Archive of Our Own ^beta

Since they had a few free weeks until the games began, and they weren’t really obligated to practice until the more rigorous practices started, Andrew decided he would just stay home. Of course, Neil usually tried to make him come with, and usually, he did, but on that particular day Andrew just couldn’t be bothered enough to get out of bed early and go to court. So he spent his day alone with the cats, mostly watching true crime documentaries, and cleaning the house when he got bored of that. Shortly before Neil was to come home, he went down to the corner market, since the only sugary thing they had in the cupboards was actual sugar and he was craving something stupidly sweet. Andrew came home with two bags of marshmallows and a dozen other candy bars and chocolate that he would have to hide before Neil could throw them away.

When he heard the front door being unlocked, signaling that Neil was home, Andrew was halfway done with one of the bags and had a few marshmallows inside his mouth. He knew he looked stupid, but if Neil decided to comment, he’d rip him apart.

“You’re a toddler,” Neil murmured around a smile, voice laced with equal measures of fondness and exhaustion.

Andrew didn’t acknowledge Neil’s entry until he heard his voice, turning his head to get a good look at him. What Andrew wasn’t expecting, though, was for Neil to come home with his face a mess of purplish tones and green and blue, all the ugly colors that shouldn’t stain him anymore. They were under his left eye, above his right clavicle and all over the backs of his hands, peppering his knuckles like a mean kiss. It didn’t come as surprise, of course, Neil Josten’s big mouth often got him into more trouble than not, Andrew didn’t even try to guess what happened. During the day his thoughts would sometimes drift to Neil, practicing by himself without Andrew there to have his back. He had made a promise to let Neil go, but it was hard not thinking about taking it back when he saw what happened to the striker when he wasn’t around. If Andrew had been there maybe he wouldn’t have gotten hurt, maybe he wouldn’t have come home looking like a walking disaster. It was truly tiring having to worry about him like that. Andrew observed him through a heavy-lidded stare until he opened his mouth.

The words that came out of Neil’s mouth were promptly ignored, because as soon as Andrew got a glimpse of his face, he strode over to him, almost too fast. He was in front of him, cornering Neil against the door, in a split second, eyes trailing over the damage done to him, inspecting with his always-present cold harshness. “And you’re stupid,” he eventually answered with a chilled tone that carried a strong hint of rage, raising his hand to hover over Neil’s new bruises. “Who did this?” it was more a demand than a question, a need to know, and he said the words as he turned Neil’s face around, no softness in his touch. He swore he would destroy whoever did this, whoever touched him.

Neil gritted his teeth and allowed Andrew the examination. "News?” he fired back, bright blue eyes stubbornly glued to the wall behind Andrew’s shoulder. it didn’t sound like a question. Andrew had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at that. Eventually, his stare abruptly landed on Andrew, and they locked eyes through the silence.

After getting a good look at his face, Andrew let Neil go and took a step back, too angry to stay so close to Neil. His eyes slowly but surely made his way across his body, trying to see if he’d been injured anywhere else, but he was mostly covered and if Neil sported any other bruises, he gave no obvious sign of that.

Ever so perceptive, Andrew noticed Neil’s shoulders sag, but he was still as tense as ever, awaiting a response.

“Corey,” Neil finally blurted out.

When he heard who was responsible, Andrew’s fists immediately clenched at his side, the only visible expression of his rage. Andrew imagined what it’d be to take Corey apart, that bastard had always gotten on his nerves, but he’d never, not up until that point at least, done anything to completely harness Andrew’s unbridled hatred. His arms were uncovered, and he hadn’t carried his knives around in years, but in that moment he felt the itch of the blade against his skin, like they were there, begging to be used against anyone who as much as dared to look at Neil sideways.

“Remind me to never let you go to practice alone again,” Andrew said after a few silent seconds, that could’ve been minutes, but keeping time, when they were safe in their shared apartment, wasn’t much of a priority anymore. He didn’t need an answer. Finally, tired of just staring Neil down, Andrew made his way back to the kitchen to clean up. “By the way, is this going to be a reoccurring thing?” Andrew didn’t ask what made Corey punch Neil, leaving it up to him if he’d say so or not. But he sure as hell wanted to know if Neil had been able to get back at him. Nonetheless, he decided against asking.

“No? I don’t know. I don’t want it to be.” Neil answered as he followed Andrew after a few seconds. “He has four broken ribs. I slashed his face with my nails.” was his reply to the silent question in Andrew’s mind, as if he could read it. And maybe he could.

The tension in Andrew’s muscles screamed in a thousand different tongues when he heard what he had done to Corey, for a second he didn’t care, because for a second he knew that was something he could leave for later, what he needed to know was if Neil’s face was the only thing that had been damaged. But verbal assurance from Neil wouldn’t do him any good, he needed to see if he was okay, yet before he could ask, Neil’s words finally hit him. The realization of what they meant was slow at first, and it wasn’t the words exactly that got to him, but the way he said them. Nevertheless, soon enough Andrew’s dissipating rage retreated, causing his blood to boil once more. His anger wasn’t directed at Neil, no, in that moment the one thing he hated more than Corey was the people who turned Nathaniel into what Neil hid deep within himself. Andrew was the only one in that house supposed to be capable of cruelty. The fact that what he could do to Corey was worse than what Neil actually did didn’t help much, but it was something to think about. Nathaniel may have resurfaced for a second when Andrew wasn’t around, but within those walls, it was only Neil.

Neil, Neil, Neil.

Nathaniel was dead, no matter what had or hadn’t happened at practice. Usually, those reassurances were left for Neil when he had a panic attack, but Andrew needed Neil echoing in his mind until he himself was absolutely sure the butcher’s son was gone for good.

Andrew didn’t answer, now he had a reason to go to practice even if he didn’t really need to. He wouldn’t let it happen again, and if Corey had even an ounce of self-preservation in his body he wouldn’t dare get close to them again. Andrew would have to be right at Neil’s back until he knew Corey wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, or else he would have to learn a hard lesson the hard way. The thought of quitting exy had been on Andrew’s mind that morning, but now he’d have to rethink it, not trusting enough to leave Neil alone with any team. This lack of trust went in every direction, he didn’t trust Neil to not get himself into trouble, and he didn’t trust anyone around them, knowing all too well how there was always a bigot with a chip on their shoulder who would love to pick a fight with them.

Sometimes it seemed like either most people didn’t care much about their own well-being, or they simply, stupidly and erroneously, underestimated Andrew Minyard.

At last, Andrew put all those thoughts aside and put the marshmallows in the cupboard, leaning against the sink when he finished. Andrew’s hazel eyes were now fixed on Neil, taking him in like he hadn’t just seen him, trying to look at him with new, calmer eyes. “Where else are you hurt?” he needed to know now, now it was time to care about his injuries and take care of them if needed, dinner and other necessities could be left for later.

Even though it wasn’t exactly needed, Neil had placed himself at a safe distance in the opposite corner of the kitchen. He got a bit closer after hearing Andrew’s question and lifted his sweater, wincing through the pain as he exposed the bruise on his side, about twenty centimeters of ugly blue fading at the edges. To Andrew, it looked like a mean jab from Corey’s elbow, but he couldn’t be sure, not without having seen the fight.

“My left arm is going take a while to heal, but nothing’s broken. I checked,” he paused, "A split knuckle. No cuts, no concussion.”

The face staring back at him was unmistakably Neil’s, Nathaniel was gone, Nathaniel was left behind in Baltimore. Andrew would not let Nathaniel resurface ever again. He carefully examined the bruises on his side, and when he was sure he’d heal easily, his eyes darted back to those piercing blue eyes that frequently haunted his dreams. Even if he still looked like the butcher, the scars and the expression he wore were Neil’s, and only Neil’s. Satisfied with what he heard from the striker, who had been hurt enough times to know what was a bad injury and what wasn’t, Andrew decided to trust him with this and didn’t inspect him any closer. “You’re not going to practice tomorrow,” was his response. Neil needed to heal fast, and getting checked against walls and trying to throw balls into goals would only make him worse. Andrew did not need Neil with more injuries than he already had.

Neil didn’t give him a verbal confirmation, and Andrew knew Neil wanted to go to practice, that maybe he had some stupid exy-obsessed reason to go, but he didn’t care, Kevin wasn’t there to make their life hell for skipping practice and Andrew would not allow Neil to get in worse shape than he already was. At least Neil knew better than to argue with him about it, apparently, all Neil needed to grow a bit more common sense and self-preservation was a few years and a different team. Now he didn’t have the foxes entire, albeit small, line-up at his back, and Andrew was secretly glad he learned to live apart from them. Slip-ups occurred, but of course Andrew’s idiot boyfriend wasn’t perfect.

After a few moment’s of silence, the striker opened his mouth. “I’m sorry.” Neil’s stance changed, composing a shift so small no one other than Andrew would have been able to notice. “You don’t have to do anything about this.”

“Shut up.” They both knew apologies meant nothing, at least not to Andrew, they were just stupid words thrown around, and it wasn’t like Neil actually had anything to be sorry for. If Neil really felt guilty about something, if he needed to apologize to someone, that someone was himself. He knew what he meant by it, though, but didn’t need it. Andrew knew Nathaniel was gone, Neil was home, Neil stayed, that was enough.

Andrew was tired of talking about Neil’s ignorance, having had enough of it to last a lifetime, even though he knew he’d only get more and more of it as time passed. How Neil had become his sole reason to fight for something, Andrew didn’t know. What they needed now was a distraction, they needed Corey, Nathaniel and all the blood, gore and bruises far away from their minds for as long as possible.

“I need to do something about dinner. But I don’t feel like cooking and you can’t cook for shit. Call the Chinese place, or don’t, we have marshmallows. It’s your choice,” Andrew said before making his way to the couch, he still had a few more minutes of the documentary to watch and he knew Neil would soon be on his heels. He was obviously ignoring the last words that came out of Neil’s mouth, he had nothing to say about that, and they both knew that if ever something needed to be done, Andrew would do it. Corey had one chance now, and if he threw that away, he would feel a wrath upon him unlike any he’d ever seen before.

“Depends. If I say marshmallows, are you gonna share?” Smart mouth. Not even the cruel exhaustion weighing down his body was powerful enough to stop it. “Didn’t look like you were willing to before.” Andrew could practically hear his smirk, and was, in his own strange way, glad he couldn’t see it.

Andrew rolled his eyes at the mention of marshmallows, his marshmallows, but was almost surprised that Neil wasn’t condemning him for it, and instead wanting some too. Maybe they could indeed have a good night. “I thought I told you to shut up,” he answered while sitting on the couch, remote control already in hand so he could unpause the film. “There are two bags in the cupboard, the closed one is mine.”

"You did.” he conceded, lips curved in a way that made his small, private smile resemble a hook. “I might need some incentive.“ Andrew knew exactly what he meant, it was something that had already passed through his mind in those last few minutes, but they both knew Neil wasn’t in good enough shape for anything other than a few soft — as soft as possible for two boys with molten iron flowing through their veins — kisses.

“Needy,” Andrew fired back.

“News.”

The way Neil answered made Andrew relax a little, it was something so typical of him to say, an answer so predictable, Andrew had to stifle a smile. It was a weird, yet comforting, feeling to not need to constantly have his walls up. He still had his pride, so not everything changed. But he’d gotten so used to be around and with Neil this way, casually, talking, touching, that he couldn’t anymore say he didn’t like the feeling — that would be a lie. However, it still mystified him, how this boy became something so good in his life. Andrew was still healing, still in the process of figuring out feelings and emotions that weren’t all bad, he was learning that there wasn’t anything wrong with being okay. Yet he still needed some time to step away from the edge that kept him in an almost constant fight mode and to accept that he had space within him for positive sentiment. At least now, after so many years, the fear of falling had dissipated, after all, with Neil he’d fallen long ago. And it was okay.

Andrew could hear Neil going into the kitchen to retrieve the marshmallows. And as he waited, he unpaused the film and returned to the sideways position he’d taken on the couch earlier that day, but now he had his legs tucked in so Neil could fit on the other half of the couch.

His eyes were focused on some detective or psychologist, he wasn’t really paying attention, talking about Ted Bundy, one of the many psychopaths he’d learned about in college. The Foxes you used to like to compare him to men like that, to psychopaths, as if they knew what a true psychopath was, as if they knew him in any way. Andrew wasn’t psychotic, but those for years of criminology unintentionally got him interested in that. His mind drifted back to the considerations he was making that morning, about leaving the team, about pursuing something else. He shook them away when he felt Neil settling down on the couch, and silently welcomed the slight contact that Neil’s toes provided, nestled under Andrew’s thigh.

The feeling of Neil’s body against his after spending the whole day apart, even if just slightly, just the touch of his toes on his thighs, sent a modest and almost imperceptible tingling sensation through his legs. It felt nice (he would never admit that, of course), but it bothered him nonetheless. Even after all the years together, Andrew still couldn’t believe how someone like Neil could do this, whatever it was he was feeling, to him. And in all honesty, it was annoying.

"If you grab the other bag I’m letting the cats eat your donuts. Your choice.” his words got Andrew’s attention, who turned abruptly to look at him and at the bag in his hands — half-full, no sight of the other one. At that, Neil received a prompt scolding from Andrew’s dark stare.

Good thing he’d thought about hiding the rest of the sweets he bought somewhere Neil couldn’t reach, well, he couldn’t either, not without a stool, but Neil didn’t know they were there. “I didn’t know I lived with Kevin Day,” Andrew huffed, crossing his arms a little awkwardly since one of them was buried in the couch, but still managing to look perfectly annoyed.

Neil stayed silent for a minute, and Andrew wondered if he’d been able to shut him up. He was soon corrected as Neil let out a slow, drowsy brand of teasing, vowels and eyes so soft anyone outside those walls would’ve found them strange on such a rifle of a boy. “If that’s the case, you’ve been saying the wrong name in bed for a while now."

Neil’s teasing coaxed Andrew into rolling his eyes for the nth time since Neil got home that evening, and the words that came out of his mouth made Andrew want to shut him up. His protective instincts, though, kicked in and told him not to, Neil was injured and needed to heal fast. “Neil,” he scolded, but in a way, it was an answer, asserting that indeed, Neil was the right name, that he wasn’t saying the wrong one.

The bag positioned on Neil’s chest wrinkled when he shoved his hand inside and dug around. His attention shifted to the screen. "Are psychopaths your source of entertainment when I’m not around?”

“They’re interesting,” he answered matter-of-factly. His eyes were stuck on the TV although he wasn’t paying much attention to what was now a simulation of the events the documentary was supposed to be recounting, and he didn’t need to, as he remembered learning about them in class.

“Pass me the marshmallows,” Andrew ordered, not taking his eyes off of the TV because he knew if he looked at Neil he wouldn’t be able to resist getting closer to him.

“Get them yourself.”

“You’re such a brat,” he deadpanned, not satisfied nor impressed by Neil’s response, but anyone who knew him enough could hear the slight whine of annoyance hiding behind his emotionless tone. Nonetheless, he twisted his body so that now he was kneeling in front of Neil, leaning over him and towards the bad of marshmallows. He did so only partly because of his desire for sugar, and mostly out of the need for proximity. He could’ve just grabbed the bag and gone back to his former position, but their bodies were close enough that Andrew wanted more, so he leaned in farther towards Neil. “Yes or no?” he asked, one arm on the couch’s headrest, and the other one hovering over Neil’s legs.