Work Text:
The love around Lexi has always been messy, turning her family and her friends into the worst possible versions of themselves. Desperate, angry, pleading until they become someone she no longer is able to recognize.
It starts with her parents, as it often does. Her mom turning to alcohol after her dad has chosen drugs over them, drinking herself into a stupor in the days following him leaving, sobbing on the couch and leaving two young girls to look after her and themselves.
Later, she sees it in Maddy, in her relationship with Nate. The way she shows up at the Howard house in tears again and again after one too many nights, then defends the purple bruises on her neck and arms in the next breath. She’s not happy with him and yet is never happy without.
Even Rue, and the tumultuous relationship she has with Jules. The way she ruins herself when Jules gets on the train to leave East Highland, to leave her behind. It’s the lowest Lexi has ever seen her in their years and years and years of friendship.
And of course, the way Cassie loses herself entirely simply because Nate tells her he loves her, even when his actions do nothing but contradict his words. There are times when she feels like she doesn’t have a sister anymore, when she doesn’t even recognize the girl she has shared a room with her entire life when they pass each other in the hallway.
Lexi had never got it, how the people she cares the most about would put themselves through so much pain and misery and devastation as they chase after something that’s meant to be hopeful, happy, fulfilling.
She thinks she might understand it now, not that the person she loves would ever put her in a position like that, but she knows if it were to come down to it, she would probably ruin herself to hold onto this, too.
New Year’s Eve is not supposed to be a beginning. It’s supposed to be a goodbye; a letting go before the clock strikes midnight, but for Lexi, it turns out to be the start of something.
She hadn’t shown up to the house party planning on having a particularly good time, not after the shit show in the car with Cassie, knowing she was going to be spending the rest of her night worrying until her sister finally (hopefully) surfaced. Lexi was pissed at her for not answering her phone, even if she did feel slightly bad for leaving her on the side of the road.
So, when she finds herself on a sunken, striped couch in conversation with Fezco, and tries to ignore the way her stomach twists at the way he looks at her, it is strange to be feeling so much like something is starting when December 31st is decidedly an end. It is also decidedly strange to be feeling so heard by someone who has been on the peripheral of her life for the last few years, who has no reason to be listening so intently as she nervously rambles about Pagans and pee and how he’s maybe not getting into heaven. If she wasn’t the designated driver for the night, she could really use a drink.
It’s too warm in the house, and Lexi is almost glad that her cheeks are already flushed from the humidity that has somehow made its way inside with the hundreds of sweaty bodies taking over the first floor. At least this way she can pretend that her red face is from overheating, rather than a blush that has crept up her neck and not gone away since Fez started talking to her. It should be illegal for him to look at her with hooded blue eyes like that. It should be illegal for him to look so good as he flicks his lighter, the flame’s reflection dancing on the gold chain laying against his green sweater, as he lights a joint.
It is almost midnight and it is supposed to be ending, but he is asking for her number and saying words Lexi has a hard time believing and somehow, in a way she never could have ever imagined, never would have ever thought up while envisioning how this night would go, New Year’s Eve is a beginning.
It is late February and too chilly to be sitting on the roof of the store well past midnight, and yet there they are.
Lexi had called earlier (because that’s what they do, they call, call, call) after a particularly rough fight with Cassie, which they have been having an increasing number of in the last two months for reasons Lexi still hasn’t figured out, and he had told her to come hang so she’d hopped on her bike without a second thought.
She’d found Fezco on the roof, an old hangout of her and Rue’s, where he’d pulled a pair camping chairs up the ladder, had the crocheted blanket from his living room thrown over the back of the free one (she’s been over to his house a few times, always ends up tucked up underneath it. It smells ashy and old in a way that has become weirdly comforting). The fact that he’d noticed, had cared enough to run home in the hour since she’d called and shown up to grab it for her, meant something to her that she couldn’t quite place.
She’d climbed the ladder in her little loafers, pulled the blanket over her lap as she sat, grateful for the quiet and the dark and the way Fez had asked, “You okay?” as a greeting.
That had been hours ago, and they’d now pushed their chairs closer together so the blanket could drape across both of their legs, sipping hot chocolate Fez had brought them from the machine in the store downstairs, Cassie problems forgotten for now.
“Yo, this tastes like shit,” Fezco drawls, making Lexi laugh.
“It’s not that bad,” she says, paper cup grasped between her hands, holding onto any warmth she can get. “If you don’t breathe while you drink it, it’s like, almost good.”
“You ain’t gotta drink that. Wouldn’t’a brought it up if I knew it was nasty. Thought it’d be nice.”
“No, no. It is nice,” Lexi says, unable to contain her grin over the rim of her cup. This sip tastes a little sweeter than the last, though she’s definitely sure it’s not because the drink has gotten any better. “It’s great, Fezco. Thank you.”
She is so thankful to have this. Not the hot chocolate, obviously, but to have this person in her life who remembers the blanket she likes and brings her hot chocolate they can drink together on a roof at midnight. Who listens to her rant about her sister, acts as the soundboard for her play, speaks slowly and deliberately when he replies to let her know that he’s really heard what she says and responds with something more thoughtful in ten words than she would have been able to come up with in a hundred. Who sits here on the roof with her, watches the East Highland night quietly, then insists on driving her home when her eyes start to get heavy, even though she could spend the entire night here talking.
There is something heavy in the way she feels as she sits in the passenger seat of the Cadillac, watching the orange-yellow glow of the streetlights brush over Fezco’s profile every so often. The warm light makes sense when it bathes him, she thinks. Makes sense because that is the way he makes her feel: safe and warm and something else she isn’t ready to put a name to.
Instead, she looks straight ahead out the windshield, pretending to be totally casual and normal and not at all nervous as she reaches out the way he had the weekend before, lets her pinky brush gently against his hand on the gear shift, bites down hard on the inside of her cheek when he flips it over and clasps his fingers through hers.
She watches him smile in her peripheral.
Lexi relishes in the time she spends talking to Fezco on the phone, his voice low and soothing coming through her Airpods when she sits at the dining room table working on her play, when she’s curled up in her bed at night, her phone pressed closely against her ear. They always keep their voices low, keep their conversations just for them even when there’s nobody else around to hear Lexi speak.
These days, it’s more often than not that she is alone in her house, with Cassie having gone so far off the rails that she’s moved in with Nate fucking Jacobs and her mom either out with friends in the evenings or having drank herself to sleep by 7pm.
So, Fezco keeps her company, his thoughts a welcome distraction as she makes last-minute adjustments to her script, or gets ready for bed, or hits play on the pilot episode of Little House on the Prairie so they can watch it at the same time from their separate houses, making running commentary on the Ingalls family.
Sometimes, when she’s talking to him, Lexi is unable to filter her thoughts. She’s always been a little bit like that with him, sharing her knowledge on various topics that anybody with access to Google could learn about, but the more they talk, the more things she has shared about herself without thinking. Like, when he’s inquired about her future and she’d told him about her dream of three kids in five years, unable to stop herself, not even thinking to stop herself, from sharing this very specific, probably weird plan. He’d taken it in stride though, telling her about the show they now watch tucked up on his couch or on the phone when they’re too busy to get together. (She decidedly does not think about the implications of him saying, “I mean, they got three kids on that show.” Doesn’t think she would be able to handle the implications of it).
Tonight, she’s burrowed under her blankets, phone pressed closely to her ear as Fezco utters the phrase, “Aren’t you glad that we became friends?”
She’s glad that he’s not there, can’t see her smiling so big as she utters a, “Very much so,” that feels wildly inadequate.
The conversation feels heavy suddenly in a way Lexi can’t quite explain, like it’s the culmination of all the little ways they’ve been sneaking around saying what they actually mean. The if I like a girl, I want to peel back the layers, the that’s what I like most about you, the that’s the important shit that people don’t post online.
Lexi will be the first to admit that she isn’t exactly well-versed in romantic relationships or flirting or any of the stuff she has more-or-less convinced herself is bullshit in all the years that she hasn’t been on the receiving end of it, but she would be silly to not realize that Fezco has been telling her something, is continuously telling her something every time they talk, every time they reach across the living room couch or the store counter or the center consul of the Cadillac to brush each other’s hands without ever acknowledging it.
Later, when they’ve hung up and her eyes are heavy with sleep, she will pull out her laptop, squinting at the brightness of the screen against the darkness of the night, and add a new line to her script.
A little exchange and I fall in love.
Fezco doesn’t make it to opening night.
Lexi knows in the back of her mind, in the pit of her stomach, that something bad has undoubtedly happened, because he wouldn’t have texted on my way if he didn’t mean it. She knows and trusts him enough to be absolutely certain that he’d be here if he could, that he’d have kept his word about showing up for her.
So, after the show, after she spends far too long being coddled and hugged and praised by her friends, which she appreciates, she really does, but she can’t shake the growing feeling of dread in her ribcage, she finally pulls her phone out of her pocket and beelines for her bike in the parking lot.
She’s told her mom she’s going to be home late because she’s going to the celebratory cast dinner at the diner and has told the cast that she can’t make the dinner because she has to deal with the Cassie repercussions. (Eventually, that will be true. Tonight, she just needs to get to Fezco).
It’s simultaneously relieving and terrifying when her phone screen finally comes to life after several hours of being shut off, buried beneath the depths of dark purple-y lipsticks and pages of old scripts in her bag, and a million texts from Faye come through all at once.
Lexi and Faye are cool in the times they’re both at Fez’s, maybe could even be considered friends when they paint their nails together on the floor of the living room, Faye thankful to get a little bit of girl time in when she can in a house full of boys. Still, they don’t really have a habit of texting each other.
faye: hiiiii lexi pls don’t be mad or panic
faye: but bad news
faye: police came to the house bc custer was fucking trying to set fez and ash up
faye: nothing like bad happened but fez and ash are being held
faye: i just got released. boys should get out soon bc cops don’t actually have shit on them and they’re obviously not going to fucking talk
faye: i went and grabbed the car so i’m just waiting for them
faye: also fez is fucking piiiiiissed that he missed ur show
faye: i spent all fucking day steaming his shirt. he was so excited it was actually really fucking cute
“Faye?” Lexi says as soon as the phone line connects. The texts are from a little less than an hour ago, and she’s shaking as she puts her phone to her ear.
“Hi! How did you play go?” Faye asks, as if a high school theatre production is at all what is important right now. Still, Lexi appreciates the thought.
“I promise I’ll tell you all about it later. Are you okay? Are Fez and Ash okay? What the fuck happened?”
Lexi plugs earbuds into her phone, shoves it in the pocket of her shorts kind of precariously, and hops on her bike. She listens as Faye explains what happened at the house earlier that evening, about laying on the floor with her hands behind her back as the police stormed through her house, about the three of them sitting squished together in the back of a cop car.
“It’s Laurie they’re after though,” Faye says towards the end of her recounting of events, like it’s a fact, and even though Lexi is pretty sure it’s not a fact, she is going to choose to believe it. “And they have no proof in the house for keeping them on any drug shit so it’s, like, all good.”
“Okay, good,” she says. “Good. I’m just pulling up to the house but will you text me when they get out? And you guys are on your way?”
“Definitely. And Lexi? Everything’s going to be fine.”
Lexi is thankful that Fezco gave her the code to the outside gate for emergency purposes, though she’s not entirely sure that he would constitute her breaking into his house on the night he’s been arrested as a worthwhile emergency. The door is unlocked, and she steps in tentatively, peaking head first into the dark house.
Overall, things don’t look as bad as she might have expected, though she’s never been in what may-or-may-not be considered a crime scene before, so she’s not really sure what she was expecting. Still, the furniture is all upright and the doors are all intact and the amount of blood on the floor is only mildly nauseating, which she hopes is a good thing.
It feels weird being here alone, without Fez or Faye or Ash to keep her company in a normally somewhat busy house, so she pulls a DVD from the large collection and turns the television on quietly for noise before she gets to work tidying up, unable to just wait idly when she could be doing something helpful.
It’s a big enough job that time passes relatively quickly as she picks up shards of glass from the kitchen floor, sweeps the dusty footprints tracking through the house, tries not to think about whose blood she’s mopping up to the soundtrack of a Nora Ephron film. Once the mess from that specific encounter is dealt with, she continues on, unable to stop herself from washing the dishes in the sink, putting together little snacks with the groceries she finds in the fridge in case anyone is hungry when they get home. (She’s not sure if you get fed when they’re holding you in prison, figures they might appreciate it after the day they’ve had).
By the time they get in, Lexi has succumbed to sitting on the couch, curled up under the brown blanket on the couch as she tries to stay awake for the end of Dirty Dancing, which is at least her third film of the night. There’s a chill in the house she hasn’t been able to shake since she finally sat down, and it comes in another burst when the front door opens.
She is on her feet in an instant, bringing the blanket with her as she practically trips over her feet in the rush to get to Fezco. She didn’t know it was possible to feel this relieved over seeing a group of people safe and unharmed, even if they’re looking a little grumpy.
“What the fuck,” is the first thing out of Lexi’s mouth.
“Yo, I’m real sorry, Lex,” Fezco says, pulls her into him without even thinking about it.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not your fault.”
“Nah, it was gonna be a whole thing. I had flowers for you n’ everything. Really wanted to be there.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says into his chest, cheek pressed into the white dress shirt Faye had spent the afternoon perfecting because Fez had asked her to for Lexi.
Somewhere, outside of this bubble she is in, she vaguely registers Faye whispering a somewhat aggressive “Ashtray!”, waving him out of the foyer to leave Lexi and Fez alone for a minute, and she’s grateful for that.
“You can come to, like, any of the other performances. Tonight was a shit show anyways, and your opinion is important so I want you to see, like, the real thing anyways. Without any weird interruptions or unscripted violence or anything.”
“I know it a fucking great play.”
“You haven’t even seen it yet,” Lexi says, pulling out of the hug just enough to look into his eyes, sitting in the relief that he is there, in front of her, smiling softly at her with the gap in his teeth.
“Yeah, but I know you,” Fez shrugs. There is a tenderness there, in the words, in his eyes, and she knows this is another one of those moments, another little exchange.
But tonight, he is here in front of her. Not on the phone, not taken away by the police. He is here, and he believes in her so wholly, sees her all the way through and still keeps showing up, still keeps asking for more, and she would be silly not to take advantage of that.
When she kisses him, uses up the last bit of braveness that has propelled her through this entire day, she feels like every choice she has made in the last few months has been leading her here. To the press of his hands against her back, to the feel of his mouth on hers, to the chain on his neck catching between her fingers as she tugs him closer.
“You gonna hang for a bit?” Fezco asks after, his hand tangled with hers. It’s far later than she should be here, she knows that, but tonight has already gone so far off the rails that she thinks a few more hours couldn’t hurt.
“Yeah. We can watch a movie or something,” she agrees, tries not to sound as breathless as she feels.
“You want somethin’ comfier to change into? I mean, you look real cute in that bowtie and all but.”
“Yeah please,” Lexi says, thankful for the offer of something warmer, feeling silly for not having changed out of her bows outfit before leaving but also having been in quite a bit of a rush.
When Fezco returns with the green cable knit sweater he was wearing on New Year’s Eve for her to put on, she can’t help but wonder if it’s intentional. If he’s chosen it for her on purpose, if he considers that night to be as much of a beginning for them as she does. She doesn’t ask, just smiles to herself as she slips it on and joins Fez, Ash, and Faye in the living room for a very, very, very late night movie.
Fezco shows up to every single remaining performance of her play.
The last party of the year before summer vacation is always an event.
Lexi isn’t really a partier, never has been, doesn’t really anticipate that she ever will be, but she’s shown up with her friends for a last hurrah, Maddy and Cassie and Kat’s last high school party.
It is dark and sweaty and sticky in the house. The playlist is shit, keeps going from songs that have everyone rushing to the dance floor, to obscure choices that have people shouting for a turn on the aux.
Still, tonight isn’t bad. Lexi has been rather successful in flitting back and forth between dancing with the girls and sitting with Fez on the sofa, feeling very reminiscent of them re-meeting six months ago.
She is on the dance floor, holding hands and jumping around with Maddy, trying very hard to keep the contents of her drink inside her cup when the song shifts from Drake to something Lexi immediately recognizes, something she actually knows all the words to. When the opening chords to a very familiar Ben E. King song, she sends a silent thanks to whoever has made this wildly fucked up playlist.
She can’t get to Fezco because Maddy is still squeezing her hand tightly, is singing along a little too intensely because she is drunk and high school ending has made her weirdly weepy lately, so she stands on her toes, cranes neck to see between the crowd of people swaying on the dance floor until she can spot him on the couch. He’s already grinning at her when she catches his eye.
“I love you,” she mouths, grins bigger when he gets off the couch, maneuvers through the swarm of bodies to drop a kiss on the top of her head, mutters a soft love you into her ear.
Later, she will get to leave with him, will see the polaroid of her that’s always tucked into the driver’s side visor in the Cadillac, will pull on a green cable knit sweater before she slips into his bed.
For now, she’ll hold Maddy’s hand while Fezco wraps his arms around her shoulders, mumbling lyrics into her ear like they’re meant just for them.