Work Text:
Dex feels as though he inhabits the moment before taking a punch.
The low hum of the kitchen light. The distant sound of the TV someone must have left on, someone upstairs opening and closing a door. The tacky feel of the floor sticking to his bare feet. Nursey is looking right at him, and he really can’t quite catch his breath. This suffocating, smothering electricity is pressing into him from all angles. The clock ticking past midnight on the wall, the awareness that everyone else is asleep or heading to bed, Nursey’s gaze- unwavering.
“I just, uh, wanted a drink of water,” Dex’s voice says without consulting the rest of his body. Well, good on the voice for taking charge when his brain has become totally useless. Nursey is looking at him so intently- his face, his neck, his arms, his ankles, his eyes, his eyes, his goddamn soul.
He feels the sweat start to pool in on his palms, can almost feel it drip down his fingers, imagines it pooling into droplets on his fingertips. He’d already been sweating- it’s a humid night- and he smells it on himself. He takes a breath and breathes out and it fills the room, and Nursey stares at him. And then he blinks but keeps his eyes closed for about a beat too long.
He is so gorgeous but it’s not even about that. His hair is mussed and his skin is smooth and his jaw is strong and the lines of him cut into Dex from across the room but it’s not even about that.
It is this: his eyes, boring into Dex’s, and the weight of the moment in the kitchen. It is this: The odd feeling of waking in the night and going downstairs and seeing a person when you didn't expect to. It is this: Nursey looking at Dex like he looks at his books.
He is stood by the sink and Dex is stood by the door and all the space between them is charged with it.
“Me, too,” Nursey replies, eventually. His voice is so nice and deep and warm and he gestures to the cup in his hand. His strong, clever fingers are wrapped around it, and Dex sees the places where they’ve marked the condensation- meaning the glass is cold, and full of cold water. Meaning he must have gotten it from a pitcher in the fridge. Dex wouldn’t have thought to do that but on a humid evening like this, fresh, cold water sounds perfect.
“You want…?” Nursey starts and then trails off, his voice getting impossibly quiet as he holds out the glass in front of him. His steady arm, his steady stance, his steady gaze.
Dex steps forward and finds himself nodding, and the floor sticks to his feet with each step he takes. Nursey looks at Dex’s feet and then his shins and his gaze travels upwards again. Dex feels oddly vulnerable and is suddenly, startlingly aware of all the places he is bare- his feet his arms his ankles his neck- and what that skin looks like- pale and dry and sweaty and freckled. He feels raw, somehow. By the time Nursey’s looking in his eyes again Dex is close enough to reach out and take the glass. They both hold the glass, for a second, before Nursey lets go. Why are things always so heavy with him? Why does everything mean something? Why is he looking at Dex like that? Really looking?
Dex puts the water to his lips and Nursey watches that too, and the moment is so inappropriately, wonderfully sexy. Something blooms warm and silky in the pool of Dex’s stomach, buzzing in his palms and his feet- and he was right; the cool water is perfect.
Dex swallows the water, Nursey’s eyes track the movement. Dex moves the glass away from his mouth, Nursey’s eyes track the movement. Dex wipes the back of his hand over his mouth, and Nursey watches him like he’s about to burst into flames.
Dex puts the glass down on the counter behind him and Nursey stares at Dex’s throat and Dex stares at Nursey’s staring and then Nursey says, “Dex” and every other sound on the continent is muted bar the ocean rushing in Dex’s ears.
A sure arm reaches out and then falls just before it touches Dex’s jaw and suddenly it is the only thing he needs- touch and contact- skin on skin on muscle on muscle on each other, but he’s frozen. Every part of his body is hypersensitive- so aware of the floor sticking to his feet and his sweatpants bunching at his ankles and the difference between that and the cotton of his t-shirt.
He takes a step forward, suddenly unable to stop himself, and wraps four fingers and a thumb around Nursey’s elbow; his thumb pressing against that sensitive area on the inner arm, that precious juncture that allows bending. Something about it is tantalising. It feels smooth and odd and fragile and he squeezes just a little bit.
Nursey’s head drops, and he breathes out long and hard, through his nose.
Something in Dex knows how important this is. He considers the first time they met and he considers every moment since, and then he leans forward just a little bit more so that their heads are resting against each other, and Nursey says again, “Dex”, but he says it like it’s vital and painful and he’s passionate about the argument but not fully sure of the point he’s making.
“Yeah?” Dex replies, but it’s more like a whisper or a tease or a dare. He feels his throat constrict around the word even as he forces it out. His heart beats against his ribs and his ears and his fingertips.
And then Nursey leans his beautiful head forward just a few inches more and kisses Dex’s neck.
Dex bursts into flames- his arms loop around Nursey's neck in a way that feels sleazy and good, and Nursey wraps his sure arms around Dex’s waist and he says; “Jesus, Dexy, God,” into the underside of Dex’s jaw like they’re all the same to him.
And then lips are dragging up Dex’s neck and his cheek- soft lips and hard teeth- until their noses hold them apart. They breathe the same air for maybe a second or maybe a while. Dex is dizzy and wants to say something really odd like “I want you to swallow me whole” but luckily before he can Nursey croaks like a starving or drowning or dying man-
“Can I kiss you?”
And Dex says
“I demand it.”
He takes the punch.