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mr-im-fine · 4 years ago

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HAPPY SPRING EXCHANGE TO @andthenthefirenationattacked ! I hope you like it!

EVE by mr-im-fine (witch_lit) (T | 1,039 | 1/1)

Neil and Andrew share an afternoon looking after the strawberry sales at Camp Half Blood.

/Andreil, PJO AU, Pre-Relationship

@aftgexchange

Thunk.

Andrew flicks his blade and watches it vibrate, then knocks it down, leaving another gouge in the counter.

Thunk.

Andrew knows he’s wearing out the blade, but he can have one of the Hephaestus kids look at it later. If he pretends to be Aaron, Matt would probably do it without question. Matt never was very good at telling him and his brother apart.

Thunk.

The twitch in the new kids eyebrow is entertaining. Andrew can tell he’s at the end of his rope, glaring the occasional daggers over at Andrew from his post where he’s helping a passing New York family pick strawberries. Ha, daggers.

Hey, it’s not Andrew’s fault the family had wanted to pick their own. Something about ‘hands on family time’, or whatever. If it had just been a drive by, Andrew would have taken their cash and given them a carton. But they’d wanted the ‘experience’, and Andrew will take the opportunity to put distance in between himself and the newbie.

Besides, the roadside strawberry pickup is just barely big enough for two people, let alone two twitchy demigods. The rickety metal fan only does so much against the summer heat, and they’re technically outside of camp, so the weather regulation is a little off. The monsters are a little more likely to come there way, too, which is why they’re both there. Buddy system and all that.

Andrew’s not sure how effective the buddy system will be if there’s any actual danger. Neil, the new kid, looks like he would run at the first sign of danger, Andrew be damned. Not that Andrew can really blame him. Sending the newest recruit to help with the strawberry sales has been tradition for as long as Andrew’s been at camp, but it’s a dumb one.

Thunk.

“Will you cut that out?” Neil finally snaps, the family of four loading back into their car.

“Or what?” Andrew says, leveling Neil with a stare as he flicks his blade. It quivers, but stays sunk into the wood.

Neil holds his gaze until the roar of an engine starting snaps him out of it. His eyes flick towards the family, pulling away from the side of the highway, before they return to the strawberry stand. His throat works as he looks down at the blade between them, then his shoulders slowly unclench, rolling back.

“Or nothing,” Neil says, his voice lighter than it had been. He doesn’t move from his spot.

Andrew quirks an eyebrow and pulls the knife out of the wood, watching Neil tense up before forcing a relaxed pose. It’s purposefully deferent, carefully controlled. Meant to show Andrew that he’s won.

Andrew doesn’t believe it for a second. He believes that Neil meant to pick a fight, to get him to stop. This demure demeanor is as fake as the eye color the demigod is sporting. Andrew’s seen the contacts, they’ve certainly been close enough in their time in the strawberry booth.

“Rabbit,” Andrew admonishes, sliding his knife closed and slipping it into his pocket. Neil’s eyes follow the knife, and Andrew has never been more certain that a demigod has faced monsters before. Both the mythical kind, and the ones who claimed to be nothing but human.

Andrew’s hands ache with the desire to touch. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, throwing them down on the scored wood counter. He lights one, focusing on it much harder than he needs to. When Neil sits down in the booth, Andrew is grateful he’s as far away as possible.

Not looking over, Andrew slides the carton of cigarettes towards Neil. Out of his periphery, he can see Neil’s long fingers hook into the box and pull it open. The urge to lean over and light Neil’s cigarette with his own overcomes him briefly, but Andrew ignores it, tossing his lighter at the other man.

Neil catches the lighter in one hand, pushing shut the carton and sliding it across the counter with the other. He lights up quickly, the movement obviously familiar as he hides it from the blow of the fan. He throws the lighter back at Andrew, an eyebrow quirked.

Andrew feels annoyance, already simmering in his gut, shoot through his bloodstream like adrenaline.

He carefully does not watch as Neil brings the cigarette close to his face, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Andrew has half a mind to tell him that that’s not how one is supposed to smoke a cigarette, but he’s not interested in babying the other man. If he doesn’t know how to smoke, despite obviously being well versed in lighting the cigarette, that’s his problem.

Even if a little, traitorous part of Andrew wants to ask.

Divesting his gaze from Neil’s closed eyes, his eyelashes, Andrew looks out at the highway. There are not many cars, but some still pass, bright colors past a green landscape that has become dull to him with exposure.

“It’s cheaper if you roll your own,” Neil says, sometime later, his cigarette a smoldering butt between his fingers.

“It’s a waste of time,” Andrew says as he lights his second cigarette.

“It’s not like you’re doing anything out here.”

“I’m selling strawberries.”

Neil rolls his eyes. “I can see that.”

They lapse into silence again, both watching the highway as Andrew chain smokes. This is the only place Andrew can smoke in peace, which is a huge part of the reason he does this to begin with. He needs the silence, the time away from camp. Usually, the newbies give him a much wider berth than Neil has. Usually, they would have read the whispers in the camp and known to stay the hell out of his way.

As the sun begins to set, Andrew glances at Neil. He wonders what it would be like, to watch Neil roll him a cigarette. If he would know the right thickness, how his tongue would look wetting a line across the rolling paper.

Irritated at his brain, Andrew stands up. Neil stands next to him, stretching out his shoulders. Andrew doesn’t look back at him as they head towards camp. It’s going to be an interesting summer.

#aftg exchange #aftg #Andrew MinyarD #neil josten #Andreil

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