#I've no idea how I wrote nurseyrans that still featured justin and adam but

[imaginethehaus]

Hey! Can you some Ransom x Nursey angst? Maybe about they want to do in the future? But it ends in fluff.

Holster sighed. He didn’t bother trying to do so quietly. If today was anything like the last three, Ransom was so engrossed in The Excel™  that he wasn’t even aware of Holster’s presence. Judging by the line of tension Holster could see running between Rans’ shoulders, he’d been staring at the damn thing since he’d gotten out of his 2 o’clock class.

“Rans, this is the fourth time I’ve found you with The Excel™ and….” Holster leaned over to look at the screen, confirming what he already knew. “You haven’t actually saved a change in over two weeks.”

Rans jumped and swiveled in his seat, adorably trying to hide his screen by putting more of himself between it and Holster.

“Holtzy, hey, hi, hello, just -- you know -- giving it -- uh -- a….perusal.”

Holster barked out a surprised laugh.

“A -- did you just say ‘perusal’?”

“I...yes. Fuck.” Ransom collapsed back in his chair, running his hands over his face.  “Yes, I just said perusal.”

“You lie for shit, bro. You were stressing yourself out, again, is what you were doing.” Holster gave Ransom a moment and headed to the dresser to drop off his bag before kicking his shoes into the closet. “We need to go over The Excel™ Commandment again?”

Holster heard Rans mutter the commandment to himself while Holster stripped out of his sweatshirt:

“The Master Workbook, while a remarkable wonder of planning and foresight, yet remains a poor substitute for human consultation.”

“Amen,” Holster agreed, stepping back out of the closet to lean against the dresser and look Ransom over again. They were nowhere near finals level of reefdom delicacy, but the furrow in Rans’ brow, the dejected tilt of his shoulders, telegraphed “big, meaningful, frustrating decision. “So consult me, bro.”

“How do I make this work?” Holster waited. Despite popular belief, he couldn’t actually read Ransom’s mind. He just knew how to wait for his answers. “I’m moving in three months, starting med school, gonna have to join an organization or two to build up my resume without hockey. How do I do that and give this thing with Derek a chance, eh?”

Holster’s brows shot up even as he felt a smile spread across his face.

“Derek, eh?”

Ransom blushed -- did that self conscious averting of eyes and throat-clearing, the tell-tale forehead scratch that lets Holster know he’d hit his target dead on.

“Holtzy --”

“Aw, Ransypoo!” Holster bounded over to Rans, collapsed onto his lap and pinched his too warm cheeks.

“Bruh!” Rans yelled before attempting to push Holster to the floor.

“Rans! You’re in looooooooove!” Holster couldn’t say he was proud of the wrestling match that ensued, but it left Ransom laughing and relaxed, and that was worth a little loss of dignity.

“I might be… strongly in Like,” Ransom finally huffed.

“Ok, you blush when you talk about him -- by his first name, I might add -- you come back from your little super top secret dates grinning, for like hours. You didn’t come home from Winter Screw for two days. You have a folder of notes in your phone dedicated to his angry love poetry. You’ve spent the last five roadies talking politics with him and Dex. You’ve added like 10 books from his List of Book Every American Should Read List to our bookshelf. Your face does that soft glow thing you do every time he enters a room. You check your phone every morning for his texts. You’ve been up past midnight every night since the last forever texting him. And you’ve been staring at The Excel™ for the last week trying to figure out how to make it work after we graduate.”

“Fuck. Yeah.”

“Because you want it to work. Past this summer, into next year.”

“Or, you know...longer.”

“Damn, bro.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’ll make it work.”

Holster could feel Ransom’s eyes on him.

“Just like that -- I just ‘make it work’? Long distance --”

“Just 30 minutes --”

“Busy as hell --”

“Not much busier than him, with two degrees and hockey --”

“And… serious.”

Holster’s eyes shot to Ransom’s face. The doubt he found there broke his heart. Ransom had to be the only person in the world who couldn’t see Nursey’s star-eyed adoration a mile off.

“Bro, Nursey literally trips over himself when you enter a room. He’s like deeply, grossly, into you.”

“Bro…”

“Fuck, wait -- Rans, you know what I mean!” Holster’s the one who was blushing then, but the laughter that came bursting from Rans was worth it.

“Seriously though, you think he’d be willing to try it out?”

“Yeah, I really do,” Holster grinned.

“Ok. Ok. Human consultation, right?”  Rans scrambled up from the floor. “I should talk to him.” He launched himself into the closet. “About, about trying.”

A series of thuds and “umphs” erupted as Ransom presumably found shoes and sweater.

“Yup.”

Ransom fell out of the closet, not unlike his soon-to-be boyfriend, and pocketed his phone before moving toward the door.

“Because he’s into me, eh?”

“Shut up,” Holster laughed. “Go get your man.”

Ransom broke into a face-splitting grin.

“Yeah, ok.” And he was flying down the stairs and out of the Haus.