#palstate foxes prompts

[foxesbettingpool]

Could you write something where Neil has "died" before like he flat-lined after getting shot but in the hospital their able to restart his heart and him and his mother run a couple days later and some how this comes up when the foxes are all kind of chilling and their like wtf

(this isn’t entirely what you asked for but here is something? A mess, actually.)

It knocks the breath out him, though he’s not exactly sure if it’s from surprise or pain. His vision stutters violently, tinged red and he reaches for anything to steady his tilting world. His fingertips scrape the dingy Detroit wall, clinging to the space between the rough bricks before slipping away. His knees hit the ground so hard he feels the bruises forming. That however, is the least of his worries.

Home, he thinks. He has to get home. He can feel the warmth that travels down his side. Logically, he knows it’s blood. He could touch it to see but he doesn’t want to acknowledge that just yet. He stumbles through alleyways, doing his best to avoid people. Even though this is Detriot, he can’t walk down the street covered in blood. They’ll find him again. They always do and he can’t lead them to his mother.

He takes alleyways, winding through buildings while his blood slips sluggishly through his fingers. His vest was supposed to protect him. But he moved at the last second. Had he moved any later, he would’ve been shot in the neck. Just thinking about bleeding all over a grimy alley, without his real name and at his father’s hands, makes him sick. He pauses to retch violently in an old trash can before continuing.

He doesn’t remember getting home, just remembers that he hurts. Just remembers that he’s losing so much blood. He knocks on the door, just barely. But his mother always listens carefully and within seconds, he hears the deadbolt slip back.

“William! What happened?” Mary reaches for him and he cringes backward. His alias doesn’t register for a moment. She reaches out again, gripping his arm and he groans loudly. The pain makes his head spin and he feels himself begin to fall again.

Mary drags him inside, pulls him onto the table and he feels her hands ripping his clothes away. She pokes and prods at the wound, flickers in and out of his line of sight. He hears her muttering to herself, hears supplies piling up next to his head. She fits something into his mouth. A wash cloth, he realizes. It sucks the moisture from his mouth.

“Bite down,” Mary says. He does and a moment later, the pain rips his mind into pieces.

He wakes gasping for breath, nails gripping the fabric of his shirt. Everything feels heavy, itchy against his skin, the sheets wound tightly around his legs. He kicks them off and calms only slightly, though the sluggishness that comes off dreams still keeps him from fully waking. Someone shifts in the bed beside him. His voice comes out weak with fear. “Mother?”

“Neil.” The voice that answers him makes the blood in his veins run cold. He lashes out, every nerve in his body stinging, screaming for him to run away as far as he can. But someone hits back, though he can tell it’s a pulled punch. His hands are forced his side and he feels something pinning them there. The sudden weight on top of him makes him panic again and he struggles violently against his assailant. “Neil, that’s enough.”

They let him struggle for a few more minutes before a punch all but shatters his jaw. His head snaps to the side, the opposite cheek smacking against the headboard. He blinks, still struggling for breath and slowly, he turns back. Andrew sits, straddling his lap with knees pressed into Neil’s palms. He regards Neil with his same bored and disinterested look. Neil knows him well enough to know that he has questions.

He tugs on his hands a little before giving up. His head falls back against the headboard again and he opts to look down his nose at Andrew. He smiles a little. “I’m fine.”

“Like hell,” Andrew says. But he rolls off him anyway. He settles beside Neil, a comfortable distance away. He’s woken Neil enough times to know that contact right after isn’t really the best idea. They both have woken up each other up enough to learn habits. It’s another reason why Andrew knows that Neil is being entirely truthful.

Neil allows himself to look at Andrew. The man crosses his legs to pick at a fraying him in his pants. They’re actually Neil’s pants, but Andrew had stolen them so long ago and their clothes were so mixed up from the wash, it didn’t really matter anymore. Even though Neil stares, Andrew doesn’t look at him. “Andrew, it was just a dream.”

“Like hell,” Andrew says again. The look he gives Neil could freeze rivers in Hell but all it does is make Neil smile again. Andrew turns a little to face him. “No dream is just a dream. What happened?”

Neil looks away this time. He plays with his hands, watching the moonlight turn the lines of his scars into shadows and silver. Andrew waits patiently for him to speak. The clock on the wall ticks steadily. Slowly, his breath falls in between each beat. His scar itches and he reaches up to rake his nails across it. Andrew catches his hand, winds his fingers into Neil’s and forces it back down again. “Neil…”

“I got shot,” Neil says. He feels Andrew’s hand tighten a bit. His grip always tightens when he hears about Neil getting hurt. It was almost like he couldn’t control it. Neil waited a moment until Andrew’s grip loosened. “Back when I was on the run. I got shot.”

Andrew pulls a little on collar of Neil’s t-shirt. “Yes or no?”

Neil hesitates. He’s never really told this story before. All he’s ever said about his scars was relatively vague, a story without all the details. It was easier to discuss them; he didn’t have to relive the pain if he didn’t give details and whoever asked was satisfied enough to let their imagination think of the rest. He debates the options in his head. Eventually he decides, this is Andrew. “Yes.”

Andrew pulls the collar of the shirt down and runs his fingers over the puckered scar. He makes a very small noise of disapproval before flicking Neil’s shirt back into place. He pulls his hand from Neil’s, examines his nails and gives Neil a very cool look from behind his eyelashes. He says nothing though; his mouth doesn’t even twitch.

“It was in Detroit. My mom actually let me go somewhere by myself. I told her, promised her, that I would be home in fifteen minutes. They cornered me as soon as I hit the curb. I ran and thought I lost them. And then the bullet hit me,” Neil says. He rubs his hand over his scar, feels the ridges across his skin.

Andrew still doesn’t move. His eyes are locked on Neil, the only sign that this story has caught his interest. Unpredictable, he had said once. Sometimes, Neil was unpredictable. Sometimes the stories he told about his life were unpredictable. It’s what keeps you interesting.

“I don’t remember making it home but I do remember it was hard to breathe. I was panicked and losing a lot of blood. It was a .30 carbine bullet, stuck in my shoulder. My mom had to cut out the bullet. But she nicked something digging for the bullet.”

“Nicked something,” Andrew repeats. His eyes narrow, just enough to be noticeable. He takes another look at the scar.

Weakly, Neil laughs. The memory of pain is almost as painful as the event itself. “She said that for hours, she debated taking me to the hospital. She’d pushed the bullet up underneath my collarbone and then broke it to try and get the bullet out. I almost bled out on the table.”  

Neil looks out the window. In the reflection, he can see Andrew get up and pull a sweatshirt on. He leaves the room and Neil can hear him making coffee. He sneaks a look at the alarm clock, frowning at how early it is. A few minutes later, Andrew returns with steaming mugs of coffee. He gets settled back underneath the blankets and mirrors Neil’s frown from behind his glasses.

“So you almost bled to death?”

“Well, yes almost. They managed to get me back,” Neil says eventually. He takes a slow sip of his coffee. It burns all the way to the center of his chest, where it settles uncomfortably.

Andrew sets his cup down on the nightstand, fixing Neil with another one of his stern looks. “You died?”

“It was just for a minute, Andrew. Gosh, you didn’t even know me then. Don’t get upset. I’m-” Neil falls quiet, watching as Andrew struggles to control himself. For a moment, Neil isn’t even sure that Andrew is breathing.

“Bullshit,” Andrew says. But he leaves it at that, settling instead for taking Neil’s hand again. His grip is as tight as ever. The room is incredibly still and quiet as Andrew leans forward to press his forehead against Neil’s. His other hand wraps around the back of Neil’s neck.

His eyes are dark shades of gold. He is trembling, though just barely. Neil knows it’s because he’s angry. The very thought of Neil going through these kinds of ordeals always sends Andrew into a bit of a spin.  He lets him hold on, lets him get his breath under control. Finally, Andrew lets out a slow breath through his teeth. He blinks once and sighs again before letting himself lean heavily against Neil.

“Andrew,” Neil says. He sets his cup on the windowsill, presses his hands to Andrew’s face. It feels wrong to speak so loud when they are so incredibly close. His voice is just barely a whisper. “Andrew, I am fine. I promise.”

Andrew shakes his head. “You are never getting shot again.”

“I’m not planning to,” Neil says. He laughs a little.

“If anyone tries that, they’ll get a knife to their throat,” Andrew snaps. His voice is rough but controlled. Gradually, he pulls back, dragging Neil back underneath the covers.

They lay there well past noon, Andrew’s hands under Neil’s shirt, tracing over scars like he can erase the stories behind them. Neil lets him, flinching only a little as they run over the puckered scar. Touch still lingering, Andrew leans in and presses a faint kiss to Neil’s forehead.

[foxesbettingpool]

Andreil + A Daughter

(Someone asked for Andreil with a daughter so I wrote how they got the daughter and it turned into a seven page Google doc. It may have gotten a bit ooc...)

They’re not in the habit of asking much from one another. The world has already asked so much of both of them. So all they ask is for honesty, space when needed, and the proper time and patience to heal from their dirty pasts. So when Andrew brings up foster care, it doesn’t take long for Neil to consider all of the possibilities and then agree to try.

After working to get the license to foster and attending required classes, they are ready (and though neither will admit it, a bit nervous). They start by setting a few boundaries, things that perhaps no one thinks about but that Andrew knows to think about from experience. The first, is no one is allowed in bedroom of the foster child unless explicitly given permission. No physical contact unless there is explicit permission. And no pressing for information from the foster child. Consent is perhaps the most important aspect of their relationship with their foster kids. Any other rules come along with the child and the situation.

At first, Neil thinks it will get easier. That perhaps, it will be less painful to comfort a confused kid in the middle of the night. But it only gets harder each time. Because he knows. He knows what it’s like to be lost, to be left behind and ripped from a familiar world. He knows what it is like to watch nightmares come to life, to have them follow you during the day and haunt you at night.

Their first foster child, Marty, is six. He runs around the house and pulls the tails on both cats. He yells about everything, is a picky eater and refuses to shower (much to Andrew’s disgust). And yet, they try their hardest to give this kid a good home. Andrew lays off drinking for a while because the kid comes from a home broken apart by alcohol. Neil teaches him how to properly hold an Exy racquet and how to throw rebounds to himself. They only have Marty for a few months but when the little boy leaves, the house feels incredibly empty.

Their second foster child, Alicia, is a little older, though not by much. She’s eight years old and incredibly shy. She comes from a home where the mother has died and the father has been accused of negligence. Starved for touch, she clings desperately to whoever will hold her. At first, she is frightened of Neil and his scars but when she sees how gentle he is, she plants herself in his lap every night when watching television. Alicia is afraid of being alone, and when left to her own devices, becomes self destructive. So Andrew and Neil make a habit of spending plenty of time with her, and teaching her that being alone isn’t always bad. By the time she leaves their home, she has learned to entertain herself and calm herself down when she gets scared. Seven months is a long time and Neil and Andrew feel a hollow place where she used to be.

Their third foster child, Carter, is twelve and only with them for a week. He’s quiet, incredibly withdrawn and it is the first time that Neil and Andrew really use the “no entering the kid’s bedroom” rule. Though Carter shares meals with them and they give him rides to school, he doesn’t do much else with him. They do their best to respect that and though it tears them both apart, the closest they get to Carter’s room is outside the door in the middle of the night when he’s crying for his mother.

When the agency tells them about fostering a fourth child, Neil doesn’t think he can do it anymore. The stories that he’s heard about these kids’ situations is so hard. He can’t possibly bear sitting outside of that bedroom, listening to kids screaming or crying, confused and alone and scared. But he knows that if he got through it, they can too. Andrew tells him that the only thing they can give these kids is hope; hope for a better life.

“We have a better life. They should see it’s possible,” he says with a shrug. And so after a long night of fretful pacing and several hours of doubting and arguing, Neil agrees to continue fostering.

Astrid Montgomery is nine years old. She comes to them with a single bag, and red pigtails. At first, they know nothing about her. The agency just says they need an emergency placement and that they don’t really know how long she’ll be staying with Neil and Andrew. When the social worker drops Astrid off, she tells them that Astrid’s mother abandoned her at a hospital. After a long history with drugs and a string of violent lovers, Ms. Montgomery decided having a daughter is too expensive on her lifestyle.

The girl is both scared and incredibly angry, which is something Neil and Andrew understand entirely. They do their best to welcome her into the house. When they show her to her room, she shuts herself in and tells them to go away. Andrew backs off immediately and drags a very reluctant Neil away.

“You have some serious maternal instincts. But she wants to be left alone,” Andrew says sternly. When Neil begins to protest, he shuts him up with a firm kiss and a sharp tug towards the kitchen. “It’s almost dinner time.”

Neil sighs heavily and nods. “Okay, fine. I’ll make something.”

They spend the afternoon in the kitchen. Neil cooks, or tries too, and Andrew rescues the lasagna and cookies. After perhaps the fourth time throwing Sir and King off the counter, Neil looks up to find Astrid in the doorway. She’s taken her pigtails out and has her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Neil smiles and holds a very squirmy King out to her. “Do you want to hold him?”

Astrid takes a step closer, looks cautiously at the cat and then shakes her head. She goes back to her spot in the doorway. Andrew and Neil go back to their business, tossing plates to each other and setting the table for dinner. It’s something they’ve only recently gotten into the habit of doing. Growing older has made them moderately domestic, which is something they would have never seen coming.

“Are you hungry, Astrid?” Neil asks. He holds a plate out to her, trying to coax her from the doorway. She doesn’t take it and he makes a point of placing it within her reach. After retreating behind the counter, Neil grabs a glass from the cabinet and looks back at her. “Would you like water, juice or milk with your dinner?”

Andrew pulls the options from the fridge and places them on the counter so she can see them. They stay behind the counter, watching as she creeps forward to point timidly toward the carton of juice. When she retreats back to the door, Andrew pours her a sizable cup of juice and sets it on the table. He and Neil dish out food and then sit.

They are halfway through their meal when Astrid finally joins them. She scoots her chair to the end of the table, closer to the door and further away from Andrew and Neil. She eats quickly and quietly, watching for any sign that someone is coming for her. It breaks Neil’s heart and he can tell that Andrew is also struggling with Astrid’s habits. It hits close to home.

“What happened to your face?” Astrid asks. She watches Neil with her fork halfway to her mouth, unaware or uncaring of the cheese and meat that is slowly inching back towards her plate. Her voice is so small that it startles Neil and Andrew when she first speaks.

Neil exchanges a glance with Andrew. He turns back to Astrid and smiles. “I went through a very hard time. But I’m better now.”

Astrid frowns. “Hard times don’t do that to people.”

“No, people do that to people,” Andrew says. He shoves Sir off the table in vague annoyance.

“Bad people do that to people,” Astrid replies. She plays with her food before adding, “I’m scared they’ll hurt me again.”

Neil can feel Andrew bristling from across the table. Under the table, he reaches for Andrew’s hand. He can feel the bone-crushing grip as Andrew works to keep himself calm. After a brief moment, Neil turns back to Astrid. “Who are ‘they?’”

Astrid ducks her head, curls into herself and Neil can see himself in her for a moment. That instinct of flight; that instinct to keep quiet and secret to avoid getting hurt again. Neil bites his lip; he wants to keep asking questions but he knows they made rules and he needs to follow them. Finally Astrid casts a shy look back at Neil and says, “My momma’s boyfriends.”

Andrew shifts in his seat, clears his throat. He pulls his hand out of Neil’s before placing them flat on the table. Astrid flinches and Andrew forces himself to relax just a little. He watches her, jaw muscles ticking occasionally. His words are very carefully chosen. “Astrid, I don’t break promises. And I promise that I will do my very best to make sure that no one hurts you again.”

Astrid stares. “You can’t do that.”

“I can sure try,” Andrew says, voice hard. He looks at Neil and smiles, just barely. “We have a rule in this house. Do you know what consent means, Astrid?”

“No,” she says.

“It means that you need to have permission before anything happens,” Andrew explains. He points to Neil. “We do not touch one another without very clearly stated permission. And we will not touch you, no hugs or hand holding or pats on the back, nothing. Nothing happens without your permission. Do you understand?”

She nods once, drops her fork back onto the plate. “Yes.”

It’s the longest conversation they have for the rest of the week. Astrid keeps to herself, staying away from Neil and Andrew. Aside from the occasional question over dinner, she doesn’t say much. Car rides to school are very quiet; music makes her flinch. At night, she cries for her mother. Neil or Andrew take up post outside of her bedroom in case she calls for them. Sometimes it is both of them, slumped against the wall and curled against one another. They never once touch that door knob though, keeping their promise to each other and Astrid that she will have a safe place that is her own.

A month into her stay at the Minyard-Josten house, Astrid sits beside Neil on the couch. She is perched on the edge, still ready to run if things go south and he doesn’t blame her. Sometimes, he still feels like he needs to run. She watches the Exy game with a level of interest that Neil doesn’t understand but when she turns to him, he mutes the coverage and turns to look at her.

“What does home feel like?” she asks.

Neil hesitates before answering. “You know, Astrid, home is something different to everyone. When you get there, you’ll know.”

Astrid thinks for a moment. “And what is it for you?”

“Home is Andrew,” he says, smiling faintly. “Home is Andrew. It is a key fitting into a lock, waking up in a bed with him, falling asleep with him. It’s the cats and the plants. The safety.”

“Oh,” Astrid says. She gets up and leaves the room.

In the middle of the second month with Astrid, she runs away. Without a word, she slips away from her summer day camp. The phone call comes while Neil and Andrew are in Exy practice. Andrew lets the ball slip past him into the goal as he fishes in his pocket for his phone. He listens only for a moment before he pales and points toward the court door. Within seconds, he and Neil are peeling out of the parking lot, still in their gear with racquets abandoned by the goal.

“What happened?” Neil asks. He risks a look at Andrew, who has a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

Andrew speeds up. “She ran away. They were about to get on the bus to go to some museum and she just disappeared.”

Neil’s stomach drops. “Astrid?”

“Who else, Neil?” Andrew blows through a red-light without checking for cops. He flips off the honking cars and then turns so violently Neil is thrown against the window. He gives him a brief glance of apology.

“They won’t let us keep her,” Neil says. He feels his chest get tight at the thought of not having Astrid there. He chews on his knuckle before throwing another nervous glance out the window. “If we can’t find her, if she doesn’t come back. Andrew, they’re going to take her away. We made a promise.”

Andrew smacks the steering wheel. “Neil, I know! I know, okay?”

The car falls silent, tires squealing when they pull to a very hasty stop. The camp supervisor is in hysterics, attempting to explain the situation to a very angry man. When Andrew and Neil race up to her, she nearly faints. Neither of them look happy, though Neil looks more like a fretful mother than the furious father vibe that Andrew has going on.

“I paid for my kid to get taken to the museum today,” the man snaps, ignoring Neil and Andrew’s attempts to grab the attention of the supervisor. He waves his arms dramatically, nearly taking Neil’s head off. “Now I find out I spent twenty dollars on nothing because some stupid brat ran away.”

Neil bristles but Andrew has already beaten him to the punch. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” the man snaps. He gives Neil and Andrew a dramatic look over, lip curled. It’s clear he doesn’t care for them at all, though he has no right to judge. His toupe is about to fall off in the wind.

“That kid has been through hell,” Andrew snarls. Neil holds him back from hitting the man but he doesn’t bother to try and shut Andrew up. “She doesn’t have a permanent home, her life just fell apart, and now she has to deal with stupid people like you and your stupid brat. If you’re so concerned about your damn money, get a damn refund and shut your mouth.”

The man spins on his heels. He and his kid leave and Andrew and Neil get to looking for Astrid. They spend hours looking around town, in every area they can think of. When the sun goes down, Neil becomes more frantic, Andrew more tense. They spent several more hours driving everywhere they think of before finally giving up.

Neil, near tears, curls himself in the passenger seat and flips his phone open and shut. “We have to call Child Protective Services.”

Andrew reaches for his hand, grips it tightly and runs his thumb over Neil’s knuckles. His voice is rough. “When we get home.”

The drive home is tense. It seems like it takes hours and they watch the streetlights slice the car to pieces as they turn onto their street. Neil swallows hard and squeezes Andrew’s hand harder as they get closer to the house. When they turn into the driveway, Neil lets out a sharp gasp. The brakes slam on and his head flies into the dashboard.

“Andrew!”

Andrew only grunts. Neil doesn’t care. They’re flying out of the car, only pausing to make sure it’s actually in park. They stumble to a stop a safe distance away from the small figure huddled on the front porch. Neil covers his mouth, hands shaking. Andrew crowds in at his back, a small smile the only sign of his relief.

She stares up at them, tears staining her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Neil kneels in front of her. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re just glad you’re safe.”

“I’m so scared. But, I had nowhere else to go,” she whispers. She shivers. Andrew peels off his hoodie and tosses it to her.

Neil sits down on the sidewalk and folds his hands in his lap. “Astrid? I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I know how you feel.” And even though it is late and it’s getting cold, he tells her about his life on the run. How he was always scared, how he was always waiting for someone to hurt him and how in the end, after all that fear and pain, he found his home. “You may feel like you have nowhere to go, nowhere safe, I want to you know that here will always be a safe place. You can always come here.”

She starts crying again. Andrew lurches forward, almost like he can’t control himself and Neil grabs his leg. He shakes his head and Andrew reluctantly sits down beside him. Astrid didn’t give permission and they had a promise to uphold.

Three months later, Andrew and Neil decide to take a pause in fostering. Mostly because it has been a rough few months, and partially because they’ve decided they want to adopt. When Astrid comes home from school, they maneuver her to couch and sit down across from her.

Neil leans forward, smiling at little in satisfaction when she doesn’t pull back. “Astrid, we love having you here. You make us so happy and you make the cats happy. So we want to ask you a very important question.”

Astrid nods. She looks a little concerned but puts a brave face on. “Okay.”

Andrew smiles a little. “Astrid, we want you to stay with us. If you’re okay with it, we want you to become part of the family, officially. Do you want that?”

“Forever? Yes, please.” She nods vigorously, eyes filling with tears. Hesitantly, she holds out her arms and looks at Andrew and Neil. Timidly, she asks, “Can I have a hug?”

Andrew is off the couch before Neil can even say yes. He slows himself down enough to avoid startling the small girl but he wraps himself around her and holds her as she cries. Neil knows that type of touch; it spells out safety.

Later, as Andrew makes dinner and Neil watches the last bit of an Exy game, Astrid sits on the couch beside him, this time, much closer. She looks at him, he pauses the game and turns to listen to her. Astrid struggles to find the words but eventually, she does.

“Remember when I asked you what home feels like?” she asks. He nods and Astrid very tentatively scoots closer. She points to his side and he nods, lifting his arm up so she can sit right up against him.

It all feels strange. Only a few weeks ago, this girl wouldn’t let them touch her. And within several hours, she’d hugged Andrew and then made the choice to snuggle up against Neil. It is incredible seeing the change happen. He knows change can happen; it happened to him. But watching it happen is surreal.

“Home feels like this,” she says. And Neil believes it.

[foxesbettingpool]

PSA - regarding prompts

I'll get to prompts probably tomorrow as I'm finishing up the last of my final exams tonight! Thanks for sending them!