Unexpected

Disclaimer: This is a purely fan-made piece that is using the world and characters from Ngozi Ukazu's Check Please!, and is made entirely for enjoyment. No financial gain has been made in the making of this piece. All other situations and plot developments are mine.

Summary: An unexpected snow storm leads to some unexpected results.

Author's Note: Happy birthday, Dex! Possible out-of-characterness and un-beta'd

Constructive criticism and comments are always welcomed

Published: 26 October 2022

Rating: T

"Hey, Dex! Is it today?" Tango bounces up next to Dex.

"Tango, you know I'm not going to answer that."

Tango shrugs good naturedly. "Happy birthday, then! If, you know, it's today."

Dex rolls his eyes and Tango laughs.

"I'm gonna figure it out," Tango promises, scurrying to keep up with Dex's longer legs. "You'll see!"

"Uh-huh."

"You'll slip up, and I'll see, and I'll know. And then I'll tell Whiskey, and he'll do something about it."

"If that's what you have to tell yourself to help you sleep at night, then by all means. Keep telling yourself that."

Tango laughs again as Whiskey falls into step on Dex's other side a little too casually. Dex suspects Whiskey has a crush on Tango, but doesn't quite know how to handle it and Dex gets that. Crushing on your teammate can get messy, so if Whiskey wants to use Dex as some sort of wingman or buffer or whatever, Dex'll let him. It's the least he can do for his very hot teammate.

"D'ja see the weather report?" Tango asks. "They're predicting that Maine is going to hit hard, and we'll see the edges of it here. Is it going to hit your hometown, Dex? How much snow do you usually see there? Do you think we'll get more than a dusting?" A new thought seems to strike Tango. "Do you think we'll get enough for a snow day?"

"Too soon to tell, but doubtful."

"Awww. I want a snow day."

"Did you not finish that essay?" Whiskey asks. "Because that's what it sounds like."

"A little bit, yeah," Dex agrees.

Tango looks a little offended. "I finished it! It's just…it will probably be better if I can take another day to go over it again after I've had some time away from it."

"That's fair," acknowledges Whiskey. "Does that mean you won't be coming tonight because you'll be going over your paper instead?"

"No, I'm coming! Wouldn't miss it!"

Whiskey gave Dex an unreadable sideways look. "Have you changed your mind? There's still time, and Tango's got plenty of room in his car, if you decided you wanted to come." He bumps his shoulder against Dex's arm and Dex can't tell if it's accidental or purposeful.

"I told you—I have a coding project I need to work on. Besides," Dex adds. "I didn't budget for it, and I have to be able to afford to print things for my bio class."

"I could cover the costs," Whiskey says with another inscrutable glance. "It'd be no problem."

"It really wouldn't!" Tango put in. "He's paid for me and Ford before!"

Whiskey narrows his eyes and he frowns at Tango, but Dex speaks before he can say anything. "Still doesn't change the fact I have a coding project with a fast-approaching deadline."

"Oh, right." Tango wilts a little. He perks up again a moment later. "Do you think you'll be able to come next time?"

"I don't know. We'll see."

"It'd make Whiskey happy if you did," continues Tango blithely, seemingly missing Whiskey's suddenly pink face and dark glare. "Wouldn't it, Whiskey. It'd be great!"

"Fantastic," grits out Whiskey, cheeks still rosy.

Dex doesn't know why Whiskey's abruptly so prickly, but he decides not to poke at that bear. He guides the conversation towards their upcoming game against Princeton and that seems to be enough to get Whiskey to return to normal.

The day continues as usual from there, but Dex does notice a few fat flakes drifting down as he leaves his lab that afternoon. It makes him think of Tango's wish for a snow day; Dex doesn't know what he'd do with an extra day (after he finished shovelling at the Haus, that is), but it's kind of fun to imagine different scenarios.

He puts it out of his head when he gets to his dorm room so he can focus on his coding project. Optimistically, he'd like to get his project to the point where the bulk of the coding is finished, and it's mostly just troubleshooting left to do, but realistically, figures he'll get through the first half only.

His room is—thankfully—empty, which means he can work here instead of going to the computer lab. The computer lab is fine, but Dex always feels self-conscious when he needs to rubberduck and there are other people in the room, even if he keeps his voice down and they're wearing headphones and did the exact same thing thirty minutes ago. He knows it doesn't make sense, but it's how he feels, and that's that.

Dex has actually made some good progress when his phone starts ringing a few hours later. He blinks, and it takes him a moment to realise what is happening. He fumbles with his mobile and almost doesn't answer it in time. "Hello?"

"Hi, Dex!" Tango's voice comes tinnily from the speakers. He sounded…off, and it just wasn't because Dex's phone was a piece of crap with an even crappier data plan. "How are you doing? Did you finish your project? Have you—"

"Tango," someone hissed in the background.

"Are you okay?" Dex asks, frowning and pushing his chair back a little bit so he can stretch for the first time in hours. His back protests before popping in a very satisfying manner.

"Um, well, nobody's hurt or anything—"

Dex snaps upright. "What do you mean, 'nobody's hurt'? What happened?" He immediately stands up and takes a few steps towards his boots by the door before he makes himself stop and listen to what Tango is fumbling out.

"Tango, you're not—" Dex starts to say, but there's a scuffling sound on the other end.

"Dex," Whiskey's voice comes over the receiver a moment later. "Tango's car is stuck in a snow drift—can you come and help get it out?"

"A snow drift?" Dex frowns and goes over to his window. Oh. Oh, it's snowed hard since Dex got to his room. And if Tango has ended up in a snow drift, it means this is the messy, nasty stuff.

Dex mentally shakes himself. "Okay, where are you guys? I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay in a safe spot until then."

He can hear the smile in Whiskey's voice when the younger boy gives him the cross street. It helps warm Dex's stomach as he quickly pulls on his work boots and work jacket, but he tries to ignore that. He has more important things to focus on.

What should have been an easy ten-minute drive turns into a long thirty-five minutes; the streets are death-traps and most haven't seen a plough yet. Thankfully, there aren't too many vehicles on the road, so Dex doesn't have to worry as much about hitting somebody.

He finds the freshmen and Tango waves; it seems the other two were able to calm him down. "Hi, Dex! Thanks for coming! What are you going to try first?"

"Let me see what's going on and I'll let you know then." Dex carefully slogs through the growing piles of snow to get a closer look. From what he can tell, Tango must have hit a slick patch and ended up in the offending snow drift. It doesn't look like it's something that will require his tow chains; it looks like something that can be dealt with with some sand, a shovel, and patience.

Tango looks a little embarrassed when Dex asks if he has any sand or kitty litter in his car. "I…don't have any?"

Dex only barely manages to swallow his sigh. "Okay, when the weather's cleared and the roads are less shitty, we're going to get some for your car. In fact, we'll get you the whole winter kit and kaboodle. You'll be happier for it."

"Okay."

"In the meantime, we'll use some of mine."

Dex shows Tango (and Whiskey, who hovers nearby) how to clear the snow and where to put the sand while Ford (who refuses to come out into 'the devil's weather' (her words) for anything short of a life-threatening situation) rocks the car. It takes a little bit, but eventually, they get Tango's car back on to the road.

"Thank you, Dex! You're the best!" Tango beams up at him as Ford climbs over the centre console into the passenger's seat. "It was super nice of you to come and help us! And thanks for showing me what to do! I see what you mean, Whiskey! It's not for me, but I can see where you're coming from now!"

Dex glances over at Whiskey, curious as to what Tango's referring to, but Whiskey won't meet his eyes. His cheeks might be redder than they were before, but it's hard to tell. He is, however, giving Tango a dark look.

Dex wonders what that's all about, but decides not to pry. "Drive slowly," he says instead, "and I recommend you just head straight back to campus."

"Do not stop at Go, do not collect two hundred dollars?" Whiskey says, breaking his glare at Tango to give Dex another one of his unreadable sideways looks.

"Yeah, and that includes the Stop 'N' Shops, as well."

"Okay!" Tango makes it sound like he's cheerfully agreeing to an order rather than a suggestion; Dex decides it's not worth the clarification.

Whiskey lingers as Tango gets into his car. "Do you want company back to campus?" He asks Dex, pretty eyelashes fluttering as he glances up through them.

"What?"

Whiskey repeats the question and adds "because I could, if you wanted."

"I'll probably have to park at the Haus because I'm pretty sure someone's already stolen my parking spot," Dex apologises, "so you'd be way far away from your dorm. That's an awfully long way to have to walk in all this snow and I wouldn't do that to you."

It's probably Dex's imagination, but he thinks Whiskey looks almost disappointed with his answer. "All right," Whiskey sticks his hands into his pockets. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah. Be careful." Dex gives the freshmen a small wave before he gets into his truck and heads back to campus.

Dex has to shovel out a space on the parking pad behind the Haus, and then he feels like it's too much of a jerk move to only do that, so he also shovels off the rest of the pad, and all the sidewalks as well.

He's tired and hungry when he's done, but since Nursey is doing some weird weather poetry ritual thing in the living room with Holster and Wagner (and it looks terrifying and Dex is not going to get sucked into it), Dex only steals one of the many quiches Bitty has stored in the freezer and starts the trudge back to his room.

He's halfway back when he hears someone call his name. He look up, squinting through the blowing snow (all his hard work at the Haus will be undone within the hour, but he tries not to think about that), and there's Whiskey coming towards him.

"I thought that was you," Whiskey says as he stops right in front of Dex. "What are you doing?"

"Heading back to my room."

"Now? Did you have some troubles or something?"

"No, but I did some shovelling."

Whiskey rolls his eyes gently. "Of course you did."

The way he says that and the way he's looking at Dex makes Dex's stomach fill with warmth, and that makes Dex self-conscious. He shifts his weight. "Why are you out in this weather?"

Whiskey wrinkles his completely perfect and never-been-broken nose. "I've been sexiled."

"What, really?"

"Apparently, this kind of weather puts my roommate's girlfriend in the mood for lots of 'cuddly, snuggly sex'"—said with heavy sarcasm and air quotes—"so I've been kicked out. I thought I might go to the Haus."

"You can, but be warned, Nursey's taken over the living room for some poetry thing."

Whiskey's nose wrinkles further. "Lovely." It's no secret that Whiskey finds Nursey irritating and pretentious, and Nursey thinks Whiskey is an arrogant asshole. He's better than Dex, though, at walking away, so it's not as volatile a situation.

Dex debates with himself, but it doesn't take him long to make a decision. "If…if you don't want to go to the Haus, you could…you could join me. I'm going to heat up this quiche for supper and there's probably enough for two."

Whiskey blinks, and then he smiles. It's small, but it's the most happy and genuine thing Dex has ever seen on his face. It makes Dex feel slow and stupid with how good it looks on Whiskey's face.

"I'd like that. I'd like that a lot." Whiskey's smile doesn't fade. "Lead the way."

Dex pauses when Whiskey grabs the sleeve of his jacket. He looks at the hand, and the he looks at the owner.

Whiskey shrugs. "Snow's getting thicker. This way, I won't lose you in the storm." One eyebrow curves up. "Okay?"

Dex swallows. "Uh, yeah. Sure." He looks back at the hand again before he makes himself to start moving again.

Whiskey follows in his footsteps, using the larger teen as a sort of wedge plough so by the time they get to the dorm, Dex's jeans are covered with snow and Whiskey's have significantly less. It's still enough he'll have wet jeans, so when they get up to Dex's room, Dex awkwardly offers to loan Whiskey a pair of his (clean) training sweatpants (thank god he did laundry two days ago!); Whiskey accepts.

After Dex puts the quiche into the microwave (he's sure Bitty can feel the sacrilege) and gets out of his wet things, he hangs the jeans over the groaning radiator to help speed up the drying. He turns, and notices Whiskey's arms are cross a little too tightly over his chest. "Are you…cold?"

Whiskey opens his mouth, like he wants to deny it, but then pauses. "A little bit," he finally acknowledges. "Your room is much cooler than mine is. To be fair, ovens are cooler than my room, so…"

Dex nods and goes over to his closet. He pulls out his hockey hoodie. "Here, you can borrow this."

That small beautiful smile makes another appearance. "Thanks." Whiskey pulls it over his head. With the sweatpants with their too long legs and the hoodie that's about two sizes too big for him, Whiskey—by all rights—should look ridiculous, but he doesn't. He looks…almost cuddly. At least, as cuddly as someone as hot as Whiskey can look.

Thankfully, the microwave beeps loudly and saves Dex from staring too much. He turns quickly and fumbles for some dishes, and endeavours mightily to ignore the hot thrill that shot through him at the sight of Whiskey in his clothes.

When Dex turns around with the food, Whiskey is studying him intently. He doesn't say anything, just brushes his cool fingers against Dex's as he takes his plate, and sits way closer to Dex than Dex expected him to. Dex desperately tries not to notice.

"When do you expect your roommate to be back?" Whiskey asks as he sneaks the dish towel away from Dex again when Dex is distracted by washing the dishes in the tiny basin his room has.

"I doubt he will be. His girlfriend has a single." Dex grabs at the dish towel, but Whiskey dances out of reach.

"Lucky. I am, officially, deeply envious of you right now." Whiskey darts in and grabs the plate Dex wanted to dry and makes a show of drying it on the other side of the room.

"Yeah, it's been pretty nice. He sleeps there, more often than not. I just hope they don't break up."

Whiskey laughs, and tries to steal the flatware. Dex manages to catch him this time, and he makes full use of the fact he is taller and has longer arms than Whiskey does.

Their struggle is intense, but brief, and Dex emerges the winner. Whiskey pouts, and argues that he, as Dex's guest, should—at minimum—help with the dishes. Dex tells him that, as the host, it is his job to do all those kinds of tasks to ensure the comfort and enjoyment of his guests. They go back and forth, but when Whiskey points out that Dex helps with the dishes all the time when he is a guest, Dex has to concede defeat. Whiskey is smug when he takes back the dish towel and finishes up with the drying.

"Did you finish with your coding project?"

"No, but I got a goodly amount done."

"Done enough you could watch a movie or something?" Whiskey asks.

Dex runs a few timelines in his head. "Yeah, I think I could."

Whiskey smiles, and goes to peruse Dex's tiny movie collection.

Dex isn't quite sure how it happens, but within a few minutes, he finds himself on his bed with his laptop on his lap and Whiskey curled up under his arm, like he belongs there. It's so distracting that Dex has no idea what movie they're watching, and still doesn't know by the time the credits finish rolling.

Whiskey stretches, but doesn't get up. He leans his head back. "That was fun," he says. "Maybe we could do it again sometime."

"Fight over dishes?"

Whiskey smacks him on the chest lightly. "We can bicker later. No, I was talking dinner and a movie."

Dinner and a movie? But that sounds like a—

"In fact, let's compare dates right now and get it on the calendar." Whiskey pulls out his phone. "Since you asked me this time, I'll pay next time and deal with all the food and such."

This is sounding more and more like a—

"How does next Tuesday evening look for you?"

Dex blinks. "What?"

"Next Tuesday evening. Maybe after weights? We could get cleaned up and head out straight from there." Whiskey pauses. "Or we could stay in. I can banish my roommate for an evening; heaven knows he's sexiled me enough that I've definitely earned it."

"Do you know if Tango is available then?"

Whiskey frowns a little bit. "Why would I ask if Tango was available?"

"…So he could come?"

"Why would I want Tango to come?"

"…Because…you know." Dex makes a vague gesture, feeling more and more wrong-footed as the conversation goes on. "I'm sure he'd say 'yes'."

"I don't want him to say yes." Whiskey sounds a little annoyed. "I want to know if you will say 'yes'."

"But aren't you worried he'll get the wrong idea?"

Whiskey sits up and Dex most definitely does not mourn the loss. He narrows his eyes at the redhead. "And what would the 'wrong idea' be?"

"Well…I mean, it sounds kind of personal. Intimate. And aren't you worried he'll think you've given up on him? You've spent all that time trying to get his attention and—"

"Hold up. Hold up." Whiskey stares at him. "Do you…do you think I have a crush on Tango?"

"…Don't you?"

Whiskey stares at him some more. Then his shoulders start to shake. Then a loud burst of laughter. He laughs so hard he collapses back down against Dex's side. "You think…" he wheezes. "That I…no wonder…no traction…because! Because!"

"I missed something here," says Dex as Whiskey's laughter finally starts to fade.

"You missed a lot of things," Whiskey correct, still chuckling a little. "I guess I'm just going to have to be as direct as possible here." He sits up enough he can look Dex dead in the eye. "Poindexter. I do not have a crush on Tango."

"Oh." Well, Dex read that wrong. That's embarrassing.

"I have a crush on you."

"I didn't mean to—what?"

"It's on you."

It doesn't compute. "What?"

"God, no wonder I couldn't get any traction with you! You thought I was trying to hit on Tango, and thus totally missed the fact I was hitting on you. And all those times you bailed on me with those dumb excuses…" Whiskey shakes his head. "I thought I couldn't be more obvious."

Dex blinks a few times, trying to process what just happened. "Me?"

"Yeah."

"But…"

"But what?"

There are too many answers to finish that sentence with and Dex doesn't know which one he should go with.

Whiskey waits a few moments, and then he props himself up so he can lean up. He kisses the corner of Dex's mouth slowly. He lingers there. "Is this okay?" He murmurs, close enough his lips brush Dex's cheek.

Dex inhales sharply, and exhales shakily. "…Yeah." He turns his face more towards Whiskey.

Whiskey kisses him, softly and carefully, and Dex feels like he's in the middle of a firework display. Coloured stars explode on his eyelids and he can't hear himself think because his heart is pounding so hard.

Whiskey eases back a few moments later, and he's smiling. "So," he says. "Tuesday evening?"

Dex huffs out something that might be a laugh. "Yeah. I can do that."

x Fin x