Work Text:
Monthly Sunday brunch has rolled around again, this time with the slight chill of early October, and the luxuriously mustached lawyer leans back in his chair. “I could eat French toast for the rest of my life, swear to the motherfucking heavens.”
Derek grins and sets down his coffee. “Have I ever picked a bad place?”
“Never, not once. I love Lardo, but we can’t cook for shit.”
“What are you going to do once the kids arrive?”
Shitty sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It’s much shorter now, but Derek thinks it’ll be a lifelong reflex. “Don’t jinx it, brah. The adoption process has barely started. It’ll probably take at least another year if we’re lucky.”
“Really? That’s longer than I thought. Honestly, I never would have pegged you and Lardo as the parenting type.”
“Just wait until you hit thirty, man. I didn’t know myself. Hit me like a trainwreck. Took us forever to decide, too. I’m holed up in a lawyer’s office, and Lardo doesn’t want to give up her artistry… Well, if things go our way, I need a new job. Something with flexible hours. The last thing I want is Lardo giving up her studio time. She’s the one who’s really doing something with her career, you know?”
“Sounds like a lot of life changes.” He signals for the bill and the waitress brings it over. Shitty treated him for years (“Nursey, I didn’t sell my soul to the motherfucking devil for nothing”) and it’s nice to finally be able to pay him back.
“Yeah. But good ones. I’d like to work somewhere less shitbag corporate overlord, too. I’m thinking of finally going back to what I studied, union-side labor law. What about you, how’s work?”
Derek shrugs. “Fine. I mean, it’s nice to have a real job and the PhD done with. Plus I get to stay in Boston.”
“You look like a new man, Nursey. No bags under your eyes? Coffee that’s not black? I haven’t seen you this relaxed in years. And what, people call you Professor? What I would pay to sit in on your class.”
“Hell no. I get nervous enough already.”
The waitress brings Derek back his credit card. She has a sweet smile and gorgeous dark skin, but he knows not to flirt with someone on the clock. Still, he’s been meaning to give dating a try again. Something to think about later. He tucks his wallet into his pocket, and they exit.
“Nursey, brah, I am so happy we kept this up. I mean, brunch itself is just a fascinating concept. The seasonal element is—” Shitty’s phone dings. “One second.”
Derek savors the moment of strolling under the autumn leaves on the boulevard. The golden ones catch his eye, paper-thin and shaking tremulously in the breeze. When he glances over, Shitty is giving him a troubled look. “What?”
“Dex is coming to Boston for work this week. He wants to crash with us, and get dinner on Friday with everyone in the area.”
Derek’s heart clatters on the sidewalk. “Who’s everyone?”
“I don’t know.”
He frowns. “Right.”
“Hey, look, if you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to go. I’m sure everyone understand that things are awkward right now. Just say you’re busy.”
“No, I—” He already has chills from the thought of seeing Will in person: starred with freckles, amber eyes crinkling, smiling wide. “I don’t want to miss out on a reunion. Who’s nearby?”
Shitty thinks. “Jack’s probably away, but Bitty would show. I think Ransom and Holster are still backpacking in Vietnam. Chowder’s on the wrong coast, so’s Ollie. I know Wicks has to be with his mom, she’s pretty sick.”
“I should go. For Bitty.”
Pathetic: he’s so desperate for even a snatch of Will, an evening, a second.
That night, he’s brushing his teeth when he gets the text. He spits out his toothpaste and stares at the screen in utter confusion. He doesn’t know what this means, but he said himself that they ought to stay friends, so he texts back.
Will: Please come.
DN: u mean on friday? shitty's place?
Will: Yeah.
DN: i am
i mean, i was already planning to go
Will: Good. See you then.
DN: what time? i can't remember
Will: Idk, I'll be late. Dropping my stuff at the hotel first.
DN: oh np, i'll text shitty
He’s never sent more formal texts in his life, and the awkwardness floating off the screen is palpable. But it’s the first communication they’ve had since August. He can conjure up Will in this bathroom: reaching from behind him to grab his own toothbrush, leaning against Derek’s bare back. He rolls his eyes when Derek tries to slip a hand under his shirt, but the corners of his mouth quirk up. Then when they’re done, Derek presses their lips together, and then Will trails kisses down his neck, arms roaming up his chest, and Derek melts into the sensation, back pressed against the wall. He moans just from the memory, and when he glances down, he’s rock hard. Fuck.
He’s so lonely he could cry.
He shows up late on the doorstep with Yellowtail Riesling and a stomachache. Lardo takes one look at him and frowns. “You okay?”
Derek nods. “Fine.” He wishes he could keep up a façade, but his hands are trembling.
"Sure.” She takes the wine. “Look, Shitty’s bringing Dex from the airport, so Bitty’s the only one here yet. Why don’t you go help him?”
Bitty. Bitty is calming and makes pies that taste like home. He lets Lardo hang up his coat, then heads to the kitchen and sweeps the tiny blonde into a hug. “Bits!”
“Sweet mercy, what just hit me—Nursey!” Bitty returns the hug enthusiastically. “Or, rather, Professor Nurse! My goodness, I can’t believe you’re a professor now.”
“I could prove it with a lecture?”
“Tempting as that sounds, I’m going to recruit you to help me. Can you chop bell peppers?”
“Absolutely. How’s Jack?”
“Too busy to be here! He sends his love.” They chat about Jack’s hockey schedule, and that leads to the inevitable reminiscing about the team. Lardo breaks in with a story: she’s been talking to Ransom and Holster about their Vietnam trip and clearly enjoys their cross-cultural mishaps. Finally, the doorbell rings. Almost on cue, Lardo pours him out a glass of Yellowtail, and he accepts it gratefully.
Then Will walks in behind Shitty, wearing thick-rimmed glasses and a black sweater and wheeling a suitcase. His red hair is a little longer than usual, brushes his neck more. They stare for a long second, and then Will says stiffly, “Hey.”
Derek attempts for suave. “Hey. How are you?” He starts going in for a handshake just as Will opens his arms for an embrace. They freeze, and then he opts for the briefest of hugs. Brushing against Will gives him goosebumps.
"Good, I’m here for a tech conference. Just the weekend.”
“Sounds great. And how’s San Francisco?” He sips his wine, hoping it’ll calm him.
“Different, for sure. I can’t believe people really do wear hoodies to work. Explains a lot about Chowder, though.”
“Wow, if only I could do that. How’s Chowder? Have you seen him since your Grand Canyon trip?”
“No, but Farmer was in town last month.”
Bitty pipes up. “Ahem, where’s my greeting! And tell me everything about my sweet baby Chowder!”
Lardo nods. “Me too, I exist.”
Will immediately walks over to hug both of them, grinning. “Sorry. Hey, guys. It’s been forever since I smelled Bitty’s cooking.”
Shitty claps his hands together. “Plan! We eat after Dex puts his suitcase in his room. Food first, conversation second.” Everyone makes their way to the table but Derek, who excuses himself to the bathroom. He exhales a shaky breath, and his tiny hopes shrivel up. Why did Will ask him to come? What was he expecting anyway? Will could blink at him and Derek would fall apart.
Dinner is, as usual when Bitty cooks, obscenely delicious. Derek is unusually quiet, but Will is unusually talkative, probably because the others are interrogating him on his job and his thoughts on the sushirrito. (A memory lingers in the air: Will had his first sushi on their date for Derek’s birthday, and Derek tricked him into taking a bite out of the wasabi. He spent a whole week finding ways to apologize.)
And of course, the adoption discussion rolls back around. He likes thinking about Lardo and Shitty as parents: finger painting, buying clothes in gender-neutral colors and spending their weekends holed up in the children’s section of bookstores. He never thought of it before, but the picture is perfect.
Lardo turns to Bitty. “What about you and Jack? Ever thought about parenthood?”
“Oh my. I don’t know. Between my bakery and his hockey stardom, I can’t imagine how we’d make time.”
Derek replies seriously, “You’d make a great father, though. Both of you.” The rest of them hum a chorus of agreement.
Bitty’s cheeks are pink. “Thank you. You too, all of you.”
Derek’s eyes are pulled instinctively across the room. He thinks about Will bouncing a sleeping baby, playing baseball on a lawn, carrying a toddler on his shoulders. Then Will glances at him, and he quickly shifts his gaze back to Bitty. He needs to get a grip.
Why did he ever think breaking up would make things better?
Dessert was polished off and the night is winding down. Bitty and Lardo are at the kitchen counter looking at her art pieces on her laptop, and Shitty and Will are chatting about quantum computing and the future of artificial intelligence. Derek’s lost already, so he takes the moment to lean back into the couch and watch Will.
Will debating is always a treat, all sweeping hand gestures and incredulous faces. But he has definitely become more “chill” over time; his face doesn’t have even a slight flush of frustration. In fact, he seems to be restraining an exasperated smile, the same way he did when he was dating Derek and they had their usual petty fights.
Shitty interrupts his reverie. “Bathroom break, but this isn’t over!” He leaves the two exes staring at each other from separate couches, and Derek shifts in his seat, racking his brains for the right opening.
Will’s furrowed brow signals how awkward he feels, but he beats Derek to it. “So how is it? Not being a student anymore?”
“Good. It’s really nice.” He’s trying to convey something, an apology, a plea, but he can only dance around the subject in company. “I was so stressed all the time, and overwhelmed, and I didn’t know how to make time for anything else. I don’t know. I’m happy that I have it, and that I’m an adjunct. The job’s great. But sometimes I feel…I feel like I sacrificed too much for it.” He examines the fibers in the carpet, unable to look at Will.
Will replies quietly, “I know. It was a rough time for you.” Derek’s eyes snap up; the carpet falls away from under his socks, and the earth crumbles a bit.
“You’re right, it was. For both of us. I wanted…because…” He lowers his voice. “Can we talk? Now?”
Will looks a bit shaken, but nods once. “I also wanted to.”
Derek stands immediately and announces, “Lardo, we’re heading out.”
She nods. “I figured. Just text us if you’re coming back tonight. And make it back for lunch, because Bitty leaves in the afternoon.” Bitty makes a squeaking noise in protest; he’s perceptive, so he probably also predicted this, but he’s too Southern gentleman to point it out so bluntly. Will is blushing scarlet, but Derek doesn’t mind. He likes Lardo because she’s real with him.
“Thanks. See you later.”
Mortified, Will manages, “Tell Shitty I said goodnight.”
“Will do.” Lardo waves dismissively. Bitty flashes them a thumbs up, looking more nervous than they are.
They wordlessly bundle up at the entrance and exit into the darkness. Honestly, it’s a miracle that Derek safely pulls out of the driveway. His mind is churning. Words, words are his thing; for God’s sake, he has a doctorate in literature. But the right phrasing eludes him. His thoughts are piled up in a heap, and they scatter as he grabs at them, fruitlessly searching for something, anything to say—
“Derek, you’re not saying anything.”
“What? Oh. Sorry. Sorry, let’s just wait until we’re at my place. I can’t think enough while I’m driving—”
“It’s fine,” Will interrupts, glancing out the window. “Play some music, though.”
He can’t read Will’s expression this way. “Preference?”
“Whatever you want.”
Derek turns on the radio and tries to focus on driving. Will is leaning against the glass, watching the passing scenery. The twenty minutes pass in silence except for the pulsing beats of the songs and one very loud swear word (because that’s what turn signals were invented for, and who even gave that moron a license?).
His hopes and fears are swelling into a crescendo.
They pull up in the parking lot and hurry inside from the night’s chill. When they enter, his place is still strewn with half-graded papers and textbooks; he cringes and starts piling them neatly. “Okay. Um, first things first. Tea, coffee?”
“No, I’m good.” Will sits on the couch, glancing around. His expression is still hard, but Derek can see that he’s jittery, bouncing his leg up and down unconsciously.
He leaves the books, sits next to Will and forces himself to make eye contact. “Shit. Okay, I gotta say this, so let me talk at you first. I’m sorry. I was caught up in my work last year, and exhausted, and I missed you like crazy and I thought if I had less to think about, it would be easier.”
“Derek—”
“Wait. I know that we both agreed that long distance wasn’t working, but I’m the one that broke up with you. And it didn’t work. I mean, I finished the degree, but I was twice as miserable. After I graduated I didn’t even try to rebound. I just gave up.”
“I was miserable too,” Will cuts in. He reaches for Derek’s hand and folds it into his. His countenance is transformed, and suddenly Derek can see his Will again, trusting and vulnerable and scared. “It’s not the same, but still. I couldn’t be there for you, and long distance was lonely, and I felt even worse when we talked. So I thought the breakup could be a chance to try dating other guys. After seven years, you know? But there was nobody who - who made me feel like you do.”
Derek sucks in a breath. “I know this is completely unfair after I called it off. And long distance sucks, but I would rather have that, whatever I can get. I’ll fly out on weekends. We’ll Skype more. I’ve got three months off now in the summer, so I’ll teach a program near you. Please, let’s try again.”
Will’s face breaks into an irrepressible smile. “Derek. Derek, I came because I got a job offer in Boston.”
“…You what?”
“I’m not a West Coast guy. It’s been two years and I want to switch jobs. Shitty said you were still single, and I had to try, so I’ve been looking in the area. But I didn’t want to say anything if I didn’t get it. They told me last weekend.”
“Wait, I thought you were here for a conference.”
“I found one here and convinced my boss to let me go. I had to ask you in person, except you asked me, so.”
Derek is beaming and pulls Will closer, and Will moves to straddle his lap. “So you were already planning to get back together? Do you know how much I stressed through dinner? Or this week? Did you see my face? You couldn’t have done this four hours ago?”
Will laughs. “I know it’s you, but I didn’t know if you missed me. I was so nervous I was shaking. And technically you haven’t answered yet.”
“Yes! Of course, yes, move into my place now. I love you. But what the hell, Poindexter! Do you know how bad this night was for my heart?”
“I’m so sorry, really. I’ll make it up to you right now.” Will places his glasses on the coffee table and leans in, brushes his lips lightly across Derek’s. Derek threads his fingers through Will’s longer hair, which is an enjoyable new discovery, then pulls him in for a gentle kiss. Will presses his tongue forward, Derek opens his mouth obligingly, and they make out until they can hardly breathe. With a parting gasp, Will suddenly grinds down, and Derek hums in pleasure, tugs off Will’s sweater and tosses it to the ground.
Will suddenly looks into Derek’s eyes. He’s gone pink, even to his shoulders. “Fuck, it’s been so long.”
Derek brushes a finger against Will’s jaw. “Want to make up for lost time?”
Will rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”
Derek chuckles, then moves to suck on Will’s neck; Will’s complained about hickeys before, but he’s also confessed (while tipsy) that he likes them. If his freckles are constellations, then Derek is creating nebulae, purple clouds blooming in the wake of Derek’s mouth. Will lets out a low moan of pleasure even as he undoes Derek’s buttons with practiced ease. The heat of Will’s fingers on his chest makes Derek’s nerves sing, and he can’t believe he forgot how it feels to ghost his fingers down Will’s back until he shivers, to slide his hands down past the sharp angle of Will’s hips. It’s frantic and too slow and they know exactly what to do, of course they know, every movement tingling and yet sweetly familiar, a love poem being written into each other’s skin.
It’s Will who pulls back and says huskily, “The bedroom, maybe?”
Derek is smiling so much it hurts. “Lead the way.”
Will: he is def NOT going to be back tonight - DN
Lardo: Congrats lovebirds. Also thx, won my bet w/ Bitty. You made me $100
Will: what were the terms? - DN
Lardo: Stop signing, I know who you are
I said you'd txt before midnight
Will: you're welcome...treat me to something good
Oh my god. Please ignore him Lardo.
Lardo: No can do Dex, this is too much fun. Shits & Bits say congrats too
Will sets the phone down on the nightstand. “It’s like our sophomore year all over again. It looks like a baby punched me in the neck.” His frustrated growl forces Derek to swallow a chuckle. “You asshole. They are going to give me so much crap.”
“No, they are going to give both of us so much crap.” Derek pulls Will back under the covers and smooths back his coppery locks. “I like your hair longer.”
“Can you imagine them as parents?”
"Shitty and Lardo?”
“Yeah. I feel like they’ll be good at it.”
“Those lucky kids will be their entire world.”
“I have a thing to ask you.”
“Shoot.”
“But we just made up, so maybe…”
“It’s me, Will.”
“True. Well, I was thinking after we broke up that I do want kids. Not now, but you know. In a few years. I don’t know about you, though.” Will rolls towards Derek, looking tense.
Derek laces their fingers together. “I do too. But only with you.”
Will chuckles. “You’ve gotten so cheesy, Mr. Poetry.”
“But you love my sweet talk. Wanna be my babyyy daddyyyy, hmmmm?” Derek plops on top of Will, the blankets getting tangled in their legs.
“Get off, you’re so heavy! Off!” Will laughs despite himself. “Stop, your feet are freezing.”
Derek lifts himself up, looks down at Will’s flushed face and bright eyes. “How about I warm you up?”
“Again, really?”
“Is that a no?”
Will gives him a sly look. “I didn’t say that.”
Derek smirks victoriously and pulls Will in close.