#andrew and neil would laugh at the thought of the whole fate thing

[andrew-miniyard]

I just recently got back into the all for the game fandom and I heard the Andreil ring tone on the radio last week then again at my dentist's office today. I'm pretty sure I've never heard it other than when I purposely listened to it after I read the books. Seems like maybe the universe is telling me to reread AFTG...

[willowbird]

for the prompt thing andreil, 16(Au with vampire! Neil), Trope 4, dialogue 15 + if possible 39

Anonymous asked:

Vampire! Neil Au requester I meant 25 and not 15

Supernatural AU with a Vampire Neil, meet messy, “i know this looks bad, but i swear, it’s not" & “you confuse me.”

I'm not sure if this was what you were hoping for when you send me these prompts, but I rather had fun writing it so I hope you enjoy, Anon!

----

If Andrew was being completely honest, he really didn't mind his job. Sure, it wasn't all that impressive, but it also wasn't like he had someone around that he wanted to impress. It was easy, too, and no one bothered him. Well, no one bothered him because he had third shift, and the only people grocery shopping at three-am were literal vampires; and in a tiny town like Palmetto, there were really only a handful of those, none of which would ever have any reason to bother the short, scowly human stocking shelves over in the candy aisle.

Which was exactly what Andrew was doing when he heard the crash over in the refrigerated section.

Shifting the headphones off one ear, Andrew tilted his head and listened. There were a few more minor crashes, then a bumbling, scrabbling sound of things being kicked and jostled around. No screaming, though, so Andrew reaffixed the cup over his ear and got back to what he was doing.

"Cleanup by the refrigerators. Cleanup by the refrigerators."

Andrew lips moved soundlessly to Fall Out Boy, willfully ignoring the fact that refrigerators was in his section of the store and thus his responsibility should there be a call made to it.

"Cleanup by the refrigerators. Cleanup by the refrigerators."

Andrew juggled three snickers bars to the beat, tossing them onto the shelf just as the guitar solo started.

"Cleanup by the refrigerators. Cleanup -- Goddamnit Minyard get your ass over to refrigerators and clean the mess up."

Welp, he tried. With a heavy sigh, Andrew dropped the candy in his hands back into the box he'd been unloading, then gave two middle-fingers to the nearest camera.

The gruff voice over the intercom said, "Don't be a cheeky bastard, you little ingrate. Just do your damn job."

"Yeah, yeah," Andrew muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as he turned to head down the aisle. From all those crashes it was sure to be an epic mess. Maybe he wasn't as okay with this job as he thought he was.

Whatever Andrew thought he was expecting to see when he rounded the corner, it was not what he actually saw.

Because there, sitting in the middle of fallen displays and drenched in both blood and pink lemonade with an unconscious (dead?) human sprawled across his lap, was an annoyingly pretty disaster of a vampire.

Andrew stared at the tableau for a long moment, the tugged his headphones down around his neck and moved forward, surveying more of the damage as he got closer. Two of the displays near the fridges had been completely toppled, sending s'mores supplies and snack cakes as far out as lunchmeat on one side and paper goods on the other. There wasn't as much liquid on the floor as Andrew suspected there might be, the blood confined only to the vampire's actual person and only a small pool of pink lemonade leaking out of the nearest container. Upon closer inspection, the human appeared mostly unharmed and definitely alive, as he was breathing. He didn't have a drop of blood on him.

The vampire flashed fang as he gave a weak sort of smile. "I know this looks bad, but I swear, it's not."

"Uh-huh. Right." Andrew crouched down and picked up the carton of pink lemonade. It wasn't even opened properly. There were punctures in the side exactly the right size and distance to have been caused by pretty-vamp's fangs.

Andrew turned the carton to show the leaky punctures to the guilty vampire.

"I was thirsty?"

"Mm. What about the snack draped over your lap?" Andrew gestured at the guy, who was, admittedly, definitely a snack. He was significantly bigger than either himself or the vampire, with black hair and a small tattoo of a chess piece on the crest of one cheek.

The vampire did not seem to share Andrew's opinion. His pretty face screwed up in distaste, those damn-near cerulean eyes flashing with ire. "Ugh. No way. I only drink from Kevin when I'm on my deathbed."

"Is that your way of telling me that he's your boyfriend and you nip him every night, then?"

"What? No?" The blatant confusion on the vampires face had Andrew sighing. The vampire shook his head. "Look, I'm sorry about the lemonade. I was going to pay for it, but it couldn't wait." The skepticism must have been visible enough on Andrew's face for even this idiot to be able to read it because the vampire sighed and continued after just a short judgmental pause.

"I don't drink human blood. That brand of lemonade in addition to regular food can keep me going for weeks at a time without me having to go after animals either."

A vegan vampire, now Andrew had seen everything.

"Right, so why is your boyfriend passed out?"

"Not my boyfriend. The dumbass decided to go out while sick with moon-fatigue. He fainted."

Moon fatigue? Andrew looked back down at the man in the vampire's lap. That meant that 'Kevin' wasn't a human at all, but a were-something.

Instead of commenting on this, Andrew refocused on the vampire's face and said, "You sure you aren't dating?" Because it seemed pretty fated, a dumbass vampire who starves himself to the point where he has to raid the local grocery store for magical lemonade, hooking up with a dumbass were-somethingorother that resisted the change to the point where he got sick and then went out like that, thus necessitating the aforementioned situation where stupid starved vampire has to come rescue him. Speaking of... Andrew took another look at the carton in his hand and memorized the brand. There was no way he was ingesting anything that was able to keep a vampire off his bloodlust for weeks on end.

"Very," the vampire confirmed. Then he sighed and looked down at his friend for a moment before smacking him sharply enough that the sound even got a little echo. "Wake up, asshole!"

Kevin jolted awake with a lurch, then moaned and covered his face his hands. "The liiiiiights, they're so briiiiiight. Neiiiiiiiiiil where aaaaaare weeeeee?"

The vampire - Neil - rolled his eyes and gestured to the man in his lap. "See what I have to deal with?" He shook his head and shoved Kevin off his lap before standing. He was a little shaky as he rose, but managed to keep his feet. "Get up Kev. Thanks to you there's a huge ass fucking mess and if we ever want to come back again we're gonna have to help clean it up."

"Nooooooo."

"Yeeeeeees."

Kevin peaked his eye open, saw Andrew, and pointed. "Make him do it. Its basically his job!"

"I don't work here," Andrew said immediately, despite the violently orange vest he was wearing that sported both a name-tag and the logo for Palmetto Grocery.

Then a truly awful thing happened: Neil grinned at him. It was like the goddamn moon rising over an enchanted fucking lake, is what it was. Those blue eyes shined and his whole face softened. Two perfect dimples winked at him, his fangs flashing in a way that was both really sexy and kinda... cute. Even with the blood-spatter on his face the man was downright captivating.

Kevin woozily stumbling to his feet snapped Andrew out of his momentary stupor. The were looked from Neil to Andrew and sighed, shaking his head. "Tiny assholes. I am surrounded by tiny assholes." Then he turned and began to shuffle around, picking up boxes of Twinkies and stacking them in one arm.

Andrew turned back to Neil. "So if all you are here for is lemonade, why are you covered in blood?" It distantly occurred to Andrew that this probably should have been the first question he asked.

Neil shrugged. "Had to kill someone when I picked up Kevin."

Ah, well, that was that then. Andrew nodded his understanding and the two of them joined Kevin dealing with the mess. It was after Andrew had righted the display fixtures and Neil had started stacking all the boxes on them upside down that Neil looked over at him and asked, "Do you usually work nights?"

Andrew paused, blinked, and looked over at him. "Why?"

"Just curious. Kev and I are new to town."

"I am not a tour guide."

Ugh, no there it was again - that grin. This time accompanied by a short, bright laugh.

"Understood." Neil placed the last box on the top of the fixture, somehow getting it to balance on a single corner. Satisfied, he then looked back at Andrew, still fucking smiling. "I guess I'll see you around, then."

"You confuse me," Andrew said, almost without meaning to.

Another fang-flashing grin. "I'm a bit of a puzzle."

Andrew studied him for a moment, considering. He wondered if the idiot vampire even realized he was flirting with him. It sure seemed intentional - but he hesitated to give the dumbass that much credit.

"I guess I will just have to solve you then," Andrew finally said.

"Guess so." Neil then had the audacity to wink, and Andrew's ears turned pink. Intentional then, definitely intentional.

Luckily, Neil had turned to collect his friend, so probably didn't see his traitorous ears. The vampire looked back at him one more time, just long enough to raise a hand in farewell, before leading Kevin away from the refrigerators. Andrew tracked him with his eyes until they turned the corner, and were gone.

Well, if nothing else - Palmetto sure as fuck got a hell of a lot more interesting.

[aelysalthea]

The Secret Lives of Neil Josten

Summary: Neil's life has been a mystery for so long that it was all but expected that a sliver of unexpectedness would reveal itself to the Foxes on occasion. Sometimes it wasn't as unexpected as it perhaps should have been - but sometimes it most definitely was.

Rating: T

Chapter 1: Nicky’s Taste in Music

"… have no idea how my shit gets so all over the place," Nicky said into his phone, shaking his head as he shuffled along Matt's TV cabinet. Tipping his head sideways, he frowned before plucking another DVD case from the collection. His. He was pretty sure it was his. "Seriously, I don't even remember bringing this in here."

"Are you sure it's even yours?" A yawn chased the end of Erik's words, a testimony to the time difference between them. Eyeing the case in his hand – yes, it was definitely his – Nicky considered offering to hang up once more only to disregard the idea. Erik was a morning person, but he always clung to wakefulness to speak to Nicky after he'd finished his classes for the day.

"I'm sure," Nicky said. Shaking his head, he muttered more to himself than to Erik, "hell, Matt, keep tabs on your own junk and your paws off mine."

He wasn't really annoyed. More correctly, it had been a long day that was only just coming to a close, and Nicky was thoroughly sick and tired of packing. Or, even more correctly, tired of searching for his far-flung possessions. He'd never realised just how deeply he embedded himself in Fox Tower until the end of term and the inevitable clean-up came around.

It would be worth it, though. Catching a plane the next day, for the first time in years entirely by himself – it would be worth putting in the hours. In spite of his disgruntlement for Matt's oblivious thievery, Nicky couldn't help but smile at the very thought.

Piling the stack of retrieved DVD cases into his arms, Nicky rose from his knees to weave his way back across Matt and Aaron's room. What would be his room next year too if Wymack's idea took root. It would be strange not living in the same suite as Andrew, strange to the point of disconcerting, but Nicky was kind of excited for it. Andrew was better these days than he'd been on his meds, but even so, it made the prospect of yet another year at university that much more appealing.

"How's it coming along?" Erik asked sleepily as Nicky paused alongside the kitchen. Was that his mug? How the fuck had his mug gotten into Matt's room? Probably by way of Aaron, but still. Dammit, Matt. If he wasn't so nice to look at, Nicky might even resent him for it sometimes.

"I've got two suitcases packed already," Nicky said, juggling his DVDs as he struggled to hook the handle of the mug onto his pinkie finger. Fucking hell, it was dirty too. Damn Aaron too for being a slob.

"So you're nearly done?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm not even halfway yet. I've literally spent the last hour in Matt and Aaron's rooms."

Erik laughed, a dopey little sound that Nicky could picture perfectly coupled with an equally dopey smile and heavy eyes. A smile planted itself on his own face at the sound of another stifled yawn. "You and your baggage."

"Yeah, well, at least I'm leaving a good chunk of it behind this time." Nicky's smile became a little rueful. Baggage in the form of twin cousins wasn't exactly easy to manage, but it would still feel strange after working them into each and every one of his plans for years. Nicky thought he could almost miss the struggle. He wouldn't have changed anything, not for the world, but…

"You'll miss them?"

Nicky shrugged, turning towards the door. "Maybe. Definitely more than they'll miss me."

"It's only for a few months over the summer."

"I know."

"You'll call them?"

Nicky snorted. "Only to make sure Andrew hasn't killed anyone –"

Nicky cut himself off as the door to the suite swung open in his face. Jerking back a step, he lowered his phone to his shoulder, covering the mouthpiece as Matt nearly barrelled through him. "Jesus," he exclaimed, louder than even he would admit was necessary. "Slow down much?"

Matt ground to a halt before him. He had a bundle of balled-up washing in his arms, apparently deeming a laundry basket far too logical for his purposes. When a shirt slipped from his pile to the floor, his muted pout bespoke abrupt regret of his oversight.

"Dammit," Matt cursed under his breath. "I nearly made it the whole way, too." He glanced up at Nicky, gaze darting across Nicky's own armful. "You're still in here?"

Nicky shrugged. "Apparently you've stolen a whole bunch of my stuff," he said.

"Probably Aaron bringing it in," Matt said.

"Sure, sure, blame Aaron. Where is he, anyway?"

"How should I know?" Matt peered over the top of his clothes pile, eyeing his dropped shirt as he tried and failing to pick it up with his toes. "Probably with Katelyn or something."

Nicky smirked. "As if they won't be spending practically every second together over the summer."

"Yeah, well." Matt shrugged himself before finally managing to flip the shirt onto a finger with a wobbling manoeuvre and proceeding to skirt around Nicky. Like everyone else, he too had been packing too when Nicky had intruded early that. The girls' room was like a thoroughfare for the movement of bodies through the doorway and down to the cars, and Nicky was adding it next to his list. His own wasn't much better, even if just about everyone – Foxes included – were more than aware that Andrew didn't appreciate being walked in on. Last checked, he'd neglected his own packing and had been attempting to contract emphysema double time by working his way through a packet of cigarettes at the window.

Nicky didn't – and couldn't – object to Andrew smoking, but he'd admit that it would be a bonus of living in a different room to him in the coming year.

Passing down the hallway, Nicky managed to prop his phone up against his ear once more. "Are you still there?" he asked by way of a greeting return, slipping back into German as he did so. "Did you fall to sleep on me?"

"Mm," Erik mumbled in reply. "Not quite."

"Not 'not quite'. You're practically sleep talking." Nicky smiled. "Go to sleep. I'll call you later."

"No," Erik replied, the stubborn ass that he was. "I said I'd stay awake to make sure you got everything packed. You're not done yet."

"Yeah, well, maybe I – wait, hold on a sec."

"No, you can't convince me otherwise."

"No, Erik, I –"

"You're terrible at keeping yourself motivated for this kind of thing. Don't deny it, you always –"

"Shut up for a second, babe." Frozen mid-step, Nicky barely heard Erik's surprised grunt. His eyes were fixed instead upon the door into his own rooms, his ears pricked attentively. What was…?

"What is it?" Erik asked, curiosity dispelling some of the sleepiness of in his voice.

"I'm not…" Nicky trailed off as the voice rose from within once more. "Hey, I'll call you back in a second, 'kay?"

"What? What are you –? Nicky, what's –?"

"In a sec." Hanging up, Nicky tucked his phone into his armload and edged towards the doorway into Andrew's room. When he was close enough, he peered almost tentatively around the doorframe.

The room was as much of a mess as everyone else's, a battlefield of discarded clothes, possessions strewn across beanbags and every available surface, and trip hazards in the form of forgotten socks, shoes, and bags half filled. Kevin was nowhere in sight, likely still lost in the bedroom flipping through forgotten notes from the year exactly as Nicky had left him, but Andrew and Neil were in the main room. Andrew was still at the window, the stump of a cigarette between his fingers and legs extended across the desk, while Neil…

"What the hell?" Nicky whispered, mostly to himself but also hoping just a little that Andrew might answer him.

Andrew didn't seem to hear. Neither did Neil for that matter, though that was likely because he had an earbud in his ear. The iPod Nicky had demanded he be introduced to only a week ago, courtesy of Allison's bank account after they'd simultaneously unearthed the horror of Neil's lack of musical awareness, had been forced into his hands with the express command to use it well. Nicky was rather proud of the selection of tracks he'd chosen to clutter the memory bank with. He'd filled it to practically overflowing, too.

Neil was bemused, then exasperated, then proceeded to use the iPod as little as humanely possible. That was until Nicky stuffed an earbud into his ear with his own fingers and scrolled to a tune.

"Listen," he'd said. "And learn. Jesus, this is what people do in their down-time, Neil. That, or watch movies, which you still suck at doing."

"I'm fine without -"

"Say you're fine again and I'm going to have to hit you. Accept your fate quietly, child. If nothing else, you can use it when you go for a run or something."

Apparently it hadn't been as much of an outlandish idea as Neil's answering flat stare had suggested, for he did just that. Nicky was nothing if not proud; he'd always felt just a little bit gypped that Matt, for all of his admittedly skewed taste in viewing, had been able to infect Neil's movie-virgin mind before him. At least Nicky was getting a foot in the door in the music department.

He just hadn't expected that Neil had more of an ear for music than he could have anticipated. A voice for it, too.

"Those three words," Neil all but mumbled, the words just loud enough to carry the tune of the song, "are said too much…"

It was… quiet. Calm. A little detached yet unexpectedly lilting. Neil trailed in and out of truly singing, murmuring words as he flicked through the distraction of whatever he was doing. Nicky wasn't even sure what it was; something that involved papers, shuffling some while crumpling others. It didn't really matter, because Nicky didn't care. He didn't care one bit, because –

"… would you lie with me and just forget the world…" Neil sang, the gentle rise and fall of his voice vague as he held out a paper and frowned at it before tossing it onto the pile beside him.

Neil can sing? Nicky shot a glance towards Andrew where he sat, still gazing out the window. At Nicky's wordless, barely audible bid for attention, or maybe feeling his affixed attention, glanced towards him with hooded eyes. Unblinking, he didn't say a word but raised a finger and pointed it at Nicky as nothing if not warning. The meaning couldn't be clearer:

Don't say a word.

Nicky didn't understand. He didn't really know why, how, or when Neil had started to sing, absentmindedly disregarding a watching world or perhaps oblivious to his own singing it entirely with the tune playing in his ear. How he'd been able to hide it for so long was even more frustrating. Nicky always seemed to stumble across such nuggets of gold when it came to Neil. That he could sing and Nicky was only just finding out now? It was far from satisfying but rather only served to make him wonder what else Neil had overlooked in telling them.

Edging into the room, Nicky lowered his stack of DVDs to the floor. He took a step towards Neil, opened his mouth to ask, then flinched as a pen bounced off his cheek.

Hissing, Nicky shot Andrew a frown. It slid off Andrew's blank-faced stare like water from a duck's back. His only comment was to flick his finger in Nicky's direction once more much as he'd flicked the pen, an even more pointed demand that required verbal instruction even less than his previous one had.

Nicky pouted. He glanced at Neil again where he was sitting, slumped in a beanbag and singing to himself as he worked his way through his papers. He shot another look at Andrew, met Andrew's flat stare, then gave a huff before backing through the door he'd just stepped through. He couldn't quite withhold an abrupt grin, however, as he all but bumped into Allison striding down the hallway in the direction of the girls' room.

"Watch it," Allison said without heat, striding past him.

Nicky barely heard her. Sparing a glance into his rooms, lingering just a moment to catch a final chime of Neil's poetic murmur, he eased the door closed behind him. "Allison," he hissed darting after her and flapping a hand at her in a grasp for immediate and absolutely necessary attention. "Oi, Allison, guess what? You're not gonna believe this…"

Neil was sure he'd seen this page before. Hadn't he already gotten rid of it? He thought he had. Maybe not. Maybe he should just – no, he'd keep that one. Just in case. The urge to toss anything that didn't have immediate value was an instinct that he'd had for as long as he could remember, a part-and-parcel of having to carry everything he owned in a single bag. It wasn't like that anymore, and he wouldn't. Especially not after Kevin's severe talking-to.

"Don't toss out anything you might use next year," he'd said, reaching into the bin that Neil had just discarded his notes into. "This is valuable study material. It could save your academic career if you take a follow-up unit."

"I'll just write more if I need to," Neil had replied.

"No," Kevin had barked, almost angry in his condescension. "Don't make more work for yourself than you need to. It'll cut into your practice time, and we both know that's unacceptable."

Kevin had dumped the disorderly stack in his hands and all but forced Neil into a beanbag to 'sort through it properly' before disappearing into his room with his own school notes to do was the same. Scowling after him, Neil had begrudgingly followed suit. He considered it more than a little unfair that Andrew wasn't forced to do the same, but then, Andrew probably didn't need to. He more than likely didn't even take notes at all.

Winding an earbud into his ear, Neil flicked the iPod Nicky had given him onto the first song he glanced at. He didn't know much music, but Nicky was apparently attempting to remedy that perceived inadequacy. What had been an affront at first had turned into something not so bad; it wasn't a distraction as it could have been, and even proved to be comfortable accompaniment sometimes. Even better when Neil could focus on tune and lyrics to the abandonment of unproductive thoughts. Provided he was still aware enough of his surroundings, it was almost pleasant.

Listening was easy. Listening and learning was easy, and the words of the song he'd absently picked rose to the fore on his tongue before Neil could think to withhold them. It was just like picking up a language, really: listen, repeat in his mind, and mimic. It didn't even take conscious awareness to do it.

Almost like with Mom, Neil thought distractedly as he frowned at another page of notes. He was sure if he'd seen that one already too. Was he going through his 'to keep' pile? But no, he surely would have tossed that one, wouldn't he? Why did he need to keep repeated columns of Spanish nouns? Words were easy to remember. Mom never pulled me up for singing along in the car, either, even though she got pissed about so many other things. I never thought to ask why, but…

The tug of the earbud from his ear had Neil pausing in his note-shuffling. Glancing to his side where he hadn't even noticed Andrew lower himself to into a crouch beside, he cocked his head. Andrew ignored him in favour of flicking through Neil's iPod, the stunted end of a cigarette balanced between the fingers of his scrolling hand. Neil dropped an elbow onto his knee, watching and waiting. Maybe he shouldn't listen to the music so loudly if he didn't even notice when someone approached him. He'd thought that leaving one ear free was enough, but apparently not.

"Did you want it?" Neil asked, though he already knew the answer. He'd asked before when Andrew had done just the same thing and received the same answer.

Andrew didn't quite shake his head, but he glanced up at Neil and met his gaze in a clearer answer as he handed the iPod back to him. Neil shrugged, accepted it, and pressed the earbud back into his ear. He turned back to his notes, began the arduous task of flicking once more, and listened with half an ear to the opening notes of the song Andrew had chosen. A cover, he noticed, but still distinct.

The Sound of Silence was ironically fitting as Andrew's choice. Oddly enough, he didn't complain when Neil sang either.

***

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!!! If you’ve got a second I’d love to hear your thoughts. Please feel free to leave a comment or even just say hi over on my AO3! xx

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

Back to the Start, part 9

All For the Game/The Foxhole Court, post-canon.  A few moments of softness this time around, but nothing’s ever easy with the Foxes.  Read it on AO3 if you choose.  Read Part 1.  Part 2.  Part 3.  Part 4.   Part 5.  Part 6.  Part 7.   Part 8.  I live for your feedback, so likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Half of Andrew was in a hospital room in Boston; the other half was standing in a parking lot next to his GS, a bruised and battered yet unscarred Neil reaching under the driver’s seat.  Somehow the auburn hair seemed a surprise.  His mind skipped to another memory, or perhaps another part of the same one.  The roof of the dorm, the icy bite of wind, and Neil looking at him with that expression in his eyes while Andrew was swamped with fury and disbelief.  ‘The next time someone comes for you, stand down and let me deal with it.  Do you understand?’  ‘If it means losing you, then no.’  Four years ago, he thought.  But something was happening and he thought it was now; the doctor’s voice was sharp, and Neil was leaving.  Andrew tore his eyes away from Neil’s retreating back to find Aaron looking at him calculatingly.  He didn’t know if that was another memory.  ‘I can’t trust them to bring you back.’  He slipped his thumb under his armband and dug the nail in between his scars to help find the present.

“It’s not that we’re not willing,” Aaron was saying, “it’s just that we’re gone ten, twelve hours a day.  We can’t be there for him.”

“Then we need to decide if we’re going to do a facility, or a live-in nurse.  Given your brother’s needs, that might be the best option.”

“Why is Palmetto off the table?” Aaron asked.  The doctors exchanged looks.  “I’m serious.  Wouldn’t it be helpful for him to be in familiar surroundings?”

“I understand why you might be attached to Mr. Josten -”

“Me?”  Aaron laughed.  “No.  I can barely tolerate the bastard.  But that doesn’t mean he’s not right about what’s best for Andrew.”

The doctors fell silent and Aaron looked at Andrew.  “You have an opinion here?”

“Just want to make sure I’m clear here,” Andrew said, gesturing at his head.  “My options are go to a nursing home -”

“A rehab center.”

“Because that sounds so much better.  Okay, I can go to a rehab center, I can go to my apartment with a live-in nurse, or I can drive 14 hours to South Carolina.  Yes?”  The doctor nodded.  “South Carolina.”

She looked startled at his emphatic answer.  “Mr. Minyard.  Andrew.  I’m not sure you understand the benefits to staying nearby.  You will continue to need monitoring and care.”

“And there aren’t neurologists in South Carolina?  Look, I might have head trauma but I’m not an idiot.”

Dr. Martin started to say something then stopped and studied him for a long moment.  “I know you and Mr. Josten are close -”

Aaron laughed and everybody looked at him.  “Sorry,” he said, directing the apology at Andrew before looking at Dr. Martin.  “I’m just wondering if you would use that wording if I was in that bed and we were talking about Katelyn. Though of course if it was Katelyn you probably would’ve let her stay.  Anyway.” He made a shooing gesture.  “Carry on.”

“You kicked Neil out,” Andrew said before the doctor could reply, “so you don’t get to blame him for my decision.”

There was more blustering but Andrew stared her into silence.  After a long look between the two doctors, Dr. Martin started talking about necessary arrangements.  Aaron gave her Abby’s contact information and the doctors turned to go.  “When will I be discharged?” Andrew asked before they could leave.

“If you keep up like this, and can get onto oral medication for your headaches, tomorrow or Monday.”

Andrew nodded and the doctors left, no doubt sighing in relief.  Aaron texted something then looked up at Andrew.  “I’m surprised you let them do that.  Kick Neil out.”

Andrew shrugged, debating whether to answer.  “I was remembering something.”  Andrew saw no need to clarify that sometimes it was hard to differentiate the past and the present, and Aaron didn’t ask.  

The girlfriend poked her head in.  “Um, Neil went for a walk,” she said.  “I texted him but he hasn’t replied yet.”

Aaron snorted.  “He’s probably off running somewhere.”  Andrew wasn’t sure why his stomach clenched, why his fingers dug into the blanket.

“I figured.  If he’s not back soon I’ll go look for him,” the girlfriend said.  “Did you guys work everything out with the doctors?”

“He’s going back to Palmetto,” Aaron said, and she smiled, her whole face lighting up.  

“Good, oh, that’s great, actually.”  She snuggled back in with Aaron in the chair and they started talking about their physiology classes.  Andrew half listened, half looked at the magazine the nurse had given him, pretending that his eyes weren’t constantly straying towards to door looking for a flash of red.  

*****

It only took one rep of running all twelve flights of stairs and one near miss of almost crashing into a distracted intern for Neil’s mind to quiet.  He walked around in the lobby, staying away from the windows and the cluster of paparazzi he could see outside.  His phone buzzed in his pocket for the dozenth time and he pulled it out, then sat down to go through the texts. Several from Allison, the daily check-in from Nicky, two from Matt, one from Dan, and this exasperated one from Robin.  He replied to hers first, giving her an exercise to run the arrogant assholes through to check their egos. Technically they didn’t have practice today, but he knew with the championships coming that his core crew would be at the court anyway.  Jack might have been a dick but at least he was devoted to the sport.

He scrolled through his contact list until he found Andrew’s defense line coach. He stared at the number for a long minute before pressing it.  Coach Estrejena picked up on the first ring, and Neil’s phone buzzed at the same time.  “Coach, it’s Neil Josten.”

There was a brief pause, then, “Josten.  Is Minyard able to have visitors now?”

“I haven’t asked him.  That’s not why I’m calling.”

“Damnit, Josten.”

“I know, I know.  But I need to come get Andrew’s stuff from the stadium.”

“Er, that’s not a great idea right now.”

Neil sighed.  “Press?”

“Yeah.  You could’ve warned us, you know.”

“Sorry, Coach, but I really couldn’t.”

Neil could hear Estrejena breathing through the phone.  “I guess I get that. Okay.  Well, how about I come over with his stuff after practice, and you take the next few hours to find out if he’s up for visitors.  And by find out, I mean back the hell off and let me go in and talk to him.”

“Only if he says it’s okay.”

“Seriously?  I just need to talk to him.”

“I don’t give a shit about what you think you need, Coach.  Sorry.”

“You’re a real asshole, Josten.”

“That’s one word for it.  I’ll see you this afternoon.”

His phone buzzed again just as he was hanging up.  The first message was from Katelyn, that the doctors were done dictating Andrew’s fate; the second was from Aaron.  Where tf are you?

He set his phone face down on his knee for a minute that turned into ten as he watched the people coming and going around him.  Rationally he knew that delaying learning the decision would not impact the actual outcome but for a while it seemed easier just not to know.  Finally he flipped his phone over.  Lobby.  I’ll come up

Don’t bother the OT just came in I’ll come down and get a coffee

Neil wondered what the OT was while he waited.  Aaron and Katelyn appeared and he joined them in their walk to the coffee shop.  “So he’s going with you,” Aaron said as soon as he joined them.  Neil was startled to feel prickling in his eyes and he looked down.  “Yeah, he didn’t even hesitate.”  

Katelyn gave his arm a squeeze and he nodded and cleared his throat.  “Glad that’s settled.  What’s the OT?”

“Occupational Therapist,” Katelyn answered.  “That Ben guy?”

Neil stopped dead, surprising the others.  “I don’t know who that is.”  There was a weird pounding noise and muffled yelling that Neil could barely hear over the roaring in his ears.

“Don’t worry, the guy’s cool,” Aaron said.  “He gets it.  He’s making sure Andrew can do like, basic things before he goes.  Showering and stuff.”

“You left him alone with some guy he doesn’t know?” The pounding got louder.

“It’s fine, Neil,” Katelyn said.  Neil was already turning towards the stairs.

Aaron made an exasperated noise.  “Neil, Andrew basically - ugh, fuck these people.”

Neil looked over to see that the pounding and yelling was the paparazzi banging on the windows.  He hadn’t realized they had gotten that close to the entrance.  Aaron was already moving to the door and people lifted cameras to their faces in a wave of movement.  He strode through the automatic doors and yelled, “Wrong fucking Minyard, assholes!” before spinning on his heel and coming back.  Katelyn covered her mouth in her hands, her shoulders shaking; Neil wondered if he was supposed to do something for her.  Aaron got back to them with a disgusted expression and Katelyn dropped her hands, revealing bright, sparkling laughter.  Neil’s opinion of her went up several notches and he couldn’t help but grin.

Aaron went on like nothing had happened.  “Anyway, Andrew basically booted us out.  He didn’t want us there when he was showering.”

“I don’t care, I’m going back up there.”  

Aaron just shrugged in response.  “Do you want anything?” Katelyn asked.  Neil shook his head and headed towards the stairs.

Andrew’s door was closed and he practically burst through.  He could hear the shower running and there was a man in scrubs standing in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the jamb holding a towel.  He flashed Neil a big smile when he came in.  “You must be the boyfriend, huh?” he said, holding out his hand.  Neil stared at it in confusion.  “I’m Ben, I’m making sure your man doesn’t kill himself trying to shave or some shit.”

Neil took his hand hesitantly.  “Hi.  Neil.”

“Yeah, I know, man.  I heard from one of the residents you two are some big time athletes or something huh?”

“Or something.”

Ben gave an easy laugh.  “I’m not really into exy, more of a basketball guy myself.  But he says you’re hella good, I’ll have to check out one of your games.”  The water cut off.  “Hey, man, how’s it going in there?  Ready for a towel?”  When he got the affirmative he tossed the towel up, Neil presumed into the shower.  “Now, it’s your choice, man.  I can let you put a hospital johnny on yourself, or I can give you some sweats but you’ll have to let me make sure you can put the pants on safely.”

“Fuck off, I can put pants on,” came Andrew’s voice.

“Yeah, man, everybody says that but then you lose your balance, hit your head on the toilet or some shit, and you’re stuck here for another month and I lose my job, right?”  There was a long pause.  “So what is it, sweats or the dress?”

“Give me the fucking sweats.”  

Ben glanced at Neil.  “I’m gonna close this door partway, okay?”  There was some low muttering and Ben’s booming laugh, then the door swung open. “Now, you wanna shave or are you going to go for some hipster bald-with-a-beard look?”

“My choices are cancer patient or balding hipster.  Fantastic.”

“I don’t know,” Neil interjected.  “I think your beard and hair are growing back at about the same rate.  You can go full-on hipster in a few months.”  Ben laughed at the flat look Andrew gave him and Neil couldn’t fully bite back his grin.

Andrew held out his hand and Ben dropped a razor in it.  Neil had watched him shave plenty of times before; for some reason he always kind of liked it.  It was one of the things Andrew was meticulous about, unlike Neil who would run the razor haphazardly over his face while making coffee or getting dressed and was always finding random spots he’d missed.  And apparently this was one thing that hadn’t been lost; he always started on the left side and worked his way across, then down over his throat; always the same pattern, the same facial expressions, the same flicks of his wrist over the edge of his jaw.

“Staring,” Andrew said when their eyes met in the mirror.  Neil didn’t look away and Andrew returned to the task at hand, though his eyes kept flicking back to Neil’s.

“Congratulations,” Ben said when he took the razor back.  “You can officially shower, put pants on, and not cut your throat with a razor.”

“It’s an electric razor.”

“No kidding.”  

They ended up walking laps afterwards, mostly because Andrew was bored and Ben had a little time.  Aaron and Katelyn had returned and stayed in the room to study.  Neil walked silently along with them, surprised when they began debating the merits of Isaac Asimov.  He knew Andrew was widely read, despite his odd aversion to libraries, but he had never heard anyone argue that Asimov’s books were all inherently sexist before.  Then again, he had never read Asimov.  At least he’d heard of him.  He smiled to himself; it reminded him of debates they’d had with Renee those first couple years at PSU.

Back at the room Ben promised to bring by a book before he left for the night. Katelyn and Aaron were piled in the chair again and Neil eyeballed the window ledge until Andrew scooted over in the bed, making room.  He rolled his eyes at Neil’s unspoken question and Neil settled in next to him, leaving one leg off so there were a few inches of space between them.  He pulled out his phone and went back through his texts.  “Hey, Allison sent us Coach’s press conference from yesterday.”  

He pressed play and held the phone so Andrew could see easily.  It was…a disaster.  All the reporters wanted to know was what the situation was with Andrew and Neil.  They tried a dozen different ways of asking but Wymack just stared at them and asked if they had any questions related to exy.  Eventually they moved onto the upcoming game, and everything seemed to be going smoothly until one reporter asked, “What do you have to say about Josten’s tirade against the reporter?”

“I think the kid summed it up pretty well.  Any more questions about the championships?  No?  Good.”  He turned and walked away to a chorus of his name.

Aaron had been listening and he shook his head at the end.  “I pity whoever is your PR person next year, Josten.”

Andrew twisted his fingers in Neil’s sleeve and Neil almost jolted at the contact “Your team is going to have to double the salary of whoever draws that short straw.”

“What, like you’re any better?  You had to have something in your contract demanding you sign autographs.”

That subtle flicker of humor lit Andrew’s eyes and Neil had to fight the urge to ask to kiss him.  “At least I’m a silent pain in the ass.  You always give them a sound bite that gets blasted all over the internet.”

Neil shrugged and looked over at Aaron.  “At least I didn’t just call them a bunch of assholes.”  Katelyn started laughing again and Neil joined in until Andrew’s fingers twisting tighter demanded the story.  Neil and Katelyn told it in tandem and Andrew shook his head at the end of it.

“You’re all idiots,” he said, but his knee ended up against Neil’s and Neil couldn’t have stopped smiling if he tried.

*****

Coach Estrejena showed up near the end of visiting hours, not that those had been enforced once the entire week.  Neil had warned Andrew during the afternoon, but he found he didn’t really care either way.  He remembered his defense line coach, as well as the rest of his team, at least superficially.  

Neil had gotten to his feet at the knock on the door.  The coach set a duffel down at the foot of the bed and surveyed the room, his eyes lingering on the girlfriend in a way that had Aaron bristling.  “It’s a right party in here, huh?” he said finally.

The girlfriend introduced herself and Aaron nervously and the coach had the good sense to look at Andrew before something unpleasant happened.  Well, unpleasant for him.  Andrew thought it might be rather amusing if he continued to push Aaron’s buttons.  Everyone had always thought he was the only dangerous Minyard; he wondered if that was still true, or if Aaron also had to live under that cloud of suspicion.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” Coach said, and Andrew refocused.  “And that your guard dog let me in.”

“Why did you want to see me?” Andrew asked, sure he knew the answer.  He wondered if Coach would beat around the bush or not.

“Just wanted to make sure you were okay.  That was a hell of a hit.”  But he wouldn’t quite meet Andrew’s eyes and Neil picked up on it.

“What the fuck are you trying to say?” Neil asked.

Estrejena gave him a scathing look that Neil met with his own version.  “Minyard, call off your dog.”

“No,” Andrew said.  “He’s quite useful at cutting through bullshit.”

There was silence in the room.  Aaron leaned forward in the chair, looking from the coach to Andrew.  Neil stood poised at Andrew’s shoulder, braced to throw Estrejena out completely if needed.  The coach may have been six inches taller and a good fifty pounds heavier, but Andrew’s money was on Neil if it came down to it.

As expected, the coach broke first.  “We’re just wondering what the doctors have told you.”

“They’ve told me a lot of things.  What specific information are you looking for?”  He knew it, he knew it, but he wanted to make him say it.

Estrejena looked at the floor before dragging his eyes up to Andrew’s cheek.  “Are you expected to make a full recovery?”

Neil exploded, and Estrejena took a big step back.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  Are you seriously asking if he’s going to play again a week after he got a skull fracture on your fucking court?”

Aaron was on his feet, and Andrew couldn’t tell if he was planning to stop Neil or help him if he went after the coach.  Estrejena held up his hands like he was warding off a wild animal.

“I just…We need to know if we need to look for a new goalie for next season.”

And there it was.

The past two days in the quiet moments, the question had been chasing him.  He had never had Neil’s all-consuming passion for the game, nor Kevin’s unwavering dedication.  Though his memories of the past five years were scant, several of them involved him sitting silent in the bleachers while they perfected their game; eating every damn thing Kevin told him to avoid; mocking them for their single-mindedness, especially Neil.  He had fought every attempt by those two idiots to drag him over to that dark side.  

He hadn’t succeeded.

Not that he would ever be like them, and let the sport take over every waking moment.  But there was satisfaction in being the best.  There was pride in being the one that everyone on the team looked to be the final defense.  So help him, he was almost happy on that court, when the racquet reverberated with the force of the ball, when he could read the striker’s eyes and beat them to the corner, when he slammed a pass down the court to where only his striker could get it.  Where only Neil could get it.  

There are three things in the world I don’t want to lose.  It was so loud in his head at first he was afraid he had said it aloud.  After all, some manifestation of all three things were in this room right now.  He looked from the coach to Aaron then slowly up at Neil.  The expression in those crystal eyes told him that he already knew.

[bramlouisgreenfeld]

57 + andreil?

from this list of prompts - please don’t send more!

The first time Neil meets Andrew, there isn’t any intention behind it. Or rather, there’s no intent to go out and meet new people. Neil doesn’t intend to catch someone’s eye and share a joke from across a room. And he definitely doesn’t intend to be rescued from his own drunk self by the same stranger.

Matt seems kind of alarmed to see Neil with a stranger - probably because Neil openly resisted getting to know Matt, the least threatening person in the world, probably, and now he’s in a decidedly angry-looking stranger’s lap on a curb. “Neil, I left you alone for five minutes, how did you make everything go wrong in that time?”

Neil doesn’t groan. He doesn’t. “Bad luck follows me?”

The blonde guy doesn’t laugh. Neil’s not sure he said anything. Neil really doesn’t know why he’s the one to follow Neil out of the bar when the world started spinning.

Matt laughs, a little. “Not entirely unlucky. You’ve made a friend?” Neil’s sure he’s sizing the other guy up, making sure he has no untoward intentions with Neil, but he doesn’t see it. All he sees is cement and surprisingly nice shoes (not his own). 

“Andrew,” the guy offers, not unkindly. In fact, there’s not much of anything in his tone.

“Right,” Matt says, sounding somehow unsure. “Well, thanks for helping Neil. He’s kind of a danger magnet. I should, uh, get him back home.” Matt’s voice is hesitant, and even through the fog in Neil’s mind, he knows why.

“It’s Dan’s night,” he protests weakly. “Go back in. I’m fine.”

“Neil,” Matt says, and his voice is as hard as it always gets when Neil lies. “You freak out when I pat your shoulder and you’re in this guy’s lap. Can you even stand up? Don’t- don’t try it, man.”

Neil tries it. The world shakes, and he ends up back in Andrew’s lap, with only the addition of a hand on his back that might be for stability or maybe just for ease. Andrew seems nonplussed by all of these events. Any other time, Neil would be full of questions for Andrew. Any less drunk, and he’d ask them. Maybe it’s good you met this way, some self-preservation instinct suggests, but Neil isn’t sure this state is good for anything.

“Dan won’t mind,” Matt says, and Neil knows he’s right. “It’s part of parenthood, eh?”

So Matt starts to pull Neil up, and wraps an arm securely around his waist despite the height difference. 

Neil was never really taught manners, but something sticks out anyway. He looks at Andrew with all the focus he can muster, trying to commit his face to memory, and says, “Thank you,” carefully. Andrew doesn’t respond, or maybe Neil just doesn’t notice, and then he’s gone.

It’s months before the second meeting. Some part of Neil just denied that his recollection of the night was correct, and Matt clearly decided that any kind of joke about Neil’s lack of alcohol tolerance wouldn’t be funny, so Andrew had faded into a type of story to Neil.

It wasn’t rare, when he was younger, to imagine a bad situation had happened even slightly nicer, and the influence of alcohol gave everything a softer edge. It wasn’t easy to believe in the kindness of strangers. (And Andrew had been so hard to place; his mannerisms didn’t seem quite human in a way Neil associates with the people he’s been meeting recently.)

Then Neil’s meeting up with an old acquaintance, Kevin - “You must repair old grudges,” his therapist insisted - and his heart is rising into his throat in a way that feels like it might trigger his gag reflex and he can’t stop tapping strange patterns into his thigh. But of course Kevin wanted to meet at the stadium, some type of neutral ground, and they’re not alone which is almost comforting until Kevin isn’t the only familiar face.

It’s a reprieve in the awkward conversation when Neil places the face immediately and says, “Andrew,” incapable of thinking of something else to say.

“Neil,” Andrew responds, almost mockingly.

“You know each other?” Kevin says, looking between them, and there’s more interest in his eyes than at anything Neil had said previously. Andrew might be an angel in sweaty sports gear.

“No,” Neil says, because they don’t.

Andrew shrugs and moves on, presumably to the showers. 

Neil thinks this might be the fates’ way of saying he should know Andrew. (He’s never been sure if he trusts the fates.)

Neil isn’t good at interpreting what constitutes friendship, and Kevin’s definitions of friendship are unorthodox at best. Neil suddenly realises, after two months of awkward conversations over bad smoothies and attempts at learning lacrosse, that he might be the closest thing Kevin has to a best friend.

(His long-suffering therapist asks him to define what a friend has to be, again. Neil’s never been sure. The definition seems to be different for everyone. “Someone who wants to spend time with you?” He guesses.)

Andrew’s nearby in most of their meetings, at least at the beginning or end of them, but he doesn’t so much as make eye contact with Neil, so he doesn’t count any of them as the third time he meets Andrew.

Then he goes to meet Kevin, revelling in how it’s comfortable, somehow, and he finds Andrew tossing his keys up and down instead of Kevin.

“Andrew,” Neil says, surprised enough not to thing of a more apt greeting. He’s not sure if he’s ever said a word to Andrew that isn’t his name.

“Neil,” Andrew replies, mockingly. “Get in.”

“I think you’re supposed to offer me candy first,” Neil says after a beat. He supposes you should accept help from your guardian angel, but if Neil Josten has a guardian angel, they’ve been spectacularly bad at their job thus far. “Where’s Kevin?”

Andrew looks around dramatically. “He’s not here?”

“It’s hard to miss the 6″4 human incarnation of a lacrosse stick,” Neil replies, trying to match Andrew’s bland tone. Andrew doesn’t seem impressed by it. He doesn’t seem impressed by much.

“He’s 6″2,” Andrew says. Neil shrugs.

There’s silence. Neil settles in to wait for Andrew to answer; he doubts he’s actually more stubborn than Andrew, and he’s certainly worse at silence, but Andrew has motivation for getting Neil in the car and he’s counting on that outweighing his contrary nature.

“Kevin can’t make it. I’m his replacement.” Andrew gets in the car, somehow expecting that answer to suffice.

Neil doesn’t want to let it slide, but Andrew’s intriguing enough that he gets in the car anyway. “You’re going to teach me lacrosse?”

Andrew scoffs. “One-track minds, both of you.”

Neil isn’t sure he cares about lacrosse at all, except as a way to get to Kevin, who’s the closest thing he has to a childhood friend, but it doesn’t seem like the time to bring that up. “What did you mean then?”

“You’re here because you had one friend you could call your own, no? Kevin makes that number a lovely, even two,” Andrew holds up two fingers in a shadow of Kevin’s tattoo. “He thinks three might suit you better.”

Neil blinks. “He’s… matchmaking?”

“Apparently,” Andrew says, starting the car. Neil understands that this is supposed to end the conversation.

“You let him?”

Andrew looks at Neil for a long second before pulling out. “Kevin doesn’t have as much influence over my decisions as he’d like to think.”

Neil isn’t sure what to make of that. But he thinks he has time to figure it out.

The next times he meets Andrew aren’t significant, Neil supposes. Sometimes it’s with Kevin, sometimes it’s Andrew seeking him out, and sometimes Neil seeks Andrew out. Sometimes they don’t talk at all. Sometimes Neil asks questions, and sometimes Andrew answers them. Most times, every second of eye contact feels like an exchange of secrets.

Matt convinces Neil to invite his ‘new friends’ to their Thanksgiving dinner. “Okay, dad,” Neil replies, but he sends them texts anyway. It’s not a bad idea.

“None of that lip,” Matt says with a point and an affected tone, but Neil isn’t sure who he’s trying to emulate.

Andrew says Thanksgiving isn’t his thing, which isn’t a surprise, and Kevin won’t come if Andrew doesn’t. Neil types and deletes a few answers to that, and Andrew must get tired of the three dots on his screen, because he types a second message: penny for your thoughts?

It’s amazing how well Andrew can construe sarcasm through text. But it gives Neil an idea.

Can I bargain for you to come?

There’s no response for a few minutes, though Neil knows Andrew’s seen the message, and he can practically hear Andrew’s interest pique. what will you offer me?

Neil still isn’t sure what makes Andrew tick, even though he’s apparently the only one so far to do it. He holds his breath as he sends, What do you want?

Three dots. I’ll decide later. we’ll come.

And they do. Matt doesn’t know them enough to know that Neil’s managed a minor miracle in achieving this. Kevin does, but he’s almost used to it, now. “Damn it, Josten,” he says, still. “I was counting on getting wasted on seasonal spirits in front of the TV like normal. You know, follow my traditions.”

“You’re welcome,” Neil replies. “Someone needs to save you from yourself.”

Kevin snorts and leaves Neil to greet Matt. Neil blinks. “Kevin knows manners?”

“Doubtful,” Andrew says. “But in theory, I suppose so.”

Matt corners Neil after a while. “I didn’t realise Andrew was- Andrew.”

Neil frowns. “I told you.”

“You told me you’d met Kevin’s friend, Andrew. It’s not an uncommon name.”

Neil shrugs. He’d thought it had been obvious enough.

Matt snorts in response. “Yeah, of course, this would seem normal to you. Whatever, I can’t stay mad at you.”

Their small apartment is full of Matt’s friends, mostly, but it’s still no surprise that he gets separated from Andrew and Kevin. Matt and Dan joke that they’re Neil’s parents, but Neil often feels as though their whole group had adopted him. It’s not an unpleasant feeling.

His eyes still seek Andrew out, who talks to Kevin or no one at all. He doesn’t seem to resent his time here, or the decision to acquiesce to Neil’s request, but Neil thinks his original statement that Thanksgiving wasn’t his thing was probably accurate.

After their dinner - “The traditional Thanksgiving pizza assortment!” Matt proclaimed - Neil waits for everyone to collapse on a sofa, their attentions diverted, before he slowly wraps his hand around Andrew’s wrist. It’s slow in an attempt to ask permission without words, but still firm enough that Andrew can feel it through the layers.

Andrew’s eyes meet Neil’s. There’s no question in the eyes, but there’s the familiar interest. Neil tugs slightly, and Andrew follows him out of their apartment and up in silence.

He doesn’t talk when they reach the roof, but Neil hadn’t expected him to. Andrew settles himself on the edge, and now that Neil’s extracted the party guest who most clearly didn’t want to be there, he’s not sure on the etiquette. He should probably go back to the party, but something in Andrew tugs him closer. He won’t be missed this soon, he thinks, and settles down next to Andrew.

Andrew doesn’t react. He smokes a cigarette almost down to the filter in the cold air and doesn’t look at Neil.

Finally, he turns to study Neil. He doesn’t meet Neil’s eyes; his stare is intense and searching, but he seems to find what he’s looking for when they finally make eye contact. “Why did you bring me up here?”

“You didn’t want to be there.”

“And I want to be here?” Andrew asks. 

Neil shrugs. He wasn’t sure Andrew would follow him until he did. The point was to offer Andrew the choice.

Andrew lets out a long breath of smoke, and says without turning his head, “Ask me again.”

Neil blinks. He knows if he asked for clarification, he wouldn’t get any, so he lets the question hang until he figures it out - “What do you want?” Maybe he’ll get the three dots answer rather than the second option Andrew eventually sent.

Andrew nods once, but it’s not in approval of Neil asking the right question. He flicks the cigarette off the side. “I see the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

It’s a different conversation. Maybe. It’s best to wait until Andrew gets to his point.

(Neil wants to tell him he’s wrong. He doesn’t think Andrew misses anything.) 

Andrew places a palm on the left side of Neil’s fact, covering where a 3 might have been, in a different lifetime. “Tell me this isn’t what you were offering.”

Neil isn’t sure what he’s referring to, but he says the truth, “Anything you’d ask.”

(It’s not smart, he’s sure. But Andrew- there’s a backbone to him, a rigidity that suggests a strong moral code, even if it’s one that’s not the normal one. He’s fair, and he’ll hold to his word and his friends, no matter what. Neil thinks he’s the latter.)

(Even if Andrew doesn’t trust himself, Neil will.)

Andrew grips tighter, his hold becoming firm instead of barely there. “Don’t.”

“Don’t ask me to lie,” Neil says, feeling the slight upturn to his lips, an ugly smirk starting to form.

“Don’t give me free rein,” Andrew says, spite curling his voice. “There’s a trail of people who’d rush to assure you that’s a bad idea.”

“You won’t take something I’m not willing to give,” Neil says. Andrew’s eyes narrow slightly, picking up that the emphasis is on him not taking rather than Neil being willing to give.

“You are insufferable,” Andrew says, and leans in.

“Where’d you go?” Matt whispers, when Neil fits into his space next to him on the couch. “You missed the first half of the film.”

“Smoke break,” Neil answers, looking to Andrew at Kevin’s side. He’s pretty sure that no one will notice that Andrew’s hair is messier than it was a half hour ago, but he knows the cause and he smiles.

[turnsoutnoonewasexaggerating]

Part Nine of The Sam Diaries

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10507836/chapters/26359653

Andrew Minyard has never experienced luck. He doesn’t believe in it; luck, like destiny and fate and religion, seems to be based on the fanciful notion that there’s some kind of higher power that just really, really fucking hated Andrew as a child. He doesn’t much like the idea, though he supposes now the word will always remind him of the first words he spoke to Neil.

Regardless of whether he believes in luck or not, it seems the bad kind is intent on fucking up this day as much as possible. Neil’s close to a breakdown beside him, so the last thing they need is an interruption before they can get to their apartment.

“Are you Andrew or Aaron Minyard?” Andrew and Neil share a look trying to decide whether to turn around to face what is undoubtedly another stupid member of the press, or just say fuck it and run home. If Neil was on his own, he knew exactly what option he’d choose, but Andrew had never loved running like Neil did, and they’d had that whole meeting with PR…

They turn.

To both their surprise, though neither shows it, the person behind them is not a member of the press, but a woman with hunched shoulders, sleeves pulled over her hands and a wary look in her eyes. She must have been around the same age as the two of them, but the careful distance she keeps between them, and her wide-blown pupils make her look much younger. When Andrew just stares at her blankly, Neil following his lead, the woman huffs a sigh through her nose.

“I don’t want any trouble but I just thought… Well what are the chances of bumping into either one of you? I had to say something.” Neil narrows his eyes, something he’d been told by Dan made the freshman when he’d first become captain shit themselves. He is not in the mood for this crap right now. She doesn’t look like a die-hard followed-your-career-from-college Exy fan, especially as she’s said nothing about Neil, doesn’t even seem to recognise him, but he can’t think of another reason why she’d be looking for Andrew or Aaron. Andrew still doesn’t say anything, but Neil can almost hear the gears in Andrew’s mind turning, coming to the same conclusions as him. The woman does the same exasperated sigh again and holds her hands up in defeat. “Look, if you’re Andrew I want to say I’m sorry. I don’t know what you went through other than him, whether you went through anything else, but I know he was definitely bad enough.” The woman gives a small laugh that has very little humour in it as Andrew goes stiff. No, no, no… “And if you’re Aaron, I want to say thanks. I know you were doing it for your brother, but you killed more than just one man’s monster that day.”

There was only one man Aaron had killed.

Only one monster Aaron had destroyed.

The woman turns to leave, giving a little nod of her head. “Wait.” Andrew says, mostly apathetically but with more emotion in his voice than anyone outside of Neil has heard in years. He swallows thickly, and even though Neil is still frozen in horror from this and broken and wounded from talking to Eunoia, he feels the first ray of pride begin to thaw him out; stopping the woman from leaving was something the Andrew he’d first fallen for would never have done. This is only proved further by his next words. “Are you- Are you… Getting help? Seeing somebody about-” Andrew cuts himself off and tugs at the ends of his armbands angrily, annoyed at his inability to speak more coherently. Thankfully the woman seems to understand as some of the tension in her body eases.

“Yes.” She rubs a hand over her face and smiles a little, disbelievingly. “I, uh, almost didn’t make it out of university. You know how great this country is for mental health. Made a couple of good friends who got me to the hospital in time when I, uh, you know.” She says, gesturing to her legs. Neil hadn’t noticed before, but the shorts she’s wearing reveal scars on her thighs, one particularly deep one that runs way too close for comfort to the femoral artery. Thanks to his childhood, he can tell she’d missed the mark just by the placing of the scar (and obviously by the fact that she’s still alive; no matter how great her friends were, severing the femoral artery would result in death in a matter of minutes), but she hadn’t been far off. “Got myself sorted out a bit, after that. The government still pays for me to see someone but,” here she shrugs, “I’ve never trusted therapists.”

Neil shoots Andrew a look that says see; it’s not just me which Andrew ignores. Instead Andrew takes his time forming what he wants to say before responding. “I told someone what he’d done to me, and he promised that he’d stop Cass from fostering anyone else. I wasn’t thinking- It wasn’t a pleasant conversation and it didn’t occur to me until the day Aaron killed him that the person I told was lying about that promise too.” Andrew didn’t say sorry, Andrew didn’t believe in regret. But there’s something in Andrew’s eyes, something that Neil thinks he’d perhaps uncovered with Robin. Andrew had always accepted his part of the blame that Drake had been allowed to continue unchecked after he left the Spears, but the older he became, the more stories he heard, the more he let those stories affect him in ways he would never have allowed to even touch him as a university student, the heavier that blame sat on his shoulders. The woman sees that something, understands it more intimately than Neil did (because yes, there were other people, sometimes innocent, mostly not, who’d been seriously hurt because of him and his mother as they’d ran from Nathan, but as much as Nathan would always remain the main tormentor in Neil’s nightmares, he had at least never gone after someone else just to cause Neil pain. Threatened other people; yes. Did Neil believe he would have killed them? Definitely. But his preferred method was always just to kill his main target, so the collateral damage to Neil and Mary’s choices had been very minimal), and sticks her hand out for Andrew to shake.

He does so after a second of hesitance, and the woman smiles her barely-there smile again.

“My name is Rosa deRosales because my birth mother seriously did not love me, but I prefer to go by literally anything else.”

“Well, Literally Anything Else, this is quite possibly the shittiest thing I’ve ever had in common with someone.” Neil blinks.

Did Andrew just-

No.

He couldn’t have- He wouldn’t have-

But-

Did Andrew Minyard just make a dad joke?

  “Please, gorgeous, look at me.”

It has been ten strained minutes since Andrew and Neil had left the ice-cream parlour. Eunoia paces the length of the store, shoving the tables out of her way the first few times. Sam had waited for her to break the silence, but when her expression hadn’t changed while her pacing increased in speed and ferocity (to the point where Eunoia was almost stamping over her newly mopped floors), Sam had moved into her path.

Her head snaps up to look at him obediently but Sam knows it isn’t him she’s seeing. She keeps pacing until they were nose to nose and there she stops, the silence as tense and fraught with broken glass as a bombed city. “What do you want me to do?” He whispers, his voice strained and desperate. “Tell me gorgeous, what can I do?”

  “What do you want me to do?” Eunoia’s pleading voice reaches slowly through the fog in his mind. A nightmare. He’d had a nightmare, and now he doesn’t know where he is. Panic begins to race his heartbeat. “Tell me banana, what can I do?”

“Where are we?” He asks back, shakily, digging his fingers into his thighs harshly enough that he can ground himself to the feeling. Eunoia’s hands curl round his and entangle his fingers with hers. Huh, that works too.

“We’re in our apartment, in the kitchen. You had a nightmare but you’re safe. You’re here with me.”

“You won’t leave?” He trembles as she leads him over to the sofa and sits him down on it, sitting herself in his lap but thankfully not turning the lights on.

“Of course not. Do you want to talk about it?” He can hear in her voice that this has shaken her; his dreams were usually more the common garden variety types, not the existential-crisis-in-the-middle-of-the-night types. He strokes her thumbs with his soothingly.

“When I first asked my mum if there was something wrong with me because I didn’t want to have sex with anyone, you know that she said yes.” Eunoia’s hands tighten around his, barely constrained rage tensing her body. “She also said we could fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix!” Eunoia exclaims hotly and Sam feels a little more normal when he smiles wryly, an unusual expression for him, usually so earnest and honest in his happiness.

“I didn’t think that at the time. I wanted to be normal, I wanted to be liked. Mum persuaded my brother to start taking me to all his parties, I don’t know how, probably said that she’d help him pay for his car or something. I hated them. They weren’t fun parties, and I don’t like large groups of strangers anyway. It was all drugs and drinking which is fine in small doses but everyone was reckless and doing stupid stunts. And there was so much sex. All the time, everywhere. There wasn’t one quiet corner in the house that didn’t have some people hooking up there. My brother would never stay with me, he’d always abandon me to go and have fun with his friends and I just-” Sam cuts himself off with a shudder and Eunoia disentangles their hands so she can pull him fully into her arms, head tucked into the crook between her neck and shoulder, legs wrapped firmly round his sides.

Sam squeezes her waist, inhaling her smell deeply, anchoring himself to the present. They’re alone; even if Sam turns on the lights it’d still be just the two of them. “I hate your mother.” Eunoia says, matter-of-factly, after they’ve been sat there for a while.

  Eunoia recognises the words almost against her will, a thread of awareness coming back to her eyes.

“Sam?” He leans forward lightly till their foreheads brush and Eunoia lets out a quiet agonised sigh. “Oh. Oh, my God. Sam.” She looks at the door where Andrew and Neil had gone and then down at her hands. “Fuck. Fuck!”

She spins away and sits at the closest table head in her hands. Sam doesn’t know whether she wants him to come over or not. “The FBI? Sam, what the fuck? Does he get off on hurting people?” She drums her hand against the table, loudly enough that the person walking their dog outside looks around for the source of the noise. “Agents? My parents weren’t, they weren’t- Fuck!”

“Why would they lie?” Sam asks gently, which is apparently exactly the wrong thing to say. Eunoia jabs a finger towards him, eyes narrowed.

“Just because you’ve got a boner for Minyard doesn’t mean he can’t be a massive asshole!” She snarls, picking the words that hurt the most. That’s the problem with letting someone know you. He flinches, because she knows he’s never thought about Andrew like that, that the whole thing was an inside joke between the two of them long before he ever met the Exy player in real life, that trivializing the stuttering way he’d tried to explain his fascination with the goalkeeper is exactly what everyone else has been doing to him his whole life but never Eunoia, never her.

He doesn’t want to be here, he wants to leave, but he also knows he can’t leave her. That’s the problem with falling in love.

Instead, he sits on the floor, leaning his head against the counter, and waits for things to get better.

N�����<��

[ravenvsfox]

could you do 52 "i don't think he loves me anymore" with some angst? + andreil

Dan gets home late from her coaching gig on Tuesday night, and they eat thai takeaway over styrofoam containers and cheap wine.

The TV’s the only light in the room, and it’s almost like the flicker of a fireplace, if they don’t look at it directly. Dan’s laughing and smooching stray noodle off of Matt’s cheek when there’s a knock on the door.

They make faces at each other. “It’s 10 pm,” Dan says. “This had better be life or death.”

Matt groans. “Don’t tempt fate.” He struggles out of the couch and passes his ginger beef off to Dan. “5 bucks says it’s Allison back from Guadala-whatever. Timezones mean nothing to her.”

“Bet denied. You know gambling isn’t the same when we have a joint bank account,” Dan complains and Matt laughs, dodging their side table and heading for the front door. He busily cracks open all of their locks and rattles the door until it unsticks.

“Hey!” he says, surprised. Neil’s scuffing their doormat with the toe of his shoe, dressed in old PSU colours. “A house call from Neil Josten, what an honour,” he jokes. Half-jokes. A visit from Neil is a confession that he missed you enough to actually do something about it.

Neil looks up at him blankly, and something is so obviously wrong that it shakes Matt. He takes silent note of the bag slung over his shoulder, the mottled redness of his eyes and face.

“Allison?” Dan calls, and Matt shakes his head without thinking.

“Neil,” he replies softly.

“Get out of town,” Dan says, voice getting louder as she floats towards them. She appears at Matt’s shoulder and grins. “Well if it isn’t our favourite competition.”

Neil usually says something obnoxious about Matt’s team not even counting as competition, but this time his mouth stays thin and snapped shut. Matt and Dan exchange a loaded glance.

“I need to ask you a favour,” Neil says finally.

“Anything,” Matt says.

“I need to stay somewhere,” Neil says, and Matt watches him gather himself like he’s finding his balance on a slick of ice.

“Where’s Andrew,” Dan says slowly. Neil looks at her, and then at Matt. He hasn’t seemed quite this small since he first showed up at the foxhole court with all his lies clenched between his teeth.

“I can find somewhere else,” Neil says, already turning to go. Matt catches him by the strap of his duffel.

“Oh no you don’t. We’ve got a couch with your name on it.”

“If Matt hasn’t destroyed it with peanut sauce,” Dan chirps. Neil looks back and forth between them again, his face in knots. Matt bodily pulls him over the threshold.

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to. We get how it is.” He looks over at Dan and she’s already nodding.

“Thanks,” Neil says, and he drops his bag heavily just inside the door. He eyes the TV. “What were you watching?”

“Not exy,” Dan replies. “You might have heard of it.” She flops back onto her side of the couch and tucks her feet under herself. Matt settles down opposite and watches Neil perch on the armchair like it’s made of something sharp.

“We can change it?”

Neil shakes his head, and his eyes drop. Matt feels metaphorical eggshells crunching under his heels. It’s never been this uneasy with Neil, even when they first met.

Neil picks at his armbands until he seems to realize what he’s doing, and he reaches under the sleeves of his hoodie to peel them off altogether. Dan shoots Matt a frantic look.

“Not to pry,” Dan starts, “but do you need us to call anyone?”

He looks up. “Like who?”

“Like…” she looks at Matt. “Your coach? Nicky, maybe? Kevin?”

“How would they help me?” Neil says flatly.

“Man, your Andrew impression is killer,” Matt grits, nerves pricking with frustration. Neil’s expression goes tight, distorted like canvas stretched to fit an oversized frame.

“I don’t need anyone.”

“Since when?” Dan says, her eyes sharp with concern. “You just. Showed up at our door like you’re still on the run. You get that that freaks us out, right?”

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I can’t talk about it.”

Matt’s phone goes off, and he scoops it off the floor. 

“Is he there?” Matt reads out loud. He looks at Neil to find him shaking, looking straight through the TV.

“Don’t answer.”

“Is it Andrew?” Dan asks and Neil stands up abruptly, armbands slithering off his lap as he does.

“Don’t answer.”

Matt drops the phone, hands up in surrender. “Not answering. Jesus Christ Neil.”

“I can’t talk about it,” he reiterates. “I can’t go home, and I can’t talk about it. I don’t want to make things difficult for you, but if you can’t handle not knowing then I will go to someone who can.”

“We handled not knowing a whole fucking lot in your freshman year, Neil. I think we can manage,” Matt says, and Neil’s face twitches.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.” The fight whips out of him, and he crumples back into his chair. “Switch to 189,” Neil says, nodding at the TV. “Highlights should be on by now.” He puts the heels of his hands in his eyes and breathes.

“God, don’t you ever get enough,” Dan says, but she dutifully reaches for the remote.

Matt watches Neil’s detached expression all the way through the exy commentary, his sleeves sagging over wrecked arms, his fucking heartbreaking eyes.

He gives him too many pillows and their good sheets, and tries not to check up on him like a nervous first time parent.

____

Neil stays for a week.

He leaves their couch early in the morning to go for his usual ass o’clock run. He comes back obliterated by the summer heat and his obvious attempts to forget whatever’s hurting him by pushing too hard.

Matt starts pouring him a glass of water with his morning coffee, leaving the chair across from him conspicuously open in case Neil chooses to sit and talk. He doesn’t on Wednesday or Thursday or Friday, but Saturday morning finds Neil already in the kitchen with his glass drained and his eyebrows knit.

Matt sits down with his coffee and kicks lightly at Neil’s feet. “‘sup?”

Neil’s eyes snap to his and it’s a little unnerving how focused they are after all this time drifting to the clock and out the window and over the long-dead screen of his phone. “I don’t think he loves me anymore.”

Matt’s mug slips and he catches it on the lip of the table so that it sloshes all over his hand. “Shit. What?”

Neil’s jaw works, and he settles back into the chair. “I don’t think he wants this. With me.”

“Neil…” Matt says. His chest feels overly full of air, like it’s pushing everything else out.

“Don’t— don’t tell me he does. You’ve never known anything about us.”

That stings a little, but Matt swallows it. He’d never had the opportunity to understand them. Never prodded what looked like an actively healing wound. “I mean. It’s Andrew,” he says, helpless.

“Observant,” Neil sneers.

“Okay smartass, how about you tell me what happened to you two?”

Neil looks away. “I—can’t.”

“Then don’t bring it up,” Matt says, exasperated. “I’m out of my mind curious, you know. The group text hasn’t stopped betting on you since Wednesday morning. I’m trying not to push.”

Neil chews viciously at his lip. The table lapses into agitated silence, and Matt waits.

“We used all our secrets up. We’ve run out of things we can give. He can’t let me in any further, and I have to… get that. I’ve always known it was a possibility.”

“But…” Matt prompts, watching Neil grapple with something much older than his and Andrew’s relationship. “You love him.”

Neil doesn’t reply. His armbands are back. Whatever he’s wearing smells strongly enough of cigarettes that Matt noticed when he walked in. His mouth is bloody where he’s been chewing it. His answer is obvious.

It’s also obvious that Neil’s done talking, so Matt pats his arm and trudges past him to the bedroom. He slips his phone out of his shorts pocket and looks at that is he there for so long that the screen starts blurring.

He texts a simple yes back, and puts his face in his hands like it’ll hold in the guilt.

____

Andrew shows up before the sun goes down on Saturday night. He looks too pale to be real, his dark shirt tucked up to his neck, a bag hiked up over his shoulder. The deja vu simmers in Matt, and he almost regrets getting involved.

Neil’s already standing when they turn into the living room, looking distraught, eyes not even glancing over Matt on their way to Andrew.

“Who told you?”

“I already knew,” Andrew says simply.

“I’ll just…” Matt says. Neither of them react. He shrugs and walks to the kitchen where the air feels breathable.

He feels unsettled, like he’s trying to ignore a bomb being defused next door.

He hears quiet voices, more hissed than whispered, the plunk of pebbles into water rather than the float of something on top.

“You told me you were done,” Matt hears Neil say, voice climbing.

“Done making things easy for you.”

Neil laughs, ugly, and Matt hears some unidentifiable movement.

“You told me,” Andrew says lowly, “that you wanted me to be honest. It’s not my fault that you didn’t like it.”

“I never thought you’d really give this up,” Neil admits miserably. Matt heads for the door to intervene, but then Andrew speaks again.

“I wasn’t,” Andrew says. “You assumed.”

“Then what were you doing?” Neil asks, bewildered.

“Fighting,” Andrew says. “With you.” There’s nothing for a second, and Matt strains to hear. “Not everything is as dramatic as you make it out to be.”

“You said you were done with me,” Neil says, breathless.

“I was.”

“And now?”

“You are on thin ice.”

“Fuck, Andrew,” he half laughs half sobs. “I thought I was going to have to transfer to a different team.”

“I would have quit first.”

“I’m pretending you didn’t just say that.”

Matt creeps forward and pops his head in. They’re not touching but they’re easily close enough that they could be. Neil looks more human than he has in days. Andrew’s face is blank but his hands go up to Neil’s sides as Matt watches.

“I thought I was going to have to fight for visitation rights to the fucking cats,” Neil continues.

“They don’t care.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Neil says, smile tipping over like an overfull glass. “I’m sorry I ran.”

He reaches for Andrew, who lets him wind his hands in his hair.

“You were in the first place I checked,” Andrew says, “You’re losing your touch.”

“Maybe I’m getting comfortable,” Neil retorts. Matt doesn’t know if they’re aware of the way they’re winding together like neighbouring tree branches.

“Everything okay?” Matt asks, and Andrew’s arms drop.

“Yeah,” Neil says, dragging his eyes from Andrew. “Thanks.” He says it so that Matt knows he means it, with his smile up in his eyes.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” Matt says pointedly. “Don’t even think about using our room.”

Neil frowns and Matt laughs, grabbing his keys.

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

He shuts the door behind him before Neil can respond, and he pulls up his text conversation with Dan on his way down the hall.

Beauty and Beast reunited. just u & me tonight, he sends.

Dan replies FINALLY 10 seconds later, and Matt grins.

When he gets back that evening, the pillows and sheets are washed and put away, and Neil’s duffel is sitting on the couch, empty. There’s a scrap of lined paper on top of it, and Matt picks it up.

Harder to run away without this.

If I didn’t already have a home, you and Dan would be it.

Thank you.

[kickfoxing]

happy valentines day to @reneewvlkers! here is my gift for this lovely from the @upperclassmennet exchange <33

It wasn’t really an accident, not really. It’s not like any of them purposefully intended to get magical powers and become vigilantes, but when the opportunity presented itself, none of them said no.

It started on an exciting day, which is unusual for a magical adventure. Typically the day is mundane and grey and then something magical happens. But the foxes lives never followed what was considered typical and they were surely never mundane. It was the girl’s final season, a thought that weighed down most of the team as they crawled their way through second semester. They had decided that it was a good bonding exercise to travel together over spring break like they did last year. And by they i mean Allison who then got Dan to round up the troops.

The foxes, sans all the freshman, made their way to the cabin they stayed at last time via several vehicles. When they arrived, they took the same room arrangement as they had last year since no one wanted to argue with anyone about better rooms, better placement, different roommates, etc. Their activities were much the same as last time, expect that Neil wasn’t sporting a mummy look and Aaron wasn’t being a dick to Neil about his and Andrew’s relationship (he was being a dick about the fact that katelyn couldn’t come, though).

One morning, Dan had decided that it would be a good idea to go hiking and climbing as a whole group. Kevin, while upset it wasn’t exy, was happy to be exercising and pestered everyone until they said yes just to shut him up. In order to fully take in the sights around them, Dan had made sure everyone left their phones back at the cabin.

The incessant chatter began almost as soon as they hit the trail, mostly consisting of Nicky complaining and trying to get a rise out of Kevin and Aaron. Renee was walking with Andrew and Neil, discussing the merits of wilderness survival in different  habitats. Dan, Allison, and Matt were leading the troops, playing an intense game of would you rather. They were following a map they had snagged at the dining hall, but for some reason none of the landmarks they were seeing were matching up with the map.

“Okay gang,” started Dan, “we’re going to take a quick break while we get ourselves readjusted on the map.”

“Are we lost? We’re lost! Are fucking kidding me? I’m forced to do physical activity on spring break and then we get lost? This is the worst thing that’s-”

“Nicky, for once in your life, shut up,” said Aaron as he pulled out his phone, searching for service.

Allison almost laughed before explaining to Aaron, “It’s no use, there’s no signal out here. We are in the middle of nowhere, there’s a reason Dan made us leave them at the cabin”

The group was quiet for a minute, sitting around the small clearing they had stopped in, taking in the nature around them. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew through the clearing and it began to pour.

“What the fuck?!”

“Why me?”

“Did anyone check the radar before we left?”

“Did anyone bring an umbrella?” Renee asked, breaking through the swears and exclamations at the sudden twist of the weather.

“No.”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think we’d need one!”

“There’s an overhang that way we can go hide under,” suggested Neil, pointing to a place deeper into the woods, “at least we can try and wait the rain out.”

Before he had finished speaking, Nicky had begun sprinting to the overhang and sat himself as close to the wall as possible. The rest of the foxes made their way over as well and squished together under the overhang.

The chatting from the trail resumed as they huddled together and waited out the rain. After about 10 minutes, water started to pile up near their feet and seep through their butts.

“Well this is just great! We could be back at the cabin in front of the fire right now but instead we’re stuck here under a mossy rock, lost in the god forsaken woods.”

“Nicky-” Neil began but was cut off before he could finish.

“I would shut up if I were you,” stated Andrew, peering over the rest of the group to stare him down. The group went silent again for a couple minutes. Everytime the wind blew, they shifted closer to the wall and too each other.

“You know what, I’m just going to say it: FUCK EXY!” yelled Nicky while standing up and running out from under the rock.

Kevin drew a small gasp at Nicky and his dramatics before taking his place by the wall. The group just barely fit underneath here but with Nicky gone they could spread out a tiny bit. Thoroughly soaked and done with his dramatics, Nicky  dove at the rest of the group while yelling “group hug!”

Suddenly, a flash of lightning struck Nicky’s leg and coursed through the rest of the foxes. The collective screams that went out were enough to scare off a tree of birds not to far away. As soon as the electricity began, it stopped. The group slumped to the ground with a groan and were too busy recovering to notice the slight colorful tinge each of them gave off.

The rain let up moments later and the group clambered back to the clearing they had originally stopped in.

“What the fuck?! What the fuck!” muttered Kevin as he stared down at his glowing fingers.

“Ahh hah,” laughed Nicky, awkwardly filling the silence, “my bad, you guys.”

“Aparently the Exy gods saw it fit to strike you down for your earlier comments,” interjected Matt, “and you decided to try to take out the whole team with you.”

“Uhh guys?” Neil began, “are anyone else’s fingers uh.... emitting light?”

The rest of the group looked down at their hands to see that they also had different colors cast across their fingers. Each fox had a color of the rainbow softly glowing from their hands, but Andrew and Neil were different. While Neil’s hands were we’re a bright, blinding white, Andrew’s were the opposite. The inkiness around Andrew’s hands seemed to bleed into the air around him and suck out all particles out light.

“Uhh okay guys, what the actual fuck is going on?” said Allison said as she inspected her yellow hands. As she brought her hands up to her face she spoke again, “Mine actually seem to be giving off warmth, anyone else?”

“I can’t even look at mine,” said Neil, instead inspecting Andrew’s hands while Andrew stared off in the distance trying not to get caught being interested.

“Let me see if mine are warm too!” Nicky shouted as he slapped his hand on his face, “Ow! Nope! Mine just shocked the everloving fuck out of me.”

“Of course this had to happen,” said Aaron as he stomped towards a log to sit down, “nothing normal can happen with any of you!” He swung his arms in anger as he sat down when suddenly a fireball shot from the ends of his finger, landing on a nearby rock and extinguishing with a his.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” said Matt shaking his head vigorously, “there’s no way Aaron just shot fire out of his fingers.”

While everyone was staring at Aaron and the smouldering rock, a small noise was made as Kevin fell sprawled on the ground.

“Kevin!” Dan yelped as she rushed over to his side, “Are you okay?”

“Don’ loo ah my hans-” Kevins slurred as he attempted to sit up again.

“What, why?”

“Dizzy,” Kevin said as he finally pushed himself up. He quickly shoved his hands under his butt so he wouldn’t get caught up in looking at them again.

“Aaron,” Renee began, “do you still have your phone?”

Aaron gave a nod before reaching into his pocket and tossing his cell at Renee. Renee caught it easily, her position is goalie after all, and opened it up. As soon as she pressed a button on the keypad, the phone sent out a burst of energy and fell to the ground. The foxes crowded around the phone that looked like it had met the same fate as the rock Aaron’s flame had hit.

“Fuck,” uttered Matt as he began pacing, “I mean, just fuck! What are we supposed to do? No cell phone, no helpful map. We’re stuck in this godforsaken forest while everyone appears to have magical powers from some weird fucking lightning that hit us on our hiking trip! Just, what sort of alternate reality did we crawl into? Who’s sick joke was-”

“Matthew,” said Dan, voice cutting through the fog of words Matt had caught himself up in, “I know it seems bad, but take a deep breath.”

Matt took a deep breath. “Thanks babe,” he began, reaching for Dan’s hand as he spoke, “you always know just how to-” When his handed found Dan’s, they were suddenly thrust apart. Matt’s sleeve seemed to be smoldering while Dan’s arm hair was standing on end.

“I feel like I just got struck by lightning again,” said Dan, shaking her head Renee’s extended hand as she pushed herself off the ground.

“And I feel like I just stuck my hand in a superheated oven,” said Matt, as stayed spread eagle in the dirt.

The group stood around, each looking at their own hands as they contemplated the reality of the situation. Everyone seemed to be getting restless as the sky started to darken, the soft glow of their hands intensifying with the decrease of the sun’s light.

Andrew and Neil had been having one of their weird almost psychic facial expression conversations. It looked like an intense battle but it appeared Neil won when finally, Andrew spoke, “I know the way back.”

“What?!” Exclaimed Nicky, shooting up from where he was leaning against a tree trunk.

“He has an eidetic memory,” said Neil, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well then why didn’t you say anything earlier?” asked Kevin as he pouted, still sitting on his hands.

“I like seeing you all squirm,” Andrew said, before taking off down a path.

Eventually, the group made it back to the cabin and all slumped in the main room. Dan went off and grabbed her phone, careful to use her elbows and legs instead of her hands in case something happened like it did with Renee earlier. When she made it back to the main room, she set her phone down and hit Wymack’s speed dial and put it on speaker.

Wymack answered with a quick, “This better be good.”

The foxes looked around at each other, trying to figure out who should speak and what to say when Dan finally bit the bullet.

“Uh so Coach, we were in the woods on a hike we’re hiding out under a rock while it was raining and ended up getting struck by lightening and I think we all have magical powers now.”

“Wilds, you should lay off the drinking and should stop trying to make jokes.”

“Wait, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true!”

“I know you think it’s true-” began Wymack but was cut off by Kevin.

“Father,” Kevin began, “Wilds is right. You need to get here immediately.”

“Are you serious?” Wymack asked. The resounding silence was all the answer he needed.

“You assholes couldn’t just go on a normal vacation could you?”

“Apparently not,” Dan laughed as she breathed out a sigh.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t get into anymore trouble.”

With that, Wymack hung up and left the room in silence. Little did they know that being struck by lightning was only just the beginning.

[turnsoutnoonewasexaggerating]

Part 3 of The Sam Diaries

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10507836/chapters/23186556

Sam’s girlfriend had hung every newspaper clipping she could find that discussed Neil Josten’s recent stabbing (Sam was horrified to find out there had been more than one. His girlfriend had merely gestured to her face, indicating Neil’s scars, and Sam had realised he was just as much of an idiot as she always claimed) around their bedroom walls.

Every night when he’d come home from his new job that week she’d made a big deal of giving him a fanfare through the door, and when he’d complained had written ‘Mine and Neil Josten’s hero’ on his forehead in sharpie. He’d had to restyle his hair for the next four days to hide it, for which he got more odd looks than he thought the words would have.

Today when he comes home, it turns out his girlfriend has something even more brilliant planned.

“No way! But you just released a new flavour two weeks ago!” He crows as he steps out of his shoes and wraps his arms round her. She leans into him with a contented hum before pushing him away again, getting back to scooping out ice cream in their only-for-ice-cream-testing bowls. Hers was a swirly blue and green bowl he’d picked out for her on their second date from a stall on the beach they’d walked down, and his was obnoxiously orange with ‘MINYARD 03’ written across in white.

As ever, the tub she was scooping ice-cream out of was unlabelled, so he’d have to guess the flavour. It was her fairly fool-proof system; if he didn’t recognise the flavour, no-one would. Regardless of whether Sam liked the ice-cream she’d come up with or not, he treasures these evenings above all others, because they were entirely theirs. “I love you so much.” He proclaims loudly as he moves to the other side of the table and into his seat at their tiny kitchen table.

“Because I’m enabling your ‘all eat no exercise’ lifestyle?” She teases, looking at his much squishier stomach. Ironic really, that it was his girlfriend that owned the ice-cream parlour but he was chubbier.

“Hey you say you like me being comfy!” He grins back, and finds his breath catching slightly when she smiles, because holy hell he didn’t understand it until he loved her but now it makes sense when people talk about living off their partner’s smile. He doesn’t need it like he needs air to breathe or food to eat, water to drink, he just loves it, just wants to cause it, interaction and reaction for as long as she’ll have him.

“Eh it’s just cheaper than getting working central heating and a new pillow.” She shoves his bowl over to him as he snorts. “Eat your ice cream then, you banana.” He narrows his eyes in mock-anger at the nickname, though he’s still legitimately annoyed at his mom for sharing that story. To cut it short; when he was sick with fever age five, he’d had a delirious breakdown about turning into a banana if he touched one. He still didn’t like them, but he saw the funny side.

He takes a spoonful, resisting his usual urge to just scoop as much of it into his mouth in one go as he could, and tries to hide his grimace at how cold it is on his teeth. He squints as he tries to work out the flavour, while his girlfriend looks at him expectantly.

“I want to say orange marshmallows? It’s weird but I kind of like it.”

“It’s you.” His girlfriend says, with uncharacteristic seriousness, and Sam almost drops his spoon. It was on their first date that he’d learned she owned the ice cream place he frequented, not just worked there, and she’d jokingly told him she could never leave a guy she made an ice cream flavour of, because hearts were fickle but ice cream was forever.

“Why orange marshmallows?” The size of their table makes it easy for her to reach over and poke him in the stomach with her spoon.

“Marshmallows.” Then she taps her spoon against his bowl. “Orange.”

“What’s it called?”

“Well I was going to go for something cheesy like ‘hero’ and then I thought ‘nah, I’ll just call it Sam’. Now if it sells I’ll have the pleasure of hearing people ask ‘can I have one scoop of Sam?’”

“A scoop of Sam. I like it.”

We fast forward through the night and the majority of the next morning which Sam spends figuratively shitting himself and literally smiling and going about his normal day.

Here’s some things you should know about Sam’s girlfriend, other than she was into Exy and owned an ice cream parlour. Her parents drove backwards off a cliff the day after her 18th birthday leaving her with the ice cream parlour and a million questions she’d never get answered. She had a whole life outside of Sam, but Sam was a very big part of her life. She was once offered to be recommended for the Foxes, but she turned it down to keep running the ice cream parlour which she doesn’t regret.

Today, she was at work, introducing her new flavour of ice cream, Sam, and reviewing over the list of candidates for the newly vacated part-time position. When she’d first introduced Sam to Exy, she’d started with the Foxes. She’d finished explaining their entry requirements and was about to launch into the rules of the game when Sam had interrupted.

“What about the kids who don’t play Exy?” He’d blushed and stuttered something awful after that, apologising about thirteen times for interrupting before she could get him back to the point. “I just mean that it’s brilliant what that coach is doing… But not every kid is athletic, you know?”

It was like he’d thrown a wrench into the way she viewed things. She was so incredibly lucky to actually own an establishment and be able to make a change. Sure, it wasn't going to rocket launch you to fame and glory like the Foxes, but she could offer kids with nothing else a chance to make some money and fund the life fate was determined not to grant them.

From then she’d only hired staff who needed a second chance. It didn’t always work, the kids had stolen the till more than once but the risk was worth being proud of herself every time she looked in the mirror.

Sam walks into his girlfriend’s store almost glad, for the first time since it had happened, that he’d almost been stabbed to death in an alleyway by Andrew Minyard, because it makes this seem slightly less daunting.

Slightly.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” His girlfriend asks, confused, but with that smile already curling her lips. She takes her time walking out from behind the desk, a little furrow forming between her brows as she comes closer. “Is everything alright?”

He breathes in, breathes out, and concentrates on that smile. He manages to get on one knee without falling over, which had been a legitimate concern. Her eyes widen comically as a gasp silences all the customers in the store and several of the employees slap excited hands over their mouths.

“I looked up what Eunoia means the other day. It’s a pretty name, if awfully difficult to guess how to pronounce on first glance, and I was hoping it would mean something better than ‘God had heard’ like mine.” Sam looks at her, and the world drops away around them. “It means beautiful thinking. I can’t begin to tell you how apt that is. Your mannerisms, your optimism, that goddamn smile, this place and everything about it. Your thoughts are beautiful and you are a beautiful thought, a dream that I have had the honour of being with. You make feel so happy, and safe and cherished and I want to do the same for you, for the rest of my life if you’ll have me. I love you.” There are tears welling up in Eunoia’s eyes now, and Sam still can’t take his eyes off her. “Eunoia, will you-”

“For fuck’s sake I just wanted an ice cream.” Andrew Minyard’s flat voice and Neil Josten’s loud ‘shhhhh’ cuts through his speech like a knife into butter (or flesh; honestly it’s probably more likely to go through the flesh; butter is hard). Eunoia looks from Sam to Andrew and Neil and back again, blinking rapidly.

“You couldn’t have waited until I’d finished the question?” Sam says, not even annoyed because really, what had he expected? Andrew shrugs.

“You’re lucky he didn’t make retching noises.” Neil comments, and although he is serious it sounds like an insult.

“Excuse me?” Eunoia snaps back. “Sam straight up saves you from bleeding to death on a bench and you couldn’t do the common courtesy of not being assholes for two minutes?”

“I want Sam.” Andrew says, before Neil can apologise, or whatever it was that he was actually going to say but Sam’s hoping it was an apology for his own sanity. Sam realises Andrew’s pointing at the ice cream counter. Neil continues to stare at Andrew’s face.

“Oh you want it, huh? Thought you wanted nothing.” Andrew uses his outstretched arm to push Neil’s face away from his and towards the counter. “Wait, you can read those labels from over here?” The store isn’t that big, more cosy, and the labels are printed fairly largely. Andrew glares at Neil.

“You need glasses.”

“Um, Eunoia?” She spins back to look at Sam.

“Oh my god Sam I am so sorry-” He grins, rolling his eyes because, hell, at least this proposal will be original.

“Will you marry me, yes or no?” There’s a slightly sharper intake of breath from both Andrew and Neil, but Eunoia’s the only one Sam currently cares about.

“Yes! Of course oh my god Sam I love you so much.” He stands, and she kisses him, and the shop bursts into applause, and Sam feels like he’s flying (but not in a plane because they terrify him, and also in some parallel world where birds don’t exist because he dislikes them too). They’re both smiling too much to kiss properly but no-one cares.

No-one except Andrew Minyard apparently.

“You forgot the ring idiot.” Sam pulls back from Eunoia reluctantly, keeping both arms wrapped around her.

“Not all weddings use rings you uncultured asshole.” There are a few shocked titters and mutters of ‘do you think he knows that’s Andrew Minyard’ but louder than all of them is Neil’s stuttering laugh.

“He’s right you know.” Neil manages, after he’s calmed down enough to speak. Andrew tips his head in acknowledgement, and then swings his head over to the ice cream counter. Eunoia narrows her eyes at him.

“First you almost stab my boy- fiancé, then you interrupt his proposal and criticise it and now you’re expecting me to sell you ice cream?” Andrew sighs but then Eunoia’s off, flitting away back behind the counter and into the storage room, returning with a whole tub of Sam, another of her bestseller; Easy Win (chocolate upon chocolate upon chocolate basically) and another of When Life Gives You Lemons (a lemon sorbet). “That’ll be $66 please.” She says in her typical customer service voice, and Sam snorts.

Andrew, for some reason, flinches slightly, but he reaches into his pocket without another word. Strangely, what he gets out is not a wallet of any description, but an envelope. He passes it to her.

“Congratulations on your engagement.” He says, with his customary dead-eyed stare as Neil grabs a few notes from his wallet and tells her to put the change in the tip jar. Andrew lifts the three ice cream tubs with ease, though Sam’s fairly certain it’s only him that catches Neil staring at the way the muscles in his biceps bunch up, and that’s only because he’s looking too. Eunoia holds up the envelope with a question in her gaze.

“Plane tickets and passes to our next Exy game.” Neil explains. Sam doesn’t understand why Eunoia looks so stunned.

“But your next game is in Greece!” Ah, that’s why.

“Oh what a shame, must have forgotten.” Andrew says, dully. Neil grins.

“Sorry for interrupting the proposal Sam. Your chance to sit through a full Exy game.”

“Or to jib off at half time.” Andrew offers.

“Thank you.” Sam responds, and Andrew scoffs.

“Come on, Neil. Places to be, ice cream to eat.” With that Andrew and Neil head out of the store, and Sam turns back to Eunoia only to get tackled from the side as she pulls him into jumping up and down in excitement with her.

“Oh my god oh my god this is the best day of my life!”

“That had better half be because of the fact we’re engaged.” He returns and she nods enthusiastically, apparently too overcome to speak. She settles for kissing him again instead and, well, Sam’s not going to complain.