Summary: "I—I wasn't laughing at you," Dex says, still panting as he tries to catch his breath. "But I mean, it is pretty hilarious that you think my laugh is cute."

Or:

Bitty enlists the Frogs to bake a pie, and Nursey and Dex don't really do any work.

A/N:

I don't know how I feel about how this turned out. I'm not sure that it's great, but *shrugs* it's decent. I hope y'all like it :)

Also, in other unsurprising news, I'm terrible at titles and summaries.

There are some things Dex wishes he could forget he ever saw. Like the entire Star Wars prequel trilogy. Or the time he walked in on his parents. Or the sight of Derek Nurse kissing another guy.

He's looking for Nursey, since no one has seen him in a while. Given that Nursey was drunk, he could be getting himself into a lot of trouble. That's the reason that Nursey Patrol exists. Tonight, that duty falls to Dex, so he resigns himself to abandoning the party in favor of searching for his partner.

Nursey wasn't in any of the bedrooms upstairs, he's not in the basement. He's not in any of his usual hang out places, which makes Dex wonder what the hell he could be up to.

As Dex walks out onto the back porch, he sees two figures in a dimly lit. They're making out quite passionately. The one pressed up against the wall has his hands in the other's hair, and they have their hands up the other's shirt.

Dex takes a step closer, ready to tell them to bug off, as the back porch is off-limits to non-hockey team members. It's then that they come well enough into focus for Dex to realize that it's Nursey who's pressed up against the wall. And the other person is—it's the guy that Nursey introduced Dex to earlier, from his American Lit class (Larry? Liam?).

Dex feels his stomach drop. Nursey—Nursey is into guys?

"Uh," Dex utters, completely in shock from the sight of Nursey kissing another boy.

They fly apart at the sound of Dex's voice. Nursey is panting, his clothes rumples, and the other boy is beet red, his hair a mess. Dex feels like he's on fire and sick to his stomach at the same time.

"You need something?" Nursey quips, glaring at Dex in a decidedly unchill manner.

"Uh n-no," Dex stutters. "I was just—I mean—I'm going to go now."

Dex turns and sprints through the Haus, out the front door. He runs the whole way back to his dorm. He unlocks the door to his room and stumbles inside, his lungs on fire. He flops down on his bed, breathing heavily.

Once he catches his breath, Dex groans loudly.

"I'm trying to sleep. Shut up," his roommate Pete mumbles, throwing a pillow at him.

Dex takes the pillow and shoves his face in it. He's way too drunk for this. Any other time, he could simply ignore the way his stomach twisted at seeing Nursey kissing that other guy. But right now he can't.

Dex remembers feeling exactly the way he does now back when his best friend Tommy got his first girlfriend. At first, he thought it was just that he was upset he'd have to share his friend. But that wasn't it. At all. He was jealous of Tommy's girlfriend because she got to—well shit.

He definitely has a crush on Nursey.

Fuck.

Dex had very skillfully taken to avoiding Nursey after he found out he had been sober enough to remember his realization the next morning.

Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid him today. Today was the last day before Thanksgiving break, and Bitty was hosting the entire hockey team for their own Thanksgiving dinner before some of them (Dex included) went home for the holiday. Bitty had texted all the frogs that he wanted them to come over to the Haus early.

When Dex exits his dorm, Nursey and Chowder are already there waiting for him. Nursey stands with his hands in his pockets, looking more attractive than is fair to Dex—and boy is Dex looking forward to a few days away from Samwell.

Dex awkwardly nods to acknowledge both of them, and then keeps on walking, grateful that it's cold enough that he can blame the rosiness of his cheeks on the weather.

He's careful to keep a few steps ahead of Nursey and Chowder and he gives them only grunts in response when they address him. He just needs to get through this day without doing something stupid, and then he'll have four blissful, Nursey-free days.

When they walk into the Haus, Bitty calls them all into the kitchen.

"I need y'all's help," Bitty says breathlessly. "There's just too much for me to be doin' all on my own."

"Okay!" Chowder responds enthusiastically. "What do you need?"

"Great!" Bitty says. "I need y'all to make a pecan pie for me."

"What?" Dex replies blankly. Bitty—wants them—to make a pie? Dex was thinking he would need them to do something more in the "manual labor" category, like setting up tables, washing dishes, etc. Instead he wants them to bake. Frankly, Dex had been under the impression that going anywhere near Bitty's oven was liable to cause loss of limb.

Bitty, however, ignores his reservations. "The recipe is right there," he says, pointing to the only unoccupied counter space to be found in the kitchen. "I need to run to the Stop'n'Shop to pick up a few more things and that pie has to be gettin' in the oven ASAP."

"Okay! We're on it!" Chowder says.

Nursey shrugs. "Yeah man. That's chill."

Dex simply nods. The prospect of having to interact with Nursey at all is terrifying, but Bitty seems frazzled and frantic, and Dex will figure it out to help him.

"Good! Chowder, you're in charge," Bitty says hurriedly. "I'll probably be back in an hour or so."

Bitty turns on his heel and is out the front door in a flash.

Chowder walks over and picks up the recipe. "Uh," he says uncertainly, frowning deeply. "Have you guys ever made a pie before?"

"Nah man," Nursey answers coolly. "But it's chill. We can figure it out."

Dex rolls his eyes, suppressing the urge to scoff at Nursey's irritating catchphrase. So far his chill count is up to 26 for the morning. Also, Dex knows from experience that making a pie is a bit more difficult than making like, cakes or cookies.

"Or you could just ask me," Dex offers. "I've actually made a pie or two before."

"Really?! You have?!" Chowder questions, seeming both confused and excited by the news that he can bake.

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a baker, Poindexter."

It's an innocent comment, and if anyone else said it, Dex probably wouldn't have minded. But it's Nursey, and just because he has a crush on him doesn't mean that Nursey still doesn't get under his skin or annoy the hell out of him, especially when he assume things about him. Dex feels a flash of anger, but he tries to tamp down on it.

"I'm not in the mood for this," Dex snaps. "So do me a favor and just shut the fuck up."

"Woah, Dex is backing down from a chance to fight," Nursey says teasingly. "You must be in a really good mood. And by 'good', I mean slightly less bitchy than usual."

It's just another dig at Dex's uptight personality and he's sorry that he can't be as laid back as Nursey, but the frequency with which he points this out is getting old. "Let's get to work on this pie," he says instead of firing back, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. He doesn't understand how he can be so pissed off at Nursey right now and still be attracted to him, but that's a problem for another time. Right now, he just wants to get this pie baked so he can stop be forced to interact with Nursey.

"Okay! Here, why don't you look at the recipe!" Chowder replies eagerly, anxious to give his friends a distraction.

Dex takes the yellowed card from Chowder and reads through it—well, he tries to. It's messily written, with most of the measurements crossed out and replaced with a different number, and at least half the instructions have been crossed out with only a one or two word comment left in their place.

"Jesus," Dex mutters under his breath as he attempts to decipher the ingredients list. He's not sure whether it calls for 1/8 tsp. of salt or 1/4 in the dough. "How can Bitty actually read this?" he asks, to no one in particular.

"Man, I bet he probably doesn't even need it," Nursey suggests.

"Yeah!" Chowder agrees. "I don't think I've ever seen him look at a recipe when he's making a pie!"

Dex nods his head in agreement. "I don't think I could do that though," he says. "I'd probably forget something."

"I wonder how long ago Bits wrote this," Nursey comments from over Dex's shoulder. His warm breath hits Dex's neck and he shivers in response. A flush starts to creep up his neck, and he really hopes that Nursey didn't notice his shiver.

"P-probably before he came to Samwell," Dex responds, taking a step away from Nursey. "But we need to start on this."

"Okay! So what's up first?" Chowder asks.

Dex glances around the kitchen. There isn't much space for them to work—Bitty has commandeered the entirety of the kitchen's limited counter space. The table isn't in any better shape, littered with discarded Solo cups and empty beer cans. At least they can clean those off and use the table, rather than potentially disturbing whatever Bitty might be working on.

"Uh, you should clear off the table and wipe it down so we can use it," Dex answers. Chowder nods and steps around Dex to grab a washcloth from the sink.

"And what do you want me to do Dexy?"

Dex blushes at the nickname. Nursey has no idea how much Dex likes it (not that Dex plans on telling him anytime soon).

"Just um—just grab the sugar and flour and shit," Dex mumbles quietly, lest his voice crack and give away how unsettled he feels.

Nursey raises an eyebrow. "I'm gonna need you to be more specific than 'and shit' man."

"Oh. Yeah," Dex stutters (God, he needs to get a grip). "I uh, I need flour, sugar and—" he pauses to look down at the recipe, "salt."

"You got it," Nursey says, shooting Dex an easy grin as he playfully knocks into his shoulder when he walks past.

Dex quickly scurries to the refrigerator to grab the butter and eggs they need. The blast of cold air that hits his burning face when he opens the door is a huge relief. He stands there for a moment, enjoying the chill.

When he starts looking for the ingredients, there's a dull thud to his right, followed by a quiet "shit."

Dex peeks over the door. Nursey, while reaching up to grab either the salt or sugar, had managed to drop the container of flour. He's squatting down with his back to Dex, scooping up the spilled flour to put back in the container. Dex's eyes slide down to Nursey's ass, and he chokes on his next breath. Why is he being punished like this?

Nursey whips his head around, eyes wide and unchill. Dex realizes he's been staring, though Nursey doesn't know that. He flushes. "Um. Don't put the spilled flour back in the container," he says. He sounds very awkward and stilted, stuttering through the sentence, so as soon as he finishes speaking, he ducks back behind the fridge door. If he can't get his shit together, Nursey is going to figure out his crush very quickly.

He takes a few breaths, then grabs the butter and egg and walks back to the table. Chowder is standing there expectantly. Nursey stands there as well, once again looking collected and chill.

Dex purposefully doesn't look at him, snatching up the recipe card instead. "So um, it looks like we need to mix together the flour, salt and sugar."

"Were you planning on using the table for that, or do you think that perhaps a bowl might be better?" Nursey asks, a hint of an amused smirk on his face. Nursey is obviously enjoying the way he's acting awkward and unglued. He looks like he's totally onto Dex. Fuck.

"Oh. Yeah. A bowl would be—that would be a good idea," Dex says, walking over to the cupboard. His face feels hot and he's pretty sure it's going to stay that way the whole time they bake.

He sets the bowl on the table and glances back at the card. "So we need—one and a quarter cup of flour I think, two teaspoons of sugar and—an eighth of a teaspoon of salt," he says, squinting at the recipe. He hopes those amounts are right, but he still can't tell even though he's tried to read the recipe four or five times.

"Uh, Dex?" Chowder pipes up as Dex continues to scrutinize the messy writing on the card.

"Hmm?" he hums questioningly in reply.

"Don't we need measuring cups too?"

"Oh. Yeah," Dex answers, fighting the urge to smack his forehead. "One of you guys should get them."

There's some rustling, metallic clicks and the dull thuds of drawers being opened and closed as Chowder digs around in the drawers for the measuring cups. Dex stands awkwardly as they wait, and he tries not to look at Nursey.

Dex really would like to stop embarrassing himself and get a grip on the situation. It's Nursey's fault that he's acting like this—Nursey is usually at fault when Dex is this off. But it's not like before, when Nursey made him come unglued from the words he said or the expressions on his face; now, he's making Dex lose it just by existing and being nearby. He's so fucked.

Chowder returns with the measuring cups and the spoons, which Dex didn't ask for but they definitely need.

Chowder grabs the flour first—it's the container closest to him—and he begins spading up flour, dumping the spoonfuls into the one cup measure. Nursey picks up the measuring spoons and squints at them. Dex doesn't wonder what he's thinking, and he definitely doesn't watch the way the corners of his eyes crinkle up (shut up, he's not).

Nursey shrugs and pulls the one teaspoon measure off the ring. He then picks up the salt container, and Dex, without thinking, reaches out and grabs his wrist to stop him. Nursey's eyebrows shoot up, a silent question posed to Dex.

"You know that's the salt, right?" he answers.

Nursey frowns and tilts his head to the side a bit (it's not at all cute). "Are you sure about that? It looks like sugar to me."

Dex shakes his head. "It's definitely not sugar."

"How can you even tell that?"

"Well, I mean, a grain of salt is visibly bigger than a granule of sugar," Dex explains. "And uh, there's also a label on the side that says Salt."

"Oh," Nursey says, grinning sheepishly (and Dex has to work very hard to keep his knees from buckling). "I guess I'll use the 1/8 teaspoon then."

"Yeah, probably a good plan."

Nursey doesn't move immediately. He just keeps looking at Dex, and Dex doesn't understand why; he knows what he's supposed to be doing.

"Dex?" Nursey asks a few seconds later.

"Yeah?"

"You could probably let go of me now."

"Oh. Yeah," Dex says, flushing as he quickly withdraws his hand. His face feels like it's on fire and his whole body is uncomfortably warm, but that has nothing to do with the fact that three of the stove's four burners and the oven are on, belching tons of heat into the room.

Nursey gives Dex a strange look that he can't decipher, their eyes staying locked for a long moment until Chowder's cell phone chirps, breaking the spell.

"Oh, it's Bitty!" Chowder says, fingers quickly tapping his passcode in. "He says that there's already dough for the shell in the fridge."

"Hm. I guess—I guess we don't have to do this then," Dex mumbles.

"Swawesome," Nursey says coolly, like the events of the last minute or so had no effect on him at all. Dex needs to get his shit together; clearly Nursey is uninterested and not feeling the same things Dex is.

Nursey picks up the bowl to put it away, takes one step, and, in true Nursey fashion, trips over the leg of a chair. The only reason he doesn't fall and the only reason the ceramic bowl doesn't hit the ground and shatter is because Dex reacts, reaching out to catch him—sort of. It ends up that Dex just breaks his fall.

They hit the floor with a solid thud. Dex winces as Nursey's elbow stabs his thigh. The pain is welcome though, a distraction from thinking about how Nursey is lying on top of him.

"Sorry," Nursey says, rolling off Dex and elbowing him in the thigh again.

Dex sits up and rubs his thigh gingerly. "It's—it's fine," he says after a beat. "But uh—seeing as you've already dropped the flour and tripped—no offense, but if you keep helping, I think you're going to maim or injury one of us."

Nursey snorts. "You're probably right," he says, and thankfully, there's no hostility in his tone. "I'll just sit here, out of your way."

"Good plan," Dex says, rising to his feet. He says that largely because it'll easier to ignore Nursey if he's not helping.

As Nursey sits at the table, watching Dex and Chowder work on the filling, he wonders why Dex is acting so strangely. He knows Dex has been avoiding him, and he figured that's because he was uncomfortable with what happened last week. There have been plenty of signs that Dex is one of the Straights™, but he's always tried to hide it. Derek had guessed that seeing him making out with Liam from his American Lit class was the last straw.

He walked into the morning planning to be civil with Dex; he still has to be around him, even if he does hate him. They have to at least get along until the end of the season, when Derek can ask to be given a different partner. And Dex, for his part, started out responding to him the same way he always had.

Now that they've been working in the kitchen for a while, he's not really sure, because Dex has been so awkward. And there's this—feeling in the air that Derek isn't sure if he's brave enough to label as sexual tension. He could simply be seeing what he wants to see, because he doesn't want Dex to be a homophobe. He may very well be disgusted with him, and it's manifesting itself in awkwardness, rather than anger and venom. Derek sighs quietly as he watches Dex and Chowder work. He really wishes he hadn't started crushing on Dex. It's just making this whole situation complicated. The light from the late November sun is streaming through the windows; its rays glint off of Dex's hair, making it shine a myriad of shades of red. He's such a dumbass for falling for William Poindexter, a boy who almost definitely hates his guts.

Derek gets pulled from his thoughts by a laugh. It's loud and not very pretty, snorts interspersed with gasping attempts at drawing a breath. Derek knows that Chowder doesn't laugh like that, and that there's no one else around the Haus right now (they're all still asleep probably) so that means—holy shit, Dex is laughing.

Derek, in complete honesty, has never heard Dex laugh like this. Not once in nearly three months. It's because Dex is always in such a sour mood whenever Derek is near him. Sometimes, he snorts derisively. Occasionally, he'll chuckle half-heartedly. But most of the time, he's too angry or irritated to find anything Derek says funny.

Dex's laugh is so bizarre and so Dex, and Derek is so fucked that all he can think is, "Holy fuck, Dex's laugh is so cute."

Dex whips around, staring at Derek silently. Chowder's eyes anxiously flit back and forth between them. Terror bubbles up in Derek as he comes to the conclusion that he (a man) just said that Dex (a homophobe)—that his laugh was cute out loud.

Derek attempts to backpedal. "I mean, uh—"

He's interrupted by Dex doubling over, busting out into another round of snorting laughter.

Derek purses his lips, waiting for Dex to calm down. "Why are you laughing at me, asshole?" he says when he stops.

"I—I wasn't laughing at you," Dex says, still panting as he tries to catch his breath. "But I mean, it is pretty hilarious that you think my laugh is cute."

"Well, it is," Derek replies, feeling emboldened by the fact that Dex isn't flipping the fuck out right now.

Dex shakes his head. "It's not though," he giggles. "It's so ugly!"

"It's—" Derek pauses, carefully considering whether what he's about to say is a good idea. He decides that he might as well; he can't let himself get lulled into a false sense of security about how Dex feels about queer people. "It's not very cute on its own," he explains. "I'll give you that. But when you consider it as like, part of the whole—you know, all of you—it's cute. Cause you're very cute."

The smile fades from Dex's face, a scowl replacing it. "You're an ass."

"And you're stating the obvious."

"What is your problem?" Dex asks, his fists clenching at his sides.

"You. You're my problem. You're too attractive and I can't think straight whenever you're around," Derek answers, and that's the honest-to-God truth.

"Yeah, sure," Dex scoffs, turning back to the stove. "How about the next time you want to say anything like that, you keep it yourself. Otherwise, I'm going to punch you in the fucking face."

"I figured as much," Derek says.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dex retorts angrily.

Derek shrugs. "You don't think I haven't figured it out?" he says, and Dex goes ghostly white.

"You—you don't know what you're talking about," Dex says uncertainly.

"You saw me at the kegster and you've been avoiding me since. You just freaked out when I complimented you. It's not that hard to connect the dots."

"I'm sorry," Dex replies.

Derek laughs humorlessly. "Sorry doesn't magically make being a homophobic asshat okay."

"That's what you think this is about?" Dex snaps, stalking over to Derek. He doesn't flinch, doesn't move, doesn't cower. He's not going to give Dex the satisfaction. "Well, I've got news for you. Once again, you've got it completely wrong."

"Denying something doesn't automatically make it false," Derek counters.

Dex clenches Derek's shirt in his fist and pulls him up. Derek braces himself for the punch, but it never comes. Instead, Dex's mouth is on his, messily and angrily kissing him.

It's not long and when Dex pulls away, shoving Derek back into the chair, there's a fire in his eyes as he growls, "I'm not homophobic. I'm actually really fucking gay."

Derek blinks. "Wait, what?" he asks, his voice cracking.

"I'm. Fucking. Gay."

"Oh, y-you are?"

"Fuck, Derek, that's what I just said!" Dex shouts. "I'm gay! Homosexual! A man who likes other men! However you want to describe it, that's me!"

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh is right," Dex says.

Derek scrunches his eyebrows together. This is—confusing. "So what's your problem then. I was complimenting you. Don't you like that?" he asks.

"You say you were 'complimenting' me, but really you were just making fun of me for having a crush on you. Isn't that right?"

"You think that—fuck," Derek swears, reaching out to put his hand on Dex's bicep. "I had no idea you had a crush on me. I—I mean I just said I thought you were…" Derek trails off, distracted by the way Dex's face softens and he sees the glimmer of hope in Dex's eye. "I know we haven't always got along, but I'm not a jerk. I wouldn't do that to you."

"You mean—"

"Yeah, I meant every word."

Dex blinks. "Oh."

Derek laughs, tugging Dex down so he can place another kiss on his lips. "Your crush is definitely mutual," he whispers against Dex's mouth.

The front door bangs open and they fly apart just as Bitty comes rushing into the kitchen.

"Oh my Lord!" he says, plopping several bags of groceries on the table. "You would not believe how busy the Stop'n'Shop was. So many people buyin' last minute stuff! Doesn't anyone know how to plan ahead?"

Derek grins. "Apparently not," he answers. "But I think it might be worth pointing out that you were getting stuff last minute too."

Dex giggles as Bitty's blushes from embarrassment. Derek learns that he'd like to do everything in his power to hear that again.

"Goodness! Look at that pie!" Bitty says to distract them.

Derek wonders exactly when the pie got finished, because they had still been working on it when the whole thing with Dex started.

"Chowder did most of the work," Dex says as Bitty leans over to examine the pie through the window in the door of the oven.

While he does, Derek catches Dex's eye. Dex blushes when Derek smirks, something he finds very interesting. He wonders, not for the first time, if that blush goes down any further than his neck. He certainly would like to find out.

Derek clears his throat. "I think I left something at my dorm I have to go back and get."

"I'll come with you," Dex responds too quickly, and Derek raises an eyebrow, a silent way of telling Dex to chill.

Bitty doesn't notice. "Are you sure that's a good idea," he asks. "You're not goin' to fight or anythin'?"

"I'm sure they'll be fine Bitty!" Chowder chimes in, winking at both of them.

"Alright well, y'all better not dawdle!" Bitty says as they both make their way toward the door. "Dinner will be ready in about an hour and I'm servin', whether y'all are here or not!"

"Okay," the both call back, though Derek has a feeling they both could care less about making it back on time.