The wedding is beautiful. The bride and groom figurines on the cake are little hockey players.
Lardo looks amazing. Shitty is wearing an actual suit. Jack is his best man.
Bitty brought a thousand of those travel-sized tissue packets, just in case. Bitty has also been practicing his catching skills because he is gonna get that bouquet he will check you if need be.
Lardo walks down the aisle. Chowder is already sobbing, like, super loud. Shitty has this look on his face, bright and a little crazy like he might start laughing or throwing up or both at any second, because how can one person handle all of this happiness at once?
They stand in front of the priest. Shitty takes Lardo’s hands. She gives him a quick, sideways smile and quirks an eyebrow, silently asking him if he’s gonna cry at his own wedding like a loser, as if she wasn’t just breathing heavily into a paper bag half an hour ago.
Like, right now. (spoilers: I can’t believe it.) It’s hard to keep everything under wraps, so I posted some sketches from upcoming comic pages…I also realize that I kinda post everywhere, so definitely follow my Instagram and Twitter!
a/n: this is loosely inspired by that scene from the
webcomic Always Raining Here because i read the whole thing a couple of
nights ago and let me tell you, there were feelings. enjoy!
“Eat shit, Nurse,” Dex said, taking another swig of his
beer. “I told you that you didn’t stand a chance.”
“No fair, man. I totally would have won if you hadn’t
blue-shelled me there at the end,” Nursey grumbled. He set down the Wii remote
and got to his feet, trying to figure out how drunk he was. No dizziness or
major balance fuckery, it seemed, but his head definitely felt kinda fuzzy. Now
was probably a good time to start chugging some water; he still had homework to
do later. He went to fish his water bottle out of his backpack.
“I only blue-shelled you because you blue-shelled me the last lap,” Dex said. “I won that
fair and square.”
“Psh. If I were sober—”
“Dude, you only had three shots. You’re 6’2”. You’re fine.”
“Yeah, but you onlyhad, like, a beer and a half, so
between the two of us, I’m definitely
the more impaired one here.”
Dex rolled his eyes. “Just admit I won. Stop being such a
“Well maybe you’re a sore
“I know you’re an English major, but ‘sore winner’ is not a thing.”
Nursey shook his head in mock outrage. “You come into my house—”
“Your house? This is my
dorm room, Nurse,” Dex laughed. “You’re in my
dorm room, playing on my Wii,
drinking my alcohol.”
“…Touché,” Nursey admitted, returning to his spot next to
Dex on Dex’s couch. He was probably sitting a little closer to Dex than was
strictly necessary. He could try to blame the shots for that, but like Dex
said, he was a 200-pound hockey player. Three shots of Fireball spaced out over
the last hour really wasn’t much for someone his size. If he hadn’t been a city
boy with no driver’s license, he could probably still legally drive.
The real problem, Nursey thought as he glanced at Dex out of
the corner of his eye, wasn’t the alcohol—it was his stupid crush on his
attractive yet probably tragically straight teammate. But that wasn’t really
something he liked to dwell on.
a/n: sorry, this is two days late, but it’s also almost 3k, so…. hopefully that makes up for the tardiness? also! please note that this fic doesn’t have anything to do with ngozi’s short comic, wingman. your characters are safe. content warning for underage alcohol usage.
This is definitely not what Dex signed up for.
He’d expected Nursey Patrol to involve limiting Nursey’s
shots and keeping him from dancing on tables, which, okay, would have sucked,
but this is honestly not much better.
“Soooo, have you met Dex?” Nursey says for the third time
this night, like imitating Neil Patrick Harris is still funny. He’s dragged Dex
over to yet another group of female athletes that he’s going to have to do his
best to avoid for the next three years of his college career. Nice.
“Hi,” Dex says awkwardly. “I’m Dex.”
“Pssh, I just said that,” Nursey says, slinging an arm over
Dex’s shoulder and leaning on him only a little more heavily than he might have
done sober. “He’s usually a lot brighter than this, ladies. He’s a CompSci major—super
smart with computers and shit. Plus all that typing means he’s good with his
fingers, if you know what I mean. Just look at those hands—”
“Okay, that’s enough, Nurse. Sorry, you guys, um. Bye.”
He pulls Nursey away from the girls and—fuck, he’s pretty
sure one of them is in his Stats class, dammit.
Nursey stumbles behind him obediently, letting Dex drag him over to the
kitchen. Dex fills Nursey a glass of water and Nursey drinks it dutifully,
standing next to the fridge.
“Okay, so remind me why you’re trying to humiliate me in
front of half of Samwell’s female population?” Dex demands when Nursey finishes
“‘M not humiliating you,” Nursey insists, then waggles his
ridiculous eyebrows. “I’m trying to get you laid.”