#nurseychowder

Less so than a few months ago when the damage to their bond was fresh but still; Chowder doesn’t want to get a migraine in the middle of the supermarket and fuck up their date night.

He could text and ask but texting still feels weird. Him and Nursey don’t text. Well, they do now sometimes, but it’s that they’ve never needed to before. Cait has always been top of his texting list, followed by Bitty and his family chat, and it hasn’t changed yet. Nursey probably shouldn’t be looking at electronic screens too much anyway.

Maybe Chowder just shouldn’t bring dessert. Dessert is a kinda fraught area now. It feels uneven though, for Nursey to be providing the meal and for Chowder to not even bring a dessert. He could bring cookies? And milk for dunking, even though only Nursey really likes milk. It feels like a bit of a cop out, but he checks the time on his phone and realises if he doesn’t just pick something he’s going to be late, so it will have to do.

Chowder has been aware of people giving him looks the whole time he’s been in the supermarket, but it’s not until he’s in the queue for the self-service check out (hoping to avoid this exact situation) that he hears a shy voice asking if he really is Chris Chow.

It’s a little girl with her mom so he extra takes his time, the girl’s face lighting up and the mom offering the back of their shopping list for autographing. It’s not like it’s hard to make kid conversation and smile for a picture – because fans! Fans who are kids! – but he is very aware of the fact he’s almost definitely going to be late for date night now.

Although he’s cheered by the way the girl skips away after, Chowder definitely does almost forget his card in the card reader in his hurry to get out the store. It’s been like, a week since he last saw Nursey, so he doesn’t think he’s being unreasonable. Especially since in general, before this, he could not see Nursey for a couple of hours and be happy to see him again.

It feels weird taking the different turnings and knocking on Dex’s door instead of just going back to his and Nursey’s apartment. It’s been weird since the start and, unlike the texting, hasn’t got any less weird. Already the pulsing, staticky noise is starting up in the back of his mind, though, reminding Chowder why they’ve agreed just this one date night a week together.

Nursey, when he answers the door, looks tired and rumpled. He smiles when he sees it’s Chowder, but his expression is stiff in the way that tells Chowder he’s internally leaning towards freaking out. That and the way Chowder can feel it pressing against his mind from Nursey’s side, blooming behind his eyes like a tension headache.

“What’s the matter?” Chowder asks, manoeuvring Nursey back into the hallway to be safe. His brain is already starting up a highlights reel of Bad Things That Could’ve Happened (‘While You Were Away on an NHL Roadtrip’ Edition).

“Nothing,” Nursey says in a tone that suggests it’s really not nothing. “I’m just an idiot. I went out earlier to get the stuff for dinner and I forgot to bring any sunglasses so the lights were so bad and there was a baby crying and it was so fucking awful so I just thought I’d take a nap and it’d be chill but I literally just woke up. This is entirely my fault, but I can start cooking now–”

Chowder sits them both down on Dex’s couch, a blanket still bundled up where Nursey must have been, feeling the relief coursing through him. Not not bad, but usual bad. “Don’t be stupid, you don’t need to cook.”

Nursey squints at Chowder, which could be confusion or that the lights are on full and giving him a headache. “Aren’t we going to eat?”

“Well yeah, but it’s cool, we can order take out,” Chowder says, just about managing to put an arm around Nursey’s shoulders and reach for the take out menu collection under the coffee table in one motion.

“Yeah?”

“Of course. What kind are you feeling?”

Nursey’s shoulders come down from around his ears; Chowder feels the pressure from Nursey’s side of the door ease a little, too.  “Something with noodles,” Nursey decides without consulting any of the menus. “Though aren’t you not supposed to eat take out anymore?”

This is very, very true. “What the nutritionist team don’t know won’t hurt them,” Chowder says, picking a menu, because he would do anything to make Nursey look even a little less miserable. Also, an excuse to eat take out in the middle of the season! The nutritionist team are omniscient, but it’s worth it.

Once the food is ordered there’s nothing to do but wait, so Chowder dims the lights down to almost nothing and hits shuffle on whichever of Dex’s white boy playlists is lined up to act as some ambient noise. The static is louder and more insistent the closer they are, but it’s date night, so Chowder joins Nursey again on the couch, wiggling until they’re both otherwise comfortable. Chowder pulls the blanket over them both and rests his cheek against the top of Nursey’s head, sighing out a tiredness he hadn’t been truly aware he was feeling.

It’s just plain nice, being able to sit with Nursey like this, even if it makes the prospect of going back alone to their echoey apartment later even less appealing. After a minute or two of quiet, though, Nursey says, still miserable, “I hate this.”

Chowder considers asking if he means the playlist, but it seems facetious. “Me too.”

“I just–” Nursey starts, misery becoming tinged with frustration. “I can’t believe I managed to injure myself so bad I literally broke our soul bond and I’m still not better? What kind of fate-defying bullshit. Of course I managed to fuck up that bad.”

Chowder knows they both know that’s not how soul bonds work. They act like a nudge in the right direction, and the brain chemistry or whatever of it is (clearly) pretty fragile, but the bond itself is something you build together. And that kind of building means, door into Nursey’s brain or not, Chowder can see the downward spiral that train of thought is taking.

“One, it’s not broken. Two, it’s not just your responsibility to get better. And we’re doing way better! Like, how bad is the static for you right now? I’m feeling it way less.”

Nursey huffs but finally concedes, “It’s not as bad as it’s been.”

“And you didn’t immediately die in the supermarket even without your sunglasses, right?”

“Not immediately.”

“So we’re on the right track!” Chowder says. “Baby steps, yeah, but still steps.”

“I guess,” Nursey sighs, still sounding unconvinced. He tucks his head fully into the crook of Chowder’s neck, like he’s hiding.

“It’s all gonna be fine,” Chowder continues, tucking the blanket in unnecessarily tighter. “Just have to be patient then you can have me back in your head again, rambling about some dumb shit and keeping you up at 3am.”

“Wow, C, supes selling this fixing our bond project,” Nursey chirps, muffled and half-hearted but a chirp all the same. He sighs, but doesn’t sound mad when he asks, “You’re really not gonna let me sit here feeling sorry for myself, are you?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t get how like, sure about this stuff you are. This sucks ass and there is legit no end in sight.”

Chowder kisses the top of Nursey’s head, twisting his neck awkwardly to reach. “If you don’t think I’m being this positive and optimistic about this whole thing to convince myself as much as you, then I don’t think you even know me, babe.”

“Okay, fair,” says Nursey after some contemplation, “sorry if like, I was making it seem like I don’t get that this isn’t fun for you either.”

They’ve had this same conversation with minor variations at least five times in the three months since Nursey tripped off the curb and concussed himself outside their (former) favourite dessert parlour. Something triggering Nursey feeling understandably shitty about the situation, followed by Chowder trying to cheer him up, followed by Nursey feeling bad for Chowder having to cheer him up instead of the other way, rinse and repeat.  

“You weren’t,” Chowder tells him all the same, because he knows Nursey needs to hear it, just like the other times. “Compromise: you’re welcome to feel sorry for yourself without suggesting that this is your fault and not like, one of the unfair twists of the universe saying fuck you.”

That, finally, gets Nursey to laugh. “Okay, give me a second to look through the whole array of things I can feel sorry for myself about,” he says, uncurling from around Chowder so he can show him his Thinking Face properly. “Got one. Being Dex’s roomie again sucks. He’s so fucking overbearing.”

“Aw, come on, he’s being amazing putting you up like this,” Chowder says in Dex’s defence, even though he agrees a little bit. “It means we can see each other but not have like, our brains melt from soul bond gone wrong blood clot stuff.”

Nursey shrugs, all fake blasé. “Not worth it.”

“So cold.”

“You know I love you, C, but…”

“Wow,” says Chowder, dialling up the mock offence. “Wow, okay, forget who earns most, you’re totally paying for the take out. Since I can see where I rank now.”

Nursey smiles, leaning in to kiss Chowder’s cheek as an apology. “Seriously though,” he says, pulling back. “He makes me drink all these teas and shit that his latest boyfriend is in to. I have to pee like every twenty minutes.”

“It’s sweet! He wants you to get better.” So you leave him space in his own home to bone his hot new boyfriend probably, Chowder doesn’t say.

Nursey gives Chowder a look. “I’m the kind of guy that likes teas, because they’re healing and warm and taste good and shit? But even I’m like dude, chill maybe.”

“Poor baby. You know, I was expecting more near death arguing from you guys.”

“There’s been a bit of that, too,” Nursey admits, shifty.

“I know,” says Chowder, easy enough. He doesn’t have to like that his best friends argue, but he’s more okay with it now it’s evolved from constant, real barbs to bickering that occasionally blows up. Also, “You do realise I’m the one you both phone to complain about it, right?”

“Some of the only joy I get is listening to him complaining at you through the wall,” Nursey says, tone almost nostalgic. He sighs. “Take me home, C.”

And Chowder knows Nursey was kidding, but abruptly Chowder isn’t. “You know I wish I could,” he says, coming out way too serious. “Our apartment isn’t the same without you leaving your underwear everywhere.”

Nursey’s expression turns sad; Chowder is suddenly uncomfortably aware he isn’t the only one who doesn’t need a brain door to see right through the other. “I am trying really hard to like, will myself to get better,” Nursey says, solemnly earnest in a way he rarely is. “Following all the doctor’s orders and shit. Promise.”

“I know.” Which means resting and staying apart so Chowder can keep their bond shut tight to heal, under lock and key from Nursey’s side of the bond going haywire. Waiting and doctor’s order suck.

“Mostly,” Nursey continues, nudging Chowder and smiling hopefully at him, “so I can leave my underwear everywhere again. I didn’t realise you missed it so much! I haven’t done laundry in ages, you’re welcome to take some and throw it about the place yourself.”

Chowder smiles back; it’s not like he wants to feel sad, and he can’t resist the fondness that wells up in him at Nursey trying. “No thanks. I’m not that desperate yet.”

“Your loss.”

“Yeah, I’m really hurting over here,” says Chowder, even though it does sting. He misses living with Nursey more than he could’ve imagined, all his annoying habits included. “I do miss having enough laundry to separate loads into like, how you’re supposed to do it. All the white things are going to need to get bleached.”

“That’s the most boring, old person thing I’ve ever heard you say,” says Nursey, delightedly almost whacking Chowder in the balls where their legs are still all tangled up. “Who even are you, bro? I remember when neither of us could even use a washing machine.”

“Shut up,” Chowder says, flushing at the joy in Nursey’s gaze and in what little sense Chowder can get of their bond beyond the static. A bit in embarrassment, too, but no one likes when white clothes go grey, okay.

“Okay, no, confession for a confession. I miss being able to go fun places for date night.”

“Same,” Chowder agrees. Dex’s living room is decorated in an acquired taste and he never has the heat up high enough.

“I miss going to your games,” Nursey continues. “It’s not the same listening to the TV.”

“We’re playing like ass right now, you’re not missing anything.”

Nursey pat Chowder’s arm. “It’s a team sport,” he says, which means yeah, they’re playing badly, but he’s not going to say it. “Tbh, you know what else I miss? My fucking aloe vera plant.”

Chowder wonders for a moment how his heart can feel so full with Nursey over the weirdest stuff – offering a care package of used underwear and fretting over the aloe vera plant that he’d saved from a dumpster and is now way overinvested in. “I promise I’m taking care of your army of houseplants, aloe vera included.”

“You better be. They’re my children.”

“Not our children?” Chowder asks and Nursey makes a so-so gesture. “How about I bring one with me next time I come, in case they’re missing their dad.”

Nursey looks horrified. “Don’t, they’re delicate!” he says, the idea of Chowder taking his precious plants outdoors for three seconds apparently too much. Then his face lights up: “Actually, bring the lavender, it’ll make Dex sneeze.”

Really, the weirdest, weirdest stuff. Chowder leans across to kiss Nursey for real for the first time that evening, because kissing only leads to stuff they can’t do right now, but he can’t help himself. “You are a terrible housemate.”

Nursey is prevented from defending himself by the door bell, their take out with them at last. Chowder gets up to answer but he does grab Nursey’s wallet off the side to pay and tips well. Once everything’s set out, Chowder realises he’s actually kinda ravenous, so it’s a good few shovelling mouthfuls until he notices Nursey has paused, watching him, expression something. Chowder wouldn’t ever, but suddenly really can’t regret how exhausted he’s going to be tomorrow after keeping their bond shut for a whole evening together.

Curious, and only feeling slightly awkward to ask aloud (progress!), Chowder asks, “What are you thinking?”

“How much I miss sucking your dick,” Nursey says, without an inch of shame.

“Well.” Really, really no regrets. Except for the fact that Nursey’s got him thinking about it now. “No disagreements here.”

Nursey knows as well as Chowder does that the doctor has ruled out sex until their bond is stable enough to withstand all the emotions let alone physical strain for Nursey’s head, but he still asks, “Are you sure we couldn’t–?”

“Nope, nope, I’m not risking that,” Chowder says, interrupting before Nursey actually outlines something and the whole idea becomes too tempting. “Just think about the amazing sex we’ll have when you’re well enough.”

Nursey shoves noodles into his mouth, getting sauce on his chin, and somehow manages to chew disappointedly. “My dick is getting fucking chafed with all the thinking about that I’m doing, babe, don’t you worry.”

Chowder swallows. “Well!” he says again. He doesn’t have a come back for that. It’s not like he isn’t in the exact same situation. Nursey’s grin says he gets it. “You have sauce on your chin,” Chowder says, a pretty weak attempt at a topic change.

Nursey rolls his eyes and wipes across with the back of his hand. “Didn’t know this was a fancy establishment.”

“Obviously,” Chowder says. “I almost bought crème brûlée for dessert. But then I remembered we don’t have the things to burn them. Although maybe Dex does? Anyway, I got cookies and milk instead.”

“And they’ve just been sitting in your backpack?” Nursey asks.

“Oh,” says Chowder. It’s been a while since he left the store. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I was distracted by my hot, injured boyfriend?”

“I’ll give you points for the flattery, but the milk is going to be all warm unless one of us puts it in the fridge.” They share an argument of looks that used to be more intense with the bond, and Chowder loses because Nursey is injured, so he goes and put the milk in the fridge.

“Wait a second,” he calls from the kitchen, “I thought you were a heathen that likes warm milk with your cookies, or has Dex shown you the light?”

“No way, but it’s warm milk like warmed on the stove, not gross room temperature shit,” Nursey replies, like this should be obvious.

Chowder comes back in time to see Nursey stealing the last pieces of beef from Chowder’s plate. He doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic, and Chowder’s heart doesn’t even have the decency to feel annoyed with him.

“All right,” Chowder says, getting comfortable on the couch again, careful to not knock any dishes over so Dex doesn’t kill him. “I’m suggesting you finish your food – emphasis on your – because you need the vitamins and stuff so your body can heal, but after I’ll heat you up the nasty milk. Cool?”

and bitty doesn’t seem to mind dex so he agrees, saying dex reminds him of a few of his daddy’s players and knows how to talk his language

(chowder isn’t close enough to bitty yet to recognize the red flag that is comparing dex to one of the football players from bitty’s past)

so bitty and chowder get coffee pretty frequently to meet and discuss what they’ve learned.

but the thing is, this has stopped being about getting the d-men to get along anymore, at least for chowder. they’re freshman, everyone’s kind of terrible as a freshman in one way or another. they’re both already maturing and growing as people, and chowder has it on good authority (bitty) that jack has talked to the boys himself, and probably had more of an effect. nursey and dex are already getting along better. 

and yet. the coffees keep happening. 

yes, chowder likes hanging out with bitty, but he’s starting to worry bitty will realize he’s bordering on obsessed with nursey. how could he not be though, when nursey’s so cool! and handsome! but also a goofy mess and a really emotional person, in private. 

but bitty doesn’t bring it up. he just smiles at chowder’s latest stories and counters with snippets of his own dealings with dex–how he taught dex to make bread this weekend, to surprise his mother over break; how dex taught him how to unclog the shower the other night; how dex got so angry when bitty told him about an argument he had with his father. 

(chowder doesn’t quite put it together, but he knows these conversations mean something.)

“we should all hang out,” chowder says one day, maybe early november. “all four of us. might be good for them.” 

“that’s a great idea,” bitty replies, looking up from his twitter feed. “rans and holtzy are throwing a party on friday, we could all pregame in my room?” 

so that’s how chowder ends up sitting on bitty’s bed, pressed up against nursey, a tervis tumbler of whipped cream flavored vodka in his hand. 

(bitty, it turns out, has an entire stash of weirdly flavored liquors he’s inherited from people like lardo and shitty who buy them, try them once, and hate them.)

it all happens in a weird, slow motion mess the way most things happen in pregames. 

first, chowder notices that dex–mr. ‘i only drink beer and whiskey’ poindexter–is sipping on the boxed wine bitty loves. even chowder thinks it tastes like terrible juice, but dex is choking it down for some ungodly reason. 

second, either nursey pregamed the pregame or he didn’t eat beforehand because he’s barely touched his drink but is all up in chowder’s space: leaning against him, touching him, laughing in his ear. chowder doesn’t mind in the least, but his cheeks have been hot since he sat down.

and third, dex and nursey are being…weirdly cordial. even on the ice, where they’ve learned to put the team first, they don’t act like this. but they keep exchanging weird looks, which makes chowder nervous.

a drink in, bitty decides to put on his beyonce party playlist, to “get them in the party mood.” nursey chirps him for it, but dex just smiles.

and of course if music is playing and alcohol is flowing, then bitty is dancing. chowder wishes he could dance like bitty, all confident and flirty, but his sister always tells him he dances like a pogo stick or a white suburban dad. 

“you gonna dance with your man?” nursey asks in an undertone, and chowder is bewildered. 

“my man?” he asks. “who’s my man?” 

“bits,” nursey elaborates. “i know it’s on the DL, but dex and i have been talking and we know about your coffee dates…” 

“those aren’t dates, those are- those are business meetings,” chowder says, because how else would he describe them? “we talk about- about important things.” 

“it’s okay,” nursey whispers. “i mean, obviously, but also, like, we won’t tell anyone-”

“we’re not dating!” chowder says a little too loud. it wouldn’t be a big deal, normally; one of the baristas at annie’s thought they were a couple the other day and it was a little funny then, totally harmless. but not coming from nursey, the guy chowder’s been pining after for months now. 

bitty stops dancing, eyes widening. dex is looking between them, bewildered. 

“oh.” nursey looked a bit ashamed, a bit confused. “uh, sorry for assuming?” 

“no, it’s fine,” bitty says quickly, clearing his throat. “who wants to do dirty girlscouts?” 

dex chokes on his wine. “excuse me?” 

nursey relaxes a little. “oh, sweet, we used to do those at school. shitty’s obsessed with ‘em.” 

“alright, boys, on your knees,” bitty says, and chowder watches dex’s face go from pink to cherry red. he rummages through the collection of bottles on his desk and pulls out a half-empty thing of peppermint schnapps. “i already stole the whipped cream and chocolate syrup just for this.” 

chowder and nursey hop off the bed to kneel next to dex. chowder goes first, taking the shots of syrups, schnapps, and whipped cream while bitty laughs and squirts a little extra cream onto the end of chowder’s nose. 

“i’ll get that,” nursey says, and before chowder can react nursey’s licked the whipped cream from his nose. bitty laughs again and dex tells him that’s gross, but chowder thinks he might pass out from how turned on he suddenly is. 

“c’mon, licky mcgee, your turn.” chowder watches in horror and wonderment as nursey takes the syrup and the schnapps alone, adam’s apple bobbing once, tantalizingly. nursey casts him a look with hooded eyes, and chowder feels like he might explode. 

then he looks over, at dex, who looks like he’s feeling the same as bitty stands over him and pours schnapps into his mouth, followed by the whipped cream. dex chokes on it a little, some spilling out the corner of his mouth, but he wipes it away and stares at bitty chugs schapps straight from the bottle. 

and that finally clicks for chowder. all of it, really. he can see the longing in dex’s eyes, the way bitty is showing off, the suggestion in nursey’s expressions…

“you wanna take a walk?” he asks nursey, probably too loudly. but dex and bitty are either ignoring him or hoping nursey will say yes, so when nursey does chowder has him out of the room and alone in seconds. 

they don’t walk far–just around the block where no one is watching–before chowder takes nursey’s hand. 

and chowder does not believe in things like subtlety or miscommunication. “this is what you want, right? because I really, really like you.” 

and nursey, astounded, answers chowder with a kiss. 

They end up at Taco Bell, because Chowder loves trashy food and Nursey can’t say no to him. They go through the drive-thru and park the car in the park next to the school to eat. Chowder’s quiet, because he knows by now that the rant is coming.

“It’s just so fucking boring, you know? Like, all these meaningless classes taught by meaningless teachers filled with a bunch of meaningless students. I feel like I’ve spent the last four years of my life doing busy work. No one here is doing anything. Nothing anyone does here makes a difference. I want something I do to make a fucking difference,” he huffs.

“You will make a difference, Nursey,” Chowder says, “Just maybe not when you’re only seventeen. You’ve got time.”

“I’m wasting time here,” he grumbles.

“Are you wasting time with me?” Chowder asks, eyebrows raised.

“No, no, fuck - “ Nursey backtracks, “Not with you, Chowder, never with you. You’re the only fucking person who matters, you know? You’re smart, and kind, and you’re going to do things.”

“Oh, well thank god, I’m going to do things. Amazing. I should put that on a resume,” Chowder grins.

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Nursey grouches, but he’s not even sure he knows what he means. Chowder’s his best friend, and the smartest person he knows, and Nursey just knows that there are big things coming for him. There have to be.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chowder laughs, reaching over and scrubbing a hand through Nursey’s hair.

“Give me two years, Chowder,” Nursey says, “Two years, and we’ll be in college, and I’ll be writing, and you’ll be learning how to save people’s lives with, like, computers or something, and we’ll be happy.”

“I’m happy right here,” Chowder shrugs.

“Temporarily happy. I wanna be really happy.”

“Is anyone really happy, though?” Chowder asks.

“We’re going to be,” Nursey answers firmly. “And I won’t have to day dream through life because life will be good.”