Work Text:
Derek Nurse is a procrastinator.
This was a fact as much as him having curly hair. Derek Nurse is a procrastinator. Full stop. No amendments.
When he was in high school and handing in a paper he frequently ran into his teacher who was on his way to collect from his drop box.
Now don’t think that just because he was a procrastinator that his work suffered. Doing poorly would probably force him to start and finish the assignment before the day it was handed out was up. Unfortunately for his work ethic he kept doing great. A sweet spot found with 3 hours to deadline, a fully charged laptop and a coffee from Annie’s.
And it’s not like he never tried to start at a reasonable time. Pace himself through it. His google history is riddled with tips on stopping procrastination, every Ted talk watched, and a drawer full of Coke bottle candies to bribe himself with.
It never works. Either he’s putting out terrible work and needs to recalibrate or he suddenly finds himself doing something else entirely.
He’s written an ode to almost everybody’s hands on the Samwell Men’s Hockey team. Bitty’s covered in flour. Ransom’s tapping his stick. Shitty’s rolling a joint. Lardo’s aiming a ball during beer pong. Dex’s throwing a punch. Dex’s angrily jabbing at his keyboard while doing homework. Dex’s fixing the drier. Dex’s lacing up his skates.
Fine, maybe he’s written an anthology of odes to Dex’s hands, but who could blame him they were nice hands. Strong and callused, with long fingers.
If he was being particularly honest with himself he could admit that another fact is that Derek Nurse is in love with William Poindexter. The thing is that he is rarely honest with himself. So, he squints at this fact in order to turn love into lust.
Lust he can handle. Chalk the whole ordeal up to sweating palms and his pants suddenly feeling a little too tight when sunlight catches red hair just so.
He’s a poet, he knows romance and the millions of meanings behind the backs of hands coincidentally touching when two people walk side by side.
He is also a college student on a queer friendly campus, he knows sex. Hands running up his leg in the flashing lights of a Kegster dancefloor. Lips feeling like they were made for the sole purpose of kissing. Discarded clothing like an interior design choice.
Sure, when he wakes up after having dreamt of crow’s feet around golden eyes and deep laugh lines around a dimpled smile it is hard to play his feelings off as purely lust. But, Derek Nurse is a procrastinator so he is able to not think about that until it is almost too late.
He hopes.
Regardless, these two established facts are the reason that Derek is standing in front of one of his best friend’s door. And they are the reason he is gripping a vague albeit embarrassing sonnet about the way that eyes meet over ice, over the aisle of a bus, over a breakfast table so hard that the paper is starting to crinkle.
He has a plan, it’s been in the making for at least a week and a half. Longer if he considered before he decided to put that plan into action, but either way it is well thought out. Step one was to determine what work he needed done- an English paper that he hadn’t started yet. Step two was to set a deadline- the upcoming Friday before they got on the bus for their next away game. Step three was to give Chowder the incriminating poem and instruct him not to read it unless Derek was unable to finish the goal he set by the deadline.
He takes a deep breath and raises his hand to knock. And stays frozen in time indefinitely because he’s procrastinating.
Well, not frozen in time indefinitely because a teal blur throws open the door after about 30 seconds. “Dude, I saw your shadow but I thought maybe Ransom and Holster were trying to play a prank on me.” Chowder starts talking as soon as he realizes that it’s a prankless Derek at his door.
All Derek can do is sort of nod, sort of shake his head. His fingers hurt as they unconsciously grip the paper even harder.
Chowder walks back into his room and flops down into his desk chair leaving the door open in a silent invitation. Derek’s feet lift and for a second, he’s not sure what direction they are going to take him but he ends up beside Chowder’s bed.
“Yo, C. I kinda have a favour to ask you.” Were his palms always this sweaty?
“Anything for you man.” Derek wishes he could sculpt so he could rightfully build a monument to the man in front of him.
“So, I have this problem,” at the crease that appears between the goalie’s eyebrows Derek backtracks, “nothing big I promise. I just have a paper due on Monday that I haven’t started yet. It’s important and it’s a big part of my grade.”
“Nursey, I’m not really sure how to help you but we can go to Founder’s now if you want to get started. Or some of the other CS kids yell at a rubber duckie when they’re stuck to figure out where they went wrong. I don’t have one but I’m sure I can find someone who does.” Screw it Derek is going to take a sculpture class just to learn how to immortalize Chris Chow.
“Chill,” it was unclear whether he wanted to direct that to himself or to Chowder. “I have a solution and that’s where the favour comes in. My course load is a little heavier than I anticipated this year. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I have a penchant for procrastinating which I can’t afford to do now. What I need from you is to hold me to a deadline. It won’t be time consuming or anything. I just need you to hang onto this poem I wrote. If I don’t have at least ten pages of my paper written by next Friday when we get on the roadie bus you need to read the poem. If I do have that finished, please don’t read the poem.”
Chowder looked at him with his head cocked to the side. Bitty would describe him as a puppy but Derek knew that his look was calculating. He was going to say no, he was going to laugh at Derek, he was going to take the poem and call a Haus meeting and read it to everyone, he was going t-
“Nursey! Stop catastrophizing,” Chowder’s knowing words stopped him dead in his tracks. “I was just thinking that you were going to give me a piece of paper torn out of your notebook to hold onto and not read. Which is fine until I’m looking for a notebook paper with my class notes on them and accidentally start reading your poem. Putting it in a sealed envelope might be better. Or there are programs where you upload it and if you don’t put in the correct password by a certain time it sends the uploaded file by email to someone.”
“That could work but then what would stop me from just entering the passcode even if I haven’t met my goal?”
“The honour system?”
“You highly underestimate how embarrassing this poem is.”
“Okay, how about I enter a passcode and then when you prove to me you met the deadline I give you the passcode.” Never mind taking a class he was going to commission Lardo to make a sculpture so he could do Chowder justice.
“That could work. The whole reason I set this up is because I know I can’t lie to you C.” With that he ended up with a lap full of goalie.
After a quick hug Chowder got up and grabbed his laptop. They picked the program that looked good because he could make an account and it allowed multiple deadlines at once. Chowder suggested that they start with one to see how it works. So, they set the recipient email as Chowder and Derek transcribed the poem into the message box because he didn’t want to save a document on Chowder’s laptop. His cheeks burned as he keyed in a maybe not as subtle line about the inherent passion behind eye contact during an argument.
The original reason he had chosen this poem was because it was vague enough that Chowder would know that he had a crush, probably on someone on the team, but not exactly on who. As he retypes it though he’s wondering if it was more apparent than he thought.
Once they were done, Nursey took up Chowder’s offer of heading to the library.
_/ \_
By the time Friday rolls around Nursey has entered the password into his ticking time bomb. His shoulders feel lighter and he even manages to get a nap in on the bus instead of scrambling to type words until his fingers cramp.
He also uploads two poems and a picture. One poem was short and set to the directions of starting a fire
1. Clear a space in your heart,
try to keep it small so his flame doesn’t destroy you,
let it get big anyways
2. Line the space with the words shared just between you,
whispered or yelled,
both are just yours
3. Place the small gestures and casual touches in the space as a platform,
a piece of pie saved,
or an arm thrown over your shoulder
4. Place smiles, sweetened coffees, and 2am texts as kindling
things that will easily catch fire,
after the tinder gets a spark
5. Light with his red hair or his hot temper
gradually add more,
fan the flames to create more heat
6. Begin imagining a future in a desired arrangement
hands in hands, lips on lips
sparks
7. Keep an eye on the flame, don’t let it get too big
keep it small,
keep it contained
8. Leave with a heart turned to ash
it was a fool’s errand
even when extinguished, hot embers started another flame
The other poem was cheesy and started off as a joke about the 1000 roaches or man in the attic debate and turned into how him and Dex have always been star crossed lovers on different sides. The picture is a candid of Derek and Dex that Holster had taken. He had gotten a look on his face right before he showed them the picture and said he accidentally covered the lens with his thumb. Later on in the night Holster came up to Derek and in a hurried whisper said I’m sending you the picture and then deleting it, you guys can tell the team whenever you’re ready. With confusion seeping into his body Derek had rushed to open his phone as soon as Holster had walked away. Understanding and embarrassment intermingled as he looked at the picture of Tango, slightly out of frame, explaining something to Derek and Dex. Dex, like a normal person was focused on Tango a beer in hand. Derek however, was staring at Dex like he was the only thing worth looking at. He was the embodiment of the heart eye emoji.
With his new deadlines in place Derek started to get pumped up for the game that night.
_/ \_
After a hard-fought win, the team headed back to their hotel room. It was too late and they had a kegster planned for the next night so they decided against a celebration in favour of sleeping.
The next morning Derek awoke to his alarm clock that he set 15 minutes early to prepare him to leave the warm comfort of his hotel bed. He reached out on the bedside table searching for his phone to silence it but he came up empty. He opened one eye to look for it and was met with a sleeping Dex across from him. He looked so peaceful that Derek almost forgot to keep looking for his phone. Only after “Shut it off, Nurse,” in Dex’s sleep husky voice forced him into action. And then it was only to memorialize this moment forever.
By the time his second and Dex’s first alarms had gone off Derek had gotten himself more under control. He had uploaded the poem to his anti-procrastination program and sent a picture of Te Ka from Moana to the SMH group chat with the caption “Dex this morning”.
When they were all ready to check out Derek and Dex headed down together with Dex trying to explain to Derek that he was not the embodiment of an angry lava goddess this morning. In the lobby they ran into Chowder who gave Derek a weird look before joining in on chirping Dex.
_/ \_
By the time the kegster had rolled around Derek had forgotten all about the weird look Chowder had given him. It was not until he was half of three sheets to the wind and ran into Chowder did he remember.
“C,” he stretched out the one syllable, “I see you put on your teal best.”
Chowder laughed and threw an arm around Derek “And I see you’ve lost your shirt.” Which, wait what? Derek looked down and he was indeed shirtless.
“I’m using my assets to get free drinks,” he joked while trying to remember the last time he was wearing a shirt.
“Oh, silly me, of course the free tub juice and beer here is outrageously priced.”
Derek just nodded solemnly until a smile broke out over both of their faces.
“Who is even on Nursey Patrol?” Chowder looked around for someone on the team tailing Derek but came up empty.
“Tango,” Derek was about 65% sure. “Maybe? I don’t know but I’m going to find Dex and make him take care of me.” Chowder gave Derek the same look he had in the hotel lobby. “What is that face supposed to mean?”
“Am I supposed to pretend I didn’t read it?” Chowder genuinely asked.
“My guy, I know it isn’t but what you’re saying are riddles.”
“The poem about basically how you wished you were Dex’s pillow, blanket and kinda weird but really sweet his morning breath.”
Derek thinks he might have gone into shock or something because instead of the heavy beat of a Beyoncé song all he hears is the Kill Bill sirens.
“W-what?”
“You missed a deadline obviously because along with the Moana reference that everybody else got this morning I got an ode to an asleep Dex.” All the alcohol that Derek had spent time and effort consuming left followed by a cold chill down his spine.
“No, that’s not possible I just uploaded it this morning. I didn’t even assign it a deadline yet. “
“That must be why then, if there is no deadline the program must assume that you’ve missed your deadline.”
“How did you even know it was about Dex?”
“Nursey,” Chowder said so softly.
Derek kind of wanted to cry, he also kind of wanted to scream, but mostly he wanted to go completely analogue for the rest of his life.
Before they could continue Dex walked up to them with a beer that Derek would bet money on was the same one he got handed when he entered. “Save me from Lardo, I heard she’s looking for her next victim and I don’t feel like getting defeated in front of all these people.”
“Why, got someone you want to impress?” The words were out of Derek’s mouth before he could stop them.
“Of course, Nurse. I’m always trying to impress Chow.” One side of Dex’s lips lifted in a half smile before morphing into a full blown one when he peeked over at Chowder’s own metal grin. “So, what are you guys talking about here?”
Chowder suddenly got a look of panic, he hated lying. Especially to his best friend. “I was just going to start talking about how I’m in the market for a typewriter.” Chowder visibly relaxed because by knowing about their previous conversation Derek’s statement wasn’t a lie.
“Hipster douche,” Dex replied with no bite at all.
“Bro, don’t be like that it’s his aesthetic,” Chowder chirped.
“I’m going to go find Lardo and volunteer you guys for a game of pong.” Derek mildly threatened. The trio laughed and talked for a little longer before Chowder announced he was going to go find Farmer.
“You’re not going to try to wheel anybody?” Derek asked totally casually with no other motive in mind but friendly curiosity.
“I was considering it but then Whiskey came up to me and told me that since you decided to take your shirt off he resigned from Nursey Patrol.”
“Ooh, harsh.”
“Well, he really said ‘Dex, Nursey just took his shirt off’ and I read the ‘I don’t want to deal with this mess of a human’ between the lines. So, I’m the reinforcements.”
Derek felt simultaneously happy and guilty about this turn of events. “At least tonight’s Nursey Patrol comes with eye candy,” Derek winked.
“Where?” Was the monotone reply as Dex looked over Derek’s bared abdomen seemingly unimpressed.
“Oh, Dexy had I not just been told that you rushed over to check on a shirtless me I would be heartbroken.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just let me know when I need to wrangle you a shirt for a walk back to the dorms.”
_/ \_
A few days after the kegster Chowder told Derek that he would still supply the passwords for the program but that he thought that Derek should change the recipient to Dex. That way there would be an actual penalty that motivated Derek to complete his work. After a few hours and a hastily made pros and cons list Derek agreed and Dex was now potentially on the receiving end of what for all intents and purposes constitutes a love confession.
Now, a week later, Derek Nurse had never in his entire life been so efficient and on top of his coursework.
He did get thrown a curveball today though. The poem he had submitted for early feedback since it’s not due until Thursday got rejected. The prompt had been to write a poem in response to another student’s poem from their previous assignment. The student had written a poem about a sailor whose ashes were scattered at sea and how the changing of the wave patterns represented stages of grieving. Derek had written a love letter to the sea from the sailor. Mostly because he could only picture Dex standing tall and strong on the deck of a boat. Derek’s professor thought that Derek’s poem didn’t fit the prompt because though it had basic elements like the sailor and the sea it didn’t have anything that could really be seen as a response to the poem. And sure, Derek understood that but he really liked the poem he submitted.
So, during class he emailed Chowder the poem attachment and a request to make a deadline on the program for that night. Then he allowed himself a half hour to wallow with an Annie’s coffee. And that’s where he is, tucked in a corner booth trying to find the right filter for his latte art when someone plops down on the bench seat and pushes a strawberry danish in front of him.
Startled, he looks up and that’s where he finds Dex, with his own blueberry muffin and a coffee.
“Uh, thanks,” Derek says unsure.
“Chowder said that you got a poem rejected in class or something and were totally bummed out about it. I was going to stop by Annie’s and grab you a coffee to cheer you up but here you are already with a coffee, so, danish.” Dex pushed the danish even closer to Derek.
Lately, it’s been harder to squint and turn love into lust. Made harder by the awkward caring that Dex does more frequently.
“Thanks,” it comes out a little breathy but if Dex notices he doesn’t mention it.
Dex sits with Derek and gives him what he needs, he let Derek vent when he wants and distracts him when he feels himself losing his chill. Before he knows it two hours have passed but still he makes no move to leave the booth or Dex.
Eventually both Derek and Dex’s phones buzz with a text from Bitty about being late for team dinner. The duo slowly make their way to the Haus.
At the Haus they run into Chowder who while giving Dex side eyes asks Derek if he needs the password yet.
Fear runs through Derek as he remembers he got Chowder to set up a deadline for him that he was nowhere close to completing. Checking his phone, he realizes he only has 45 minutes left. No way it’ll be enough time. Fortunately, the poem is about the sailors love for the sea. And not his love for his favourite sailor. Derek resigns himself to his fate and that he can never let that happen again.
Derek’s been hiding under his blanket since he checked the program which said the next time he is unable to enter in his password on time all archived items would be sent. He tried deleting everything that was archived but the program wouldn’t allow him. It would be fine though he would never miss a deadline again.
As the fear starts to give way to acceptance his phone lights up with three texts in a row. All from Dex. Suddenly his heart is in his throat. His hands shake as he unlocks his phone, he then quickly shuts his eyes as if it can save him from what Dex wrote. His phone buzzes one more time causing him to wonder why Dex needed four texts to break his heart.
The first text asks if Derek meant to email his poem to Dex. The second one is a screenshot of the first half of the poem,
I bruise easily,
Dark purples, deep blues, and fading yellows
The rocking of a boat is cohesive with that
Yet I spend my day getting bumped and bumping
To be on the sea
My truest of loves
I am a sailor in my blood
The only siren call I heed is a need to be at sea
I am not made up of stardust but of saltwater
I get landsick
When the earth doesn’t sway
Like a boat on choppy waters
The third text is Dex telling him he’s sorry that he’s not better at understanding the meaning behind the poem. The fourth states that he really likes the last part,
I bruise easily,
Dark purples, deep blues, and fading yellows,
I am the colours of the sea
Derek lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. It was okay, Dex didn’t read between the lines and realize that he had been the inspiration to this particular poem.
Trying to keep his chill persona in check he sends a text back to Dex,
lol prlly not enough lobster imagery for u
The fuck off Nurse he gets back oddly warms his heart.
_/ \_
Another kegster, another escaped Nursey Patrol, another manhunt for Dex.
There’s mistletoe everywhere which makes absolutely no sense because it is deep into January. It’s okay though because Derek saw Dex with a blue solo cup when he walked into the Haus, then a beer when he was talking to Bitty, and finally half an hour ago when he was heading to the bathroom he saw Dex with a red solo cup. With all this data compiled Derek concluded that Dex was letting loose and that he also wasn’t drunk after only 3 drinks over the span of four hours. Derek hoped that Dex was cutting loose enough that maybe he would humor him if he found Derek under the mistletoe. Even just a cheek kiss would make his night!
So, he might have accidentally on purpose lost Ollie by pointing out Wicks and not following. Without a tail he grabs another sickly-sweet tub juice but doesn’t down it like he usually would, he wants to be clear as can be if he happens to have a mistletoe rendezvous.
He’s searching for a shock of red hair and those glorious shoulders holding up a wall somewhere that he almost walks right past Dex in the middle of a group of people he may or may not recognize.
He sneaks closer to the group not wanting to ruin the relaxed slump of Dex’s shoulders or the easy smile on his face.
“What about you Will,” a brunette girl to the left of Dex starts to ask, “who are you waiting to meet under the mistletoe?” Derek wonders if Dex realizes that she’s blatantly flirting with him. Nobody needs to touch your arm that much in one sentence, Derek tries to telepathically tell Dex. Even if they are very touchable arms.
Derek takes a big gulp of his tub juice.
Dex rolls his eyes but the smile never leaves his lips. Jealously streaks through Derek, he considered that his look. The fondly annoyed eye roll was aimed at Derek more often than not. And now Dex was just giving it away like it was going out of style. The jealousy could also do with the fact that the girl is gorgeous. Half of her curly brown hair pulled back to show her heart shaped face. Deep, honey brown eyes framed with long black eyelashes. Deep red lips that would leave lipstick stains over Dex’s freckles. She was wearing a t-shirt tucked into a short skirt and Derek was met with an expanse of long tanned legs. Her head reached at just about Dex’s collarbone and Derek imagined her kissing it like he has imagined himself doing before. She had soft curves and a waist that looked like it was made to be held by Dex’s hands.
“Honestly, I think the whole mistletoe in January thing is kind of dumb,” a weight both lifted and placed on Derek’s shoulders as Dex said this. So, he wouldn’t kiss Derek but he also wouldn’t kiss the prettiest person Derek has ever laid eyes on next to William Poindexter himself. “But,” as if there was a God Dex continued to speak, a smirk taking over his features, “if I ran into Ransom under the mistletoe I am only human.” Laughs rang out around him.
And okay, Derek knew Dex was bi, but hearing him say a guy’s name out loud kind of validated that he had a chance. That fact that it was Ransom’s name and not Derek’s own was, he’ll admit, less than desirable.
The girl next to him frowned, before turning it into a more played out pout. “So, if I’m stuck under the mistletoe and you were there you wouldn’t help me out?” Her giggle was probably cute but to Derek it was akin to nails on a chalk board.
“I’d kiss your cheek to get you unstuck. Don’t worry Mikaela, your lipstick would clash with my hair anyways.” The group laughed again.
The girl, Mikaela, floundered and Derek took this as his opportunity to enter the conversation. “Do my ears deceive me or are people actually laughing at your jokes Sexy Dexy?”
Dex lightly slugged him in the shoulder before throwing his amazingly sculpted arm around it. “Meet anyone under the mistletoe Nurse?”
Derek was thriving having all Dex’s attention turned onto him. He was a sunflower helpless to the biological processes that make him seek Dex who was the physical embodiment of the sun. All bright and hard to look at too long. “Not yet but I’ve kept my lip balm handy all night just in case.” Derek carefully applies the aforementioned lip balm and then purses and points to his lips, “see, kissable.”
He hoped Mikaela saw the fondly annoyed eyeroll directed at Derek and understood that she wasn’t special.
The guy next to Derek started to make introductions around the group but Derek wasn’t really paying attention he was thinking of a way to get out of this group but still have Dex’s arm around him. Eventually though, it happened on its own, the group dispersed leaving Dex and Derek alone.
“Thanks man,” Dex said puzzling Derek.
“For what?”
“Oh, I thought… never mind.”
“No dude, seriously for what?”
“I just saw you standing there and I figured you got second hand embarrassment from how I was handling the whole Mik situation. Thought you were trying to put me out of my misery.”
Derek tried really hard to fight the grin that was trying to take over. “Nah man. I thought you handled it well. Her lipstick really would’ve clashed with your hair.”
Dex slugged Derek in the arm again but this time stole his cup of tub juice taking a long draw before handing it back.
At that moment Derek began to believe in small victories because his lips touched where William Poindexter’s lips touched and if that isn’t as close to a kiss as he’ll be getting tonight than he’s deluding himself.
_/ \_
To be honest, Derek has kind of gotten into the swing of things. He still waits a little longer than he should to start assignments but he’s never sweating it out to the last minute before he needs Chowder to enter the password. Hockey has been going great, him and Dex connecting like they’re reading each other’s minds. And speaking of Dex, ever since that day at Annie’s they’ve been spending more and more time together. Just the other day they had a study session together in the library for a few hours. After they had parted ways Dex stopped by Derek’s dorm to return a notebook he accidentally grabbed and ended up staying to watch a movie.
But, when you’re at the top the only place left to go is down. In theory Derek knows this. In practice? He didn’t expect to fall so hard… literally.
He’s a hockey player which translates to having hopped over the boards at least a million times since he was tall enough to make it. To be fair he would never have tried to hop over the gate had he known it was unlatched. The momentum of the gate swinging caused his four foot drop to be brutal. His arm had made a loud snapping sound that he originally thought was his stick breaking before he fully registered the pain. He had been busy preening as Will complemented his goal he didn’t realize until it was too late.
That’s another thing that happened, he started mentally referring to Dex as Will. He was so far gone that he couldn’t close his eyes and not know it was love, never mind squint.
The culmination of these two events leave him with more poems about Dex saved as audio notes in his phone and later uploaded to his anti-procrastination program.
Unfortunately, it also leaves him with half the typing speed due to his casted arm. Derek however did not factor this in when he waited longer than what would be considered smart to start his assignment. As the minutes ticked by and he didn’t see an end in sight he checked his desk drawer to see how long he could live off of his stash of coke bottle candies until he eventually had to leave his room. He gives himself a day.
Not enough, maybe he can get Chowder to bring him some protein bars.
Or, he can move to a place where there is no ice and therefore no way to fall in love with your Dman.
As the time until the detonation of his life approached Derek texted both Will and Chowder sorry and then promptly shut off his phone. He turned off the lights and tucked himself into bed tightly to watch his computer, open to the program page, seal his fate. He figures that children in the 70s were taught to hide under their desk during a nuclear strike so his covers would offer the same amount of pseudo protection.
You were unable to meet your deadline, as a penalty all archived items have been sent to your listed recipient(s).
What an oddly formal way to announce a death sentence Derek thinks to himself.
The light from the moon soon turned into the light from the sun but Derek had neither moved nor slept. He could wait it out, he would be the first one to practice and on the ice before Will even began his walk to Faber. He would be in his civvies before Dex could get a towel through his damp hair. He would avoid the Haus, and Annie’s, and Jerry’s, and both Stop and Shops. He would go to the dining hall at weird hours and stick to a door for the possibility of a quick exit. He would not answer whoever was knocking on his door.
The knock came again, louder this time. Derek held his breath, trying not to make a single sound. The knocking didn’t come again. Derek let out a sigh.
Until he heard keys being inserted into his lock and the handle being turned. He should’ve barricaded his door. He thinks they might have done that in cases of nuclear strikes too.
He can’t help but smile at the determined expression on Will’s face. He really is so handsome. He quickly snaps his eyes shut, maybe Will will think he’s asleep and leave.
“Nurse, cut the shit.” He doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s working hard to make thing appear normal.
Derek wishes he were mad. Will’s anger burns bright and quick. It’s fitting that he’s covered in constellations of freckles because his anger is a supernova. This is unfamiliar territory and Derek is not an explorer.
“Oh, sup Dex,” he shoots for chill and lands south of terrified.
“Sup? That’s all you got?”
“Sup, why are you in my room. How did you get in my room?”
“I requested a wellness check on you and your RA granted it after I showed her the text saying sorry followed by my 80 replies and silence from you.”
“I’m all well, you can go.”
“Jesus Christ Derek.” He said Derek, he called him Derek, maybe there was hope. If he ignored the resigned tone that Will delivered his name with.
“Just talk. I’m sure you’ve read everything I had to say.”
“First of all, never do that to me or to Chowder again. You can’t just text someone sorry and disappear off the face of the Earth. We were worried about you. Chowder had to convince me to wait until morning because a pissed off RA would not have helped me.
“Second of all, Chowder texted me right before I got that email and said don’t be mean. Which, I know our past but I’m a little offended. So here I am trying my best not to be mean while still getting my point across.”
Will kneeled down in front of where Derek’s head rested on his pillow.
“But I guess Chowder was right to tell me not to be mean because you are an idiot. Like world’s biggest dumbass. I’m going to call Guinness so they can add the record of the world’s most oblivious man,” Derek was starting to get offended. Could Will really not just have ripped off the band-aid and left. He actually had the audacity to criticize Derek for being in love with him. “After I do this though.”
With that Will leaned in and kissed Derek soundly on the lips. By the time Derek realized what was happening and making the conscious effort to kiss back Will was pulling away.
“You dweeb, I have been in half in love with you since we laced up the first time in Faber.”
“And fully?” The question is out of his mouth before he can stop it.
“Fully, since two days before I told you I was bisexual in the hopes of you asking me out.”
“Oh.” Okay, Derek concedes, he is a dweeb. “That’s kind of embarrassingly long.”
A surprised laugh bubbles out of Will. “Says the guy who basically wrote a whole book about my hands.”
“Probably two, I didn’t upload them all.”
Will leans in quickly and steals a kiss before maneuvering away from Derek’s reaching hands.
“I really had to find out that you reciprocated my feelings through a program.”
“Will, to be fair, I thought it was unrequited. I don’t know if reciprocal feelings would’ve helped me to not procrastinate.”
This time when Will kisses him he takes his sweet time.
At that moment Derek no longer began to believe in small victories because William Poindexter was in love with him too and if that wasn’t like winning the Stanley Cup and the Hart Trophy in the same year he was deluding himself.