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"My grandma thinks you're my girlfriend."
"W-what!?" Nursey drops the cup of water he was drinking, splashing the contents on his legs and on the grass. "Why does she think that?"
"I have no idea," Dex shrugs. "It took me a while to figure out who she was even talking about. I don't know where she got the idea." He reaches for the stack of napkins and hands a chunk off the top to Nursey, largely unconcerned by the spill.
"So what did you say?" Nursey asks as he pats his leg dry. A giddy thrill passes through him, quickly followed by guilt. It's exciting anytime someone doesn't default to calling him male, but Dex shouldn't have to deal with the implications of his grandmother's error.
"I… didn't really know how to correct her," Dex says finally. A look of understanding passes between them; it's more trouble than it's worth to explain that Nursey's not a girl, and he'd rather she believe that then the alternative. Dex apologizes, "Sorry if she says anything weird to you."
"It's fine," Nursey grins, trying not to look too pleased. Sure, it's a little weird that she thinks he's dating Dex, but the weirdness is insubstantial compared to Nursey's excitement.
"Cool. I'm gonna go, uh-" Dex makes vague handwavey motions toward the rest of his family, and Nursey nods in understanding.
"Have fun," he calls sarcastically, pulling his notebook open under his fingers.
A sea of red-
Of freckles and smiles and
People so unlike you.
Do they know who you are?
Do you know
That you don't have to be them?
He's not trying to compose a poem, really, just scraps that he can use later. It's less stressful, getting to collect his thoughts without worrying about quality, at least until he has to read what he's written.
Pink and blue skin.
Pink and blue and black and brown and
Violet bruises splashed across pale uncertainty.
Pink and blue and
Pink and blue and
Greens and yellows and violent purples-
Mottled skin, a monster, a contradiction
Paint it in cool colors and
Call it cold, call it unfeeling, call it ice.
Call it blue.
Call it boy and make it answer.
Dex reappears, looking exhausted from trying to keep his guests entertained. "Sorry," he says, and Nursey's not sure what he's apologizing for.
"Chill," he says anyway, and his heart lightens when a smile that tugs at Dex's lips even as the redhead rolls his eyes.
"I cannot believe my family dropped by like this," he says, as though he wasn't part of the planning. As though this wasn't weeks in the making. "Want to go get some space?"
Nursey agrees, holding his notebook tightly and allowing Dex to lead him away from the chattering relatives. Someone calls behind them, causing Dex to turn for a moment before abruptly shoving Nursey to go faster.
"My grandma's giving me a Look because she thinks I'm sneaking off to have some alone time with my girlfriend," he mutters in response to Nursey's unvoiced question.
"She's not wrong," Nursey laughs, expecting Dex to hit him. Instead the boy just laughs, and Nursey might feel bad for playing into the misconception but he's so, so glad Dex is letting him. It's an amazing feeling, knowing that he can pass, that someone could look at him and at Dex and conclude that Nursey is the girlfriend.
"Earth to Nursey," Dex teases, waving his hand. "Come back to me. I can see you coming up with more poetry."
"There's never enough poetry," Nursey says easily, shrugging. Dex gives him a weird glance but doesn't question it.
There's not much to do away from the Poindexters that doesn't involve abandoning them altogether, so Dex lays in the grass and drags Nursey with him. "What do you even write about?" Dex wonders. Nursey laughs at the question, gazing upward through half-closed lids. Dex looks at him like he's confused, like he honestly wants to know, and Nursey basks in the moment before it slips away. Finally Dex huffs and turns away, and that's when Nursey finds his voice.
"I don't have a clue," he says honestly, and the words leave his chest tight.
There's a moment of silence, and then "you don't have to tell me."
"I mean it." Nursey leans on his elbows and looks down at Dex, who looks so peaceful like this. "I don't know. Sometimes I write about nature, or hockey, or trying to live up to societal expectations, but I haven't really figured it out, yet. I never know where I'm going until I get there."
Dex snorts at that, but he doesn't argue. "And here I was, sure you spent all that paper on sappy love poems."
"Nah…." Nursey can't help but look away at that. "Who am I to say what love is? I love rain, and hockey, and people, and I definitely write about all those, but how can you write about love itself?" He intends it to be rhetorical, but he means what he says, too. He's written poems about heat, about racing, about the push-pull fire that gets under his skin in a fight on the ice and during 1am conversations, but he's never tried to label the feelings he writes with. The word 'love' feels too big for him, sometimes. He doesn't want paper evidence if he turns out to be wrong.
"You are way too philosophical," Dex says, but he smiles like he doesn't mind it, like there are worse things to be than a dreamer.
"You like it," Nursey retorts, recklessly crossing boundaries and wondering how far Dex would let him push. "After all, I'm your girlfriend."
Dex's groan is instantaneous; it takes a moment more for him to push himself up and scan his family. "God, I can't- why would she even think that?"
"She can detect your overwhelming heterosexuality," Nursey jokes just to see Dex's red flush.
"Come to think of it," Dex pointedly ignores Nursey's taunt, "I'm not sure whether she understands the trans thing. She might think I'm a lesbian."
"She what?" Nursey's brain shorts at the concept of anyone getting Dex so wrong.
"She's not watching us, thank god."
"What are you afraid she'll see?" Nursey leans into Dex, briefly considers letting his head fall on his shoulder but decides he'd rather not get shoved away.
Dex shrugs. "Just don't feel like dealing with everyone. They're not awful, but it's not like I've ever really been myself around my whole family before. My sister's the only one that knew before I started at Samwell."
"Is she the scary one in the corner? Dip-dyed hair?"
"Yeah. Don't tell anyone, because she'll chirp me til the end of time for admitting it, but she's my favorite family member."
Nursey smiles lazily. "Do you always work this hard to avoid letting people know you love them?"
"Yes," Dex replies without a hint of irony. He keeps on a straight face for about 2 more seconds before it breaks into a wide smile.
And then the two of them are laughing, laughing at nothing and about everything. Nursey can feel Dex's family watching them, but he can't bring himself to care. He wants to let his head fall onto Dex's shoulder, wants to drink in the freckles lining his pale neck.
There's a line here, he thinks distantly. But Dex is smiling, unabashed and beautiful, and Nursey just wants to be reckless. He thinks maybe this is the least chill he's ever been, caught up in his desire to draw out the moment and his urge to give Dex's grandmother something to believe.
Dex glances sideways like he knows what Nursey's thinking. In a split-second decision that doesn't have a fucking ounce of chill, Nursey leans his head in. His lips are behind Dex's ear, close enough that he can feel the warmth of his own breath. "Let's make them all think you're grandma's right."
"The rest of them aren't going to think you're a girl," Dex points out, but it's not quite an objection. That alone drives Nursey wild, makes him wonder and stare. Dex is supposed to be the one pushing back, telling Nursey he's out of line and that they shouldn't make a scene. Instead he's watching Nursey intently, waiting for a response Nursey's not sure how to give. He didn't think this far ahead, sure Dex would stop him like he always did.
"That's too bad," he says, voice small, and something in Dex's face tightens.
"I know the feeling," Dex says. Nursey believes him.
"Kiss me anyway," he replies, reckless and giddy and eager. He doesn't know where it's coming from, the urge to pour honesty into his actions, but he's watching Dex like he's been watching Dex for months now and for once he doesn't want to turn away when Dex looks back.
"Why," Dex says, but it doesn't quite manage to be a question. The seconds stretch on, Nursey could compose sixteen poems in the moment of tension, about Dex's eyes or his freckles or the weight of a word and its inflection. Suspicion makes its way onto Dex's face, but the trans boy still won't look away and Nursey thinks the bravest thing he's ever done is look back.
"Because I want you to," Nursey says finally, openly.
"You want me to kiss you…. While my family's right there," Dex repeats slowly, and Nursey gives a self-conscious chuckle. He breaks eye contact to watch the Poindexter clan, some of whom were all too clearly aware of their presence.
"Maybe not. Sorry. I know you've got that thing for that guy…."
"Nurse." Dex distracts him from his tangent. "Do you honestly want me to kiss you? Whether they think you're a girl or a guy?"
Nursey nods wordlessly, mouth dry. Dex is the one to lean in this time, and for a moment Nursey isn't sure whether this is actually happening. Dry lips touch his own and everything feels warm and when Nursey kisses back it isn't gentle at all, but it's not as rough as he might have imagined. A dialogue without words, as fiery as they always are, but not a fight. Nursey feels lit up from the inside, this moment a stanza he has yet to capture.
It gets to be too much in no time at all, and Nursey withdraws to lean his head into Dex's collar. He doesn't want to look up yet, doesn't want to face the rest of the world when he could have this. Dex's laugh rumbles against his skin, and when he finally looks up Dex is glowing bright and happy in the sunlight.
"I don't know what guy you think I was into," Dex admits. "There was only ever you."
"Oh." Nursey leaves it at that while he tries to find his voice, afraid to look around and see how many observers they have. "Good," he finally settles on. Dex watches his face with a smile, picks up Nursey's hand and twines their fingers together.
"You could have just asked," he says brightly, and for once Nursey isn't compelled to argue.