Chapter Text
Dex used to hate nights in Mysterium.
It was funny. He’d always begged his parents to let him stay after closing hours, and for a long time, the answer had always been no. After the day in which Kesler and Juline gave each other a look, then reluctantly agreed, he’d made it a ritual: Wake up, go to school, help at Slurps and Burps, and then finally, after everyone was gone, sit alone in the quiet, amidst winding shelves and empty cauldrons. He told himself he liked it, no obnoxious triplets, no snobby classmates, no teachers breathing down his neck. But the relief always wore off too quickly, inevitably morphing into deep, heavy loneliness. It sat in his stomach, weighing him down until he’d decide he had enough and went home.
At least, that was how it used to be.
But now the weight he felt was different. It was the weight of Fitz’s head on his chest, to be exact. The boys were cuddled up on a dusty armchair they’d shoved in the storerooms for these exact moments. It wasn’t really comfortable. Dex was pressed against the worn chair, the edge of it digging into his neck, and his legs sprawled out, tangled in Fitz’s. The feeling of his boyfriend’s breath ghosting his neck was driving him nuts (romance novels had lied), and he really, really wanted to stand up. Only, Fitz was asleep. And he was adorable.
There weren’t a lot of moments Fitz was this relaxed, and Dex sure as hell wasn’t going to ruin it. He gingerly raised a hand, and carded through his hair, gentle so he wouldn’t wake him. Fitz hummed, burying his nose further into Dex’s neck, and Dex let himself get distracted by his face. He stroked a thumb over Fitz’s brow, and watched it furrow as Fitz let out a grumble. Dex paused.
“Well, don’t stop,” Fitz mumbled, voice soft from sleep. Dex smirked a bit, but obliged.
“Sorry. I woke you up?”
“I don’t know,” came the groggy reply. It turned out, Fitz was a grumpy waker, and Dex took every opportunity to tease him about it after it wore off. Fitz would always huff, saying he wasn’t that grumpy while his cheeks turned red.
“I don’t think so,” he added. “I had this dream.”
“Yeah? What about?”
“The bakery.”
Technically, ‘the bakery’ was an empty building still waiting to be renovated. Fitz and Dex had pooled their resources, (or in other words, Fitz had paid for almost all of it and Dex had demanded he get to spend something) and bought the property without telling anyone. They would, just… not yet. A part of Dex felt weirdly giddy about keeping it a secret. Maybe because it was a secret he and Fitz shared.
“So, you were dreaming of what it looked like?”
“Mhm. I think it was yellow.”
“Ugh, really? So cheerful.” That brought out a chuckle from his boyfriend.
“And there were flowers on the windowsills. Oh, and two big rocking chairs-"
“You’re making this up, aren’t you?”
“I’m not! And there was a big sign at the top.”
“What’d it say?” They still hadn’t chosen a name.
“I have no idea.”
“Seriously?”
“What? No one’s dreams are that detailed.”
Dex gave a scoff. “Well, fine. Think of one yourself then.”
Fitz cocked a brow. “And I thought we were going to choose one together.”
“Oh, no. You had a dream about it. C’mon, bestow me with your divine wisdom.”
Fitz closed his eyes again for a long moment, giving Dex another chance to admire his face. He looked different from how he used to, he’d grown out his hair, and stopped bothering to slick it back every day. Whether it was out of being too swamped with finals to care anymore, or because he wanted a change, Dex wasn’t sure. What he was sure about however, was how pretty he looked with the mussed waves framing his face. He’d started wearing glasses, too, even though he didn’t need them. Some gave the Golden Boy weird looks at these new decisions, but Dex loved them.
Fitz opened his eyes. “I don't know. Crunches and Munches?”
Dex didn’t bother holding in his snort. “What?”
Red bloomed under Fitz’s tan cheeks, making him glow in the lamplight. “You know, like Slurps and Burps. Crunches and- actually, you’re right, that’s dumb-”
“It's perfect.”
His boyfriend’s dark eyebrows raised. “No, really, we can think of something else.”
“You thought of it, and you’re running this bakery. So it's perfect.”
Really, it was egregious. Crunches and Munches. It was the cheesiest thing Dex could’ve possibly thought of, and if it were anyone else, he’d have shot it down. But it was Fitz. Every harsh word in his mouth melted when he looked at him. “…You're sure?” Fitz said doubtfully.
“Absolutely. We’re painting it yellow, too.”
Fitz chuckled. “You hate yellow.”
But I love you, Dex thought. “I’ll live with it,” was what he said. He was glad he did, though. The smile that broke on Fitz's face was worth it.