right, but what about whiskey/tango coming out to dex b/c they think he's queer and will support them and dex having his internal sexuality panic right then and there
Dex dropped his backpack beside the couch with a thud. He was normally more careful with it, but he’d been awake for the past 27 hours with no sleep, he’d only barely met the deadline for his Gender Studies essay, and Professor Rezendes had decided to hold back his class. For an extra 20 minutes.
The only thing that Dex wanted to do was fall into a short coma, but sometime around 3 a.m. Tango had texted him asking if they could talk. And his 3 a.m. self thought that it would be an excellent idea. 2 p.m. Dex, however, was at the level of sleep deprivation that put him dangerously close to either homicide or insanity.
Still, he did love the tadpoles.
“What did you guys want to talk with me about again?” He asked, grabbing a stray snickerdoodle from the plate on the coffee table, actually looking towards the Tadpoles for the first time and-
Okay. So he had at least half of an idea about why Tango wanted to talk.
They were sprawled out on the couch, Tango tucked into Whiskey’s side. Dex can’t say that he’d never suspected anything (Tango was about as close as you could get to being an open book), but he’d always thought it was one-sided. Given the lovestruck way that Whiskey was watching Tango right now, apparently not.
Tango squinted expectantly at him. “Is it not super obvi-”
“We’re dating.” Whiskey interrupted, side-eyeing Tango, who looked back at his boyfriend with a ‘no shit, Sherlock’ expression.
He’d totally called it, but Dex still stared blankly at them for a moment, processing the fact that the two freshman he and Nursey had practically adopted had somehow fallen in love, that he was watching his children grow up (damn he felt like Bitty), before his face split into a smile.
“Congrats, dudes,” He said, flopping down across from them in an empty arm chair, before taking a slightly more serious tone. “Also, like, thanks for trusting me with this moment.”
Whiskey snorted. “Bitty said the exact same thing.”
“Shitty taught us well,” Dex shrugged. “Speaking of, um, I should probably know who you’re out to, so I don’t accidentally say something to someone that you guys aren’t comfortable with.”
“Just you and Bitty,” Tango answered cheerfully. “We don’t know when we’ll be ready to tell the others, but we felt like we could tell you two.”
Ha, he thought, so the Tadpoles trusted me more than Nursey. Nursey can suck my ass they think I’m more- wait what?
“That’s totally cool and I respect that,” Dex asked, “But like, why not Nursey?”
Tango fidgeted a little with the sleeve of Whiskey’s shirt. “Well, we weren’t sure if he’d be totally, um, chill, with us dating. And like, also, you know…”
He did not know, and it must have shown on his face.
Whiskey rolled his eyes. “Also, you know, Nursey’s not queer. We figured it would just be easier to come out to you and Bitty for now.”
Dex’s entire world seemed to shift on its axis.
“I’m not gay,” he snorted incredulously. “Like, I’m glad that you guys felt comfortable enough to come out to me, but why would you even think that?”
Tango looked quizzically at him. Whiskey raised a single, well-manicured, judgmental eyebrow. None of them spoke.
“Are you sure?” Tango asked at length, still obviously doubtful. “Are you sure you’re not at least a little gay?”
“Um, yeah?” Dex said. “I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed if I was into dudes by now.”
“But what about your crush on Chris Pine?” Tango asked.
“And your sexuality rants in the dining hall?” Whiskey added.
“And how you always get onto the Lax-douches for saying no homo?”
Dex’s brain almost short-circuited from a combination of exhaustion and shock. It almost felt like he was being fucking interrogated or something. He took a slow deep inhale before he started explaining.
“First off, I wouldn’t say I’m gay for Chris Pine. He’s cute, but, like, even if I were gay I don’t think I’d be into him. He’s twice my age. And I rant about gender and sexuality stuff because Shitty made me promise to ‘keep the tradition alive’ when he left for Harvard and said that he trusted me, as, and I quote, ‘the angriest, most passionate motherfucker on the team’ to carry on his legacy. It’s the same reason I get onto the Lax Bros. Fuck those dudes.”
The silence was somewhere between awkward and understanding. Dex could practically see the way the gears were turning in Tango’s head. His thoughts must’ve settled after a second or two though, because Tango’s 1000-volt smile returned.
“Sorry for assuming, Dex,” He said. “We should’ve known better. It was nice of you to take it in stride, though. I knew we could count on you.”
Dex smiled back, exhausted and relieved, but still glad that Tango and Whiskey felt comfortable around him. “No problem dude, we all jump to conclusions sometimes. You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff Nursey used to think about me.”
Tango’s eyes widened comically, “No! Really? What did he-”
A buzzer went off in the kitchen, piercing and annoying. Tango’s nose wrinkled and Dex almost flinched at its sound.
“Give me a second, I told Bitty I wouldn’t let his pie burn.” Tango said, disentangling himself from his boyfriend. Whiskey watched him leave, his eyes following his boyfriend all the way to the kitchen, but as soon as the door shut his eyes were on Dex.
“Are you fucking with me? With the gay thing?”
Dex was halfway between laughing and pounding his head on the table.
“I already told you guys that I’m not gay. Jesus, calm down.”
Whiskey leaned forward. “Then why are you always looking at Nursey like you want to fuck him senseless, move into the suburbs, and then adopt ten kids with him?”
He scoffed, “I don’t-”
It was like several things clicked at once.
“I’m not into Nursey,” Dex rebutted with no actual force at all.
Whiskey raised both well-manicured, judgmental eyebrows at him this time.
“I’m not. I’m not into Nursey. I would’ve noticed or, like…” Dex trailed off as shock set in.
Whiskey leaned back, nodding slightly.
“Oh,” Dex said quietly. “Fuck.”
Whiskey only hummed in solidarity. Distantly, Dex could hear Tango knock something over in the kitchen. Or maybe several somethings.
Whiskey sighed. “I’m going to go help him, but you-” he said with a pointed look- “should probably go get some sleep. You look like you’re about to pass out or something.”
Dex shook himself into being awake and functional enough to process that. “Yeah, sounds good.”
He grabbed his bag off of the floor, but Whiskey grabbed his shoulder before he could leave.
He almost looked like he had no idea what to say. “Dude, honestly just chill. You can figure everything out when you don’t look like death. I probably- shit, we probably shouldn’t have gone all Spanish Inquisition on you when you look like death. No offense or anything. Also Bitty’s gone for the weekend, so you might as well crash in his room.”
Dex sighed, practically sobbing at the thought of getting some sleep and just not thinking about
how in love he was with his best friend anything. “Yeah, I get you. I’ll just.. go crash there now.”
Whiskey let go of him gently, as if he was afraid he would tip over.
“Cool.” He said, then looked over his shoulder towards the kitchen. “I gotta go help with whatever that was.”
Dex nodded, already halfway in the hallway. He wanted to sleep so bad, but he couldn’t stop thinking
God, he was so fucked.