stellamai

[stellamai]

Hi. I was wondering if there are any fics where we see andrew being soft with kids or foxes children. And the foxes react to that

Hi! This is the only series I wrote about Andrew with kids where the foxes react to Andrew around kids … I think. It focuses more on Andrew and Neil and their journey to becoming parents. I’ve definitely seen other people writing fics on this subject, but it’s been so long since I read them. Maybe I’ll have to delve into this topic again.

[stellamai]

UNMUTE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!!!

[stellamai]

[stellamai]

I love Neil and Andrew being in love

Back to Palmetto. 

[stellamai]

There was a cat on the loose.

Andrew couldn’t pinpoint exactly how he felt about that but his main concern, if he had any, would be how Neil was going to react when he got home and was accosted by one furry menace instead of one furry menace and a mangy pest.

It wasn’t Andrew’s fault, exactly, that said mangy pest had escaped through a window that wasn’t quite latched correctly and he didn’t believe in regret, but he did feel a twinge of something as he wandered around the neighbourhood calling for the lost fleabag. He’d left the offending window open after shutting King in the bedroom and had moved the litterbox outside as Google had told him to, and now would feel quite ridiculous peering around street corners and shaking a bag of treats if he could bring himself to feel anything at all. He pointedly ignored the way his stomach was sinking further towards his boots with every passing minute.

By the time his phone rang, Neil’s name on the screen an ominous and rare sight in itself, he was practically trampling on said stomach with every heavy pace.

“Neil,” he greeted, keeping his voice carefully blank in the way he knew would never fool his husband but made him feel a bit safer anyway.

“Where are you?” was all Neil asked, and Andrew struggled to read his tone.

“Almost home,” replied Andrew. “I’m -“ he paused, wanting to convey his regret that it’s not going to be good news, but unwilling to use the one word that would sum it up. “Alone,” he finished, squeezing his phone in his clenched knuckle unconsciously.

“Drew,” started Neil but, in the end, settled for just hanging up the phone. Andrew understood; Neil preferred communicating face-to-face.

When he reached the house, Neil was nowhere to be seen. Andrew toed his shoes off and made his way to the still-closed bedroom door to check on King, only to pause when he heard murmuring and rustling from inside. Opening the door a crack, he discovered a pile of duvets and blankets in the middle of the bed, a mop of auburn hair poking out of a gap at the top. His heart squeezed painfully.

“Neil,” he said, ignoring the way his voice cracked.

The duvet pile didn’t move. “What happened?” it asked.

Andrew crawled inside the slapdash duvet fort to find Neil hunched over with King in his lap, her long, grey fur covering him like a blanket.

“Sir got out,” said Andrew quietly. “Managed to push open one of the downstairs windows. I’ve been out looking for him ever since.”

“And ... nothing?” asked Neil.

“Nothing yet,” assured Andrew, knowing what the real question was. “I’m sure he’ll find his way home.”

“What if he gets lost? Should we go back out and look for him? Maybe with two of us -“

“I read that cats can smell their litter box from a mile away,” said Andrew. “And I’m sure he has a good sense of direction. He was brought up by the master of running away, after all.”

“Running away and never coming back,” commented Neil ruefully. “That wasn’t the best analogy.”

“You came back.”

“Because you came to fetch me. Every time.”

Andrew lifted a hand to Neil’s face, brushing his cheekbone with a rough thumb as Neil leant into the touch.

“I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t hit me with that racquet the first day we met,” he said with a small smile. “I would have gone on running until the day I died.”

Andrew’s thumb found the scar tissue Lola had left behind, where the Ravens’ tattoo had been before it, and he knew his expression was dark.

Neil shook his head, catching Andrew’s hand and intertwining their fingers.“ It was all worth it. For the Foxes, for my home ... for you.”

Andrew closed his eyes. “Don’t say stupid things.”

Neil opened his mouth to reply but before he can get a word out, an almighty crash sounded from the kitchen and their spines both straightened like a shot. King squeaked in annoyance and leapt away from Neil, drawing a pained yelp from him as her claws caught his thigh. Andrew had a knife in his hand as he leapt from the bed and peered around the corner to find ...

“Sir!” exclaimed Neil, relief palpable as he rushed forwards.

“Neil,” hissed Andrew, still searching for threats. He’d left the kitchen window open unattended for Sir - stupid - and anyone could have used him as a diversion and broken in.

“Drew, it’s fine,” said Neil placatingly, holding Sir in one arm and his iPad in the other. “I set up a video feed on the window before you came in, look.” He pointed the screen in Andrew’s direction and sure enough, there was Sir, leaping onto the window sill and misjudging it slightly, slipping onto the draining board and sending a saucepan flying through the air. The little pest didn’t even look phased.

“It was worth it,” continued Neil, handing Sir to Andrew with a smile and scooping King up from where she was winding herself around his ankles, “for my family.”

Andrew looked at the soft expression on his husband’s face, one the public would never believe him capable of after all he’d been through, and he hated it.

But he kissed Neil like his life depended on it anyway.

[stellamai]

So I live with someone who is 5’3” and I now have an accurate representation of what it would be like to stand next to Neil Josten and just ... he is so tiny and Andrew is even tinier and they still thrash everyone both on and off the Exy court and I can’t deal with it thank u and goodnight

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... guys

I love that one of the restrictions on name changes in the UK is that your name cannot “promote criminal activities” and fucking hell every name I can think of that violates that is just stellar honestly like fucking hello nice to meet you my name is Commit Arson, I’d like you to meet my daughter Dont Pay Taxes and my son Steal From Work

[stellamai]

Maybe Andrew asking Neil to stay as Neil Josten was his way of settling the deal. Maybe going with Neil to the FBI to get the full story before the other Foxes got the explanation was more than him just wanting to keep Neil in his sights when he came back. (It mostly would have been that, let’s be honest, but maybe in the back of his mind Andrew was thinking, “well, Neil promised me anything; I deserve this”). But Andrew asking Neil for things that Neil wants anyway, such as staying with the Foxes, really sums up their relationship at the end. It started off as who can get the most secrets out of the other and ended up as who can give more to the other.

I think Andrew knew he was owed something and, now accepting that he wanted Neil to stay, asked for precisely that.

you know in the kings men when Neil asks Andrew to help them win the game and Neil says he’d do anything and Andrew accepts that and then actually does help them win. Do you have any idea or HCs for what Andrew would have had in mind?

I’m sure when I first read it I would have had some ideas, but having really dived into the aftg world and my own ideas of Andrew and Neil now, I think neither of them were thinking of anything specific. What Neil was really offering in that moment was his unwavering trust; while Andrew would never accept “anything” as an offer itself because he would worry about taking advantage of Neil, he would accept Neil saying he trusts Andrew, and is asking for trust in return. For Andrew, that “anything” was a promise from Neil, that he would trust Andrew not to ask for anything he wouldn’t want to give. For Andrew, that’s really the best deal of all.

Of course, from Neil’s point of view, his time was limited and he was throwing caution to the wind in a final act of desperation. Really, Andrew would hate him for letting his martyr complex rule that decision - the “I’ll do anything if it lets the Foxes win one more game” mindset - but I guess with everything that happened afterwards they didn’t really get time to analyse it.

[stellamai]

you know in the kings men when Neil asks Andrew to help them win the game and Neil says he’d do anything and Andrew accepts that and then actually does help them win. Do you have any idea or HCs for what Andrew would have had in mind?

I’m sure when I first read it I would have had some ideas, but having really dived into the aftg world and my own ideas of Andrew and Neil now, I think neither of them were thinking of anything specific. What Neil was really offering in that moment was his unwavering trust; while Andrew would never accept “anything” as an offer itself because he would worry about taking advantage of Neil, he would accept Neil saying he trusts Andrew, and is asking for trust in return. For Andrew, that “anything” was a promise from Neil, that he would trust Andrew not to ask for anything he wouldn’t want to give. For Andrew, that’s really the best deal of all.

Of course, from Neil’s point of view, his time was limited and he was throwing caution to the wind in a final act of desperation. Really, Andrew would hate him for letting his martyr complex rule that decision - the “I’ll do anything if it lets the Foxes win one more game” mindset - but I guess with everything that happened afterwards they didn’t really get time to analyse it.

[stellamai]

All of your writing?? Is so good??? I love it all???? And I’m unashamedly scrolling through your blog reading all of it because it’s that great??? Also I might just be oblivious but do you have an ao3 or anything because I want to read everything you’ve ever written okay thanks bye

You’ve made my day! Thank you! I do have an AO3 (CharliMay) but there’s nothing on it yet ... I’ll be posting on there in due course!

[stellamai]

You see when I asked Una, while she was halfway through the first book, who she thought Neil would end up with and she said Kevin, I thought it was the most hilarious thing in the world. 

...Now I see what a fool I was.

nora really pulled a bait and switch on us in the first book

in the beginning of tfc kevin asks neil what he sees in his future and neil replies with “you”

and then two books later he’s boning andrew

[stellamai]

That time Andreil took a stroll down memory lane and it actually turned out okay

PART ONE            PART TWO

The starting of the match was imminent, yet Olga was still lacking a certain jersey emblazoned with her girlfriend’s name. She scanned the crowd desperately, looking for a glimpse of familiar ginger hair among the throng of taller bodies, but to no avail. She was about to give up and go to find her seat when she once again caught sight of the Minyard Foxes jersey except this time, it was being worn by the five-foot-even blond man himself. She stared in shock as he leant stiffly against a wall, behind the barricades and out of the way of the crowds clamouring to get to their seats or purchase refreshments.

She made her way over hesitantly, clearing her throat as she approached so as not to sneak up on him. He offered her a blank stare, but no introduction was forthcoming.

“Have you seen, uh, Neil?” she stammered. When Andrew only continued to stare at her, she hastened to explain, “he has my girlfriend’s jersey. I kind of need it for the game.”

He looked away again so she stepped forward and insisted, “I promised.”

At that, Andrew pushed off from the wall abruptly and took off down a corridor, jerking his head in the direction of the changing rooms. Olga followed him to the common area, where they found Taylor dressed in full gear, clutching her jersey and looking rather star struck.

“Oh, you found her!” exclaimed Neil, grinning at Olga. “Did he give you any trouble?”

She crossed her arms, giving Andrew a look. “You could have told me you were waiting for me.”

He ignored her. “Take a photo of them and post it on Twitter.”

She stared. “What?”

Neil laughed. “You don’t have to. Andrew’s just trying to screw with the press.”

Her eyes widened and a grin spread across her face. “Tay, is that okay?”

Taylor just nodded slowly, still staring at Neil. Olga snapped a picture of the two of them quickly and uploaded it, tagging the location and nothing else.

“Sorry to intrude,” Neil was saying when she looked up. “I just wanted to see if our photos were still up.”

“They are!” exclaimed Taylor. “As if we’d take down the photos of the team that turned the Foxes into Exy legends!”

Olga saw Andrew roll his eyes and pull out his phone, tapping away at something. Her phone pinged with a notification seconds later and she saw Andrew Minyard retweeted your Tweet flash up on the screen. Her eyes widened as notifications began flooding in almost instantaneously. Speculation about the involvement of Andrew and Olga in the scene featuring Neil and his alleged girlfriend was rife, and sports news accounts were picking up on it before she could blink. Most people were assuming it was a double date, but they’d got the couples the wrong way around. Olga couldn’t help the hysterical giggle that escaped her.

“Sorry,” she choked out as everyone looked at her. “I just ... how is this my life?”

“Come on,” said Taylor cheerily, pulling her jersey gently over her girlfriend’s head. “We’ve got a few minutes until I have to go; let’s show Neil and Andrew the new additions to the Fox memory board.”

Olga nodded and gestured for the men to follow them to the far side of the room, where half the wall was covered in various photos and news article print-outs.

Neil walked purposefully over to one section immediately and reached out to a photo of his old team reverently. He laughed as he saw the photos of him and Andrew almost touching the ceiling.

“Remember when you threatened to get them down with a ladder?” he asked Andrew, a fond smile on his face. “Matt and Nicky just kept raising them higher.”

Andrew was holding a long knife in his hand before Olga could blink and she froze instinctively. Andrew flicked her a glance before walking over to the wall of photos and prising one off that would otherwise be out of his reach.

As Neil moved to pick it up, Olga was afforded a glimpse of two figures standing in front of a wall of windows, one with ginger hair and one blond, standing merely a breath apart.

“I hate that one,” remarked Andrew flatly.

Neil snorted. “We may as well steal it now. It's not like we can put it back where Matt stuck it.”

Andrew plucked it out of Neil's hands and glanced over it with a bored expression, remarking, “150%.”

“You wanna keep it that bad, huh?” asked Taylor as Andrew gave her a flat look, not deigning to explain.

Neil tilted his head, a question in his eyes that Olga couldn’t interpret. Apparently Andrew could, because he glanced over at the girls and then sighed, telling Neil “yes” before turning to leave.

Neil watched as he disappeared out of the room before turning to the girls. “The percentages are just how much he wants to kill me.”

Olga was surprised by the admission and by how much Neil had shared in general. Taylor only shot him an incredulous look, glancing back after Andrew, who had taken the photo with him. “Are you sure about that?”

Neil just shot them a wry smile and moved to stride out of the room.

“Why are you telling us all this?” called Olga before he could leave. “It doesn’t seem very in-keeping with your preference for privacy. How is that -” she gestured between Neil and the door Andrew had just left from “- still a secret.”

Neil shrugged. “Because we wanted it to be. Let’s just say we have something planned.”

“You’re going to come out?” asked Taylor in a small voice.

“All I’ll say is if you want to give your girlfriend a celebratory kiss for the cameras at the end of the game, don’t worry about us. You’re not going to blow our cover. Going along with this whole dating mix-up was just a bit of fun.” His expression turned serious. “And if it’s ever not fun for you, let me know. I don’t want to force you into anything just because you haven’t told me ��no’”.

Olga nodded and with that, Neil left. Seconds later, Taylor’s coach hurried in to drag her away, leaving Olga standing in front of a wall of memories, now with a blank space in the middle, thinking of the future.

EXTRA

Olga buried her face in her pillow and screamed. She had kissed her girlfriend in full view of a thousand camera phones connected to the internet and she didn’t regret a thing. Local news sites had already mourned the death of the non-relationship that was Neil Josten and Palmetto State’s own Taylor Michaels, but had heralded the start of new gossip such as why were Neil and Andrew hanging out with each other outside work if it wasn’t because their girlfriends were friends? Olga heard her phone chime with a notification but ignored it, until a second followed shortly after and she glanced at the screen to see a tweet notification from Taylor pop up.

@NeilJos10 OH MY GOD YES PLEASE.

Olga’s heart jumped in shock. What had Neil tweeted? She opened the app with trembling fingers, the tweet taking an infuriatingly long time to load over the campus Wi-Fi.

‪Good game, @Taylorra. If you and @Olgamaze want tickets to our next game @Minyandrew and I would be happy to hook you up.

‪Olga screamed for a second time, then slapped her hands over her mouth lest her neighbours think she was being murdered. A second later, another notification came through. She opened it up, finding another tweet from Neil.‬

‪I think Andrew really took a shine to you. He’s talking about Exy outside a game for the first time ever.

‪A reply from Taylor came through like lightning. I’m flattered, wow.

‪Neil responded before Olga could even begin typing a reply. He might even tell you goalie secrets or whatever when you come to the game.‬

‪By the way, the photo has found a new home on the fridge. Andrew still claims he hates it.

‪Attached was a picture of the photo of Andrew and Neil stuck on the fridge alongside pictures of cats, the two men with their friends and teammates, and various novelty fridge magnets. ‬

‪Despite being shell-shocked to high heaven, Olga couldn’t stop grinning. Not only did they now have inside jokes with Neil-freaking-Josten, Neil and Andrew had just indirectly come out through a Twitter conversation with her and Taylor. ‬

‪As she expected, her notifications were blowing up with people screaming, I KNEW IT WHAT THE FUCK ANDREIL LIVES and HOW DID WE DUMBASS ANDREIL STANS NOT REALISE THEIR CATS WERE THE SAME. News sites were dissecting every detail and no doubt contacting Neil and Andrew’s agents for statements. Olga was sure they had something in the works. ‬

‪She flopped back into her face-first position on her bed with a muffled squeal. It was like her months of mentally mapping the Andreil dynamic had finally reached a conclusion and, while the universe had thrown together a lot of ridiculous situations for her to get here, the result was more than she could ever have hoped for.‬

[stellamai]

Got Neil a new home

[stellamai]

Yes to all of this.

See also: Andrew dyeing his hair green, then purple, then blue to see what Neil would look like with striking eye colours to match that fiery hair. The golden eyes with the auburn hair make Neil look too much like a cat. And Andrew h a t e s cats. (He ends up with four)

"your soulmate’s hair color is the color of your eyes. the color of your eyes also changes to match the color of their hair if they dye it" is just begging to be an andreil prompt

Here you go! This was really interesting to write, I hope you like it!

–

For as long as he can remember, people have never wanted to look Andrew in the eyes. Some people’s eyes don’t ever change, other than the natural shifting of childhood, but Andrew’s have been through quite a colorful journey.

Andrew was born with the colorless eyes of those whose soulmate hasn’t been born yet. It’s fairly commonplace, but with his light coloring, some foster families say the blankness is unsettling. He’s a little over a year old when his eyes change to an auburn color. The fiery color is rare, but not unheard of and shouldn’t have been outside of any family’s expectation. But again, combined with Andrew’s serious face, even as a child, few people wanted to look. Which was fine with Andrew. He was safest when he was invisible.

He’s eleven when his eyes begin rapidly changing, first brown, then gold, then black-all manner of colors. It’s strange, but for nine years, he’s free of the red that reminds him how utterly visible his soulmate must be. He’d much rather have the luxury of pretending his soulmate could be anyone. It made it easier to ignore.

He’s had nine blissful years of thinking very little of his soulmate. He’s with the Foxes and he’s not happy, but he’s in a better place than he’s been in his life. Until Neil Josten and his lies and his questions and the way he can play Andrew like a fiddle. And then Thanksgiving happens and he’s definitely not thinking about soulmates.

He gets out of the “hospital” and he wants to tell himself that Neil’s new hair color is the last thing he notices, but he’s always been stupidly aware of Neil, so it’s one of the first.

When he gets back to the dorm, he looks at himself in the mirror for the first time in two months and he wants to put his fist through the glass when he sees those auburn eyes staring back at him.

–

Neil is somewhat thankful that his soulmate’s hair is light, because it makes covering up the color with contacts easier. The best option of course would be if he didn’t have a soulmate at all, but since he did, at least they were consistent. And it keeps him from looking exactly like his father, so there’s another benefit. Sometimes he feels bad for how strange his soulmate must think he is, but it’s not like they’ll ever meet, so Neil doesn’t think about it.

By the time he gets to the Foxes, he hasn’t thought about his soulmate for a long time. Until Nicky tells him that Andrew’s figured it out about the contacts. He lets Andrew hold his chin and inspect his eyes and thinks he sees a flicker of interest, but quickly dismisses the thought. Neil knows he will be dead soon and things like soulmates don’t matter when you’re not a real person.

He does note that Andrew’s eyes are not colorless. He wonders what person out there is made for Andrew.

–

They’ve been…whatever they are to each other for over a year now, but the fact that their eye colors link up has gone unspoken for that time. Neil knows it can’t have escaped Andrew’s notice, but he also knows that bringing it up could stop their progress in its track. He never wants to force Andrew into something, destiny or not.

They’re on the rooftop one night though and Andrew is holding his face with no apparent desire to kiss him or do anything but look and Neil says, “Are you thinking about my eyes?”

“Yes,” Andrew says because they’ve been through too much to lie to each other.

“So you know.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Of course I know.”

When it doesn’t look like Andrew’s going to leave or deflect, Neil smirks and asks, “Do you want a different color? We can go get some hair dye.”

Andrew considers that. He’s always had an uneasy relationship with his eyes. But he also knows that his having auburn eyes makes the color mean something to Neil other than his father, so he answers, “No. I think I’ll keep these for a while.”

Neil lets himself be pushed down onto the concrete, smiling the whole way.

[stellamai]

That time Neil learnt not to get dressed in the dark

PART ONE

Olga was awoken three hours before her lectures started on Thursday by an incessant knocking on the door of her dorm room.

She rolled out of bed with a groan and opened the door, barely avoiding being run over by her exuberant girlfriend.

“Tay, I know it’s game day tomorrow, but that doesn’t give you a free pass on bowling me over at seven o’clock in the morning.”

Taylor looked surprised as she fidgeted with the strap of her sports bag. “Is it that early? Sorry, I was up training before five.”

Olga wrinkled her nose. “Did you even shower before coming over here?”

Taylor started digging around in her bag in favour of replying, looking nervous; Olga was about to ask her what was wrong, but all became apparent when she pulled out a jersey of orange and white, printed boldly with her surname across the back.

"Will you wear this to the game tomorrow?"

Olga stared. “Tay, are you sure? Your friends -"

"I know, Olga, but you're part of my life now; I want people to know that you're important to me, even if they don’t quite ... understand how much.”

Olga laughed slightly. "This is so cliché. Wearing your girlfriend's jersey to a game ..."

"You don't want to?"

Olga snatched the jersey from Taylor's hands with a grin. "I want to."

"Not too cliché, then?"

Olga rolled her eyes and silenced her girlfriend with a kiss.

Late that night, Olga was sat in her room struggling to find the motivation to complete an essay when her phone buzzed.

Neil Josten was sighted on campus today!!!, read the tweet notification from Taylor.

Oh my god, do y'all think he's coming to the game???, followed a second later.

Olga's eyes flew wide. What if. And was he the only former Fox in town?

Well, she definitely wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her essay with that news buzzing around her head. She gave in with a sigh, grabbing her bag and the keys to her newly-temporarily-fixed run-down car and heading out to buy food. If she was going to be pulling an all-nighter she’d need sustenance, preferably of the sugary kind.

Pulling into the nearest twenty-four hour supermarket's car park, she hummed appreciatively at a sleek black car parked near the entrance. While she didn’t know the brand, it looked expensive. She snapped a poorly-lit picture on her way past to show Taylor later; she appreciated these things more than Olga did. She saw a couple of camera lenses pointed out of car windows, also trained on the car, but quickly disregarded them. It must have been a fancy car thing.

Olga plodded through the aisles lethargically, looking for the familiar labels that indicated sugar and caffeine, grabbing a couple of tubs of raspberry sorbet as an afterthought. If Taylor were to show up at her door freaking out over the Josten sighting she’d need to be prepared.

As she exited the aisle a flash of orange caught her eye, and she was drawn to it like a moth to flame. It was only once she was standing behind said orange item at the checkout that she realised it was an old foxes jersey. She saw the number three, and then the name Minyard and then ... ginger hair?

It was Neil Josten.

Wearing Andrew Minyard's old jersey.

She must have made some kind of noise, or maybe Josten was just very aware of people at his back, because the former Foxes starting striker turned slightly to glance at her.

She blinked out of her stupor and offered him a wavering smile. “Late night sugar cravings too?" she asked, her voice coming out an octave higher than normal. She was suddenly very self-conscious of her accent. Not quite Russian, not quite English, but definitely not American.

Neil frowned slightly before looking down at the ice cream in his hands, expression clearing.

"Oh," he said slowly. "No. I don't like sugar."

"Okay," Olga squeaked, feeling stupid, even if it was the supposed sugar-hater who was carrying three tubs of chocolate ice cream, not her.

There were still three people in the queue ahead of them and Olga fidgeted, wishing she'd never opened her mouth.

"Good thing my British upbringing taught me how to queue," she blurted out. Whoops, she did it again.

Neil glanced at the queue, then back at Olga with an appraising stare.

"You're British?" he asked.

"Russian," replied Olga. "But I grew up in England."

She vaguely remembered something about Neil's mother being from England, and she once again cursed her big mouth. Everyone knew about Neil's parents, but they also knew not to mention it.

"So, uh." Olga grasped desperately for a way out of the hole she'd dug herself. "The ice cream."

That was the best she could come up with?

But Neil only huffed slightly, a smile tilting the edges of his lips up. "Yeah, it's not for me."

"Ah." She resisted the urge to ask who it was for. If the jersey he wore was any indication, she thought she may already know the answer.

Her eyes widened. The jersey. Those had been reporters with cameras loitering in the car park, she realised. She hadn’t connected the dots until she’d seen Neil, but they'd definitely been there. Perhaps they had advance information on the global Exy star’s presence here and maybe they'd been drawn to the expensive-looking car outside, hoping the owner was someone worth photographing; she realised now that the flashy car she'd seen on the way in had been Andrew Minyard's. And Neil had driven it here.

"Uh, Neil," she said hesitantly, getting his attention again. He didn't seem surprised that she knew his name. "I think you should know that I saw reporters outside the store on my way in and, uh, your jersey -" She indicated vaguely, but Neil only frowned again in confusion.

"It's my old foxes jersey," he said. "I'm going to the game tomorrow. They probably already know that."

"It's, uh, not yours," Olga finished in a small voice, waiting for the penny to drop.

And drop it did. Neil's eyes widened as he tried to crane his neck back to look at the rear of the jersey.

"Shit," he murmured. "This is what I get for dressing in the dark. Being considerate is the worst decision I ever -“

"Wait," Olga interrupted, having a sudden brainwave. She brought her bag from earlier, which meant - yes! She pulled out Taylor's jersey. At a guess, it was a couple of sizes larger than Andrew Minyard's. "Put this on over the top. It's my girlfriend's - she's on the team. You can give it back at the game tomorrow. I'm supposed to be wearing it."

By the time she’d finished her rambling it was Neil's turn in line.

He accepted the jersey gingerly. "Thank you," he said, voice soft. It occurred to Olga that he probably wasn't used to people doing nice things for him. Or at least he wasn't until he joined the Foxes. Olga knew how these stories went.

As predicted, the jersey slightly swamped Neil's small frame, hiding the one underneath perfectly. He smiled at her again as he paid for his - Andrew's - ice cream, and called, "see you at the game tomorrow!" as he left.

As Olga exited the shop, the reporters were following Neil to his fancy car, badgering him with questions.

"Who's Michaels?" one of them asked bluntly, gesturing to the jersey.

"Oh," Neil shrugged, glancing in Olga's direction. "Just someone I'll be supporting at the Foxes' game tomorrow."

Olga grinned.

"Why the hell is Neil Josten wearing my jersey?" was the first thing Taylor said when Olga picked up the phone. She knew it was coming; she'd been staring at the news article for the past ten minutes. Is Foxes goalie Taylor Michaels Neil Josten's new girlfriend? asked the tagline beneath the title: All’s Fair in Love and Exy. Below lay a host of pictures of Neil in the jersey and some commentary about how he said he was in town to support the owner of said jersey, along with speculation about whether Neil and Andrew may get along better now that Neil had moved on from Renee.

Olga groaned. "I'm sorry for mixing you up in this, Tay. He'll give it back at the game tonight. I'll still wear it, I promise."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Olga hesitated. She didn't know whether she should tell Taylor about the fact that she'd seen Neil Josten wearing Andrew Minyard's jersey, and driving Andrew Minyard's car, and buying Andrew Minyard ice cream. Not to mention the fact that he’d implied that he was being considerate of someone he was sharing a room with by dressing in the dark late at night and it was Andrew fucking Minyard’s clothes that he’d picked up by mistake.

"There was a slight wardrobe problem at the supermarket," she settled on. "You can ask him about it tomorrow, but I can't promise you'll get an answer."

Taylor was quiet for a moment before huffing in resignation. “Fine. I trust you.”

Olga let out a sigh of relief. If she’d had to choose between breaking the trust of Neil Josten and losing the trust of her girlfriend she wasn’t sure what she would have done.

“But really,” Taylor continued airily. “Renee Walker, then me? People must really think Neil Josten has a thing for Exy goalies.”

Olga couldn’t help snorting. Taylor didn’t know the half of it.

PART THREE 

[stellamai]

That time Andreil didn’t realise that people other than them speak Russian

To say Olga Morozova was a fan of Exy would be an understatement. She was obsessed. Exy was a little-known sport back in Russia; even growing up in England it wasn't nearly as popular as football or rugby or cricket, but in America it was the heart and soul of many a citizen, Olga included. She'd even go so far as to say it was more popular than American football nowadays and to be fair, she could see why. She loved the matches, the courts, the mixed-sex nature of the teams and, of course, the players. Her college team, the Palmetto State Foxes, were of particular interest to her, and she kept up with the careers of its alumni religiously. 

She knew how Neil Josten - the sharp-witted and even sharper-tongued son of The Butcher of Baltimore - was immediately recruited by a pro team upon his graduation and how he played with them for a mere year before transferring to the team in which Andrew Minyard had finally settled into his position as goalkeeper. Before that, he had been transferred between multiple teams due to his 'inability to bond with his teammates'. At least, that was what the press releases said, or words to that effect. 

Most of all, Olga knew how there were rumours that Neil and Andrew were now in the process of being signed to the U.S. Court; their other former Fox teammate Kevin Day was already on the team and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Andrew and Neil got the call-up. In fact, Andrew had been offered a spot before, but had turned it down. No one could fathom why. Although, Olga thought she might have an inkling. The fact that this was Andrew's longest stint with a single team couldn't be a coincidence. Olga thought the two men might be a package-deal, and she was pretty sure their coach saw that too, if his actions during the previous few transfer seasons were anything to go by.

Nevertheless, no one would have believed it of three PSU Foxes before Kevin and Neil joined the team all those years ago but there they were, being considered for - or in Kevin's case, already - competing internationally against the best-ranked teams in the world.

One thing confused Olga, however, and that was Neil and Andrew's reported contempt for each other. She'd seen the photo board in the Exy building - courtesy of her girlfriend, who was the current PSU starting goalkeeper - and there were quite a few photos on there of Andrew and Neil together. In one, they stood a breath away against a wall of windows, staring at each other intently; in another, they sat together on the team bus, Andrew staring pointedly out of the window and poking one finger into Neil's cheek as Neil sat smiling and watching him out of the corner of his eye. There were other photos, pinned high on the board, that she couldn't reach. It was safe to assume that they had been pinned there purposefully by a taller teammate. Being barely taller than Neil Josten himself, anything that was out of reach of the small, auburn-haired striker was usually out of reach for Olga as well.

Andrew and Neil seemed amicable enough in the photos she could see, Olga thought. Why would Neil transfer to the same team as Andrew - willingly, by all accounts - if they hated each other? Why would Andrew then stick with that team longer than he had any other? And why would Andrew deny the call to Court the first time around, only to accept now that Neil was being offered a place? Furthermore, she'd seen them together off the court, bypassing the queue for Eden's Twilight in Columbia while she and her other nineteen-year-old friends were being turned away at the door. She had briefly considered following them afterwards - maybe her curiosity could be satisfied if she saw where they went at the end of the night - but even her inquisitive nature wasn’t justification enough to impose on someone’s private life so mercilessly, so she let it be.

Olga saw how well they interacted on the court as well - when they weren't yelling at each other, that is - and it always seemed that they worked better together than they had when they were on opposite teams. Andrew could always deflect the ball in such a way as to smack it up the court to Neil, as if he was effortlessly keeping track of the striker’s movements every second; Neil would receive it flawlessly every time, going on to score nine times out of ten.

It had been interesting to watch them playing against each other, though, the few times that it had happened. Olga didn't know what was going on behind the scenes, but sometimes Neil scored against Andrew and sometimes he just didn't. There didn't seem to be any predictable pattern to his attempts for Andrew to follow and his overall performance wasn't discernibly different on either occasion. And the funny thing was, when he didn't score and the camera was zoomed close enough to see his face, he would be grinning. No one could understand it. Why would Neil be happy to have been shut out of the opposing team's goal?

Nevertheless, reporters were quick to jump on the supposed scandal, speculating about how the relationship between the two former Foxes had gone so downhill after they graduated college. Was it their rocky pasts catching up with them? Was it a falling out over a girl? A few had speculated on the relationship between the two boys and one Renee Walker, and none of the other Foxes who had made it to pro teams did anything to dispel the rumours that emerged about Neil possibly beating Andrew up after he caught him with Renee. No one could find an alternative explanation as to why Andrew turned up looking rather bruised the day after he was spotted getting ice cream with her.

"Neil and Andrew always were very physical," mused one Matt Boyd, leaning into the microphone shoved in his face after a game against Neil's team - Neil himself had of course vanished before any reporter could catch more than a glimpse of ginger hair on their cameras. "Neil always got about five feet closer to Andrew than any of us other Foxes would have dared to. It was inevitable that they'd jump each other one day; he was quite literally asking for it."

It was at this point that Matt was sidetracked by another reporter asking about his wife's rumoured pregnancy, but Olga had always wondered about the exchange. Matt's tone had seemed far too light and teasing for the subject he was supposedly talking about, and too heavy in innuendo.

In any case, Olga was looking forward to what the post-game interviews tonight might reveal. It was a momentous occasion for her and other fans of Foxes alumni, in that tonight was the first time that Josten and Minyard, as a united front, would take on the team of Kevin Day. And Olga was hoping for a miracle from whoever was assigning press duty to the team members.

By the end of the day it looked as if her well of miracles might have run dry. She was already running late after being held back at work, her car had broken down five miles from campus, and her girlfriend was still at practice, her phone apparently switched off and in her locker.

By the time the tow-truck had dropped Olga's car off at the repair shop and Olga had got a lift back to campus, the game was over. She ran into her dorm room and booted up her laptop, loading up a stream of the game coverage. Even if she wouldn't understand any of the references they made to the game, maybe, just maybe -

Yes.

Olga couldn't believe her eyes. Neil was taking questions from reporters for the first time in weeks.

"That was quite an intense game," the reporter for the TV network was saying excitedly. "How did it feel to go up against your old striker partner?"

Neil shrugged. "I let Andrew worry about him. Kevin's obviously been teaching his back-liners a few tricks since we last met on the court. They took up most of my concentration."

"You seem to have a lot of faith in Andrew," said the reporter. "We see how well you two play together. Does this mean your rivalry's coming to an end? Have you worked out your differences?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Neil with a frown, glancing back at Andrew. "We're the same as we've always been."

"Hurry up," called Andrew suddenly, in Russian. "I want to go home."

Olga was so surprised that she missed Neil's last remark to the reporter before he and Andrew wandered away again.

Everyone knew, from comments by their teammates, that Andrew and Neil spoke Russian to each other, but no one had been able to pick up any words from outside the court and none of their other teammates spoke the language. Kevin Day had only rolled his eyes when asked about it in the past. No one knew how they'd learnt the language either. Not as a module in college, apparently, and it wasn't exactly the most common of languages, so it was unlikely they'd happened to learn it independently.

As Olga sat and watched the game back, her mind kept wandering back to what Andrew had said. I want to go home. It seemed innocuous, but -

Olga wished Neil had been facing the cameras so she could see his expression. Andrew was about as expressive as a rock.

It didn’t seem as if Andrew and Neil were going to much effort to keep their private lives under wraps - either that or they truly believed they were the only people in America who would understand Russian - it was just that no one was looking in the right direction. Olga vowed that from this point on, she would pay more attention.

PART TWO           PART THREE    

[stellamai]

A sense of community

Something crunches and slides under his foot as Neil steps into the apartment on Sunday evening and he has to grasp wildly for the door handle to prevent himself smacking his head on the hardwood flooring. All the lights are off, meaning that Andrew isn't home yet and the cats probably haven't been fed.

Sure enough, King appears a second later, trotting around the corner and making a beeline for Neil's legs, winding around them as if to trip him up a second time. He shuts the door and crouches down, stroking her absently as he peers at the offending slippery object. It's a flyer of some kind, probably pushed under the door by one of their neighbours, advertising a street fair.

Neil skims the information as he wanders into the kitchen to refill the cats' food. There's a form on the back of the flyer for people who want to apply for a stall, and an option to contribute some baked goods to a community stall which will raise money for 'the most innovative neighbourhood scheme' pitched at the fair.

Neil hears the door click as Andrew arrives home, and rushes to show him the flyer.

"A street fair," says Andrew, sounding wholly unimpressed.

"You could bake something," says Neil, gesturing out to the balcony where Andrew has been growing various fruits and vegetables in large pots. "The raspberries are ripening up; you could make pies."

"Is this about your stupid Exy club idea?" asks Andrew, scanning the information on the sheet. "How far would the proceeds from a measly stall at a street fair go towards that?"

"Well, no," replies Neil. "I just think it would be nice for you to share your baking skills with everybody."

"You sound like Renee."

"But," continues Neil, unperturbed, "that plot of land at the end of the road just went on sale, where Mr Jones used to keep those tiny goats -"

"Pygmy goats."

"Right. And I just think it would be nice to have something better than that run down park to keep the local kids occupied."

"There's already an Exy club at the local school, and it’s open to anyone under the age of eighteen,” says Andrew. "I asked Mrs Parkinson about it."

Neil sighs, expression falling into one of dejection. "Oh."

Andrew stares out at the balcony, regarding his improvised vegetable patch with a bored stare. "But okay, I'll bake something. I want to see what everyone else has to offer."

Neil smiles, knowing Andrew's thinking of all the cakes, brownies and pastries that will be available. "Joan's Chelsea buns can't hold a candle to your Battenberg cake."

Andrew rolls his eyes and steps closer. "The Battenberg was a one-off. Nicky wanted the same cake for his wedding as Prince Louis had."

"Nicky has an unhealthy obsession with German princes," chuckles Neil, altering his accent slightly as he leans close to Andrew. "Nevertheless, Joan's European baked goods are mere imitations compared to yours."

Andrew shivers slightly, as he can’t help but do on the rare occasion Neil puts on his mother's English accent, and pulls Neil in for a kiss.

"By the way," murmurs Neil. "Welcome home."

~

By the day of the street fair, Neil has told practically everyone in their building about Andrew's baking efforts. He couldn't help it; every time someone mentioned the street fair he had to tell them to visit the community stall to try his husband's pies. Andrew used to say that Neil could only think about Exy, and maybe that was true until he suddenly had a life outside of it. Now that he has a whole future to contend with, he knows there's so much more to be proud of than winning an Exy game.

There’s a steady stream of people visiting the community stall all morning, buying goods and submitting ideas for the neighbourhood initiative the funds from the stall will go towards. Neil sees Andrew slip his own application into the pile, and smiles widely enough that Andrew pushes his face away in disgust.

Neil just laughs and flags down two young girls who have been eyeing the raspberry pies for about five minutes.

“Would you like to try one?” he asks. “This one’s a bit uneven so I’ll give it to you for free.” He stops and glances exaggeratedly towards Andrew before turning to whisper conspiratorially to the girls, “Don’t tell Andrew I said that. He’s very particular about quality control.”

The smaller of the two girls pauses at the sight of Andrew.

“Aren't you Andrew Minyard?" she asks, forehead creasing in confusion as she looks between him and Neil. "But aren't you two ... like ... enemies?"

The taller girl next to her whacks her arm lightly. "They're on the same teams, dummy."

The smaller girl scowls. "Yeah, but they're always shouting up and down the court at each other."

Her friend shrugs and crosses her arms. "So what? My mum and dad shout at each other a lot too, and they're not standing a hundred yards away from each other. It doesn't mean they're not in love."

Neil can tell Andrew's been getting bored with the conversation, but his head tilts slightly towards the girls at that last remark.

The smaller of the two gapes, then points between Andrew and Neil frantically, lowering her voice to an exaggerated and not-at-all-subtle whisper. "They're in love?!"

The other girl rolls her eyes. "Well, duh."

"I'll tell you a secret," says Neil, taking pity on the young girl. "When I'm shouting down the court at Andrew, it's not because I'm mad at him."

"Apart from that time when I didn’t pick up cat food before the game so we had to drive around searching for a 24-hour supermarket at midnight,” says Andrew, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Now it's Neil's turn to roll his eyes. "Apart from then." He turns back to the girl. "Usually, we're just messing with our teammates by having conversations in Russian. It's like our own secret language on the court." Neil feels a soft smile spread unbidden across his face.

"See," mutters the taller girl, gesturing to Neil's smile. "I told you they were in love."

The other girl still looks sceptical, but takes the pie Neil offers her gladly.

Neil doesn’t miss the way Andrew watches carefully for her reaction when she takes a bite, and he turns away quickly before Andrew can notice his fond grin.

~

“Congratulations to our winner, Mr Minyard-Josten of Bellevue Terrace,” says Mrs Jones jovially, handing over an enormous novelty cheque displaying the sum of the proceeds of the community stall that will go towards his project. She’s already announced his winning idea to the assembled crowd, and Neil is proudly telling everyone how Andrew grew the raspberries for the pies himself.

“I tried to grow French beans last year and they shrivelled up within a week,” says a forlorn Madame Picard. “That’s very impressive, Andrew.”

Andrew is looking on passively while holding a giant stick of candy floss and acting as if he’s not paying attention, but Neil can tell by his eyes and the set of his mouth that he's pleased.

“A community allotment?” asks Neil later, a small grin tugging at the old scars on his cheekbones.

“Well, your Exy idea was stupid,” replies Andrew, as if it explains everything.

And suddenly, Neil gets it. Andrew took Neil’s failed idea and turned it into something else. Something positive for the community and for himself. Something he could be proud of, and that Neil could be proud of him for rather than dwelling on his own failures. It was a kind of metaphor for their lives, Neil mused, this thing that would start small and grow into something impactful and wonderful. And as he regards Andrew’s calm expression while he sets out ready-made designs on the dining room table, he wonders just how long Andrew has been planning this.

He wonders if Andrew had spoken to Bee about it - this new idea that he’d started to care about. Whether it scared him, excited him, whether he’d felt joy when the plan came to fruition.

“Was it worth it?” he asks softly, as he considers what may have lay under Andrew’s mask of detachment.

Andrew looks at him, processing and understanding the question, before nodding and pressing his palms more firmly - determinedly - onto the designs now spread out before them. Neil can see a thousand dreams behind his eyes and for a man who’s not used to dreaming, that must be a terrifying thing. “It will be.”