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1. Jack
Jack's kind of slumped over the kitchen table, but he looks up when Holster walks in. "Hey," he says, "Who are you bringing to the Spring C?"
"Uh, Ransom?" Holster says, blinking at him in surprise. "Duh. Why?"
Jack shrugs, which is a pretty comical sight since he's still half-faceplanted into his cereal. The dude clearly spent way too much time at Faber this morning, probably before the sun was up. "Bittle wants to make place cards or something."
"But the C's not…" Holster trails off, looking around the kitchen. Bits does have incredible persuasive skills, especially if he's bribing people with baked goods, but there's no possible way he's convinced the powers that be to relocate an entire annual dance to the Haus. No pie (not even, Queen Bey forgive him, Bitty's) is good enough to convince the administration that this place is structurally sound.
Jack shrugs again. Holster's, like, almost positive his eyes are actually shut. "He wants to do a thing. Like pre-gaming, but with dinner I guess. Are you bringing a date? He asked me to ask."
Holster gives him a weird look as he opens the fridge — hell yeah, looks like Shitty scored some beer space. He grabs a Coors and pops the tab. "Yeah, bro. Rans. I just said." He shakes his head as he walks out the door. "Get some fuckin' sleep, man," he says gently. He doesn't turn around to see if Jack flips him off, but odds are he does.
_/
2. Shitty
Shitty flops down next to Holster on the green couch, dislodging the textbooks in his lap as he puts his bare feet in their place. Holster readjusts his glasses, settles his notes on Shitty's ankles, and keeps working.
"Dude," he says after a minute. Shitty hands over the joint.
"Dude," he says again, after he's passed the joint back and gone back to attempting to stare Keynes into submission. "Did you know Jack didn't know Rans and I are dating?"
"... What." Shitty says. He's a little slow to respond, but totally fair, because what? Also he's probably pretty stoned right now.
"I know! He asked me about taking a date to the C, and Rans said he asked him, too. Like, I know we take chicks to stuff sometimes but it's not that weird that we're not this time, right?"
Shitty pulls his feet off Holster's lap and sits up straight. "What," he says again.
"Seriously. Sometimes it's like, if it's not hockey, y'know?"
"Oh my god," Shitty says. He stands up, and Holster looks over at him for the first time; it's, like, a triple-take but eventually he realizes Shitty's underwear are just way too close in color to his actual skin. Totally there, though. He's staring at Holster in a kind of horror. "I have to rewrite ... an entire chapter of my thesis."
Holster's eyes widen. "Fuck, dude. Good luck!" he calls after Shitty's retreating form. Maybe there's some extra wisdom in Rhianna when you're stoned, he figures, and wonders if he should crank it so Shitty can hear it upstairs.
\_
3. Bitty
"Ihaveaquestionandpleasedon'tbeupsetwithmeyoudon'thavetoanswerifyoudon'twantto," Bitty says. He's standing in the doorway of their bedroom, looking half like he's ready to tumble backward down the stairs.
"Uh," Holster says.
Ransom swings his legs over the side of the bottom bunk. "What's up, bro?"
Holster can see Bitty's eyes flick from Rans to the top bunk to Holster and back again. He's not carrying any sort of baked good, which is … some kind of a sign. This is either really urgent (too time-sensitive even for magic pie appearing skills) or really not (not worthy of even the merest tarts).
Also, he's not saying anything.
"Bits?" he prompts. Bitty flushes scarlet.
"Jack told me …" He takes a deep breath. And then another one. "Jack told me you guys are going to the Spring C together? Like a date? Like a … dating … date?"
Holster locks eyes with Ransom, who looks as perplexed as he feels. Is he asking what I think he's asking? he asks, but with his mind. He's pretty sure that Ransom's thinking the same thing at him back.
It's quiet for a minute while he and Rans talk with their minds — he hopes that's what they're doing, anyway, or else they're totally just gazing into each other's eyes. Which actually would probably answer Bitty's question about as well. Also, Ransom has super pretty eyes so it's a valid use of time.
Ransom breaks the eye contact and leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. Holster follows his gaze back to Bitty, who still kind of looks like he's going to fall over and/or die and/or spontaneously combust.
"Bitty," Ransom says after a moment. "Bro. How did you think we know all the gay athletes on campus?"
_/
4. Chowder
"I dunno," Holster says. He knows this isn't the answer Chowder wants, but he really doesn't have a better one. "We were just kinda … insta-bros."
"And then bros plus," Ransom adds. Holster nods.
"Yeah, that probs helped. Reading body language, and just —"
"Generally being in sync. And moving together."
"I would not generally recommend having sex as a D-line how-to, though," Holster clarifies quickly.
Chowder's eyes are, like, saucer big. "You guys have sex?" he squeaks.
Rans laughs. "Well, yeah. After three years?"
Holster knocks their shoulders together, and then just kind of stays there, resting against him. "Although," he says, looking at Chowder as seriously as possible while resisting the urge to start a full-on cuddle. Totally not appropriate for the situation. "Don't feel obligated. Like, ever. Even if you're dating someone or whatever, don't let her — or him —"
"Or them or xer," Ransom interjects. Holster resists the urge to roll his eyes and say 'Thanks Shits,' because he knows it's totally true, and it's on him to not be a dick about it. He's working on it.
"— pressure you into it," he finishes. "If you fuck right away, that's cool, but it's also cool if you never do. You do you, bro."
Rans nods sagely. "And let them do them. Or whatever. You gotta let these things work themselves out, y'know?"
Chowder nods quickly, but it somehow doesn't really seem like they helped.
\_
5. Lardo
"Holster!" It never fails to amaze him how loud Lardo can be, or how she can somehow manage to give the appearance of being right up in his face. "Beer pong! Now!"
He elbows Ransom in the side. "You in?"
Lardo shakes her head. Her hair's starting to get a little long again, and her bangs do a super cute flippy thing. She jabs Holster in the chest. "You and me, bro. Let's do this. These soccer girls are saying they can dominate."
"Nah." Ransom finishes his beer, and crushes the can in his fist, which would probably seem like an intimidation tactic if he were up against anyone other than Lardo, who could not possibly manage to give fewer fucks. "He's mine this round. Boyfriend privilege. Go get Shits, or something."
She contemplates the idea, and seems to find it satisfactory. "You guys play us next round? Hetero lifemates edition."
Holster starts to agree before she's even finished talking, but Ransom stops him with a crushed beer can to the chest. He takes it, even though that probably hadn't been Rans' intent, and starts idly looking around for a clear surface on which to deposit it.
Holster's taller, but Ransom still has to pretty much bend in half to get eye-to-eye with Lardo. It would look pretty comical even if she didn't get this completely indignant look every time, but that totally makes it. It's loud, but they're close enough that he can still hear everything Rans is saying.
"Lardo. Lards. Larissa explains it all. L.D. I need you to give it to me straight here." (No pun intended, Holster thinks.) "Does no one on this team realize me and Holtzy have been dating since freshman year?"
Lardo takes a step back quickly enough that it startles Ransom into standing upright again. One hand slaps over her mouth, then peels off so she can finish her beer in one long chug. "Oh my god," she says. "Shitty's gonna have to redo an entire chapter of his thesis."
_/
+1. Johnson
"Johnson! What's up brah? Yeah, this was totally a convenient time for you to call. How's the real world? Well — I dunno, I think you're more in the real world than us. College bubble, right? Uh, I guess it's kind of an insular narrative. I mean, is life after college more three dimensional? Hey, while I've got you — you know about Rans and me, right? Uh, I'm not sure which way would provide more dramatic irony. You're definitely relevant, bro, that's why I'm asking. Well — not totally central, but I think we're kinda — I mean relative to Bitty, yeah. But ... you do know we're dating, right?"
\_
+2.
"Do you think the ghosts are dating?"
Holster blinks himself awake. "... What?"
"I mean, if there were ghosts. And if ghosts could date, which they can't, because ghosts aren't real. But like, they have the top bunk to themselves mostly. Do you think ghosts float while they're fucking? Do you ever hear the bed creak when we're not in it?"
"Bro," he says patiently. "Lay back down and go the fuck to sleep. I will fucking cuddle you into submission if I have to."
"... You'd do that anyway," Ransom points out.
"... True. But c'mon." He tugs on Ransom's arm until he's folded back down against him, an arm flung across his chest and their knees knocked together. Ransom tucks his face into the curve of Holster's neck. Holster presses a kiss to the top of his head. "Love you, Rans."
Ransom hums happily, snuggling closer. "Love you too."