#send neil back to get him and neil will gladly go because then he can relive everything with the protag and maybe if he hangs on enough

[season-two]

i think the beauty of tenet is that both the protagonist and neil know that it won't last forever but they want it to so desperately that they'll go back in time just to relive the memories

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 8 - Parisian Nightmares

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Summary: With Neil MIA you have some time to think about everything that happened. But you are not allowed peace at all..

Warnings: Swearing.

Author’s Notes: The longest chapter yet, so sorry for that. It’s a little bit of a filler slower one so hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

Supposedly the idea of having lunch with TP would have scared you more if it was not for the way he guided you through the experience. He ordered food from the dining hall and made sure you had your coffee before starting any serious topics. Your tired and confused self really appreciated the efforts.

“So what do you want to talk about?” you asked after finally feeling more like a functioning human being.

“I thought we could discuss the things to come…” he briefly searched for the right words “Parts of it is what Neil already knows, but some details are not meant for him” he looked at you with a serious gaze “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course” you nodded, feeling both intrigued and nervous.

Ever since the topic of The Algorithm has been first breached, you hoped to learn more. Probably Neil’s presence would have helped at the moment, but if that was not possible then you just had to face the truth calmly. If not now, then when?

“Can I ask something first?”

“Go ahead”

“My recruitment… it wasn’t just because I was recommended by my professor, was it?” you felt like you already knew the answer but had to ask anyway.

“No” TP smiled “I knew from a good source that we had to recruit you”

You stared at him, desperately trying to comprehend what he meant. Suddenly you understood Neil and his despise of half-truths.

“Can I ask who’s that source?”

TP just smiled apologetically, and you groaned.

“Right. Did Neil know?”

“No, I only told him that you have to be enlisted” at your questioning stare, he added “It’s safer that way” he shrugged as though it explained everything.

It did not, but you began to understand that it was not meant to make sense. A sentence said during one of your early lectures rung out in your head: Don’t try to understand it. Feel it. Maybe that was the whole point.

“So that’s how you know that I’ll be needed during the plan? From the source?”

“Kind of” he grinned again “It’s a very reliable source, I must add” he looked at you pointedly and laughed at your confused face “I swear this will get clearer with time”

The reassuring smile made you feel somewhat better. Taking a sip of the coffee, you considered what was being said.

“When does it all begin?”

“With action in Kiev Opera in a month, more or less. But in reality, it already began years ago”

You frowned, feeling your head go blank. TP was smiling, clearly enjoying your utter confusion.

“It’s okay, you’ll catch up eventually”

“Thanks, that’s encouraging” you lightly smacked him in the shoulder.

“I’ll give you more information leading up to Kiev and then after” he explained after a short silence “But you can’t know the whole progression of events. I’m the only one who is cursed with that”

The sudden change in the tone made you stare at him curiously. But his face was like a mask.

“For now though, you don’t need to worry about it” he smiled again “I’m sending you out on a quiet mission to Paris with one of our agents”

That was surprising. But you could do with a distraction.

“Okay… what’s the deal?” you leaned onto the table and flashed him a brilliant smile.

“You have to research one shady guy in Paris. It’s just observation so no need for engagement. The only trick is that you have to pose as a newlywed couple” he looked at you expectantly.

Oh…

“How long will this take?” you tried to focus on the details, not to think too much about the implications of the cover.

“Three weeks” he smiled at your glare “What? It’s gonna be nice! Three weeks in Paris and all you have to do is observe our target, Pierre or whatshisname, and cosy up with Jasper” the overly enthusiastic tone made you laugh.

“You made it sound almost fun” you admitted after calming down a little.

“Well, it’s always a break from spending time with Neil” TP looked at you with an amused expression “I’m sure you could use some of that” he winked.

You shot daggers in his direction, all the while feeling your face grow warm. Admittingly, time without Neil could be useful. You just were not sure it would do much at this point. You were beyond saving.

“When do I begin?”

“You’ll have a mission briefing tomorrow, and that’s also when you’ll meet Jasper” you nodded “And now I think you should rest a little” he eyed you carefully.

“You’re probably right” you both got up “Thanks for the lunch and the chat… It helped” you smiled lightly.

“My pleasure” he ignored your outstretched hand and gave you a quick hug.

After a small hesitation, you returned the gesture. It felt familiar, and you had no clue why. 

“If you ever need anything, you know where to find me” TP smiled at you warmly.

“I’ll remember that” you grinned back and moved to open the door.

“Oh and don’t worry about Neil” you stopped in your tracks and turned to stare at him “I know that he can be extremely annoying, but he really cares about you”

You were speechless and could only nod in response. The Protagonist laughed at your expression before shooing you out of the room with a gesture. You gladly did just that.

*** One thing was for certain, life without Neil could be boring. You found out that much from the moment you came back to your room. After making sure the main casualty of the mission – your dress – was in the washing, you spent most of that afternoon staring at the ceiling. You were mostly thinking about how much your life has changed in the last weeks. And trying to avoid thinking about him because that could never end well. But of course, the universe had other plans.

Just as you were dealing with the fact that the dress was utterly ruined, your phone buzzed. It was late, and the number was used solely for personal reasons, so the sound made you frown. You looked at the screen to find a text message from an unknown number:

“How’s the dress?”

There was no signature, but you knew.

“How did you get my number?” you replied and quickly saved his contact details.

It didn’t take him longer than a minute to respond.

“Used the charm you’re so quick to ignore”

Ah, Anna’s help then.

“Why?”

“Couldn’t imagine not bothering you for too long”

You covered your face with your hands for a few seconds before typing back.

“The dress is ruined, so thanks for nothing”

The speed with which he responded took you aback. Surely he’d have better things to do...? It did not seem so.

“It’s hardly my fault, is it? That wasn’t my idea” you could almost imagine the self-satisfied grin.

“Point taken” you hit the sent button and then took a deep breath.

It’s not too early for double texting, is it?

“Where are you?” you typed another message before throwing the phone on the other side of the bed.

When it buzzed again, you regretted the decision. Pretending that you would be able to resist reading the message immediately was pointless. You reached for the phone and read his answer:

“On the way to Boston airport”

Great. At least now you knew that he is not around, and you can have time to think. But with those texts, it might be harder to do. Before you could overthink the response, another one came through.

“Be honest, how bored are you without me?” you wondered how someone could be so annoying via text message.

“I’ve been assigned a little mission in Paris, actually. With Jasper. So not that bored, thank you very much”

This time it took him longer to respond. Approximately 6 minutes. Not that you were counting.

“You’ll be bored soon enough if you’ll be stuck somewhere with Jasper. What’s the cover?”

You did not like the assumption, but who were you to argue.

“Newlyweds enjoying honeymoon” you typed back and closed your eyes.

Somehow his response to that information mattered a lot.

“I guarantee you’ll wish it was me soon enough” Fucking hell.

“That’s a bit narcissistic, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a little. But once you meet him, you’ll know I’m right”

“Well then I won’t hesitate to report back after the meeting” you replied and made sure to prepare yourself for the mission brief.

After you were done with planning the outfit and packing your folder, you glanced at the phone.

“Please do. I need to know what dear Jasper is up to these days”

“If you’re so curious about him, maybe ask Anna for his number ;) Sure she’d never deny you anything”

You weren’t sure where that came from, but sure enough, you were not going to take it back.

“Wow… Is that jealousy I’m sensing?”

“You wish” you glanced at the clock and realised how late it was.

“Goodnight, Neil” you sent him another text and went to the bathroom.

When you were back there was a message waiting for you.

“Sweet dreams, darling”

You groaned. In the end, it seemed like you will not be able to get a break from Neil. What a shame.

*** From the moment you stepped into the conference hall in the morning, you knew that Neil was right. Jasper was not one of the most entertaining people you have ever met. When you were introduced to each other he barely glanced up from the folder to look at you and half-heartedly shook your outstretched hand. You took a long look at him and his short brown hair and hazel eyes. He did look decent, to be fair. But he was not Neil. And you hated that your brain made that comparison straightaway.

“So what’s the task, boss?” the first time you heard his voice was when he addressed the Protagonist.

“You have to observe the target, Pierre Armand, who’s an inverted weapons dealer. You’re supposed to watch his every move and send daily updates but don’t engage. That will be the job for another team” TP looked at you both intently “Your cover is a newlywed couple going by the surname Morgan and who have just moved into their lovely suite next door to Armand” you’d swear he winked at you.

You glared back while your newly assigned partner studied the folder attentively. You wondered if he ever did anything else.

“When do we leave?” you decided to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Your plane is tomorrow afternoon” you nodded “Any other questions?” when neither of you spoke, he added “So I’ll leave you two to get acquittanced”

You stared at TP panicked, but he only flashed you one cheeky smile and left the room. That did explain why he and Neil got along so well. Grudgingly you turned towards Jasper, who was still pre-occupied with the damn folder. You cleared your throat, and he glanced up.

“So… have you been working here for a while?” you were shit at small talk.

“For three years now” he eyed you up sceptically “You’re the new recruit from London, aren’t you?” you could almost hear the condescension.

“Yes” it was not looking promising “Neil recruited me, and we’ve just been on a mission together in New York” you added.

It was a mistake. At the mention of Neil, Jasper’s eyes flared up, and he looked at you sharply.

“I heard that mission was a major fuck up” the vicious smirk took you aback “And poor Neil got shot”

You could only stare in confusion at the man in front of you. Boring and clearly having issues with Neil. Just bloody perfect.

“Anyway, I got to prepare” he got up “But mind you, Paris won’t be at all like an operation with that idiot” he glared at you.

“And what’s an operation with him like?” you were genuinely curious at this point.

“Overly dramatic” he made a grand gesture with his hands before slamming the doors in the wake of his exit.

He did have a point there. You sighed, grabbed your documents, and exited the hall. On the way to your room, you decided to give in to the temptation and typed a message to Neil.

“With grief, I have to admit you were right about Jasper”

You were not expecting a response instantly, so the buzz when you were pouring coffee into the cup made you jump up. Neil could make your life harder, even remotely.

“Told you. How is he doing?” you read the reply and grinned at the casual tone.

“He’s grumpy and hates you for some reason. Can’t wait to be stuck with him for three weeks” you sighed and accepted the grim fate.

“Sounds like him then. You never know, you might bond over your shared hatred for me”

You nearly choked on your coffee then. A fellow agent passing by on the corridor stared at you. This could only get worse.

“Think my hatred towards you has nothing compared to his. Any ideas why he’s like that?”

“Nothing concrete, but I’ve got a few vague theories. I’ll tell you when I’m back”

“Hope so. What time is it there?” closing the door to your room, you could finally behave like an idiot.

“Past 11 pm. Excited for your outing with Jasper?”

Asia then… You tried to think about any possible places he could be but came up with too many options.

“Not at all. Fully expecting my days will be spent wandering around Paris alone or watching French HGTV”

You decided to look through the folder to distract yourself from the increasing stress. This time you were supposed to be Amelia Morgan, wife to Nicholas Morgan. Amelia’s occupation was being an accountant, which sounded extremely boring, but at least you would get to experience the city. Your study was then interrupted by another text.

“You can always message me if you’re bored”

Tempting.

“Careful because I might”

“You better” To that, you did not know what to say,. so you just got lost in the preparations for the mission. This one was not looking good but there was no other choice. So you just focused on learning about your target. At least this time, there was no one to distract you.

Until another text came, a solid hour later.

“One clue about Jasper: Anna”

Oh not her again.

“Don’t tell me he’s hopelessly in love with her”

“Perhaps… And well, she has eyes for someone else so” and then “Not to be smug naturally”

You grinned at the screen.

“You do sound smug”

You had to admit that if Neil’s theory was true, it was rather heart-breaking for both Anna and Jasper. Not that you felt sorry for either of them.

“He might decide to take revenge upon me by breaking your heart”

You stared at the text and the many implications he could have meant it by it. And it was too much to figure out right now. Instead, you just typed back:

“Good luck to him” and then, with heart thumping wildly “Would you care if he did?”

You tried to ignore the phone when the answer came. But after an agonising minute spent reading the same two words over and over, you gave in.

“Maybe” 

Right… You just had to add that question to the long list for when he’s back. You closed the folder with a flourish. All mental coherence was gone.

*** It turned out that Neil was not right about everything. If Jasper ever intended to claim and then break your heart, he was utterly shit at it. Since the day you moved into your cosy Parisian flat, he barely spoke a word to you. Most of the time, he was buried nose deep in the mission briefs or books related to strategies and secrets of arms dealing. If you had tasks to complete, he would often sideline you before doing the job himself while ignoring any help you offered. To put it straightforwardly, he pissed you off.

And yet, his eagerness to be entirely self-dependent meant that you had time to discover Paris and relax while still completing the mission in any way you could. You also had more than enough time to text Neil, who always responded to your messages promptly. You sometimes wondered if he ever slept or did anything but talk to you. Not that you did mind, of course.

Your patience towards Jasper, his silence and superiority complex snapped for the first time after a week and a half. You have both been sitting in the living room of your condo, just after finishing quiet dinner. You were bored, extremely so. You have reached for the television remote with the intent to put on some background noise to ease the tension. But the moment you have switched the tv on, Jasper spoke:

“Don’t turn this shit on, it’s distracting” he has not even lifted his head from the folder he was studying.

You glared at him sharply and decided that you have had enough.

“Distracting from what? It’s not like you’ve not read this at least five times today already”

That made him look up. And he was not happy.

“I’m working. You should try that sometimes” he eyed you pointedly.

“I would if you ever gave me a chance to do anything” you shrugged, already not liking the conversation.

“I gave you a few opportunities, but you were just lazy” he placed his documents aside and went back to glaring at you “All you do is knock around Paris and stay on your phone for hours” a vicious smile appeared on his face “You’re texting Neil, aren’t you?”

You were taken aback by the whole situation and unable to deny the truth. “Even if I am, that’s none of your business” you were desperately hoping he would shut up.

But it was too late, and Jasper has clearly been triggered.

“That’s quite pathetic. You should know he never actually cares about all those girls he flirts with” he seemed to judge you “And I don’t see why you could be different” the smug smile was cruel.

Now you knew why it was better when he stayed quiet. You scrambled for any words of defence, but he managed to hit the mark. Swallowing hard, you schooled your face and replied in the most neutral tone you could muster at the moment.

“I think you’re just pissed Anna prefers Neil over you”

That worked. You watched with satisfaction as his eyes widened, and you silently thanked Neil for the information.

“Anna has nothing to do with this” it was his turn to stumble over the words “You’re just unwilling to face the truth” this time his harsh words lacked the sureness.

You were winning.

“So are you” you shrugged “I’ve had enough of this. You can go back to your precious mission briefs” you got up and left the room without a further glance.

You had to admit that his words did upset you. Even when you almost certainly knew he was wrong your brain had its own doubts. Because what if he was right? That would hurt, more than you could acknowledge.

But before you could begin the overthinking, the phone you threw onto the bed buzzed. He always knew when to message.

“How’s married life with Jasper going?”

And naturally, he always asked the right questions too. You did hate him for that.

“Now I know why it’s better he reads his documents instead of talking” you replied and debated what to do next.

“What did he do?” Neil quickly texted back even though you were pretty sure it was early morning hours for him.

You did not want to get into a serious conversation over the texts.

“He got a bit riled up and said some bullshit that wasn’t fun to listen to” that seemed like an easy way out for now.

“Do you want me to send a team to eliminate him? It would look like an accident”

You laughed at the tempting proposition.

“I’ll think about it”

“Are you alright?” you stared at the new message.

You were not exactly alright.

“I will be”

Why did lying feel so bad?

You switched off the lights in the room and lied on the bed. Just a week and a half to go. You’ve got this… right?

*** The last week in Paris passed in relative peace. Mostly because you and Jasper stopped speaking to each other entirely. Occasionally you would notice his cruel smirk appear when he caught you texting, and you did your best to ignore it. However, it did hurt, and you had to admit that one argument has managed to uproot all the confidence you have had.

Peace ended abruptly on the penultimate day when it became clear that you were being followed. Jasper caught on to the fact after he noticed someone shadow you on your walk through the city. You hid in one of the cafes as soon as he has signalled the fact to you. You knew he was right the moment a random man peered into the darkened premises and then went on to loiter nearby.

“Right, what do we do?” you looked around, trying to stay calm.

It seemed like no one else was onto you. Jasper already looked pissed off, and you wondered if it meant that more pleasant things would be said.

“I suspect they’ve got doubts about the authenticity of our story” he was intensely scanning the horizon, looking for any threats “He’s still there, waiting for us to blow the cover or prove him wrong” he turned to you with the most unhappy face you have ever seen.

“What is it?”

You were not sure you wanted to know the answer.

“We made it this far. I’m not letting them fuck it up” he leaned towards you and closed the gap.

You were frozen in horror before your brain caught up with the fact that Jasper was kissing you. Then you closed your eyes and tried to reciprocate with the minimum effort needed for it to look believable. It was pretty horrible, to put it simply. He was kissing you sloppily with a tempo that you could not match. You felt his hand clumsily entangle in your hair only to make you flinch when he ripped out a few hairs. After a solid 30 seconds long snog, you decided that had enough. You leaned back, ignoring the overwhelming urge to wipe your lips with the napkin. He stared at you briefly with that same disgusted face before discretely looking for your trail. The man was gone. You could only hope it worked as you exited the café, holding hands.

On the way back to the apartment, you refused to look at him, somehow hoping that would get rid of the awful way you felt. Naturally, being a spy did involve doing things like that but for some reason, it was not easy. You hated the fact that your brain kept on rewinding memories from New York and, in the process, making you feel worse. Once you made it back, you locked yourself in the room, leaving Jasper to fill in the report. You were tempted to message Neil just for the sake of knowing his thoughts on what happened.

“Today was my lucky day, and I got to experience PDA with Jasper. Send help”

That would do nicely, right?

“Must say I didn’t expect that”

As you were desperately looking for something to text back, your phone did something you did not expect it to do. It rang. You stared in shock as Neil’s number flashed as the caller ID. With a shaking hand, you picked up the phone and pressed the green button.

“Neil?” your voice sounded incredibly awkward.

Great start.

“What happened?” hearing his voice after those three weeks felt surreal.

Was it your imagination, or did he sound slightly tense?

“Um… we were being followed outside, so we entered a café. The tail was observing us and…” you took a deep breath, suddenly extremely nervous “And Jasper decided to kiss me to authenticate the cover”

Neil was silent, and that did not help with the irrational anxiety, so you rambled on, losing control of what you were saying.

“Well, it was more of a snog judging by how it lasted for thirty seconds, but I think they bought…”

“Okay, stop” he interrupted you abruptly “I’m not sure I want to know the details”

“Why not?” somehow out of the mixture of anxiety and insecurity, annoyance emerged “Are you jealous?”

You regretted the question as soon as it left your mouth. And did not want to know the answer. Luckily he did not respond. Instead, he did what Neil does best:

“Who’s a better kisser?”

You could not believe the nerve of this man.

“You can’t be for real” you muttered and heard him chuckle on the other side.

“It’s a legitimate question” you could picture the shrug and a cheeky smile.

It seemed like the initial awkwardness was gone. At least for him.

“I…” you huffed, unable to express the mess of emotions you felt.

“Oh, I know it’s you, but I’m asking about me and dear Jasper”

If he were in front of you, you would have punched him. But instead could only let out a frustrated groan and attempt to answer the question. There was only one way to do it.

“You” you mumbled, making sure your voice was barely coherent.

But of course, he heard you.

“I’m flattered” he had the smug tone nailed to the t.

“Fantastic” you sighed “Why did you call me?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice”

“Right”

“And to get you to answer the question”

“Of course” you sighed again “Now I should finish before Jasper barges in” That was partially an excuse, partially a real concern as you glanced nervously at the thin doors separating the rooms.

“Sure, don’t want you upsetting your husband. However, I’d love to see his face when he hears that I kiss better than him” Neil mused, and you gave yourself the liberty to just listen to his voice.

“Well, I’m not telling him that so feel free to do so when you meet up”

Your ears perked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Surely Jasper would not eavesdrop on you…?

“I’ve got to go, bye Neil” you hoped your tone sounded at least half as urgent as you felt.

“Goodbye, love. Don’t let that idiot get to you”

“I’ll try”

You hung up just as the doors to the bedroom opened. Sure enough, Jasper was stood there, with a scowl on his face.

“What were you doing?”

“Just being pathetic, I guess” you shrugged and walked past him without a glance.

[bookdancerfics]

climb a mountain (hold his hand)

Rated: T Word Count: 2.5k+ words Characters: Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Aaron Minyard Relationships: Andreil Warnings: Car Crash, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse Summary: Neil gets into a car crash; Andrew is the mountain he can lean on. Wherein I asked myself what would happen if Neil said those particular words again, i.e. “Thank you. You were amazing,” and it all spiraled from there.

Thanks to my beta, @queenofmoons67!

on AO3, ff.net

Neil wakes up with his vision sideways and gravity on the wrong side of the car. His chest feels tight, and he can’t take a proper breath; the seatbelt digs across his neck and down his chest, riding high because of the strange position of the car.

It’s the only thing keeping him from falling on broken glass, the passenger seat’s window shattered from when it crashed on concrete.

“Andrew,” Neil groans, the name struggling up his throat until it spills from his lips, lays broken in the quiet air around him.

No one answers, and Neil gazes at the empty passenger seat for a full minute, his chest aching for a whole new reason, before he remembers that Andrew was never in the car in the first place.

“Oh,” he says, and his head hurts. He can see trees through the windshield, a winding mountain path that looks familiar, but he can’t remember what happened. He was at the apartment. At their apartment. Neil stares at the car keys still hooked into the ignition, his apartment key hanging on the same key ring, in an attempt to remember more.

He was at home.

He was at home, he was at home, he was—Kevin was there. As soon as the other striker’s face crosses his mind, he sees the scene clearly. They were going over the opposing team’s data for their next game. They were crowded on the couch, Neil just barely brushing up against Andrew’s arm. He thinks there may have been ice cream. Kevin… Kevin left before dinner, to meet Thea. Neil and Andrew decided on take-away.

Neil breathes in, as deeply as his seatbelt allows him to, and catches a whiff of vegetable lo mein. He’d been on his way home.

He doesn’t expect the stab of pain that follows. It breaks from his chest, and suddenly the low ache becomes a harsh pulse, every breath digging fire into his lungs.

“Andrew,” Neil calls again, attempting to curl into himself, but the seatbelt and gravity combine to make his efforts useless. He doesn’t know why he keeps asking for his boyfriend. Dimly, he wonders if it’s the concussion, or if asking for Andrew has become a pain response.

He instinctively flinches, as if waiting for his mother’s hand, because relying on someone else when he’s in pain was something she should have beaten out of him long ago.

Nothing touches him.

Thinking of his mother wakes him, though, and Neil struggles even more to escape the fog that drifts through his mind. Definitely a concussion.

Neil tries to think of Andrew, of Kevin, of Dan, of Renee, of all his old teammates who could have had a clue about what to do in this situation.

Aaron.

They’re not friends. Not really. No matter how many times Nicky brings them together with a smile on his face, they just haven’t been able to click. Allison said they’re both too anti-social, and promptly started a new bet. Fifty bucks they’ll never say anything nice about each other face to face. Not even ruining Allison’s win streak gave them any motivation to do that. Neil couldn’t even think of anything at the time.

But here. Nicky used to help Aaron study for nursing exams all the time. Always out loud, always bothering Neil and Kevin as they tried to review other exy games.

“I need to say it for it to stick,” Aaron used to say.

I’m never saying thank you to your face, Neil thinks, but simultaneously tries to take stock of his situation.

The car rests on its passenger side, the darkening sky visible through the driver’s window. Neil is only still in his seat because of his seatbelt, but the same thing that saved him digs into his chest and throat, making it hard to breathe. Every breath sends jagged pain through his ribs, and Neil thinks about all of Aaron’s old med diagrams and hopes he isn’t in danger of puncturing a lung. He thinks it’s too late to hope he’ll get out of this without a broken rib.

The smell of vegetable lo mein still hangs in the air, and Neil wonders if there’s noodles all over the backseat of Andrew’s car. He’ll have to apologize later. He laughs at the thought, because when has he ever apologized to Andrew, but Neil’s laughter only shakes his head, reminding him that he shouldn’t be moving it. Pain courses through his head, and he tries to move his other limbs in order to focus on something else.

Bad idea.

As soon as Neil moves his left leg, he has to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from screaming. It won’t budge, caught on something under the steering wheel, and Neil tries to remind himself that he’s felt far worse. Tears won’t help him here.

His whole body aches and throbs now, piercing pain jolting his chest, leg, and head every time he even thinks about them.

Neil thinks back on Aaron’s study sessions, but he doesn’t want to try touching any of his injuries right now. Aaron, as usual, turned out to be useless.

“Fuck Aaron,” Neil whispers.

Instead, he turns to a different problem: Not staying in the wrecked car all night when the sun is going down. It’s late fall, and although his jacket is enough right now, Neil doesn’t think his body can handle exposure on top of everything else.

There’s not much he can do except use his phone to call someone, but that introduces yet another problem.

Using his phone means moving.

Neil doesn’t think of his mother here. He almost does, at first, because when he was running she was the only one to keep him going from town to town. But that’s not how he runs. Not anymore.

Neil pictures Andrew slipping a hand into his front pocket, possessive, and chases his boyfriend’s hand until he touches his own phone.

He punches in Andrew’s number, then struggles to lift the phone high enough. Finally, though, he gets it into his left hand and just rests it on his ear, the dialing noise coming through clearly.

“Neil,” Andrew answers, and Neil’s whole chest throbs.

“Andrew,” he says.

“Where are you? You should have been back already.”

“’m sorry,” Neil says, and he thinks his voice may be slurring.

“What?”

“Th’nk you,” Neil interrupts. His vision blurs, whether from tears or dizziness he doesn’t know, but he feels faint. He doesn’t have long before he passes out, so he just says the first thing that comes to mind. “You w’re ‘mazin’.”

“Neil,” Andrew says, and Neil would laugh if he had the breath to, because it almost sounds like Andrew is worried. “Where are you? What—”

Neil closes his eyes and lets his arm drop from where it rested by his head.

His phone falls, the tinny sounds of Andrew’s voice fading until Neil won’t be able to hear them.

It doesn’t matter; Neil isn’t awake to listen anyway.

***

In the end the sound of a car door slamming wakes him, forcing his eyes open. The world lays shattered across his vision. He blinks, and the world becomes darkness only to break again. When Neil focuses he realizes that he’s staring at the passenger side window, in pieces against the pavement.

“Andrew, wait!” someone calls, and Neil’s head jerks on instinct.

Andrew?

“Fuck off,” someone else says, their voice rough, and heavy, and Neil automatically knows that it would smell of cigarettes.

“There could be a gas leak,” the first voice says. Whoever it is apparently hasn’t stopped trying to block Andrew’s way, so either they’re very ignorant of who Andrew is or they’re an idiot. That or they’re Aaron.

Neil would bet all the earnings of every previous bet he’s won with the foxes that it’s Aaron.

“My car doesn’t leak,” Andrew snarls, and Neil snorts.

The sound stems from his chest but jostles his whole body, and suddenly everything hurts.

“‘n’drew,” he says, barely managing to moan out the name through his pain.

“Neil?” the first voice says. “It’s Aaron.”

Bingo.

“We’re standing in view of the windshield, can you look up?”

“Fuck,” Neil says.

“I bet,” Aaron says, and Neil rolls his head so that he’s holding it up. he stares out the windshield to see the twins illuminated in a pair of headlights, the world dark around them.

“150%,” Andrew says. Neil can’t help but smile at that, and Andrew scowls fiercely.

“Andrew,” Aaron says. “Go call 911. I’ll take it from here.”

“I thought I told you to fuck off?”

Aaron frowns at his twin. “Who knows more about what to do in this situation, Andrew? If it’s you then I’ll gladly step aside. But we both know it’s not.”

Andrew stares at Aaron, then turns.

“I hate you,” he tells Neil.

“I know,” Neil says.

Andrew flips Aaron off and walks away, aggressively pulling his phone out. As he punches in the numbers and greets the emergency operator, he keeps his gaze on Neil. On anyone else it would feel like being pinned down, unable to move. Neil feels it settle on him like a weighted blanket, and he lets it wrap around him. Safe.

“Can you smell gas?” Aaron asks, and Neil barely keeps himself from shaking his head.

“No,” he says instead.

Relief crosses Aaron’s face.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s good. I can’t see any spills but I wanted to make sure.”

Finally, Aaron approaches the car. His gaze skim over it, no doubt looking for ways to get Neil out.

“How’s your breathing? Anything blocking your airways?”

“No,” Neil says. “My breathing’s fine. I’m fine.”

Neil’s also impressed, he manages to make out Aaron’s eye roll even through the windshield and several feet away.

“No need to lie about that, idiot. You obviously have a nasty concussion and who knows how many other injuries. How about the truth?”

Again, Neil barely stops himself from replying physically.

“The seatbelt’s a bit tight,” he says instead. “You can see the head injury. I’ve broken at least one rib, but my lungs should be fine.” He’s quiet for a second, but he meets Andrew’s eyes and then looks back at Aaron. “Also my leg’s stuck.”

“Okay,” Aaron says, and then turns to Andrew. “Did you get all that?”

Andrew nods, short and sharp, keeping his gaze on Neil, and relays the information to the 911 operator. Aaron turns back to him.

“I just need to ask you some more questions, okay? In case you pass out again.”

“Haven’t passed out,” Neil protests, and Aaron stares at him, obviously exasperated.

“Yes you did, while you were on the phone with Andrew earlier. Andrew heard everything, you can’t deny this, Neil.”

Neil shrugs, and then hisses. Maybe Aaron isn’t so useless after all.

“What’s your name?” Aaron asks.

Never mind. He’s clearly delusional.

“You already know that,” Neil says.

Aaron sighs. “Not for me, for you. I’m making sure you haven’t forgotten anything. It’s also a concussion check, even though yours is pretty obvious. What’s your name?”

Neil grumbles. “Neil Josten.”

Aaron nods. “Do you know where you are?”

He glances around. “The forest. On a road. I’m in Andrew’s car.”

“Obviously,” Aaron says dryly. “Do you know what you were doing in Andrew’s car?”

“Driving.”

“Neil.”

“Getting…” Neil blinks, hard, as he tries to jog his memory. He thought for sure he knew this one. Didn’t he already figure this out?

“It’s okay if you can’t remember,” Aaron says. “Do you know what day it is?”

Neil takes a long, deep sniff.

“Vegetable lo mein,” he says.

“What?”

“There’s vegetable lo mein in the car,” he says. “Was I getting take-out?”

Aaron glances back at Andrew, who nods before yelling something into the phone.

“Yeah,” Aaron says. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Thursday,” Neil says instinctively. He’s not quite sure why, but it feels like a Thursday.

“Good,” Aaron says, and finally the relief returns to his face. “Do you know the specific date?”

Neil pauses, thinking. “Yesterday was July 14th. So today… July 15th.”

“Nicely done,” Aaron says. He turns back to Andrew. “You can tell the emergency operator that he’s out of it, and he took some prompting on a few of the questions, but he answered all of them.”

Neil just frowns. There’s something about that date. July 15th. Why would July 15th matter?

Suddenly it clicks.

“Exy!” he says, the word coming out in a gasp. July 15th, he has a game the next day. It’s summer: The middle of their season.

“Junkie,” Andrew spits.

Neil frowns at him, but struggles to reach his seatbelt. He needs to get out, needs to heal in time for the game. Needs to keep his deal with the Moriyamas.

“Neil, no,” Aaron says, instinctively stepping towards Neil only to find the car in his way. “You’re only going to make it worse.”

“Moriyamas,” Neil says, and finally makes contact with his seatbelt.

“Neil!” Aaron protests, and Neil sees Andrew start forward.

The seatbelt unclicks, and all of a sudden the pressure keeping him in place falls away. His whole body jerks sideways, headed for the ground, and the sight of broken glass reminds Neil why removing his seatbelt was a bad idea.

Then his left leg catches under the steering wheel again, and Neil screams, the sound ripping from his throat until it breaks.

He passes out.

***

He wakes for the third time to the feeling of someone pressing their fingers to his wrist.

“Fast but weak heartbeat,” the person reports. “And he’s clammy. Irregular breathing. Definitely in shock, someone get a blanket over here.”

“Hhhrrrgg,” Neil groans.

“He’s awake!” someone else says.

“Sir?” the first person asks. “Can you hear me?”

“Andrew,” he says. The second person repeats the name, this time as a question. The answer comes in the form of a soft touch on the back of his hand, so soft that Neil knows it must be Andrew. No one else has the ability to make the barest touch feel like a mountain he can lean on.

“Neil,” Andrew says, and Neil blinks his eyes open.

“Yes,” he murmurs, and Andrew’s hand curls around his, then squeezes.

“Hi, Neil,” the first voice from before says, and Neil follows it to a tall looking paramedic with blue hair. “You’re doing great, but we’re going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

“Mm,” Neil says. He tugs on Andrew’s hand, and Andrew lets him pull it to his chest. “Andrew?”

“I’m coming with you,” Andrew says, and if the paramedics have any doubt about that they only need to look him in the eyes to see otherwise.

They don’t run the siren in the ambulance, which Neil is a bit disappointed in because they do in all the movies and TV shows that Matt has made him watch, but at the same time Neil guesses it’s a good thing. No siren equals no dying, right?

He says so, and the second paramedic, this one with freckles and ginger hair, laughs and nods in confirmation. Andrew squeezes his hand tighter.

“You’re a mountain,” Neil tells him, and Andrew makes a face. Neil laughs.

“Probably the pain relief,” the ginger paramedic says.

“No,” Neil insists, “Andrew’s a mountain. Strong. Sturdy.” He pauses to laugh again. “But short.”

The ginger paramedic covers her mouth with one hand. Andrew’s face twitches.

“Andrew,” Neil says, and tries to pat Andrew’s hand only to find that he’s already holding it. He rubs his thumb over the side of Andrew’s hand instead.

“Junkie,” Andrew deadpans, but his eyes are locked on Neil’s, he looks paler than normal, and he’s been habitually checking his phone every few minutes.

“Andrew,” Neil says. He can’t remember what he wanted to say.

Andrew just sighs, long sufferingly, but his shoulders don’t look as tense so Neil counts it as a win. He falls asleep like this, to the steady feeling of Andrew’s hand in his.

When he wakes up again he’ll be in a hospital room with two bouquets and a box of chocolates. Andrew will have already eaten half, but he gets Neil water when he asks and when he turns the TV on it’s already at the exy channel. Neil’s phone has been filled with text messages from the Foxes and his current teammates, all wishing him some version of “get well soon.” One of the bouquets is from Katelyn, the other signed “Kevin” but clearly in Thea’s handwriting. Neil will wake later to Aaron reviewing his chart, and he’ll close his eyes to Aaron’s startled glare.

His leg is broken, and so are two of his ribs, and he has a concussion that will keep him out of play until the All-Star Break, if not longer. Ichirou Moriyama calls him personally to assure him that as he doesn’t lose money for not playing, he will still be expected to pay the agreed upon amount.

Wymack calls to check in, and his coach visits in person, and Andrew stays by his side the whole time.

When Neil falls asleep, it’s to Andrew’s hand in his, a mountain underfoot.

[xlady-saya]

if magic exists, you’re the closest thing [fic]

Relationships: andrew/neil, jerejean, side aaron/katelyn, side alvarez/laila

Summary: The concept of love is not one Andrew understands.

For a long time, it escaped him. It's always fuzzy, always distorted. He'd given up on it long ago, so why is he still chasing answers?

Whatever the reason, he's content to blame Jean Moreau for a lot of things, Katelyn too.

It's their fault he's here, at the happiest place on earth.

Tags: disneyland fic, andrew thinks a lot about love, fluff, comfort, references to canon abuse/past

Read on AO3!

Andrew never liked the concept of time travel; there’s no one distinct moment he’d go back to personally, no tragic world event he’d try to stop like in the movies.  

However, due to today’s events, he might just forgo that opinion to say he’d gladly go back to make sure Disneyland never existed.

Then, maybe he wouldn’t have to listen to Kevin’s nagging.

"You two cannot blow off Jeremy Knox!" Kevin rages, hands planted on the kitchen counter as Neil deftly works around him. Andrew's not quite sure what he's doing; he asked Neil for some ice cream a few minutes ago, and the sounds of clattering dishes and spoons are way more interesting than whatever Kevin is saying.

Andrew leans back into his beanbag chair, content to demolish Aaron in Mario Kart in the meanwhile.

"Yes we can," Neil says, like it's the simplest thing in the world. Andrew almost smirks.

It is; there's no way in hell Kevin's making them go to Disneyland on top of scouting recruits in California. Andrew doesn't understand why Queen Day can't just make another pit stop in Los Angeles after visiting the other recruit he has lined up in Washington.

Andrew exhales slowly, trying his best to keep his attention on the screen while he thinks about Neil. He's not sure when that became so difficult.

Alas, Andrew knows why he's being forced back to California. Neil cares far too much about Exy and his duties as vice-captain to miss out on something so essential. He picked out some of these recruits this time around, and he wants to see them in action. However, in this case it's not even one of his picks, and all they need to do is drop off paperwork. Neil has been trying, futilely, to convince Andrew he doesn't need to come.

The consideration is appalling. Andrew's grip on his controller is enough to make the plastic creak. Neil knows all too well California is a sore spot for him, but not the area they're going. Andrew couldn't care less.

Besides...Andrew's not letting Neil travel that far all alone.

Nothing, not even his past, is going to keep Andrew from going with him to make sure he doesn't die or worse. It wouldn't be a problem if Kevin were accompanying him, but he's got his own recruits to scout.

Neil is capable, Andrew thinks. He doesn't need protection, but it won't stop Andrew from offering it.

He chooses not to think about how one day, he'll have no choice but to stay behind. One day, he'll live apart from Neil and have to trust that he'll be okay.

He swallows down the dread he doesn't want to acknowledge, and claims first place.

"Motherfucker," Aaron spits, but immediately clicks the next level for them. If he can sense Andrew's mood, he doesn't comment, but...this helps.

And then he hits Andrew with a blue shell, and Andrew has to wonder why he shared a womb.

Andrew channels the uncertainty elsewhere, like kicking Aaron's ass and listening to Neil wave Kevin off. The rest of the time, he blames his nerves on the five hour flight he'll have to make in the very near future.

"We're not going," Neil says again, firmer this time. It's a tone that always sends Andrew's protective instincts into overdrive, Neil's temper flaring. But, it's just Kevin, which means there's more amusement than danger at play here.

Neil simply doesn't want to deal with it, so Andrew finds his voice. "Fuck off."

Kevin sputters, no doubt whipping around to where Andrew is sitting. He's not sure why Jeremy Knox is so set on taking them to Disneyland, but Andrew doesn't care enough to think about it. He's trying to do the bare minimum on their trip, and the USC Trojans are trying to make life difficult.

As Kevin groans on, Andrew hears the slightest indication of Neil stepping towards him. Neil's walk is distinct, in that it's nonexistent. Andrew often tests his hearing on how well he can sense Neil's approach.

And then, Neil is in front of him, and the world narrows until it's just Neil, crouched down with a bowl in his hands. Andrew hates what he's begun to call the Neil Effect, since it really has no concrete explanation, at least not an acceptable one. He gets second place in the game, and ignores Aaron's gloating for once. He'll get him back later.

There's something proud in Neil's eyes, self-directed, and that's when Andrew looks down to the bowl of ice cream.

Ah, now he remembers.

They hadn't been able to go grocery shopping, so the only thing in the freezer was boring vanilla. Disappointing, but Andrew's sweet tooth didn't care at the time. He needed dessert, no matter how lackluster.

However, this isn't just vanilla ice cream. There's large chunks of Snickers and peanut butter cups mixed in, haphazardly so, but well enough that someone obviously put in the effort.

Someone being...

Andrew looks between the bowl and Neil's steadily brightening expression, unwilling to linger on the fact Neil took the time to become a Cold Stone apprentice for the sole purpose of pleasing Andrew. It's all a waste though, because when he takes the bowl from Neil's hands, the reluctant words come out anyways.

"You're it for me."

It's not really a confession, since Andrew has known this for a while, but it still stings his pride a bit.

Neil blinks at him, tilting his head in that way that has Andrew glaring extra hard. "Hm?"

"Nothing."

He shoves the biggest spoonful he can manage into his mouth, and deserves the icy burn he gets for it.

Thankfully, before Neil can pry, Kevin is back at it again. Andrew's not sure if it's for better or worse.

The Queen himself rounds on them, blocking the television. "One of the best strikers from one of the top teams invited you to hang out for the day," he says, solely at Neil. He knows well enough that Andrew doesn't care about ranks. "How does that not excite you?"

An appropriate question, though. Why wouldn't it excite Neil?

"I don't know anything about Disneyland."

Neil plops down next to Andrew, indifference well conveyed. However, Andrew knows better. The restlessness in Neil's muscles is slight, but not surprising. There's a lot of things Neil doesn't know about, and while he normally wouldn't care, the idea of a place known for crowds of people probably isn't something Neil wants to explore.

It's not like the striker grew up with any exposure to the hundreds of movies or songs.

"It's an amusement park you loser," Aaron chimes in, and Neil scowls at him. Andrew pauses mid bite, surprised. A little. His brother's brand of comfort is the exact opposite of the what the word entails; it's a contrary, scathing thing, nearly as bad as Andrew's. But Andrew can detect it still, and that was definitely it.

Not that Neil would know though. The striker crosses his arms and sticks out his tongue, but Aaron's attention is already on getting Kevin the fuck out of his way.

"I don't care, I don't want to go," Neil responds petulantly, the words eaten up by the harsh impact of a pillow hitting Kevin's stomach.

At least he moves enough for Aaron's game to resume.

In the middle of Neil's protests, the door opens, admitting another one of Andrew's problems.

And she's unpredictable on top of it.

"Hi sweetie," Katelyn calls, punctuated by the slam of the front door. Andrew tries not to cringe at the name, nor his brother's dreamy sigh as Katelyn waves at them all. She walks over to kiss Aaron on the cheek before her attention is back on Neil's constipated face, which she blows past without a second thought. Oh, to be a cheerleader. "Go where?"

Kevin tears his gaze away from Aaron at the reminder. "Neil, you have to go to Disneyland, just fucking deal with it. You might be able to get some helpful pointers from Jeremy. Plus, don't you want to check on Jean?"

A cheap trick, and one that absolutely sours Andrew's mood despite the sweetness in his mouth. The protective itch is back from hearing Moreau's name, and he tugs Neil a little closer out of necessity.

Another reason for them not to go: Andrew's not sure he can stop himself from murdering the ex-Raven. Victim of Riko or not, he'd put his hands on Neil.

"If he wasn't doing okay I'm sure he would've reached out on his own," Neil counters, seeing through Kevin's appeal to sympathy. Neil, while he gets along with Jean better now, doesn't worry about him nearly as much as Kevin does.

Kevin can visit him then, if he's so curious.

As if Andrew said the words aloud, Kevin's stare intensifies. "Are you kidding--"

"Wait," Katelyn interrupts without care, and Andrew actually looks at her. He's been giving her that privilege a lot more now. Not everyone is dumb or brave enough to cut Kevin off, and even the striker looks impressed. Andrew's immediately thrown by the quality of her stare, the determination. Neil makes a strained noise in the back of his throat, and well, he does know Katelyn better. "You guys are talking about Disneyland? Like...Disneyland Disneyland?"

The existence of a knock-off Disneyland is certainly a topic Andrew will explore with Neil later.

"Oh no," Aaron whispers, and that's all the warning they get.

Neil leans further into Andrew's personal space, almost guarding. Like he senses the catastrophe too. "Uhh, yeah?"

Katelyn screams.

Andrew's hand on the back of Neil’s neck keeps him from jumping out of their seat, but Katelyn's got a one track mind as she rushes for him, plopping down on the ground as Aaron checks his ears for ringing.

The only satisfying part is that Katelyn pushes Kevin out of the way in the process. He goes reeling back with a yelp, very unbecoming of royalty.

"Oh my god! Neil you have to go, it's so fun!" Katelyn cheers, clapping her hands together softly. She chooses then to show Neil her backpack, adorned with about 100,000 Disney pins. Just an estimate.

As if Neil knows what any of them are. Neil barely blinks at Elsa's face before Katelyn's back to talking his ear off. "I've been trying to get Aaron to go with me for months but we don't ever have the time. I have a super long list of stuff I want! If I give you the money will you get them for me?"

Katelyn bites her lip rather hard then, like she almost let a 'please' slip, and Andrew doesn't try to think about the consideration. Katelyn clasps her hands together instead, like a plea.

Andrew figures the only reason her forehead isn't on the floor is because she knows better than to have any faith in a boys' dorm room.

"Whoa, whoa," Neil says, raising his hands in the face of Katelyn's puppy eyes. "I'm not going--"

The puppy eyes turn into those of a Rottweiler. Andrew doesn't know why all his previous judgements are being so twisted on this mediocre Thursday night, but whatever.

"Neil," Katelyn breathes, patience tested. "It's the happiest place on Earth."

Andrew's eyes flit to Neil's, communicating the same thing: bullshit.

Neil's confused expression falls into downright boredom, watching Andrew swirl the remains of his dessert. "Katelyn, I don't know how to tell you this, but I actually don't care."

Aaron wheezes at the same time Katelyn deflates.

"Josten--"

"B-but..." Katelyn turns her shining eyes on Aaron, cutting off his warning like a shiv. Andrew almost doesn't want to watch his brother be this pathetic. "Aren't I right, babe? Neil just has to experience it, he has to!"

Andrew hears Kevin open a bag of chips.

"I--um," Aaron tries, glancing between Neil and Katelyn's pout. It takes him about...two attempts to make words. "Yeah Josten, you have to."

"Wow," Kevin mutters, off to the side.

Neil glares at Aaron's weakness, but he had to know Aaron would be useless from the start. Aaron can't say no to his girlfriend.

What a loser.

"Katelyn, I'm not going," Neil tries again, dutifully not looking at the Disney-vomit backpack Katelyn keeps inching closer to him. "Andrew and I are just stopping by to drop off paperwork for one of Kevin's new recruits and that's it."

Kevin takes a deep breath, like he remembers he started this argument in the first place, but is cut off by Katelyn's backpack hitting the floor.

Neil is the only one who seems to take it as a threat, and he holds up a hand for Kevin to shut up. Now, Andrew knows most mafia movies are unrealistic and stupid, but he thinks he's had enough actual exposure to make a good guess.

This feels like some kind of standoff between two troublesome redheads, and he meets Aaron's confused stare with his blank one.

He wishes everyone would get out of his dorm.

"Okay, I get it," Katelyn says slowly, words spaced out by deep breaths for effect. Andrew would think she's a theater major, not biology. Neil watches Katelyn's hands fold in front of her, eyes hard. "I didn't want to have to do this."

Neil quirks a brow, somewhat amused.

"Neil."

"Katelyn."

"You owe me," she says, and the room freezes. Owe. Haha. That's a very dangerous word to toss around in the presence of Andrew Minyard, especially concerning his boyfriend who he's sworn to protect. Andrew turns on her with a frown, but she's undeterred by his ominous stance, fixed solely on Neil. "From the time. With the thing."

Katelyn flips her wrist back and forth then, an almost meaningless gesture, and no one knows what she's talking about

Except for Neil.

The striker's face goes red, and Andrew chooses then to squeeze the back of his neck tighter. Neil's not panicking, Andrew knows, but it's an instinct. Katelyn's smug smile is starting to piss him off, and he shakes Neil sharply.

"Neil," he says, voice even despite the tension in his limbs. "What--"

"We're going to fucking Disneyland," Neil says with a groan, slumping into the edge of the beanbag chair. He looks far from distressed, more...like he's been bested.

Katelyn cheers, jumping up to hug Aaron, who still has no idea what's going on.

Same.

"I'll get my list ready!" Katelyn rips out her science notebook, nearly tearing some neatly written equations. Not that she cares, in the moment. "Oh Neil, you're the best!"

Andrew drags Neil by the chin until their gazes meet, and Andrew hates when Neil looks sheepish. It means he's up to no good. "Neil, she can't force you to--"

"She's not forcing me," Neil sighs, tugging Andrew's sleeve until he lets their fingers link together. Neil's smile is rueful as he slots his eyes over to where Katelyn is scribbling on her homework, and he makes sure no one is watching when he slides Andrew's hand against his cheek. "Trust me when I say...I made the bed I'm about to lie in. I honor my deals too. Okay?"

Neil is such a problem, because he knows Andrew too well. He grinds his teeth, but he comes up with no argument. It's Katelyn, so it's not like the deal Neil made is anything life threatening or degrading, but Andrew's curiosity is annoying regardless.

Maybe when his pride dies down a little, he'll ask.

"Whatever you say," he scoffs, but keeps Neil's hand tucked against his side. "I still didn't agree to--"

Andrew looks down to where Neil fiddles with his shackle bracelet, still shining around his wrist because of how well the striker takes care of it. Neil tilts his head, and oh, oh no.

Andrew glares at the offending gift, given by his own hands and delicately tied around Neil's wrist. If he knew it would be this much of a weakness, he would've thrown it in the ocean.

"Andrew?" Neil asks, squeezing his hand, and Andrew doesn't know what to do other than curse Katelyn, himself, and then Walt Disney.

"I hate you," he mutters, and Neil's all too happy to hear it.

--

It takes Andrew about five minutes or so to determine that Jean Moreau is in love with Jeremy Knox.

It takes even less time for Andrew to decide he doesn't give a fuck. In fact, Andrew's not sure why he notices in the first place. He doesn't care about those things, but maybe it's just that they're so obvious, Andrew's can't help but pick up on it.

The long glances, the way Jeremy keeps reaching up to fix the stupid headband on Jean's head...

Gross.

The landscape in Andrew's mind has a tremble in it today, so there's no way for him to tell for sure why the two of them are so apparent to him. The air around him gives him a lot of things to linger on; disjointed laughter, cheery music, and less upsetting, the smell of fried desserts. It ties a rope around his brain and leads him in different directions, leaving only Neil as his weight. No wonder the Jean Moreau shitshow managed to slip in there somewhere.

Andrew doesn't even have the energy to be annoyed at that, at his inability to reign himself in and decide what to cast aside or focus on. His gaze scans the massive crowd in front of him, behind him, painfully aware that he's surrounded.

That Neil is surrounded.

He sighs, and the sound makes his boyfriend flinch in relief. Like he forgot Andrew was there, and is now all too happy that he is.

Calm down, junkie.

Andrew's fingers itch for a cigarette, but that ship had sailed as soon as he stepped through the Disneyland entrance. He thinks this, but he's actually not particularly anxious. He's not Neil, who needs to know all the quickest ways out of a place and who takes a large crowd as an invitation to slip in and disappear.

That's mostly where the itch comes from, Andrew realizes with only some irritation; he's hyper-aware of Neil, and all his reactions. The striker keeps glancing around at the streams of people, the bright colors and signs inviting them to a landscape with no laws or reason.

It should be everything Neil hates, and Andrew watches his blue eyes trace the cobblestone and directories.

"Beautiful isn't it!" Jeremy gestures to the road leading up to main street, and some of the tension in Jean's shoulders notably dissipates. "Did you know Disneyland brings in an average of--"

"50,000 people a day," Jean deadpans, as if the thought still makes him queasy. He gets a genuine laugh out of Jeremy for it, so Andrew guesses that was the point all along.

Andrew remembers everything, and he did not need that useless fact. But alas, now it's stuck.

Neil's body is surprisingly still beside him. Calm.

Andrew pauses, waiting for Neil to show some sign that he can't handle this. It's not a reflection of any kind of weakness Andrew thinks he has, he simply knows that sometimes Neil pushes himself where he shouldn't. Andrew considers this a loophole in their non-finalized deal. He lets Neil fight his own battles, but Andrew is not afraid to step in and put a stop to the ones Neil doesn't know he's in.

But, to Andrew's unintentional relief, Neil doesn't look two seconds from a panic attack. The striker’s face settles into a deadpan expression, a habit stolen from Andrew himself. There's no tremble, or fidgeting, or sign to tell Andrew to drag Neil back to their hotel and hole him up there.

Neil simply looks fucking done, and Andrew couldn't agree more.

Their unfortunate companions are there to remind them it's only the beginning.

"Oh my god, what should we do first?" Jeremy Knox babbles, stupid Mickey ears on his head, and Andrew watches with only some amusement as Neil leans back an inch in fear. The striker never did know what to do with genuinely happy people. Katelyn, he's come to understand based on the things they have in common. Their protective instincts and tempers ghost over her sheltered lifestyle and talkativeness, though Andrew still doesn't get how Neil stands her. Renee he simply hadn't trusted; Neil had seen the darkness beneath the smiles, but in time, he'd come to trust and value her as well.

Jeremy Knox is a different story, and currently even Andrew doesn't know how to feel about him. Such optimism and ignorance to the real world are things Andrew would normally write off in a person, but there's something swimming beneath the surface in Jeremy Knox's eyes that has him rethinking.

In short, Andrew gets the vibe that if pushed far enough, Jeremy Knox might actually have the capacity to snap over Disneyland. Disneyland.

That kind of madness is something Andrew can't help but recognize in people, and he keeps an eye on Neil as a result. He should've known; who gets custom Disney ears the color of their fucking school?

"Uh..." Neil tries, but he's apparently speechless. Andrew reaches down to tug on Neil's belt loop, and he won't ever say it's out of comfort. Neil takes it like one though, scooting closer, and the urge for nicotine is less powerful for a moment.

There's no avoiding it, and he despises feeling trapped. They're going to have to spend their whole day here. It really isn't their kind of place, but Andrew has not right to wonder how they got roped into this.

Andrew glares at Neil’s bag. He didn’t bring it for them.

That's why they're here, because Neil has a two-page souvenir list in his backpack courtesy of Aaron's girlfriend.

Andrew's scowl returns at the memory, and he turns it on Jean.

Just because.

"Jean, what's your favorite ride?" Jeremy asks, eyes shining. Neither Andrew nor Neil asked for the recommendation.

"Indiana Jones," Jean answers, seemingly without thinking too hard on it, and his eyes shine when Jeremy beams.

"Mine too!"

Gag.

Andrew's opinion of Jean Moreau has not improved over the past year. Andrew promised Neil he wouldn't confront the man while they were actually at the park, but it's a talk Andrew will eventually have if he has anything to say about it.

He's different though, that much Andrew can tell. The backliner still curls in on himself, making himself as small as can be despite his height. The tattooed '3' is dark against his pale skin, but the sun has taken out some of the starkness. Jean always keeps his hands in front of himself, as if ready to guard against an attack, but his shoulders are less stiff around his new team.

They're observations, nothing more. Andrew couldn't care less about Jean Moreau's life or happiness. It's all his own to deal with, but Andrew cannot ignore the changes, since they mirror Neil's own.

Speaking of Neil...

He's still trying to find a polite way of telling Jeremy he has zero clue about what Disneyland has to offer, and Andrew notes that Neil must've sensed it too: Jeremy's batshit opinion about this place. Otherwise Neil would never hold back the usual bluntness.

Andrew would pay to see it.

Jean tugs one of Jeremy's Mickey ears, gesturing to the entrance. "The girls are here."

Neil's demeanor breathes a little when he sees Laila and Alvarez approaching; he likes them, and even Andrew knows they're not nearly as annoying as their teammates. They're walking hand in hand, the same Trojan ears glistening on their heads.

What is it with these people?

Andrew lets the greetings fall into the background, but can't say he feels awful when Laila cracks some dumb Exy pun, making the edge of Neil's lips twitch in a smile.

Another thing the girls have to offer: they seem to know when Jeremy is about to launch into another tirade.

"Jeremy cool it," Alvarez says, holding Jeremy back by the hoodie before he can get anywhere further into Neil's bubble. "Neil's not going to remember everything about all the different sections, just let him explore."

For a split second, Jeremy's face scrunches up, like he ate something foul. "He needs to know not to go to....that place."

Laila rolls her eyes. "You mean Star Wars--"

"Stop."

Laila turns her aggravated stare on her girlfriend, but all Alvarez offers is a shrug. "He's right."

Neil turns to Andrew as if he'll understand, but he does not.

Jeremy's eyes flit around the park to all the decorations, the crowd a sea of Mickey ears, planning out where to drag them. And the rest of them allow it. Team dynamics don't interest Andrew much, but they're not following Jeremy out of fear. They're treating this journey, along with Jeremy's eccentricities, as inevitable and maybe even endearing.

Andrew wants to leave.

Then Jeremy gasps, staring down at his empty hands. "Neil, you and Andrew have never been here right? Maybe I should've gotten you a map, for the experience, you know?" Then Jeremy tilts his head up, in that haughty way Kevin might after lecturing them on an exy skill he acquired. "It's fine though, I know where everything is. You're in good hands!"

Andrew seriously doubts that.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Jeremy says, plopping his giant backpack on the floor. Andrew wonders if he packed for the possibility of them being stuck there for eternity. It's a gift for Jeremy Knox to be able to make Andrew's day that much worse. He pulls out two custom sets of ears from his backpack, styled in white and orange. Palmetto colors.

No.

"You guys can match," Jeremy says with a wink, and Neil looks torn. On one hand they're orange, on the other hand they're absurd.

But of course, Neil's obsession wins over, and he grabs for a pair of ears without hesitation.

Andrew can't.

"I'm not wearing those," Andrew states, uncaring of how the rest of them flinch. Neil's the only one not surprised, but he's giving Andrew that face, and Andrew has to hold himself back from telling Neil to stop.

We're in public, control yourself.

But Neil just sighs, fixing the ears to his head. They clash with Neil's reddish-brown hair, bright and sparkly.

Andrew hates being gay.

He ignores Jean's glare as Jeremy holds the other pair of ears to his chest. More evidence, Andrew realizes, and the pathetic kind too. Jean can't stand the thought of someone hurting his not-boyfriend's feelings.

"O-oh," Jeremy says, but his smile is back, undeterred. He spins to face Neil, who miraculously, doesn't flinch. "Well, I guess I'll wear them then! Neil, you and I can match! I don't want you to be alon--"

The stream of consciousness in Andrew's head comes to a jarring halt, tires screeching.

Unacceptable, absolutely not. He doesn't even have a moment to think about why, or stop himself from being so ridiculous.

He snatches the ears from Jeremy's hands and puts them on, refusing to meet Neil's smug stare.

"Shut up."

And thankfully, Neil does, but others do not.

"He's as bad as you babe," Laila whispers behind him, and he practically feels the heat radiating off Alvarez.

"Can it."

Andrew catches Jean's sigh of relief in his peripheral, and isn't quite sure why he agreed to not kill him in the happiest place on Earth.

"You guys look great!" Jeremy comments, but Andrew is already walking ahead, eager to be anywhere else.

That, and he's pretty sure the churros are this way.

Neil keeps up with him easily, given his strong legs, even knowing Andrew is deliberately trying to not look at him. Neil's gaze is a warm, affectionate thing, one Andrew will never be used to. Neil's so distracted, he almost trips, and Andrew hooks his arm around Neil's waist to right him. They're connected for merely a second, but Andrew's arm feels like it's on fire.

"Focus," he growls, but Neil doesn't take it as a threat. He never does.

"Mm, I can't," Neil says. "I like them. I like them on you."

"They're hideous."

"So our uniforms are hideous?"

"Yes."

They reach the churros, and Neil buys him three.

Jeremy starts to babble again as Andrew digs in, and Andrew can't help but notice he buys Jean one without being asked. The ex-Raven doesn't look super pleased with the sweetness, but he eats it anyways.

And throughout all the chatter, Jean won't stop staring right at Jeremy.

Why does Andrew keep noticing? He might just be able to blame Katelyn for that too.

Ever since he picked her up from Eden's, she's been responsible for a lot of unacceptable thoughts in his head. All because of one, stupid line of reasoning.

"I know, I know a lot of people use the word and they don't mean it, or they don't act like it but...that's on them. That's not real love, the actual thing, the definition. Just because people use the word incorrectly doesn't mean the feeling isn't real."

Real love. Already, there's so many things wrong with that phrase. Katelyn doesn't see it as subjective, Andrew doesn't see it as anything at all. Devotion, protective, consideration...they are all things people would perhaps put towards the definition, but they neglect the absences as well. Absence of hurt, of blame, of judgement.

That's the half so many people don't get right, and even if they do, Andrew cannot see how it could be wrapped up in a word.

He watches Jean sigh and lean into Jeremy's sphere, and thinks of how his brother looks at Katelyn. It's eerily similar.

Andrew would not use the word love normally, so he reaches in to pluck Katelyn's idiotic definition out from the past to see if it applies. The pretty parts are there; Jeremy is constantly aware of Jean's presence, careful to steer him to the edges of crowds, to check if he's alright. On the opposite end of things, Jean just looks like he'd burn the so called happiest place on Earth to the ground if it meant being able to listen to Jeremy's prattle.

He's not willing to analyze much more than that, not with Neil by his side. It puts pressure on the stone in him, dropped there by Katelyn that night at Eden's and steadily growing with every moment he spends around his boyfriend.

"I think we should definitely go on Indy though," Jeremy says, leaning in to take a bite of Jean's churro. It's so stupidly romantic Andrew wants to vomit. "I want to see Jean get scared again!"

The girls smirk, though a minute later Alvarez is teasing Laila just the same. Jean's face is colored red, not with shame, but innocent embarrassment. Not becoming of a Raven, but then again, Jean never wanted to be one.

"I was not scared, I had never been on the ride before!" Jean crosses his arms, and his teammates look at him in the way the Foxes look at Neil. Complete adoration.

"It scared him to death," Jeremy says to Andrew and Neil, trying very poorly to whisper.

And, without breaking eye contact with Jean, Andrew says: "If only."

Because really, if only.

Jean's the only one besides Neil who takes the statement as intended, as in completely seriously. The backliner's face goes white, staring at Andrew and waiting for it to be a joke. He has to know deep down it's not.

Jeremy holds his stomach from how hard he's laughing. "Ha! You're a riot Andrew," he wheezes, and Neil regards him as neutrally as he can. It's hard, when Jeremy sounds like a dying seagull.

Andrew pulls out his phone, avoiding Neil's gaze. Technically, he only promised not to physically confront Jean at Disneyland, nothing else. "That's me, comedy king."

Without looking up, Andrew opens his notes app and sidesteps Jeremy until he's closer to Jean. He has no qualms about calmly typing out the words 'I despise you' before showing it to him.

Honestly, no other Raven is this easy to read, but Andrew supposes it has more to do with Jean's complete revival than anything else.

Jean reads the message, blinks, looks at Neil as if to confirm his suspicions, and then nods slowly.

Well, now he knows. It'll be a good way to put a pin in things for now.

When Andrew walks back over to his churro holder (see: Neil), the redhead is shaking his head, grin way fonder than it should be.

--

It takes around fifteen minutes for them to ditch the group, and for Andrew to stuff his pair of ears into Neil's backpack to never see the light of day again.

It's absurdly easy, they barely have to duck into the crowd or put their heads down. Despite Jeremy's insistence that Andrew and Neil see all there is to see, he'd hardly taken his eyes off Jean. In fact, the two are so engrossed in each other they barely notice the girls, who seem to weirdly not mind.

Jeremy is the talker, and Jean is only too happy to go along with it, soaking in every nonsense opinion even when he seems to not understand the relevance or importance. Andrew wonders if this so called 'love' truly makes people that uncaring, but then again, he knows it does. He's watched his brother fawn over every dumb little detail of Katelyn's life. Once, she'd gone on a ten minute tangent about her colored pencil coordinated note taking system. Aaron had been fascinated, not because he cared about the content of the words, but because of Katelyn herself.

Andrew doesn't understand, but his mind conjures up the image of Neil peeking over the top of a bus seat, the hours floating by.

They find a good spot to sit down on Main Street near the castle, perfect for the people watching Neil likes to do. Andrew's on his third churro with a fourth lined up, and if Neil's wallet is crying about it, he doesn't seem to mind. The striker's legs dangle lazily from the bench they're on, swinging in time with the cheery music blaring through the speakers. Andrew brought him here to escape the crowd; Neil always preferred to watch, to catalogue the different types of people. Disneyland, at the very least, should have an interesting variety for Neil to judge and pick apart for the nonsensical survival guide in his head.

Page ninety-two: signs of regret-filled parents. That's how Andrew would guess it's organized.

But no, Neil's staring right at him. Andrew could feel it mid chew, the striker's gaze penetrating and brighter than any of the thousand balloons he's seen flying around.

Andrew managed to hold out for about half a churro, no longer, before giving in.

Neil's triumphant smile is an indication he was all too aware of the game.

"Are they good?" Neil asks, and it's enough to make Andrew pause. He watches the way Neil adjusts those stupid ears on his head, the way he licks his lips to mimic the place Andrew assuredly has sugar on his own.

Rather than answer, and before he does something stupid, he shoves the end of the churro into Neil's mouth. It's not an uncommon occurrence.

Neil barely yelps before dutifully taking a bite. Andrew waits for the usual scrunch of his nose, the disgust at the sweetness. Still, Neil will never refuse something Andrew offers him.

"Not bad," Neil says, chewing slow. There's sugar on his lips now too, and Andrew realizes he made an error. "Still too much sugar."

Unheard of. There's no such thing.

With a scoff, Andrew wipes the excess sugar off Neil's lips with his thumb. "You disgust me, Josten."

It doesn't sound as convincing as it used to, and Neil's triumphant smile only grows wider. Only then does he sigh and lean back, staring into the sea of people who love wasting money. Andrew will never get the fascination.

There's a good distance between them on the bench which Neil hasn't tried to close, and won't until Andrew says otherwise. Andrew's not in the mood to feel his weight, not today. It wasn't brought on by anything specific, but Neil abides like he always does.

Neil doesn't seem any less content.

"I can't believe they haven't noticed we're gone," the redhead says, far from disappointed. The relief is something Andrew can relate to. It's been about an hour, and they've done nothing, but Andrew knows he's having a better time this way.

The last thing he wants is to watch Jean and Jeremy obliviously flirt and fawn over one another with no outlet. Andrew's not sure if they'd be worse if they were actually dating, and part of him considers just dropping the bomb on them to ruin any kind of movie moment they might have at this godforsaken place.

"I can," Andrew mutters, but doesn't elaborate. He's sure Neil hasn't actually noticed the pining, not with Andrew nearby, and certainly not with everything else going on. He doesn't need to know, because then they might have to talk about it.

Andrew doesn't have all the words for that yet.

Neil hums, interpreting the words in his own way. "Jean does seem...better. I guess he would be more focused on his friends. At least now Kevin will stop complaining, I'll get to tell him Jean's doing just great."

The topic of Jean Moreau isn't much better.

He's not able to keep all of his glower locked down, and he ends up making a passing school teacher flinch. "I don't care how he is," he says through his teeth, and Neil stiffens.

Yeah, wrong thing to bring up. Not as bad as the times Neil will drop his mother into conversation, but not good regardless.

Neil sighs, fiddling with his bracelet again. It's what he does when he wants to touch Andrew but won't. "Andrew, Jean is--"

Andrew turns the intensity of his stare on Neil. They've had this talk before, and he's not trying to bring it up again. Contrary to what other people may believe, he's not adverse to having difficult conversations with Neil. Arguments, even.

They happen, but...

There's something about it; Andrew won't say it's comfortable, but he simply knows it won't change anything. He and Neil disagree sometimes, but it seldom turns into a screaming match or the silent treatment. More often than not, Andrew's willing to keep coming back to a topic if it means they reach a compromise. He doesn't yield that way for anyone else, but Neil doesn't make it feel like submission or defeat. It's why it doesn't make Andrew nearly as antsy as he originally believed it would, when they started their this. For them, it's problem-solving.

This however...this is one thing Andrew can't excuse. Not yet, maybe not ever. They keep having to step away.

"Don't," Andrew says. Neil's eyes hold no fear, and they shouldn't. Andrew's not saying it unkindly, it's the truth. "Whatever you say will not change my mind. Not with this."

Not when it comes to people hurting what's mine.

Andrew's hands curl into the edge of the bench, the splitting wood a comfort. He's strong, his hands have the power to kill, to fend off. Why that's so important in this moment...

When Neil still doesn't look like he understands, Andrew reaches forward to flick the shackle pendant around his wrist, almost on instinct.

And well, guess it's become a weakness for them both.

Neil sighs, and bites his tongue in a rare show of restraint. The striker keeps back every counterpoint and argument, which he surely has handfuls of, and puffs out his cheeks. Any other moment it would be...maybe not so annoying.

But not cute.

Some of the trembling in Andrew's frame leaves; he's not dumb enough to think this is over, Neil is too stubborn. But for now, the striker accepts it.

Though, not without being infuriating. Neil's gaze pierces him, sticking Andrew to the spot.

"I'm safe with you Andrew," Neil breathes, and Andrew's not willing to acknowledge how Neil quickly aims for the root of the problem. It's a spike through Andrew's chest. Again, Neil races ahead of Andrew's own thought process at the most random times.

So that's it. Andrew thinks. A promise.

It won't happen again. Neil has no way of knowing that, but he wants Andrew to believe it; nothing will hurt Neil so severely again because Andrew won't allow it. Andrew will thrash and bleed before it happens again, but Jean Moreau is a reminder that it can, even when most of the guilt falls on a dead man. There will always be others, lurking in the shadows. Weapons, threats.

But still, with all his paranoia, Andrew can't even tell Neil to be quiet, because to refute such a statement feels wrong in a number of ways. Neil's trust is something he earned.

Andrew hums instead, and refuses to repeat the obvious. Instead, he pushes Neil back by the shoulder, his back hitting the bench and forcing Neil to loosen up.

Better.

"I can't believe a place like this exists," Neil sighs, giving into the calm Andrew lends him. Andrew's not sure if he means it from the perspective of a runaway or not. Disneyland would be an enigma to most people with Neil's past.

"You don't feel happy?" Andrew says with a sneer, taking in the fighting families and crying children. He knows there's equal parts people smiling and having fun, and he's choosing to center himself on the negatives, but he's not in the mood to apply Bee's advice for once.

"Well if I did it would be because of you," Neil says, grin smug from the stare Andrew turns on him. No one needs his sappiness. "But I don't really like that word."

Haha.

Andrew pokes Neil in the leg, more like a jab, and Neil jumps. "Stop stealing my lines."

Neil snorts. "I just meant in terms of this place. Doesn't it feel untrustworthy from the get-go if you advertise your park as the happiest place? It can't actually be."

It's amazing how hard Neil's brain works when it comes to unimportant topics. "Careful, if Jeremy hears you he'll have a meltdown."

"That would be interesting though."

"And potentially homicidal."

Andrew makes a note to bring Kevin if he ever has to return here. Kevin won't be able to keep his distaste hidden, and he'll get to really test the Jeremy Knox theory.

"Have you ever been to an amusement park?" Neil asks a moment later, voice low. Treading lightly.

It's not a particularly bad memory for Andrew though, and he only shrugs. He's no longer shocked about how much he talks to Neil. It's easy, not draining.

"Mostly for school, I wouldn't waste time with the rides," Andrew says, and feels the memory of old dollar bills in his hands. Sometimes he'd be lucky enough for his foster homes to provide him money for food, sometimes not. "Carnivals were easier. I could just go off and find some abandoned corner to smoke or wait it out."

No one ever cared to come looking for him.

Despite his sweet tooth, he seldom had the actual money to spoil himself with the fried foods either. He makes up for that now, obviously.

Speaking of, he wants a frozen lemonade at some point.

Neil's eyes are devoid of pity, but Andrew knows he could quickly turn that understanding gaze into a rage-fueled one if he chose to provide any of the details.

He doesn't. He never enjoyed things like amusement parks, and he doesn't mind either way if Neil does, but part of him is simply at ease, here on this stupid bench.

Neil's protection can't reach back into the past, no matter how badly the striker would like it to.

"Everyone always talked about Disneyland as the best place in the world," Andrew offers instead, waving his hand around. If anything, the sheer size of the park is the most impressive thing about it. The other kids in his classes couldn't let it go; family vacations, dream dates, etc.

The hype around the park never died down no matter how Andrew aged.

Compared to Neil sitting next to him, the park is without.

"And your verdict?" Neil asks anyways, because he tries not to assume when he can.

Andrew's not sure why his heart reacts the way it does to that.

Neil's stupid ears pair with his Palmetto hoodie perfectly, and he looks like the pumpkin Cinderella would've taken to the ball. The fierceness of him isn't softened in the slightest by it though, his vulnerability comes from his eyes, the way all his alarms become inactive in Andrew's presence.

Andrew craves it, this complete, unyielding trust.

He hates how Neil can make any situation interesting.

"It's annoying," Andrew eventually says, rolling up his churro wrapper into a tight ball. He misses the trash can when he tosses it, and ignores the disgruntled stare he gets for it from a park worker. "Not awful."

Neil straightens up, too proud of himself. "Are you saying that because of the churros or because I'm here?"

"Be quiet."

Neil, because his death wish inclination isn't as active today, doesn't point out the non-answer. The striker just hands him money for another churro, though he's considering beignets.

Neil watches the way Andrew stares at the money, seemingly content to allow Andrew this indulgence. "I remember kids talking about it when I was younger. I could never understand why such a crowded place could be so fun. Much less the lines or overpriced food. But..."

Andrew clutches the money tight, but it's a poor substitute for Neil's hand. "But?"

"But well, it's not like I ever got the chance to try it out." Neil gestures to the precise decorations, the ornate buildings, and his eyes flit down the trolley lines like they remind him of a destination far worse. Andrew never asked Neil if he train hopped before. Neil sighs, his nose scrunching from the sweet, candied scents in the air. "Maybe I would've loved it. Then I'd be a lunatic like Jeremy."

It's meant to be a joke, but Andrew understands. That's the strangeness of the unknown. Had things been different, had they been raised like anyone else, there's no telling what they could've been like.

But things weren't different. Andrew isn't foolish enough to reflect on the past with bitterness or entertain what he could've been like if only. The asinine exercise would do nothing for him, for his future.

The future he's coming to anticipate and accept, because Neil also refuses to look back. It's still a globby, hard to see mess right now, but the more days pass with Neil by his side, even it begins to take shape.

But he doesn't have room in his chest to say all that, so instead he tugs on Neil's headband again. Snug.

"You're already wearing the ears," he drawls. As if Neil forgot, his hands fly up to tug on one of the ears, and Andrew is helpless to save the image forever.

"I should probably take them o--"

"No."

Just...no.

It's hard to make Neil blush, but when it happens Andrew makes sure to catalogue it. He watches the color spread on the bridge of the striker's nose, and then Neil laughs, a light and fleeting sound. Andrew hears it over everything else.

Neil turns on the bench, hugging his knees to his chest, and Andrew is moving to face him without thinking about it. "I feel like...if the others were here they'd say we're wasting the opportunity," Neil muses, pursing his lips. "Like we should be going on rides and watching shows."

"That's everyone's problem then," Andrew waves the thought off, tracking Neil's lips. He's not ready for a kiss, but he's warming up to the idea.

But, Neil seldom brings up things pointlessly with him.

"It is," Neil agrees, and Andrew presses his thumb into the crease of his boyfriend's brows. Neil doesn't flinch. "But they might be right. I guess I can't expect to have the same opinions now as I did as a kid on the run. I should at least be able to say, yeah I went to Disneyland slightly more adjusted and I still don't see what the big deal is."

Ah, the point emerges. Andrew will admit...

"You don't seem anxious," Andrew observes, because he expected Neil to be very nervous.

Neil tilts his head, and Andrew has to make him stop doing that. "What?"

Andrew leans back, and Neil follows the touch instinctively before getting a hold of himself. "If you really felt you were wasting time, you'd be all fidgety and irritating."

"I didn't say I felt like I was wasting time, just that I maybe should," Neil sighs. Andrew isn't sure what he means, but he doesn't have time to think about it when Neil's impish grin comes back. "But no, any time I spend with you isn't a waste."

Andrew leans in, slow and insistent, and lets Neil tense in anticipation of a touch, a kiss. Then, Andrew pushes his face away. It's what he deserves, and Neil bites his tongue.

Huffy.

Neil slumps back, but the pouty thing he's doing dampens the scowl. He needs to not spend so much time with Katelyn.

"You've become a sap, rabbit."

And it's dangerous for both of them. Andrew doesn't mean for the words to come out so light, but what's the use in correcting himself?

"I get it from you," Neil shoots back, and oh, now he chooses to read Andrew's mind. At the twitch of Andrew's mouth, Neil smiles, the kind reserved for Andrew and Andrew alone.

Andrew's nerve endings are still a little fuzzy, but he tugs Neil's sleeve until he follows. He brings Neil close enough to feel Andrew's heat, to smell the cinnamon. This works, for now.

And Neil, despite being somewhere people dream of visiting, looks totally focused on him. When he gazes down the trolley lines again, the expression is much more promising.

"Who knows? It might be fun if we went now, with all the foxes," Neil wonders aloud. "Not sure, since I think the closest thing to a ride I've ever been on is a train, and not legally."

Well, there's the train hopping question answered.

But that's it, he supposes. He feels nothing about this place, or any amusement parks for that matter. Even in his tumultuous childhood, he experienced them, never understood the appeal.

Neil's never had the opportunity to try. He's never been able to form an opinion.

Andrew thinks that's at least one aspect of his freedom Neil should have, even if it is something so trivial.

Andrew sighs; what has he gotten himself into?

Neil Josten is a whirlwind of an individual, but he's Andrew's.

That's what Neil would say, without hesitation, every time.

'But I'm yours.'

Andrew really does need a cigarette, but that frozen lemonade will have to do. He stands up, making a show of brushing himself off. He can feel the tilts of Neil's head behind him, for fuck's sake.

"C'mon then," Andrew says, turning around to adjust how crooked Neil's headband is. Another problem he didn't need, but it's too late now. Damn merchandise. When Neil still makes no move to get up, Andrew tugs his bangs. "Let's go on a ride."

Neil's jaw opens and closes, but Andrew is already turning away from him. Neil's fast, he should be able to catch up. "W-wait, are you sure?"

Neil scrambles to his feet, and Andrew can't look directly at him. He's sure there's something bright and shiny swimming in those eyes right now, and that's far too much.

He tries to go through his mind for what he knows about Disneyland, and asks himself if he's in the mood to be up high.

No, not today. Neil has him feeling far too much already.

"I think the Matterhorn is enclosed," he says, in lieu of an explanation, and knows Neil will get the meaning.

Neil grips the straps of his backpack, reigning in the energy as best he can. Andrew wonders when he'll work up the nerve to tell Neil he doesn't have to when it's like this. Even without touch, Andrew promised to take everything Neil had to offer.

He's not sure if Neil can sense the feeling, but his face softens anyways. "Okay...yeah!"

Neil falls in step beside him, and Andrew revises his previous statement with only mild displeasure. He doubts he will ever have enough of this.

--

The Matterhorn was, what a shocker, a bad idea.

Andrew will never say he tries to make his driving a comfortable experience, but he knows his road raging still would've been a more pleasurable time than being thrown around on that poor excuse for a ride.

The bumpiness of the Matterhorn was also not helped by how tense he was; he felt like a cutting board in a blender, trying to force away the unrealistic thought of Neil flying off the edge and plummeting to his death during the whole two minute affair.

A forty-five minute wait for two minutes of back pain that'll last the rest of the day.

"Well that sucked," Neil says with a wince, stretching out his back slowly. Andrew pointedly looks elsewhere. "Why do people do this for fun? I feel like my spine got ripped out and then put back in the wrong way."

Andrew wants to tell him to stop being so dramatic, but for once Neil's words are accurate.

They tried. No one can say they didn't try.

"Nevermind you were right," Neil says as Andrew orders them a lemonade to share; Neil ignores the glare Andrew gives him for chugging the first half in one go. Neil sighs from the rush of citrus, placing the cold cup to his forehead. "Can we go home?"

"Doubtful, unless you want to walk," Andrew sighs. He retches the lemonade away from Neil, pushing away his grabby hands. An admirable tactic, but fruitless. "I knew carpooling was a stupid move."

"Hey, we take offense to that."

Neil tenses on instinct, like the hypocrite he is. He's so used to being the shadow, the nosy meddler who overhears everything. Andrew would think he's more than deserving of being on the receiving end if he wasn't so annoyed himself.

They turn to find the girls grinning ear to ear, and Andrew notes right away how there's no smiling bundle of 'I love Disney' with them.

Jean and Jeremy are nowhere to be found.

How 'bout that.

Alvarez unlinks her arm from her girlfriend's to ring out her damp shirt; Andrew notices they're soaked from head to toe, sneakers squeaking from their drenched socks. It makes Andrew grimace on the inside; it should feel atrocious, but the girls are beaming.

"So you two do act like a couple," Laila says, and Andrew's not sure he gets what she means. He does decide she's his least favorite of the two though. "I had some doubts."

Andrew couldn't care less about that, but Neil's a different story. Defiantly, Andrew silences his boyfriend before he can even go on his tirade by shoving the lemonade back into his hands.

An acceptable sacrifice; Neil's aware they don't seem like the stereotypical couple, but he hates having his feelings doubted.

He hates it even more when people doubt Andrew's, and Andrew pushes the thought of Katelyn's suspicious expression at Eden's out of his mind.

What other people assume about him is not his problem.

"Why didn't you just buy him his own lemonade?" Alvarez asks, her eyes flicking over Neil's expression. He's calming down, but the aggravation is there. Guess not all the Trojans are oblivious.

Andrew takes the bait for what it is, no energy to be contrary.

"Neil doesn't need that much energy, and he'll drink mine no matter what because he's annoying," Andrew says, and sure enough, he hears the slurp behind him, an alert that Neil basically sucked down the rest of his drink.

One down, several to go.

"It's true, I am," Neil chimes in at that, refreshed. It's then he actually seems to pay attention, scanning the girls from head to toe. "Why are you guys all wet?"

Laila claps a hand over Alvarez's wolfish grin before she can even respond to that, and Andrew is glad. He really didn't want to hear it.

At least Neil would get the joke this time.

"Splash Mountain," Laila replies hastily, like they have any clue what it is. "Horrible build-up, decent pay-off. Jean hates it though so it's the best way to make sure we don't run into them."

At her own words, she checks behind her, like Jeremy Knox can appear at the mere mention of his not-boyfriend.

They probably shouldn't stay in the same place too long.

"Outside Star Wars anyways," Alvarez adds, prying Laila's hand off her mouth for .2 seconds.

"Hush, he'll hear you!"

Then, Alvarez must lick her girlfriend's hand, because the goalie retches away with a disgusted yelp. "Hey! Gross!"

"Wow, you don't love me."

It's punctuated with giggles, and Andrew stuffs his hands in his pockets; why that word decides to plague him today, he's not sure. He wouldn't say the girls act as useless as Katelyn and Aaron do, but their dynamic is still distinct.

Affectionate.

Andrew turns his hard stare at the ground. No, no. It's still not right.

Neil, oblivious to Andrew's plight, squints at the empty space where Jean and Jeremy should be. "Wait...you guys ditched them too? Why?"

"They had the same idea as us," Andrew mutters, but Neil's lightbulb still hasn't gone off.

Laila's grin is as sardonic as it gets. "Ah, so you noticed?"

Andrew doesn't respond. He's steadily reaching his word quota.

Knowing the only chance of Andrew saying anything is by asking himself, Neil turns to him, too searching. "Noticed what?"

And oh, Andrew can't avoid talking about it after all, can he? He's not sure why he doesn't want to, there hasn't been much cause for concern with Neil lately. Not for months. Maybe not ever, but Andrew had been in denial there for a while.

Perhaps Andrew just hates being in this limbo, where he doesn't even know how he feels about a topic yet. It's happened before, but it's no less disconcerting than the other times. The jealousy, the concept of understanding, their first time...

His mind, a traitor, reminds him none of those situations ended horrifically.

"Moreau is in love with his captain," Andrew mutters, and watches the moment Neil blanches. No stopping the floodgates now. "Original."

Something in Neil's gaze twitches. Andrew's hasn't seen the look before, but it's surely not good for him or his pulse. Andrew turns his stare to the ice cream cart in the distance, but his sweet tooth is done for the day.

Another unfortunate reality.

"God, so they really are that bad," Laila groans. "For a second there, we thought it might just be us."

Alvarez scoffs, crossing her arms and putting all her weight on Laila. It must be a common occurrence; Laila huffs, but makes no move to push her away.

"We've been trying to get them together for ages," Alvarez continues, twirling her finger around like a never ending cycle. "We ditch them literally every single time in the hopes they finally have their moment."

Both their expressions fall then, truly defeated. Laila sounds at her wit's end, and Andrew feels little sympathy. "But, no such luck."

Andrew can't even begin to pick apart how uselessly optimistic that is when idiots are concerned, but Alvarez seems to be tracking his every movement for some type of reaction. He should've never said anything, but she'll learn soon enough; he's not an easy read, despite a hot-headed outlier.

Neil blinks at them, a complex math problem with cliche romantic plots instead of numbers. "They're...into each other?"

The look he gets from the girls is similar to the pitying ones he gets from Allison whenever he says something particularly misguided about fashion.

Laila puts her hand on Neil's shoulder, patting him slowly. "Oh Josten, your face right now tells me all I need to know about you."

Then, the double shot of pity is poured right down Andrew's throat.

"You got an oblivious one too huh?" Laila says wryly, and Alvarez chokes.

"Hey."

Andrew won't dignify that with a response, but he figures it's obvious anyways.

Laila snorts, tugging on Alvarez's ear lobe. "But yeah, Jean totally wants to husband Jeremy. It's so painful. Disneyland is supposed to be romantic, but--"

Alvarez finishes the thought with a fart noise. Andrew's not sure why he speaks up, the conversation is so beneath him, and he blames Bee. He never used to talk so much before he realized that it actually helped his mind move down the endless river.

"Movie moments like that will never happen," Andrew says, nothing condescending or dismissive about it. It's the truth; he learned long ago that the grand gestures people expected seldom come to fruition. They could sit Jean and Jeremy at the table for two with violins playing around them and it most likely wouldn't do any good.

People won't do anything until they're ready to acknowledge how they feel, and even then they might not. Andrew never thought that was such a bad thing; shutting down a feeling, weighing the pros and cons of a decision until ultimately trying to be rid of it.

It was better that way.

He knows though, had he never let that go, he wouldn't have Neil next to him.

He also knows Bee would call that a good thing, the release of a way of thinking that he's yet to acknowledge as completely outdated.

None of that realization shows on his face.

"You sure sound fun," Alvarez mutters, but she's smiling in a way Andrew hates.

"Andrew's the funnest person I know," Neil adds, unhelpfully adding to the upbeat of Andrew's heart. If Neil could stop ruining the English language on purpose that would be great.

The girls wait for Neil to reveal it as a joke, but seconds of Neil's blank stare kill any chance of laughter.

No, Neil is completely serious. And maybe he's right, after all the good Trojan captain himself did call Andrew a riot.

Laila purses her lips after a moment. "Right..."

"Anyways, you better get a move on if you don't want to continue enjoying your date," Alvarez says, glancing behind her suspiciously while checking her watch. Laila's hand entangles in her girlfriend's, and Andrew notices the charm bracelet there. He wonders if it's a gift from Alvarez.

He's seen a similar, custom one on Katelyn's wrist for the longest time. He's about to ask himself why people are so obsessed with buying jewelry, before realizing he's in the same boat.

When did he come to permit this?

Ugh. He's not running around that particular race track again. "It's not--"

"We're going to go get drinks in the Star Wars cantina," Alvarez interrupts, hastily beginning to tug her girlfriend in that direction. Guess it's later than she thought. "Jeremy will come this way soon. He has a very specific itinerary."

Of course he does.

"Any...slow ride suggestions?" Neil asks before they go, and Alvarez squeaks when she runs right into Laila's strong back. Neil steadfastly ignores the glare Andrew sends him, though if they do have to go on more rides, Andrew would prefer something smooth.

The Matterhorn can burn.

"There's the storybook ride?" Laila says, pointing behind them down the path. "Or It's a Small World?"

Alvarez huffs. "There's a joke there somewhere..."

Andrew doesn't mean for it to happen, but his memory is a steel trap, with a layer of unpredictability wrapped around it. He can't stop it, can't turn it off. For the briefest of moments it brings him the image of a homely kitchen in California, his fingers tracing the carvings in the table while he watches Cass cook dinner. It smells good; he remembers. Of course he remembers, the dish, the ingredients, down to the stains on the tile and which cabinets were open.

The song Cass hummed from between her lips.

He'd never heard the real song, never cared to look it up online or search up the ride itself. But he knows the name, knows the tune.

"What's that?" Neil asks, and whether he means to or not, his voice pulls Andrew out of it. Not even just that...Neil has a way of firmly planting Andrew in this new reality he's forged and tailored.

For the better, Bee's voice reminds him.

Laila smiles, no doubt connecting the ride to memories of her own. Happier, softer memories. Andrew could have those too, if he wanted. It would just take some revision, overwriting. "It's just a boat ride, and it kills time for sure."

Just a boat ride. That's all.

Neil nods, turning to Andrew while the girls walk away. It's getting later; Andrew can tell by how blue Neil's eyes get, highlighted by the darkness. They're haunting in a way, like the unexplored bottom of the ocean. Horrific things lurk in the depths, but there's something pleasant about them too, calming in their mystery. Maybe because to Andrew, and only Andrew, it's familiar territory. Andrew has never felt that level of ease from something, but Neil's stupid expression is too soft when he speaks. "How about it?"

How about it? Hm.

Andrew looks off into the direction Laila pointed in, debating on if he should put himself through that. Is he ready to put himself through that?

He could take this step, he reasons. He could try to overpower the terrible memory with one of Neil, with the feeling of his weight beside him. Is it worth it? Will it work?

No, he can't think of it like that.

It won't erase anything; Andrew's not so naive to think he will ever be rid of the image in his head, the sound of Cass's voice. But...maybe he could make the crystal clear image blurrier, faded around the edges until his mind wavers, until he can no longer make out the scenes as well as before. Instead, his brain will default to Neil in the future. Whenever he hears the cheery tune, Andrew will think of his stupid headband and sugar-kissed lips.

Stronger, sturdier memories.

He's allowed Neil to implant them before, and it hasn't backfired. The process is not always easy, or without pain, but it's been worth it every time. Andrew sees no reason to mess with a working strategy.

Andrew grabs Neil's wrist, the firmest contact they've had all day, and something in him sighs at the same time Neil does.

He leads the way.

--

As soon as Andrew hears the tune as they enter the tunnel, he wonders if he made a mistake. Not because of the memory, though that's definitely there. No, it's the tune itself.

The music is loud, repetitive, with no lull. He's not sure how someone can work on this ride and not quit immediately. He should've expected it though, so the blame is on himself. It won't be over anytime soon either. The boat they're in is moving at an agonizing speed, but it's a relief for his back. The slow glide makes him painfully aware of the soreness in his legs, the heaviness of his eyelids.

The spotlights are pointing at the monuments and walls, leaving the riders in the shadows. If Andrew squints, the people in the boats ahead of him look like nothing more than silhouettes for the briefest of moments. Unreal, specters.

The song continues, and Andrew reevaluates. It's too late to get off the ride, and the song might be called fitting; there's a weird eeriness to it, along with the surreal feeling of the park noises being completely blocked out. It's silent, for being so loud, so irritating. But after a while he's sure he'd become numb to it, and then what would be left?

All he can hear other than the singing is the gentle slosh of the water and the occasional hushed voices of the people in front of them. Like the wind. He feels like a ghost on the ride, wispy and drifting in and out of centuries. The tune is ageless, has probably been around for decades, long before Cass started to hum it.

Somehow, it's a comfort. Cass had been insignificant, another way to separate her memory from the ride itself.

Some of the tension leaks out of his shoulders, and having Neil beside him lessens it further. There are two free seat rows in front of them; the line hadn't been too long at this time of day, and Andrew feels an inkling of gratefulness.

It's the closest thing to privacy they've had all day, he realizes, and some of the fuzziness from earlier dissipates. The static in his brain has had time to even and sizzle out; it's taken hours for him to get to this point, but when Neil lets a quiet 'yes or no' pass between them, the answer is easy. Certain.

Andrew pulls Neil against him, and Neil follows it up by entangling their fingers together. He hardly hesitates anymore, doesn't treat the gesture like something with an expiration date. Andrew privately thought it would be the case, but...he's yet to be tired of it.

It's not so rare anymore, holding Neil's hand.

They pass the first display of dancing puppets, just as the song repeats 'it's a small world after all' through the speakers. Andrew can feel Neil's wry smile before he sees it. "It really is a--"

"Finish that joke I'll kill you."

Neil throws his head back in the first sign of genuine joy from a ride, and Andrew thinks this is already better than anything else they'd previously done. It's less intensive, with just enough chaotic energy to appeal to Neil's sense of humor.

They're not the type of people usually caught dead on these kinds of rides, but the creepiness feels warmer than any of the other joyful displays Disneyland had to offer. Neil's laugh echoes off the high ceilings, and he smothers it quickly.

But Andrew's mind remembers, and he plays the cut off sound on a loop far more intense than the tune of the ride itself. He mixes them together, until they can't be pried apart.

When they pass the German section of the song, Neil looks at him expectantly, and the look Andrew gives him is unimpressed. Mischief dances in his boyfriend's eyes anyways, and again, it's not cute. It's not like Andrew is going to suddenly start singing along just because it's in German. Though, Neil's reaction might be worth it.

Neil critiques the lyric translation anyways, like it's not the simplest song to mass produce.

"This isn't so bad," Neil sighs as they pass under another archway to a different section of the very small world. His finger is starting to tap along on the back of Andrew's hand, and he's not sure if he should put an end to it before it gets stuck in Neil's head. Then he'd have to hear Neil humming it over and over, and while not as traumatic, there's only so much Andrew can take.

"Other people would probably call it torture," Andrew says, gesturing to the lifeless faces of the puppets. He wonders if there's any conspiracies about this ride online, he's sure Neil would get some morbid kick out of them.

"Wimps," Neil replies haughtily, and no, Andrew's pulse does not jump. “I’m a torture connoisseur.”

He bastardizes the word so bad Andrew almost feels bad for France. Almost. When did Neil start thinking he was funny?

"That's not even remotely how you say it." Andrew untangles their hands purely for the purpose of flicking Neil's earlobe. Neil grabs for it again as soon as the punishment is doled out.

Junkie. "You speak that language..."

But Andrew's accusations mean nothing to Neil, per usual.

"I'm dumb remember?" Neil reminds with a shrug, and Andrew grits his teeth. He's still unsure how he feels about this; Neil's mind is vast when it comes to a lot of things. Languages, math, world knowledge, how to kill a man, basic things.

But otherwise...the ignorance can be...

Attractive.

Andrew almost gets off the boat from admitting it to himself. Dumb jocks with runner's hearts is a type he guesses, and it happens to be his.

Or, scratch that. Neil can't possibly fall into a group. Had more than one Neil existed, the mafia would've surely met their demise as a whole through a combination of violence and general dumbassery.

"You milk it on purpose," Andrew decides to say, because Neil does. Because no, Neil's far from dumb, he just knows what gets under Andrew's skin.

Neil chooses not to respond to that, predictably.

"It's just not as bad as I expected," Neil continues, leaning his head against Andrew's shoulder. He gives a long sigh, and Andrew's sure it can't be comfortable. As at ease as he is in Neil's presence, there's always a hardness there, a tension coiled in his body. Yet, Neil leans into him like a pillow and seems to cherish the steadiness.

For a while, they just listen to the song.

Andrew's not quite sure if he agrees with the message, but he doesn't care in the moment. He's come to acknowledge lately that he shares quite a bit with other people, much to his chagrin. Though in the grand scheme of things, he's eons away from them all.

Primarily, he doesn't like to think he could replicate this...feeling, whatever it is.

Certainly not enough to assign an overused word to, one stamped onto every relationship like a barcode. 'I love you.'

He's never admired the words when other people used them. Is that fair, he wonders. Does it matter? He's stuck between a rock and a hard place; the need to be contrary itches at him. He shouldn't want to feel that way, shouldn't have to label this feeling as love...

And it doesn't feel right anyways.

He does not want to fit an insincere mold, but he doubts he and Neil ever could. They never have. This would not be so easily destroyed, toppled.

They simply share too much, and Andrew thinks back to his goal of replacing every bad memory with Neil. That's not an accident, or a desperate quick fix. That instinct is there for a reason...

Cass. Funny how his two separate problems seem to come together. Cass is an appropriate example. Andrew knows, better than anyone, that she hadn't loved him in Katelyn's definition, if that's what love even is. If love can be broken down like that, if it's real. Devotion, consideration, loyalty.

Andrew sighs; he can't go that deep into it. It's too much, bogged down by layers and layers of terrible experiences that have only just begun to be pushed aside like weeds. Never ripped out. The roots have taken hold, but they're withering.

Maybe it's because he's so tired of thinking about it that the words come out. He peers down at Neil against him, at the top of his head where the auburn curls are so within reach, and confesses to Neil's crown. He doesn't blame the need to admit things to Neil as influenced by love, it can't possibly be so contained. He just...something pushes him to work this out. "Cass would hum this, every now and again."

Andrew's not sure what he wants the reaction to be, but when Neil responds, Andrew's soul relaxes, so it must be what he needed. Neil goes rigid within an instant, robbed of the peace afforded them. Andrew didn't mean to throw it into their quiet bubble, but he doesn't regret it. These things aren't inconvenient. Andrew gives these pieces of information to Neil now, like he always has. Willingly, and they're received in kind.

Neil shoots up, eyes frantic when they meet Andrew's. He sees so many things in those blue eyes: rage at Cass, concern for Andrew, and things Andrew didn't ask for but will receive for as long as Neil is here. Neil looks frantic, and two seconds away from dragging them as far away from this place as possible.

Neil's voice is a whisper, sharp and desperate. "Why did you--"

Why indeed? Why come on this ride?

Andrew's puts all his boyfriend's worry and guilt into an early grave.

"I hate having her in my brain," he answers, and knows it's not an excuse. Being on this ride is far from traumatic, more therapeutic than anything, but he almost recoils. He's only ever admitted those things aloud, the pent up resentment and anger, in the privacy of Bee's office. Even then, it's pulling teeth. For so long he framed his time with Cass as the only blip of light in his life. But it had come with a price, and Andrew knows now it hadn't been remotely worth it. For so long he tried to protect that outlook, but now he wants it stained, blacked out. He just never knew it would be so hard to blot it out with his own hand.

And if that was not love...

Neil flinches, but Andrew keeps going, daring him to say something. He needs Neil to know he's serious, so he makes it personal, shared. "You're the obnoxious one, telling me to overwrite things all the time. That's what this is."

That's why I'm okay with this. It's you.

Andrew can see the moment Neil remembers; they'd been sitting on the roof, and Neil had asked him to only remember the good things, even if for just a moment. Andrew's not the best at employing this, and sometimes he vehemently denies the ability to do so, but not with this. Not today.

That feeling cannot be replicated; Andrew turns the idea in his head again and again, never getting closer.

But one thing is certain...

Neil's expression softens, and Andrew squeezes his hand before he flicks a look up at the bright orange monstrosity on Neil's head. "Now, this ride will just remind me of how terrible that headband is," he says, and Neil should at least be able to read between those lines. "Nothing else will come first."

I will latch onto you instead. Andrew never wanted that before, to cling to some idealized outlook again. But Neil is not that; Neil is painfully real. Sometimes he misinterprets, other times he keeps too much to himself. But at the end of the day, Andrew trusts him to do whatever it takes to remain by his side for as long as he chooses to be there.

Andrew is the same way; he can't go back to how it was before.

Andrew's not paying attention to the displays around them anymore, but he can feel his mind melding the images and the tune together with Neil's expression. Open, vulnerable, welcome.

Neil sighs a moment later, muscles relaxing. Not once does his hold on Andrew loosen, but he knows better than to pry about Andrew's past. Andrew has made it clear; this moment is not about an old memory.

Neil leans back, moving further into Andrew's space. "Mm, should I say something else annoying, make the moment stronger?"

And ah, back to normal already are we?

Andrew flicks the back of Neil's hand. "You just did."

He'll log that away too, as aggravating as it is.

"Yeah..." Neil breathes out with a laugh, his thumb rubbing small circles into Andrew's skin. Physical touch, muscle memory...Andrew needs all of it for this to work. He gladly focuses on that while Neil thinks; Andrew can tell solely from the crease in his brow the striker has more on his mind.

Neil's not necessarily like Andrew, he won't keep these things to himself for prideful reasons. He needs to let them out, or they will eat him up.

He's bad at hiding it too.

"Hey Andrew," Neil says eventually, and Andrew's ready for the words before they're even in the air between them. He'd been expecting this, dreading it, but not okay with putting it off any longer. He needs Neil's help, unfortunately, to piece it all together. "You said Jean was in love with Jeremy."

One day if life is especially cruel, and Andrew outlives Neil, he will make it his mission to pick the man's brain. Something in that stubborn subconscious always seems to anticipate the winding roads Andrew is currently stuck on, even when Neil actually has zero clue.

He's not so upset by this anymore.

Carefully, Andrew turns Neil's palm over to trace the heart lines. If he put them on a map, would they cross through all the places Neil's been? "I did say that."

And he's been re-thinking about if it's true. Who knows if Jean and Jeremy are actually in love. As much as he likes to compare them to his brother's and Katelyn's nauseating displays, affectionate looks and blushing cheeks can't be all there is to it.

Andrew had been stupid to chalk it up to just that. Not even Katelyn would've. And if that's the case, Andrew might never be convinced of Jeremy and Jean's feelings. Attraction sure, but he doesn't care enough to dig deeper.

There's not an equation to test levels of protectiveness, or comfort, in order to determine an abstract and troublesome thing like love. And why would he need to test his own feelings against such a thing anyways? He knows...he knows this is something he will keep for as long as he can.

"I thought you didn't use that word," Neil offers when Andrew is quiet for too long, debating on the best angle to attack this from. Neil tends to do that, when Andrew himself hasn't figured things out yet. If he poses questions that open up other doors, it clears the mess away. He notes how Neil says 'doesn't use' instead of 'doesn't like' or 'hates,' because it's true. Andrew isn't repulsed by the word, just annoyed with it and all its aspects. He does not get it.

It's like he told Katelyn...

"I don't, but only because it's untrustworthy," Andrew replies, rubbing the back of his neck. He's not making sense, not even to himself. He's simply trying to see if he's open to the idea of throwing out his old opinion, the one where the concept of love is something twisted beyond recognition. Fake. Overly reproduced.

It's far more difficult a feat than simply overwriting a bad memory. This feels more invasive, but Andrew knows he wouldn't be thinking about it if there wasn't something important lodged beneath.

Neil squints, unaware of Andrew's turmoil. "So you were insulting them?"

The game show buzzer in Andrew's head rings; nope, that's not it.

"I was applying Mrs. Minyard's definition..." Andrew tries not to sound too bitter. The whole reason he even let this issue cling to him is because of Katelyn. She's the worst.

"Katelyn?" Neil asks, but doesn't question further after Andrew nods. Andrew assumes he's used to this, and it's entirely likely he's had a similar conversation with Katelyn. Andrew won't think about that either.

Neil nods. "Okay well, do you care if they figure it out?"

Again, Neil strikes out, but it helps Andrew to eliminate the background noise in his head.

"No, it makes no difference to me," he says. He couldn't care less what becomes of Moreau's romantic life. "Though it would be annoying if we have to do this again."

Another forced outing surrounded by dense morons...

Andrew's had to deal with enough obliviousness.

Neil smirks. "You know, Kevin might flip out if they get together."

Ah, another rare pro...

Neil leans away, regarding Andrew like he's taken on a new sleuth role. He rubs his chin too, to add to the drama of it. Maybe Andrew should get him a monocle, if he's going to be this much of a fuck. "So...if you don't care if they realize it, why think about it at all? I'll be honest, I didn't think you'd care about something like this."

Andrew's not quite sure why or if he does either. It doesn't have to be a thing that applies to them, if he doesn't want it to be.

Their this is unique. Andrew had been so resistant to using the word 'love' because it had been spit on and turned to bile, misused by people throughout his life. But in doing so, he ignored the times people used it genuinely. In the past, he would've contested that. He would've said it was never genuine, never earned. The commercialized concept wasn't something he'd let himself have in common with others.

But lately, Andrew finds that having some things in common with certain people isn't reprehensible. And in this case...

Aaron's voice comes barreling through his head, steering Andrew to destinations he couldn't find before. And well, now he knows why his brain can't let go of Aaron and Katelyn as his go to example.

"Our feelings for them are the same."

Yes. Andrew had slowly begun to accept that. Maybe that's why his brain wouldn't write off Katelyn's words so easily.

Begrudgingly, Andrew admits there's a lot more to his brother's relationship than pure affection, even when most of it is behind closed doors. Katelyn had been there through the worst parts of Aaron's college life, and she'd never once judged him or ignored the ugliest bits. Not even when he hated her, could Andrew look past those things. They meet her own definition, and Andrew's simply choosing to extend some trust to his brother. Aaron says he's in love, so Andrew believes him even when he doesn't believe in the feeling's history, in the way it's manipulated.

And well, if his feelings are the same...

Well, he guesses he can try to accept that too.

"I was testing it," Andrew answers, without much struggle. Katelyn's definition, any definition. Andrew looks at Neil straight on then, and the striker's grin fades. Something crosses over those eyes, like for once Andrew is ahead of him. "Love. I think I'm trying to decide if I...want to say it."

If I want to say 'I love you.' If it applies at all.

Not need, but want.

Is it something heavy, or is it something inconsequential?

It feels wrong, but Andrew knows he's reached the crux of his problem. This is where all his restlessness stemmed from, his observations about Jean and Jeremy, about the girls...

It had nothing to do with them, but everything to do with whether or not he'd ever want to have that in common with them.

He'd ignored the fact he most likely already does.

But the words...he never would've bothered before. They don't mean much, other than the weight society has put on them, and Andrew's never cared about that. He doesn't need them to know this is something sturdy in his life, and he doubts Neil needs them either.

It's more...this is another thing life took from them, took from Neil. They've never expected to regain everything; they never feel like life owes them.

It has nothing to do with that. It's just the same as with a lot of other instances; Andrew wants to give these things to Neil, because Neil is his.

Does there have to be some deeper explanation or justification for it? Even if there is, Andrew stops looking for it.

He waves off Neil's shocked expression, and doesn't ponder why it's there in the first place. He's been in the wrong before, assuming he's the only one who thinks about stuff like this. It's possible this has been on Neil's mind too, but that's not the point.

"I don't mean now, or anytime soon," Andrew corrects. No, no. He's not there yet, and it's not like it's some milestone they have to reach. Andrew doesn't like to think it could encompass how he feels, but maybe his biggest issue with this is that...he's not sure he hates the idea of it anymore. The word. One day, he might be able to say it and know it means a lot more than what other people think about it. And that would be enough. "But one day."

The shadows of the displays wash over Neil's expression, and Andrew can't pull anything out of it. Neil stares, hand still curled impossibly tight in Andrew's.

Andrew won't take back anything he said, but Neil's silence is beginning to unnerve him. He could have overstepped he realized, he should've asked for Neil's opinion at some point, weighed it against--

"You know, Aaron talked to me about this once," Neil offers finally. It's not what Andrew's expecting him to say. Then, Neil's face twitches, and Andrew can tell he's...holding back a smile. "That night you picked Katelyn up, we talked about...yeah."

Yeah.

Andrew knows the gist of what happened, Neil filled him in. Guess he didn't reveal all the details though.

Neil's laugh is a breathy, comforting thing this time. "He made me think about it. He asked if I loved you."

Neil smiles wryly, an expression he's begun to pair with Aaron lately. It's not a glare or scowl nearly as much anymore.

Andrew stills, but relaxes in the next second. They'd both been subject to the same thoughts after all, Andrew just didn't realize how similar the sources were. Aaron and Katelyn are menaces, and they don't even realize it.

Andrew doesn't feel nervous, or anxious. The way Neil feels about him is obnoxiously stone-like and unmovable at this point, as much as Andrew still sometimes tries to act like it's not. Neil won't say anything to make him doubt that.

"I said I did," Neil continues, like it's obvious. Andrew's pulse hiccups a little anyways. Stupid. "But I didn't know if I ever wanted to say it to you. It's more like...well obviously I do feel that way right? In the whatever—traditional sense."

Traditional. Ha.

He's not sure even Katelyn's definition is truly traditional in its selflessness.

Neil clears his throat, palm clammy in Andrew's own. Second by second, Andrew feels lighter. Neil's rambling is a strange salve, one more thing they have in common. Too much thinking, when the answer doesn't have to be so complex. Neil tries to glance away, but Andrew grabs his chin, keeping them face to face. He wants to have all this forever, every expression, every blink.

Neil swallows, but his smile stays, making a liar out of him before the words even leave his mouth. "But one word doesn't seem like enough, and if we did say it wouldn't it just be for other people's satisfaction? I don't need it to know you feel the same way..."

Andrew shakes his head in disbelief. Neil. Only Neil would expect that from Andrew. Andrew's mind exhales.

The convoluted mess of words echoes Andrew's own thoughts throughout the day, but it's never sounded clearer. No, it's true, one word will never be enough, but Andrew thinks if he could come to associate the word, the phrase, with this feeling, unique to them...

It wouldn't be so damaged anymore.

It would still be theirs, and no one else's. He'd have his own definition, to overwrite the rest.

"But even then..." Neil adds, quietly, his voice dancing with the song still playing around them. The lyrics are in English again, and Andrew knows the ride will end soon. Cass is barely a blip in his mind now, compared to Neil's words, the ones which mirror Andrew's. "I still thought it might be nice, one day, to say it. That doesn't make sense, does it?"

Logically no. All the contradictions, the back and forth...feelings are a strange thing and that's one reason Andrew's always hated them. There's no rhyme or reason, and there's two sides to each one. All justification is ruled out by one thing and one thing alone: 'I still want to.'

And in that sense, Neil's words make perfect sense.

But he can't confess all that; instead he cups Neil's face in his hands, smoothing over the scars like he always does. The roughness is a constant, familiar. "I hate you," he says, with no heat. It makes both of them blink, and Andrew realizes it's been a while since he said it. That too, has changed. But in this case, he thinks it's more than fair. He's feeling more than he possibly knows what to do with. "Yes or no?"

The fact he asks makes Neil snort; it's nostalgic, because...they don't ask as much these days. But Neil's 'yes' echoes loud and clear as they pass under the final archway, and for the first time all day, their lips meet. Neil sighs into him, his hands coming up to rest over Andrew's, breathing in the unspoken promise.

Nothing was decided, nothing fleshed out. But it didn't have to be.

One day, maybe.

They're both more than okay with that. Besides, Andrew did always say proof meant more than words.

And he has mountains of it to last in the meantime.

With only a little annoyance, Andrew admits he fell into the trap without meaning to; they shared a kiss at Disneyland.

Andrew pulls away as the sunlight begins to pour over them, and he squints, already missing the ride. Quiet it was not, but not as bad as the sounds and size of the crowd. If he ever does have to come back, he knows it will be a place to stop.

It makes him think of Neil, first and foremost, and he's long since stopped denying himself that.

Neil tries to help Andrew out of the boat, but Andrew swats him away for being a shit. He doesn't need help. As revenge, Neil smirks at him once they're walking down the exit path, adjusting his ears just to be even more irritating. Not cute. "Wait, so this means you admit Katelyn and Aaron are in love. Can I tell them?"

Andrew rolls his eyes, and Neil laughs. He'll never live that one down, and if Neil wants to survive he'll keep it to himself.

Mockery aside, Neil links their hands together, and Andrew pushes his face away before accepting the touch. Neil hasn't stopped smiling.

"Something to say Neil?" He says with a glare, and though he knows it's a joke at best, it makes that obnoxious warmth in him surge.

Neil smiles wider, dragging Andrew down the path with no idea where he's going. Andrew lets him.

"No," Neil throws behind him, humor lacing his tone. Gradually, the corner of Andrew's mouth twitches. "Not at all."

--

"Andrew! Neil!" Jeremy's voice booms from across the pavilion, and they both freeze in their analysis of where the best hiding spot would be in the entire park (Andrew is making a case for Toontown, but puts a pin in it).

Their time alone is officially over.

"Shit," Neil mutters, hand still linked in Andrew's. Normally at the sight of people they know, he'd pull away for Andrew's comfort, but Andrew keeps his grip firm.

He wants this today. Neil beams, sighing at the rest of the group's advance. It must be twice as sad now, since Neil knows.

Jeremy and Jean follow with the girls in tow, and as they get closer Andrew can see Laila's resigned smile. She and Alvarez have been caught too, despite their best efforts, and Andrew can tell nothing has changed.

The 'magical moment' they'd tried to pull out of Jean and Jeremy didn't happen, just like Andrew knew it wouldn't. Regardless, they're as hopeless as ever.

Jean trails close after Jeremy, eyes scanning his strong back while Jeremy keeps looking to make sure he's following. They're still dancing around one another, oblivious, but that's their own problem to sort out.

Still...there's a shift in Jean's features that wasn't there before, and Andrew is all too happy to wither it away with a glare.

He's accepting, not forgiving.

Whatever realizations Jean came to today have no other impact on Andrew other than an urge to get as far away as possible from it.

But there's hours to go.

Hours more to go, with Neil's hand in his. The striker throws a knowing grin back at him before pulling him forward, probably dead set on meddling as much as possible.

With the promise of 'one day' still fizzing strong in his chest, Andrew follows.

There's no more memories of this place to overwrite, so he has no choice but to crack open the door a little for some new ones.

That, at least, he can handle.

[pjstafford]

To Rock My Soul

This blog is dedicated especially to those with whom I attended concerts in my life.

It is November 1, 2020. Need I say more? If you are living this moment, you are living it. If you are reading this in the far distant future of say November 5, 2020 or later, than google 2020. You will know all you need to know. I am on my second glass of wine and attempting to make sense of here and now. Finding that impossible, I seek to find some indulgence in the things that have brought me joy.

I envy those of you who have spent the last few months with those you love. I have spent it alone. I have no children. I have failed at romance by loving and trusting unworthy men. My immediate family dynamics have been complicated since before I was born. My happiest times have been writing; although even in this passion I have been unsuccessful. Still, notice, I turn to the written word now to seek solace from the isolation of 2020 and the anxiety of the upcoming election. Seeking inward within my self, my truth has not changed in close to sixty years of life. I yearn, as always, to “dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free”. For those who don’t know, that’s a Bob Dylan quote. The title of this blog is a Grateful Dead song. If I could be one place tonight, I would be dancing to some great live music.

I can’t rank the best concerts I’ve been to right now. No energy, really for contests. I can tell you about the six musicians/bands I have most loved hearing in some kind of order.

1. My father

My father was a semi-professional country musician who made extra money on the weekends in the local bars. I remember Sunday jam sessions when I was very young. I remember looking for a spot behind a speaker because if my parents didn’t see me they couldn’t send me to bed. Later, when I was in high school, I was allowed to see him play at the VFW lodge. Still, my favorite memory is him pickin’ a guitar on the living room couch. Third grade I came home and proudly sang the song I learned in school “This land is your land” . My dad, whose family had fled Oklahoma in the dust bowl, said “that’s Woody. Where did you hear him?” I told him in school. “No, he’s blacklisted. Ma, Ma” he said calling to my mother in the kitchen “they are teaching Woody in school.” It dawns on me now this must have been a moment of vindication for him. “Do you want to hear more?” he asks and I sat at the end of the couch while he gladly sang “ Oklahoma Hills where I was born” for his audience of one. Oh, don’t ask me why the word socialist doesn’t scare me or why I have wanted to hear live music my whole life. The dust bowl, Woody, the McCartney era and my labor union father, with no high school diploma, who picked a mean guitar are my heritage. This tells you who I am.

2. David Duchovny ( that X-Files guy)- I have spent a lifetime trying to obtain a type of zen now where time stands still for me except for the now. I achieved it in Seattle in 2017 during one of the most stressful and difficult time in my life when, for one moment, David Duchovny bent down in my face and screamed “I said I’m done.” There has never been a performer as dedicated to connecting with his audience. I was in the front. I watched the sweat dropped off his forehead. It was a night wild and extreme and perfect in every way. I’ve seen him twice since. Each time being filmed.I will love this man every time I see him, but, I want a packed in crowd, me in the front and him bending down again.

3. Bob Dylan. It’s hard to decide the best. I might say Tingley coliseum when Merle Haggard opened because it was the best out of the multiple times I’ve seen the Hag and, also, there is a Cold Iron Bounds which haunts me. However how can I not say the first night of old Coachella when in subsequent nights I added Paul McCartney and Waters and Neil Young and The Who. Or since I’m not going to talk about the times I’ve seen Willie without Bob and I’ve seen Willie more than anyone else, than Dylan, Willie and Mellancamp. Or the time in Albuquerque after Dylan won the Nobel Prize or the last time when he was as good as I’ve ever seen him or in Montana when I crowd dive during a moment when the security was heavily sending folks back and a stranger said “ there you are” and wrapped his arms around me and we danced together. Or the time I saw him in New Orleans. Every time, I have ever seen Dylan! I was going to see him in June 2020. I so hope I get to again.

4. Grateful Dead et al. I only saw Jerry once. I’m going to say there was something special about The Dark Star Orchestra in Alb Stella Blues several nights in a row. Then there was something special about Further at Red Rocks with Kadlicek jumping up and down. And Further at the Pepsi Center and Dead and Company at Isleta. Bob Weir solo in Santa Fe or Mickey Hart at the Sunshine. Oh, my God, and I can loop it around to the first time I saw Bob Dylan was with Phil Lesh. If only I had grandchildren, so I could think about them dancing fifty years hence to a Dead type band. These are the songs that Rock my Soul.

5. The Moody Blues. The first time I saw the Moody Blues was at the Pacific Amphiteater in the 80s, then the Paolo Solari which was intimate and serene, but it was at the Route 66 casino a few days after my sister died that I remember the most. I freely let the tears flow during Question. The band with the words most romantic lyrics.

6. The Who. There are six because I couldn’t leave out The Who...from their first farewell tour...where, truthfully I went up and asked a guard if we would be ticketed for smoking pot ( no, but don’t use cocaine) to the multitude of times I’ve seen them since. They were the first band I saw alone after thinking, oh they weren’t that good the last time, but not being able to tolerate they were playing in my home town and I wasn’t seeing them I bought a ticket the night of and attended my first concert alone. Last time I saw them was old Coachella.

I’m leaving out, among others, Neil Young, the Eagles and Don Henley solo, Prince, and George Clinton.

I’m just missing live music tonight. Yes, Dylan first original music in eight years came this summer, Duchovny dropped a political single, Springsteen has a new album and there is more streaming music than I know what to do with. 2020 -we head into the winter- no dancing in an open sky to live music for me. If it’s not your thing, you think I’m weird. You are missing other things. It is my thing. It is the thing that lifts me out of body, sets me down and says “just be here for now.” It is timeless. It is Woody and my dad and the children of the future and now and you and a performer and we are going to have a moment. It is transcendent, sometimes, and I wish I could transcend a little right now. I am getting old, now, but believe there might still be a dance within me.

But if Rona takes me, in the times ahead, know I will be there still, when the time is right, when the music rocks my soul. I will be the barely visible you think you see out of the corner of your eye....dancing beneath the diamond sky with one hand floating free. Let there be songs to fill the air.

[danahmbisyosangdoktora]

Di ko alam? Di pa ata enough na nag-vent na ako sa closest friends ko as well as my relatives. I needed to let all the feels out and I needed more catharsis. I thought baka sawa na sila that's why I'm here... writing. Idk what for. Maybe to document my side and to remind myself, it wasn't you.

I knew the moment I signed the deed of sale, my life on the road will always be on the line. 'Di ko lang inexpect na mararanasan ko talaga siya especially I am very mabagal and follows traffic rules diligently sa takot na maaksidente.

Only went out to go to the grocery, ayun nalipasan pa tuloy ako ng gutom cHAROT ¼

Until now, nanginginig pa rin kamay ko? Grabe.

Story time

Bago pa ako makarating sa centro, may jeep na akong nakasalubong na nag-oovertake at inaagaw na lane ko. Sabi ko sa sarili ko, "wow ako pa mag-aadjust" kasi ako na gumilid sa lane ko hahahahaha joked to one of my friends na intro lang pala yung jeep, maaaksidente pala talaga ako today. 😅

Ang bilis ng pangyayari. Alam ko lang I was decelerating kasi 3 nalang until the green light turns to yellow then red when I was approaching the area. It's my rule to stop as early as 5 sa countdown (wow) to avoid nga unexpected... stuff. It just so happened na nagkaabot kami coz he did an illegal U-turn.

I didn't know what to do. I was internally panicking! Gladly, three tricycles away from me andoon yung uncle ko na tricycle driver. If not, I wouldn't know what to do. Baka inako ko din yung accident? Also thankful for the bystanders who kept on telling me na it's not my fault and taught me what to do like taking pictures of the scene in all angles possible. Also to those who defended us sa righteous vehicle owners who keep on asking na alisin na daw coz nakaharang sa daan and said it needs to be documented by the police as it is.

The HPG came and brought us sa station. Shet, my first time. They asked for our licenses as well as the OR/CR. We went to the hospital (I work at yikes) for the medical. I was lowkey embarassed coz I felt like I did something wrong coz I was riding the mobile 😅. Everyone I know who saw me kept on asking what happened and kung may duty daw ba ako. This happened around 11am and I was supposedly on duty by 3pm but I told my boss I couldn't make it kasi di ko alam kung gaano katagal ang process. Thanks to my fats who served as cushion, I didn't get grave injuries. I only??? hurt my left leg na siyang tumama sa side car ng tricycle which is also why I can't go to work coz the doctor told me I shouldn't walk my foot much which is not possible kasi as a medtech, I do wardings so I can't NOT move my feet. Anyways, we went back to the station and proceeded with the blotter.

We agreed na he's only gonna pay for the damages. I waived the medical part coz para sakin, yun nalang tulong ko and I can just have it shouldered either by my employer or myself. Nobody wanted this to happen naman so ayon. I also thought baka I was at fault din kasi di ko siya nakita. Tsaka it's only recently when tricycles started operating so I tried to consider as I really didn't want to burden him more during these trying times. But when we went out of the station, he was talking with someone sa phone and I overheard him saying ako daw nakabangga sakanya which is totally the opposite!!! I was mad! I went easy to him only to be painted as the offender? I was close to letting him go kasi my motorcycle has insurance naman and ayoko na makadagdag pero I got annoyed when I heard it. His tone was very condescending like pinapamukha pa nya sa kausap nya na siya dehado?! He was unapologetic at all! He was "okay po" when we were in the station but when we went out, he kept on insisting I was the wrong one! That's why I went through with what the police and my relatives insist na he pay right there and then.

Di ko lang matanggap his defense na I was speeding. I got (lowkey) insulted just recently when my highschool friend told me ang bagal ko daw magpatakbo because 40 lang... I only drive ng 30 especially in key roads kaya ano pinagsasabi niya. Also I don't beat the red light. 🥴

He also said he didn't know you should U-turn few more meters away from the No U-turn sign. He said doon daw talaga ang U-turn right after a No U-turn sign... I asked him if he knew how to read the lines sa road and he doesn't know. The heck? To think he's a Professional Driver license holder and I'm just... Non-Pro??? Scary.

I felt lowkey bad coz I have two cops na relative who assisted me. Baka he felt like I have the "upperhand". Baka isa pa yun sa rason niya when he cover himself up if magkwento siya sa iba. Pero I'm thankful because I really didn't know what to do. Everyone who can go literally went to assist me. 👉👈 You'll never read this pero thank you, Papa, Uncle Bon and Tiyo Polong. The two HPG who responded. Thank you, Ms. Neil Vila for sending me voice chats about everything I needed to know about the insurance. Jaymar and Ryan for listening to my rants. My workmates and my supposedly partner on tonight's 16hrs duty who asked about my condition and understood. My boss who told me to go to work nalang anytime I felt like going. Lastly, to my mother's friends who helped kahit na wala sila sa scene contacting numerous people pati na rin ang Municipal Administrator who got worried daw. Wow, I feel relevant.

Sorry Perrie, my motorcycle, nabinyagan ka tuloy. First birthday mo pa naman nung 10. I'm sorry!

You'll never know talaga. Super amazed to those whose job is to be on the road for hours on a daily.

It's not enough pala talaga na nag-iingat ka 'coz if barumbado kasama mo sa daan, wala rin.

Friendly reminder to always be alert!

[bandzrus]

My Kinda Lover (One-Shot)

The Dirt!Vince Neil x Reader

Masterlist

SUMMARY // requested by anonymous – Vince being shy around a girl, getting nervous and messing up a show when she’s there

NOTE // the year is 1981 btw, right before Motley Crue formed.  Uhg, I feel like Vince is so much harder to write than Nikki or Tommy, even though I love him.  

WORDS // 2905

TAGLIST // @mainly-me @shamelessobsessions @broken-pieces  @calspixie  @shouttatthedevill  @cigarettes-after-sexxx  @thatbandchick39  @buckyofthemyscira  @countrygirlswonderland  @kawennote09 @tommyfuckinlee @miserablecunt  @madsthegroupie  @livingforrt  @catsoo12  @whisky-a-go-go @motherloovebone @rysepieces98  @kickstartmyheartmc @voguesixx  @marvelismylifffe  @iluvmesomemarvelndc  @princesof-theuniverse

***

              It was a series of convoluted events that got you and Vince Neil together. Your brother was the leading cause of these events, and being the teasing older sibling that he was, he wasn’t ever going to let you forget it.  It started a month before it happened, when your brother finally stopped sleeping through his history class and saw Mandy.  New to school and therefore single, your brother was one of many bachelors who asked her out, all with no success.  Except your brother wasn’t a quitter, and he made it his personal mission to follow her around like a love-sick puppy opening doors for her, picking flowers, and going to every party she was invited to whether he was on the guest list or not.  And that’s how you wound up at Angie’s pool party.

              Angie was one of the most popular girls in your brother’s year and was notorious for throwing the best parties in LA.  Her parents both worked in big law firms and spent more of their time at the office than at home, which meant Angie had the run of the mansion.  It was never difficult to score an invite to one of these parties – as long as you’d never had an unpleasant run-in with Angie, you were welcome to help yourself to all the booze, bikinis, and pool floaties Angie had to offer.  You barely knew Angie and wouldn’t have gone to the party on your own accord, but your parents insisted your brother take you along since they were going out of town for the weekend and didn’t want you staying home alone too long even though you were plenty old enough to.  Your brother of course was going because Mandy was going.  And while you poked fun of him all the way there like the annoying little sister you were, it turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to you.

                “If you’re wearing your speedo right now Jason,” you warned your brother. “I’m going to disown you.”

              “Chicks dig the speedo!”

              “No we don’t!”

              “Mandy won’t be able to resist me,” grinned Jason, gripping the wheel of his ’69 Mustang casually with one hand while his other hovered over the shifter.

              “You’re going to send her into shock.”

              “Shut up.”

              “I’m going to call the police and say there’s a guy exposing himself if you come out in your speedo,” you said, feet resting on the dash.  You tapped your fingers along to “Free Ride” by The Edgar Winter Group on the radio.

              “I swear to god, Y/N if you embarrass me in front of Mandy I’ll-“

              “You don’t need my help to do that, you’re perfectly capable of embarrassing yourself all on your own,” you chided.  “And your threats don’t scare me.”

              “I’ll tell mom and dad you were drinking.”

              “Jason, I’m twenty.”

              “Yeah, underage!  They’ll ground you.”

              “When they found out I drank at Hailey Anderson’s party in eleventh grade they didn’t care,” you pointed out.  “They’re not going to ground me now.”

              Your brother frowned and didn’t say anything for a moment, knowing you’d won the argument.

              “Fine, can we agree to just leave each other alone at this party then?”

              “I would like nothing more than to not associate myself with you,” you agreed.

              “I don’t want you fucking things up between me and Mandy, I think she’s finally coming around.”

              “If you say so,” you sighed, turning your head to look out the window at the passing California hills.  It was nearing the end of May and the perfect day for a pool party, and if you were being honest you were glad you were going to a place with a swimming pool.  It was hot as hell outside.

              Angie lived up on a hill, and as your brother pulled into the long driveway you could spot part of the Hollywood sign in the distance.

              “Come on, shitbird,” Jason called, pocketing his keys and swaggering up the path to Angie’s front door.  You could already hear the party in the backyard.

              “Coming asshat,” you snapped back.  Name-calling was nothing out of the ordinary with you two, and you’d probably been reprimanded more by your parents for that than any other bad deeds. Ringing the bell, the two of you waited patiently on Angie’s doorstep until she came to the door.

              “Hey Angie!” greeted Jason, putting on what he thought was his most charming smile.

              “Hi Jason.”

              Angie was blocking the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other on the doorframe.

              “We’re here for the party.”

              “Aw, Jason!  I thought we were selling Girl Scout cookies!” you whined, giving your brother your best pouty face.  It made Angie laugh.

              “I didn’t know you had a sister,” she mused, giving you a friendly smile. Jason just rolled his eyes and sighed, abandoning his smooth-guy act.

              “My parents forced me to bring her along – I made her swear she’d just sit in a corner with a beer or something.”

              “How old are you?”

              “Twenty.”

              “Did you bring a bathing suit?”

              “Yup,” you answered, flipping up your shirt to reveal your red bathing suit.

              “Want a beer?”

              “Love one.”

              “Come on in then,” smirked Angie, lifting her arm so you could get inside the house.  Jason made to follow you, but Angie blocked him off again.

              “Hey!” he protested, throwing his hands in the air.  “What gives Ang?”

              “Did you bring a bathing suit?” she inquired, eyeing your brother up and down critically.

              “He wore his speedo,” you informed her, giving Jason your best shit-eating grin.  He flipped you off.

              “A speedo huh?”

              “Chicks dig it.”

              You and Angie shared an understanding look before she turned back to your brother and lifted her arm to let him pass.

              “Thank you,” he scoffed, shooting daggers at you.  The two of you followed Angie through the house and out to the backyard where about forty other people your age were milling around drinking beer, smoking, laughing, or splashing in the pool.  Yup, a perfect day for a pool party.  You spotted Mandy first and smacked Jason on the arm to get his attention.

              “Try to not embarrass yourself too much,” you said.  “I’m grabbing a beer.”

              “Fuck off.”

              “Gladly.”

              Watching your brother shrug off his leather jacket and run a hand through his hair like some kind of preening bird, you rolled your eyes and then headed for the drinks table.

              “Just a beer thanks.”

              “Sure.”

              Handing you a cold one from a cooler full of ice, the guy running the table waved you off as a gaggle of girls came up to him.  Popping the cap off and taking a swig, the cold liquid felt especially good on a hot day.  You noted a few people your age milling around, but then something else caught your attention.  At the far side of the pool there was a drum kit and some other instruments set up. Taking another sip of your beer, you decided to wander over and investigate.  As you were making your way over trying to catch a glimpse of who exactly was about to play, music filled the air.  You recognized the song almost instantly.

              “You got my motor racin’

              I find my thoughts embracin' your every move

              I wanna set you reelin’

              I want to make you feel the way that I do

              And oh

              I been thinkin' 'bout you for so long

              I don't want to lose ya, you're my kinda lover

              My kinda lover

              My kinda lover

              My kinda lover!”

              It was “My Kinda Lover” by Billy Squier, accept it sounded better than the original which you hadn’t thought possible.  Elbowing your way through the crowd that had gathered, you finally spotted who exactly was playing.  Three long-haired brunettes on drums, keyboard, and guitar, and smack in the middle the hottest guy you’d ever seen.  Baby blond hair, tight white snake-skin leather pants, studded belt, jean jacket – he screamed rock star.  Your jaw dropped open.

              “Oh fuck me,” you muttered under your breath.  You couldn’t take your eyes off him; none of the girls crowded around the band could.  Totally mesmerized by the way he moved his hips, the longer you stared the less you realized you were drooling.

              “My kinda lover

              My kinda lover

              My kinda lover

              My kinda lover!”

              Leaning in close to a few of the ditsy blondes next to you to finish the last bout of chorus, the band wrapped up the song.  Cheering, whistling, and swooning, your good day had just turned into a great one.  And it was about to get even better.

              “Thank you, we are Rock Candy!” said the blond, giving the crowd a winning smile.  Blinking and shaking your head, you finally realized you had drool on your chin.  The blond singer glanced over at you and chuckled as you wiped the drool off with the back of your hand.

              “Shit!” you muttered, feeling yourself blush scarlet.  The crowd was starting to dissipate now that the band was abandoning their instruments in favour of cold booze, but a few of the girls were sticking around hoping for more.  When they realized the blond wasn’t paying them any attention and looking at you instead, you could hear them make a couple nasty remarks under their breath before they too wandered off.

              “Never had that before,” commented the singer, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he adjusted the mic stand with the other.

              “Hmm?”

              “I’ve never had a girl physically drool before,” he laughed.

              “I wasn’t-“

              “I dig it.”

              “Wha- really?  I’m totally embarrassed,” you confessed.

              “Yeah.  Makes me want to actually consider being a real rock star.”

              “I thought you already were.”

              “Really?”

              “What the fuck do you think?” you laughed lightly.  “I was drooling!”

              “Now, was that over the music or just over me?” the blond asked coyly, taking a step towards you and adjusting his pants.  You bit your lip.

              “Cocky son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

              “Been told that before.”

              “Both,” you answered honestly.

              “Want to get something to eat?”

              “I’d love to.”

              Swaggering back over to the drinks table, you started munching on chips while the singer asked for a beer.  You leaned your hip against the table and ignored the judgmental stares of other girls as you waited for the blond to pop the cap off his drink.  With a hiss, the metal cap came off and he took a rock star length swig of beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

              “Before I start calling you Drool Girl, mind telling me your name?”

              You laughed.

              “It’s Y/N,” you answered.

              “Vince.”

              “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Vince.”

              You bit a particularly large chip in half and then held the other half out to Vince.

              “Pleasure to meet you too,” he said, letting you feed him the chip.

              “What brings you around here, rock star?  I’ve never seen you before.”

              “Free booze,” Vince held up his bottle.  “Hot chicks.

              This time he gestured at you.

              “What about you?”

              “I came here with my idiot brother,” you confessed.

              “Oh?  Which one’s he?”

              “The one flexing his non-existent muscles for Mandy over there,” you pointed. Your brother looked like a total wad, taking turns gawking at Mandy and his own bicep.  Vince just laughed.  

              “He thinks he’s got game.”

              “You’re related to that guy?”

              “Unfortunately yes,” you sighed, turned back to the blond and taking a sip of the beer you’d forgotten was in your hand.  “He’s been going after her for a month now, you’d think he’d give up but no.”

              “She’s way out of his league.”

              “Oooh yeah!”

              “Does he have a cool car?”

              “Huh?”

              “Does he have a cool car at least?” asked Vince, taking another long swig of his drink.

              “Yeah, he drives a Mustang,” you frowned.

              “He taken her for a drive yet?”

              “Uuuh-“ just as you were about to reply no, you saw your brother grab Mandy’s hand and by the way he was gesturing you could tell that’s exactly what they were about to go do.

              “-I was gonna say no, but…” you pointed at the two of them with the head of your beer bottle.  The singer just laughed again.

              “Do you drive anything?”

              “I’ve got a 280z.”

              “Shit, really?” Vince asked, nearly choking on his beer.

              “Yeah.”

              “I’ve wanted one of those forever.”

              “Well, you’re gonna be a rock star, I’m sure you’ll be able to afford one in no time,” you giggled, twirling a bit of hair around your finger.

              “You really think I could be a rock star?”

              “Definitely,” you purred, taking a step towards him and fiddling with the hem of his jean jacket.  

              “Hey!  Vinny!”

              It was one of the other Rock Candy members calling for the singer. Turning his head, Vince gave a nod of acknowledgement.

              “Hurry up, we’ve got another song to do!”

              “Give me a minute, geezus!”

              “Hurry the fuck up, dude!”

              “Fuckin’ asshole,” muttered Vince, turning back to you.  “Sorry ‘bout that.  Can we finish this later?  Maybe over another one of these?” he held up his beer bottle before downing the rest of its contents.

              “I’d love that.”

              “Cool.”

              And with that the blond planted a flash of a kiss on your lips before nudging his way through the crowd.  Standing there stunned for a minute, it took a particularly loud scoff from a nearby girl to snap you out of it.  

              Eating another handful of chips and finishing off your beer, you decided it was high time you peel off your street clothes and strip down to your bathing suit.  The band had already started playing, and once again you recognized the song almost instantly.  It was Deep Purple’s “Highway Star”.  Balling up your t-shirt and shorts and tossing them under the nearest hedge where nobody would bother with them, you were about to shimmy your way back to Vince through the crowd when suddenly you had a better idea.  Grinning to yourself, you jumped into the pool.  Submerged, you were pleasantly surprised at how warm the water was.  The LA sun worked fast.  You swam towards the other end of the pool, only breaking for air when you came up on the other side.  Gripping the edge with one hand, you ran your other through your wet hair.  If you were doing this right, you looked like a damn model. The crowd still had a couple gaps in it and from your vantage point you could see the singer perfectly.

              “Nobody gonna take my car

              I'm gonna race it to the ground

              Nobody gonna beat my car

              It's gonna break the speed of sound

              Oooh it's a killing machine

              It's got everything

              Like a driving power big fat tires

              And everything!”

              Vince’s eyes met yours, just as you started making the move to get out of the pool.  Pushing yourself up chest first, you winked at him.  Your bathing suit left little the imagination and you knew it.  Sliding out of the pool with more grace than even you knew was possible, Vince’s singing started to falter.

              “I love it and I need it

              I bleed it

              Y-yeah it's a wild hurricane

              Alright hold t-tight

              I'm a highway star!”

              Smoothing your hair, you let the water run off your body as you smiled and bit your lip at him.  Maybe the red on the blond’s cheeks was from the heat or the singing, but you knew better.

              “N-nobody gonna take my girl

              I'm gonna keep h-her to the end

              Nobody gonna have my girl

              She stays close on every bend-d

              Oo-ooh she's a killing machine

              She's got everything

              Like a moving mouth body c-control

              And everything

              I l-love her I need her-“

              The band was getting annoyed with Vince, you could see it on their faces and even hear it in their playing.  More than just some of the catty girls were staring at you now.  A bunch of your brother’s colleagues were too, and of course Vince couldn’t keep his eyes off you.  He cut the chorus short, and the band started to trickle off, wrapping the song up before their singer butchered it too badly.  Vince let go of the microphone and gave an apologetic look at his bandmates before stepping into the crowd.  You were still standing near the edge of the pool, one hand absently playing with your wet hair.

              “I’m sorry, was I distracting you, rock star?” you asked, faking innocence. The blond wet his lips nervously, looking down at his feet for a brief moment before back up to you.

              “You did that on purpose,” he said plainly.

              “Maaaybe.”

              “First you drool for me, and now you’re getting wet for me.”

              You knew he was talking about a different kind of wet.

              “What are you going to do about it?” you asked him, lifting an eyebrow.

              “Give me your number and you’ll find out.”

              “Fine.  Got a pen?”

              Vince looked back at one of his band buddies for a pen.  Thankfully one of them had one.  You took it and then grabbed Vince’s hand in yours.  Using your teeth to pull the cap off, you carefully scrawled your number onto the singer’s wrist.

              “There,” you finished, letting go and recapping the pen.  “Use it.”

              “Oh I will,” promised Vince.  “Especially now that I know you’ve got a 280z.”

***

Uhg, I’m so sorry this took so long for me too finish, it’s not even that long and I liked the concept.  Next on my list is part 10 of TNFT, but I may take another break soon and work on some more of my requests.  I hope this didn’t suck too much and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything!

[crows-scones-and-exy-thrones]

periwinkle + renison or maroon + andreil for the ask thing!

I'm doing both because I can!!

Renison: periwinkle

The crisp winter air brought a little chill into the quiet life of Allison and Renee as they walked along the pavement. Renee's wool mittens itched Allison's skin, but she would never admit it and pass up the chance to hold her girlfriend's hand.

Always choosing fashion over practicality, Allison had purchased a wool scarf the same periwinkle blue as Renee's mittens. Unlike Renee's mittens, however, Allison's scarf sparkled.

As another gust of wind cut through the air, Renee shivered violently. Allison looked over, concern knitting her brows together. "Do you want to head back?" she asked. Renee shook her head.

"Could we stop for a warm drink at that café we like?"

"Anything for you, Ren."

Allison kissed the top of Renee's head and wrapped her arm around Renee's shoulders, pulling her in close to shield her from the cold. Renee smiled to herself and gladly tucked into Allison's side. Allison didn't need to know that she wasn't really cold anyway.

~~~

Andreil: maroon

The music at Eden's was much louder than Neil remembered. It was pounding, pounding, pounding and his head was starting to hurt. Maybe it was the events of the day prior to their trip to Columbia, or maybe it was the music, the alcohol, the sweaty heat, that set Neil on edge, but regardless he was ready to leave.

Andrew was presumably off getting drinks, and so Neil waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until Andrew finally arrived with drinks. It was enough for four people, but Andrew drank enough for three and a half to make up for it. Neil, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer, decided he was ready to go.

"Andrew, can we get out of here?" Neil shouted over the music. His head throbbed.

"Ready so soon, junkie?" Andrew yelled in reply. The wild grin twisting his face brought Neil back to the days when Andrew was medicated, and as such Andrew was too drunk to drive.

"Give me your keys," Neil said, standing up from his place at their table for two. "We're going now."

Andrew rolled his eyes but complied, holding out his arm to link with Neil's. As Neil led himself and Andrew out of the club, he caught an eyeful of a muscular torso clad in a skintight maroon tshirt.

"You got a problem?" the tshirt wearer slurred. He was easily six feet tall and two hundred pounds of muscle.

"No, we're just leaving," Neil said, stepping around the man. The man, however, was less than pleased.

"What the hell, man!"

Neil felt hands on his shoulders and suddenly he was on the ground. Not one to be discouraged by a severe height disadvantage, he pulled himself to his feet and squared his shoulders. Before he could retaliate, a fist was colliding with the man's nose.

"Leave my boyfriend alone or it won't be your nose next time," Andrew warned darkly. Neil hurriedly took hold of Andrew's arm again and guided him out of the club.

"Boyfriend?" Neil asked.

Andrew looked at him as if he asked what color the sky was. "I thought you knew already."

Send me a color and a ship

[gluupor]

I Always Wanted a Real Home

This takes place in the universe I created in Where You Lead, my Gilmore Girls AU, featuring kid!Kevin.

Andrew shifted the bags he was carrying to one hand so he could knock. There was an immediate reaction: thumping feet running in his direction, Kevin’s childish voice yelling, “I’ll get it!”, and Neil’s response from farther in the apartment, his words undecipherable. The footsteps came to a halt on the other side of the door and the deadbolt clicked open.

“Kevin,” said Andrew loudly enough to be heard through the door. “Are you about to open the door without asking who’s knocking?”

There was a long, silent pause. “Who’s there?” Kevin finally asked.

“It’s Andrew.”

The door swung open, revealing a pout on Kevin’s five-year-old face. “I knew it was you; Dad told me you were coming.” His eyes caught on the bags in Andrew’s hands. “Did you bring me a present?”

Andrew handed over one of the bags. “Go put these under the tree,” he instructed as he stepped inside the tiny apartment. He removed his boots and coat and headed to the kitchen with his other bags.

Neil was standing in front of the stove, frowning at a piece of fairly mangled packaging.

“Are you cooking?” asked Andrew, letting his extreme skepticism bleed into his tone.

“Cookies,” said Neil, brandishing the packaging. “From a tube. I think I can manage.”

“Can you?”

“I may have ripped the bit that told me what temperature the oven’s supposed to be but 450 should be fine, right?”

“If you want charcoal briquettes,” Andrew sighed and reached over, adjusting the oven temperature to something much more reasonable. Neil leaned against him and smiled, causing a slight ache in Andrew’s chest.

“Merry Christmas,” Neil said. “Thank you for coming.”

Andrew had received his usual invitations to spend the day with Bee or with Aaron but he’d declined in favour of spending it with the Jostens. He’d come to realize that there was nowhere he’d rather be, something which worried him. He hadn’t quite decided what to do about his attraction and attachment to Neil.

“DAD! PRESENTS!” shouted Kevin.

“He's excited,” commented Andrew, unpacking his groceries into the almost-barren fridge.

“He was awake at 2,” said Neil, pouring out two mugs of coffee from his coffee maker (the only high quality appliance in the kitchen).

“Was he worried you’d disappeared again?” asked Andrew in a low voice. Kevin didn’t have any concrete memories of his mother anymore but he did carry the lasting impression that she’d left in the middle of the night and never returned. He had the habit of getting up to check that Neil hadn’t abandoned him.

“No, he just couldn’t sleep from excitement. I eventually had to threaten to take away his presents to get him to stay in bed until a reasonable hour.”

Kevin ran into the kitchen. “You said we could open presents when Andrew got here,” he said impatiently. He grabbed Andrew’s hand and started ineffectually pulling him. “Come see the tree! I decorated it myself.”

“I see that,” replied Andrew. The tree was small, but real, probably brought over by Boyd or Reynolds. All the ornaments were clustered at the front and were about three and half feet off the ground - directly level with Kevin’s eye-line.

“Look at my presents!” said Kevin, as Andrew settled on the couch. Neil perched beside him and handed over one of the mugs of coffee. “I’ve got one from you and one from Matt and one from Dan and one from Allison and one from Wymack and one from Miss Renee and one from Laila and one from Abby-”

“Breathe, bud,” said Neil.

“-and THREE from Santa and zero from Dad.”

“Oops,” said Neil. “That’s supposed to be two from Santa and one from me.”

“Santa’s wrapping ability seems to be on par with yours,” said Andrew, indicated the three messily wrapped parcels that stood out from all the neat folds and tight corners of the other presents.

“We collaborated,” said Neil.

“Can I open them now? Please, dad? Pllllllease?” whined Kevin.

Andrew flinched minutely. The word ‘please’ still held terrible connotations for him - especially when spoken in a child’s voice - but Kevin whined enough that he was becoming desensitized to hearing it.

“Open the one from Allison,” said Neil. “I don’t trust the smile she gave me when she brought it over.” He turned to Andrew. “The last time she smiled at me like that she gave Kevin cymbals.”

Allison’s gift turned out to be a collection of children’s DVDs full of colourful characters and songs that were probably specifically written to appeal to kids and to torture their parents.

“I don’t know what I did to make her hate me,” said Neil despondently.

“She doesn’t hate you,” said Kevin, looking concerned. “She likes you. She gives you hugs and pats your head and calls you kitten.”

“I’m aware,” said Neil dryly.

Kevin still looked troubled. “Once, she told Miss Renee that she’d do you if you weren’t so obivious. What’s that mean?”

Neil groaned.

“Dad? What’s obivious?”

“It means your dad doesn’t always see what’s right in front of him,” provided Andrew.

Kevin’s face cleared. “Like when he can’t find his shoes?”

“Exactly like that,” said Andrew. “Open another present.”

Kevin was sufficiently diverted by opening the rest of his presents.

“He’s so spoiled,” said Neil fondly, picking up the discarded wrapping paper once Kevin had disappeared into his room to organize his new toys. Not play with. Organize. Andrew was convinced that this was abnormal child behaviour but he appreciated it since it decreased the likelihood of him stepping on a Lego brick.

“You’re the one who decided to settle in a town full of busybodies,” said Andrew.

“Can you believe it’s been three years?”

Andrew couldn’t. His life had changed so much since Neil, looking like a zombie, had carried a screaming toddler into his diner on a late November evening. At first he’d told himself that he was helping out and keeping a close eye on him for Kevin’s sake - he was never going to allow a child to be harmed like he’d been if he could prevent it. He hadn’t needed Bee, his therapist, to point out that a lot of his initial interest was due to his own unresolved childhood issues: how many times had he wished that someone would steal him away and keep him safe?

It had taken him some time before he’d realized the danger he was in. One morning he’d handed Neil his morning coffee and Neil had given him a genuine smile and looked at him as if he were the only person on the planet that had any worth. Then Neil had taken a sip of the coffee and emitted a groan that was practically pornographic, sending a bolt of desire through Andrew’s lower belly.

Unfortunately it hadn’t taken him long to ascertain that Neil didn’t return his interest. Neil didn’t return anyone’s interest, actually, which was lucky as Andrew didn’t have to watch him date someone else. Neil was busy with his job and overwhelmed caring for Kevin and Andrew didn’t think that dating was currently in the cards for him, even if he had showed any inclination of wanting to.

Bee had told him that he had three choices.

One, he could ask Neil if he were interested in starting a romantic relationship. Andrew vetoed that; he had no desire to pressure Neil into something he may feel obligated to do because of how much he relied on Andrew.

Two, he could distance himself from Neil (and, by necessity, Kevin) and try to move on with someone else. That option made Andrew’s stomach hurt, especially since he wouldn’t be able to explain to Neil why his behaviour had suddenly changed.

Or three, he could accept that his relationship with Neil may never be exactly what he wanted but it was important and fulfilling all the same.

Andrew started on dinner fairly early. He was roasting a chicken as he wasn’t about to make an entire turkey for the three of them. For the last two years Neil had attended the dinner that Wymack provided at the Foxhole Inn for staff and guests and townspeople who had nowhere else to go, but Andrew had offered to cook this year and Neil had gladly accepted.

Kevin shuffled into the kitchen, blinking sleepily. His adrenaline had clearly worn off and his lack of sleep was catching up with him. Still, he clutched one of the DVDs from Allison and held it wordlessly out to Neil, who was keeping Andrew company and occasionally helping as Andrew prepared their meal.

“Are you sure you don’t want a nap?” asked Neil.

“Naps are for babies,” said Kevin disdainfully.

“I nap all the time,” said Neil. “I love naps.”

“For babies and disasters,” corrected Kevin.

Andrew felt his lips twitch as he put the chicken in the oven. Neil was glaring at him when he straightened.

“That is completely your fault,” he accused.

“I only speak the truth,” said Andrew.

Neil rolled his eyes and turned back to Kevin. “You go put that in the DVD player and we’ll meet you there.”

Andrew brewed another pot of coffee while Neil gathered blankets and they settled into a warm nest on the couch. Kevin climbed up beside Andrew and cuddled against him, already losing his fight with sleep. His blinks became longer and slower as the movie started.

Neil was leaning heavily on Andrew’s other side, having fallen asleep almost as soon as he’d sat down. He had the enviable ability to instantly drop off to sleep almost anywhere. Andrew knew that he must be exhausted as he’d been picking up extra shifts at the inn so he could afford to take the next week off to spend time with Kevin. He snuffled and started drooling on Andrew’s shirt.

Andrew watched the inane movie alone as Neil and Kevin slept, already knowing that at least one of the songs was going to be stuck in his head forever. He’d be humming it for weeks.

This is enough, he realized with sudden clarity. He ran a hand through Neil’s hair and wrapped his other arm around Kevin, holding him more securely as the boy snuggled into his side. This is more than enough.

[mooleche]

GIMME DAT WHOLE OTP LIST FOR PIOTR AND NINA (although I already know that Nina's the one to basically wear no clothes and Piotr's the one to tell her to put clothes on, lol).

MY TABLET ISN’T HERE OTHERWISE THERE’D BE A DRAWING W/THIS ABOUT THAT LOL

It will come later Ψ( ●｀▽´● )ΨAs always I’m sorry for mobile users please don’t hate me - THIS WAS FUN TY!

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?Probably Colossus, though they both end up pooling their money together a lot of the time to buy Venom a lot of chocolate delicacies to keep him happy. Nina usually spends a good chunk on surprising Piotr with art supplies which end up costing a pretty penny, while he swears up and down that he has to be the gentleman and pay for their dinner dates despite her being stubborn and wanting to help. 2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?Nina usually, but it depends on the time. Colossus is far too large to sit in her lap (despite her brave offerings), but catch him trying to stay up late at night with Nina sitting in his lap and he'll end up resting his head against hers as he finally gives in to rest. Nina on the other hand will often curl up against him while he's reading in the daytime and rest her head against his chest so she can listen to his heartbeat (she always gets a giggle out of it because it beats a little faster when he realizes this).3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?You guessed Nina and you were RIGHT. She's shy about her ink covered hands and some battle scars but that won't stop her from revealing the goods under the clothes (especially on hot summer days). She usually relies on Venom to transform into her clothes so on days that she's no longer his host or she's running late and forgets Colossus is ready to scoop her up and drag her back into their room or home to make her put on some clothes (but not before she tempts him back to bed for some fun).4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?Nina is very much the night owl in the relationship while Colossus is the old man and calls her before bed to tell her not to stay up too late. This unfortunately goes in one ear and out the other as the night is when she fights crime the most and also when she works on her college studies because she procrastinates until the very last minute. On nights that she's working extra hard he'll often wake up to find her passed out on the couch to which he gently wakes her up with coffee and a kiss so she's not completely dead during the daytime.5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?Colossus is definitely the better cook of the two, but damn if Nina doesn't try. With two parents who often cooked their meals together Nina likes to think she can do the same but usually ends up messing up burning the dish because she gets distracted by one thing or another (ie Wade calling to dish the deets on his latest murder fest). This results in Colossus usually shaking his head and preparing a nice dish for them instead if he's got the time. If not they usually settle for takeout somewhere and laugh over it.6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?Colossus doesn't usually spend a lot of time on the internet so when Nina sends him one and goes 'This is us!' he usually has to have to explain it so it makes sense sdsjgksk7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?Nina, hands down. Even though the size difference is LORGE she loves wearing his hoodies out and his shirts to bed. Colossus never complains though, because seeing her in his clothes turns him into the goofiest little lovebug because she looks so darn cute in them. As a result his wardrobe suffers quite a bit because of this. He tried to turn the tables once by wearing one of her shirts and needless to say Nina calling him the Hulk for a short while after was entirely justified. 8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”Nina will usually run errands for Colossus due to his hectic schedule at the mansion (and inability NOT to take forever when reading the nutrient labels), which he appreciates but often has to send her reminders because she's so forgetful when in a hurry. In the end she still manages to forget SOMETHING and they end up taking a more leisure trip later on to retrieve the items.9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?Due to Colossus' size he's usually forced into the passenger or backseat, so Nina is the driver most of the time. They tend to bicker when she's at the wheel because she goes a little too fast and he's worried she'll get pulled over, but also because Colossus will slip into Russian if he doesn't know the proper english term for some signals which leads to chaos. He tries his best though and she appreciates his navigation for that.10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?They both take usually take turns since they enjoy drawing and painting, Nina a little more though due to her class projects. He's usually a bit shy about the whole thing because Nina has a permanent mischevious smile on her face when he's posing. Colossus often rolls his eyes and chuckles when she poses for him because every time he looks back she's making a new pose/face to surprise him with.11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?Nina's definitely the one to be a super sleuth through the lasers while Colossus waits in the wings because he's 100% not for this idea and was dragged along to be the brawn if need be.Let's be real though she absolutely trips the wire after being smug and saying they wouldn't have any issues pop up during the heist.12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?Due to being Venoms host Nina has an incredible alcohol tolerance so she can outdrink a fair number of her peers, including Colossus. She usually has to stop him from drinking too much at the end of the night because he turns into a big loveable lush that is hard to control (though it'd be a lie to say she didn't love the PDA he gives while sloshed). By the time the morning rolls around Colossus swears off drinking for a long time while Nina spends the morning showering him in water, aspirin and a big greasy breakfast to help soak up the booze while recounting all the crazy night events.13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?They both do! Colossus usually buys some type of flower or fancy chocolate for Nina when he's out and about, or a trinket from wherever his last mission takes him while Nina usually scours old record stores to look for Neil Diamond vinyls or paintbrushes while out restocking her own inventory. They both usually try to surprise one another with coffee at least once a week and eventually decided to make it a usual thing so they could have a small date on the go.14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?They usually don't have an issue using the other's name unless its something like one of them being in the hospital and needing spouse visitation. Nina will sometimes tease Colossus by calling herself 'one of the Rasputins' as a joke but it just makes Colossus want it to become a reality even more every time she does.15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?Colossus usually is the hero of the day and will take the spider outside while Nina screams blood murder and will launch herself against the wall in an attempt to get away from it. Piotr usually is quick to call out the irony in her being scared because she has spider senses due to Venom sdgjskjs16: Which one gives the other their jacket?Colossus. Nina hates being cold so he always ends up wearing one on their outtings just in case she starts feeling chilly. This usually gives him a good laugh because she disappears in his jackets due to how much bigger he is.17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?Illyana often goes between being Colossus' little snowflake and debating on whether to sell his soul for a cornchip and Nina's 'sister' is a retired assassin who would gladly go out of retirement if someone even looked at her the wrong way, so I would say Ania.18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?OHO BOY. The setup for this is going to be an absolute hoot, all I will say is that it's Nina and she does it after Venom gets fed up with her pining over him so hard that he literally does the big 'Fuck It' moment. She's had feelings for him since she first saw him at an interview after Russell is taken in for the Ice Box so it's been a long time coming. Colossus on the other hand only realizes his feelings after she almost dies and it grows into this big ugly crush. She laughs at something? There's that familiar knot in his stomach. A smile? His feet suddenly don't work so well. And literally everyone BUT Nina notices how strange he's beginning to act kgfjkdgd19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?Definitely a bit rocky at first but power parents fo sho. Nina is high key nervous about being a parent because she's not very fond of children, but Colossus reassures her that they can overcome anything together and dotes on her constantly to make sure she's comfortable. They work together to make sure the baby room is painted with little animal murals and spend nights singing russian and french lullabies to her belly before bed.When the baby actually arrives? Nina turns into a full momma bear and would gladly kill everyone in the room and then herself if anything happened to their child. Colossus is the proudest papa in the world and basically turns into Hughes from FMA where he carries a dozen photos of their child in his wallet to dish out whenever someone even looks in his general direction. All in all they work hard to help one another out to make sure they're not both zombies but also that their little detka is happy and healthy.20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?Although he's usually proper with his english vocally, Colossus is definitely the one to type with numbers as letters and shortens what he can when texting because he struggles to use anything that isn't a beeper. Nina suffers greatly because of this.21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?Nina is usually the one getting bullied by bigger/stronger enemies on missions and Colossus is always quick to come to her side to protect her. He usually teases that HE should be named Knight instead of her because of this, but she's quick to get up and repay the favor to him for his heroic efforts. There ARE some instances where the tables are turned though and she's able to save Colossus from bullies, and she usually demands a 'victory kiss' in repayment after pbppbt.22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?Colossus is definitely the one to make the bad puns while Nina attempts to smile at it and fails every time. But she tries, good god does she try.23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?Colossus pbpbpt. He comes home to a lot of little surprises and is often thinking 'what will I come home to today' because of this, so he's pleasantly surprised when he comes home one day and a puppies head pops out of Ninas hoodie to greet him at the door. 24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?Colossus sjdgks Piggybacks aren't uncommon between the two. Nina uses her spider grip to climb up his back on many occasions and sit on his shoulders, especially during briefings before missions and after the more difficult missions. While he thinks it's a bit silly Colossus doesn't mind because he enjoys feeling her wrap her arms wrapped around him.25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?Nina is usually the overzealous cheerer when it comes to Colossus getting into fights on missions that they're on together. Showdown between Colossus and Juggernaut? You bet she's on the sidelines rooting for him to kick him in the balls. He says he doesn't mind it but it DOES make him very bashful after.26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?Nina. She's big on taking photos as mementos and this situation is no different and loves catching little moments like him sleeping or painting unawares to look at later when they're far away from one another. 27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?Nina. Colossus has a fairly bland wardrobe so getting a request like that isn't farfetched for her, and although he hates going shopping for new clothes (hence the scarce variety) he trusts her to pick a few good outfits for future date nights and the like, which she definitely does no problem along with some ~special~ intimates that he has to model off for her later in the night.28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?HEHEHE. Venom technically isn't a pet but Nina often coddles him like one and Colossus is absolutely mortified by him for a very long time. Between finding out that he enjoys eating people and seeing the level of madness he can create when paired with the wrong host he thinks that the sassy little symbiote is a ticking time bomb with Nina until they bond over how much they both care for her. He eventually realizes he's not SO bad and sneaks chocolate to him at night when Nina is sleeping to keep him content.29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?Colossus. Nina tried once but she was much too short for her attempts and they both got soaked in the process. Now Colossus keeps her close in one arm while holding the umbrella in the other.30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?It's a toss-up! They both have their own designated places they want to take the other. Colossus wants to take Nina to Russia to visit his homeland while Nina wants to take Colossus to Paris to introduce him to her French relatives and childhood. Since Colossus' family farm is in ruins due to his family passing, they pay their respects and then go sight-seeing around Moscow and the local art museums.In Paris they would visit her grandmother and relatives who instantly go nuts over Piotr like he was one of their own and they give them a grand tour of the area and special sights. Piotr definitely surprises her (because we all know he would pull this type of thing) and splurges to get a hotel room that overlooks the city and Eiffel Tower because she wants to be extra romantic and boy howdy does it w o r k. They would probably both take pictures. Nina would take most of the scenic pictures and catching Piotr admiring the artwork while Piotr would be in charge of taking selfies because of how tall he is sgjdskgs

[raynertodd]

Fic: Oh Brother (2/6)

Jason decides to go to college. He thinks South Carolina is far enough away from Gotham that his family will leave him alone. He’s wrong.

(or: 5 times Jason’s brothers visit him at college and one time Bruce comes too)

(This started as a ‘what if Jason gave up the superhero life and went to college’ fic and turned into a sort-of crossover with the All For The Game series when I started thinking about Jason at Palmetto and how good he could be at Exy. Mostly though, this is about Jason and his family. )

Part 1

Read on AO3

*

Jason is blissfully left alone after Dick’s visit. They call, and he texts back to let them know he’s alive.

His first game with the Foxes is at home. They win, but it’s close and rough and everything Jason hoped Exy would be.

He doesn’t miss the awed looks on his teammates faces when he flips over his opponents with ease during the game. It’s his impressive vertical leap that makes him so effective on the field, combined with his analytical mind predicting other players moves making him an almost unstoppable defensive player. It’s definitely not what Bruce and Talia had in mind when they trained him, but Jason is nothing if not adaptable.

He’s slow to change out after the game. He takes his time in the showers, letting the hot water pound into his tired muscles. There aren’t many of his teammates left in the changerooms when Jason finally emerges from the shower. Neil approaches him, the co-captain already fully changed.

“There’s someone waiting for you outside,” Neil says. Jason’s face falls into a frown, already cataloguing which member of his family it could be. “Said his name was Tim, that he was your brother?” The last part comes out as a question. Jason thinks he intimidates Neil. Funny, because Neil is the only one on the team that Jason considers a real threat.

“Fucking replacement,” Jason says under his breath, then turns to Neil. “Thanks, I’ll be out soon.”

Neil nods and leaves. Jason begrudgingly finishes getting dressed and heads out.

“Replacement,” he greets his brother. “What brings you to South Carolina?” He tries to keep his tone light for the sake his teammates milling about, but he knows Tim can see the rage in his eyes.

“I had a meeting today for WE,” Tim shrugs. “Thought I’d stick around to check out your game. Nice dye-job, by the way.”

“How convenient,” Jason rolls his eyes, ignoring the last comment..

“Jason,” Matt calls over to them. “We’re getting food at the diner, you coming? Bring your brother!”

“I am kind of hungry,” Tim says, looking to his brother for permission.

Jason studies Tim for a moment, then says, “fuck it,” and tells Matt that they’ll meet the group at the diner.

The rest of his team get there first, so Jason and Tim join their table. It’s a booth, which is a nightmare for strategic positioning, but he doesn’t bring attention to it. He simply slides in next to Neil, letting Tim take the outside seat.

Matt looks at him, expectantly. It takes Jason a moment to realise they’re waiting for an introduction.

“This is Tim,” he says. “Tim, the team.”

“Is this another brother?” Dan asks with a grin.

“Sure am,” Tim matches her expression. “It’s so nice to meet all of Jason’s friends.”

“Do you have any embarrassing baby photos? Or stories? He hasn’t told us anything,” Nicky prompts.

Tim hesitates, looking to Jason.

“We’re adopted. Tim didn’t come along until after I di- moved out,” Jason says flatly, hoping no one noticed his hasty correction. “We only really met a few years ago. I suppose Dick has some photos from when we were younger, but he wasn’t around that much.”

“Huh,” Matt says, processing the information.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have any embarrassing photos, though,” Tim breaks the tense silence, pulling out his phone. He scrolls through his camera roll, his face lighting up when he reaches what he was looking for. “Our younger brother has a lot of pets. Whenever Jason visits, they follow him everywhere and it drives Damian mad.”

Tim passes around his phone, showing the group photos of Jason in various rooms of the manor looking like Snow White with Damian’s cat, dog, and - in one case - cow trailing behind him.

Dan, Nicky and Alison find the photos hilarious. “Please send me a copy of these,” Alison says, her eyes locked on Tim.

“Gladly,” Tim smirked.

“It’s like having another Steph,” Jason despairs, then turns to Tim with wide eyes. “Don’t even think about introducing them. It’s been nice having some peace and quiet.”

“Who’s Steph?” Nicky asks.

“Tim’s ex-girlfriend.”

“She’s also best friends with our sister, Cass.”

“How many siblings do you have?” Renée asks. “Jason doesn’t talk about your family.”

“It’s a complicated family,” Tim shrugs. “Dick’s the oldest, then Jason. Cass is the next oldest, but I was adopted first. Damian’s the youngest and Bruce has recently taken in Duke, who is older than Damian but younger than me.”

The group seem satisfied with Tim’s answer and quickly move on to talk about the rest of the Exy season. Later, when the group starts to disperse, Tim gets a chance to talk to Jason alone.

“I hope you can come to another game, Tim,” Alison says.

Tim looks to Jason to gauge his reaction. “I’d like to, but I don’t when I’ll be able to. Between school and work I don’t get a lot of free time.”

“You could make it a family trip - we’d love to meet the other brothers, and your sister,” she continues.

“That’s not a good idea,” Jason says.

“Y’know Bruce has been saying he wants to come to a game,” Tim says slowly.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“Which I why I talked him out of coming today,” Tim nods.

Jason looks at him strangely. “Thanks.”

“But he won’t stay away forever,” Tim continues. “And I know Dick wants to come back - I think even Damian misses you, even if he’d never admit it.”

“Demon spawn misses me?” Jason scoffs. “Have you hit your head recently, Replacement?”

The rest of the team make their way outside, seeming to sense the tension between the brothers.

Tim looks at Jason expectantly.

“Bruce knows I don’t want to see him, why do you think I’m in South fucking Carolina?” Jason tries and fails to keep his voice down. “If I wanted to talk to him, I know where to find him.” Tim opens his mouth to speak but Jason cuts him off in a low voice, his Red Hood voice. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re keeping tabs on police records around here too. I know he doesn’t trust me, but I haven’t broken his goddamn rule and I don’t appreciate you and Dick checking up on me.”

“Jason-” Tim starts.

“No,” Jason cuts him off. “We’re done talking about this. You can stay the night if you need to, but if you bring up Bruce again I will not hesitate to show you exactly why people fear the Red Hood.”

“Okay,” Tim nods. “Duly noted.”

[justlookfrightened]

NHL!Jack, Part 3

There's a short NSFW bit towards the beginning; if you want to skip it, stop after the second graf (ending "feeling their time was limited"). Skip the next three grafs, picking up at "When it was over ...") and know both of them enjoyed themselves immensely, and that Jack was a little surprised at how comfortable it was.

Part 1   Part 2  Part 4   Part 5

Part 6   

Part 7   or AO3

When it came time to leave Bitty’s hotel room, Jack tried very hard not to think about the fact that the next time he talked to Bitty, he’d likely be three states away. The distance would only grow when the Falconers returned to Providence.

He tried to focus on the last two hours instead. It wasn’t magical, precisely, but it was awfully good — and far less awkward than Jack had feared. They hadn’t done so much, really. In some ways, it reminded him of the first fumbling encounters with Kent, fast and sloppy blow jobs and hand jobs in nondescript hotel rooms on the road, knowing the door was locked against their teammates, but always feeling their time was limited.

With Bitty, though, it was so much better. Not only because Bitty had a small bottle of lube tucked into his bag, which made the feeling of Bitty’s hand stroking him exquisite. Then when Bitty pushed him down and settled between his knees without Jack even having to ask -- no, Bitty had done the asking, looking up at Jack from under his lashes, saying “Can I?” -- that was nearly enough to make Jack come as soon as Bitty’s mouth touched him.

Then he lasted what should have been an embarrassingly short time, but Bitty seemed to take it in stride, just spreading some lube on Jack’s hand, joining it with his, and placing both of them on his own still-hard erection.

“Like this,” Bitty whispered into Jack’s neck, showing Jack how to pull at him. In the end, he didn't last much longer than Jack.

When it was over and they’d cleaned up, Bitty pulled the covers over them and curled into Jack’s side.

“Sleep or talk?” Bitty asked.

It was all Jack could do to stay awake, but he murmured, “Don't want to waste our time together.”

“But you're tired, sweet pea,” Bitty said. “Tell you what, ask me questions and I'll just ramble along."

Jack tried to protest because Bitty had a long day of driving ahead of him, but Bitty just started talking about the mini pies he’d made when Jack turned up in Samwell. So Jack asked him how he learned to cook, and Bitty told Jack about spending days in his MooMaw’s kitchen while his Mama and coach were at work.

“Your coach?” Jack asked.

“Coach is my dad, not my coach,” Bitty said. “He's the high school football coach in town. Everyone calls him Coach.”

Jack wanted to pursue that, but it might be too much at this time of night.

“What was the music you were listening to when you were making breakfast?”

That was either a very good or very bad question, judging by the way Bitty dropped his jaw and gasped audibly.

“You didn't recognize Beyonce? Vintage Beyonce even? Wait, who do you listen to?”

Jack shrugged. He knew what was coming.

“Euh, Coldplay, Wilco, maybe some Neil Young or Tom Petty.”

“Oh my God, Jack,” Bitty said. “Anyone from this century?”

“Adele can sing,” Jack said.

Bitty allowed that Adele could, in fact, sing, but then started throwing names at him. Some were the same names that Jack heard in association with music from the younger guys in the locker room, but for all that he could say they were musicians, he had no idea which singer went with which song.

“Oh, my Lord, Jack, are you sure you don’t have actual children somewhere? Because you and Coach could bond over, I don’t know, the Traveling Wilburys or something,” Bitty said. Jack knew he was being chirped about his dad music, but the affection in it was plan on Bitty’s face and in his voice, so Jack just said, “I like them,” and started singing, “She’s My Baby.”

Bitty laughed, more with him than at him, and said, “Be prepared. I will be sending you playlists.”

“Are those like mixtapes?” Jack asked., trying to keep the proper sense of bewilderment in his voice but nearly laughing instead.

“Hush, you,” Bitty said. “I know you know what a playlist is.”

When they’d settled again, this time with Bitty’s head on Jack’s shoulder and Jack stroking the short, soft hair behind his ear, Bitty asked, “Don’t be mad at me asking, but you do know how to use Skype, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “I Skype with my parents once or twice a week.”

“If we exchange contact information, maybe we could Skype when you have time?” Bitty said. “I know how busy you are now, and if things go the way we hope, it’ll be that way for a little while yet, but maybe we could find a time that works for you? On your off days?”

Jack bent his neck to kiss the top of Bitty’s head. “Every day,” he said. “Or at least, I’ll try. Once next season starts, it might be hard, depending on our schedules.”

Bitty had nodded, a movement Jack felt rather than saw, and said, “We’ll try our best.”

Then Bitty had yawned, and they lay there together in comfortable silence until the alarm on Bitty’s phone told them it was time for Jack to go.

********************************

If it wasn’t for the time Jack spent talking to Bitty, he’d gladly have forgotten the next two days.

On Friday, the day Bitty left, Jack slept late and woke up to a text from Bitty -- it was a selfie of him and Shitty and Lardo in the breakfast room at their hotel, all holding up those make-your-own waffles that were a fixture of hotel breakfast.

The text included a links to an Instagram and a Twitter account, where Bitty had shared the picture with the caption Spending time with some of my favorite people! #FreeBreakfast #bonus

Jack followed both accounts and noted that neither post included a location tag. Bitty might have been anywhere.

A few minutes later, there was another text, this one just to Jack.

Packed up and headed out. Gonna drop Shitty and Lardo at the train station so they can go back to Boston and head for Georgia. Skype at 10 tonight? That should give me plenty of time.

Jack texted back, Sure thing, I already miss you.

The reply came before he even put the phone down.

Me too sweetpea.

What followed was a usual road off-day: high-protein breakfast, light workout, team meetings, lunch, watching tape, rest, team dinner, more tape. Marty sought him out at lunch but couldn’t pry too much because the other guys were there. He just asked how Jack’s dinner with his friend had gone.

“Friends, actually,” Jack said. “But it was good to get away from hockey for a bit.”

He wasn’t sure whether Tater noticed Marty’s raised eyebrows; he joined the conversation by saying, “I didn’t know Zimmboni had friends in Washington.”

“They were just here for a visit,” Jack said. “They left this morning.”

“Lucky you could hook up then,” Tater said, and Marty choked and blamed the water for going down the wrong pipe.

Every couple of hours, Jack would get a text from Bitty, sometimes with a photograph of an old gas station or just a quip about how he knew he was getting further south by the way the humidity was making his hair frizz.

There was a picture about 1 p.m. of a bowl of barbecue and a biscuit, and at around 7:30, there was a picture of a two-story house with a deep shaded porch and an attached garage. The grass was a brilliant green, and the soil that showed at the edges of the driveway and front walk was more russet than black. A red flag with a big black G in the center hung from a pole attached to the porch.

Home sweet home, the caption read.

Then, Mama’s gonna want to feed me and hear all about my trip. Still on to Skype at 10?

I’ll be waiting, Jack texted back.

He wondered if Bitty telling his mother all about his trip included telling her about Jack. Jack decided it probably didn’t. They hadn’t yet discussed how private they would keep their relationship; so far, only Shitty and Lardo really knew. And Marty, probably.

It would be fine with Jack if Bitty wanted to tell his parents. But it was something they should talk about.

Jack decided he wouldn’t talk about Bitty to his parents when he called them. Telling them would be perfectly safe -- he was sure of that -- but it should be something he and Bitty decided together.

Still, it made for an awkward Skype call home. Jack felt like he sounded kind of pathetic: What had he been doing outside of hockey? Nothing really. Just hanging out with the team, watching tape, sometimes taking a break to watch the History Channel (every hotel had the History Channel) or read a book, because Mama and Papa insisted that being a hockey player did not mean he should neglect his mind. If not for Bitty, that’s exactly what he would have done, but now (after two dates? Encounters?) he felt like he was leaving the best parts out. Even if he really couldn’t have talked about all the best parts. But the mini pies and the omelets and the falafel and Bitty chirping him over his musical taste -- he could have told them all of that.

Maybe that was why, when Bitty connected their Skype call and popped up in his screen, he jumped in way too quickly. He did take a moment to appreciate that Bitty was clearly in his childhood bedroom, with cream colored walls, a shelf behind him with lots of medals, and a poster of a beautiful woman (Jack assumed she was Beyonce from the way Bitty talked about her) and a poster of Patrick Chan.

Bitty himself was smiling a little too brightly, like he was tired and didn’t want to show it.

“Hey there,” Bitty said. “Good rest day?”

“Good enough,” Jack said. “The usual. I just talked to my parents.”

“What a coincidence,” Bitty said. “I just talked to mine.”

“I wanted to know if it was ok if told my parents about us,” Jack said. “I didn’t tonight, because we hadn’t discussed it, but I wanted to. It’s fine with me if you told your parents, or if you want to.”

Bitty sat up the way he did when something surprised him (and Jack loved that he already knew that) and said, “Jack, my parents don’t know.”

“About what?” Jack said.

“About me,” Bitty said. “They don’t know I’m gay.”

“But you said you’d known since you were a kid,” Jack said. “And Shitty knew, and Lardo, so I guess your college team did?”

“Yes, all of that, but just because I knew doesn’t mean I told anyone here,” Bitty said. “Jack. this is a small town in Georgia. What’s more, I’m the football coach’s kid. I can’t be gay here. It wouldn’t be good for me. Heck, it could cost Coach his job, unless he publicly disowned me or something.”

“That makes no sense,” Jack said. “How could your sexual orientation have anything to do with your dad’s job?”

“It doesn’t, but there are people who would think that they made me gay or something, or that my being gay is a punishment visited upon my parents,” Bitty said. “My dad serves at the pleasure of the school board. They don’t need a real reason to let him go. I mean, he’s the winningest coach they ever had, so I don’t think they would, but that wouldn’t matter if the team turned on him,”

“But can’t you at least tell your parents?” said Jack, recalling some of the fond memories Bitty had shared with him after the game in Washington. “Even if you don’t tell anyone else. Keeping secrets like that -- it can’t be good for you.”

Bitty shrugged and didn’t look exactly at the camera. “I’m not sure how they would take it,” he said. “I mean, if they don’t already know, they suspect, but they never bring it up, and neither do I. Anyway, I told them at dinner that I’m leaving for Houston next week. It’s not like I’m really out there, but even as a member of the Aeros, people are paying less attention to what I do than they do here. And I’m pretty sure Ricks and Pops know, or at least think I’m gay, and they don’t care.

“So then Mama and Coach all but accused me of being too big for my britches, wanting to move away. Until I said I wanted to train with the strength coach to make it more likely I’ll make the team out of camp next year. Once it was about sports, Coach was all for it.”

Jack stopped and thought about the Aeros he knew -- Pops, of course, and Gus and Monty -- and said, “The ones I know are good guys. I wouldn’t expect any of them to give you a problem. If you wanted to be out-out, like publicly, I’m not sure how the marketing people would take it.”

“What about you?” Bitty asked Jack. “Marty knows. Anyone else?”

“My parents,” said Jack. “And I was in a relationship with someone else who ended up in the league, but it was a long time ago. I’m pretty sure other guys know, or at least think I’m not straight. But I’ve been around a while. I guess I’m not saying I’m ready to be out either, but if it happened, I’d be ok. Your position is a little tougher.”

“I know,” Bitty said.

“We’ll be as careful as you need to be,” Jack said, and felt a lump rise in his throat at what he was about to say next. “But are you sure you want to do this? I want to, but I’ll understand if you don’t. No one has to know anything happened between us.”

“Hush, you,” Bitty said, giving a small but genuine smile. “Of course I do. I don’t invite just anyone out for late-night falafel. I’m sorry I’m so serious.”

Jack smiled in relief and changed the subject.

“Why do you have a poster of Patrick Chan on your wall?”

“You don’t know Beyonce and you know Patrick Chan?” Bitty asked.

“I am from Canada,” Jack said. “I was at Sochi.”

“Of course you were,” Bitty said. “Wait -- do you actually know him?”

Jack shrugged.

“We’ve met,” he said.

*****************************************

The next day was more of the same for Jack: fuel his body, rest, bond with his team, until the game started.

This game was a disaster. The Falconers weren’t shut out, but it was a near thing. Thirdy scored a meaningless goal five minutes before the end of the game, but at 4-1 it already felt out of reach.

When it was over, Jack tapped Snowy’s helmet and said, “That wasn’t on you, man.”

It wasn’t. Maybe one of the goals was a little soft, but other times Snowy stood on his head to bail out his team. Anyway, all wins were team wins and all losses were team losses.

Since it was a matinee, the team cleaned up and boarded the bus to head directly to the airport and go home, preparing for a game Tuesday night.

Most of the veterans -- the guys Jack’s age or older -- were looking forward to their own beds, and many of them couldn’t wait to see their wives and kids. Some were looking to reconnect with their girlfriends.

Mats told them they had tonight off; after that, they’d be sequestered in a hotel until the next game, because no one needed to be getting up to handle 2 a.m. feedings or soothe restless toddlers or “indulging in other late-night activities,” Mats said, the night before the most important game of the season so far.

Jack was pretty sure he was the only one flying further from the person he wanted to see, and pretty sure he was the only one who was wishing he could spend time with his boyfriend. Was Bitty his boyfriend yet? Jack wanted him to be.

Marty sat next to him on the plane.

Using the cover of the engine noise, he leaned closer to Jack.

“How’re things with Bitty?”

“Good,” Jack said, because despite an awkward conversation the night before, they were good. He really liked Bitty, was pretty sure that he could love Bitty given half a chance. “He’s really good. We’re going to try to make something work.”

“I’m happy for you,” Marty said. “How long have you been here? Seven years? This is the first time I’ve seen your head turned. Pops says he’s a good kid.”

“About that,” Jack said. “Is it going to be ok, Pops knowing about this? I mean, I trust you, and Pops has always seemed like a good guy. But Bitty’s new in the league, and they might not want someone that seems like he’s rocking the boat.”

“Nah, you don’t have to worry about Pops,” Marty said. “He wants Bitty to be happy, and he wants Bitty to be happy there. What about his friend Ricks?”

“Bitty thinks he’s fine,” Jack said. “But he hasn’t told either of them defininitively.”

Marty shrugged.

“Maybe keep it that way for a little while? Not that I think there’s a problem, but the more people know …”

“I know,” Jack said. “But thanks. For telling me to go for it.”

“Whatever you need, kiddo,” Marty said.

“Oh -- I hope you don’t mind,” Jack said. “I gave Bitty your phone number. He said he wants to know your favorite kind of pie. But don’t expect it until we’re done playing.”

Marty laughed.

“Tell him peach,” Marty said. “And he can call me anytime.”

[trashyazeohane]

I feel like this one will be one big one-shot (it kinda is, but filled with a lot of dialogues). This part is mostly written from David’s point of view (lol finally haha xD)

And big thanks too -> @amlenaya @the-pinkest-bunny @lunavamp14! Your comments made me want to write <3!

And as always enjoy (enjoy the angst and fluffiness)!!

Part 1 can be found here!

Adult!Maxvid!AU - Part 7 (I really like angst lol):

David went to Gwen. She wasn’t gladly living far away, maybe around 15 or 20 minutes on foot. And this was exactly what David did. Walked there on foot. He rang a doorbell and Gwen opened him the door even without asking who was there.

David went to the correct floor and knocked on her door.

“It’s open!”

So he pushed the door and walked inside.

Gwen’s house was a very tini tiny small apartment, which only had one big room connected with a kitchen and a bathroom. It wasn’t much, Gwen totally hated it, but David kinda liked the comfy vibe he was getting from it.

When David entered, Gwen peeked at him from behind the fridge which was currently open.

“Oh heyyy – yyyou really look like shit.”

David lifted his head, only to sniff at the end.

“Are you going to cry?” The woman quickly asked, putting away whatever she had in her hands.

“No.” David said, even though he wasn’t sure if that was the full truth. “It was cold outside.”

Gwen glanced outside the window, like she was checking if the snow that had been there earlier was still holding onto the windowsill tightly.

“Okay, I almost believe you. Now sit, enjoy your cocoa and tell me what is wrong.”

David exhaled slowly the air – the tension he had been holding inside of him. His shoulders immediately slumped down as he wrapped his cold fingers around the warm, steaming cup. He tried to collect all his thoughts inside his head, to form some kind of coherent message, but found them swirling around like he was in the middle of a storm. Where should he start? What should he even say?

Gwen sat in front of him on and stared absentmindedly at a TV. She didn’t urge David and allowed him to take his time. Or at least for first few minutes. Because when she saw he had problems with starting, she decided to nudge him.

“Okay, let’s start from the very beginning…” Gwen scratched the back of her head. “Is it about that one night when you drank quite too much?”

David nodded.

“So you did something when you were drunk, right?”

Another nod.

“Okay… does this involve someone?”

David twitched and then one more time hesitantly nodded.

“So, do you regret it?”

David licked his lips and opened his mouth:

“It’s hard to regret something you don’t even remember.”  He finally said, feeling as something in him squirmed and clenched at that confession. “But yeah… I regret it… in a way…” David murmured, lifting the cup to his lips.

Gwen hummed and rested her face on her palm.

“So… what exactly happened?” She asked.

David stared at the cup. The whole reason for being here was that he could talk with Gwen. And he knew he could talk with her. She had proved it so many times that David had lost count. She had been with him through bad and good times for so so many years.

Plus he really needed to get it out.

He only hoped Max wouldn’t mind.

“Okay, okay… okay…”  David murmured to himself, calming his rapidly beating heart with this mantra. “Okay…”

Gwen slowly sipped her tea from the cup when David probably literally (or not) threw a grenade at her.

“I… had sex with Max.”

Okay, maybe saying it while Gwen was taking a sip wasn’t the smartest moment of his life – because whatever she had had in her mouth was now on the table.

It took few minutes for Gwen to catch her breath and get the liquid out from her windpipes. David wanted to go help her, but she raised her hand to show that she was okay. Or more or less okay, so he cleared the table.

“Okay…” Gwen said, taking inhales of sweet, sweet air. ”Okay okay okay okay okay okay… That was not what I expected!”

David squirmed in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. Maybe… maybe this was a bad idea? Maybe he should keep his mouth shut and suffer in silence? What were few days without sleep? People can live like that, right?

Right?

Gwen looked at him.

“Okay, let’s start from the very beginning… So you went out with Max on Friday evening?”

“Yes.”

“And started drinking in some pub?”

“That is correct.”

“And then what?”

David scrunched his nose.

“I… don’t remember much… or like nothing at all almost…” David said, pinching the bridge of his nose with the thumbs of his connected hands. “I think Max took me home? And then…”

“So you don’t remember what happened?”

“No. Sometimes I see flashes in front of my eyes, but that’s all…” That sounded miserable.

Gwen cleared her throat.

“So how do you know what really happened?”

“Because I woke up naked, covered in semen, with an aching butt and hickeys all over my neck!” David said, too loud for comfort. Then he blinked and turned bright red. F… frick, he didn’t mean to shout it out loud. “Plus Max kinda simply told me.”

“Okay, first of all – too many information.” Gwen shivered heavily. “And second – so you both talked after that?”

“He was still in my house when I woke up, so it was hard not to talk. Plus it wasn’t like I didn’t want to talk with him anymore after that.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No–“

“So about what you two were talking about?”

“What we should do from now on…”

“And what did you say?”

So, so, so many questions. But he knew Gwen only wanted to help and because of her being a psychology major she needed to know everything. So David tried to answer her as calmly as he could.

“That we need to… forget about that night?”

At this Gwen blinked, taken aback. A clear uncertainty beamed from her face as she then furrowed her eyebrows.

“And how did Max react to that? And be honest.” Gwen said, leaning forward and putting her both arms on the table.

“He said that he was…” David took a deep breath, trying to calm his shuddering nerves. “… okay with that…”

“…but?” Gwen asked, clearly catching that this wasn’t the honest truth.

“Gwen.”

“But?” She insisted, looking right into his eyes.

David sighed. Might as well tell her the whole story. He could only hope Max wouldn’t be mad at him. Well, judging by the fact that he still didn’t message David… that could be already the case. The situation couldn’t be worse.

“But… he didn’t look that happy about… that idea?”

Gwen hummed and nodded at that. She looked like she was thinking this over and over in her head for few seconds, maybe even a minute, before she leaned back on the chair and totally changed the topic.

“Okay…” She one more time nodded to herself. “And how do you feel about that? And you still didn’t tell me why you are so sad?”

“Because I feel like we… like we destroyed the friendship we had!” David shouted, only to hide his face in his hands in the end. “I like how things were before… before all of this happened! And now it feels like everything changed and I don’t want that.”

“What changed?” Gwen asked, this time creating a sad, melancholic note with her voice.

“Like… we don’t talk anymore… Before that we were conversing a lot on the phones and sometimes he would visit me at my house and we would sit and watch TV. Sometimes we talked, but sometimes just enjoyed not doing anything in particular.” David sighed, wrapping his palms around the cup once again. “He isn’t picking up his cousin anymore… but maybe because her parents have some free time nowadays.”

He took a hesitant sip. Then another. The hot sweetness was blocking all his senses with the sugar overdose and he loved it.

“So Max didn’t write to you?”

“No…”

“And you didn’t write to him either?”

“No?” But a smaller one, almost tentative.

“But you want to?”

“Kinda?”

“Then why don’t you do it?”

David blinked.

“Pardon?”

“Just write to him. It looks like you need some good heart to heart talk to… explain everything and clear every misunderstanding.” Gwen shrugged. “It’s simple as that.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Just write to him when I didn’t do it for two weeks?”

“The sooner the better.”

Could David do that? Could he simply write to him? But what if Max don’t reply back? What if he ignore it? What if he decided that he didn’t want anything to do with David anymore?

But David wanted it.  This normalness between them. The friendship they had. He loved every part of it and when it had been suddenly ripped away from his hands, he felt empty inside.

Even though it was kinda his fault.

“Okay, Gwen, you’re right, I’m going to–“

But in this very moment his phone vibrated, announcing a new message from Max.

So going back (in time) to Max ->

Max told Neil and Nikki everything. Of course, he didn’t spill how the night exactly had gone, but the day after he described quite thoroughly. Nikki and Neil listened intently, sometimes gasping and sometimes grimacing – like kids. Then he simply finished the story with how the last two weeks had gone.

“First of all…” Neil started. ”Congrats, I guess?”

“Gee thanks…” Max mumbled into the pillow that was covering his face. “Man, I fucked up.”

“No denying it.”

“Ughhhhh David will never talk with me again...”

“You don’t know that. Have you tried writing to him?”

“Multiple times.”

“But did you actually hit send?”

“… no…”

“Problem solved. You just need to message him.”

“But what should I say?”

“Erm, hey, what’s up?” Neil lifted his eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“Or better….” Niki finally pipped up. “We can go visit him! I never saw his house. It’s not fair that you are the only one who have seen it!”

“Oh, that is a good idea.” Neil nodded.

What the fuck? No, no, no, way! Nu-huh.

“No, no, no, no, no, we’re not going anywhere! Especially not to David!” Max shouted, glancing with growing fear at his friends who were already putting on their shoes. “Stop whatever you’re doing!”

Neil sighed.

“Listen, Max, you miss him, you like him, I would even say that you lo–“

“Stop right there!” Did he shriek? Oh yeah, he did.

“So you need to go there and see him. You were a mess for the last two weeks and yeah, maybe you two shouldn’t fuck, but it happened, so you can’t cry over spilt naphthalene.”

“Isn’t there milk in the saying?” Nikki asked, putting on a jacket.

“Whatever. The same thing. The point is, Max you need to start talking with him. Okay, yeah, maybe the relationship between you won’t be the same, but it doesn’t mean it will be worse. Bur right now you are making it worse. And if you want to change that, you need to get a grip on yourself and put on some damn shoes.”

Max stared at Neil, who was currently fully dressed, and was kicking Max’s shoes in his direction.

Unfortunately Neil was… right. Max was simply too scared, afraid that by talking he would make the situation between them worse. The situation was already bad, but he was making it worse by not messaging David. And Max wanted to do something with it. He missed David, his weird conversations, his stupid, warm smile, this whole aura that came with the man.

Max sighed.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Nikki shouted loud in excitement and quickly after they were out of the dorm.

Max rang the doorbell to David’s apartment, feeling like his heart could jump out of his chest. He waited for the familiar voice to resonate from the speaker, but… nothing happened. He rang then one more time.

“Maybe he’s not home?” Nikki proposed with deflated tone.

Max grimaced and tried to put on the most emotionless face he could muster. He knew he shouldn’t hope… but damn…

“Why don’t you message him where he is then?” Neil asked. “We’ve come so far.”

Max’s hand moved automatically to his pocket, but it froze midair. Should he? Maybe David didn’t want to see him? Maybe he won’t even respond? Maybe he was still mad at Max? Maybe they will never talk again? Maybe –

No, he needed to try. He wanted to try.

So before Max would change his mind, he took out his phone and sent a quick message to David.

Back to David (again) ->

where are you?

David stared and stared at the message like just by looking at it, it would give him more words (or more of anything actually), but nothing like this happened. It remained short.

“Who is that?’ Gwen asked.

“Max.”

“And what has he written?”

“He’s asking where I am…” David swallowed with fingers hovering above the reply button.

“Well, reply to him, duh. He deserve it.”

Gwen was right.

With heavily thumping heart, David slowly wrote a reply.

At Gwen’s.

David exhaled slowly his breathe through his lips, trying to calm his rapidly clenching chest and flipping stomach. He thought he more or less managed to do so, but he still jumped when his phone vibrated.

can i come over?

Then another vibration five seconds later.

nikki and neil are with me 2

Oh… oh…

“And what did he say?”

“He asked if he can come over together with Neil and Nikki…”

“I don’t mind.” Gwen said.

David looked up at her with wide eyes.

“I rarely get company here and I didn’t see them in a while. Plus, you need this. So what is better than a neutral ground?”

David looked down at his phone. He wanted to see Max, to check if he was alright, to see if what they had had been utterly destroyed or if there were ways of repairing it. But he was also terrified. Scared how it all could go, afraid that maybe… maybe…

No.

“Just do it!”

“Okay!” David croaked and then simply wrote a reply.

Sure you can.

They didn’t need to wait long for an answer.

address doofus xp

Oh, yeah, right. He wrote and sent it.

on our way

“So are they coming?”

“Yeah.”

Gwen stood up.

“Should I boil more water or move immediately to hard liquor?”

David shuddered.

“No, no alcohol for me. Especially in the middle of the week.”

“I know.” Gwen chuckled. “I’m just teasing you.”

David slumped down on the chair.

As they waited David nervously played with the hem of his sweater. Gwen after few minutes stood up and moved to boil the water one more time.

David was a nervous mess. He tapped his foot stressfully. Fingers fiddled with the material near his stomach and sleeves, pulling and crumpling it like crazy. He wanted it, but damn, he was so scared. What if this meeting turns sour? What if he says something wrong? What if Max says something wrong? Oh god, oh god, oh god –

“Relax David, everything is going to be alright. We’re gonna talk a little bit and that’s all.” Gwen reached and grabbed his one hand when he moved them to wrap around his cup. She squeezed it hard. “Everything is going to be alright.”

“Okay.” David nodded, inhaling deeply and exhaling loudly. “Okay…” He parroted himself, like he wanted to convince himself. “Okay…”

Another few minutes passed, before Gwen opened her mouth:

“Can I ask you one more question before they come?”

“Sure.”

“Do you… like Max?”

David blinked, feeling his breath hitching in his throat.

“I like him.” He said, because it was true.

“I mean… I mean more than a friend?”

David stared at Gwen, with mouth open and eyes resembling two full moons. The gears in his head moved, squeaked as his chest ruptured, sending wave after wave of clenching pain to his heart.

“I…” David swallowed hard. “I… don’t think I do…”

Gwen blinked. It looked like she was kinda taken aback by his answer, which also surprised David in the same time. Did she think he did?

“You don’t think you do?” She repeated, like she had hard time believing it.

David opened his mouth–

But at this very moment the doorbell rang, freeing him from having to answer the question.

His heart jumped to his throat when Gwen quickly moved to an intercom. She opened the door after a quick exchange.

“They’re here.”

Oh no, David wasn’t prepared for that. Should, should he stand up and move to the door or like welcome them with a handshake or something like that? Should he hug them or maybe that will be too much!? Or maybe if he don’t do it…

“Gweeeeen!” Oh it was Nikki, throwing herself on the female and spinning around. Even though she was still smaller, she lifted the taller girl without a problem and almost spun her around.

“Nikki, put me down!”

After her entered Neil, politely taking off his shoes and welcoming Gwen with a handshake and then…

Max.

David felt like he could faint any second now. Max didn’t change a bit, but well how much could he change during two weeks actually? But if David had to be honest, he would say that Max looked… tired – with ashy bags under his eyes.

And their eyes crossed immediately and David felt a thumping loudly and painfully sensation in his chest.

But the connection was quickly broken as Nikki threw herself on his neck and hugged like she would die tomorrow. He stood up and reciprocated the hug (even though it felt like she could break his neck) and then shook hands with Neil.

He lifted his face at Max who only… waved at him from the other side of the table.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Max.”

Awkward.

Gwen walked inside.

“Sit wherever you want. I’ll make something to drink. Why do you all want?”

“Tea?” Neil asked.

“Wine!!!” Nikki shouted.

“Coffee.” Max added.

“Okay. What? Okay.”

“Come on, Gwen. I know you have wine there somewhere! Give it to me.”

“But only one lamp!”

“Ugh, fine!”

Neil together with Max sat on the opposite side of the table and Nikki moved to the chair next to David’s one.

David felt that Max was observing him. He could feel his cunning eyes on himself, and even though he was very happy that the male looked more or less okay, he still was stressed. More so when Max was staring at him so intently.

David slowly cleared his throat, wriggling the hem of his shirt as he finally looked up.

“How are you… doing?” Oh my gosh, it sounded lame.

Max blinked.

“I’m fine.” He murmured. “How about you?”

‘I’m… okay too.”

“Well, he will be if he get a full night sleep.” Gwen said, entering the living room with two cups which she put in front of Max and Neil.

“Gwen!”

“What? It’s true!” She snorted, going back to the kitchen to get back with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Now Max eyed him curiously. Great. And David still had problems with looking him in the eyes.

Because how could he?

Nikki still grabbed the topic like it was a lifeline.

“You’re not sleeping well David?” She asked.

“No, Nikki, I’m sleeping fine.“ David quickly said and then immediately felt guilt after lying. “Well maybe I have some problems with falling asleep, but well I always had.”

Oh no, Max was still staring, now even more intently. He needed to change the topic, fast.

“And you don’t feel tired in the morning?”

“Erm sometimes? But it’s way better than how Gwen looks whenever she spends the whole night watching Netflix.”

“Hey! You know that I –“

Phew… managed to dodge that one.

After that the conversation slowly started to move smoothly – jumping from one topic to another. Of course Gwen, Neil and Nikki talked freely, but for Max and David it took some time to feel comfortable to talk without problems. But with every passing minute David felt calmer and more comfortable. Even Max few times cracked jokes at David, which he quickly shot back, what surprised everyone, but it felt good.

Max was stealing some glances from time to time at David.

Then Neil, Nikki and Gwen were so enamored by some conversation, shouting and laughing loudly, that they stopped paying them much attention

At this point Max was literally staring openly at David, so he finally looked at Max.

Max pointed at David, then moved his hand closer to his chest, made an o from it and after that moved the palm further away with fingers forming something that resembled… a letter k?

David blinked. It was a sign language:

Are you OK?

David felt something warm fluttering in his stomach with the sweet sensation moving to his limbs. There was an accelerated beat resonating in his ears as blood rushed to his cheeks.

David smiled hesitantly and then signed back – first pointing at himself and then flattening left hand to make a kinda wavy movement with the other, with fingers pointing at Max.

I’m alright.

Max stared at it and then nodded – more to himself, like he was searching in his head for the translation of the sign. Then the corners of his lips twitched in a small, hesitant smile.

David pointed at Max.

And you?

Max lifted his hand and lowered it, eyebrows furrowing for a second, before the forehead smoothened out. Max pointed at himself, then positioned his hand perpendicularly to his chest and waved it.

I’m fine.

David grinned at Max, feeling his chest untying. Max smiled at him back – this typical half-smile he often had.

David finally felt a little lighter, a little better.

Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was a first step.

So I think that’s the end for now… it almost turned again into a full one-shot… XD Urghhhhhhh… anyway stay tuned for next parts… whenever they’ll come out!

I’m sorry but I’m not an expert in sign language. The signs are the result of me searching for them on Google xD. So there may be some mistakes!

[jemej3m]

Only - pt 3

Ok. Look. I’m still not sure if this was how i wanted to end it, but i decided enough was enough. its been, what, months?? 

i have not been doing so great, and writing has been difficult, but excuses excuses: here’s the highly anticipated end of Only (feel welcome to tell me what did and didn’t live up to your expectations)

~

There was something to be said about a fear of heights.

Most, at the very least, felt some sort of vertigo when staring over an edge. Some felt something a little more potent.

Others lied.

And some. Well. Some saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

Andrew had been on so many more aeroplanes since that flight from California to Southern Carolina, but the sputtering engines and unsubtle swoops still froze him. He didn’t move for the entire flight back to Upstate Regional, wishing he could have his knives.

He should have driven.

It was strange to desire his knifes as much as he did: He hadn’t needed their presence for a long, long time, not when the gap was filled.

That gap had reappeared, torn at the edges and larger than ever before.

The flight touched down and Andrew’s head fell back, eyes shut, stomach threatening to turn itself inside out.

He bolted. It was hard to not seemed panicked: He wasn’t panicked, but he was cramped up, feeling like he was being tossed around on puppet strings. He fucking hated it.

Bee was waiting for him at arrivals, swathed in light like some avenging angel, and Andrew fucking hated it. He hated that the southern humidity and the sight of the only woman who’d given a damn made him feel a little more anchored. He’d given so much to Neil: It wouldn’t be long before this haven was torn away from him too.

He swallowed and swallowed and swallowed again. It didn’t do much to the cotton wad in his throat, and the constricting sensation of being swarmed by other bodies, despite there being no one remotely close to them at this ungodly hour of the morning.

Bee smiled warmly and offered her hands. He nodded: She placed them gently on his shoulders.

“Welcome back.” She said it like this place was home.

Palmetto hadn’t been anything but the place he’d met Neil: And then, the place he would go back to visit Neil. So now, it was technically nothing. You couldn’t go back to something that wasn’t yours anymore. Not even nostalgia could keep him company: He fucking hated this place.

She’d bought a new car and it still smelled fresh. It was stony silence on the drive, filled with the generic pop music that Bee enjoyed and Andrew didn’t loathe enough to bother changing it.

Andrew would like to say that he felt nothing, but he was impossibly angry. He was furious. It shook his hands and clenched his jaw and make his stomach tie itself in knots.

He pulled out his phone and stared at his blank screen. He’d run his battery dead over the past week, staring at the texts that he’d sent, wondering how it’d gone so wrong.

He knew Neil. He knew how it’d gone so wrong, but he was incapable of fixing it. They couldn’t attempt that over the phone. It was killing Andrew: He needed to know if they could come back from this. He needed an ultimatum more real than just go away. If he was going to lose his reason to live completely, he had to have some sort of closure.

Bee would have a heart attack if she knew what he was thinking.

Andrew had tethered himself to the world with a single thread, and made the mistake of assuming it was much thicker than it truly was.

And then he’d cut it.

~

“Neil!”

Dan crushed him, but not before hesitating for his confirmation.

It had been a while: She’d been an assistant coach in Maryland and a full-time coach over in Washington. Now she was in South Carolina, assistant coach of Matt’s professional team down in Augusta and slowly filling in for Wymack, learning how to handle the Foxes, one season and set of players at a time.

“Hello.” He said, voice weak with oxygen deprivation. Sucking in a gasp of air when she let him go, he smiled weakly. “Hi, Dan. Where’s Matt?”

“He’s inside: We’re expecting the takeout to get here any moment, and you weren’t meant to be here for another hour.”

“Roads were clear.” Neil shrugged. It’d been a long stretch of driving with merely him and his dangerous snare of a mind. The still unfamiliar hatred of being alone pressed that accelerator down for him. Dan grabbed the tiny suitcase from behind him and threw open the front door. “Babe, the takeout’s at the door, do you mind?”

“Coming!” There was a loud clutter and Dan winked at him, taking his suitcase down the hall. “Hey, when’s Neil getting here, honey?” When Dan snuck into the guest room on the left, he called out again as he rounded the corner. “Dan?”

And then:

“Neil!”

Neil gave Matt as flat of a look as possible before being engulfed in a lot of t-shirt and muscle, nearly knocking him over completely.

“Neil, Neil, Neil, buddy!” Matt gushed; star struck, awed, amazed. Neil was still confused as to why: It was just him, just plain old Neil. “You’re early! Fantastic! Dan, Neil’s already here!”

Dan walked out of Neil’s room with a flat look. “I let him in, Matt.”

Matt grinned. “Right.”

Neil sunk between worn cushions, red duck curry thrust into his hands and warmth wrapping around him in a soft cocoon. The off season was just beginning, and he had the two of them and Palmetto just around the corner to ground him. Maybe a visit to Betsy. An introduction to the newest Foxes, if he was here long enough to meet them when they arrived.

It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.

He wasn’t sure whether or not Andrew was the last or the only thing he wanted to talk about, and decided that Dan and Matt would dictate that choice for him. If they asked, he’d answer. If they didn’t, he wouldn’t say anything. It was like that for him, for most of the original Foxes. They would instigate and he would gladly continue, but starting something was where he was still finding trouble.

It was a familiar scene: A television playing a movie in the background, Dan gently coercing Neil into conversation over dinner, Matt popping in and cutting over and constantly swiping his thumb over the back of Dan’s knuckles where they were clasped together, but nothing more. They were trying to be subtle about a lack of close-ness, Neil could understand that much. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do about their carefulness: Seeing Dan with her legs draped over Matt’s lap wasn’t going to send him spiralling down into a ditch of depression. There wasn’t much further he could go, anyway.

The guest room’s bed was soft and comfortable. Neil stayed awake and stared at the ceiling all night anyway, unable to sleep peacefully when he knew there were terrors behind his eyelids and no one to shake him out of sleep when it got nasty.

Neil couldn’t sleep, so he agonised and analysed until he was rubbing his temples, attempting to calm the ache in his head.                                      

This wasn’t fine.

Neil wasn’t sure of what he could do. He’d always been fine. What was left of him now that he wasn’t?

His fingers drifted to his phone and gripped it in a tight fist, fighting off stinging eyes, lips rolled into his mouth.

Andrew, come back.

~

Breakfast was a quiet affair.

Neil ate blueberry pancakes that were too sweet and reminded him of exactly how Andrew liked his own.

Andrew didn’t eat, but had his coffee without milk or sugar. Wymack was smart enough not to comment.

Neither were asked about the other, but both were waiting for something to happen.

~

Neil sat, fingers tapping on his thigh for the entire ride up to Palmetto. This year, there were no Foxes who stayed back for the rest of the summer like the Monsters had. The court was, in Dan’s opinion, scarily quiet. She was going back for the morning to help Wymack finalise dorm rooms but mostly to take a trip down nostalgia lane with Neil.

He stared at the Tower on it’s grass knoll and did not look at the roof’s concrete ledge, because he knew he’d be looking for a tin tendril of smoke held between careful, calloused hands. He kept an eye out for the Foxhole Court’s looming orange arena. The sight of it didn’t bring him peace like it should have. It made him doubly as anxious.

“What’s the code now?” Neil asked, half in jest.

“Pretty sure it’s someone’s birthday.” Dan said, with a half-hearted shrug.

Neil’s eyebrow quirked. “Whose?”

She paused after keying it in and glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t remember.”

Neil’s chest constricted when he ran the numbers through his head, and said numbly, “That’s the twins’ birthday.”

She shrugged again. “We alternate. Coincidence that it was one of us O-Gs, huh?”

Neil thought coincidences were bullshit.

She shut the door behind them and shoved it closed to make sure it locked before looping her fingers around Neil’s wrist. The hallway was unlit and spookily dim, the only source of light from the small fogged window in the door.

“I’m sorry, Neil.”

“Please don’t be.” He mumbled.

“I know you probably think it’s stupid, but—“

“Dan, please don’t.”

She frowned. He started walking down the hallway but she refused to let it go.

“Neil, you’re not okay. Are you going to talk about this?”

“There’s not much I can do about it, Dan.” He murmured, pushing open the door to the foyer.

“There’s not much you can do about it, but there’s plenty you can do for you.” Dan insisted. “You know that, right? It’s not a be-all-end-all. It’s not the end of the line.”

“Dan, I’m demi.” He knew what it meant, now. He hadn’t quite believed there was a label for him until he’d seen it, thought about it, related to it. “It is the end of the line.”

She looked pained. “Maybe.”

He turned around. There was no reasoning with her.

“Neil?”

“Hey, Coach.”

Wymack’s hair was considerably more silver, his face considerably more etched in. He wondered how different he looked since his old coach had last seen him without the grate of an Exy helmet distorting his appearance.

“Neil, I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“He’s down with me for a little while.” Dan, back to cheery-as-ever. “Tagging along on the off-season.”

“Court could do with a little use whilst no one’s here.” He grit his teeth. “Dan, a moment.”

Neil waited by the door and let his eyes slide closed as there was a harsh murmur from behind Wymack’s hastily shut door. Dan reemerged five minutes later, jaw clenched.

“Everything okay?”

Dan snapped out of her reverie but didn’t smile. “Fine. I’m just going to work out some hiccups with the dorm rooms with Coach, did you want some time on the court?”

“I’m actually going to go for a walk.” Neil decided. “Around campus.”

“I’ll ring you when I’m heading back to Augustus.”

“Sure.”

~

Andrew’s day hadn’t started particularly remarkable, but having Wymack and Danielle Wilds storming in, hot on his old coach’s heels, was a slight turn in events.

“Fuck you.” Dan pointed her finger at him.

“Dan,” Wymack said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t.”

Dan stared at Andrew with her nostrils flared, breathing raggedly in a way that lifted up her shoulders. Her eyes slowly slid shut, but her jaw and fists remained clenched tight.

“I already told you that he doesn’t know, Dan. Leave it.”

Andrew felt it like a hot knife, leaving him cut and feverish and aching. He had no clue what Danielle Wilds was angry about, and for the first time, he cared. Whatever it was between them, Andrew was excluded, and he was excluded for a reason.

Andrew was sick of being kicked out and cast aside. Looked over and abandoned. Neil had been the first to see him, to truly read past a facade—

Andrew stood off the couch and shouldered his way around the Foxes’ coaches, his nonchalance effortlessly convincing through practise. “Have fun.”

Just before Andrew closed the door, Dan let out a soft “It’s like they never happened.” and—

Well.

Andrew was not okay.

~

It happened in a series of painful coincidences. Andrew sitting on the roof of the Fox Tower until he didn’t want to anymore, and Neil sitting up in the stands, filling time by counting the rows of white and orange like he used to. They just missed each other as one went to exactly where the other was before.

Neil didn’t walk up to the edge of the roof, leaning against the door with his hand resting against the handle like the summer warmth could be residual heat from Andrew’s hands, despite thinking that Andrew hadn’t been up here for years.

Andrew broke into the inner court with old keys and sat within the goalkeepers’ box, eyes closing and seeing the original team standing in front of him, the goal lit up red, and the striker who’d scored turning around with hair just as red as the goal and triumphant eyes just as bright.

They’d only missed each other walking too and from because Neil went around the long way, winding through campus to take up his time.

Dan did not mention finding Andrew on the court to Neil, and Betsy didn’t mention Neil’s brief visit to Reddin Centre when saying hello to Andrew.

Lucky, perhaps, that the confrontation was postponed to the next day, because it was raining.

A light drizzle. Neil caught his ride to Palmetto State with Dan once again, but this time Matt tagged along.

“How often are you up here?” Neil curled his arm around his knee, propping up the heel on the leather seats of Dan’s new car.

“Not usually. But it’s off-season—hooray!” Matt grinned, nudging Neil’s shoulder lightly. “Good timing, Neil. If only campus was a little more lively: We could have hit all our best nap spots and terrorised our old professors. Or the baby Foxes. Hell, maybe we’d have time for both.”

“I’m afraid it’s just me and Wymack.” Dan piped up. “So nothing too rowdy, babe.”

Neil was dressed in his running clothes, but it was only lightly drizzling outside. Acutely ignoring the grey clouds, he bid the couple farewell. Matt thought he was crazy, but didn’t stop him. He’d have sandwiches for lunch if Neil came back on time.

And there we was, running. Again. In a less metaphorical sense, this time. But he could still feel that strange, wound-up anxiety in his chest that eased ever so slightly, the longer his legs stretched as he ran, the more blurred his surroundings became.

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have ignored those black clouds. He barely noticed when the blurriness of his surroundings was the rainfall, and he only paused when he tilted his head up to breathe in, but was soaked through to the skin.

He was fucking shivering, he realised, now that he’d stopped running. For fuck’s sake. He tucked his hands into his sleeves and flipped up the hood to his thin, breathable running jacket, and started walking.

There were still cars on the road, but as the whole sky darkened and rain thickened, they seemed to lessen to almost none. A crack of thunder concealed the skid of tires as a car turned onto the road Neil walked along, and as it raced down, water sprayed up from the gutters. Rainfall Neil could deal with, but not buckets of muddy gutter water. Neil stood still, looking down at himself in unattached disdain, only to see the car who’d splashed him having pulled up and parked.

Someone got out and slammed the car door shut loud enough that you could hear it over the rain and another crack of thunder: Neil wiped his face and flicked the water off his hands (Though that did absolutely nothing) to see the figure approaching him.

Blond and five-foot even, he wasn’t much of a physical presence. If you didn’t know him, Andrew Minyard wasn’t much of a metaphysical presence either. To Neil, it was like every one of his nerve endings had caught on fire.

Andrew tugged down Neil’s hood, like Neil’s wet, red hair was the indicator of who he was, rather than the scars on his cheeks or the blue of his eyes. He was squinting at Neil, though it was probably just the rain.

Neil didn’t know why he let himself be tugged along, Andrew’s hand gripping Neil’s arm and the other yanking open the back door of the car and pushing Neil inside.

Neil looked at his shaking hands when Andrew got back into the driver’s seat, putting it back into drive and shooting off, like he hadn’t just picked Neil off the side of the road.

He didn’t even look at Neil.

You were right.

Anger—that was anger. Pulsating through his veins.

But it was— it had to be—grief. Grief that was pulling tighter on the rope around Neil’s neck.

Andrew had the heaters blasting, which did little for Neil’s shivering. Neil alternated between staring at the headrest in front of him—who’s car was this?—and his hands. His stomach knotted over and over, every time they took a turn. They were getting closer and closer to Palmetto State: Where would they stop? Would Andrew just kick him out? Would he say anything to Neil at all?

They pulled up to a stop outside the Foxhole Court, and Andrew hadn’t even looked at him.

Fine.

Neil shoved the door open and stumbled out into the oncoming rain. The car’s engine didn’t start up, even after Neil shut the door but he refused to turn around. Andrew doesn’t care. Andrew never cared. Andrew won’t care, even if you kick up a fuss.

Neil’s back pocket buzzed.

from: Andrew // 08:46am 13/4

roof y/n

His throat constricted.

Andrew said he couldn’t ‘do this’ over text, and yet here they were, and Andrew still wouldn’t look him in the eye and breathe a word in his direction.

to: Andrew // 08:49 - sent

will you even say anything if i go? have you suddenly gone mute? you haven't even looked at me.

The car door opened, and Neil clutched his phone to his chest.

“Yes or no, Neil.”

The clap of thunder was awfully theatric, and the flash of lightning illuminated everything, for only a moment.

He looked over his shoulder, still refusing to turn around. “When it clears up.”

He walked away.

~

“Neil,” Matt shook him by the shoulders. Neil was still gripping his phone, nauseous with shock, emptiness slowly gnawing at his stomach. A strange hollowness. “Neil, for god’s sake, you had your phone with you! Why didn’t you reply?”

“I was running.” Neil mumbled. “I wasn’t checking my phone.”

“Neil.” Dan urged. “Running? In this weather?”

“I’m fine.” Neil insisted.

“You take off five years from my life expectancy every time you say that.” Matt’s hand was resting on Neil’s head.

“You’d be dead.” Dan remarked.

“Let me dry off and change out, and then we can run some drills.” Neil ducked out of Matt’s gentle reach. “It was just some rain.”

“Some? You can barely see out there!”

Neil ran them up the court until they stopped complaining about Neil’s recklessness and started complaining about Neil’s obsession with the sport, despite all three of their careers centred around it. It was only Neil’s career that his life depended on, though, and they knew that. They also knew Neil was most comfortable in familiarity, and he was most familiar with their gentle jostling and their slight overbearing care, where they pushed at boundaries enough to get him to pay attention but not enough to make him uncomfortable.

“I was thinking of going to see Wymack later.” Neil towelled his washed hair, walking back out into the mailroom where Dan had been waiting for him an Matt. “Maybe we could all go have dinner at Abby’s.”

They looked at each other, like there was something Neil was missing.

Oh, Neil felt like an idiot when he realised. Andrew will be with Wymack.

Of course, they didn’t know that Neil knew that Andrew was here. Neil looked from Matt to Dan, and wondered if they would ever confess.

“I’ll call him.” Dan said, which was neither here nor there.

They don’t want to hurt me, Neil reminded himself. They don’t want to make me upset.

Neil followed them outside, sullen.

“It’s cleared up.” Matt commented, holding a palm out and inspecting it not a moment later. “You can always rely on South Carolina to dry everything out as soon as it can.”

Yes or no, Neil.

When it clears up.

Neil looked up at the blue sky, and marvelled at how it contrasted so awfully with the sick, tumbling feeling in his stomach.

“Lunch?”

Neil was moving in robotics: He didn’t want to dash off, because where would he go? What excuse would they believe? He hated lying to them, but until this rocking feeling stopped making him nauseous, until this confrontation was resolved and past him, he didn’t want to say anything.

Neil was sitting on top of a hastily constructed building of support: The Foxes were his family, were the walls and windows and doors and expansive gardens. Andrew had kept it from crumbling. Andrew was the foundations.

Neil didn’t want to fall down: He was terrified of it. How much worse could this get? How much lower could he fall?

Lunch was subdued but Neil felt watched, unwelcome eyes roaming over the landscape of his skin. Neil hated feeling like he was being watched. Paranoia was a sickly familiar smoke that he inhaled, making him thick-headed and heavy. He was meant to be safe. He was meant to be safe.

“Neil,” Matt put his hand over where Neil’s had yet to pick up his knife, despite his lunch being set down in front of him 6 minutes ago. “How are the antidepressants going?”

Sometimes Neil forgot he told Matt most things. He lifted his head from where it’d been resting in his palm and said: “They’re going okay.”

“Have you noticed a difference?”

“I trialled two different kinds but…” Neil flapped his hand. “They all do the same thing. They’re going fine, I think.”

“You talked to Betsy?”

“Yesterday, actually.”

“Good.” Matt smiled.

Neil almost smiled back.

Dan gazed off, pretending to not be intrigued about this rare exchange of information that Neil didn’t share with just anyone. They finished lunch slowly, and Neil payed as Dan and Matt helped the waiter clean up. He followed them out the door, looking at the puddles disappearing on the ground, and the clouds disappearing over the horizon.

His time was up.

He veered off the path, fingers gripping awfully tight at the strap of his bag as he said over his shoulder: “Text me when to get to Abby’s.”

“Where are you going?”

“Fresh air.”

“But you—“

Matt tugged Dan away. Neil closed his eyes only for a moment: He forced himself to pull them open to stare at his feet, taking one step after another.

He was walking along the edge of campus. He walked past the Foxhole Court, and two lecture halls, and an empty sorority, his old route on Perimeter Road. He stared at the Fox Tower like it was something with an ugly, heavy presence, but that was just Neil’s subconscious, curling itself into a cowardly ball to hide from whatever awaited Neil at the top of the stairs.

Neil climbed the stairs. Jostled the door open. Slowly stepped out.

“Took your time.”

Neil paused just before slamming the door shut and chose to shut it as quietly as he could, before turning around. He crouched down and pressed his fingertips into the small puddle on the concrete and watched rainwater slide down into his palms.

He stood up. “I said when it cleared up.”

“Theatrical.” Andrew scoffed.

“Should I come back in two hours?” Neil offered, looking at him. “Would that be enough time for you decide whether or not you’re going to be fucking prick or not?”

“Stop it.” Andrew turned around: He’d been looking out over the roof: Now he looked up at Neil with golden-hazel eyes, and permanently-etched in shadows under his eyes, and a hint of desperation but not much else. “Spit it out, instead of talking in circles.”

“Spit what out?” Neil clenched his hands into fists. He almost reached out to grasp Andrew’s face between his hands, but he remembered: No. I don’t trust him anymore. Wait.

“Your decision, your ultimatum, your latest argument with Kevin: I don’t care, Neil.” Andrew took a step closer. “Just—don’t leave me with nothing.” Everyone’s left me with nothing, He didn’t say. You were the one who wasn’t meant to leave.

“I haven’t spoken to Kevin in two months.” Neil muttered through his teeth. Every muscle in his body was wound like a spring, pulled taut like a rope.

“You are apt at ignoring calls.” Andrew decided. “I almost expected something to happen whilst I was gone.”

Whilst I was gone.

“Are you back?”

Neil watched the swallow work down Andrew’s throat, the unsteady inhale that was held in as he said: “If you would like me to be.”

None of this made sense. There should have been an apology: Andrew should have been begging for Neil’s forgiveness. But he was standing here like he expected Neil to say yes, like nothing had happened and nothing had changed as a result.

But he reminded himself: Andrew had already apologised. He’d already sung please like a prayer, crossing his own boundaries like he’d crossed his own wrists in a desperate urge to communicate to Neil how important this was to him. Despite both of them hating that word, despite both of them knowing that they each hated it as much as the other did: He’d still used it, and it echoed around Neil’s head and conjured up a strange feeling on his skin, like thin knife-blades dancing across vulnerable skin, digging in just hard enough to leave a mark but not hard enough to break the skin.

Slowly, Neil nodded.

Andrew let go of the breath he’d been holding and reached out to slide his hand to tangle his fingers in the hair at the nape of Neil’s neck, but he stood out of Andrew’s reach when he felt sick. “No.”

Andrew flinched, ever so slightly, but it was enough for Neil so see. Wariness. Confusion. Andrew hadn’t realised what had changed.

“Neil?” Andrew murmured. It was a silent why? that Neil didn’t need to be asked out loud.

“You need—” Neil looked at him. “You need to give me time.”

Andrew’s lips thinned as he rolled them into his mouth.

“You can’t expect me to just trust you implicitly, instantly.”

Andrew took a step back, and nodded.

This was all on Neil’s terms now. When this had started, Neil had been tip-toeing around grey zones, wondering where was safe and what he could say. Now it was reversed: Neither of them were good at functioning as normal human beings did, but it was Andrew who needed to be conscious of what he said, what he did.

Neil didn’t want apologies, he realised. He didn’t need Andrew to beg him for forgiveness. He just needed to trust Andrew, and to know that Andrew trusted him. It never came quickly.

Neil walked to the edge of the roof and looked over it, then out over the Palmetto State campus.

Andrew had been the catalyst of how living changed for Neil. He was no longer fighting to be alive, no longer living just to survive. Now he was living for a life he wanted. And in this life, he wanted Andrew.

“I can hear you thinking from back here.”

Neil looked back at him, and then brushed his fingers over the concrete ledge in front of him. “Won’t you join me?”

“Things have changed, Neil.” Andrew’s head fell to the side, and he was looking at Neil like that. “I don’t need to sit on the edge of a roof to feel something.”

“I want to go to Eden’s.” Neil knotted his fingers together, wringing them out like damp towels. He let Andrew pull his hands apart, but Andrew immediately dropped his hands instead of holding his wrists, like they used to.

“Retracing your steps?” To anyone, this was impassive. Andrew was a brick wall yielding no information, no emotion. Neil saw the inquisition in his eyes and the curious raise to his eyebrows, and the slight pucker of apprehension to his lips.

“Something like that.”

Andrew followed Neil down the steps.

~

They went the following evening, on a Monday. Eden’s was less of a club this early in the week, and more of a bar to men and women after work. They came in jeans and dress-shirts and did not stand out in that regard, just two men walking into a bar. But after years, many of the staff had moved on, and they were no longer treated like VIPs

Andrew didn’t know what he—himself and Neil alike—was doing, and he didn’t like it. Neil never voluntarily came here for a good time: He went because Andrew went, but Andrew watched him approach the bar and sit on an empty stool, fingers brushing gently over the one next to him as a gesture for Andrew to sit down.

Andrew didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t know what Neil wanted, and he didn’t know what to say, what to do. He still felt like he needed to apologise, to explain himself, but that wasn’t what Neil wanted. For the first time, he didn’t know what Neil wanted, and he felt lost.

“Roland’s moved on, I think.” Neil commented, looking up and down the bar.

Andrew didn’t want to correct him by saying he hadn’t, because they’d still remained in touch via text, and that probably wasn't something to bring up when Andrew felt like he was treading on this ice. He rested his head in his hand and waited for Roland to come out of the kitchen. He watched Neil’s reaction for when he did, wondering if this was a test.

“Hey,” Roland blanched. “What are you two doing here?”

“Catching up.” Neil shook out his curls and Andrew’s stomach rolled.

Roland looked between them. “With me, or each other?”

Neil gave him a stone-cold look, and Andrew stared at the shelves behind the bar.

Two rum-and-cokes were settled down in front of them, and Andrew stared at his, eyes clouded over with thought. What did Neil want from him, by doing this? Did he want Andrew to let his guard down? Was this a test of how much Andrew trusted Neil, or how much Neil trusted him?

Turns out, the correct answer was none of them. When Andrew finally came to himself, another drink was being pushed in front of Neil, and he barely hesitated to look at Andrew before throwing it back. Andrew reached out to take it from him after he put it down. “Neil?”

“Mm?” He looked at Andrew blearily.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m in a bar. What else—“ He coughed. “Would I be doing?”

“Why are you getting—“

“Because I can.” Neil pointed right in his face, like he was throwing an accusation. “Because I don’t trust myself to shitface—to get shitfaced—around anyone else, but you were the reason I wanted to, but I couldn’t, because you were there. Weren’t.” Neil corrected.

“Christ, Neil.”

“I hate you.” Neil spat, head falling forward. Andrew kept very still as Neil’s head rested on Andrew’s shoulder, thinking we truly have reversed positions, haven’t we.

“You have every right to.” Andrew carefully placed his hand on Neil’s shoulder to keep him steady, sitting on the rickety barstool that he was. The scarring on his shoulder was familiar under his fingers, despite a dress shirt separating them, and Andrew relaxed.

Neil breathed out and Andrew felt it on his collarbone.

“You are not falling asleep here.”

“Two seconds.” Neil murmured.

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Enough.” Neil mumbled the word against the skin of Andrew’s neck, and Andrew swallowed.

“I think it’s time to go.”

Neil didn’t say anything.

Andrew waved Roland over, who eyed Neil with trepidation. Andrew took out his wallet from his back pocket and threw it at Roland, but Roland threw it right back with a timid smile.

“Drinks are on the house.” He said. “Take care of him, Andrew.”

Andrew thought he had been, but now he knew that it hadn’t been enough.

Andrew slipped Neil off the barstool. Neil was barely walking, half-asleep and all of his weight pulling against the arm Andrew had around Neil’s waist. Andrew settled him carefully in Bee’s car and shut the door.

Neil made a soft sound as they drove, and Andrew’s throat was tight. How did I almost lose him?

His phone was ringing.

“What.”

“Where are you?” He heard Wymack tapping his fingers on a wooden surface, most likely his desk. The old man would be sitting, lounging back with his foot crossed over his ankle, books and papers scattered absolutely everywhere, but just enough space for him to rest his elbow along the parallel edge of the desk. He was the only father figure Andrew had ever known. Andrew knew every one of his affectations and could construct this perfect image without a qualm.

“Driving.”

“When are you coming back?”

“Now. I’ll be there in an hour. Who’s there?”

“Abby’s going to head back soon. She can give Betsy a lift.”

“I’m coming, Bee can take her own car.”

“Okay, Andrew.”

There was an awful, prolonged silence, and it weighed like bricks on his chest.

“Andrew.”

Andrew said nothing.

“They can’t find Neil.”

Andrew briefly looked at Neil where he’d curled up. “Who’s they?”

“Dan and Matt. He was staying with them in Augustus.”

“Tell them he’s fine.”

Wymack paused. “Is he with you?”

“Tell them to go home.”

A pause.

“Alright.”

The line went dead, and Neil sighed softly. Andrew’s head leaned back to rest against the headrest, his swallow working it’s way down his throat. It’ll be okay. Bee’s voice of reason soothed his frazzled nerves and relaxed his death-grip on the steering wheel.

He listened to the soft rhythm of Neil’s breathing for the rest of the drive and concentrated on pushing the whittling sneer of his conscience far enough away that he couldn’t hear it.

~

David heard the awkward fumbling with the door handle and the jingle of keys, so he walked out into the living room where Andrew was just shouldering his way into his apartment, with Betsy’s keys in one hand and—

Neil. Neil, being carried in his arms. Andrew had positioned Neil’s head to rest on his shoulder, forehead pressed into the side of Andrew’s neck, rested both of Neil’s arms in his lap, and held onto him securely.

They were both dressed nicely, and neither had any visible bruising or blood. Andrew slowly eased Neil onto David’s couch and then turned around, looking away. Betsy stood up from the dining table to approach him, taking the keys out of Andrew’s offering palm and whispering something in Andrew’s ear. The door shut behind her, and Wymack slowly approached the couch.

“Is he alright?”

“He drank too much.” Andrew sat precariously, right on the edge of the couch and giving Neil as much space as he could. Andrew looked up at David, and David had never seen Andrew at ease like this.

“Are you two alright?”

“He needs time.”

That was—that was neither here nor there. “A loss of trust?”

Andrew shrugged, and gently—ever so gently—moved a curl away from Neil’s forehead. Then, he sunk down onto the floor next to the couch and took Neil’s hand, fingers dusting over the scars like he’d memorised their pattern, closing his eyes.

That was more than enough for David, who assumed Andrew would sort himself out and moved into the bedroom, raising his phone to his ear.

“He’s here, Dan.”

She let out an exhale of relief. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. They’re fine, I think.”

“Who, Andrew and him? He was with Andrew?”

“Mm.” Wymack turned back to hint a smile at the closed door.

“Well.” Dan said, sounding confused. “Remind him to give us a call when he wants to come get his things.”

“I will. Goodnight, Dan.”

“Night.”

[inactivedaddymemeyard]

We Can Be Soft

Andreil and their daily lives. Fun ensues as always. Some of my HCs and some HCs from Tumblr. This has no plot or timeline please forgive me.

Ao3: here

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. When did it become so consistent and overwhelming? He would’ve stuck harder to his initial “No” that day when Andrew gave him this present, which now that Neil thought about it honestly seemed a life time ago. So much had happened so many truly awful things had come and went and here he was throwing a mental tantrum because Andrew was sexually texting him at the most inconvenient times.

           The first day that Andrew started this war on Neil’s peace of mind Neil had followed Nicky’s previous instructions on how to text someone you liked and sent back an orange heart, while he smiled to himself thinking about acting on the text the next time they found themselves alone.

To his disbelief and frustration Andrew quickly replied, “wtf was that? Do better next time. “

So started the most uncomfortable and tense weeks of Neil’s newly safe life. It soon escalated from every once in a while to multiple times a day and specifically when Neil was in class or talking to someone. Neil was living in a constant state of arousal and competitive irritation. If this continued at this intensity and consistency Neil was going to have to assign Andrew a specific vibration pattern and new ringtone before just the sound of his phone going off made Neil aroused. He’s honestly tried his best to not engage too much at first but he quickly realized that not only was Andrew playing with him but also Andrew was enjoying himself. Neil would gladly endure the tension in his lower abdomen and welcome Andrew attention even when it was riddled with mocking looks and jokes, he’d do anything to keep Andrew’s undivided attention, especially when he was being playful.

           That is how Neil found himself quietly approaching Matt’s door. He knew that there was ridicule, and potentially anger from both Minyards, waiting behind that door but he was just so tired of always being steps behind everyone else socially. Andrew had to teach him everything and while physically that was not only a good thing but was also a blessing; there was no eager grabbing or asking to try this or that Neil gladly let Andrew lead him and he saw the relief in Andrews body language enough to know there would be nothing to gain from researching how to be better in the bedroom, but this wasn’t about touching and heat this was verbal and he would run sexually worded circles around Andrew if he could.

           “Neil? What are you doing in the hallway looking like a kitten someone abandoned?” Nicky said from behind him.

           Neil dragged himself back to reality and the door he was still just looking at before answering, “I need Matt’s help.” The words that could potentially save his peace of mind or ruin it completely, either way something had to break and Neil was ready to take the steps needed to win.

“Oh Neil will you ever stop looking like that.” Nicky mumbled as he walked around him and unlocked the door.

Neil didn’t know what he was talking about but rather than take on that fight he wanted to tackle the battle he’d started the day ready to fight.

He stepped into his old room and his eyes immediately locked onto Matt’s back. “Matt I n-“ Neil stumbled not wanting to really ask for help.

It was enough that Matt tuned to look at him with curiosity written over every inch of the man’s body and face. When Neil still hadn’t opened his mouth Matt nodded to himself and got up.

“Never mind it’s fine. I’ll figure something out.” Neil realized his words meant nothing as Matt strode across the room and patted Neil’s shoulder before walking out.

Neil took that as a motion to follow the giant, so he followed him out to the hallway and down the stairs to the lobby of the dorm hall. Matt stopped and asked if it was private enough to talk, when Neil shook his head the upperclassman started for the door and unlocked his car.

After both men were seated in Matt’s vehicle Matt waited for Neil to speak. After several minutes passed Neil finally said

“I need help. Andrew is sending me sexual text messages and I don’t know how to respond.”

As soon as the word sexual escaped Neil’s mouth Matt released a giant breath of air in a short, startled laugh and visibly relaxed to listen to the rest of Neil’s sentence.

“Jeez man I thought you were in danger!” Matt managed to yell out before he started laughing.

Neil had not expected Matt to laugh and didn’t like that that was his first reaction so he reached for the door handle before Matt’s hand shot out to stop him.

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to laugh man, but after everything we’ve went through I was ready to talk battle strategy not sexting.” Matt managed to say without laughing but he still had a mirthful smile on his face.

“But we do need battle strategy. I’m losing and I hate it. I need your help to win.” Neil said knowing Matt was the only one he’d be okay with asking for help in this matter.

Matt laughed again before calming down enough to say, “Of course it’s a fucking battle with Minyard” and shaking his head.

Neil didn’t understand that part, he assumed normal couples “sexted”, as Matt had put it, but did they not try to see who was better at it? How is sending a text and not getting an equal or better response worth it? He didn’t care much what other couples did he cared about making Andrew content and safe and if sexting did that then he’d be the best sexter there ever was.

“I want to be good at sending them. Can you help me? What do you say to Dan?” Matt smiled again barely restraining himself from laughing again before responding to Neil’s questions.

“I can help you, but you can’t say the same things I say, Andrew doesn’t have boobs.” Matt had chuckled through the last couple words but Neil heard them just fine.

“Of course Andrew doesn’t have boobs. He’s a man. Here if you read his you might be able to help me beat him.” Neil suggested handing his phone to Matt.

Matt began quickly skimming the messages between Neil and Andrew and choked out, “Jesus do you guys never talk about normal stuff?” When he saw Neil’s confused expression and his slight tilt of his head Matt shook his head and remembered that this was Neil and Andrew of course they didn’t text about daily things.

Neil leaned back and watched Matt as he searched through the messages occasionally lifting his eyebrows in shock or approval, Neil couldn’t tell. Neil had warred with himself all day about whether or not asking Matt for help would be beneficial enough that it’s be worth the consequences and finally he was starting to feel safer about it. Matt made a few comments here and there mainly pointing out reoccurring actions Andrew had sent and said that meant it was probably something Andrew himself liked. Neil listened carefully and took mental notes, content to sit with Matt and plot his victory. It had been almost an hour since Neil had gotten off the couch, carefully removing Andrew’s feet from his lap and had marched to Matt’s door and he was feel so much better about everything that he jumped a little when his phone vibrated earning a whine from Matt about how far up he had scrolled. Neil looked at Matt waiting for the older man to read the message but he just quickly handed it to Neil and got out of the car.

Neil hopped out as well and was following Matt inside when he opened the message from Andrew expecting it to be another inappropriately timed text, but all it said was Why have you been sitting in his car this long. Neil’s heart raced at the thought that Andrew had figured out his plan so he quickly snapped the phone closed and raced up the stairs to the roof where Andrew was waiting with two lit cigarettes.

Neil accepted his quietly and sat on the ledge with Andrew content to be silently together for as long as he could manage. Andrew was looking at his face as if waiting for an answer to his earlier assertion, but knew he would receive none willingly so he said, “Did I interrupt something?”

Neil nodded and turned to look at Andrew. He took in the sight before him slowly and gratefully before resting his gaze on Andrew’s hazel eyes and giving him a small smile.

“I hate when you do that.” Was all Andrew said before moving his eyes back to campus.

Normally Neil would’ve sent a quick witty response his way, but he was feel too content, from gaining an ally and mentor in his struggles and from seeing Andrew with the sunset lighting his back red and turning the ends of his hair orange, to say anything so he just smiled again and laid on back on the ledge watching the clouds and smelling Andrew’s cigarette.

Next Chapter