#curl girl Neil josten

[koldefingre]

They are so “something in the orange” to me.

I cannot stop drawing them sleeping/living gently, Andreil has truly taken up my brain space.

[allforthegaymes]

Neil josten and his disposable cameras against the world.

Neil josten who has spent his entire life ducking away from photos, whose heart still beats a little faster when he sees a photo blown up for a poster on the side of the stadium when the season starts up again. Who sees a news article about himself go up and refuses to read it, trusting his pr manager (and andrew) to make sure anything posted about him isnt something weird.

Neil josten with a different disposable camera tucked into the pockets of every pair of jeans, each backpack and duffel bag, and shoved into nearly any crevice of the apartment.

(Andrew fishes at least one a month out of the dryer after they get forgotten in Neils jeans)

At first Abby had suggested it as a way to get more used to hearing a camera flash and associate it with something positive.

So theres rolls and rolls of film developed around the dorm, photos of the foxes, the stadium when the sun sets over it and lights the sky up orange. Blurry photos from Edens of Aaron and Nicky dancing to ABBA, photographed right after is a picture of both of them leaning on the bar wall outside crying into their phones trying to call Katelyn and Erik.

(Andrew corrals them into the car when he realizes that Aaron and Nicky drunkenly called one another and had been blabbering to one another from just over a foot away thinking they’d actually called their respective partners)

A series of photos of Kevin drunk and half leaning over the bar trying to snag someone elses drink that Roland is in the middle of mixing, showing Roland darting back and forth trying to dodge Kevins long reach.

Another photo of Kevin being dragged out of Edens by security, Rolands mixer held up victoriously in his hand as he’s brought outside.

A picture of Allison leaning against her pink convertible. Her hair is tossed back behind her and her mouth is open with a loud bark of laughter. She’d glared at Neil after for taking a picture of her unaware but she has the photo pinned up in the girls dorm room anyways.

Photos of all the cats at the shelter when they decide to adopt Sir. Most of the photos are of Sir. Nearly all of them looking identical because of the Persian’s inability to not have a permanent glare on his face.

The cycle repeats when they get King. The Scottish Folds face etched with a permanently shocked look.

Theres a photo of her on the bathroom counter, feet blurry in the bottom of the photo but its clear shes trying to scramble backwards, the edge of a hair tie looped around the sink faucet and the other half lodged in her mouth as she tries valiantly to pull it loose without getting it in the water spray as Andrew washes his face in the mirrors reflection.

Andrew takes up the majority of the photos. Sure there’s hundreds pictures of the other foxes scattered about but Andrew is always Neil’s main focus.

Wether its actually Andrew framed front and center, always trying to give his typical unimpressed look but constantly betrayed by the uptick of the corners of his mouth, the slightest peak of his teeth when he closes his eyes at the beginning of a tired smile towards Neil.

Or if its not related to Andrew, the essence of him always ends up leaking in. The curl of cigarette smoke at the bottom of a photo of the sunset view from the top of Fox Tower. The reflection of his arm bands in the photo Neil snapped of the Maserati in the rain.

Neil’s favorites are the ones of him and Andrew in their house after theyve gone pro. Its a cozy house out in Washington, close enough to the Seattle team that they can comfortably commute each day without having to actually live within the city.

The lighting is always half shit because of the constant overcast sky outside. But the array of lamps inside always try their best to make the photos look orange and cozy.

Andrew sat asleep in Neils armchair. The bright orange fabric something that Andrew had huffed and rolled his eyes at, but constantly found himself in instead of the black designer chaise Andrew had bought. Both cats are on him. Sir sat on his shoulder glaring down at King, who is in the process of trying to eat his hoodie strings.

Andrew stood in the kitchen, his bare back turned towards Neil as he pours a smoothie out from the blender, arm already reached behind him and holding Neil’s smoothie glass out towards him.

Andrew a half second later, turned looking startled over his shoulder in shock from the sound of the camera shutter as Neils smoothie is caught in motion falling to the floor. Another photo following of Neil hunched over on the floor sweeping up glass.

A photo of Andrew stood with his hip cocked looking up at the light fixture on the ceiling, arms crossed in front of his chest as he stares up at it, the light half ripped out of the ceiling when he’d gotten the midnight urge to change it and then quickly remembered he was a professional athlete and not an electrician.

Andrew hunched over in the engine of a Mustang. The cars an obnoxious bright yellow, two black racing stripes gone up the middle of the hood. His hands are covered in grease and theres a streak of grease running through his short blonde hair as well. Theres a wrench in his hand and a jug of some fluid propped on the engine that Neil doesnt care enough to understand what its for.

And Neil knows the foxes start taking more pictures of him, can hear the camera shutter or see the flash going off but doesnt flinch away or try to sidestep out of the way anymore. Doesnt care that theres evidence of Neil Josten being a real man that exists and lives a real life outside of fake IDs and lies, because he has photos of the life he’s created for himself as well.

[aftgficrec]

Staff Recs - Autumn Roundup 2024

Some fics with fall vibes to warm your soul. -AFTG Fic Rec Fam

previous recs:

staff fave Halloween here (includes previous Halloween recs and supernatural roundup)

Fall Exchange 2020 here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘morbid stuff’ series here

‘The End Is Up To Us’ here

‘Autumn Crocus’ here

‘The Suit Universe’ part 8 here

‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ here

‘FoxTail Cafe’ series part 13 here

‘Apple Picking Day’ here

‘Fair Games’ here

‘little ghost’ here

‘Lucky Strike’ here

‘Foxglove Court’ series here

‘Thanks for nothing’ here

‘Teaching a caged bird to fly’ series part 5 here

‘Sugar, Spice, and Corporate Espionage’ here

‘The Massive Continuity of Ducks’ here

‘Spell it Out’ here

‘10 tips to stress less, without the tips’ here

‘Being So Normal’ here

‘Aidan Minyard’ here

Honeycomb by moonix [Rated T, 10871 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

In which Kevin owns a restaurant in a picturesque small town, Andrew is his chef, Neil disrupts the routine, no one gets poisoned with mushrooms, and life isn't so bad.

tw: implied/referenced eating disorders, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

Seasons of memory by butallmystars [Rated G, 4772 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil was all sorts of alluring and unusual; a thin strip of seemingly restless energy, eyes moving almost as much as his legs did, the bespoke lines of his blazer the most uniform thing about him and yet somehow not out of place.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

you wish I was yours (and I hope that you're mine) by lesbiankaz [Not Rated, 9526 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

“Aaron Minyard,” Allison said in a dramatic tone. “Truth or dare?” Aaron rolled his eyes. “Dare.” Kevin wasn't surprised. He knew Aaron would prefer to do a stupid dare instead of telling a single thing about himself. “I dare you,” she paused, making suspense, “to spend seven minutes in heaven with Kevin.” - Kevin has a crush on Aaron. Allison tries to help.

5 ultra-cute fall date ideas that will make your man fall more for you by Bravbo [Rated G, 1364 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

The problem starts with one Neil Josten. Neil who has apparently never celebrated any holidays. Neil, with his blasé attitude about violence. Neil, with his distressingly blue eyes and freckles. Neil, who Andrew want to put on a jar and study like a bug. Yes, Neil Josten is a problem. It´s him that has driven Andrew to this, seeking advice on google like a teenage girl just to make sure Neil has the best holiday.

tw: fire

Float Down (Like Autumn Leaves) series by Apaleyellow [Not Rated, 7309 Words, Collection, Updated Oct 2024]

Part 1: fill my cup half empty (because it's never been half full) [5221 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024] The boy's face in the reflection was pale, almost translucent, with freckles dotting his cheeks and auburn hair falling in untamed curls around his face. His eyes were an icy blue, piercing and filled with a haunting sadness. Nathaniel Wesninski. The Butcher's son. The ghost of the manor. -- OR -- The one where Andrew is a best-selling horror author who visits the Wesninski Manor in search of inspiration for his next book.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

Part 2: would we survive in a horror movie? [2088 Words, Complete, 2024] Their moment was interrupted by Seth's booming voice. "Alright, losers. Time for a real story. Ever heard of the Butcher of Baltimore?" -- OR -- The one where the Foxes are telling scary stories around a campfire and only Andrew knows who Neil really is.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder 

penchant by rooftopkisses [Rated T, 5051 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

When Neil is recruited by Coach Wymack to join the track team at Palmetto High School, he draws the attention of Andrew, the artsy loner, as well as Kevin, the sport’s current state champion.

Rebel Rebel by Andreil_pipedream [Rated M, 7905 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2024]

October settles down on the small town outside of Baltimore. Werewolves start haunting the forests and a certain orange cat gets curious. Nell meets an interesting girl who she may or may not have a crush on. After an awkward first meeting, things are made worse- or better- when she finds out they go to the same school. After a few risky decisions and oblivious flirting, she gets a date where everything starts to go wrong.

tw: child abuse, tw: extreme transphobia, tw: gaslighting, tw: confinement, tw: food deprivation, tw: implied/referenced murder

it's still the autumn leaves by TogeMythia [Rated T, 3389 Words, Complete, 2024]

‘Can I come with you?’ Andrew paused, he was sat on the floor with one foot awkwardly in the air and a black sock with an orange pumpkin pattern halfway pulled on. ‘What?’ He asked. ‘Can I come with you? Wherever you are going.’ - or Neil and Andrew spend an autumn afternoon together.

A Bushel and a Peck by justdk [Rated T, 1405 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew picked a few low hanging apples, handing one to Neil. They wiped them off on their shirts and snacked on them while they looked for the rest of the team. The sweet, tangy juice filled Neil’s mouth and ran down his chin. It tasted way better than a store-bought apple. Overhead crows called to each other and the smell of apples filled the crisp, autumn air. Neil closed his eyes and breathed in deep, holding in the feeling of freedom and possibility. When he opened his eyes, he found Andrew looking at him, hazel eyes warm and steady. [or: the Foxes go apple picking]

Bets, Blind Dates, and Dares. Oh My! by makebelieveanything [Rated T, 3761 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew loses a bet to Aaron and Kevin and he has to go on two blind dates - they go about as well as he would expect. Is Andrew stuck in a rom-com or is this really how life works?

gourd vibes only by otatop [Not Rated, 3750 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

A mini road trip up through New England to meet the foxes.

Disparity by Jeni182 [Rated G, 3781 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

Andrew is a criminal justice professor who keeps finding excuses to visit the library where a certain red head works.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

hopscotch heart by moonix [Rated M, 2046 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Podfic here

Neil has a terrible time at a party. Andrew shows up and Neil has a slightly less terrible time at a party.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: anxiety

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness by seaspeak [Not Rated, 869 Words, Complete, 2016, Locked]

In which Jean falls in love with the Fall, thanks to Jeremy

There Was Only One Pumpkin by familiarwildflowers [Not Rated, 2275 Words, Complete, AFTG Fall Exchange 2021]

To get Nicky off his back about his dating life, Neil decided to lie. Surely there would be no consequences? That's what Neil thought, until, while on a visit to a pumpkin patch, Andrew's lot steps in and he's forced to confront his lie.

Pumpkin Patch by H_bee69 [Rated G, 1600 Words, Complete, 2023]

Part 1 of Spooky times and autumn vibes 

Neil wants to go to the pumpkin patch and who is Andrew to deny Neil.

until I fell off from that peak by eeveepkmnfan [Rated M, 4817 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten lives and tries to come to terms with what that means. Or, Neil collects leaves - Andrew vocally protests.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Forever Falling by cshogg [Rated G, 1370 Words, Complete, 2023]

Snippets of Neil and Andrew's life during autumn: trying new things, rewriting traumatic experiences, and learning to love the seasons like normal people do.

[waterloovase]

have this: long haired, also he/they, neil josten

— it wasn't exactly intentional.

— between practice, schoolwork and public appearances (not to mention the fact neil now had friends, which he wasn't exactly used to), neil just didn't have time to cut their hair

— and that was fine! he didn't mind

— if anything, it was kind of nice, feeling it brush their chin as he scored a goal

— neil barely even noticed it was growing

— but andrew & kevin noticed. oh, boy, did they notice.

— if kevin deliberately sat neil in front of him on movie night so he could quietly braid their hair, nobody said anything

— and if andrew tugged his hands through neil's hair when they showered after a particularly gruelling game, well, that was no one's business but theirs.

— so, either way, neil wasn't complaining

— and then there was the girls. allison, renee and dan; they were obsessed with it

— allison was suddenly recommending her favourite shampoo & conditioner to neil (they smelt like something herbal, almost comforting. andrew loved it hated it.)

— every week renee invited neil into her dorm for some cookies & taught him her favourite hairstyles

— and dan showed neil how to care for his curls because he really, really needed that at this point

— eventually it became a grounding thing for neil

— they had a nightmare? no problem, andrew and kevin were at his back, braiding his hair

— secretly nervous before a game? allison was right here, talking about whatever expensive new hair product they needed to try, and neil's breathing would ease

— sometimes, it was even matt or nicky. (dan said he must be touch starved, whatever that meant.)

— but of course, someone took it the wrong way.

— they were playing a game against one of the west-coast teams, a new one that had already gotten plenty of red cards

— and one of them, having seen andrew's hands in neil's hair pre-game, decided it would be a good idea to pull their hair.

— needless to say, it ended with kevin's fist on the player's jaw and allison's high heel in somewhere unprintable.

[codename-adler]

foxes + onesies (7/9)

based off of that one post i saw and don’t remember, where people once caught Allison wandering around Fox Tower in a giraffe onesie, and i absolutely melted for her. here is the Foxes’ journey to getting a onesie each!

Andrew

TW: mentions/implications of sexual abuse

Andrew does not get a onesie

instead, he watches Lilo & Stitch, alone, in his bed, on his laptop

the first time he saw the movie, it was in theaters

he was 4 or 5, maybe

it was with one of his first foster families, who cared for three other foster kids, all around Andrew’s age: Claire, Kelly and Ben

sometimes he wonders where they are now, but he doesn’t care: it’s just a fleeting thought

Lilo & Stitch marked him for life

something about Nani and Lilo’s relationship, something about family struck him deep

something about it broke his little heart, and he never recovered

and yeah, the aliens were pretty cool too

but Andrew never said anything about it to anyone

except for the year before he turned seven

he was still with the same foster family that had brought him to the movies

for Christmas, instead of asking for the usual necessities like clothes or the very unnecessary candies… Andrew asked for Lilo & Stitch

and he got it

he got the brand new VHS

he kept it under his pillow for a few months, untouched, unopened

at night, he would run his little fingers along the edges of the box, and play the movie in his head

because yes, in one viewing, Andrew had memorized the entire movie and could now remember it scene by scene, eyes closed

Lilo & Stitch was one of the first things he actively committed to his memory

Andrew only put the VHS on when the other kids were out of the house

which, didn’t happen a lot

he watched it maybe three or four times before moving into another foster family

Andrew didn’t care that he left this one, as long as he could keep Lilo & Stitch

the next few foster homes he moved into were packed with kids

like, 8 kids and counting

all his foster parents were either greedy, exhausted, overworked or deeply uncaring

by the time he was 7, Andrew had rewatched his VHS less than five times

he was always so careful with it, he never let anyone touch it, and he often threw hands with whoever dared lay a hand on it

which is part of why, by the time he was 7, Andrew had been through 4 more foster homes

he remembers the night he lost his VHS, though

and he remembers exactly where he left it

he was in a home with 9 other kids ranging from 7 months to 13 years old

the foster mother was a lazy woman, but very stressed out and impatient

the 7-months-old that had just joined them 2 weeks ago was giving everyone migraines

one night, the woman couldn’t take it anymore; she had to get rid of some kids

but instead of calling child services to take away the baby, she told them to come pick up “three cases”

Andrew knew he was one of them, somehow

he slipped out the backdoor and into the garden

he dug a hole in the far back, with his bare hands

he buried Lilo & Stitch right there and then

he slipped into the house again, unnoticed

he washed his hands of the cold, wet, black dirt without a second thought

child services came that night and left with Andrew and the other two oldest kids

Andrew didn’t care, he just thought that the woman was stupid

Andrew wasn’t fun, wasn’t cute, wasn’t nice

but at least he didn’t talk, didn’t cry, took care of himself

after that home, he was transferred to a new one, where he was alone

a middle-aged couple took him in, Sandra and Harvey Whittaker

it was that home

Andrew was glad his VHS never touched a thing from that dirty house

the rest, as they say, was history

Andrew never saw the movie again

he never once closed his eyes to recall every minute of Lilo and Stitch’s adventures, never uttered a word about it, never even glanced at anything resembling a blue little alien or a red hawaiian pattern

until Palmetto

it was totally by accident

Andrew had gone on his usual convenience store runs to buy ice cream

(he was thinking bubble gum or peanut butter rocky road)

and right there, next to the register, a DVD stand

with all the Fast & Furious, the Marvel movies, Stuart Little…

and Lilo & Stitch

Andrew bought it on a whim

he went back to his dorms with his movie and his pints of ice cream, and locked himself in his room

he put it on his laptop, and watched

it was still the same

it was still good

it was still Lilo, and Stitch, and Nani

(David was, well, quite good-looking now, though)

(but why did he have to be called David? that was Wymack’s name, it was an ugly name, a boner-killing name. why.)

as the credits rolled, Andrew removed the DVD from his laptop, put in back into its box and hid it in his desk

Andrew went on with his life as if nothing had happened

but that wasn’t… nothing

and so now, in present-day Fox Tower, the Foxes had got it into their heads to make one Neil Josten watch the Disney classics

mind you, Neil didn’t care at all

action movies or intense movies could keep his attention long enough, but “baby movies”, as he called them, did nothing for him

but these Disney nights served as bonding time for the Foxes, and Neil could sneak a nap in the back of the room while Andrew played with his hair

however, one night, when Matt had suggested they watch Lilo & Stitch next, Andrew had left the room without a word

which, not unusual per se, but Neil could tell it didn’t mean nothing

he didn’t follow Andrew, nobody did, but Neil waited until half the movie to go looking for him

he found him in his room, in his bed, his laptop illuminating his face

Neil went to stand at the end of the bed

Neil: Yes or no?

Andrew: …Yes.

Neil got into Andrew’s bed and laid down beside Andrew, face smushed into the pillows, a foot of space between their bodies

Neil angled his head backwards to glimpse at the screen

and right there

Lilo & Stitch

Neil looked up at Andrew, then back at the screen, then again at Andrew

he didn’t smile

he didn’t tease

he didn’t move

he didn’t say a word

he just looked at Andrew, and looked, and looked and looked and looked…

Andrew: Staring.

Neil stopped, then, and curled himself on his side, eyes trained on the screen

Andrew removed his earbuds, lowered the volume of his laptop and put on the subtitles for Neil, because he knew that would give him something more to focus on

they watched the whole movie together

Neil stayed awake

Andrew stayed put

Neil stayed

Andrew stayed

it’s a month later, when Neil comes back from class and checks their P.O. box

it’s there

he goes up to the girls’ dorm and asks Renee for her Post-Its

he then goes back to his dorm, where Andrew is sitting on his bed, with his laptop

Neil simply chucks him the package but doesn’t wait for Andrew’s reaction

on the plastic bag, a single orange Post-It with Neil’s terrible handwriting

Ohana

Andrew knows what it is

he’s seen the others

with their ugly-ass wannabe pajamas

he rips the plastic open nonetheless, because it’s a package, it demands to be opened

and yeah, it is what he knew it was

an oversized, velvety blue onesie

it’s Stitch

it grants Neil a 399%

so, maybe Andrew wears it, maybe he doesn’t

because he didn’t want a onesie

and, technically, Andrew did not get a onesie

but Neil did

yet, Andrew keeps it, and the Post-It

because maybe he did want a onesie

because it’s Stitch

because it’s from Neil

because Ohana

[darkblueboxs]

The Words that Cut

AKA "nine times Andrew was called pretty and hated it + one time he didnt"

Read here or on AO3

Summary:            

“I used to think it would have been easier,” Andrew says. The words cost him more than Neil can know, but Bee says it’s important to get better at these things. If he wants to keep Neil, anyway. “If I looked different.”

There's a lot he leaves out of that sentence.

“Just look at him! Isn’t he precious?!” The stranger’s hand comes out of nowhere, pinching Andrew’s cheek and tugging. Be on your best behaviour, his case worker had warned him. And maybe this time it’ll stick. Andrew isn’t sure he wants it to. He keeps his gaze fixed on his scuffed sneakers, shoelaces trailing because he still hasn’t gotten the hang of the knots. Until the hand pinching his face forces him to look up.

“And gosh, look at those eyes!” The latest in Andrew’s never-ending line of foster parents doesn’t look so different from the rest. Her face is too close, and Andrew can smell her breath when she speaks, sharply tinged with tobacco. He wrinkles his nose, and she frowns. “Now, now, none of that. We don’t want to spoil that pretty little face, do we?” And she punctuates the question with another hard pinch to his cheek. Andrew bares his teeth, and she smiles. “Much better. Don’t you look beautiful!”

Then Andrew sinks his teeth into her hand, and she starts to scream instead.

*

…and this is Andrew! He’s going to be staying with us for a while. You’ll make sure your new foster brother feels very welcome, won’t you? Now both of you stand together, I want to take a photograph of my two handsome boys…

*

Andrew’s hook-up tucks himself back into his grey prison-standard joggers, panting heavily.

“Fuck,” he says, which just about sums it up.

Andrew wipes his hand off, keeping his eyes fixed on the grey expanse of wall behind the other boy’s head.

“That was hot,” he continues, as though Andrew cares. He got what he wanted from the encounter: now all he wants to be is alone.

“Go away.”

He flicks a significant look downwards, smirking. “C’mon, you really want me to leave you like this?”

Andrew grabs him by the neck and shoves him back against the wall, forcing his gaze away from his body. “I said go away.”

Instead of showing any sign of fear, his pupils dilate as he leans into the pressure of Andrew’s hand around his neck. “Fuck, you’re hot.” He reaches for Andrew, and Andrew’s mind goes black with rage.

He does not lay a hand on Andrew again.

*

“Look. Over there, by the lockers. No, no, don’t make it obvious!”

“No way! He looks just like Aaron. But also kind of cuter?”

“Are you crazy? They have the same face!”

“Yeah, but he’s got like, a bad-boy mystique. You heard he just got out of prison, right? Think he has a girlfriend yet?”

“Ew, Tracy.”

“Ask him for me. Please? I’ll do your math homework for the rest of the week.”

A girl with curly brown hair and freckles appears at Andrew’s shoulder as he slams his locker shut.

“My friend thinks you’re cute.”

Andrew doesn’t even bother with a perfunctory glance in the girl’s direction. “Your friend can fuck off.”

She looks affronted for all of a second before her lips curl downwards. “Whatever, jackass.”

Andrew isn’t quite out of earshot by the time she returns to her friend.

“Forget about it, Tracy. His brother is hotter anyway.”

Andrew’s hands clench into fists of their own accord. When they try to approach Aaron after practice, Andrew makes it clear what happens to anyone who shows interest in his brother.

*

Andrew hears his cousin’s screams before he even rounds the corner to see him splayed on the cobblestones, his nightclub attire torn and muddied with boot prints. Men circle him like vultures, teeth bared, eyes shining with mad hunger. Andrew has seen that look before too many times. Nicky’s attackers smirk as Andrew approaches, but the slouch of their shoulders says they don’t see him as a threat. It’s the last mistake they’ll ever make.

“Andrew, run,” Nicky says, words thickened by puffy, bleeding lips. His face has been beaten so badly it’s not even clear where the blood is coming from.

One of the men laughs. “Who is this, your boyfriend? Come on, baby, we can make you look just as pretty as your bitch over there.”

Andrew steps forward, knife in hand.

*

“Huh,” says Nicky on Andrew’s first night home with meds swirling through his system. “You actually have a really cute smile, Andrew.”

Grinning, Andrew puts his fist through a wall, and nothing more is said on the matter.

*

“The Foxes’ deadliest investment.” The journalist thrusts a microphone so close to Andrew’s face he practically inhales it. “And certainly one of their cutest! Andrew Minyard, do you have anything to say to your growing legion of fans? I’m sure all the girls want a piece of you, and I can’t say I blame them!”

Andrew bares his teeth. False laughter bubbles up within him, and he clenches his jaw to keep it in his throat. “How do my fans feel about disembowelment?”

The journalist is less eager to take his picture after that.

*

“C’mon, Renee, you can tell us. Are you really just fighting down there? Or are you getting another kind of action, if you catch my drift?”

“Allison…”

“Don’t answer her, Renee, she’s just trying to win her bet.”

“Can’t I just be interested? I mean, can you imagine it? I mean, sure, Minyard’s pretty in his own psychotic way, but the height. It’s gotta be an issue, right? Unless you’re really into small-”

“ALLISON!”

Andrew knocks at the door, saving his ears from any more of their gossiping. “Renee.”

“Coming!” Renee picks up her water bottle, relief washing her features while Dan and Allison choke on their laughter behind her.

*

Hello, handsome, says an impossible voice at his ear. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

Oh, Luther, Andrew thinks as the bottle collides with the side of his head. I’m going to kill you.

*

He catches Neil poking at his scars in the bathroom mirror, digging his fingers into the darkened patches hard enough to scratch half-moons into the healing skin. His eyes meet Andrew’s in the reflection. All Andrew has to do is raise an eyebrow, and it’s as though Neil hears the question before he even has to formulate it.

“They’re distinctive,” he says by way of an answer.

“So?”

“Not exactly anonymous,” Neil huffs.

Andrew steps forward until he is lined up along Neil’s back, glaring at his reflection over his shoulder. “You have no need for anonymity.”

“I know,” Neil says, still glaring at his reflection. “And I’m glad I don’t look like my father anymore, but…”

“Vanity doesn’t suit you, Josten.”

Neil sighs. “Easy for you to say.”

Andrew’s hands, which have come to rest on Neil’s waist, stop. He wills them not to clench. “What does that mean?”

The tips of Neil’s ears redden. “You know.”

“I don’t.”

“I mean, it’s not like you have anything to worry about. Not when you’re so-”

“No.” There’s no inflection in his tone, but Neil hears the urgency anyway.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Andrew lets his hands fall back to his sides, flexing the tremors from them.

“I used to think it would have been easier,” Andrew says. The words cost him more than Neil can know, but Bee says it’s important to get better at these things. If he wants to keep Neil, anyway. “If I looked different.”

There’s a lot he leaves out of that sentence. The burning after-effect of hands pinching his cheeks, pretty boy, pretty boy, pretty boy, over and over like a mantra that dug itself into his chest and festered there. The days where even the prickle of someone’s eyes on him made him want to vomit. The nights he considered turning the blades on his face instead of his arms in the hope of making himself too ugly to stomach.

He doesn’t say it, but the subtle shift in Neil’s gaze says that he doesn’t have to.

“Probably not,” Neil says. It isn’t offered as a consolation – Neil knows better where Andrew is concerned – but from understanding. “It’s never because of us. It’s because of them.”

Andrew leans into Neil once more, letting his chin come to rest on his shoulder. Their eyes meet in the reflection. “Probably not,” Andrew echoes, and Neil’s lips twitch. Something that has been tied up in Andrew’s chest for far too long pulls and untangles. “Distinctive isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Neil’s lips twitch again, the movement blossoming into a lobsided half-smile that does terrible things to Andrew’s self-control. “Are you calling me pretty?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“Oh.” Neil leans his head to the side so that it bumps against Andrew’s. “Well. You too.”

And, because it’s here and now and most importantly Neil, this time the words don’t cut. Andrew swallows them with a curt nod and leans into the kiss that follows, and everything that comes after. *

[georgecostanzaatemysoup]

Smoke curled from Andrew’s cigarette and drifted towards the open window. He pulled it from his mouth, blowing smoke rings towards the ceiling, leaning back on his hand. It looked like it was going to rain.

The door flew open and he turned to see his brother standing in the doorway, dark gaze locked on him, and he tossed the cigarette out of the window. It appeared Aaron was looking for a fight.

“Problem?” Andrew tilted his head, fixing a bored expression on his face.

“You are a fucking hypocrite,” Aaron snapped jabbing a finger at Andrew.

Andrew raised his eyebrows, amused. This argument had been coming, but he was surprised it took Aaron this long.

“How so, dear brother?”

“Don’t play stupid, Andrew. We both know you’re not.” Aaron stalked across the room, stopping just out of Andrew’s reach. “No friends, no girlfriends, just us. That’s what you said. And I know Josten isn’t a girl, but you’re still breaking your own rules by fucking him or whatever it is you two are doing.”

“Neil is nothing to me,” Andrew said with a bored shrug, crossing his arms. “I have no idea what you’re...”

“Fuck you,” Aaron snarled, cutting his brother off, ignoring his annoyed glare. “I saw you two in Baltimore. I heard what you said to him, about not trusting those FBI guys to bring him back. I saw your face, Andrew. You can pretend he’s nothing to you, but you and I both know that’s not true.”

Andrew scowled.

“So you have a choice, dear brother,” Aaron continued, gesturing behind him towards the door. “You can get off my ass about dating Katelyn or you break it off with Josten.”

“I’m not playing your little game.” Andrew tried to walk around his brother but Aaron caught his arm and pulled him back, swinging his body around until they were facing each other again. He wrenched his arm out of his brother’s grasp, curling his hands into fists. “Don’t touch me.”

“Or what? You’ll hit me?” Aaron laughed, shaking his head. He spread his arms out and said, “Go ahead, Andrew. Do it. It won’t make you any less of a hypocrite.”

White hot rage jolted through Andrew’s gut and his fingers brushed against the knife hidden in his arm band. He’d killed one family member, nothing was stopping him from doing it again.

He took a steadying breath, knowing killing Aaron would solve nothing, and he fixed another bored expression on his face. He stared directly into his brother’s eyes for a long few seconds before curling his lip and storming towards the door, shoulder checking him as he passed. Aaron didn’t bother stopping him this time.

“Where are you going?” Aaron called after him, and Andrew answered him by slamming the door.

He checked his watch, heading towards the elevator, digging his cigarettes and lighter out of his back pocket.

Neil’s class ended in a few minutes.

[dayurno]

post-retirement kevin day would 100% go back to his roots and get himself a little farm in rural ireland. i don't make the rules

okay let's be honest this man is probably going to be forced into retirement at the tender age of 29 because he fucked up his knees enough and even the moriyamas agree since the money will keep coming regardless

i don't know why you girls even bother at this point. it's kevin day. he got rich rich. he goes viral on twitter every two weeks. he has a balenciaga gig. he doesn't NEED to play exy to have money people just throw it at him because he's pretty

everyone is worried but andrew & neil specifically are like. He's Going To Die. He Can't Not Play Exy

but the truth is that kevin knew this was coming already. he won't let go of exy completely — the lord knows no one can make him do it — but he'll lay down on the physical exertion for now

so, ireland. it's a somewhat hard decision because both his partners are still in the us but at some point in his life kevin let go of the nest's codependency and realized he actually enjoys solitude and having lots of room to be himself. so it's not really surprising. andreil visit twice a month and keep in touch every day

the problem is that, as time passes, it becomes Extremely Clear that kevin is living the dream life. that cottagecore shit. he posts a picture of himself, shirtless, making clay pots on instagram and it's almost enough to make andrew rip up his contract and fuck off to ireland too

neil won't admit it but he Wants To Be There Too. it becomes harder to leave kevin's little farm the more they visit him. more than once andrew woke up at five in the morning thinking he has to feed the chickens only to be painfully reminded he's, in fact, in his own apartment in the other side of the world

totally ignorant 2 andreil's struggle, kevin is going full on cottagecore on that bitch. abby constantly sends picture of him baking bread from the scratch to the foxes' gc. he has a little ranch and a bunch of flowers and cows and it is a very, very soft life. he doesn't ever remember being this happy.

the breaking point to andrew is when they visit and the cats (fuckers. bastard. traitors) refuse to leave. sir is curled up on kevin's chest as they gently sway in the hammock and when andrew calls him to get him into his cage for their flight the fucker refuses. He Refuses

and andrew can't even be mad at him. because Me Too. i, too, wish i could stay here and curl up with kevin on the hammock and eat homemade strawberry jam every day.

so, after a brief negotiation with his team (& neil, who still wants to play exy for a little while) andrew just packs his bags and catches the first flight to ireland. kevin is DELIGHTED

kevin starts an exy youtube channel mostly to discuss stats and commentary but absolutely no one watches it for the exy. everyone watches it because they want to see handsome kevin day doing farm chores and sitting in a field of lavender and (most recently) teaching the neighboring kids how to ride horses and play exy

what breaks neil is the one picture andrew sends him of kevin wearing a stupid flowery hat under the sun and smiling at the camera like he's never been this happy before in his life. he looks ridiculous and soft and loved and neil makes it his phones lockscreen in a blink

the media catches up on kandreil at the exact same time: with neil's lockscreen and andrew appearing behind kevin during his youtube videos every now and then it's really hard to pretend they're not a Thing. especially because No One expected pro goalie andrew minyard to be feeding chickens and picking apples with kevin day in ireland.

neil signs up with an irish team the second his contract ends — you're telling me kayleigh day's country doesn't have a major exy league? okay. okay — and he's more than happy to reunite with kevin and andrew. occasionally the foxes come to spend a weekend or two in their farm and there has been one summer where nicky's army of adopted children and aaron's twins stay with them for the entire season. it's lovely

this is the story of how one (1) pretty boy made andrew minyard and neil josten, certified brooding presences(TM), move across the world and feed chickens for a living. they love it

the end

[philliamwrites]

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Fandom: All For The Game (Nora Sakavic)

Pairing: Neil/Andrew

Tags: #math nerd neil, #neil with glasses, #no exy

Summary: In which Neil hates his new prescribed glasses until they attract the interest of a certain Andrew Minyard.

Commissioner: Ziegenkind

Notes: Title taken from Billie Eilish’s ‘Ocean Eyes.’

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Dude, it’s just a frat party. Who doesn’t go to frat parties?

     The message flashes Neil’s screen white, its sender none other than his roommate Nicky who is supposed to study for an upcoming test in Public Policy in exactly nineteen hours. That’s what Neil writes him. Nicky’s reply comes instantly.

Those who study tend not to party. You know. Like you.

     Neil leaves him on read. If he wants to party, he’ll lock himself inside his room, two bottles of Jack Daniel’s by his side while watching every existing compilation of cats attacking people on the small screen of his phone. He knows how to have a good time, alright. Not everyone has to set their scale like Nicky: More than once Neil has been the spectator of him coming back to the dormitory completely wasted, but still eager enough to get frozen waffles from the fridge. Being too drunk to put them in the toaster, he usually just climbs up to his top bunk and puts them between his thighs to eat them partially defrosted. It’s this fragile line between genius and stupidity that has Neil doubting if he should fill in a request for changing roommates or just live with the fact that Nicky Hemmick is one special kind of man.

    So instead of spending his night curled into himself, wall against his back and eyes on every stranger distributing awful shots, Neil sits at the Math Tutoring Centre on the west side of the campus and gives group tutoring sessions.

    Math comes to Neil like breathing. Like Bertrand Russel said, not only does Mathematics possess truth, but supreme beauty—a beauty cold and austere, like that of a sculpture. It is sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. It is poetry—elegant and deep—of logical ideas to create harmony in a written line. Once he tried to explain that to Nicky over microwaved Mac n Cheese with Girls running in the background, clearly overestimating him, because Nicky only stared into space for a few seconds, and replied, “You really need to get laid, man.”

    Reluctant at the beginning, Neil only agreed to join the Tutor Program because his math professor promised to throw in some extra cash. Something about raising the graduate numbers in order to get the board of education off his back. That’s where Neil’s jurisdiction of interest ends, but he has enjoyed it more than expected—the empty hallways, the harsh light of the ceiling lamps, the smell of chalk, the faint echoes of students still lingering in classrooms. There’s this magic about the Palmetto State University at night—a vulnerability that can only live once the sun sets behind the horizon. When else would he find a kid sleeping under a table in the library, or seniors breaking down in tears for exact 10 minutes before continuing their studies as if nothing has happened.

    There’s another reason he’d rather spend his evening on campus, one Nicky doesn’t need to know because then Neil won’t hear the end of it. That reason being 5’0’’ tall chemistry prodigy Andrew Minyard, sitting in the last row of Neil’s math sessions each Friday. He only knows about him thanks to Nicky’s never-ending complaints, but that never really stopped him from throwing a few or more glances in Andrew’s direction. Just curiosity, of course.

    So when he stands in front of the blackboard now, putting away his lesson papers which are full of numbers and equations—the kind that has enough letters to look like sentences—he feels dozens eyes burn holes in the back of his neck, and one pair belongs to Andrew. No one asks why he’s here, but everyone knows he doesn’t need to be.

    In his one year of giving tutoring sessions, Neil has learnt that exactly three types of students exist: Students who are really good, certainly not in need of the extra lessons, but going anyway for some extra ego-buff and unnecessary brain-flexing. The second type is students who are okay, doing their tasks, following the lesson, not really attracting any attention safe for some crude jokes. The last type has Neil questioning his belief in the educational system of the whole state because he doesn’t understand how they are allowed inside the sacred halls of PSU.

    Andrew is a special type on his own—the enigma that keeps Neil awake at two in the morning because he’s desperate to solve it, but without knowing where to start, he’s just running in circles. His fingers itch to solve an equation with multiple variables, to find the solution to a problem and get it off his mind.

    He doubts it will be this easy with Andrew.

    “Before we continue to look at scalar products in R- and C-vector spaces, we’ll consider bilinear and semi-bilinear forms in general, and link them to matrices for their representation to chosen bases.” Neil’s hand flies across the board, leaving letters and parenthesizes that look like bizarre drawings—art in its most complex form. Once he’s finished, he takes a step away, wipes the chalk on his fingers off on his jeans, and turns to his audience. “What happens to this equation with the semi-bilinear form σ?”

    Two hands shoot up immediately. He ignores them; no need to feed their ego, and instead picks a freshman who’s been staring at his phone for the last ten minutes. Making way, Neil moves back to the student’s seats and leans against a desk.

    Is it the farthest place away from the board? It is.

    Is it the closest that will get him to Andrew? Might be so.

    It certainly gives him a good look at what Andrew’s been doing since Neil started—and that is not solving a single task on the paper Neil has handed out at the beginning of the session. Andrew, apparently bored before it even started, has taken out a slip of paper with a sudoku puzzle on it and is solving it against his leg, completely linked out of the instruction.

    Neil tries not to stare too much at Andrew’s bare arms, and instead looks back at the board.

    “Does that look right?” the freshman—Rhys or Rheeze or something like that—asks, turning around.

    Neil narrows his eyes and squints at the board. He can’t make out a single thing, and that’s bad, yes, but his feet betray him, staying rooted where they are instead of reducing the distance until he can distinguish σ from a.

    “Where does the l come from,” he asks. Multiple heads snap in his direction.

    “That’s a j, Josten,” someone says from the other side of the room.

    Neil squints harder. “And the u?”

    “A μ.”

    “No, it’s a v,” a girl next to Neil says, and that’s when the everyone starts shouting about what’s on the board and what isn’t.

    Neil bears it for a solid minute before he surrenders. He pulls a small case from his pocket, opens it. Puts his glasses on.

    The whole room goes silent.

    Neil checks the equation, nods. “Correct. Who’s next?”

    Multiple people stir, one manages to get up, and walks straight into a table leg. Neil questions that ‘straight’, because only then the freshman guy stops staring at Neil and steers his attention to the equation on the blackboard.

    It was a bad idea, and Neil still hates Allison for forcing him to go. She’d dragged him to the doctor last week to get his eyes tested, annoyed by his never-ending questions of ‘What’s written there?’ or ‘Is that a six or an eight?’.

    “They’re my eyes,” Neil had said, arms crossed as he sat in the office and waited for his turn.

    “And it’s me who has to see your ugly squinting face,” Allison had replied.

    Two hours later Neil had finally his prescriptions but that didn’t mean he was free from Allison’s clutches. He would have been fine with some glasses from the dollar store, but she insisted that if he’s going to wear them more than once a day, he should get designer glasses—thin frames and a color that matches his copper hair. She suggested gold. Neil picked black. The look of disappointment on Allison’s face was something that deserved its own painting to commemorate it. But once they’d finally chosen the right pair, she’d given him the very same look most of the students are giving him now—a mix between slight awe and disbelief as if he’s grown a second head. Or owes them all a month’s worth of lunch money.

    “Well,” had Allison said at least, turning away to pack up and go home. “Tigers have their stripes. I have my eyeliner.” She threw him another scrutinizing look over her shoulder. “You have your glasses.” If it was supposed to make him feel better, it didn’t work, and right now he regrets nothing more than allowing Allison to drag him around.

    Neil’s eyes land on Andrew’s sudoku puzzle, now half-hidden under his papers, and he sees now that he isn’t even solving the thing, but simply coloring in the empty squares.

    He takes a second too long and meets Andrew’s eyes staring back at him.

    “Problem, Josten?” Andrew asks with a blank expression, tapping the end of his pen against his monochrome picture of black and white squares.

    Neil wants to see how far he can push until he walks against a brick wall and breaks something. He returns his gaze to the board but feels Andrew’s eyes like a solid touch on the back of his neck.

    After the session, the students hurry outside, still throwing curious glances over their shoulders at Neil and if he could merge with the back of his chair and disappear forever, that would be totally okay. It isn’t until a shadow looms above him that he looks up from his own homework and draws in a careful breath when Andrew towers above him.

    Neil raises an eyebrow. “Problem, Minyard?”

    Andrew’s face gives nothing away, and when he stretches out a hand, Neil doesn’t flinch. His glasses slip off easily, held between Andrew’s thumb and index finger.

    “Nicky told me he’s trying to convince you to join him tomorrow,” Andrew says. Neil needs a second, because that is the most words he’s heard out of Andrew’s mouth.

    “I have no reason to go,” Neil says, his eyes jumping up and down, from the equation that makes his sight blur to Andrew leaning his slender waist against the table.

    “You have one now.” It’s barely neutral enough to not sound like a threat, but Neil stares at Andrew nonetheless, and when he puts Neil’s glasses on, Neil’s heart does a weird stutter. He’s still starring at Andrew when he leaves the room, and no, his eyes don’t stray, they stay on Andrew’s broad back, and if they dip lower it’s because of the light.

    Once he’s alone, Neil takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. Puts his head in his arms and counts to ten in French first, then again in German. His heart still does this weird thing, trying to bruise his ribs from the inside.

    He gets his phone, texts Nicky he’ll go to the frat party tomorrow and puts it away, not interested in his roommate’s reply. There’s still the equation he needs to solve, but for the first time Neil’s heart isn’t really into math, and he is quite alright with it.

[ronans-sepiaphotograph]

The Boyd-Wilds wedding:

Part 1-The proposal:

Part 2- The dress:

After the proposal, the foxes (minus Matt) enter a fancy dress boutique, of course it's Allison's idea, to a manager that's confused so as to who the bride is.

"Shut up Wilds, I don't have all this money for nothing you're gonna be the most beautiful, hottest, sports bride in PSU history."

Kevin being Kevin is annoyed because they have exy practice after this dress shopping business. Andrew almost throws a chair at him. Nicky and Neil coax him out of killing Day.

"This is important Kevin, your stickball can wait" "Shut up Neil" "Go buy yourself something pretty"

They bicker loudly until Renee calmly reminds them what they're here for and they calm down enough to allow a slightly pissed/amused Dan to start trying dresses.

Andrew, Kevin and Allison are the elected jury for the dress (They're the fashion gays let's be clear).

Dan comes out in a huge white montrosity that has Neil all dreamy eyed because she looks like a Disney Princess. Meanwhile Andrew, Allison and Kevin show various faces of dissapointment. Nicky looks like he's about to cry.

"Reynolds do me a favour and tell Matt to call it off" "Shut up Minyard, but you're right." "Dan it's a no"

Neil rolls his eyes but Dan seems to agree and goes inside again to change. Nicky whispers something like "she should show off that body because wow." Aaron snorts, unamused.

The second dress is a bit better but everybody likes it for some reason except Andrew, who doesn't say anything until Dan asks.

"What do you think?" "Why do you care what I think Wilds? Reynolds and Day look like they might explode out of excitement so-" "Yes Minyard but I asked you" "Do you like it then?" "I don't know if I'm completely satisfied with this" "Then change, you could do with tulle and flowers" "Thank you" "Fuck off wilds"

Neil Josten can read Andrew Minyard like a math textbook so he knows that Andrew is interested in this. All he does is smile to himself.

Dan comes out in the third dress, a lean gown that hugs her body right and shows off those toned arms and that beautiful skin and everybody just stops talking and stares. Even Aaron who wasn't interested looks at Dan.

Neil breaks the silence by literally jumping on Dan, hugging a teary eyed Dan as Neil squeals and Dan can't help but feel so good at hearing Neil laugh.

"Dan you look so pretty make me your backup husband" "You're our son Neil" "I'll kill for you if you want"

Andrew throws his phone at Neil's head but he catches it and proceeds to take a selfie with Dan (Nicky taught him what a selfie is).

Allison scoots closer to a glaring Andrew. "Minyard it'll be you in Dan's place sooner or later." Andrew's ears turn pink.

"Shut the fuck up Reynold or I will stab you here and I don't care about the blood or the dresses." Allison has the audacity to cackle while Andrew glares at her.

Allison, Kevin and Nicky are almost sobbing. Aaron is done with their shit. Andrew is unbothered but Neil catches his eyes crinkle. Renee watches with glassy eyes and Dan twirls with Neil.

"I feel like this is the one" the crowd erupts into screams and woohoo's as the store manager sighs deeply.

Dan looks expectantly at Andrew who shrugs in (feigned). nonchalance and Dan lights up.

"Thank you Minyard" "fuck off now that Boyd will actually want to marry you"

Nicky and Neil have disappeared which puts Andrew on edge and just as he's about to do something Nicky walks out of one the changing rooms, practically jumping.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you"

And Neil walks out, wearing a huge veil, that touches the floor. His face is a brilliant shade of pink and the veil and the crown of flowers sits awkwardly on his mess of Auburn curls.

The boys gape as the girls practically scream and run to hug Neil. Dan does a little move and twirls Neil around and he's a giggling mess of emotions.

Andrew has a brief moment of gay panic and of fucking course Neil catches him. He removes the veil carefully and throws it to Andrew.

"Keep it babe" and he has the audacity to wink. Andrew wants to bite Neil's head off and kiss that awful smile off of his stupid face.

"Minyard do it, propose to Josten right now." Andrew almost strangles Allison.

Neil chokes on his own spit as Aaron and Kevin make a gagging noise and Nicky is all around the place, shooting every second of it.

Not that he'll admit to anyone, maybe Neil but Andrew thinks Dan is a beautiful bride.

[jemej3m]

Dare You

anon asked:

If your still doing prompts... What about if Neil and Andrew are friends and Neil figures out that he likes Andrew and asks his friends how to woo him and then Andrew has to deal with Neil's terrible attempts at wooing. But everything neils doing is the same thing that Andrews been doing but in his own way? Idk, the idea just won't leave me alone and I'd love to see how amazing you could write it. Love your writing besides, it always makes my day :)

also on ao3!!

*

Neil and Andrew had been friends for 5 years when they have their first kiss. 

The context? Neil’s small-town friends had all found themselves at the same university. Obviously, they banded together. Obviously, there were parties. Neil’s not a party person himself, but he loved his eclectic family and wanted spend time with them whenever he could. He’d moved to Palmetto when he was 13 with his mother, and as the youngest of the group, watched as the rest of them moved on from middle school to high school, and then from high school to college. 

But now they were all back together again. 

Thus developed his (mild) enjoyment of Allison or Nicky’s chaotic fiascos, which were technically parties, just lacking any rhyme or reason. 

Andrew wasn’t a party person either: in high school, he, Neil and Renee would have movie nights instead, waiting for the rest of them to stumble home in drunken stupors. 

He still tagged along to these gatherings, though. Maybe because Neil and Renee were now commonly in attendance. Neil didn’t think that Andrew would come just for Neil, but he hadn’t worked out why Andrew had become so inclined to participate. Maybe because Aaron was there, and they were trying to patch things up with one another. Their mother’s accident had really put a rift between them. 

“Are you playing?” Allison demanded. “Neil, you’re playing. Renee’s managed to convince Andrew to play, so you’re playing.” 

“Fine,” Neil mused, mostly to appease the inebriated monster that Allison was. No attention was paid to him in these drinking games, mostly because he didn’t drink, but also because he didn’t do anything too unreserved. 

“Great!” she cheered, slinging an arm around his shoulder and brought him to the circle. He automatically took his seat next to Andrew, and felt his friend lean closer. 

Friend was a loose term. Neil and Andrew were almost attached at the hip: When Neil’s mom had died two years ago, Andrew snatched him away and got a spare mattress in his bedroom till Neil had enough money to afford rent somewhere. Andrew was the only one who knew every horrific detail of Neil’s violent childhood, and the only one who’d seen the scars left by his dead-beat dad. Neil was the only one who knew everything about Andrew, too. 

“Spin the bottle, Allison?” Dan leered as the girl put an empty beer bottle in the centre of the circle. Everyone was there. “We’ve got family members here!” Aaron mimed a retching action as Nicky laughed, clapping loudly. 

“It’s just to pick who has to do truth or dare,” Allison retorted, waving the bottle in Dan’s face. “You wanna go first, huh? I’ll pick out your dare for you, Wilds. A personal attribute!”

“No way,” Dan laughed, leaning back into Matt’s shoulder. The guy was half asleep: alcohol did that to him, sometimes.

“Fine, I’ll spin it,” Allison huffed. With a little too much vigour, she flicked the neck of the bottle, sending it spinning wildly. 

And of course, it had to land on Neil. 

“First of the night!” Nicky crowed. 

“Neil’s just going to pick truth,” Allison complained. “And make us all sad.”

Neil grinned at her. “Not my fault you grew up in a guilded bubble.” 

“Shut the fuck up. Choose!”

Neil hummed, cocking his head to the side. 

“Don’t do something stupid,” Andrew warned under his breath. 

“Dare,” Neil said. 

“Here we go,” his best friend sighed. 

“Fuck yeah,” Allison grinned. “What should we make you do, hm? We all know you can and will eat anything without even flinching, no clothes-off, no alcohol...” 

“Maybe he should go try and steal something,” Kevin slurred. “He’s good at it. Fuckin’ hot-wired a car once, for the hell of it.” 

“Fuck off, Kevin,” Neil managed, ignoring the incredulous looks that the others were giving him. 

“When the hell did you manage that?” Dan demanded. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.” 

“He should kiss Andrew,” Matt mumbled, burrowing his face into the crook of Dan’s shoulder. No one heard him. 

“We should see if he can jump from the dorm roof!” 

“No,” Andrew said. 

“He should shotgun three Caprisuns,”

“Too easy!”

“Fine, five!” 

“He should kiss Andrew,” Matt repeated, sitting up and blinking the sleepiness away. 

The circle grew quiet. 

“Yeah,” Allison breathed, grinning wildly. She looked to Neil. “You’ve gotta kiss Andrew.” 

Neil glanced at Andrew, whose gaze was hooded as he glared at the been in his hand. 

“I’m not doing that if Andrew doesn’t want to,” Neil said. 

Andrew shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“See?” Allison said, gesturing wildly. “Pucker up, Josten.” 

“Well, this isn’t how I expected this to go,” Neil muttered. Andrew looked up at him, something making his eyes sparkle. “Tonight, I mean.” 

“Right,” Andrew said. “Well? Hurry up.”

Neil hadn’t kissed many people before. Andrew knew that all too well: he’d heard about all three of Neil’s dating disasters in meandering rants about expectations and Neil’s lack of interest in - well, anyone, really. 

He was overthinking this. It was just a kiss. 

“And no measly pecks, either!” Dan insisted.

Andrew didn’t care. It was just a kiss.

Neil felt all stiff and awkward, because he had no idea what he was doing, but it was fine, because Andrew was tilting his head and lifting up his hand to press his fingertips to Neil’s cheek, tilting up his chin a bit. Neil let him. 

When Andrew drew back, all Neil could think was that his lips were so soft. So soft. Everything about the kiss had been feather light, which wasn’t like Andrew at all. 

Neil learned new things about Andrew every day. 

“Happy?” Andrew said, facing the circle once more. Allison was cheering as Nicky and Aaron gave each other all-knowing side eye: Dan was clapping, and Matt was looking right at Neil with his head tilted to the side. “Now: go pick on someone else.” 

“Someone your own size, might you say?” Nicky teased. Andrew flipped him off. 

It had been a nice kiss, Neil thought. He didn’t know Andrew could kiss like that. 

“You with us, Neil?” 

Neil glanced up and found everyone looking at him. “Yeah? Why?” He frowned. “Did it land on me again?” Did he have to kiss Andrew again? He didn’t want to: not in front of everyone, at least. 

Wait, what?

“You’ve been spared for now,” Allison grinned. Neil flipped her off. 

And that was Andrew and Neil’s first kiss. 

*

Neil burst into Matt and Kevin’s dorm room - obviously, he and Andrew shared one, and Aaron was in the fancy dormitory for academic scholarship students - in a small frenzy. 

“Hey,” he told Kevin, who was sitting on his bed minding his own business. “Fuck off.” 

Kevin glared at him. “You realise this is my room?”

Matt took off his headphones, looking over his shoulder from the tiny desk he’d crammed in at the end of his bed. It was comedically small in comparison with his gargantuan frame. 

“Please?” Neil begged. “I need to talk to Matt.” 

“Why can’t I hear it?” Kevin demanded. “I’ve literally known you longer than anyone else. We used to watch each other shit in toddler potties, Neil.” 

That was true. Still, Neil needed Matt, his not-childhood friend. 

“Dude,” Matt said. “Neil and I are bros. Somethings are just bro to bro. You talk to Andrew about shit you don’t talk to Neil about, yeah? Y’all are like brothers. That’s different from being bros.”

“None of that made sense,” Kevin muttered, packing up his shit. He glared at Neil. “I’ll be in the common room. You’re making up for this by editing my thesis.” 

“Looking forward to it,” Neil said dryly, ushering Kevin out the door and leaning against it, feeling a little breathless. 

Matt jumped onto his bed, patting the spot next to him. “Come hither, child.” 

“I hate it when you say that,” Neil complained, dutifully crossing the tiny room and curling up into a ball on the mattress next to him. Matt patted him on the shoulder gently, though it still managed to send shocks right to his fingers and toes. Matt was just a big guy. 

“What’s this all about?” Matt pushed, when Neil stayed in a curled ball. 

Neil’s head flopped back, thudding against the wall. He swallowed, staring at the ceiling. 

“I like Andrew.” 

“Well, that’s good news,” Matt laughed. 

“No, Matt.” Neil glared towards the window. “I think I’m in love with Andrew.” 

“Yes,” Matt said earnestly. “I know.” 

Neil’s neck nearly snapped what with how fast he looked at Matt. “What?”

His friend snorted. “Dude, you’ve always been infatuated with him. We’re best friends, Neil. You and Kevin are best friends. Do you really want to go cuddling up with either of us, like you do with Andrew? Do you spend hours with either of us at a time, just talking? Do you dream about us? Have you told us everything about you?”

“How do you know I’ve done those things with Andrew?” Neil accused, even though he was completely right. 

Matt shrugged. “That’s how I am with Dan.” 

“We’ve cuddled,” Neil said weakly. 

Matt slung his arm around Neil’s narrow shoulders. It was like wearing a blanket. “Hell yes, we have. But that’s not what I mean.” 

“We don’t do that.” 

“Head out of the gutter, bucko. Remember that photo Allison managed of the two of you? Asleep on the couch? You were literally asleep on Andrew’s chest: one of his legs was hooked over your hip. That’s some serious canoodling, bro.” 

“You’ve analysed us that intensely,” Neil said flatly. 

Matt snorted. “It’s kinda hard not to. You’re both all over each other. I’d say it’s sweet if it wasn’t, well, you and Andrew.”

“So if you knew I liked him,” Neil complained. “Why’d you dare me to kiss him? Now I’m aware of it, and I hate it!”

“That was kinda the point,” Matt admitted. “Why the hell do you hate it? Love is a good thing!” 

“Need I remind you of my parents?” 

Matt shoved him gently. “Don’t start pulling the parent card. Neil, you’ve loved Andrew for years. And - well, I can’t really read him, no one can - I think he likes you back.” 

“He does not,” Neil insisted. 

“He does!” Matt sung. “You know what you have to do now, Josten?”

“No,” Neil said, sullen. 

“You’ve gotta woo him.” 

“Here we go,” Neil mumbled. 

Matt winked. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you. Andrew will be head over heels for you in no time.”

*

“So,” Neil said, sitting on his bed. Andrew was reading a book, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He only wore them in their room, even though everyone knew Aaron had reading glasses and thus Andrew would have to wear them too. He had his armbands off and a pair of knitted socks on. Neil had become so keenly aware over everything that constituted of Andrew recently: it was driving him up the wall.  

Andrew looked at Neil from over his book. “What?” 

Neil shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you want to go somewhere?” 

Andrew glanced at his watch. “Now?” 

Neil shrugged again. 

“What’s this about?” Andrew asked, sitting up.

“Nothing!” Neil stressed. “Just thought it might be good to - get out?” 

“It’s a Tuesday evening,” Andrew said flatly.

Neil deflated. “We don’t have to go.” 

Andrew sighed. “Fine.” Neil perked up. “Where did you want to go?” 

Neil hadn’t thought that far ahead. “David’s?” 

“David’s,” Andrew repeated. “Neil, you don’t like diner food.” 

“Well, now I do!” He really needed to stop the hiccups in his voice. Stuffing his feet into his shoes, he yanked on his coat and shoved his keys and phone into his pocket. 

“Now I’m even more suspicious,” Andrew said, watching Neil’s erratic behaviour with mild amusement. “You’ve never willingly taken that phone with you unless I forcefully reminded you too.” 

He needed it to text Matt. “We all learn and grow,” he said breezily, escaping out the door. “Hurry up, I want coffee!” 

“It’s nearly fucking midnight,” Andrew growled. 

He skipped ahead till he arrived at the dorm’s parking lot: Andrew’s was in the corner, where it couldn’t be scratched. After his mother’s death he’d used his portion of her life insurance to buy the thing, but it hadn’t got him more than a heap of junk. He’d spent a whole summer fixing it up: Neil had watched him from the corner of his garage, a little mesmerised. 

Fuck, he liked Andrew so much. He could hardly contain it within himself. 

He switched the radio to Andrew’s favourite channel as they drove to David’s, an old diner on the corner of campus. It was run by a grouchy old man by the name of David Wymack, hence the name. He served the only pancakes Andrew would speak well of, and sometimes Neil could withstand the fruit smoothies. 

Andrew glanced over at Neil at the music choice - Neil almost always usually bickered with him about playing heavy rock when it got past 9 o’clock - but said nothing, continuing to drive. 

There was almost no one in David’s when they arrived, even though he usually shut at one. Neil was relieved for that: he didn’t feel like anyone watching him as he failed miserably at wooing Andrew Minyard.

Andrew got his pancakes and Neil decided to try the blueberry smoothie, sans ice cream. 

“What is wrong with you,” Andrew muttered. 

It clearly wasn’t going well. Neil grimaced and shrugged. “Dunno.” 

Andrew squinted at him. “Are you upset?”

“What? No!”

“Can you bozos stop wasting my time?” Wymack huffed. 

“Fuck you too, old man,” Andrew said. Wymack flipped him off and proceeded to put an extra scoop of ice-cream onto Andrew’s plate. Their relationship was baffling, especially after Andrew worked the summer here with Renee. 

They sat at a corner table, a little ceramic jug with plucked daisies plonked in the centre of the red-and-white chequered table cloth. 

“You seem jittery,” Andrew said. 

“I’m fine,” Neil managed. Andrew reached out with his hand under the table to stop Neil’s leg from bouncing. The heat from his palm was addictive. Neil made a strange squawking noise, and Andrew immediately withdrew his hand. 

“You’re fine,” Andrew repeated. 

“Yup,” Neil insisted. Andrew’s pancakes arrived, so Neil tried to distract himself from the ruffled blonde hair and pale eyelashes and the freckles on his nose, sipping at the smoothie. Neil didn’t know what to do with that information. It was quite unnerving. 

They were done by half-past-twelve, when Andrew decided to get up and leave without warning. Neil - in a moment’s panic - took one of the daisies from the jug and hopped up after him. 

Andrew was leaning against his car door, lighting up two cigarettes. Moonlight shone down, curling in his hair and curving across his jaw. Neil found himself a little star struck. 

Andrew offered up the second cigarette and Neil took it from between his fingers with his lips, like he usually did. This time all he could notice was how close it put them, and the shape of Andrew’s lips. Now Neil knew what they felt like, too. 

This is ridiculous, Neil thought. 

“Why are you holding a flower?” Andrew asked. 

Neil looked down to where the daisy rested in his palm. He brought it up and tucked it behind Andrew’s ear. The tips of Andrew’s ears went very pink: he had to be warm in that large sweater of his. 

“Don’t know,” Neil answered truthfully, looking at where the daisy drooped down over the shell of Andrew’s ear. 

“Okay,” Andrew managed, though his voice was a bit strained. What if he was allergic to daisies? No, that was ridiculous. Neil would know if he was allergic to daisies. 

They finished their cigarettes in the quiet. Everything was so muddled. Neil just wanted it to go back to normal. And yet: he wanted to kiss Andrew. 

Fucking hell, he thought. 

*

“Back to the drawing board,” Neil announced, bursting into Matt’s dorm room again. Kevin wasn’t there, thankfully. 

Matt arched his brow. “Huh?”

“Date and flowers didn’t work. What the hell do I do?”

His friend hummed. “What about gifts? Is there something you could give him that’s romantic?” 

“He likes chocolate?” Neil hedged.

“Could work,” Matt acknowledged. “Or, you know, we could make him jealous.”

“Absolutely not,” Neil grimaced. 

“Just a thought.” 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Neil groaned, sinking into a puddle on the floor. 

The door opened as Kevin stepped through. He didn’t even pause, stepping right over where Neil had melted onto the floor. 

“Don’t mind him,” Matt acknowledged. 

Neil made an exasperated noise. 

“Have you always been so dramatic?” Kevin acknowledged. 

“Maybe you could recite a monologue to him,” Matt suggested. 

Kevin frowned. “Who?” 

Before Neil could shush him, Matt sung out “Andrew!” with a cheerful smile. 

Kevin signed. “Fucking finally. Everyone’s been waiting years for the two of you to sort yourselves out.” 

“What?” Neil sat up. “Are you serious?” 

Kevin shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious.” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Neil groused. 

“He’s trying to woo Andrew into liking him back,” Matt informed Kevin. 

Kevin frowned. “Why don’t you just tell him that you like him?”

“Because that’s mortifying?” 

“You’re such a horribly adjusted human being,” Kevin muttered. 

“He’s kinda right,” Matt acknowledged. “I just kept asking Dan on dates till she accepted.”

“No,” Neil hoisted himself to his feet. “I’ll figure it out. It won’t have to come to that.” He glared at both of them. “Thanks for nothing. Neither of you know anything about relationships.” 

“We are both in committed, loving, long-term partnerships,” Kevin pointed out. 

“Love you too!” Matt called as Neil stomped out.

*

Neil eventually developed a checklist. 

Spontaneous midnight date? Nope. Flowers? Definitely a no. Making him a mixtape? Not the right decade. 

Accompanying him places definitely didn’t work: Neil was late to all his classes for a week. Cooking for two also didn’t work, seeing as the only thing Neil could cook was 2 Minute Noodles. 

Chocolates was a moderate success, but it probably didn’t help the wooing cause. It didn’t help that they roomed together: Neil didn’t get much time to scheme, because neither of them were social butterflies, and their dorm room was their safe space. 

The only thing he thought could’ve been counted a success was when they decided to rewatch the last two Harry Potter movies together: Andrew yanked Neil over to his bed and they nestled into the corner to watch the films from Andrew’s laptop. Neil was so consumed by the thought kiss him kiss him kiss him that he barely registered either of the films. 

One month passed since Neil’s epiphany, then one and a half: It even got too the point that Neil jostled Andrew’s shoulder at another of Allison’s ‘parties’ and said “Remember the last time she made us participate?” to which Neil only received an odd look and stale silence.

He also tried to rig one of Allison’s silly games, giving Andrew a piece of paper that asked do you like someone? Andrew set the thing on fire with his lighter, and the dormitory nearly had to be evacuated.

Neil was beginning to lose hope. 

“You upset, Neil?” Renee asked, dropping into the chair next to him. He was studying in the library, one of the few places he knew Andrew wouldn’t follow. 

“Hi, Renee,” Neil said, sullen. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She twisted herself around to face him. “What’s up?”

“Can’t talk to you about it,” Neil mumbled, resting his head on his folded arms and glaring at the table. 

“You know,” Renee said, slightly amused. “I overheard something about someone being interested in Andrew recently.”

Neil sat up. “You did? Who?” He’d fight them. Not that he was possessive, or jealous. 

Renee laughed. “You, silly.” 

Neil deflated. “Does everyone know? I feel like I was the last one to figure it out.”

Renee patted his shoulder gently. “Almost the last one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Andrew doesn’t know.”

“Good,” Neil huffed out. “That’d be embarrassing.”

Renee shook her head. 

“He’s never going to like me back,” Neil mumbled. “I’ve been trying so hard, but he won’t notice.”

“He did mention you were acting odd, recently,” Renee acknowledged. 

Neil huffed. “Yeah, well. There’s no point in keeping it up, is there? Not if nothing will happen.”

“You know,” she said. “I always found clarity in honesty.” With that, she winked and slid off her stool. “See you around, Neil.”

“Yeah,” Neil muttered. “See you.”

*

Neil dressed quickly in the shower stall and hooked his towel over his shoulder, carrying his small caddy back to his room. He was wearing old pyjamas: fire-engine truck flannels with one of Matt’s oversized (or normal sized, for him) hoodies that went all the way to his fingertips. He shook out his wet hair as he traversed from the bathroom back to his dorm room and shouldered his way in, the door unlocked. That meant Andrew was back. 

And back, Andrew was: facing the wall, he was tugging off a turtleneck sweater and yanking on a t-shirt that Neil recognised as his: he’d already changed into grey sweats that were too long for him, hanging around the ankles. 

Neil slowly put his soap back onto his little shelf, hanging his towel on a wall hook. Andrew glanced over his shoulder at him, acknowledging Neil’s presence, before going back to unpacking from his day and readying for bed. 

Neil felt sucker-punched. 

“Andrew?” 

He glanced back again, brows furrowing at Neil’s strange tone. “What?”

When Neil couldn’t answer, he dropped what he was doing and came closer. His fingers curled in Neil’s collar, tugging him closer. 

“You’re pale as shit,” he commented. “Are you going to collapse?”

“I’m already falling,” Neil joked weakly. 

“What?”

“What?”

Andrew stepped back. Dammit, Neil thought. “What the hell is going on, Neil? You’ve been acting fucking weird for ages, now.”

“I really like you,” Neil breathed out. 

Andrew froze. 

“I wasn’t meant to say that,” Neil bit out, folding his arms over his chest. “But I can’t get over it. Ever since we kissed I’ve been kinda losing my mind, and everyone’s told me I’ve liked you for years -” 

“Shut up,” Andrew said fiercely, stomping right up into Neil’s space, crowding him against the door.

“Um,” Neil mumbled, blinking. 

“You’re the worst,” Andrew hissed. “You’ve been doing all this shit because you like me? I thought you were working up to telling me you were leaving!”

“What?” Neil echoed. 

“Shut up,” Andrew complained. “You’re the fucking worst. I hate you.” 

And then he kissed him. Andrew kissed Neil, that is. It was definitely one of the best moments of Neil’s life, which wasn’t saying much, considering his track record. Still, Neil’s fingers spread out across Andrew’s shoulder blades as his hands grasped Neil’s jaw, kissing him for real, this time. 

Neil had been right: it was definitely better when there was no one else watching. 

Andrew’s shoulders were hunched over when he fell back, pressing his forehead to Neil’s shoulder. 

“You like me?” Neil asked, voice higher and breathier than he thought he could manage. “Since when?”

“I hate you,” Andrew retorted. Then, quieter, he said: “Since forever.” 

Neil’s hands pressed him closer: this wasn’t unfamiliar, the proximity, Andrew’s touch, breath wafting over bare skin. But the warmth encompassing it made sense now. 

“Okay,” he said. And then: “Me too.”

“Were you trying to woo me with 2 Minute Noodles?” Andrew inquired.

“No,” Neil said sheepishly. 

Andrew shook his head, tilting Neil’s head down for another kiss. Then he signed against Neil’s lips. “I hate you. So much.” 

Neil grinned.

*

HEEHEEE

[cloudysonder]

Home (Andrew Minyard/Neil Josten)

Summary: 

Neil had never known family. He knew the definition of it in four different languages and knew the word for it in twice as many. He never understood it, and probably never would.

But, looking out to what seemed like a sea of people in one room, looking into the eyes and the faces of people who would fight for him, people who he would fight for, and home, in the form of blonde hair and an uncaring stare that was a cocktail of both, he guessed that perhaps it would feel a little like this.

...

Set in the cabin vacation after Baltimore; drunk, honest, sorta sappy Neil (it's Neil) realizing that he's come home, and hoping, for the first time in his life, to stay.

Also: Drunk Neil is excellent at flirting, Andrew wants nothing, and they both give the Foxes heart attacks.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332473

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neil looked around the small table, crowded over by Foxes. He brushed his thumb over the shot Andrew had poured for him and stared out into what would've seemed like a sea of strangers, if not for the past year.

Now, he knew their names, their stories, their unwavering determination, and their inexplicable willingness to hold on to him, holding him tight with fierce words and fiercer glares at the things he'd been running away from all his life.

Neil had never known family. He'd known blood, sure, known his place as the Butcher's son, carried his father's name in his own, an unescapable shackle on him, and he'd needed to run, to get away, to change it, but not in the ways that mattered.

Blood was a curse, an inconsistent axing pendulum that'd he'd known since birth, and he'd run away from it all his life.

"It's dangerous." His mother's vicious snarl seeped into his bones whenever he stepped out of line, and they ran, always ran, because they hadn't had a choice, had they? But they stopped.

The smell of his mother's burning body on the beach still wrapped its tendrils around his head during the night, but if he had the control to smother his grief, he'd feel almost happy for her. She stopped. It was forced, sure, and Neil knew the tremor of force rushing through his legs a forced stop brought better than anyone. But she stopped.

Neil did too. He'd chosen it, over the terrified safety, over the lonely nights, over his mother's whispered memories.

"It's dangerous. "

Neil had the proof carved into his body. He curled his fingers around his shot, ignoring the sharp bursts of pain at the burns, and tilted his head back to let the alcohol fall down his throat. The burn in his throat distracted from his wounds, and he looked up at the Foxes again.

Matt, ever amiable, ever protective, had his arm around Dan, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he smiled, honest and relieved and so damn open that Neil felt the same relief bubble inside him. Dan was bared fangs and sturdy pillars of support, holding up a team that was like a raggedy old shack, all rotting planks and broken pieces that would've crumbled if not for her.

Renee and Allison were fierce stories wrapped in their own versions of redirection; Renee with her soft words and kind stare, and Allison with her perfect makeup and her flawless wardrobe. They'd both given Neil so much honesty it scared him.

Nicky downed shots like water, dancing to a nonexistent beat as the jokes and quips and cheerful smiles seemed to flow out of him, and Neil appreciated the mindless sunshine he always offered, even if he never laughed at his jokes. Aaron and Kevin stood to the side, a clump of exasperation and cynicism, even if Kevin was too drunk to roll his eyes properly.

Neil had been given their stories, even if they didn't offer them, and the two had never been especially good at transparency. But they'd fought for themselves alone for so long, and Neil would join their battle if it was ever offered to him.

The picture of happiness in garish orange and white colors in the nicest kitchen Neil had ever seen would've made him feel like a passing onlooker, the way he'd been for such a long time, if it wasn't for the way Andrew's intent stare fell on him.

A year ago, it'd look the same to Neil as his other stares. The Neil now had the memory of Andrew's lips on his, his steady hand on the back of his neck, his keys and a phone weighing his pockets down. The Neil now knew all of Andrew's expressions even when Andrew didn't, because somewhere along the line, Neil had stopped running because Andrew was home.  

Andrew quirked an eyebrow up at him, an almost imperceptible question. Neil pushed his shot glass towards him in response, and Andrew rolled his eyes before placing the bottle of whiskey in front of him.

“Staring,” Andrew mouthed to him, but no explicit complaint followed. Neil tried not to smile as he poured whiskey in his shot glass and knocked the swallow back.

Neil had never known family. He knew the definition of it in four different languages and knew the word for it in twice as many. He never understood it, and probably never would.

But, looking out to what seemed like a sea of people in one room, looking into the eyes and the faces of people who would fight for him, people who he would fight for, and home , in the form of blonde hair and an uncaring stare that was a cocktail of both, he guessed that perhaps it would feel a little like this.

The heat from the whiskey traveled from his throat and settled in a pleasant lump in his stomach, warmth pooling in his chest. The warm tears slipped out before Neil could process it, and he saw Andrew immediately stiffen, the familiar feeling of calloused fingers on the back of his neck before he could blink.

The rest of the team reacted in a ripple, Matt immediately noticing and concern spilling across his face before it reached his lips, and the girls noticing the shift in Matt’s expression before softening at Neil. Nicky silenced, and Kevin and Aaron watched from the sidelines, inscrutable. Andrew knelt down in front of him, and Neil watched their gaze flicker to Andrew in varying degrees of interest as they backed down.

Neil looked at Andrew, his expression deceptively blank as concern shaded his eyes. There were gears turning behind them, Neil knew, a list being formed of the people to hurt and the people to kill, coldness directed towards Neil’s enemies, never towards him, but always for him. He looked at Andrew’s hazel eyes, his pupil focusing on Neil with pinpoint precision, always looking at him, at Neil Josten, never Nathaniel Wesninski.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked from behind Andrew, his words tinged with worry. Neil nearly gave him the automatic “I’m fine,” but the words stuck to the roof of his mouth as he swallowed and tasted whiskey, physical proof of his decision for honesty, of the trust he’d been given and finally returned.

Neil felt the beaming smile spread on his face as he placed his hand on top of Andrew’s on the back of his neck. A wet laugh escaped him, and he recognized the sound as genuine happiness.

He watched the team freeze in surprise and looked at all of them as he spoke.

“I can’t believe I get to see you all again.” Neil felt the tears stutter on their way down over his smiling face. The alcohol had loosened his tongue, but it was still startling to hear the truth in the air.

He’d held his self-directed grief for his future inside him for months, and the relief was washing over him in waves. He watched his team soften in front of him, watched the same smile cross their faces as they looked at each other and cheered him. Nicky and Matt had started crying openly, while Renee and Dan blinked at misty eyes. Allison grinned while she poured Neil another shot, and Andrew got up but didn’t leave his side.

The next shots went down smoothly, as Neil leaned into the conversations around him, Exy-related or not. His mind was pleasantly fuzzy, his tongue loose and his expression looser, as he savored the hum of the alcohol, because he could, now that there was nothing he had to hide.

He’d zoned out of a particular conversation about the actors both Nicky and Eric agreed were on the “list,” and found himself observing Andrew again. He studied his broad shoulders, that Andrew had let Neil collapse on after Christmas at Evermore, his hands and calloused fingers that would rake through Neil’s hair, that would wrap around Neil’s body while the cigarette smoke on the roof swirled around them, the lips that tasted like smoke and ice-cream and chocolate, and Neil hated all three things but treasured the taste that he’d come to associate with Andrew.

Andrew, with the soft tufts of blonde hair that glowed in the sunlight, that Neil loved to thread his hands through. Andrew, with the hazel green eyes that shone green in the center and faded to caramel brown near the edges, the eyes that offered him his demons, and the black armband covered arms that accepted his.

“...pretty,” Neil breathed and watched Andrew’s eyes widen in surprise by a millimeter. He savored the way Andrew’s hands stilled over the shot he was pouring, and the way the confusion squinted his eyes. Neil smiled, and let his cheek rest against his hand. “You’re so pretty, Andrew.”

A hiccup followed, and Neil ignored it.

He was vaguely aware of Nicky, choking on a high-pitched squeal behind him, while Allison smirked, snickering at Dan and Matt as they both beamed.

“You’re drunk,” Andrew responded in German, and his cheek twitched in a way Neil had learned to interpret as amusement. Neil blinked slowly, as if comprehending his words, before he switched to German after him, and counted off his thoughts on his fingers.

“I like your eyes,” Neil started, and a wave of fondness rushed through him at the way Andrew rolled them. “And your arms. And your hair. And the way you play Exy.”

“Junkie,” Andrew interjected.

Neil felt a surge of something in his chest, a warm feeling that settled in his heart and helped weigh him down, and the dopiest smile spread itself across his face. There was an inexplicable urge to convey the feeling to Andrew, but the words were stuck in the warm syrup in his chest.

Three words. He’d heard them before, in the panicked whispers of his mother right before he passed out from the pain of her beatings. He’d remembered them in his bruised wrists, his bleeding wounds, in the shape of his mother’s back as she dragged him behind her, protecting him from everything but herself.

He didn’t want to put those same three words to Andrew, who stood behind him, instead of in front, who told him to stop running, who promised to protect him and pressed warm keys into his hands. He had offered him trust, he had given him a home. It was unique, this thing they had, and so, the words that fell out, almost naturally, were just so.

“I hate you,” Neil let the words escape and heard the way they were covered with the syrup in his chest and studied the way Andrew almost smirked, wanting to burn the image into his head.  

Nicky was translating his words to the upperclassmen in the background, while they murmured in bewildered excitement. Andrew flicked a cool gaze over them, non-threatening and observing, and they quieted out of habit.

“I want to touch your hair. Yes or no?” Neil made sure his words came out in a crisp and steady German, and Andrew’s responding nod got him out of his seat immediately, nearly tripping over the counter in his haste.

He buried his hands in Andrew’s silken blonde tufts and raked his fingers through the strands. Neil watched Andrew sigh, exasperated, and the surge of warmth engulfed him again, only encouraged by the whiskey in his veins.

Neil thought of Andrew, and the last game he’d seen him play; sweat glistening under the artificial light, slamming away every shot at goal the Bearcats made, focused gaze analyzing each player, perfectly matching them to memories of plays and strategies he’d watched weeks before. Neil remembered what he thought was his last look at Andrew, that he’d burned into his head, a panting, exhausted Andrew, beautiful even then, as he’d told him “Thank you,” and “You were amazing,” while imagining his kisses and his protection and his truths and Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.

“I can’t believe I get to look at you again,” Neil let the free token of honesty hang between them, and Andrew only stared at him blankly before replying.

“You already said that.”

“Not to you,” Neil countered, and let himself drink in Andrew’s hard edges that kept him grounded, and the glimpses of softness he’d catch in between.

“You’re staring,” Andrew repeated.

“You let me.”

“I don’t ‘let’ you do anything.” Andrew sighed, his tone deceptively blank. Neil took the sentence as the rare admission it was, the little peek of softness in his roughness. Giddiness pumped through his veins.

“You want nothing.” The smile on Neil’s face threatened to tear his face in two, pulling on his burns and cuts, but he couldn’t stop it. “You really do. You want nothing.”

Neil caught the start of a small smile on Andrew’s face, followed by a derisive snort and a glance towards the Foxes, who were staring at them intently, varying degrees of excited surprise in their expressions. Nicky, particularly, looked close to tears, as he continued rambling translations to a hyperfocused Allison, Dan and Matt, while Renee looked towards them fondly.

“Yes or no?” Andrew leaned in closer.

“Always yes.”

Andrew pressed a chaste kiss to Neil’s lips, and the familiarity of it did nothing to contain the ripples of heat that spread through his chest in response. When Andrew pulled away, Neil unconsciously followed him, leaning further in. Neil was acutely aware of the tinge of amusement in Andrew’s face, and the high-pitched squeal of a drunk Nicky behind him.

Andrew walked towards the door, whispering a quick “Bedroom,” in Neil’s ear before leaving.

Neil turned to the Foxes and began a clumsy “Uh, I think I need to, Andrew’s gonna, I might just--”

“Neil. You are fooling literally no one. It might just be the alcohol, but you’re smiling so wide I think your stitches are gonna pop. Shoo,” Allison waggled a perfectly manicured hand at him.

Dan and Nicky were snickering to each other beside her, and Matt looked so happy for him that Neil felt a prickle of embarrassment seep into his cheeks. He looked towards Kevin, who was being held upright by an annoyed Aaron.

“Um,” Neil started eloquently.

Aaron got the message, shifting under Kevin to hold him more easily. He huffed out a despairing sigh and looked straight at Neil. I’ll take care of Kevin, his expression said. Neil was shocked into stillness for a second before Aaron snapped out a frustrated “ Go, you dolt.”

Neil went.

Andrew was waiting for Neil on the bed, already tucked under the covers with a book in his lap. He flicked a bored gaze over Neil and made no move towards him. The picture was startlingly domestic, a shot from passing glances at family magazines in convenience stores Neil had ducked in and out of growing up.

That idealistic image of a two-person bed, of having someone safe to fall asleep next to and someone to wake up to, was in reach for him now, just two steps away from him, in the form of Andrew bathed in moonlight reading a book, his eyes greener in the blue light, his hair softer.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Andrew said, after a long moment. Neil didn’t know what he looked like. “We’re not doing anything today.”

Neil finally made the two steps, changing into the comfortable pajamas he found in the closet before slipping in the bed beside Andrew. He hummed in response.

“I don’t mind,” Neil replied, and he meant it. Andrew’s presence beside him in the too-soft bed wrapped him in a feeling of safety he thought he’d forgotten, and his body gave off a pleasant heat. He felt the sleepiness settle into his bones, aided by alcohol, and vaguely wondered if Andrew didn’t want to do anything because it wouldn’t be the best for his recovery to immediately return from a rough place to another, albeit much safer, one. He wondered if Dr. Dobson had told him that.

“Not Bee,” Andrew spoke from beside him, and Neil knew he must’ve been murmuring his thoughts out loud. “Tonight was my call.”

Neil burrowed deeper in the blankets beside him, relishing the warmth inside him, the warmth beside him, and pressed his lips to Andrew’s neck gently before pulling away. It was barely a second, but, for once, Neil didn’t feel Andrew stiffen beneath him, and the triumph in his chest made him huff out a small laugh. It was the thank you that Neil didn’t need to say, and he knew Andrew understood.

“Let’s go to the beach next time,” Neil murmured into the pillow, and he knew Andrew would catch all the meanings hidden behind it.

Stuart could very well fail in the negotiations, and the chance of Neil being killed by the Moriyamas was still very real. The if there is a next time went unsaid.

Neil had told Andrew about his mother’s cremation on the beach, had known that Andrew caught the way he stiffened whenever the place was mentioned, but he also knew that Dr. Dobson had suggested to all the Foxes to try to overwrite their bad memories with good ones, ones worth remembering. The threat of the Moriyamas was still palpable, but Neil had decided to stop running months ago, had decided to ditch his future for the present.

In the room, beside Andrew, Neil went one step further, and let himself imagine a future. He imagined falling asleep beside Andrew for the rest of his life and blinked slowly, watching the way his eyes raked quickly through the blocks of text in the book. He imagined nights of Andrew finishing books and starting new ones, of nights of snuggling into his warmth and his safety.

He let himself fall asleep, feeling home, and hoped, like he had never hoped for anything before, that he could keep it.

[youknow-igetit]

A playlist for our favorite mafia sports gays. songs and the meanings below the cut

1. sex - EDEN

‘Cause you said it meant nothing And I should’ve kept my silence But I guess I’m too attached to my own pride to let you know That all these words meant nothing And I’ve always been this heartless And we’re just having sex, no, I would never call it love But love Oh no, I think I’m catching feelings And I don’t know if this is empathy I feel

“This,” Neil flicked his finger to indicate the two of them, “isn’t worthless.” “There is no ‘this’. This is nothing.” “And I am nothing,” Neil prompted. When Andrew gestured confirmation, Neil said, “And as you’ve always said, you want nothing.” Andrew stared stone-faced back at him.

2. Be Kind (with Halsey) - Marshmello, Halsey

I know you need, I know you need The upper hand even when we aren’t fighting ‘Cause in the past, you had to prepare every time, yeah Don’t wanna leave, don’t wanna leave But if you’re gonna fight then do it for me I know you’re built to love, but broken now, so just try I know you’re chokin’ on your fears Already told you, I’m right here I will stay by your side every night I don’t know why you hide from the one And close your eyes to the one Mess up and lie to the one that you love When you know you can cry to the one Always confide in the one You can be kind to the one that you love

“No one’s said a word to them since they said we couldn’t see you.“ Nathaniel’s heart skipped a beat. The heat that gnawed at his chest was an ugly mix of gratitude and shame. He tried to speak but had to clear his throat before trying again. “But why? I’ve done nothing but lie to them. I willingly put them all in danger so I could play a little longer. They got hurt last night because of me. Why would they protect me now?” “You are a Fox,” Andrew said, like it was that simple, and maybe it was. Nathaniel dropped his eyes and worked his jaw, fighting for a center he was quickly losing hold of.

3. I Think I’m OKAY (with YUNGBLUD & Travis Barker) - Machine Gun Kelly

I guess it’s just my life and I can take it if I wanna But I cannot hide in hills of California Because these hills have eyes, and I got paranoia I hurt myself sometimes, is that too scary for you? Watch me, take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night Catch me, I’m the one on the run away from the headlights No sleep, up all week wasting time with people I don’t like I think that something’s fucking wrong with me

“Trust you.” Andrew enunciated each word like he’d never heard them before. He laughed curled his fingers tight around Neil’s chin. “You lie, and lie, and lie, and you think I’ll trust you with his life?” “Then don’t trust ‘Neil’,” Neil said. “Trust me.” “Oh, but who are you? Do you have a name?” “If you need one, call me Abram.” “Should I believe that?” “I’m named after my father,” Neil said. “Abram is my middle name; it’s the name my mother used when she was trying to protect me from his work.” It was the name he went by at his little league practices so the coach would actually let him play. It was strange hearing it aloud when no one had called Neil “Abram” in eight years. “Ask Kevin if you don’t believe me. He would know.” “Maybe I will.” Neil waited, but Andrew didn’t let go. With so many people watching them Neil couldn’t lift his shirt. He did the next best thing and dragged one of Andrew’s hands under the hem. He pressed Andrew’s palm to the ugly scarring across his abdomen. Andrew’s eyes dropped to Neil’s shirt like he could see Neil’s marred skin through the dark cotton. “Do you understand?” Neil asked. “Nothing Riko does will make me leave him. We will both be here when you get back.” Andrew’s fingers twitched against Neil’s skin. “Someone lied to me. These ouches feel a little rough for a child on the run.”

4. Lover of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer

Lead to where your secrets are Where we’ve been a thousand times Swallow every single lie Take all of me

When I take a look at my life And all of my crimes You’re the only thing that I think I got I right I’ll never give you away

“It’s always been ‘go’,” Neil said. He turned his hand palm-up and traced a key into his skin with his fingertip. He’d toyed with Andrew’s house key so many times he knew every dip and ridge by heart. “It’s always been ‘lie’ and ‘hide’ and ‘disappear’. I’ve never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. But Coach gave me keys to the court, and you told me to stay. You gave me a key and called it home.” Neil clenched his hand, imagining the bite of metal against his palm, and lifted his gaze to Andrew’s face. “I haven’t had a home since my parents died.”

5. Vowels (and the Importance of Being Me) - HUNNY

I was a queen last night I said “Take to the water” And let you drink my lies Like, “Okay, you’re right” You can’t spell pain or kiss Or run away or little mistake Without me, or A, E, I, O, U

“I’ll always have and be nothing.“ Andrew reached up and forcibly uncurled Neil’s fingers from his mouth. He pushed Neil’s hand out of the way and stared Neil down with nothing between them. Neil didn’t understand the look on his face. There was no censure over Neil’s crooked parents or pity for their deaths, no triumph over having backed Neil into admitting so much, and no obvious skepticism for such an outlandish story. Whatever this look was, it was dark and intense enough to swallow Neil whole.

6. BLUE - Troye Sivan

I can’t say no Though the lights are on There’s nobody home Swore I’d never lose control Then I fell in love with a heart that beats so slow I want you I’ll color me blue Anything it takes to make you stay Only seeing myself When I’m looking up at you

Nathaniel watched until the hotel disappeared out the window, then looked to Andrew and asked in German, “Can I really be Neil again?” “I told Neil to stay,” Andrew said. “Leave Nathaniel buried in Baltimore with his father.” Nathaniel looked out the window again and wondered if that was possible. He knew in a sense he could never really leave Nathaniel behind. Even if Stuart could talk the Moriyamas down, they’d all know Nathan’s child was alive and kicking. Nathaniel would always be a security risk to them. But the thought was thrilling and chilling in turns, and Nathaniel turned his hand over to consider his palm. He traced Andrew’s key into his skin with a bandaged finger. “Neil Abram Josten,” Neil murmured, and it felt like waking up from a bad dream.

7. Some Kind of Disaster - All Time Low

I wore the crown, I sold the lie I lived the life and paid for every crime, yeah It’s all downhill 'til it’s a climb Through blood and tears, but I don’t mind I’ll just keep singing on and on and on And it’s all my fault that I’m still the one you want 'Cause I’m a liar, I’m a cynic I’m a sinner, I’m a saint I’m a loser, I’m a critic I’m the ghost of my mistakes And it’s all my fault that I’m still the one you want So what are you after? Some kind of disaster

Andrew pressed two fingers to the underside of Nathaniel’s chin to turn his head. Nathaniel let himself be guided and said nothing while Andrew looked his fill. When Andrew dropped his hand and clenched it in Nathaniel’s hoodie, Nathaniel risked looking back at him. There was violence in Andrew’s eyes, but at least he hadn’t shoved Nathaniel away yet. That had to count for something. "I’m sorry,” Nathaniel said. Andrew’s fist went back, but he didn’t take the swing. Nathaniel knew it wasn’t because that was the hand cuffed to Wymack; Andrew’s arm actually shook with the effort it took to not knock Nathaniel’s head off his neck. Nathaniel said nothing to tip the balance either way. At length Andrew uncurled his fingers and let his hand hang limp from the cuff. “Say it again and I will kill you,” he said.

8. The Space Between A Rock and a Hard Place - 5 Seconds of Summer

Faded, I’m wrapped in your arms While you’re waiting to tear me apart With a last kiss, you leave me wanting more You, you’re a catch 22 Win or lose, I’m screwed I’m trapped under your spell It saves me, breaks me 'til I fall back to you You’re a catch 22

“You are a Fox. You are always going to be nothing.” Andrew stubbed his cigarette out. “I hate you.” “Nine percent of the time you don’t.” “Nine percent of the time I don’t want to kill you. I always hate you.” “Every time you say that I believe you a little less.” “No one asked you.” With that, Andrew caught Neil’s face in his hands and leaned in. Nicky’s drugged assault aside, Neil hadn’t kissed anyone in four years. The last girl was a scrawny French-Canadian who’d held him with just her fingertips and kissed like she was afraid of smudging her tacky-bright lipstick. Neil couldn’t remember her name or face anymore. He remembered only how unsatisfying the illicit encounter had been and how furious his mother was when she found them. That awkward peck wasn’t worth the punishment that had followed. This was nothing like that. Andrew kissed him like this was a fight with their lives on the line, like his world stopped and started with Neil’s mouth. Neil’s heart stuttered to a stop at the first hard press of lips against his and he reached up without thinking. His hand made it as far as Andrew’s jaw before he remembered Andrew didn’t like to be touched. Neil caught hold of Andrew’s coat sleeve instead and knotted his fingers in the heavy wool. The touch was a trigger. Andrew leaned back just enough to say, “Tell me no.” Neil’s lips were sore; his skin was buzzing. He felt winded, like he’d survived a half-marathon. He felt strong, like he could run another five more. Panic threatened to tear his stomach to shreds. Common sense said to refuse this and retreat before they both did something they’d regret. But Renee said Andrew regretted nothing, and Neil wouldn’t live long enough for it to matter. He hadn’t figured out which way to lean before Andrew pried Neil’s hand off his coat.

9. Medication - YUNGBLUD

You cannot pretend there’s no dirt on your shirt 'Cause that’s not how it works, that’s not how it works You try to perceive that you’re so squeaky clean But that’s not how it works, that’s not that’s not how it works

“I’m not going to apologize for thinking you’re being idiotic.” “Is your spine the spine of the righteous?” Andrew wondered. “Are you trying your best to step on my toes because you’re feeling the tragic weight of the holier than thou?”

10. Take Yourself Home - Troye Sivan

Talk to me There’s nothing that can’t be fixed with some honesty And how it got this dark is just beyond to me If anyone can hear me switch the lights I’m tired of the city Scream if you’re with me If I’m gonna die, let’s die somewhere pretty

“Don’t dismiss me for lying to you then ignore me when I tell the truth.” “This is not truth,” Andrew said. “Truth is irrefutable and untainted by bias. Sunrise, Abram, death: these are truths. You cannot judge a problem with your obsession goggles on and call it truth. You aren’t fooling either of us.”

11. Trouble Is - All Time Low

All that I know is I just can’t say no to you Funny how things never change All that I wanted was just to get over you Trouble is I can’t find a way You’re part of me

Andrew bit the question into the corner of Neil’s jaw. “Yes or no?” “It’s always yes with you,” Neil said. “Except when it’s no,” Andrew said. Neil put a plastic-wrapped finger to Andrew’s chin, guiding his head up for another kiss. “If you have to keep asking because—I’ll answer it as many times as you ask. But this is always going to be yes.” “Don’t ‘always’ me.” “Don’t ask for the truth if you’re just going to dilute it.”

12. Safety Pin - 5 Seconds of Summer

No more waiting, we can save us from falling This time, maybe this time We’ll safety-pin the pieces of our broken hearts back together Patching up all the holes until we both feel much better Deleted things, I really meant So now I’ll say the things I never sent

Neil remembered too well what it was like to say goodbye. He remembered what it was like saying hello again. A hint of Friday’s panic and outrage flickered in his chest, hot enough to burn the air from his lungs. He didn’t know what this thing between them was anymore. He didn’t know what he wanted or needed it to be. He just knew he had to hold on for as long as he could. “You are a mess,” Andrew said against Neil’s lips. “What else is new?”

13. My My My! - Troye Sivan

Spark up, buzz cut I’ve got my tongue between your teeth Go slow, no, no, go fast You like it just as much as me Now, let’s stop running from love Running from love Let’s stop, my baby Let’s stop running from us Running from us Let’s stop, my baby Oh my, my, my! I die every night with you Oh my, my, my! Living for your every move

Time was nothing. Seconds were days, were years, were the breaths that caught between their mouths and the bite of Neil’s fingernails against his palms, the scrape of teeth against his lower lip and the warm slide of a tongue against his. He could feel Andrew’s heartbeat thrumming against his wrists, a staccato rhythm that echoed in Neil’s veins. How a man who viewed the world with such studied disconnect could kiss like this, Neil didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to complain. Neil had forgotten what it was like to be touched without malicious intent. He’d forgotten what body heat felt like. Everything about Andrew was hot, from the hands holding him down to the mouth steadily taking Neil apart. Neil finally understood why his mother thought this was so dangerous. This was distraction and indiscretion, avoidance and denial. It was letting his guard down, letting someone in, and taking comfort in something he shouldn’t have and couldn’t keep. Right now, Neil needed it too much to care.

[100storiesin2020]

Chapter 9: Fallout of nightmares

Chapter titles are hard to come up with sometimes. Come read on AO3!

**********

Ronan hated the feeling of being frozen. He hated laying there in fear, watching the night horror moving for his throat. He struggled to fight, to defend himself, to not be helpless - but it was in vain. This may be the end for him, today. One bad dream where the old guilt resurfaced, bringing the night horrors in waves. Here, off the leyline, more drunk than he really ought to be, it was harder to control what he brought back with him.

The night horror dragged a claw down his face.

Suddenly, Sargent sprang to life beside him. He'd forgotten she was there. He'd griped about having her in the bed with him but in that moment he could have kissed her, girl or not. She kicked with both feet, knocking the thing off the bed. With a cry she jumped after it and drove a knife into its chest, kicking it in the gut for good measure. It collapsed. She approached it, raising the knife one more time, The door opened to reveal the two shady boys. Ronan didn't trust a single person from this whole fucking team, but these two were the worst. Sargent drove her knife into the eye of the beast, but Ronan couldn't relax with the midget's eyes on him.

He knew this could end in only a few ways, and he wasn't happy about any of them.

**********

Renee was just about to go back to sleep when her phone started to ring. She'd been awake for several hours in the night, bad memories stealing away her precious sleep, but she'd been listening to Allison breathing beside her and it had brought some calm back to her soul. Of course she would be getting a phone call now, and from Andrew no less. She gently reached past Allison and hit the silence button before her Andrew-specific heavy metal ringtone could wake her up. "Hello, Andrew. It's early."

"I need to talk to Natalie."

Shit. Renee eased out of the bed and went into the kitchen. "What happened."

"Where in Columbia would you hide a body?"

Natalie hummed. "Lake Murray, probably. It's got 500 miles of coastline so there's bound to be a few nooks and crannies that could work."

Andrew hummed. "How do we get blood out of the carpet?"

"Andrew, did you kill someone?"

"Nicky had it coming," he deadpanned. "Actually, Sargent here produced the body."

"Who was it?"

"You'll have to ask her yourself. How do we get blood out of the carpet?"

Renee sighed. "Okay, he'es where you start..."

**********

Blue tried to wipe up the blood as best as she could while Andrew talked on the phone. He seemed to be doing a lot of listening. She wasn't sure who this Natalie was, but hopefully she'd be able to help them out. And keep her mouth shut.

Neil had, surprisingly, been fairly useless. "What do you mean, you don't know how to dispose of a body? Wasn't your father a serial killer?"

"That was Lola's job - his favorite," he explained. "I was too young to help out with cleanup before we were on the run. Plus, I think she preferred acid. Where would we even buy that?"

Ronan wasn't helpful either. "Either I bury them in the field or I make Declan deal with it," he snarled. "I never fucking leave home, maggot. How should I have expected this?"

Andrew stomped back at that moment, having hung up the phone without a word. "You two have a lot of explaining to do. But first, we're taking this thing to Lake Murray."

Neil nodded. "And the others?"

Blue shuddered before Ronan spat, "Nobody else gets to know. It's bad enough with you two." Blue nodded in fierce agreement.

She watched as Andrew and Neil looked at each other for a minute, silently conversing, before Andrew sighed. "Nicky can drive the others home."

"I'll tell him Ronan barfed in his room and that we will clean it up before coming home." When Ronan spluttered, he added, "It's the only way I can think of to keep him out of the room long enough. Got a better idea?"

"We could throw him in the lake, too," Ronan muttered, drawing a laugh from Neil and a minute twitch of the lips from Andrew.

"Tempting," was all Andrew said before he turned and left the room. Blue noticed that Neil was watching him go.

Neil produced a long knife and started grinning in a very unsettling way. "This thing will be easier to move in smaller pieces," he said. "You two go clean up." Blue and Ronan left him there, knife spinning, a serial-killer grin splitting his face.

They headed to the bathroom. Blue shoved Ronan in first, then locked the door behind them. "Why the absolute fuck did you invite yourself?" she demanded. "I had this in hand. All I had to do was answer a few questions and not be suspicious and now here we are, night horror dead in the other room and suspicious as fuck."

Ronan glared at her. "I don't fucking trust them," he growled. "Matt told me some things about what they've done in Columbia. They drug people. Matt was an addict. They sent him into relapse and you were stupid enough to go with them? By yourself?"

Blue softened. "I don't trust them, but I didn't know those things. Thanks for looking out for me." She gave him a quick hug.

"Get off me maggot." He pushed her away. "Go get me some clothes, now I have to wash your foul stench off of me." She laughed and ducked out of the room in search of their stuff.

**********

Ronan finally started to relax as they drove to this Lake Murray place. They were following the GPS on the phone he'd dreamed up for Blue on her last birthday, as none of them had actually been there before. He always felt powerful behind the wheel of a car. The speed, the control, the impending danger: they were soothing.

He looked over at Sargent, curled up in the front seat next to him. She was shaking. He groaned a bit; she had seen worse than this. He turned on his music and "SQUASH ONE, SQUASH TWO" started to ring through the car. She groaned and reached for the power button just as they both heard a "the fuck is this?" from the backseat. Ronan batted away her hand with a grin and turned the song up even louder. He knew it was only a matter of time before he had to spill his secrets, so he may as well start getting his revenge proactively.

**********

Blue hated this.

They were standing in the sand at the edge of the lake, crowds swirling around them. The lake was a popular place on Saturday in late June, which meant that they looked like just another group of college students with their backpacks. Never mind that their backpacks contained pieces of night horror.

Neil stared out toward the center of the lake, eyes almost unseeing, breathing hard. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tried to light one, but his hands were shaking too hard. Andrew reached out and put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down slightly. "You are Neil Josten," he said softly. "You are a Fox. She is dead."

"I am a Fox," Neil replied, leaning into Andrew. Blue looked away, terribly lonely for Gansey in that moment. It was too much. She was already falling apart, already on edge from killing a living creature - even a night horror - and the fear and adrenaline of possibly losing one of her Raven boys again, and then, seeing Andrew and Neil together in that moment, she wished she had Gansey beside her.

Ronan elbowed her. "No time for tears, maggot. We've got a body to dump." Blue wiped her eyes as best as she could and took a few deep breaths. It would have to do. Once all of them were composed, they started to walk down the beach. Soon enough they came on a dock with a boat rental booth. After talking to the owner, they learned that they could, in fact, rent a speedboat for a few hours, but they needed to be at least 23 to do it.

"That's alright," Ronan said, slapping an ID down on the counter. "As you can see here, I am 25." The cashier raised an eyebrow and clearly didn't believe it, but shrugged and pulled out the paperwork. Soon they were throwing their bags into a slightly beat up speedboat.

"So why do you have a fake ID that says you're 25?" Blue asked.

"One of Kavinsky's pranks."

They hopped in the boat and Blue drove it out. She definitely didn't trust any of these boys to drive, and with how often she had watched Orla do it she felt fairly confident. They poked around a few inlets for an hour before they decided to just dump them into a distant, quiet part of the lake. Dream objects were heavy. The night horror would sink.

Andrew finally dropped the question as they headed back to the docks. "So what was that thing?" Rather than respond, Blue hit the gas, speeding up until it was much too loud and bumpy to hold any kind of conversation. Ronan laughed and tried to fist bump her, but they hit a wave and he cursed as he reached for the nearest handhold. Blue laughed. Andrew was glaring at her and Neil was looking kind of green, but Ronan looked the happiest he'd been all day, wind in his face.

Eventually they got back to the dock and returned the keys to the boat. They climbed back into the car and Ronan paused for a moment.

"That was a night horror. I pulled it from my dreams."

There was a long silence in the backseat. "So magic is real, then?" Neil asked.

"Yes," Blue replied, "but not like, wizard magic. Psychics, tarot cards, leylines, those sort of things. Those are real magic."

"And dreams."

"And dreams, yes."

"Are the dreams always this dangerous?" Andrew asked.

Ronan growled under his breath. Blue forestalled the venom she knew he'd spit out. "Night horrors, like those things, are rare these days. Usually he brings cool things back. Magic things. Things that shouldn't work, but do."

"And the occasional annoying bird," Ronan said almost fondly. He'd left Chainsaw at the house, not trusting her to not attack Andrew and Neil in the backseat.

Andrew seemed satisfied, but Neil continued to ask questions as Ronan started the car and headed back to the house. "Are any of the rest of you magic?"

Ronan laughed wickedly. "I'm the only living dreamer I know."

"That wasn't my question." Shit, he's clever, Blue thought.

At that moment all four of their phones went off simultaneously. Ronan never answered his phone, Blue didn't recognize the number, and Neil only laughed when he saw who was calling him, so it was Andrew who answered. He listened for a few seconds, gave a terse "they're alive," and hung up before turning his phone off. Blue's phone started to ring again.

"It's probably someone from the team," Neil said. "Renee called Andrew and Matt tried to call me. You should probably answer. Five bucks that they ask if we tried to murder you."

"I'll take you on that," Blue replied. "Hello?"

"Oh, thank god," Dan said. "Are y'all alright? They didn't kidnap you or anything?"

Blue laughed. "We kidnapped them, actually." Neil laughed.

"Where are you guys? The other monsters got home ages ago."

"Don't call them monsters," Blue snapped.

"But-"

"Don't." Neil gave her an appreciative nod.

Dan sighed. "Fine. Where are you guys at?"

"Almost back to their house. We need to grab our stuff and then we will be right back. Should be about an hour and a half, right?" she directed to the backseat.

"Around that, yes," Neil replied.

"Then we will expect you around then." Blue hung up the phone.

"Speaking of teammates," Blue said, "was anyone going to inform me that Columbia with y'all had potential to be hazardous to my health?

Neil snorted. "You two are the most dangerous thing that's ever happened on a trip to Eden's," he said with a grin.

Ronan cackled. "Damn straight."

[aelysalthea]

The Secret Lives of Neil Josten

Chapter 10: Andrew In Transit

Smoking was forbidden on the court. Supposedly.

As Andrew plucked the shortening stub from his lips, he could almost hear Wymack's long-suffering reprimand and see Dan's disappointment that so often involved a scowl and a sharp word. He could almost feel Kevin's radiating fury that bubbled and boiled until it spilled over the edge into a grumbling, "Have a little respect, would you?"

"For?" Andrew would always ask.

"For the court." At Andrew's usual lack of agreement and compliance, the muttered, "then at least for your lungs. You'll walk yourself into an early grave that way," always followed.

Andrew didn't know about that. He couldn't say that he cared all that much, although 'much' was slightly more than it had been in years gone by. Maybe. Possibly. Not much, and certainly not enough to inspire action, but yes. More. Regarding the burning cigarette between his fingers, the pale wisps coiling in artful tendrils before dissipating into nothingness, Andrew supposed he could admit that the suggestion was just a little more convincing than it had once been.

Stubbing the glowing end onto the goal post, Andrew tucked the remaining half of the cigarette into his pocket and released a final breath of smoke. Tipping his head back, he raised his gaze to the open ceiling, to the blackness stretching beyond the glowing radiance of the court. Barely more than a handful of the court's lights were on, but it was enough to swallow any hint of the stars that struggled to escape the night sky.

It was quiet. Resoundingly quiet in the stadium that was only ever thick with clamouring fans and wailing bodies or drained of any but the handful of a team that made up the Foxes, all intent and focused, training beneath the heavy gaze of their coach and captain. Or vice captain these days as Dan had begun to take a step back more and more deliberately. The season hadn't yet concluded, the Fox's games still a recurrent, manic smear upon a cluttered week, and Dan maintained her grounded stance at their head on each and every game night, but otherwise? Where it counted a little less?

Closing his eyes briefly, Andrew almost snorted aloud at the direction his thoughts had drifted. Not only to Neil – such a thing happened so often these days that he didn't even pretend to deny it to himself – but to exy. To the game. What had been and often still was a burden and leech upon his time and energy had dug in its roots and pervaded his system. Whether against his will or otherwise, Andrew hadn't a hope of stopping the progression anymore. To kill it and extract it would be to take out too much of his own flesh.

Andrew was stuck with it. For better or worse, he was infected. The symptoms of that infection were the only reason he could conjure as to what could possibly have urged him to seek the court that night.

For once, Kevin was preoccupied. It was a blue moon rarity that had him distracted on a week night, consumed with whatever else chewed through his time and forbade him from racing with obsessed footsteps from Fox Tower. Without Kevin the rest of the Foxes that attended in sporadic bursts of commitment took their leave. It was as though his temporary laxness afforded permission.

So why had Andrew come?

He didn't practice. If anyone asked, he'd blame his immobility on hatred of the sport, or his supposedly failing lungs, or the lack of Kevin's obsession cracking a whip in the air with such frustrating regularity that it was simply easier to abide his wishes half of the time. But it wasn't any of that. Not really. If anyone asked, Andrew wouldn't be able to tell them, just as he couldn't explain what had brought him there in the first place. It was why he spent hours – had it been hours? – seated in the square boundaries of the goalpost lost in thought and only shaken from those thoughts when the ash of his cigarette dropped a searing sprinkle of onto his skin.

Lowering his gaze from the empty sky, Andrew rubbed absently at lingering prickle of the burn. It barely hurt, and the sting had long since faded. What remained instead was the dust of ash scattered around him in a coating thin enough that none but another goalie would notice the mess. With a half-hearted swipe of his hand, Andrew scattered the specks, smearing them across the floor into thinner streaks, before hauling himself to his feet.

He should probably return. There was no obligation to, but yes, he should return – to the Tower, to his family, to his bed. No obligation from anyone but himself, and it was that which had Andrew turning towards the court door and starting a slow, wandering exit. He idly pulled his phone from his pocket and was faintly surprised when the glowing screen indicated the time inching towards pre-dawn.

Not that it really mattered. Andrew's hours lost in thought had been as restful as sleep was most nights. What was of greater relevance was that Neil had accompanied him and, being the person he was, Neil wouldn't have left had it killed him to tay.

It didn't surprise Andrew when he saw him in the stands. It didn't surprise him that he would decide to stay, that he would even if had Andrew only denied the necessity of his presence. Andrew had become almost used to it, and that acceptance was more curious than any other consideration on the matter. Or it was until, pausing in the doorway and raising his gaze to scan the rows of orange, Andrew caught sight of where Neil sat.

Or lay, as was more accurate. Wedged. Curled, even, because there was no way that a fully-grown man could do anything otherwise in the stadium seats. At the front row, the coach and players row positioned directly behind the court door, Neil was folded upon himself in a position that couldn't have been comfortable even had he been packed in with bubble wrap. A leg was hooked over the metal arm of the seat, the other thrust underneath it and twisted to dangle off the edge at an angle uncomfortable to even look at. His arms were just as contorted, woven into a nest around his head and neck where he's pillowed himself on one arm, his back hunched and tucked in upon himself. It took Andrew a moment to realise that his own jacket had been appropriated as feeble padding for Neil's head, but even that slight allowance wouldn't have made him comfortable. Not in the least.

Yet he was asleep. Fast asleep and bearing the kind of smooth abandon in his expression that bespoke a long-term commitment to his state of unconsciousness.

Easing the heavy door closed behind him, Andrew paused at the end of Neil's row. He regarded him, contemplated, and raised a foot to nudge Neil awake. Only to pause again with his shoe barely an inch or two off the ground. Considering, he eyed Neil in his twisted sleep and slowly lowered his foot once more.

Neil could sleep anywhere; that much Andrew had discovered on multiple occasions. The library, sprawled across a table. The poor excuse for a couch that the girls kept despite it feeling as rock hard as a church pew. The locker room bench for a brief cat nap, the back of a classroom despite the chatter, an aeroplane with the engine blaring and the threat of hundreds of miles beneath them. Andrew's bed too, as Andrew found himself sharing more often than not to only rare a complaint. Any and all would find Neil taking the opportunity should it present itself, and each instance would be a quick descent into sleep and an equally fast return with the snap of a pair of fingers.

Andrew understood that. The jerk of wakefulness, the ability – no, the need to be aware even during sleep and to alert himself to anything and everything of threat or importance in an instant. The ability to override weariness and the blessing of mindless oblivion was a lifesaver. Whether it was the muffled tread of an unshod foot outside his door or the murmured askance of a cousin, a brother, from a hand's breadth away, Andrew would and could awaken when he needed to. Nothing, not even desperate exhaustion, would override such instinctive necessity.

Neil was the same. He would take any opportunity to sleep, and at the whisper of his name would wake him. Too aware, Andrew would call him, if he didn't relate so completely. Too aware by half.

As such, it was always something of a fascination to Andrew when he caught him in the brief moments of uninterrupted stasis. It was in those few moments, seconds or minutes of even hours where it wasn't a deliberate choice but happenstance, that Neil lowered the guards placed upon his expression. That the reigning in of his tongue, kept on a leash only with reluctance, was loose and unresisting and his jaw slackened. Fascinating… and enough that Andrew's disgruntlement at lingering even later at the court than they already were was effectively vanquished.

Reaching a hand towards Neil, he couldn't catch himself before his fingers caught in the curl on Neil's forehead, flicking it aside. His clasp lingered for a moment, just a moment coiled in hair as a flicker of a frown crossed Neil's brow, before he let it go. As he did, Neil twitched slightly, his chin tucking slightly as he hunched further upon himself.

Andrew shoved his wayward hand into his pocket before it could undermine him again, but he didn't depart the scene. He didn't turn on his heel and stalk towards the locker room, cursing himself for taking an opportunity that presented itself. Stepping silently up the stairs, he dropped into the row above Neil's and into a slouch. For a moment, shifting and adjusting to get comfortable, Andrew gazed upon Neil in his awkward recline, the curl of his eyelashes and the faint downturn of his lips, before his eyes drifted briefly back to the court.

The wide, empty court. The goals that were his. There was Renee too of course, but they were his. And for the moment, no one else would touch them. Not even with their eyes.

Gaze shifting back to Neil as he shifted, rolling slightly in Andrew's direction as though he felt his presence, Andrew snorted. He wasn't sure if his self-deprecation was for his attention to Neil, to the court, or because of the faint yet noticeable twinge in his chest that he couldn't quite pinpoint the nature of. Maybe it was for all three.

With a shake of his head, Andrew closed his eyes. It was uncomfortable in the seat, so uncomfortable that he doubted he'd be able to sleep himself, but it wasn't worth moving. Not worth waking Neil or leaving the court. For the moment, Andrew would be content.

***

When Neil woke, it was to the protestation of a twinge in his neck and an accompanying grumble of his back as he rolled over. Further aches followed, and as Neil retrieved his legs from where they were stretched, shuffling upright and propping his arms behind him, he scratched his memories for the where and the why. Somewhere uncomfortable, certainly. Uncomfortable, and definitely not a bed. Neil had slept on too many not-beds to be unable to recognise the rude awakening in an instant.

Blinking, squinting, he peered up at the sky overhead. The unfiltered sky, with a grey dawn shining feeble luminescence upon him. Raising a hand to his neck, he glanced around himself and felt a moment of surprise when he took in the courts.

The empty courts. The stretch of alternating orange and white seats. The plexiglass, dull in the grey morning light, the court matte rather than shiny, and the door firmly shut just as Wymack had left it the previous evening when they'd finished practice. Just as Andrew had left it when he'd descended to the court alone, tugging it closed behind him to slouch towards the goals as though he weren't stepping along the well-worn path of his own volition for the first time.

A part of Neil still couldn't believe Andrew had done it. He'd known he would eventually because even Andrew couldn't resist the inevitable, but a part of him had been sceptical. A larger part than he'd anticipated, evidently. Hands dropping into his lap, Neil glanced around himself in search. He wouldn't have been surprised had Andrew left him behind when he'd finished whatever he'd been doing, just as he wouldn't have been surprised to be kicked awake by a silent, tired foot attached to a silent, tired body that complained of a need to leave the court behind them.

A glance behind him found neither of those eventualities.

Andrew was seated in the row directly above Neil's. Seated upright only, that was, and slouched with discomfort in every line of his body. Even his face bore a disgruntled frown; not angry but clearly dissatisfied, as if even his unconscious body wanted the world to know just how disappointed it was in its lack of accommodation for his sleeping arrangement. His arms were folded across his chest, his chin tucked, and his legs kicked before his and crossed at the heels, stretched towards but not quite touching the back of Neil's chair.

It was enough to almost make Neil smile. Not because of Andrew's obvious discomfort but because he was there at all. Sometimes Neil still didn't expect it.

Slinging an arm across the back of his chair, his chin resting on top of it, Neil folded his knees on the hard plastic seat beneath him. Regarding up at Andrew, he allowed himself to simply stare for a time. Stare for a long time, even. With morning light filtering through the open ceiling, grey dawn fading to be replaced by a warm glow, Andrew's hair was cast into a faintly glowing crown atop his head. The shadows were accentuated in the lines of his face, the finer hairs of his eyebrows made nearly invisible, and the incessant downturned tug of his lips softened just slightly.

Morning was infamous for being unforgiving of the previous night's secrets, but sometimes Neil didn't mind it all that much.

How long he sat in still, silent watch Neil didn't know. How long he would have continued to sit was just as unknown; there was nowhere Neil needed to be, nothing that would necessitate Andrew's awakening, and he had no particular desire to leave the stadium. His seat wasn't the most comfortable he'd ever sat in but it was far from being the worst. He'd slept on little more than cement floor and a jacket folded into a pillow before, had spent nights so uncomfortable that he couldn't sleep at all. A plastic chair and cold metal arms inhibiting any attempts at properly stretching out were nothing.

Neil could have remained as he was but others clearly had different plans for the morning.

His phone buzzed, a low hum from his bag three seats down. Nicky, Neil would guess, or possibly even Kevin wondering at their absence. It was barely audible, but Neil glanced sidelong immediately and wasn't surprised when Andrew shifted in his sleep. He could endure Wymack's rousing speeches or an hours-long bus ride, but in the silence of the stands and empty stadium any sound was an alarm.

Neil understood that too. There were certain circumstances, certain triggers, that he would always be aware of.

Andrew's stirring wasn't a snap to attention. Not that morning and not when it wasn't necessary. As Neil watched, Andrew's eyes opened a fraction and, like a ripple effect, his usual wakeful alertness settled with a hint of tension upon his shoulders. Not an angry or agitated or aggressive tension, but sharp and unwavering nonetheless. He eased into awareness with slow blinks, gaze shifting towards Neil.

Neil blinked a silent greeting in return. For a moment, Andrew didn't reply. Then he straightened in his seat.

"You're awake."

Neil nodded slightly.

"I didn't notice."

Neil hitched a shoulder. It was slightly uncomfortable in his position, but he wasn't yet inclined to break the quiet that was empty of all but Andrew's low murmur.

"You do that," Andrew said slowly. "Sometimes."

There was a question beneath his words. A question that it didn't take Neil long to unravel. Oh. That. "I didn't expect it to be a surprise at this point that I can, in fact, be quiet."

Andrew grunted. He shifted slightly, and for a moment Neil thought he might rise, might make for the exit in a belated attempt to clear the scene following what was already imprinted in Neil's memory with unerring permanency. But he didn't. Instead, after a moment of straightening, the effort seemed to be too much for him and he flopped sideways, all but draping himself over the arm of his chair.

"Tired?" Neil guessed.

"What happened to your capacity for silence?"

"Just because I can be quiet doesn't mean I have to be."

Andrew frowned but there was no heat to the expression. From his awkward recline, he reached a single hand towards Neil and poised it just before his lips. Neil waited. He didn't move as Andrew's finger pressed gently, rested for a moment, then trailed down to his chin. Not as his hand rose slightly up his cheek, trailing across and feather light across his skin, and pausing at the corner of his eye. Neil didn't move but to close his eyes as Andrew's raised hand hung, unmoving, fingers resting almost gently.

It wasn't much. Wasn't anything special. But it felt… nice.

Neil could have remained suspended in stillness for the rest of the morning – for longer, even – and would have beyond Andrew finally lowering his hand to rest atop Neil's propped arm. His fingers were so close Neil could feel the warmth of them on the side of his face.

"You're tired," Andrew said at length. His voice was a low murmur.

"Not really," Neil replied.

"You're lying."

With only a single eye cracked open, Andrew regarded Neil sidelong. If anything, he looked to be the more tired of the two of them. Even bathed in increasingly bright morning light, awash with golden warmth, shadows hung beneath his eyes. Neil had long ago suspected they were permanent.

"Minimal sleep isn't impossible to work with," Neil said.

"I know," Andrew said, because he did. Of course he did.

"I'd almost be willing to bet that I got more than you did last night."

"That wouldn't be hard."

Neil tipped his head into Andrew's hand where it curled along his face. "Hm?"

Andrew gestured with his other in a vague wave at the seats. "Your choice of sleeping quarters is dismal."

"You didn't have to sleep here."

"Neither did you."

"You could have woken me up."

Andrew flicked Neil's cheek, a reprimand that felt like a kindness for the words it left unsaid. The ensuing touches, gentle prods so light they were barely felt, only added to the impression.

"I've slept on worse," Neil said.

"I know," Andrew replied.

"I'm sure you have too."

"The difference is that I have no interest in pursuing the least comfortable bed possible." A pause and then, "what was the worst?"

Neil almost smiled again. It was a rare moment that Andrew asked a question with so little prompting. With such careless curiosity. Once, Neil knew he wouldn't have understood such carelessness for the interest that it was. "The worst?"

"Mm."

Neil considered, resting his head a little more against Andrew's hand as he let his gaze drift. "The worst," he said slowly. "Probably a bathroom cabinet."

Andrew's fingers stilled where they had been prodding. "When?"

"A long time ago."

"Baltimore?"

Neil nodded. "Not my fondest memory."

"Did you actually sleep?"

"Maybe. I think I got a few minutes here and there. The water pipe next to me was too hot to be comfortable though. Fall asleep against it and you'd end up burning yourself."

Andrew's hand shifted, fingers pressing lightly on said elbow. The memory had long ago faded but it never left Neil completely. "Mom put me in there," he said. "My father was on a rampage. A mole, I think it was, but I can't be sure. He tended to do that."

Andrew didn't speak.

"You get used to it after a while. Making do with wherever you can close your eyes."

Nothing.

"You're the same."

Andrew blinked slowly, his gaze meeting Neil's. There was silent acknowledgement in his stare, the kind that Neil had seen countless times and recognised for what it was. That their pasts weren't the same but that they were reflective. That they didn't have identical experiences, but they could understand at least in part because pain was relative.

Neil wasn't glad for that fact. He saw red when he thought of both of their pasts, though less commonly his own. But there was that much at least, and even begrudging, he accepted their common ground. He let the past lay untouched because it was simpler and easier that way. That, and –

"You came to the court."

Neil had known he was playing with fire by verbalising it, but he still could have laughed as Andrew's eyes narrowed. He didn't, because Andrew's hand remained where it was rested against his cheek. It still remained as Neil turned his head and, just briefly, just lightly, pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"It wasn't for you," Andrew said.

"I know."

"Don't expect anything to come of it."

"I won't."

"And if you fall to sleep here again, I'll leave you."

Neil didn't point out the juxtaposition of Andrew's words. He wouldn't tempt fate in this instance. Not when it was something that truly mattered and could risk overstepping the distance that Andrew had come. Instead, he tucked his knees a little more comfortably beneath him and held his tongue.

And he smiled. He knew Andrew didn't need words to know what his actions meant. Lying as he was, staring as he was, even if he didn't smile in return, he didn't call Neil out on his unspoken delight. He didn't withdraw his hand or roll away from him, and it spoke more words than he would ever utter aloud. More than Neil could or would say too.

There were certain things, certain moments, and certain gestures that meant far more than words. Andrew had his own language, and it was one that Neil found himself understanding perfectly.

***

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story, or even just this particular chapter if that’s all you’ve read. But yeah, this is the final chapter. I could have written about my headcanons forever but we’ve got to stop somewhere, right? I’d love to hear your thoughts and your ow headcanons. Feel free to pop over to my AO3 if you’ve got a second! I’m a sucker for fandom exchange XD

[literary-shitstorm]

//: An AU in which Kevin is a football player and Aaron is a dancer and they meet under mildly questionable circumstances, cross-posted on AO3

Kevin had run past the dingy studio on his biweekly route for the past year and a half, yet for the first time, he noticed a warm light creeping under the cracks in the crooked door. The place had obviously gone bankrupt years prior, left to rot through the vicious winters and even more dangerous summers- the years hadn’t been kind to those four walls. It was in one of the older parts of town and the history major within him couldn’t help but wonder if the building had once served a much higher purpose than the one it had sadly been reduced to.

The faint light wasn’t the only puzzling addition to the scenario, the slightest hum of music cut through the nighttime air. Not the sound of rebellious teenage rock or the top charts like he would’ve expected, instead it was a delicate melody. A string of graceful notes with the ever so slight snap of a beat in there, a deep thrumming that kept the song alive. Kevin had never claimed to be any kind of music connoisseur but it was beautiful. It was drawing him in like he didn’t think possible, all thoughts of his jog almost void from his mind. Almost. He quickly pulled himself back, the bite of the evening reawakening his senses- if he stayed out too long his step-mother would be worried sick, no doubt eager to bring out Carolina’s entire police force to gather his whereabouts.

He picked up his feet and carried on his way without a second thought.

_____________

Two weeks later and Kevin was back on the same route past the studio and it was becoming increasingly harder to resist the temptation to look inside. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and now Thursday; each day he had felt the stuttering in his stride as he heard the familiar tune, the draw to an inevitable stop and the way his torso would always twist to face the entrance. He tried to tell himself that he just enjoyed the music and that it wasn’t the underlying curiosity screaming that somebody was in there begging him to peek inside and see just what kind of creature chose to inhabit a place like that. But every time he would get too close all those school assemblies about ‘stranger danger’ would flood to the forefront of his mind, the anxiety would begin to kick in and he would be on his way before you could say run.

Friday came around he knew that things would be different.

He had set out earlier than normal, the sun hadn’t even begun to set and there was only the slightest sliver of grey licking the skyline, the streets were still buzzing with activity; if he wanted to safely get a glimpse of his mysterious visitor there was no better time to try. So he waited with his phone in his palms and a foot placed neatly against the wall behind him, a desperate attempt to avoid drawing attention to his meandering.

Half an hour passed and nothing changed other than the blooming of colors beginning to ripple across the sky and the disappearance of the sun behind a thick layer of clouds. It was when a weak chill started to settle in that Kevin considered calling it a night, heading home and preoccupying his mind with plays and strategies for that weekend’s game. That all changed when he pocketed his phone and drew his foot from the wall; he looked up at the boy walking past him and he knew.

He was short, that was the first thing Kevin noticed, impossibly so. There was an air of grace and nonchalance to the way his feet curled into the floor as he worked and the way his body combined sharp features with even sharper movement. It was cat-like and bordering on plain sinister. Whoever this guy was, he seemed just as on edge as Kevin. A golden mop of curls sat atop his head, ever so slightly beginning to brush into his eyes, or perhaps it was being pushed down by the almost comically large headphones that covered his ears. As expected, when the figure deemed that there was nobody around to witness, he slipped into the studio and slammed the door behind him.

He wished that he could go back and pretend that it had never happened because Kevin’s mystery had a face and oh god it was beautiful.

_____________

“It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?” “Shut up Neil.” “I’m just saying, Kevin, you’ve been listening to this guy for weeks-” “Neil.” “And now you’ve seen him-” “Shut the fuck up, Josten.” “And you can’t go a second without thinking about him.”

It wasn’t true, Kevin was perfectly capable of going without thinking about his mysterious stranger, wasn’t he?

_____________

Kevin didn’t dare believe that things could get any worse from there. He’d always had a problem with fixation: football, friends, family- but now it was him and every single time he saw the slightest flash of blond he felt anxiety beginning to knaw at his chest. He didn’t dare admit that whatever this was could be a crush, because this was a stranger that he’d never even spoken to. He didn’t even know his name. He wasn’t gay. He’d dated the star of the Girls Football Team, Thea Muldani, back in high school for over two years and prior to that, he’d had a few silly adolescent romances. He wasn’t gay but he felt as though the picture of this boy was burned into the back of his eyelids. It failed to ease any of the anxiety that he was feeling.

It was on his Wednesday evening jog, two weeks after first laying eyes on his puzzle, that Kevin encountered an unavoidable trap that begged for his attention. The door was open. Well, it wasn’t intentionally open, but for the first time the light that usually managed to just creep under the doorframe was bleeding out full force onto the concrete, casting the shadows of the room within. Before any rational thought could even begin to process the situation, Kevin found his feet moving towards the entrance and his eyes drawn to the opening, however, he squeezed them shut before he got to close in a feeble attempt to avoid the heartache he was so obviously determined to bring upon himself. He braced himself with fingers latched on the frame and made sure that he was positioned so that he would be forced to take in the whole room; it was like the boys from his team always said: Go big or go home. 

It took him a few seconds to readjust to the light flooding back into his vision, especially with the rapidly moving figure shifting in front of him.

He was dancing.

Kevin had never found himself being the type of person that argued his opinions; friends and family were a maybe but strangers were a clear cut no. He’d always found himself nodding and smiling along with whichever clique he’d had to cater to during that conversation and allowed things to flow without his input. During football training growing up, he’d often heard the boys surrounding him make jokes at the expense of dancers, especially after their Coach had suggested that perhaps they should incorporate some ballet into their fitness regimes. They had gone on for hours about pretentious dancers and their prissy songs and uptight attitudes towards others. Kevin would be a liar to say that after years of hearing the same judgment he hadn’t somewhat bought into the idea, but watching his enigma move fiercely in front of him- he was inclined to rethink his opinion.

He had never seen anything like it; every movement set off hundreds of muscles flexing underneath taut skin. Every flick of a foot or hand was perfectly precisioned, strong yet delicate at the same time. Every spin was perfectly catered to the music, he seemed to be almost floating as he spun on the tips of his toes- how was he doing that- it was entirely beautiful in a way that Kevin had never experienced. In spite of all the grace, however, there was a look of rage plastered on the face of the boy; his brows were furrowed into a deep v and there was a fury flickering in his eyes whenever he caught a glimpse of them in the dusted mirror on the wall.

Beautiful wasn’t the word. Dangerous was.

Danger was definitely the emotion that Kevin felt when the music came to a slow stop and the boy landed facing directly towards the entrance and, in turn, directly towards him. It was only at that moment that he realized in his stupor he had stepped out to the point of almost being in the room. For a horrendous moment, their eyes met and there was nothing but fire between them, a blazing connection of blown-out pupils that seemed much too intimate for their first-ever acknowledgment of each other. He imagined that the same concoction of fear and shock on his opposers face also matched his own, and before any words could pass between the two of them, he was on the balls of his feet and sprinting faster than he could ever remember being.

It took an extra four blocks for his heart to ease some of the thrumming, still, he knew that he wasn’t struggling to get breath into his lungs due to the exercise.

_____________

It was hard, but he tried his best to remove any recollection of the dancing boy from his mind. He finally persuaded Neil to stop talking about it, no longer offering him the satisfaction of a reaction at the mention of blond hair and pointe shoes. He changed his running routes and made sure that he steered clear of the old abandoned building at all times. 

Allison always talks about self-care. That was what he tried to tell himself- that by completely avoiding the anxiety-inducing experience that was anything to do with him was his way of looking out for himself. Of course, he knew that it was a complete lie. 

After getting fed up with his ‘constant moping’, Neil, Allison and a few of the other reprobates his father had taken under his wing that he had somehow found himself associated with had organized a night out at a club a few towns over. Associates or not, they seemed to know that Kevin would be anywhere at the promise of alcohol on somebody else's tab. He never understood why everybody made it into such an ordeal; he was waiting in the front room of the apartment he (half-)stayed at with Neil, tapping his foot on the carpet whilst the others were still emerging from their various different ‘get ready’ points.

Neil had told him that the club they were going to was called Eden’s Twilight and that Allison and Renee knew three of the people who worked there and could probably hook them up with a few free drinks. The drive crammed into Matt’s pick up was agonizingly slow and the engine never seemed to sound any less like it could die at any second; he’d be a liar to say he didn’t enjoy the blurring of the highway as they sped past trees, cars, and buildings. The way they all seemed to morph into one gave him an oddly serene feeling, it was peaceful.

Of course, that peace could never last. The moment that they entered the bar Kevin was struck with a feeling of abject terror because the dancing boy was behind the bar and Renee was talking to him like all of this meant nothing. The words slipped out before he could stop them, “It’s you.” The eyes that passed over him as a result were nothing like the ones he had witnessed weeks prior, those had been angry and driven, these were the eyes of a dead man, completely cold and void of anything that could be considered feelings. In spite of that, there was a cruel smile twisted on his face as he said, “Righty ‘o,” and more sinister, “What have I done this time?” “You’re the dancer in the abandoned room.” He wasn’t justified with an answer that time, only the slightest giggle from Renee, “Andrew’s certainly not a dancer, Kevin.” “But how-” “You must be thinking of Aaron,” a louder voice rang out from behind the bar, followed by a much taller, tanned man with dozens of glasses stacked in his hands, “You a friend? Don’t sweat it, I still get them confused sometimes. He’s round the back on his break if you want him.”

In an all too familiar turn of events, Kevin was out the door and making his way around the back before his mind could make sense of the information that it had received. 

And there he was.

He spotted the golden hair under a streetlight before anything else, the rest of him was clad in black from head to toe, barely visible in the darkness. There was an open bottle hanging loosely been his fingertips and Kevin watched as he pulled it to his lips and took a deep swig.

Kevin tried to swallow any anxiety he felt (it didn’t work) and set forward into the light himself, “It really is you.” The figure jumped slightly at the comment, fear passing over his face before it curled with recognition, “You’re my stalker.” “No,” Kevin’s response was frantic, “....yes. But it wasn’t like that I swear-” “Relax, I’m much too buzzed to care about you right now,” he paused before offering the bottle which Kevin too almost too enthusiastically.

They stood in a kind of awkward silence for what felt like an eternity, moving the bottle between them until there were only droplets left in the bottom. “Are you a professional?” “What?” He could feel the red hot blush grow to his cheeks, “Uh...athlete...dancer....” Even in the darkness, Kevin could make out the way Aaron’s eyes were smoldering like coals,  “Used to be.” “What happened?” “What’s it to you,” Aaron’s voice came out like knives on a grater before gaining a darkness akin to his twin, “Drug testing.” 

The silence returned for a few moments, but Kevin quickly decided what he needed to do. “My dad sponsors and manages athletes from...disadvantaged backgrounds. He’d definitely help you out if that was what you wanted.” “You think I’m some fucking charity case, huh? You don’t know shit!” Kevin couldn’t help but flinch at the angry words flying in his direction, “I don’t want your stupid fucking pity offer.” Kevin took a shaky inhale before slipping one of the cards he always carried with him out of his pocket and dropping it on the floor, “The offer is there if you want it.”

With that, he turned on his heel and practically ran back into the club with only one plan of getting completely shitfaced.

_____________

Life carried on. At the time the upset that Kevin had felt churning in his stomach was mountainous; he wasn’t sure how he’d ever overcome the unbearable memory of the experience that followed him wherever he went. Alas, it took some time, but he moved on from the disappointment of his meeting with Aaron Minyard. 

As if the world was taunting him over and over, it obviously couldn’t stay that way.

It was on a Saturday morning that his dad rang him to warn him of a client coming over for their first meeting and that he and Abby wouldn’t be able to make it back in time, asking if Kevin would be okay with making a few introductions. He’s your age, he’d assured. 

Nothing could have prepared him for answering the door to Aaron Minyard on that Saturday morning. “Fuck, I thought it’d have to deal with this at some point but not as soon as I got to the damn door.” “Come in,” was the only monotonous response Kevin could muster amidst the nerves, “Would you like a drink?” Aaron held up a coffee cup in his hand in response, “I’m okay.”

If Kevin had though the silence that night had been unbearable, that didn’t come close to the awkwardness of the two of them sitting in his dad’s office. All that he could think to do is run through the little booklet that sat on the desk, explaining the types of things that they would offer support for until Aaron’s tense voice cut him off, “Listen, I can’t put up with this awkward shit...” he paused and Kevin could practically hear his teeth grating, “So I’m sorry.” “Not used to apologizing?” “No, I suppose I’m not. I was a dick that night- I was drunk and high and I’d had a shitty day,” he inhaled through his nose, “But I wouldn’t fucking be here if I didn’t want that to change, would I?” “No, I suppose not.” “We even?” “I guess so.”

Things were somewhat less painful after they’d gotten that out of the way and Kevin even found himself slipping into a conversation with the blond when they ran out of business to discuss, “What do you do?” “Huh?” “This all seems pretty athletic,” Aaron motioned to, well, the whole of him, “What sport do you play?” “Football.” Aaron allowed the smallest of bemused smiles to slip onto his face, “All football players are Neanderthals.” “I can agree with that.”

It took a while for the conversation to slip to the inevitable, but the blow came as expected, “Why were you watching me that day?” Kevin couldn’t lie, not now, after all this turmoil and anxiety and disappointment. “It was beautiful.” Aaron’s gaze quickly dropped to his lap, obviously uncomfortable with being complimented in such a way, “...You really think so?” “I do.” And at that moment Kevin had always been sure that he wasn’t gay, but he felt something different when Aaron’s chocolate eyes (a gorgeous color, so dark that they almost blended with his pupils, Kevin noted) forged their way into his own. It was only when he felt his center of gravity lean minutely forward and he could see his opposition doing the same that the bang of the front door broke them from their trance and sent them flying apart. His father barged in with his usual rough exterior.

“So Aaron Minyard, right?”

_____________

Two weeks after that, Aaron let Kevin watch him practice for the first time.

_____________

And two months after that they kissed for the first time and Aaron became Kevin’s dancing boy.

//I hate this with a passion and I feel like the only way it should truly be read is within hellfire, but I really wanted to post something and this was about all my motivation could stir up. Kevaaron own my dead heart and that's my only justification for this

Fun Fact: I wrote this with a maybe broken finger

This is my first contribution to this fandom on tumblr- ew.