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They're in bed, and it’s late, and Will is tired enough that at first, he thinks he misheard it. He freezes, and replays in his head the words Nursey just said. What’s a sentence similar enough to “I love you” that Will’s stupid, love-addled brain could have interpreted it wrong? I… wuv food? Aye, tough mood?
Will is still running through options, none of which make sense—he’s not the English major here, okay; leave him alone—when he realizes that Nursey’s gone all tense where they're pressed together. A moment after Nursey raises his head from Will’s chest, though he doesn’t make eye contact.
“Did… uh, did you hear me?” he asks quietly.
“No,” Will says, because probably he hadn’t.
Nursey drops his head back down. “Oh.” He sounds relieved, and Will is too, because now they’ll clear up this misunderstanding, and then— “I love you.”
This time, it’s unmistakable. But, what?
“What?” Will says out loud.
There’s a pause.
“You don’t have to say it back yet,” Nursey adds after a beat. “If you’re not comfortable.”
What the fuck is he talking about?
“I— what?” Will says again. “Say what back?”
Nursey sits up, careful not to fall off the twin bed—Nursey’s—they're sharing. “Babe, how much did you drink at the kegster?” he asks.
“Like half a can of beer,” Will snaps, because he’s not the one acting weird here. “You were there the whole time.” He sits up too, because it’s weird to have an argument lying down.
“So why are you—” Nursey starts, then restrains himself. When he continues, it’s in the pointedly-calm tone he’s been using lately when he doesn’t want to argue: “I feel confused right now. I don’t know why you’re acting so shocked. And because I was pretty vulnerable with you and that wasn’t reciprocated, I feel hurt.”
“Wait,” Will says. He’s having his first real thought since Nursey said I love you. “Wait, Nursey, are—are we dating?”
It’s a dumb question. It’s a dumb, stupid question, and Will feels himself turning red as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Obviously they aren’t dating; Will would know if they were dating; Will has spent six months wishing that they could be dating, knowing it won’t happen because Nursey just doesn’t see him that way, which is fine; Will’s going to take what he can get, for as long as he can get it, and that means he has to stop being weird, because now that he’s thinking about it, it’s pretty clear that Nursey had meant “I love you” in a bro way, a friendly way, a friends-who-hook-up-sometimes way, because Samwell Hockey is just like that, and Will’s just showed his hand, that he’s thinking about Nursey in this random, irrelevant context; and he opens his mouth to apologize and/or change the subject when Nursey says, “Yes?”
Will stares.
“Yes?” he repeats, dumbly.
It’s dark in the room—it’s way past midnight—but Will’s eyes have adjusted enough that he can clearly see Nursey’s face start to fall as he clocks whatever expression Will is making.
“Did… do you not want us to be?” Nursey asks after a minute, when it’s become clear that Will isn’t going to contribute more.
“I,” Will says, and stops. “I don’t—are you sure?”
“About what?”
“That we’re—“ Will can’t say it; he flaps a hand instead.
“That we’re dating?” Nursey asks. “Yeah, Will, I’m pretty fucking sure.”
Will swallows, and the silence lingers. Nursey is starting to look incredulous.
“Wait, what do you think has been going on?”
Oh god.
He ventures, “I thought we were hooking up?”
Which is a terrible thing to say to someone who thinks you’re dating, but luckily Nursey looks too bemused to be upset.
“You thought we were hooking up?”
“We are hooking up,” Will says.
Nursey’s mouth is starting to twitch. “Yeah, but, like, Will.”
He reaches out and catches Will’s left hand with his right, and Will feels himself instinctively relax at the familiarity of the gesture as Nursey smooths his thumb against Will’s knuckles.
“Yeah?” Will says, remembering after a moment that they were kind of arguing.
“I literally don’t even know where to start.” Nursey shakes his head, thinks for a moment, then raises their clasped hands. “Like, if you didn’t think we were dating, what would this be about?”
Will shrugs. “Friends hold hands.” When Nursey opens his mouth to argue, he adds, “Chowder holds my hand all the time!”
“Okay,” Nursey says, “but he doesn’t sleep in your bed.”
“We’re in your bed right now,” Will points out, just to be a dick.
Nursey rolls his eyes.
“See,” Will says, “you think I’m annoying.”
“I know you’re annoying,” Nursey corrects, and leans over to kiss Will’s cheek. “Doesn’t change the fact that this is my longest-lasting relationship.”
“I don’t think it counts as a relationship if I didn’t know I could break up with you.”
Nursey shoots him an unimpressed look. “We had a date night last Friday. I got you a Valentine’s Day card. The fact that you didn’t realize is your problem.”
“That was a date?” Will says, hoping he doesn’t sound as stunned as he feels. “You said you had a voucher that was going to expire.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I didn’t want you to do your whole thing over me paying.”
“Oh,” Will says. It does explain the suit jacket. And the candles. And the way Nursey had kissed him after, slow and deliberate, like all of this meant something to him.
“Seriously,” Nursey says, smiling at him a little. “I call you ‘babe’ in front of the whole team. What did you think was going on?”
Will’s head feels slow with the effort of going back over the last six months: rearranging, reframing, reindexing. He makes an effort to answer the question: “I thought it was a joke.”
“What?” Nursey’s smile slowly falls away. “What would the joke there even be?”
Will doesn’t really want to go into it. “I dunno,” he mumbles, “it could be ironic or something.”
“What, because the idea of us dating is so ridiculous?”
Fuck. Will can’t read Nursey’s tone at all, and he’s starting to wish he hadn’t said anything. But it would be worse not to explain now.
“Kinda, yeah,” he admits unwillingly. “I mean, I’m me, and you’re—you know, you.”
“I’m me?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Like, you’re hot. And smart. And everyone likes you. You could date anyone.”
Nursey’s expression cracks open with relief, and his shoulder sag. “Oh, you meant it in a good way. Dude, you had me going for a moment there.”
“What did you think I was going to say?” Will asks. Then: “Don’t answer that.”
Nursey laughs. “Relax, man. I don’t think there was anything specific. You just had a weird look on your face.”
Will squints at him, because he sounds like he’s lying. He wouldn't be so relieved now—wouldn't have been so freaked out earlier—if he hadn't had 'anything specific' in mind. But Will plays out the conversation that might follow if he pointed this out and decides to let it slide. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and mostly he just wants to lay down and stop talking so he can process this whole conversation in peace. (And cuddle Nursey, maybe. So sue him; they’ve been apparently dating for months. Will deserves it.)
Nursey seems to somehow interpret all that from Will’s face, because he says, more softly than before, “We should definitely talk about this. All of this. But we can do that tomorrow.”
Will nods a few times. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
He’s not quite ready for the smile Nursey offers him then, or for the matter-of-fact way Nursey kisses him, then resettles against him, his head on Will’s chest. Will puts an arm around him automatically, deciding that yeah, this is nicer now that he doesn’t feel like it’s all moments from being taken away. Nursey falls asleep right away—or at least stops talking, which is basically the same thing—but Will finds himself staring up at the ceiling, unable to close his eyes. He can’t believe Nursey thinks they're dating. He can’t believe Nursey has thought they were dating, for months now, while Will was torturing himself over the ethics of having sex with someone without their knowing the extent of his feeling.
Except that Nursey knew how he felt all along. He didn’t even realize that Will was trying not to be obvious about liking him—that’s how bad Will has been at this whole pining thing.
Will probably shouldn’t find that as comforting as he does.
It’s just—he’s never been that good at expressing himself. He’s been trying, at Samwell, for the team; he’ll try harder now, for Nursey, for their—can he say relationship? fuck he wants to say relationship; he’s definitely going to say relationship—but even if (when) he messes up, Nursey still gets him.
And Nursey—Nursey loves him, apparently. Will kind of can’t believe it. Nursey’d said he loves him, and—and shit, Will hadn’t even said it back. He somehow forgot, in all the confusion: speaking of messing up. He can tell him tomorrow, of course, but that’s somehow too far away.
Will keeps his voice soft when he says, “Hey, I love you too.”
Nursey doesn’t react. Probably asleep, then.
Will lets out a slow breath. “I love you,” he says again, because he’s allowed. “I love you so much.”
Nursey hums, so quietly that Will isn’t sure for a moment whether he’s awake. Then he raises his head slightly, putting his chin on Will’s chest so he can make sleepy eye contact.
“Called it,” he says, in a voice that’s too tired to be properly smug.
Will smiles back despite himself. “Yeah, you kinda did.”
“Nice,” Nursey says, and puts his head back down.
Will is impossibly, improbably lucky. He’s not going to question it right now, though.
A minute later, Nursey says, “Hey, Will?”
Will’s hand slows down where he’d been rubbing slow circles into Nursey’s back. “Hm?”
“No, keep doing that,” Nursey mumbles—Will stifles a smile and does. “I wanna ask you something. A question.”
His stomach tightens. “Okay.”
Nursey pauses meaningfully, clearing his throat slightly. “Will you be my boyfriend?”
Will stills, then rolls his eyes when he feels more than hears Nursey laugh.
“I’ll think about it,” he says, aiming for acerbic but probably hitting ‘smitten.’ “If you shut up and let me sleep.”
Nursey’s lips brush the fabric of Will’s shirt. “Is that a yes?”
He’s so annoying, Will tries to think, and fails.
“Yeah,” he says, feeling his stupid heart stupidly flutter, “it’s a yes.”
“Chill,” Nursey says, and presumably falls asleep.