’s gotta be killer.”
“No,” Dex repeats, throwing his bag under the desk, and
flopping face-first onto the bottom bunk.
Nursey awkwardly uses his heels to roll his chair back from
where Dex had pushed him. “So, it’s not killer?”
“No.” It’s muffled this time by Dex’s pillow.
“Did you win? I didn’t even get to see if you won.”
Dex turns his head to the side, so he can glare at Nursey.
“Yeah, I fucking won.”
Nursey’s eyebrows raise, impressed. Contradicting his
expression, he derisively says, “You sure? If you won, there would be nothing
wrong with me seeing the end.”
Dex remains silent. He stares into the distance and wishes
he could go back 60 seconds to the time before Nursey learned a secret that
made him incredibly annoying. Scratch that – more incredibly annoying.
“I can’t believe that
woman beat you. Her soufflé was atrocious. And her salad. Who would garnish a
salad with a vegetable? A salad is vegetables.”
“Right? The garnish just became another component of the
fucking salad,” Dex whispered.
Nursey has no idea about cooking. He will consume whatever
takes the least amount of time to prepare. The other day, Dex found him eating
a dinner of spaghetti and cut up Slim Jim. Naturally, Dex had also partaken of
the meal. But he wouldn’t have made it.
“Will you at least tell me how it ended?” Nursey is past
appealing to Dex’s pride. There’s a hint of a whine in his voice.
Dex flicks his eyes to Nursey, acknowledging his
Nursey stands. “Please?”
Wariness thaws Dex’s resignation. “No…”
Nursey takes Dex’s hand. “Please?” he says gently.
Nursey ducks into the bottom bunk. He straddles Dex’s lower
stomach, bends down, and murmurs, “Please?”
A shiver runs down Dex’ spine and through his limbs. His
“no” is a little strained.
Another few inches, and Nursey’s lips brush Dex’s ear. Sweat
breaks out across his brow. The heat of Nursey’s breaths floods across the side
of his face, fills his brain with steam. “PLEASE?” Nursey fucking screams in
A startled Dex shouts in terror and flails, his elbow catching
Nursey under the chin. With a grunt, Nursey rolls to the side as Dex scrambles
out of the bed.
“What the fuck,
Nurse?” Dex yells.
“Ow,” Nursey mumbles in response. His hand, cupped beneath
his chin, is catching the blood dripping from his lip.
“Christ. Fuck.” Dex grabs a handful of tissues from the box
on the desk. He shoves them in Nursey’s direction and sits cross legged on the
opposite end of the mattress. His heart is still thumping rapidly in his chest.
“Will you tell me now?” Nursey manages around his lip and a
wad of tissues.
The blood weakens Dex’s resolve considerably, but he still
says, “On a few conditions.” Nursey nods. “You can’t tell anyone else on the
team.” A moment. “Or formerly on the team,” he thinks to add.
Nursey shrugs and nods, conceding. “But I get a condition,
too, since you broke my face.”
Dex’s expression is deadpan.
“My beautiful face, Dex. I can never dance again.”
With a sigh and an eye roll, Dex says, “Fine.”
“You teach me to cook.”
Dex considers. Best-case scenario, he bonds with his
roommate, and he gets to cook in a setting that is not his grandmother’s
restaurant, with someone who is not a member of his family. Nursey will
hopefully eat his spaghetti with normal meat that is neither slim nor jim.
Worst-case scenario, Nursey slips and falls on a knife or
sets his arm on fire, and the team discovers his televised past. The cooking
accident and the chirping put Nursey and him in the ground, respectively.
But it could be fun. Dex decides he is practiced enough to avoid
the worst-case scenario. He is the primary member of the Nursey Patrol, and
kitchen Nursey can’t be too much more of a danger to himself than drunk Nursey.
“Sure,” Dex agrees.
Nursey perks up. “Really?”
“Alright,” Nursey says.
“Did you watch any of the desert round?” Dex asks, jumping
into his story.
“No. You opened the basket and it had sour cream and almond
“It was those and something else. I made cheesecake and put
the liqueur in the crust. Wang” - Jean Wang, his opponent – “make some crepe
thing. It was honestly a mess.”
“The cheesecake or the crepe.”
“The crepe. You saw her salad.”
“The judges said the crepe had a weird texture. They loved
the cheesecake, but –“
“But what?” Nursey gasps dramatically.
“But Alton fucking Brown said it was dry.”
There is a moment of silence in which both men absorb the
weight of that criticism. It’s broken by Nursey. “Brah. How the fuck can
cheesecake be dry?”
“Right? And the other judges just nodded along with it. But
I still won, so.”
“Yeah you fucking won. She made a plain ass salad and
crepes. Crepes taste like weird flat noodles.”
Dex nods eagerly. “Uh huh. And imagine a bad crepe. Weirder
Nursey mimics barfing, stands and grabs his bag. He throws
the bloody tissues in the trash, but his lower lip is still swollen. “Fuck
Alton Brown. The first thing I want to learn how to make is dry cheesecake.”
“My specialty,” Dex says.
Nursey grins, walks out the door, and leaves for class.
A smile stretches Dex’s lips, hidden in their empty room.
Dex slams the door shut and presses against the wood, leaning his head back and sucking in a deep breath. He stares blindly up at the ceiling and–
“Nurse, I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in the room. Not counting me.” Lardo pretends to flip a lock of hair over her shoulder. “We all know I’d smoke you bitches,” she adds, grinning. Her teeth flash in the low lighting, and she knocks back the last of her drink as the gather group lets out joking boos.
They all “ooh” at Nursey as he raises a challenging eyebrow and smirks at Lardo. He makes a show of looking around the room, leering slightly at the other players of spin the bottle – Holster, Dex, Tango, Ollie, Wicks, and a few members of the volleyball and soccer teams. Bitty is grinning from his spot on the floor next to Lardo and Dex, watching as Nursey catches the eye of each person.
“Dex!” The memory is abruptly interrupted as Chowder’s voice comes from beyond the door. “Come on, man!” Dex tries to straighten up, but his legs refuse to work. He sinks down to the floor, back still pressed against the door, trying to suck in deep breaths of air. He drops his head between his knees, squeezing his eyes shut and–
“If that pen explodes in your mouth,” Dex says from the bathroom doorway, “I am not gonna feel bad for you.”
Derek startles–and does drop the pen out of his mouth–and looks up. “What?”
Dex cocks a brow at him, flicking off the bathroom light and flopping down on the hotel bed next to Derek’s. “You’ve had two pens explode in your mouth from chewing on them like that,” he says. His red hair is wet, tousled from where he must’ve run his hands through it after his shower, and he rolls onto his stomach, propping himself on his elbows to look at Derek. “What’re you glaring at, anyway?”
Genre: Fluff Words: 2,280 Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Injuries Summary: Soulmate AU in which one’s heartbeat becomes perfectly in sync with their soulmate’s once they meet.
Your eyes fluttered open to the sound of talking. It was muffled, coming from the living room, but you could clearly make out the stern and exasperated voice.
“Give her a few days to adjust- she’s exhausted and in a huge amount of pain. Then, I will give her your number.”
It was silent for a moment as you lifted your right hand to rub your tired eyes. The smell of coffee filled the hallway, giving you a certain level of inexplicable comfort and the knowledge of the time of day. Your heel paused in the crease as you heard Bucky’s voice lower to an unimaginable tone. “You don’t want to press me on this.”
The sound send a shiver down your spine, one that made you antsy enough to squirm a bit. You attempted to raise up into a slight sitting position so you could hear his conversation better, but the tiniest of movement sent a sharp pain shooting through your entire side and abdomen. Despite biting your lip to keep any noises from escaping, a cross between a whimper and yell snuck out and, within a moment, Bucky was rushing into the room, fingers carelessly hitting the end button on his phone and pocketing the device.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
You blinked back the tears in your eyes, hand hovering over the tender area near your ribs. “Will you help me sit up?”
His worried eyes didn’t let up as his hands reached out to slide gently under your lower back and the crease behind your knees. His touch was soft, and his voice seemed to mimic that same warmth. “You’ve got to be careful, Doll.”
Doll. You might have felt the butterflies in your stomach if you weren’t so nauseous from the pain medication. He had never called you anything but your name and “Fighter.”
“Who were you talking to?” You mumbled once he had rested you up against the pillows.
“No one important. How are you feeling? You’re due for more of your medicine.”
“Could I have it?” You swallowed down the feeling of neediness, knowing he was going to be doting on you for two whole weeks, and the both of you would have to get used to it.
“’Course,” he reached for the bottle on the bedside table to the right of you, pouring until a large pill fell into his hand. You took it from him, placing it into your mouth and reaching for the glass of water he was handing to you.
He set the glass back onto the table when you were finished, gently sitting on the empty mattress space next to you. “Natasha and Steve came to see you while you were sleeping. They brought food for you if you are hungry. You should probably eat something so your stomach doesn’t get upset from the painkiller.”
You shook your head instantly, groaning out at the mention of food. You had been nauseous during your whole stay in the hospital, the operation and painkillers making you want to barf into the nearest bucket at all times.
Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I could make you a smoothie? You could sip on it?”
When you only continued to look at him warily, he sighed. You could almost see the self-doubt run across his features as he questioned if he were the best person to take care of you. Both of you knew he was the best to keep you safe, no doubt, but for the rest…
“Do you have peanut butter?”
He looked confused as he searched your eyes, but nodded nonetheless.
“Could you make me a peanut butter banana smoothie? The protein in it would probably help too.”
The hidden reassurance in your words seemed to work magic as his eyes lit up again. He nodded hastily, standing and wiping his palms on his sweats. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll make it right now.”
“Wait!” You called as he went to leave for the kitchen, nodding toward the television in front of where you were laying in his bed. “Could you turn something on for me?”
And that was how you ended up sipping on a peanut putter banana smoothie, watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Bucky sat next to you, above the covers despite you being covered by the sheets from your waist down. You both leaned against the pillows, legs straightened in front of you, watching the television contently.
He chuckled at the parts you laughed, but the reaction was directed more toward you than the actual show. The questions he asked sounded even more ridiculous than what was happening on screen, but you enjoyed when he had one because it was always veiled in a comedic snark that left you giggling into your drink.
“I want to be like Lisa Vanderpump one day.”
“Me too,” you agreed, even though you knew he was kidding. “I have some heels you can borrow for a start.”
His eyebrows raised, tilting his head toward you as he spoke in a teasing voice, his eyes never leaving the television screen. “They’d have to be pink.”
Silence erupted as the two of you watched the families interact on screen.
“Do you have any siblings?” Bucky asked, and you knew he had to be curious from the lack of people who had been concerned for your wellbeing both before and after the car wreck.
“Nope… Well, not any that I know of. I was put up for adoption.”
You hoped your nonchalant voice kept him from looking too deep into the topic, but as his head turned and his eyes focused on you, you knew you had gained his complete attention. “What was that like growing up? Having a foster family, I mean.”
The awkwardness was almost palpable, but you knew he was asking innocent questions. He wanted to learn about you. “I, uh, had many actually. Kinda went from home to home until I turned eighteen.” You shrugged.
His voice was barely louder than a whisper, his eyebrows furrowed. “Then what?”
“Then I moved around by myself and ended up here, met Natasha, and… here we are.”
“I’m so sorry.”
You shrugged again. “Don’t be. What about you? What’s your family like?”
He seemed to blink back into reality at the question, looking surprised for a moment before shaking his head and looking down to his lap. “We actually don’t talk much.”
You nodded, keeping your eyes on the show drama in front of you rather than push him for information he didn’t want to give out.
“Anyway, let’s switch to easier questions.” He sighed as he leaned back farther, his hands going to rest behind his head. “What’s your favorite ice-cream flavor?”
He side-eyed you. “No way vanilla is your favorite flavor.”
“It really is, I’m a simple girl.” You laughed, watching as he shook his head in mock disapproval.
“Shame. Rocky Road is by far the most superior.”
And then you really laughed, completely forgetting about the fact you were in a bed, and had been all day, due to your injuries. “Who even are you? We’re going to have to get two different cartons while I’m staying here then. I won’t eat that.”
“And who said I was getting us ice-cream?” He teased.
You didn’t answer because when you turned to shoot back a snarky response, you came within a couple of inches of his own face. Your eyes immediately landed on his lips, and you felt yourself subconsciously lick your own. His blue eyes were shining, seeming to light up in the dull room surrounding you. You could have stared into their glistening waters for hours. They drew you in like a riptide, and you were stuck, falling, leaning…
Quite literally. A giant crash from behind your back made you jump, breaking apart the minimal distance that had remained between you and Bucky. The sudden action made your whole body scream in pain, and you groaned out as you squeezed your eyes shut and leaned back into your pillows.
You felt the bed shift underneath you as Bucky got up, his soft voice turning extremely playful as you heard him cross the room. “There you are, Dex.”
Your eyes peeked open to see him scooping an orange Tabby into his arms, his free hand reaching out to pick the fallen lamp back up once the cat was situated. “Dex?”
“Yeah, like Dexter. Sam named him after the show.” He walked back to his previous spot on the bed, now with a purring cat.
“You have a cat… You do not seem like a cat person.”
“Have you seen this little guy?” He faced the cat toward you. “How could I not like him?”
The cat’s wide eyes met Bucky’s, and he let out a meow as if to tell Bucky it’s about time to put him down.
“You’d love having a pet. They’re the best.”
You choked out a laugh. “I can barely take care of myself, so I don’t think I’d be able to do that.”
He shrugged. “Animals help take care of you, in a way.”
The Tabby cat slid in between the leg space between your left and Bucky’s right thigh, spreading out and stretching until his long body was comfortable between both of you.
“See, he likes you too.”
His words reminded you of what he had said at the hospital. He had said that he knew you hated him, that he could live with that as long as you were alive.
“You know, you keep assuming how I’m feeling.”
“What do you mean?” He was distracted as he pet the content orange cat.
“I never said I liked the cat.”
He looked over at you, amusement in his eyes as his lips curled into a smile. “Don’t trie to lie, I see it all over your face. You like Dex.”
“What about when you said I hate you?”
Silence once again as he scrambled to respond in a way that didn’t come across as if he didn’t care. Because he definitely did. “You probably do after all that I’ve done, and I don’t blame you. I’d hate me too.”
“Oh, stop.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t hate you.”
He met your gaze, but quickly averted his eyes to look anywhere but at you. “You don’t? And, uh, why is that?”
You pondered over the question. Why is that? Was it because of the way he looked at you even as you laid there both looking and feeling miserable in pain? Was it because of his ocean blue eyes or his dark chocolate locks that you so badly wanted to run your fingers through? Was it because of his protective instinct that taught others how to do the same? Was it because, as he watched Desperate Housewives, he laughed both with you and at you, and allowed you to have fun in a time you never thought you would? Was it because he had brought your first smile to yourself in a long time to you? Or was it just because your hearts beat in sync?
“Honestly?” You asked as you pushed all of those thoughts down. “I don’t think it’s possible to hate your soulmate. Everything in you will just bring you back to them anyway.”
He nodded, his mesmerized eyes taking you in as if he were looking at a long lost lover. “Right,” he choked out, his voice a mix between a low, raspy tone and a whisper. “There will always be that pull.”
It wasn’t just the pull and you both knew it. Neither of you went to correct it, though, as Bucky moved a piece of hair behind your ear, knuckles trailing along your cheek and jaw as his hand returned to his side. The pull was so much more. It was an incomplete feeling that had you itching to find the only piece that could fit to fill the empty spot inside of you. It was a physical need, a feeling you often felt when you weren’t around Bucky. You weren’t sure if the spot was filled when you were around him, but it was better than when you were not, and you would take that any day over nothing.
You looked up at him from your laying position to find him already watching you. He was blinking more than he normally would, eyebrows furrowed as his mind raced behind his eyes. Your heart faltered.
“Bucky? You okay?”
He looked to the bed sheets, his eyes moving back and forth in thought hesitation. And then he was moving quickly, his lips coming toward yours. You sucked in a breath, wanting this moment to happen so bad, but knowing the circumstances surrounding it. And it was as if he felt the same thing, because in the same second you lips were about to touch, he moved his course of action. His eyes searched yours and then he leaned up slightly and placed the most loving kiss onto your forehead that you felt your eyes drift closed at the feeling.
Butterflies erupted into your stomach as his cologne further invaded your senses, leaving a wonderful smell behind as he pulled away. Your eyes stayed closed and when you finally built up enough courage to open them, you found him exactly where you had left him. His right hand was casually stroking Dexter’s back and his eyes were glued onto the next episode of Real Housewives.
You forced the butterflies to leave your stomach as you looked back to the television again in silence, but you couldn’t fight the smile that involuntarily began to form.
“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.
For Nurseydex week prompt: July 19th
Nursey, let’s hook you up!” Holster’s voice is half-lost in the pounding bass
that’s been shaking the Haus for the last two hours. “Yeah, bro, after that
filthy fuckin’ shot you netted tonight, you deserve it!” Ransom has got one arm
slung over Holster’s shoulder and the other over Nursey’s, and both his
captains are grinning at him in a way he knows usually leads to trouble.
“We know for
a fact that girl in your
“—Melissa,” Ransom supplies.
“Right, Melissa, is just waiting
for you to say go.”
Nursey tries to stifle his grimace. “Melissa’s nice, but I’m not
interested,” he says, sipping from his cup of tub juice. His eyes flit to Dex
instead as he joins the darkened mass of people dancing and grinding together a
few feet away.
“Come on, bro, you haven’t hooked up in weeks,” Ransom protests, and Nursey shoves at his head playfully.
“I’m chill, if I find someone I like I’ll go for it, but I’m good where I am.”
“All right, man,” Holster says, slapping his shoulder before stepping
back. “C’mon Rans, let’s go make sure Bitty hasn’t lost his shoes or some shit.”
Nursey appreciates their efforts, he does, but they’re wrong – he hasn’t
hooked up in over a year.
Hi! Are you taking prompts right now? If not, super sorry to bother you! But if you are, do you think you could write some fluffy nurseydex? I've been having a bad day and could use a pick me up. Thanks either way!
Hi! Could you maybe write a nurseydex comfort?? I’m a bit down rn, people keep bashing my hockey team just because we won
“I almost cried in front of three different advisors today,” Dex huffs, sitting down on the edge of his bed.
“Oh - um,” Nursey chokes out. He’s a little caught off guard - he certainly wasn’t expecting that response when he asked Dex how his day went.
“I didn’t actually cry,” Dex shrugs, as if that makes it better, “Thought about it, though.”
Nursey doesn’t know if he’s supposed to press for more information or let Dex be. They’ve been dating for a month, he’s still trying to feel their relationship out. He waits a beat, and when Dex doesn’t elaborate at all he can’t help himself from asking, “Why?”
(11 and 3 from the Super Sappy Prompts list: “I thought you didn’t want me” and “It’s always been you.”)
It’s not water, it’s ice. It’s a thousand needles of ice pricking at Dex’s skin. Soon they’ll pierce him, puncture his bursting lungs and turn him breathless, lifeless. Still, he swims on.
The current is fighting him. His own lungs are fighting him. His eyes fight, too, stinging, but he keeps them open, gleaning what light he can in the dark water. Later, he will think back and see only seconds of being alone in that darkness. Now, it’s minutes. An endless slow trudge of time as he turns and searches.
He remembers pulling off his flannel, stripping out of his jeans in the freezing night. He remembers kicking off his shoes. And then the plunge, the fevered dive into the water, the rush of his blood keeping him warm. And then, crashing down and through into this frozen limbo, one thought in mind. Where’s Nurse?