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.”
Summary: Just like his freckles and bowlegs, Dean’s slight pudge has always been a part of himself that he’s never felt completely comfortable with. After a few miserable days of unsuccessful dieting and choking down rabbit food, Cas reminds him exactly how beautiful he is.
“You’re getting kinda chubby!”
Charlie makes this remark lightly, offhandedly, as she passes by Dean on the way to breakfast that morning: Dean had been stretching his arms overhead in a yawn so that his cotton shirt rode up over his stomach, which Charlie takes the opportunity to poke.
Startled, he looks down just in time to see the disconcerting way in which her fingertip sort of smushes into the soft, freckly flesh.
Dean halts in his tracks, blinking comprehensively. “Wait, what?” is all he can think to say.
Charlie, who’d been nonchalantly continuing on her way down the hall, turns to look at him. “Well, you don’t have to sound so offended about it,” she laughs. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way or anything!”
Dean folds his arms defensively. “Then what did you mean, Charles?”
“First of all, I answer only to Charlie, Ms. Bradbury, or the Illustrious Queen of Moondoor. Next, I just meant you put on a couple pounds. Maybe getting a bit of a tummy. It’s no big deal.”
Dean looks comprehensively down at his stomach. Now that he thinks about it, he has been eating more these days – he’s been going through sort of a “nesting period” during his relationship with Cas: lots of baking pies, burgers, etc. He didn’t think it was noticeable.
Taking note of the gravity of his expression, Charlie laughs, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “You don’t have to look so glum about it! It’s cute.”
Dean glowers at her, tugging self consciously at his t-shirt. “M’not cute,” he mutters grouchily. “I’m a warrior.”
Charlie laughs again. “Alright, warrior. Hurry up and take care of your morning breath – Kevin’s making waffles again!”
With that, Charlie skips off down the hall, leaving Dean to steep in his juices. He lets Charlie laugh it off, of course – he knows she didn’t mean any harm – but the fact is, Dean’s always known he’s had a little bit of pudge around his midsection, and he’s always been the slightest bit insecure about it. Just like his freckles and bowlegs, it’s one of the things about himself that he’s never particularly liked.
His one solace was convincing himself that these features weren’t as noticeable to everyone else as they are to him. Now, that seems to have changed.
Dean pulls up the rim of his shirt, noting sourly the way in which his pudge protrudes slightly over the waistband of his pajama pants.
Zimbits AU where your world is black and white until you hear your soulmate laugh
Jack knows his parents’ story off by heart.
Bob had been on the ice at an away game. The crowd was screaming; it was overtime. Things had been a bit tense.
And then Bob had put a puck in the net of the opposition and that was it. The disappointed home audience had fallen into a quiet grumble after some polite clapping. Many hands were slapped on Bob’s back as the team skated towards the edge of the ice. Bob had been just about to leave the rink, and then-
A laugh. A snorting, wonderful laugh, and his world filled with color.
He had frozen where he stood, ears caught on the sound of that laugh and the voice that followed.
“I told you, didn’t I? No one’s got it like Bad Bobby Z!”
It was his turn to let out a laugh and he did, with gusto. His voice boomed so loud it had seemed to reverberate around the arena, every head swiveling to the source of the noise.
Every time he told that story, Bob swore blind he heard his soulmate’s gasp in the ensuing silence. Alicia would roll her eyes fondly, stating that she did not gasp, thank you very much, and that the dreadful nickname she’d called him had been popular among hockey fans at the time.
Whatever the truth, they’d introduced themselves moments later and were married within the year. It was like that, with soulmates. Instantaneous.
Jack’s not heard that story since before the Draft. He knows people think if he’d found his soulmate before- before, he wouldn’t have done it. But people tend to over romanticize things out of habit. In the end, soulmates and laughter and colors had very little to do with how he ended up here.
It all started in the pre-season, as most things do. The Falconers don’t know much about Jack Zimmermann, (“He has said 3 non-hockey related words in all the time I have known him. Two of them were ‘eh’.” - Snowy) but they do know one thing: He is. Always. On. His. Phone. Lunch break, before skate, after skate, texting, talking. Tater chirps him about his girlfriend, but Tater chirps everyone about everything always. So, most of the guys on the team just leave Zimmboni to his own devices.
Then, one day before morning skate, Jack walks into the dressing room and says, ever so casually,