How Did We Get Into This Mess - KOTLC Oneshots

Not The Damn Time | Fedex Songfic

( Inspired by Taylor Swift's Gold Rush, Gorgeous, and So It Goes- but mostly Gold Rush )

Watching the Vacker's get in Sophie's minivan, Dex silently fumed. It was bad enough to be in the humid, sticky heat, but Fitz Vacker was there too. He couldn't even appreciate the air conditioning. It made him so mad to see how easily attractive Fitz was. His white shirt was clinging to the features of his body, strong jawline drawing attention with the gleaming sheen of sweat Dex somehow wasn't repulsed by.

The worst part about the dinner party would be trying not to fall into the Vacker's stupidly gorgeous teal eyes. Why did he have to be so damn good-looking? It made it all that much harder to hate him when he flashed his unfairly charming smile.

"It's a left here," Marella said, leaning forward. "Then pass the next two rights, and turn left again."

"Remind us why you know the exact route to Linh's house," Keefe jokes. He was sitting shotgun, and narrowly evaded the punch coming his way.

"Only if you remind us why you were already in the car when we passed your house."

Sophie rolled her eyes, grinning slightly.

"And whose business is that?" Fitz jumped in, defending his best friend.

"I just felt the need to point it out."

"So you weren't deflecting?"

"I find your implication completely irrelevant."

"We're here," Dex interrupted. He'd heard enough of Fitz's crisply accented voice. Now he wanted bacon.

Sophie slowly turned the wheel all the way to the right and began to reverse, turning the wheels straight and to the left then straightening and going forward before exhaling and putting the car in park.

"Should we clap now, or . . ."

"Marella, you failed your driving test, you can't talk! If Keefe can do it, so can you."

"Hey!"

"Please just get out of my car," Sophie groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "I'll sic Iggy on you if you don't, I swear to god."

Everybody scrambled to unbuckle, not wanting to discover what a squirrel bite felt like.

Linh and Tam's home was a jumble of culture- and for good reason too. Both sets of their grandparents had met in America. Their grandmother on their mothers side was Vietnamese, their grandfather on their mothers side was Korean, while their grandmother on their fathers side was Japanese, and their grandfather Chinese.

"Welcome to our home," Miss Mai said, smiling warmly. She ushered them into a dining room with panes of glass instead of walls, and an open archway leading to the beach on their property.

"How come we left with the triplets and still arrived before you all?" Kesler asked, laughing."Sophie insists on staying five below the speed limit." Edaline explained proudly. Grady rolled his eyes discreetly, earning an elbow to his side.

"Fitz was the same way," Della reminisced. "Until he started driving Keefe around."

"I'm a great influence," Keefe agreed.

"Biana though . . . Biana's a speed demon! One minute I'd be worrying over custody, then I'd be fearing for my life!"

Fitz snickered, coughing to disguise his snort. Dex found the corner of his mouth lifting, and crushed his smile before it could fully form.

"I'm hoping the day the triplets need driving lessons will be when I'm sent somewhere for my desk job."

Juline was in the CIA, which was what she referred to as her desk job. So was Della. All of the teens wanted to join, and had started training amongst themselves. Fitz was planning on applying as soon as his eighteenth birthday hit.

Dex hated how he knew the littlest things about Fitz. Like how whenever he bit his bottom lip, he bit it twice, once on each side. Or the fact he still had a princess dress in his closet he used to wear when he was little. Or that his favorite Disney princess was still Belle, because she liked to read. His celebrity crush was Tom Holland, then Ryan Reynolds, then Gal Gadot. His favorite color was a coppery bronze, like the embroidery on his prayer shawl. And he still missed his dad, even though he recognized how much the man's conditional love and unrealistic expectations had messed him up.

Fitz's hand brushed Dex's under the table, and he broke out of his trance to look up at Fitz's furrowed brow and concerned countenance. His lips were parted the smallest amount. Dex realized their pinkies were interlocked, and pulled away, tortuous heat rising to his cheeks.

"I'm ok," he breathed out, turning to his siblings. He berated them, yanking them out from under the table back into their seats. "I'd advise everyone to check their shoelaces," he said wryly, his flush dissipating.

Juline scolded the trio, telling Kesler they should never have let the triplets go to boy scouts, to which he argues the internet could teach them knots just as well.

"So, senior year's coming up, huh," Grady said, directing his comment at Fitz.

"Yup."

"Have you applied to Duke? It's where I met Edaline, you know. Maybe you'll find somebody there for you!"

Dex's leg bounced with nervous energy, his fork tap-tap-tapping silently on his napkin.

"I have applied, actually. To all the Ivies, and a couple pretty cool business schools."

"Lot's of smart people there. You might even be able to find someone who matches you for wit!"

"Now, that might be a big ask," Della jokes, beaming.

"Don't we know it!"

With that comment, Dex pushed away from the table, rushing through excusing himself and practically sprinting out across the sand. Running down the beach, he sank to his knees, leaning his head back against the poles supporting the dock. He caught his breath, eyes closed.

Wasn't he smart enough? Good enough? Why couldn't he at least be an option, however unappealing? Not that he would ever . . . not that he wanted to . . . not that he'd ever thought about it, dreamed about it, or felt his heart hurt from denial.

"Hey." A voice whispered from above.

Fitz stood before him, back to the beach. It would be the perfect painting, with the shadows of almost-night, the shine of the moon illuminating the outline of his figure. His hair gently waved to the side, the wind brushing it to the side of his forehead.

"Not you." Dex groaned. "Not now. This is the worst possible timing you could ever have."

He rose to his feet, crossing his arms.

"Dex . . . why do you hate me?"

"You really want the answer to that. An honest one?"

"Yes."

"Well, part of it is how effortlessly handsome you are. It's a terrible injustice. And then there's how every single person wants you- even me! It's despicable! Or how contrarian you are with your niche music taste- as soon as it blows up, you pretend to dislike it."

" . . . even you?"

The words cycled in Fitz's mind, a mesmerizing repetition. The echo he needed to be true.

"Unfortunately. It's a nightmare."

"I'm not sorry," Fitz stated softly, stepping forward.

"What?"

"I said, I'm not sorry."

His face was mere inches away. Dex's arms drop, a hand on his hip.

"Are you going to tell me why, or am I going to stand here waiting for an explanation that isn't coming?"

"You're really going to make me say it?"

"God, just kiss me already."

"Are you sure?"

"What did I just say, Wonderboy?"

Fitz swooped forward, stealing kiss after kiss as Dex fisted his hands in the fabric of Fitz's shirt, his back pressed up against the dock.

"I hate how much I love this," Dex confessed angrily, breath releasing in a shudder.

"We should probably address that," Fitz murmured. He smiled against Dex's lips.

"Not the damn time."

He clutched the back of Fitz's collar, pressing their bodies back together in a fit of frustration.

There was a muffled, high-pitched noise of surprise. Dex felt a rush of satisfaction. He had made that happen. Him!

"We should probably go back inside," Dex whispered later, wetting his lips. His chest ascended and fell with his exhale.

"I'd like to quote you."

"Never a good sign."

"Not the damn time."