#Like Andrew's a fridge for Neil's doodles

[jtl-fics]

This came randomly to me but imagine an au where neil gets into the habit of doodling on andrew instead of his hw and one day he just draws the key that Andrew gave him from memory. And Andrew just. Gets it tattooed. From then on it opens a floodgates and anything that neil draws that Andrew likes gets just drawn on permanently

That's so sweet I think I'm getting a cavity!

I always think of Neil getting the Key (on his hip where Andrew kissed him during THE SHOWER SCENE) and Andrew getting the Keyhole over Neil's favorite spot to kiss on his neck (Andrew may in fact like Neil's fetish).

Nicky makes some jokes but for Andrew Neil unlocked a lot of stuff (feelings / experiences) for him and for Neil Andrew is home.

[foxy-exy]

23 + andriel 👀

Bloom (forget me not)

Prompt 23 from here: “No, we’re going to talk about this now.” (and tattoo artist/piercer Andrew AU also came from Syd!!) TW: lots of talk about scars i’ve been mia working on my very-close-to-my-heart and very-long-compared-to-what-i’ve-been-writing-lately aftg big bang fic (WATCH OUT FOR THAT PLZ) but syd hit me w/ tattoo artist/piercer andrew right when my need for just one (1) tattoo and many (MANY) more piercings was highest so here we are (also my aftg server was talking about flower tattoos on jean and i was like oh worm flower tattoos on aftg characters you say??? so they are also partially responsible) also i may have never actually gotten a tattoo before but this is definitely Not How It Works, unrealistic, unprofessional, and general bad clienting but shhh you can also find this fic on my ao3 here!

Andrew’s pencil scratching is the only sound in the parlor — he thinks maybe his phone died an hour ago and with it, his music playlist. He should probably get up and plug it back in.

The cat eyes glare at him from his sketchpad page, though, and he can’t leave the face half finished now. He swings his chair back around to look at the picture on the shop’s computer screen that he’s sketching. God, this cat is ugly. He wouldn’t want this cat as a sleeve, but what the paying client wants, the paying client gets.

He blocks out the nose and jaw, shakes out his aching hand, and glares back at the drawing as he leans back in the chair and shoves the pencil eraser into his mouth to chew on.

“Hey.”

Andrew sends his sketchpad flying and nearly tips his chair over to turn back around. Nobody ever shows up for random walk-ins this early, it’s why he’s usually the only one on the schedule. (They retain more clients when Andrew is not the one who talks to them. Because Andrew is, as Nicky puts it, an asshole.)

Neil Josten stands before him, dressed as plainly as ever in his standard gray sweatshirt and baggy jeans, looking bemused and out of place in the strange context of Andrew’s workplace. He is not a piercings-and-tattoos kind of person. He is a somewhat-friends-with-Kevin-purely-because-they-like-to-yell-about-sports-together-on-Andrew’s-couch kind of person.

“Thanks for not even setting off the door bells,” Andrew says coolly, around a mouthful of pencil eraser, and takes it from his mouth immediately after, because Neil is smiling a little, eyes on it.

“Sorry, I’m pretty quiet.”

“No, you aren’t,” Andrew says, and Neil’s lips twitch again.

He and Neil are distant acquaintances at best. Kevin shares Andrew and Nicky’s apartment for rent purposes as Aaron moved out months ago to live with his girlfriend, but Kevin and Andrew don’t share friend groups. Even so, it is impossible to ignore Neil Josten when he’s worked up and shouting about Kevin’s favorite teams being terrible.

“What are you here for?” Andrew clicks off the cat photo and pulls up their schedule — empty for several hours, until Kevin comes in for an appointment with somebody who wants some script work. He doesn’t know why Neil is here when Kevin isn’t working, they’re the ones who know each other.

“How much for a…a medusa?”

“Fifty.” Andrew eyes him. The uncertainty in his voice is clear, which is…interesting. “I didn’t think you were into piercings, or Kevin would have bullied you into at least three by now.”

Neil doesn’t answer, because his gaze is glued to Andrew’s arms — his shirt sleeves have ridden up to show the patchwork pieces winding their way up his wrists and forearms.

“And…” This comes out more rushed now, clearly the actual reason for the visit, “What about tattoos?”

Andrew pulls back down his sleeves. “Are you asking for pricing? I can’t give you an estimate without any kind of idea of what you’re looking for. Do you even know the style you want? Where you want it?”

Neil drags his eyes back up to meet Andrew’s. “You covered up Kevin’s old tattoos, didn’t you?”

Andrew folds his arms. Enunciates clearly because he’s never been one to beat around the bush. “Are you looking for a tattoo consultation or not?”

“Yes,” says Neil, and his mouth flattens, brows pinching.

“Glad to see you’re so very excited about it,” Andrew deadpans, opens up an appointment entry on the schedule and types in Neil Josten, tattoo consultation: Andrew Minyard. He snatches up his sketchpad and pencil from the ground and curls a finger at Neil to follow.

***

“You don’t have tattoos to cover up,” Andrew says, when Neil tentatively perches on the edge of the lounge seat in the private office. “What do you want?”

Neil tugs at the fraying cuff of his shirt and looks pained. “I just…I don’t know.”

“That really sucks, because you’re paying me to help you figure out specifics on what you want right now.”

“Can you cover up scars,” Neil mumbles, and Andrew freezes. And Neil must pick up on this, because immediately he says, “Never mind. This was a bad idea.”

Andrew catches Neil’s shirt hem before he can completely turn towards the door. “No, we’re going to talk about this now.”

“I changed my mind, it’s okay, don’t tell Kevin, I just thought maybe —”

“I won’t tell Kevin,” Andrew says.

Neil tugs at his hair.

“I can cover up scars,” Andrew says.

Neil looks back at him, and he is very pale.

And then, because Andrew is stupid, “I’ve covered up my own scars.”

Neil’s face does something very complicated, his hands shake a little, and slowly, carefully, Neil sits back down.

***

Neil doesn’t know what he wants, exactly, he says. He says he likes what he’s seen of Andrew’s work, which isn’t all that helpful.

“Abstract,” Andrew says, and Neil shrugs.

“Animals.” Shrug.

“Skulls,” Andrew says, with a hint of impatience.

“Anything,” Neil says.

“You’re my least favorite client.”

“Even that one with the lion back tattoo?” Neil asks, and he is smiling again. Teasing. Andrew knows that Neil was in the house when he was telling Kevin about that client and his ridiculous whining, but he hadn’t realized Neil had been listening.

“Yes, maybe you’ll overtake even him,” Andrew retorts, reaches for the binder sitting in the corner marked Andrew Minyard — full of his past work — and tosses it at Neil. “I can’t work with ‘anything.’ That’s how people get tattoos they regret.”

“I liked Kevin’s black rose,” Neil says, and flips through the book, lingering on a page with more floral designs. “But you do color, too?”

“That is a style I do, yes.” Andrew watches Neil’s fingers trace delicate petals and fights back a curious rush. “Scar tissue can be unpredictable when it comes to holding ink, and it can hurt. But I’ve had experience with it. Do you want something like that?”

“I like these,” Neil says quietly, and Andrew shoves his pencil eraser back into his mouth and turns resolutely back to his sketchpad so he doesn’t have to look at Neil looking at his work.

“Colored flowers,” he says, drumming fingernails against his paper. “Fine. What flowers do you like? Where would this be?”

“Forget-me-not? On my arm?” Again, Neil sounds uncertain, and Andrew turns a glare on him.

“If you want this, you want this. If you’re not sure, I’m not inking an inch of you.”

He decides he hates looking at Neil’s soft smile when he is on its receiving end. This is the first time it’s happened, and he thinks if it happens again, he should check into a hospital for heart palpitations.

“I want it. Here.” Neil rolls up a sleeve, and Andrew clamps his jaw shut as Neil taps a finger to his forearm, covered in circular red puckers of skin and the occasional, familiar raised line of white. Andrew forces himself to lean closer to examine the canvas with clinical detachment, and press his fingers to the skin, measuring.

“This big?”

“Yeah,” Neil says, and that’s that.

***

“Why the hell was Neil on your schedule?” Kevin asks very loudly from the front desk as Andrew lounges across the waiting room couch and doodles blue petals.

“Huh, Kevin, I don’t see how that’s really any of your business,” Andrew says, and scribbles out another draft.

“No, seriously. He’s never wanted anything before. Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Contrary to what your ego says, not everything is about you,” Andrew drawls.

“Neil,” Kevin barks, and Andrew looks up to find Kevin with his phone to his ear. “Why did you come to see Andrew?”

Neil must apparently say something similar to Andrew’s sentiments because Kevin rolls his eyes. “You should have told me that you wanted something. No, I — he didn’t say anything to me. Neil —!” The last part is said to an apparently dead line, because Kevin pulls the phone away with a huff. “I don’t understand why he came to you without saying anything, I’m his tattoo artist friend.”

“Too bad,” Andrew says, and pulls out his own phone when it buzzes.

Thanks, is the simple text from Neil Josten. For not telling him.

Andrew doesn’t reply, but he tucks his phone between his elbows and pretends to ignore the warmth blooming in his chest as he flips the page and starts to shade another forget-me-not.

***

Do you like this? Andrew asks, and attaches a picture of his latest draft.

Almost immediately, the text is marked as Seen, but Neil doesn’t respond for a solid few minutes.

Finally, Andrew locks his phone again, irritated, and shoves away his sketchpad, feeling too jittery to sleep like he should be doing at — he checks the clock — 2 AM.

His phone chimes, and Andrew looks down at It’s perfect and thinks that having such a giant crush on his apartment mate’s probably uninterested friend is maybe really, really bad.

***

“Hey, Andrew.”

Andrew looks up from the fridge. He has been studiously ignoring Neil’s presence on the couch while Kevin chatters to him about the latest hockey wins. But Kevin has disappeared, and Neil remains, and Neil is…looking at him.

“I like it a lot. Like, fuck, really a lot.”

Andrew glares and slams the fridge closed. Neil’s smile only grows wider as Andrew stalks over to the table to deposit whatever leftovers he grabbed (that he most definitely did not look at) onto it.

“So, when are you free to ink me?”

Andrew’s going to die, and Neil Josten saying when are you free to ink me is going to be the cause of death.

“Tomorrow. 10 AM,” he grits out.

“Okay,” Neil says.

***

“Andrew.”

“Shut up.”

“Andrew,” Neil says again, shakily.

“Don’t.”

“Thank you.” Neil stares at the forget-me-not cluster blooming across pinkened skin underneath the plastic wrap, lips parted. Andrew wants to kiss them.

“Oh,” says Neil when he looks up, and Andrew is still too close, and Andrew would usually probably pull back but instead, he dips closer. And Neil would usually probably avoid physical contact like he does with everyone but instead, Neil kisses him back.

“Oh,” Andrew agrees, and starts to turn away, but Neil shifts with him, eyes too intense, and a finger hovers at Andrew’s collar to tug very lightly.

“When would be too soon to ask when you’re free again?”

“Has the tattoo bug bitten you already?” Andrew scoffs, and Neil looks down at his forget-me-not and nods. “You’ll have to schedule an appointment like everybody else. You’re lucky my schedule hasn’t been as booked lately.”

“Okay,” says Neil, and then, “and what about asking when you’re free outside of work?”

Andrew stares at him. “For?”

“What about a repeat of this kind of thing?” Neil gestures between them. “Or…lunch, on me?”

“Lunch, on me,” says Andrew automatically. “You just gave me a lot of money.”

“Okay,” says Neil again, and laughs. “Kevin’s going to be so pissed that he missed all this happening.”

“I don’t see why I have to tell him who I’m kissing,” Andrew says.

“You’ve only done it once.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow and fixes that grievous mistake.

Neil’s answering grin is not soft, just impish, but it does things to Andrew’s heart all the same.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

I know this is technically a day late, but let’s pretend I totally posted this yesterday... 

Neil starts outlining a plan in his head as he ducks between students and buildings. Group projects are the bane of his existence, but he has to do them if he wants to pass, and he has to pass if he wants to be eligible to keep playing Exy. At least this time Joseph Peters isn’t in his group, but he still prefers individual assignments. The faster he gets his five slides done, the less he has to interact with the group.

Neil cuts across the Green because it’s faster, but he has to weave through a sea of bodies. The warmer weather of spring has drawn out many students from their hoards in the library. From sunbathers to studiers, the grass is now marred by waves and waves of bright colors and tanned skin. The combination of laughter and the singing of nearby birds tangle together in the air like a tangible cacophony, and the rays of the sun lick down along the ground, creating a blissful atmosphere.

Neil sidesteps around a group of sorority girls and ducks to avoid getting in the middle of an ultimate frisbee game. By the time he makes it Perimeter Road, the crowds have thinned out, and it’s easy to cross the road and head up towards Fox Tower.

His dorm is dark when Neil unlocks the door. For some reason all of the lights have been turned off, and it instantly strikes Neil as odd. He knows he can double check the schedule taped to the fridge, but he distinctly remembers Nicky’s class getting out earlier than his. Even stranger still is the fact that someone has blocked out the windows, so only a few straggling bands of light seep in. The stark darkness puts Neil on edge, settling deep in his chest and making waves of anxiety begin to churn. He knows it’s been three years, that there’s no need to run anymore, but that doesn’t stop the disquiet in his bones or ease the itch now sparking in his muscles. He’s considering heading up to the roof and texting Andrew when the lights flick on.

“Surprise!”

Neil jolts at the sudden change and shout, stumbling back and slamming his elbow into the door frame.

“Graceful.”

It takes Neil a moment to recognize that sarcastic tone, and another still for his eyes to register Allison’s unimpressed face across the room from him. He has to blink a few times to fully take in the room. Matt and Dan are standing just outside the kitchenette, arms still up, where they must’ve been hiding for the surprise. Allison and Renee are standing behind the couch. Even Kevin’s there, perched on the couch beside Andrew. Streamers have been hung all over from the ceiling, some twisted together in a pattern and others hanging down to create curtains in the doorways. Two bundles of balloons sit either side of the desks where a stack of brightly colored gifts awaits.

“That was priceless. You should’ve seen your face,” Nicky says, coming over to sling his arm around Neil’s shoulders and show the striker a video on his phone. “I am definitely posting this.”

Before Neil can respond, he’s being pulled into a bear hug.

“Oh, man, we got you good,” Matt says, ruffling Neil’s hair. “Happy birthday, Neil.”

Once Matt releases him, Dan steps up for a hug of her own, giving him a tight squeeze.

“Happy birthday,” she says. “So, did you want to do presents or cake first?”

“I can’t believe you all came back,” Neil says, looking around the room and addressing everyone. “You didn’t have to do that. Or get me anything.”

“Same old Neil,” Allison sighs.

“Let’s do presents first,” Dan says, pushing Neil to sit down on the couch before handing him a gift wrapped in bright blue paper. “That’s from Allison.”

All of the Foxes take seats around Neil as the striker slowly starts to tear open the gift. He opens the box to find new clothes, including a new hoodie.

“I know you prefer comfort over fashion,” Allison says. “So, at least that’s high-end.”

“Thanks,” Neil says, setting the opened box aside.

The next gift reveals a nice moleskin sketchbook and a set of pencils and pens.

“For your doodles,” Renee explains sweetly.

Dan’s gift is a collage photo frame, and Neil takes a minute to examine each photo. There’s one of all of them after championships, one of him and Andrew from the girls’ graduation party, one of him and Matt from a neon party they went to Matt’s last year. Neil touches each photo, and he can’t help the smile that pulls its way across his face. Seeing all these makes warmth pool in his gut, and for a moment, his chest feels tight with everything he feels for this family, his family. They’ve stood by him for years, and now they’ve all journeyed down just for his birthday. It leaves Neil feeling overwhelmed and yet so happy. He’s not sure how to even begin to put into words how grateful and thankful he is.

“Way to go, Dan,” Nicky says. “How is anyone supposed to follow up a gift like that?”

Despite his words, Nicky drops a card into Neil’s lap. Inside is a hand drawn coupon declaring one free ticket to Germany.

“So you can come visit me, obviously. Just pick a date, and I’ll buy the ticket.”

Another card reveals season tickets to the Charlotte Cardinals games from Matt and the last has a gift card to Exites in it from Kevin.

“I think that’s all of the gifts,” Renee says, checking the desk they were previously piled on for any stragglers.

“Wait. What about Andrew?” Nicky says. “Didn’t you get Neil anything?”

“I really didn’t need any of these gifts,” Neil pipes up.

“That’s no excuse!” Nicky continues before turning on Andrew. “Seriously, you didn’t get your own boyfriend a gift for his birthday?”

“Maybe his gift to Neil is the type he’d rather give when they’re alone later,” Allison says.

“I did not need to know that,” Matt mutters.

“Alright,” Dan says, pitching her voice above everyone and clapping her hands together in an attempt to diffuse the tension quickly accumulating in the room. “How about cake now?”

Everyone sings ‘Happy Birthday’ while the cake is brought out, and they encourage Neil to make a wish and blow out the candles. Neil thinks for a moment, but he can’t think of anything he’d wish for. Everything he could ever want is right here. He has a group of people who love and support him, who will always have his back and are willing to drop everything for something as trivial as a birthday. He has someone who doesn’t flinch away from his scars or his past, who’s strong enough to hold him up. He has an Exy court down the road that’s his home, that has a team ready and willing to follow him. And he has a future to look forward to for once. A future full of more of this.

So Neil closes his eyes and thinks of nothing as he blows out his candles.

Once the cake is cut and divvied up and the booze is broken out, the room fills up with warm and comfortable chatter. It’s like half the people in this room haven’t graduated, like nothing has changed, and Neil is more than happy to sit and just bask in it. He sips at the drink that was mixed for him and watches everyone around him, hoards the sights and sounds for when everyone leaves. He talks a bit with Allison about her designing and with Renee about where her next adventure will be. He even briefly talks with Kevin and Matt about the differences of playing in the pro-league.

The hours tick by faster than Neil would like, but eventually the night has to come to a close. Matt and Dan are making the two-hour trip back to Charlotte, and Allison and Renee are heading back to a hotel for the night before flying out early tomorrow morning. Kevin leaves to head to Wymack’s for the night, and the living room feels too empty as the last of the Foxes file out to head to bed. Neil tries not to feel deflated by the change, but the catch in his lungs with each breath is hard to ignore. He looks down at Dan’s gift and tries to cling desperately to the feelings of just an hour before.

A nudge to the side brings Neil back and when he looks to his left, Andrew is standing from the couch and heading for the door. Neil is quick to follow and they head up to the roof. They’re quiet as Andrew lights up two cigarettes, eyes watching out over the campus. It’s a clear night for once but the lights from the freeway blur out most of the stars. It’s still nice. The warmth from the spring night and Andrew beside him settling Neil.

Andrew lights up his second cigarette and curls his fingers around Neil’s wrist. He raises Neil’s hand up between them and drops a key into the palm. Neil freezes in confusion for a moment before he brings the key closer to his face and examines the simple stainless steel of it. He flips it over once before running his finger along the ridges and dips.

“What’s this for?” Neil asks.

“Finally decided,” Andrew says. “Sent over my paperwork to the Monarchs a few days ago.”

“What does that have to do with a key?”

“I’m not going to commute to Boston from here. Got an apartment in Back Bay.”

Neil blinks a few times at Andrew’s profile as he continues to smoke. He watches the way the smoke curls around the goalkeeper’s features for just a moment before he glances back down at the key in his hand.

“Happy birthday I guess.”

Neil closes his fingers around the key and bites his lip around a smile. Happy birthday indeed.