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He shows up in their life out of nowhere. One moment Andrew's on the balcony trying hard to convince himself that he doesn't want a cigarette, the next he’s returning and he’s there, at their table. Talking to Neil. Laughing at something Neil said. Leaning close to hear him better over the jazz band.
Andrew takes only a minute to assess the situation before passing by the bar to get himself a whiskey on the rocks and taking his seat at Neil’s side. He doesn’t need to announce himself. Neil turns to him like a planet returning to its orbit. Their eyes meet briefly and the corners of Neil's blue ones are a soft hello.
“You must be Andrew Minyard,” the man says, noticing Neil’s distraction.
Andrew shifts his eyes to the stranger. “I must be.”
The man smiles, as if Andrew has said something kind and welcoming, and stretches out a hand that Andrew shakes only out of the politeness his managers have drilled into him over the last few years.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he smiles. “I’m Ryan, Ryan Page."
Okay, James Bond, Andrew thinks sarcastically, but doesn't respond beyond retracting his hand and taking a small sip of his whiskey. Neil's smiling at Andrew like he finds him awfully amusing, but responds to Ryan when he restarts their conversation.
"Neil was just telling me about the Chicago offer you signed. Leaving Saint Louis so soon?"
"An opportunity came."
"I see. A step closer to the northeastern coast, the best place to be," Ryan smiles. Andrew thinks of Neil's apartment in Boston, chestnut flooring, white, fresh snow lining the streets outside the window, a warm bed and a kitten stumbling across his shins. He can't disagree, but it's none of Ryan Whoever's business. He gives him a small nod and looks away, scanning the crowd. Correctly understanding that he's been dismissed, Ryan turns back to Neil.
"So, about that racquet," he prompts.
He and Neil talk way too much about exy gear for the next quarter of an hour. Andrew's bored out of his mind, but not bored enough to leave Neil's side. They only have two days to spend together before Andrew flies west to start his training season with the Chicago Tigers. Sitting there, his knee a breath away from Neil's, feels like charging himself with enough Josten to last weeks.
"I'm going to get a refill," Ryan says, gesturing at his empty wine glass. "Would you like some?"
"Oh, I don't drink," Neil says, waving his hand.
"A coke then?"
"Not a fan of sweet drinks." Neil has an easy smile on his lips that won't quite leave his mouth. Out of the two of them, Neil’s probably the more social one, but Neil doesn’t like strangers this quickly. Or ever. Andrew takes a sip of his whiskey and shifts his gaze to Ryan.
"Water then?"
Neil nods, still smiling. "Water's fine."
"Ice? Lemon?"
Neil lets out a soft, flustered laugh and nods. "Yes, that sounds good. Thank you."
Ryan gives him a quick wink and then looks over to Andrew. "I see you still have some left."
Andrew raises his drink, twirling it to demonstrate the volume, and Ryan gives him a quick thumbs up before leaving.
Once he's gone, Andrew meets Neil's eyes and raises a brow.
"He's nice, isn't he?" Neil grins. "I swear, it's like he had all those gear stats memorized. Kevin’s gonna be so jealous."
Jealous . Right. Andrew thinks of the weird feeling brewing in his chest and takes another sip.
"Didn't pay attention," he says.
"Of course not," Neil teases, kicking his shin softly under the table. He leans his chin in his hand and Andrew doesn't have to meet his eyes to know he's staring. There’s a finger poking at his leg which Andrew doesn't protest. Neil takes it as an invitation to squeeze Andrew’s hand resting atop his thigh, asking, "Want to go soon?"
"Desserts haven't been served yet."
"We can get you ice cream on our way home," Neil offers.
Andrew slides his gaze towards him.
Home . They're staying at a hotel for the night, but they both know home has become less of a location for either of them. Andrew can feel at home sitting right here, Neil's hand over his.
"What about your new friend?"
"What friend?" Neil grins and even if he was already smiling earlier, something calms in Andrew's chest. The smile Neil gives him has always been different.
Ryan comes back and brilliantly ruins the moment. Neil's hand is slipping from Andrew’s and he's turning, accepting the iced water, a few slices of lemon thoughtfully pressed against the glass.
"So, I suddenly remembered that you must know Kevin Day?"
"I've had the displeasure to," Neil says, the corner of his mouth coming up in a charming twist to let Ryan know he's only joking. "We were on the same team."
"Right, of course, the famous Palmetto Foxes! Andrew, your family as well, right?" He looks at Andrew, but Andrew's not here to offer anything beyond the politeness he's expected to demonstrate. When he doesn't reply for long enough, Neil clears his throat and tells Ryan he's right.
They discuss the Foxes for a bit. Andrew catches information about Ryan's own past. He's from California, USC. That other blonde's team, Andrew thinks. Not that he can even pretend to not remember Jeremy's name. Andrew grew up in California so he'd never seen anything sunny and charming about it, but both Jeremy and Ryan are a little too much of that for comfort. Especially when one of them can't stop flirting with Neil.
If Neil notices, he doesn't show it. Andrew's not particularly worried, it's not the first or last time people will flirt with Neil, but usually Neil is completely oblivious and uninterested. He's definitely enjoying Ryan's company, though. He's engaging, keeping eye contact, continuing the conversation. Ryan's practically in the clouds that a pretty boy is giving him so much attention, not that he must have many issues with that on the regular.
Objectively, Ryan is perfect. He wears a buttoned shirt that is tight enough to leave little for the imagination. The first two buttons are undone, showing off a strong chest. He's well built, tall, sun kissed. His golden curls look far too soft to not be living off of tons of product, but whatever he's doing sure is working with the way they fall perfectly over his forehead, just a little over his eyes which are blue. Not Neil's ice blue, but a deeper, warm shade. He's charming alright.
Ryan's busy trying to stretch his and Neil's time, but eventually Andrew's stare on him becomes hard to ignore. He glances at him once, twice. Andrew's making him nervous, and, good . Neil and Andrew might not be public or overly territorial, but Andrew still doesn't very much like his drooling over his… yeah.
"Mr. Josten," a lady comes up to their table, finger pressing against the earbud in her ear. "Coach Loewen wants to see you for a moment."
Neil lets out a subtle sigh and looks at Andrew before excusing himself from Ryan. "I'll be back in a moment."
"No problem," Ryan says.
Andrew doesn't say anything and Neil leaves. He catches Ryan checking out Neil's ass before resting his eyes on the buffet table.
Think about the desserts, Andrew, not the untouched butter knife on the table that you wish was in Ryan’s throat.
"So, Andrew-"
"No," is all Andrew says and, miraculously, Ryan shuts up.
They sit in silence while Neil is gone. Ryan's texting on his phone, but seems overall unperturbed by Andrew's rudeness. Most people wouldn't tolerate being alone with Andrew. Why couldn’t Ryan be most people?
A few people stop by their table, Ryan no doubt catching their attention with his friendly sunshine aura. Andrew is saved by the waiters finally laying out the buffet with small brown cakes and other delicacies. He finishes off his glass and sets it down before making his way towards the desserts, ignoring Ryan’s goodbye.
He tries the chocolate cake first. When his spoon sinks into it, thick hot chocolate spills out of it like lava. Not bad. It's gone in three bites. Next are the lemon meringue pies, some nicely decorated cake pops, and the green tea ice cream. The green tea ice cream is a little too unsweet for him. He grabs an extra dish of it for Neil.
"Too many sweets, Minyard," Suzanne mutters as she passes by. She's eating a fruit salad, which is picture perfect for the Chicago Tigers' nutritionist. Andrew will be avoiding that one.
"I'm on vacation."
"Not for much longer."
"Long enough."
She laughs, but doesn't tell him to put the extra lava cake back. Small victories.
Andrew spots Neil on the other side of the room, at his coach's side with another person jotting something on a notepad. He settles at a high table, away from Ryan Whatever, forearms pressing against the edge as he slowly works through his second lava cake. It takes only a minute for Neil's eyes to find him, and Andrew taps his spoon on the table when they do. Tik. Tok.
Andrew watches Neil's mouth and, even from tables away can read his lips. Are we done here? His coach looks momentarily flustered, but the reporter laughs, expecting Neil’s attitude, no doubt wanting it for clicks on his article. The man nods and Neil shakes his and his coach's hand before making his way to Andrew.
"Hey," he says. "We going?" Andrew nods slowly, then pushes the ice cream towards Neil. "What's this?"
"Green tea."
"I probably won't like it," Neil warns, but still takes a mouthful with the spoon tucked into the half-melted serving. He licks his lips when he’s done and puts it back into the bowl. "Hm," he shrugs.
Andrew narrows his eyes. "Use words."
"I'll admit it's less sweet than that Ben & Jerry crap you like, but it's still sugar." Andrew mutters something not nice under his breath and Neil grins at him. "Just get me some strawberries next time."
"Get yourself the strawberries," Andrew tells him, waving his hand at him in dismissal.
"But you're the one bringing me dessert~" Neil leans close before pushing off the table and tapping his pockets. "Right, my phone’s in my jacket at our table. I'll meet you at the exit?" He doesn't wait for Andrew's reply before he turns and Andrew takes a moment to admire the fit of his dress pants before scraping the last of the chocolate off his plate and heading towards the exit. On his way, he piles some strawberries into a takeaway cup from the hot drink station. He's not being nice, he's only concerned that Neil can't stomach a single sweet thing even after all these years. Andrew’s not trying hard enough.
It takes Neil another two minutes to join him at the exit. He’s just pocketing his phone when he approaches, face blooming into a familiar beautiful smile when he notices the strawberries sticking out of the cup.
"For me?" He laughs when Andrew thrusts it at him and waits until they're in the dark parking lot to land a quick kiss at his temple and murmur, "Thanks, Andrew."
---
A whole month passes before Andrew’s on edge and frustrated, sick of empty apartments and lack of blue eyes first thing in the morning. He’s packing his bag when his phone rings on the kitchen counter. Dumping the half-folded shirt on top of the pile, he shuffles over to see who’s calling.
“Neil,” he says, answering and walking back to his bedroom.
“Andrew,” Neil replies, softer. “Practice might run late, but I should make it to the airport on time. I’ll text you.”
“Mmhmm,” his phone is pressed to his ear as he continues the packing. He’s going for three nights. Not much, but longer than expected mid-training season. Neil has a friendly in a few days, but Andrew doesn’t until the week after. There was a window of opportunity and Andrew took it.
"See you soon?" Neil prompts.
"Yes," Andrew replies and Neil hangs up first. Out of the window, the sky is gray and dull. It's mid-February now, and Boston is probably colder than Chicago. Andrew reaches for a spare sweater and puts on the one Neil forgot at his place last time. After a cup of coffee and more useless staring out of the window, Andrew is far too restless. He'd rather window shop at the airport than spend more time waiting.
The flight is only two hours. Two hours of Andrew gripping the armrest, sure, but years of casual flying have made him at least somewhat capable of handling airplanes. The family-sized bag of peanut M&Ms between his legs certainly helps. He tucks it into his carry on when they land and only takes fifteen minutes to get to arrivals. Neil's not there, but he's rarely on time. Andrew steps out to stand among the post-flight smokers and subdues his craving with a little second-hand smoke.
He tries to give Neil another five minutes, but seeing him is a pulsing need he's tired of being patient for.
"Andrew," Neil picks up on the first ring. "There was some traffic but I'm almost there."
"I'm outside."
"Alright," Andrew's chest tightens at the smile in Neil's voice.
"Coffee?"
"Actually, yes. That would be great."
Andrew hangs up and goes back inside to get Neil an Americano and a triangle sandwich. After hours of M&M eating, even Andrew has to acknowledge all the sugar settled heavily in his gut, so he gets a bottle of water for himself instead of his typical syrupy latte.
By the time he's outside again, Neil's Mustang is stopping by the sidewalk. It's a gorgeous, dark blue thing. Neil didn't give two shits about it when Andrew bought it for him with his first signing bonus, but Andrew has long learned not to judge Neil's worth by his awful taste. He just wanted for Neil to have a way to visit him comfortably in Atlanta. What’s the harm in arriving in style, Neil? Come on.
Neil reaches over to push the door open and Andrew pulls it open wider with his foot. He hands Neil his coffee, and Neil mutters a quiet thanks as Andrew settles in, throwing the duffel onto the backseat and closing his door. The seat is too far back, so Andrew tugs on the lever underneath to pull it closer and someone honks behind them.
Lifting his head, he finds Neil's eyes already on him. "Staring."
"Hi," Neil smiles and doesn't deny it. Andrew wants to kiss him, but now all attention is on their unmoving car. Neil seems to understand. He takes a small sip before placing the coffee in his cup holder and driving.
"How was the flight?"
"Quick."
"How many M&Ms did you eat?"
"Enough that I don't want any more sugar for the next hour."
"Monumental."
"Hmm." Andrew watches as the traffic light turns red and Neil slows to a stop. When he turns, Neil's already leaning towards him. The first kiss after a month hits different. Neil's lips are a little dry from the winter, but his fingers are warm where they brush against Andrew's cheek.
"Missed you," Neil murmurs.
Andrew rubs his thumb on the back of Neil’s neck and knows he doesn't need to tell Neil how much he feels the same. He gives him one more quick peck and then another one because the light isn't green yet. When he pulls away, Neil's hand drops, but it's not as disappointing when Andrew knows they're on their way home. He has three more days of this.
Neil's apartment is smaller than Andrew's. Two rooms and a spacious kitchen in one of the cozy townhouses off Newbury. Even with the 80% cut off his salary, Neil can comfortably afford it. He's got parking on the street and the stadium is within jogging distance. The interior is chic, but that’s only because Andrew found Neil sleeping on a mattress on the floor a week after he moved in and he refused to leave until they got all the furniture Neil desperately needed.
When Andrew arrives this time, a year and a half later, there are a few plants on the windowsill and a fox mug on the TV table. Neil's clothes are haphazardly thrown on the armchair and Andrew picks up about two pairs of socks on his way to the bathroom, throwing them into the hamper before using the toilet and washing his hands. Just as he’s rinsing his face, he hears a quiet meow and then something’s brushing against his shins.
Andrew crouches and scratches under King’s chin. Last time he saw him it was just after Christmas, almost two months ago. It’s only a little unfortunate that King’s already doubled in size.
"I didn't have time to clean," Neil apologizes, on his way to dumping their bags in the bedroom. He's in the kitchen by the time Andrew comes out, unwrapping the sandwich and offering Andrew a triangle. Andrew has to avoid tripping over King as he walks over.
"That was for the ride," Andrew says, but takes the offered piece anyway. "No home cooked dinner?"
"I can make us an omelet."
"I'm sure you can."
"I'm getting better at the more complicated stuff," Neil says through his chewing, watching as King laps at his water bowl. "Kevin makes me send him pictures of all my meals."
"Not your nutritionist?"
"I don’t need one,” Neil looks up at him. “I’m not the one addicted to sugar."
"Or maybe your team is too cheap."
Neil huffs a laugh. "Maybe they are." He wipes his hand off his trousers and Andrew makes a face. "What do you want to do tonight?"
"Nothing," Andrew mutters, taking a last bite. He realizes too late that Neil's smiling at him suggestively and Andrew rolls his eyes but doesn't deny it. "Let me shower first."
"I can shower with you."
"Is your shower big enough?"
"We aren't so big ourselves."
"Speak for yourself." Andrew grabs a kitchen towel and wipes his hands like a normal person. When he turns around, Neil's already next to him. His hand is out, palm up, and sliding his own fingers between his is the easiest thing to do.
---
He wakes up early the next morning. Neil is getting dressed as quietly as possible, but Andrew’s instincts still have a long way to go before even the smallest noise won’t startle him awake. Neil’s head pops out from under his collar and he meets Andrew’s eyes with a smile.
“Morning,” he whispers. “I’ll be quick.”
Andrew mutters something under his breath that has Neil lowering at his side and brushing hair out of his face.
“I’m back in three hours.”
“Hurry.”
“Don’t miss me too hard.”
“Your fridge has no food.”
“That’s a lie.”
“I’m not eating vegetables for breakfast.”
“I’ll bring you back something,” Neil promises. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” he murmurs against the pillow, already closing his eyes.
Neil gives him a quick kiss on his temple, then Andrew hears him get up. “See you later, sleepy head.”
The next time Andrew wakes up, it’s quiet and there’s a warm, purring lump pressed against his thigh. His phone on the bedside table tells him it’s just after eleven which means Neil should be back soon. There’s also a text from Aaron that says, can you at least tell me when you’re forging a doctor’s note in my name. your team medic called this morning to ask what kind of diarrhea you’re having.
Andrew huffs and ignores the text, leaving his phone on the bed before going to take a shower and brushing his teeth so Neil will kiss him on the mouth when he gets home.
Once he’s done, he makes himself an espresso with Neil’s fancy machine, adds some hot water and tops it off with the whipped cream Neil definitely bought just for him. He watches the news from the kitchen counter and notes that there’s an upcoming snow storm in the Wisconsin area. Maybe it’ll pass by Chicago and he can stay another day. Wow, Andrew’s embarrassing. He switches channels and finds a Friends rerun and lets it run in the background as he gets his phone from the bedroom.
He sits on the bed, scrolling through notifications, his other hand buried in King’s soft fur. It’s past twelve now and Neil’s not back yet. He must’ve left at seven in the morning, so it’s been five hours now, not three. Neil’s not much of a liar and usually he’d text. Andrew briefly reads Aaron’s follow up message, by the way i told them you're shitting green gross liquid and that your neighbors are complaining from the smell and noise. asshole. How fucking mature. How is Andrew even supposed to answer that?
He almost dials Neil’s number, but instead texts him a quick question mark. Then he thinks that might have been worse.
You’re up! I’ll be back soon. I bear gifts.
Hm. Andrew throws the phone aside again and brings King back to the couch to count the laughing tracks with him until Neil returns.
The door unlocks about twenty minutes later and then Neil’s putting pastry bags on the kitchen island.
“Morning,” his grin is a little apologetic, so at least he knows Andrew didn’t actually just wake up. Andrew doesn’t get up with King snoozing on his lap, and watches as Neil takes out some plates. “Sorry, we were looking over game stats for next week. Captain says the Bulls’ defense is heavy and we really need to score if we want a guaranteed place in the next round-”
Andrew tunes him out, much more interested in eyeing the chocolate deliciousness that Neil hands over to him before sitting at his side. It’s a pain au chocolat with white, milk, and dark chocolate drizzled over it. He presses it with the back of his finger and it’s still warm. Nice .
“You’re not listening, are you?” Neil asks, biting into an apple.
“Nope.”
“Oh well,” Neil runs a hand along King’s back. “Were you up long?”
“An hour or so.”
“I’m going to have to leave for training in the evening.”
“I know that.”
“Alright. Do you want to come?” Andrew only stares at him. “Right,” Neil laughs. “Stupid question.” His eyes are on King while Andrew eats slowly through the croissant. “You know, he never sits on my lap like that.”
“When’s the last time you stayed still for more than three minutes?”
Neil ignores that. “He likes you more. You should take him with you.”
Andrew all but clicks his tongue. “He likes you just fine.”
Neil shrugs, finishing off his apple in four huge bites before padding over to the kitchen to throw out the core and bring back some paper towels for Andrew.
They sit in silence for a bit. Neil’s head leans close to Andrew’s shoulder against the back of the couch as he watches the commercials on TV, letting Andrew eat. When Andrew has just a few bites left, Neil nudges him.
“Tell me something.”
“What’s to tell?”
“I don’t know. How are things going with your team?”
Andrew shrugs. He doesn’t give a shit about his team. He’s only there to make sure their striker lineup doesn’t improve until it’s signing season.
“How’s Aaron?” Neil asks.
“Complaining that I didn’t tell him the type of diarrhea I have.” Neil’s face twists in confusion. “I’m here on a doctor’s note.”
Neil’s mouth hangs open for a second. “You said they let you have a break?”
“Because of my explosive diarrhea.”
“Andrew.”
“Maybe not explosive, but that coconut tapioca from the other day didn’t do me any favors.”
Neil watches him for a long minute. “What about practice?”
“I’ll stand in the doorway and you can throw balls of socks at me if you think I’m getting rusty.”
Neil almost smiles at that. “You better win next week or I’m going to be so mad.”
“Oh no,” Andrew deadpans, biting into his pastry. There’s a warm dribble down his chin and Neil smiles, then sighs.
“I cannot believe you. You get to fake diarrhea and still be one of the best players in the country, but I need six hours of practice every day just to prove that I can be on the starting line up.”
“It’s not like you to be jealous.”
“As if,” Neil grins. “Being a goalie must be boring.”
“Finally, he understands."
Neil laughs, wiping the chocolate off Andrew’s chin, licking his thumb, and making a face at the sweetness.
“Rude.”
“All yours, sweetheart.”
“I wasn’t sharing.”
“Ha.”
“When’s practice?” Andrew asks.
“Four.”
“I’ll drive you. We can get dinner after.”
Neil’s momentary surprise is unexpected. “Sounds good. Do you know where?”
“Shouldn’t you be the one to show me where?”
“I don’t really go out on my own.”
“Hmm.”
“Kevin took me out to this one good place when he visited a few weeks ago, but I don’t think you’re going to be interested in it.”
“Probably vegan.” Neil snorts and Andrew has grown to like the pride he feels when he can get Neil to react with a laugh. “I’ll look something up.”
They spend the rest of the afternoon on the couch, between pretending to pay attention to what’s on the screen and making out when King finally climbs off Andrew’s lap to settle in a patch of sunlight in the corner of the room. For lunch, Neil makes them a salad with meal-prepped quinoa and Andrew looks at his bowl for a long time before taking his first bite. Around quarter to four, he takes Neil to practice and drives around Boston, stopping by a deserted beach, watching the sky turn purple-pink as he sucks on a strawberry lollipop he bought so he wouldn’t crave a cigarette so much. When it’s dark, he takes out his phone and scrolls around the Boston map, setting his sights on an all-day-breakfast restaurant in walking distance from Neil’s.
He returns to the stadium just as Neil walks out. He sees him immediately and jogs to the car.
“Hey. Did you go back home?”
“Drove around.”
“Find anything you like?”
Andrew doesn’t answer, driving the ten minutes home in light traffic.
“Staying in?”
“No,” Andrew replies, getting out. “Leave the bag,” he says when Neil reaches for it. Neil listens, hurrying after Andrew down the street.
“Don’t say you’re taking me to an ice cream place,” Neil whines when he catches up. Andrew doesn’t say anything and Neil groans. “I just had practice. I need to have protein, at least let me-”
“Quiet,” Andrew tells him and Neil narrows his eyes at him.
After a few minutes they’re stopping outside the restaurant and Andrew walks in, Neil in tow.
He talks with the hostess and gets them a table in the corner by the window. Neil sits across from him looking around before he reads through the menu and the tension leaks out of his shoulders when he finds a list of “healthy” options. Junkie.
A waitress stops by their table a few minutes later, looking very uncomfortable. With the way she can’t stop staring at Neil who’s still going over the menu options, finger dragging across the ingredients as he no doubt calculates the macronutrients in his mathematically-inclined brain, Andrew wonders if she recognizes them.
“French toast for me,” Andrew says. The sooner she's gone, the better. “Extra whipped cream and the fruit salad on a separate dish. I’ll have extra white chocolate drizzle as well. And hashbrowns.”
The waitress swallows and jots it all down. “And for you?” She asks Neil.
Neil’s mouth purses before he orders the chicken breast with steamed green beans and spinach. He doesn’t even look up as he orders, breaking the poor thing’s heart. Andrew orders them a green tea pot and waits for Neil to look up. When he does, Neil seems just fine with the order. Andrew passes over his menu to the waitress.
“That will be all.”
She nods, collecting their menus and runs off to send in their order.
“She must be a fan,” Andrew says. Neil finally looks in her direction, but she’s long gone.
“Really?”
“Maybe if you paid attention to the people around you.”
Neil frowns, then leans on his knuckles, cracking them with the pressure of his chin. He looks out the window for a moment and Andrew takes in the perfect angle of his profile and the way his hair curls around his ears. He must’ve cut it recently.
Neil glances at him, smirks when he catches him. “Staring.”
Andrew grunts something and nudges his shin softly under the table just as the waitress comes back and places two teacups and a steaming pot. Neil looks at her this time and she immediately flushes before disappearing back towards the kitchen.
“How flattering,” Neil mutters, opening the teapot lid and looking inside before closing it again and meeting Andrew’s eyes. “Did I tell you about Morris?”
Neil goes off on a tangent about the bulky misogynistic striker on his team who keeps tormenting their female goalie and starts reeking after the first ten minutes of practice. Andrew files away the names, though it's not like he doesn’t already have Neil's entire team memorized, and watches Neil’s mouth move around words he’s not really hearing. Neil complains about some other players as their food arrives, then about the dumb decisions his coaches are making. He’s starting striker on Wednesday, which he better be after three seasons on the team. Neil should be contracted for Court within the upcoming months anyway if the start of his season is good. Andrew isn’t worried, not that he particularly cares overall. His invite already came, but he knows he won’t be going without Neil. He also knows Neil wouldn’t forgive him if he found out that's why Andrew hadn't accepted yet.
“By the way, I’ve been playing with that racquet Ryan recommended to me. It’s so good, I seriously think it's easier to hit with. Can’t wait to use it in game.”
Andrew freezes, a bite of waffle with a generous mound of whipped cream on it halfway to his mouth.
“Ryan?” He repeats.
“The guy from the Winter Banquet last month. Remember? Jeremy’s former captain.” Andrew doesn’t answer because Neil should know better than to ask Andrew if he remembers. Neil cracks a smile as if he read that on his face. “He was in town last week and went to Exites with me.”
“Did he now,” Andrew says, finally taking the bite.
“Yeah, turns out he’s here often. New York’s only a few hours away and his dad lives in Cambridge.”
Andrew chews slowly. Neil starts cutting up his own food. He’s barely eaten any of it. Andrew can't blame him. It’s the most boring looking dinner ever.
“Isn’t he from California?” Andrew asks after Neil takes a bite.
“His mom is. His parents separated when he was in college,” Neil says between chewing.
Fascinating. And fucking convenient.
“You two close?” Andrew asks.
Neil shrugs, not looking up from his food. “I mean, sometimes we text about exy stuff.”
“Not Kevin?”
“Kevin can be so damn stuck up and bossy. At least I can have a normal conversation with Ryan.”
Andrew’s nod is slow as he cuts himself another piece, marinating on that thought. So, Neil’s choice for “normal conversation” is Ryan. Andrew doesn’t know how that sits with him, though he supposes his nearly constant silence is not very conducive to normal conversation.
When he lifts his eyes, Neil is watching him curiously.
“Exy talk bores you, Andrew,” Neil says. As unperceptive as Neil is about the rest of the world, to him, Andrew’s apparently an open book. Far too much so.
Andrew raises a brow. “Did I say that?”
“You didn’t need to,” Neil says, pointing with his fork. Then he twirls a piece of wilted spinach around his fork and eats the disgusting thing. After all these years, Andrew still can’t stand him. “Do you want to hear about my new racquet?” Andrew only stares at him and Neil huffs a laugh, cutting another piece of chicken. “Thought so.”
Andrew’s not gonna sit here pretending exy is an exciting conversation topic. Andrew doesn’t give a shit who Neil talks about exy with. Who he talks with at all. But he still can’t quite forget Ryan’s definite interest, how much Neil had engaged with him.
They both continue eating in silence. Neil predictably finishes first and Andrew pushes his fruit salad towards him. Neil bites his lip and thanks him with a small smile. Silly that Neil still thinks Andrew is doing this out of some hidden kindness of his heart. Andrew's only building Neil's sugar tolerance. With the way Neil actually dips a piece of strawberry into the leftover whipped cream on Andrew's plate, he thinks it must be working. Then he slowly sinks his teeth into the strawberry and Andrew decides it's time to go.
He licks his lips and Neil's foot rubs against his ankle. Andrew looks around the restaurant. Where's that damn waitress?
While handing them the bill, the girl actually is brave enough to tell Neil how big of a fan she is. He agrees to sign her little waiter notebook and when she asks Andrew for an autograph as well, he tells her he's Aaron which only makes her smile harder.
"I heard you say that a lot," she grins a little too smugly. When Andrew narrows his eyes, she apologizes and runs off. Neil leaves a twenty dollar tip and asks another waiter for a spare pen.
"Don't be an asshole," he tells Andrew, turning over the bill and tapping the blank space with the borrowed pen.
"Not be an asshole? I'm afraid we haven't met," Andrew says. "I'm Aaron."
"You're so funny," Neil grins. "Sign."
"What do I get in return?"
"A happy fan?"
"How exciting."
"Do I need to bribe you, Andrew?" Neil says quietly, pen under Andrew's chin just for a second, looking closely at him. "To sign a piece of paper? The sooner you sign, the sooner we go home. To bed. Together." He taps Andrew’s bottom lip, then the paper again. "Hurry up and sign."
Andrew narrows his eyes, but takes the pen out of his fingers and writes a quick, thanks - aaron. When he looks up, Neil's biting his lip, smiling.
"Let's go home," he says and Andrew follows.
It's about ten o’clock now, the neighborhood is touristy and therefore not very empty, but Neil leads them down a smaller street where the crowd is sparse and whispers, "Hand in your pocket, yes or no? " He waits for Andrew's nod before slipping his cold hand between Andrew's fingers.
"Starting to feel like hiding this isn't on your agenda anymore."
"We never really hid anything," Neil says. Despite his freezing hand, the breath that puffs against Andrew's cheek is warm. "Plus, she thinks you were Aaron."
"Sure."
"Let's discuss the more important thing, though," Neil says and Andrew waits. "You called us a 'this'." Andrew gives Neil an unimpressed look that Neil answers with a radiant grin. Andrew imagines trying to convince anyone in the world Neil can smile so big and so often. He doubts anyone would believe him. He kind of likes that only he gets to witness this.
This .
Andrew looks away and Neil squeezes his hand.
They kiss as soon as they're home, keep kissing between getting ready for bed and settling under the warmth of the duvet. Neil's hovering slightly over him, letting Andrew sink into the mattress, and after years and years this is undoubtedly his favorite bedtime routine.
"You’re not still mad are you?" Neil asks, kisses whispering down his jaw.
Andrew's fingers tighten around his nape and he pulls him into open mouthed kisses. “Was there something to be mad about?”
“That I don’t talk to you about exy.”
“It’s the most tolerable thing you’ve ever done for me,” Andrew mutters and Neil huffs a quiet laugh.
“I could if you wanted me to.”
“Did I make it sound like I do?”
“You made it sound like you don’t like me talking to Ryan.”
Andrew actually snorts at that. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t sound like anything.”
Neil watches him, licking his lips but bites back whatever he was going to say. “As long as you’re not mad.”
“To be mad means to care.”
“Right, but if it’s bothering you-”
“Nothing bothers me.”
Neil’s teeth are white in the moonlight, his smile soft. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
“So why are we having it again?”
Neil’s smile falls and he swallows. “I’m serious, Andrew.”
“I’m also serious, Neil,” Andrew parrots. “You can have friends outside of the Foxes. God knows you need some.”
Neil smiles, nudging him. “Speak for yourself.”
“I’m just fine.”
“You sound like a hypocrite. I know you’re all alone most of the time and you won’t even take King to keep you company.”
“Why do you think you don’t need King?”
“Kevin’s in Philly and comes in all the time. I have some people I hang out with on the team and there’s… well, there’s Ryan sometimes.”
“Aaron’s in Chicago. Renee is visiting next month and Robin is staying for a week over spring break. I still call Bee.” And you will move there in the summer.
“I know, and that’s great, but-”
“I’m fine as is,” Andrew tugs lightly on the hair of his nape. “You can believe me, because I’m not the one who misuses the word.”
Neil watches him for a long minute.
“Okay,” Neil drops it, his fingers trailing down the edge of Andrew’s jaw before he leans down to kiss him again.
"Over the waist,” Andrew mutters to let him know where it’s okay to touch him, Neil hums against his lips. His thumb runs along Andrew's cheek and then down his arm, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles there. Imagine telling Andrew six years ago he would ever enjoy being touched like he’s something delicate. This soaring feeling is more addicting than nicotine. Even more than sugar.
"You know I want this every day, right?” Neil whispers, meeting his eyes. His skills at reading Andrew’s mind only get better.
Andrew tugs his hand out of Neil's to pull him in again. Anything to keep Neil's mouth too busy to talk bullshit.
---
The Boston Lions play the Chicago Tigers on the 5th of March. To most of the country, it’s the most exciting game in the early season. To Andrew, it means Neil can stay the night before he has to fly to Boston the next day.
After not seeing him for a month, seeing Neil now, on the field, and not somewhere private is frustrating and that’s putting it lightly. As a goalie, Andrew’s at the end of the line during the greetings, but he doesn’t bother pretending to stare ahead. Diagonally from him, the Lions uniform is a deep red that darkens Neil’s hair into a beautiful auburn. Neil is looking back, lips in a half-smile. Andrew can already imagine how many people took a picture of his face, can envision the articles being written about rivalry and hatred. Andrew just wants to take him home.
Neil tries his best, but Andrew doesn’t let him score anything, not because he cares about winning but because Neil kisses him better when Andrew plays a good game. Andrew does let Morris score once, though, just so the Lions aren’t completely out of the tournament. Now, who said Andrew wasn’t nice?
They're divided into their changing rooms following the game and Andrew unbuckles his guards as the coach goes through their post game stats. He tells them they have the next day off and singles out Andrew to tell him he did a great job. Andrew picks that as his dismissal to head to the showers.
His car is in the private parking lot of the stadium. He sees some of his teammates leave and they wave, not really understanding why he's still standing there, but not familiar enough with him yet to come up and ask. Andrew's tired of meeting their eyes, so he sends Neil a quick text letting him know he's on minus one and watches the message turn read without a reply.
"Minyard!" Andrew lifts his head to see their captain, Thomas, approaching. "Some people are coming over for drinks, a tradition of sorts. You should join, my wife makes the best whiskey sours."
"I have plans," Andrew says and Thomas nods, disbelieving.
"You sure? You haven't come out with us at all yet and you’re the reason we won the game today, it would feel wrong to celebrate without you."
"I really don't care," Andrew says, watching the exit for the more interesting plans for his evening to arrive.
"Listen, Minyard," Thomas starts, a little more seriously. Andrew shifts his eyes to him. "You've been with the Tigers for two months now. I'm not one to make any obligatory team rules but you gotta show some team spirit or-"
The heavy stair door swings open behind them and Neil pauses, noticing Andrew's not alone. The sudden noise has Thomas looking over his shoulder and he also stills, then looks back at Andrew frowning.
"You said you were busy?"
"Very," Andrew agrees. He looks at Neil and jerks his head to beckon him over. Neil looks uncertain, but jogs towards them.
"Ah, well the tabloids make it seem like you hate each other. Didn't realize you're friends."
"We're not friends," Andrew says just as Neil slows, joining them.
"Alright..." Thomas looks between them and Andrew feels awkwardly seen. "I'm Thomas Kane," he introduces himself.
"The captain," Neil shakes his hand with a friendly smile. "Neil Josten."
"Yeah, I've heard a lot about you."
Neil glances at Andrew. "Really?"
"Well, not from Andrew, of course. But, you know, the media loves you."
Neil smiles awkwardly. "Right."
"So, you're Andrew's plans tonight?" Thomas asks and Neil looks at Andrew again, not sure how to tread here.
"I guess?"
"Catching up, I see," Thomas nods, looking back at Andrew. "Alright, well I won't keep you two apart. I would tell you to bring Neil, but I don't want Neil to feel uncomfortable about his loss."
Neil scoffs. "Andrew's the only reason you won today. You barely scored on us."
"Maybe so," Thomas laughs. "A win's still a win."
"Well, enjoy it while it lasts," Neil's smile is sharp. "Let's see who’s still standing in May."
Andrew is unimpressed by the exchange, but at least Thomas seems a little amused. It'll be better to have Neil on his good side come summer.
"It was nice meeting you," Thomas shakes Neil's hand again, then pats Andrew's shoulder which has Neil tensing at his side. "See you Sunday, Minyard."
Andrew salutes him, then unlocks his car for Neil to throw in his bag, followed by his own.
"You let them touch you?" Neil asks after they're sitting inside and Andrew's starting the car.
"I can handle a pat on the shoulder."
"He should still ask."
Andrew looks at Neil watching Thomas climb into his pick up truck on the other side of the parking lot like any second now and he'll run after him to give him a piece of his mind.
"Hold your horses, Josten. I meant what I said," Andrew repeats and Neil meets his eyes finally and relaxes.
"Just making sure."
Andrew suppresses a sigh.
"What was he inviting you to?" Neil asks, changing subjects.
"Team party at his house."
"You wanna go?" Neil asks.
Andrew gives him a look, then starts driving out of his spot. "Very funny."
"Team bonding is important."
"No doubt," Andrew says without feeling. Neil's only there until tomorrow evening. Andrew doesn't care if Thomas's wife makes whiskey sours out of gold.
"Our team gets together for barbecues or we go to a pub... I've been there so long."
No shit, Andrew thinks.
"You played so well, by the way," Neil says and Andrew doesn't have to look at him to know he's smiling. "You let Morris score, though. Kevin's gonna kill you."
"He can try."
"I'm serious, though. I swear those were some of my best shots ever and you just hit them away,” his fingers run along the back of Andrew’s hand before he pulls away. “You're so good when you put your mind to it and I know you were only trying so hard to tease me.”
Andrew swallows. With Thomas being there, there was no kiss hello and Andrew feels Neil's stare on his profile like a magnet pulling him closer. Why the fuck are all the lights turning green today?
"Did it work?" He asks, trying hard to sound casual.
Neil laughs. "Yes. Asshole. I want to kiss you so bad right now."
Andrew glances at him, then back onto the road. The place he's renting now is right by Lincoln Park, just twenty minutes from the stadium. He's been looking at nicer places and even some houses, but he's not going to buy anything until Neil moves in. Twenty minutes , Andrew repeats, fifteen now . He can wait fifteen minutes. But does he want to?
A light finally turns red on a small street about halfway home, and Andrew finds Neil already looking at him impatiently.
"Hi," he grins, and Andrew pulls him in for a long kiss hello instead of replying.
"Why do you live so far from the stadium?" Neil asks when Andrew leans away before the light can turn red again.
"It's not far," Andrew mutters, leaving his hand in Neil's for the last five minutes home.
Even after they’re parked, they stay in the car, making out a little too desperately when Andrew's bed is a few floors up. Neil peppers kisses down his throat and it's probably too open-mouthed for the comfort of his teammates on Sunday. Even if something deep and possessive in Andrew craves Neil’s brand, he doesn't know how he feels about entering the changing room with a hickey so he grunts Neil's name and Neil kisses down his clothed shoulder instead.
"I want all of this off," Neil mumbles into his jaw and Andrew nudges him away.
"Out."
Andrew's the one who grabs their bags and Neil uses his keys to let them out of the parking lot. Andrew’s building looks old from the outside, but it’s considerably modernized. He calls the elevator and Neil frowns at him because Andrew lives on the fourth floor which is a walk in the park for a freak like Neil who itches to put his legs to good use at all times. Andrew's just played a full game, though, so Neil can suck it.
Great. Now Andrew's thinking about Neil sucking.
Andrew meets Neil's eyes and Neil smiles like he knows exactly what’s on Andrew’s mind.
"Shut up," Andrew says and Neil kisses him as the elevator arrives.
Andrew's place is a humble thing. Spacious kitchen and living room, and two bedrooms. Considering his six figure earnings, it's far under his budget, but Andrew has other things he'd rather spend money on.
As soon as the door closes, Neil's mouth is on his and Andrew drops their bags in the entrance, letting Neil lead them towards the bedroom.
"I know you played like that on purpose," Neil mutters into his lips. "Asshole. I'm glad you didn't let me score. Though, if any of my balls are gonna be slapped away, I'd rather it be by you."
"Speaking of..." Andrew mutters and Neil laughs, falling onto the bed. Andrew leans on his forearms over him, hands wrapped gently around his neck as he continues re-exploring his mouth. It feels too good to be back here, so good to have Neil in his home, in his bed, in his arms. Four more months and he could have this every day. For years and years. For someone who didn't see anything in his future six years ago, to have this desire so strong and true is overwhelming. Neil's fingers run along Andrew's cheek and into his overgrown hair and Andrew hopes Neil feels the same.
Something buzzes between their hips. Andrew's hands tighten and Neil moans.
"Whoever that was, keep going," Neil jokes with a lazy smile. As if on queue, more texts come in staccato. "Oh god," Neil gasps, and lets out a small groan.
"Tell Kevin to fuck off," Andrew growls, reaching for the phone in Neil's front pocket.
“I already did," Neil kisses wherever he can reach Andrew-neck, between his clavicles, one quick nibble on his chin. "Wow, I liked that, though,” he grins, eyes closed. “We need to invest in something that vibrates that isn't caused by Kevin. Immediately."
Andrew huffs and checks Neil's phone. He stills. The person texting Neil was definitely not Kevin.
"Did you tell him to fuck off?" Neil asks, peppering his chin and neck with kisses, but Andrew's still staring at the screen.
hope youre not too hard on yourself
your shots were all amazing
minyards impossible to score on when he puts his mind to it
but that shot at min 39? breathtaking
your pass to morris was also amazing
if he starts gloating again remind him that's the only reason he scored at all
lol
by the way, check out the chili i made
[PHOTO ATTACHMENT]
200 grams of protein
i can bring you some tomorrow
Interesting. That's a little closer than he assumed Neil and Ryan were.
"Andrewww," Neil whines, pushing his hips up pointedly. "Where'd you go?"
Neil's erection is solid against Andrew's thigh, but Andrew doesn't know how he feels now that he knows who helped his dick harden.
"Not Kevin," Andrew says.
Neil groans, trying to guide Andrew's face down towards him. "I don't actually care who it is, Andrew. Just get rid of the phone and kiss me already."
Andrew gives Neil's phone one last glance, then throws it off to the side. It hits the wall with a slam and if it cracked, good.
---
When Andrew wakes up the next morning, Neil's still in bed. He checks the time on the clock at his bedside and it's just after ten. Neil didn't even go on his jog in the morning. What is the point of Andrew living right by the park?
Andrew lays there for a minute, then gets bored, reaching for his jeans on the floor. He pulls out his own phone and briefly runs through his texts.
Letting Morris score was incredibly immature of you.
Thanks, Kevin. Andrew will ignore that.
His other messages are from Robin with her flight details for next week and Aaron asking if they're still on for lunch. He sends Robin a thumbs up, then reminds Aaron that Neil stayed over.
tell him he stinks, Aaron sends.
As if on queue, Neil stirs next to him. Then groans. "I think you killed me."
"That's what you call it?"
Neil stretches, then lets his arm flop onto Andrew's stomach. "I'm never walking again."
"You didn't jog this morning."
"I don't think my legs can work."
Yeah, well, maybe Andrew went too far last night. Not that Neil was complaining. That'll teach Ryans or Whomevers to get his boyfriend hard. The thought comes and goes easily, but something heavy settles in Andrew’s chest.
"Aaron says you stink," Andrew says, just so he doesn’t have to think about the b-word and how seamlessly it entered his vocabulary.
Neil laughs against his shoulder, then rises on his elbow. "Do I?" He asks and, sure enough, he does. Andrew scrunches his nose and Neil laughs, kissing his cheek, before rolling off the bed. Andrew swallows, watching Neil move around the bedroom. Neil looks so good naked in the morning light. Andrew could have this every day soon. He thinks he could be reminded of it every minute of the day and the desire for it would still zing up his spine every time.
Neil pulls on a pair of Andrew's boxer briefs and looks out the window.
"Should I still go?"
"Whatever you want."
Neil looks over his shoulder then back out the window, humming. He considers it for a minute before crouching to pick up his phone and going into the bathroom.
If Andrew was relaxed a moment ago, he isn't as soon as he remembers Neil’s phone and who he saw texting it. He sits up on the bed and watches the closed door of the bathroom. A minute passes, then another. Then Andrew’s getting off the bed because he catches himself counting how much time Neil's been in there. He hears Neil start the shower and knows he could just join him. That's normal. It's what they do. Why is he even second guessing himself?
The overthinking is frustrating, though, so Andrew decides to go into the spare bathroom instead, rinsing his face twice and showering on his own. Back in their bedroom, he finds Neil still in the boxers now paired with a black shirt, cross-legged on the bed, texting, and he continues texting while Andrew gets dressed. Andrew goes into his bathroom to brush his teeth and when he returns, Neil's still texting, but this time, he at least looks up at Andrew's approach and throws the phone aside.
He offers his hands and Andrew nods, guiding them to his hips to give him permission to touch him. Then he leans down to kiss him. The phone buzzes on the mattress and Andrew lifts his head to look at it despite himself. Neil kisses down his neck, but Andrew's busy eyeing the screen lighting up with more texts from Ryan.
"You two have become close," Andrew notes, unable to stop himself.
Neil hums, fingers running up Andrew's bare forearms to squeeze at his biceps.
"A bit."
"Has he visited Boston lately?"
Neil breaks from Andrew's jaw to blink at him.
“He’s there all the time.”
"For his dad."
"That’s part of it."
"But he sees you too."
"Um, yes."
Andrew's jaw tenses and Neil definitely notices.
"He's just a friend."
"I know that."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
Neil smirks. "You look kinda jealous, though."
"He gets to see you every week."
Neil's smile falters and he kisses him gently. "I'd see you every week, too, if I could."
"Doesn't he have his own season to worry about?"
Neil watches Andrew. "You really don't follow exy news, do you?" Andrew just looks at him. "Ryan injured his ankle last month, so he's out until June and living in Boston until he gets better."
Something cold settles in Andrew's chest. "Because of his dad?"
“Well, yeah. Plus he grew up there. He's thinking of transferring and we have space for a dealer, so it might actually work out."
Andrew watches him for a long time, trying hard not to show how bothered he is by all this. Especially when Neil's smiling like it's good fucking news.
"Okay," Andrew says eventually, then steps out of Neil's hands.
He goes to the kitchen and Neil follows.
"You're doing it again."
"I'm not doing anything."
"I've never seen you like this," Neil notes, sitting on a barstool. "You have nothing to be jealous about."
What a fucking idiot. The thing that matters most to Andrew, Ryan has. Maybe he should also twist his ankle.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Andrew asks, just to think about something else.
"Andrew..."
"Don't make me repeat myself," Andrew bites out and Neil's lips purse.
"I'm good with anything."
Andrew opens his fridge and looks inside for a long time. Everything looks unappetizing and too much effort to prepare.
Fucking space for a dealer on Neil's team. Neil's been in Boston for nearly two years. Is he really not thinking where to next? Has he asked Andrew if they need a striker on his team? But Ryan's in Boston. And Ryan likes exy. And Ryan makes protein-full fucking chili.
"Andrew," Neil repeats. His voice is careful and Andrew hates that it is. He bets Neil doesn't have to be careful with Ryan.
Andrew slams the fridge door and stands there for a long minute.
"I can go get us something," Neil offers. Andrew still doesn't move. Eventually, Neil slides off his stool and leaves the kitchen to get dressed. Then he stops by again. "I'll be right back, yes or no?"
"Yes," Andrew grits out without turning around. When he hears the door shut, he punches the fridge and a few magnets fall at his feet.
He doesn't even know why he's behaving like this. Or maybe he does. He's imagining a future together, when Neil's thinking of Ryan. Picture perfect Ryan. Guys like Ryan are probably much more pleasant to have breakfast with and probably don't throw tantrums at eleven in the morning.
After a few deep breaths, Andrew picks up the magnets and walks back to his bedroom to get his phone. He finds his messages with Bee, the last one sent the night before wishing him good luck on his game. Together they've discussed Neil a lot in the last year, especially with Andrew's team changes. Especially when Andrew was deciding which kind of apartment to get and where. Especially because Andrew wants Neil to be with him by the end of summer. Permanently. Yet he doesn’t know how to ask.
And now Neil’s already thinking of his next season with Ryan.
Fuck, Andrew just assumed Neil would read his mind and that's on him, too. And what if Neil likes Boston and doesn't want to move? Has Andrew ever asked?
What if Neil wants to stay in Boston? He texts Bee.
Have you asked him? She replies immediately.
Well, fuck. Thanks, Bee.
The front door unlocks. Andrew hears the rustle of a paper bag and comes out to investigate the noise.
"I got bagels," Neil says. His cheeks are flushed red and Andrew didn't even check if he wore a jacket before he left. Andrew comes close and stills when his hand is a breath away from Neil's face. Noticing that Andrew stopped, he nods and closes his eyes when Andrew's warm palm presses against his cold cheek.
"Did you not put on a jacket?"
"I thought you wanted to be left alone."
"You can still put on a damn jacket."
Neil opens his eyes and looks at him. "If it makes you mad-"
"Shut up."
"It's not the first time."
"It's not about that asshole, so don't even mention him." Neil's mouth closes, but he looks tense. "Do you like Boston?" Andrew asks and Neil blinks, not expecting that question.
"Um. I mean, I'm used to it, which is nice. I like the apartment and I like my team and how close the stadium is to where I live. The weather's okay too, most of the time, and the people are down-to-earth."
Andrew takes off his hand and says, "Okay."
They eat the bagels in silence and Neil eyes him the whole time, waiting for Andrew to finish the sentences he isn't starting. Andrew doesn't meet his gaze and stays angry. Angry with himself mostly, there's nothing to be mad at Neil for. Even the bagel's fucking delicious. Toasted raisin cinnamon with melted butter. He got himself the same thing, too. The gesture would make a weaker man cry.
"It's good," Neil says when he notices Andrew looking at his bagel.
"Liar."
"No, really. I like it. I think they use salted butter so it’s not overly sweet. It’s just right," Neil says and Andrew looks up at him. "Back with me?"
Andrew kicks his shin. "I never left."
Neil nods, even though he could easily disagree. They migrate to the couch later and watch Game of Thrones because Matt asked Neil to and Andrew doesn't care what's on TV as long as they’re together. They only last two episodes before Neil's body starts emitting palpable energy from his lack of a morning jog. Andrew dismisses Neil for the hour and cooks them up some chicken breast and broccoli with onion, the only vegetables he can stomach.
When Neil returns, he says the park is great and Andrew files that as a success. Now he just needs to ask Neil to consider moving here. He doesn’t understand why the question is so stuck in his throat.
---
Robin visits for a week during her Spring Break, but it's smack in the middle of the season for Andrew and Neil. He has games every few days and the days he doesn't, he's in practice. Robin spends most of the week entertained by Katelyn and any of Andrew's free time with Andrew taking her out around the area, scoping out places that would make Chicago an appealing place to live in. Today they're eating ice cream on Navy Pier. Yesterday they were at the art museum. Tomorrow they're going to a Broadway show. Not really things Neil would do, but good enough.
"How's Robin?" Neil asks when they're on the phone later. Robin's in the spare bedroom talking to her parents and Andrew's on the balcony not having a cigarette.
"She likes it here."
"I bet. One of the new players Milly's from Chicago and keeps going on about it whenever I say you're there. She gave me a list."
"You told her about me?" Andrew asks.
"Well... Not you exactly. But you know how people are... They're always asking if I'm seeing someone. I told them my partner lives there."
Andrew's heart squeezes to half its original size. All he says is, "Hmm."
"Hope that's okay?"
"Whatever you want." Neil laughs. "Does Ryan know?"
"Um. Sort of."
"Sort of?"
"I'm sure you have a whole file on Ryan at this point," Neil pauses and Andrew doesn't deny anything. "Ryan's pretty great about these things, he's been very open about his sexuality considering the space we're in." Yes, yes. Applause for fucking Ryan. He is the first publicly out player in exy and Andrew doesn't want to get into how that made him feel when he first found out. The handsome, charming, perfect dude who's growing close with Neil is also gay and super open about it. Just amazing.
"Where's his standing ovation," Andrew deadpans and Neil laughs, a little awkwardly.
"He already had one."
"What's your point?"
"Well, I think, you know, because of the things he stands for... I don't know. Can I tell him?"
"Tell him what?"
"You know."
"Do I?"
"Andrew..."
"Are you asking me if you can tell him you're in a six and a half year relationship with a man?"
Neil's breath stutters softly in the receiver. Just then there's a knock on the balcony door and Robin's head pops out.
"Hey Andrew, you want Chinese for dinner?" Andrew reaches for his wallet in his pocket. "Um, no it's fine. My parents said I should pay as thanks-"
"Tell your dad to order me a whiskey and not worry about anything else. Get me orange chicken and whatever you want for yourself," Andrew says, passing her the wallet. Robin looks a little uncomfortable but thanks him anyway.
"Tell Neil I say hi," she adds before leaving.
"Hear that?"
"Yeah, thanks," Neil says, voice tight. "Tell her hi back."
"You could also call her."
"We're not that close."
"You and her were alone together for a whole year."
"Yeah, but..." Neil doesn't finish the sentence, still sounding tight and awkward.
"Tell Ryan whatever you want. He's your friend."
"Okay, I was just making sure because..." He doesn't finish that either, and after a few seconds of silence Andrew prompts.
"Because what?"
"Well, you've never been a fan."
"I don't need to be his fan for him to be your friend. I don't like any of your other friends."
"Do you like anyone?"
"A very good question."
"Alright," Neil says finally. "I'll tell him I'm in a six and a half year relationship with a man." Maybe Andrew understands now why Neil's breath caught. It’s not news to either of them. Just not something they say out loud. Maybe they should.
"Has it really not come up until now?"
"We don't really talk about that stuff."
"Right, nothing's as fun as exy talk."
"Of course not," there's a small pause, then Neil adds. "It's nice, though. To have a friend around. I bet you feel like that with Aaron."
"In what world?"
Neil scoffs. "I mean, there was a reason you moved to Chicago."
"That was one of the reasons," Andrew agrees.
"Do you like it there?"
"It's not bad," Andrew says. A voice in the back of his mind chides him . Ask him, ask him, ask him. "Not perfect."
Andrew’s hand tightens around the balcony railing. Coward. Voicing the things he wants has never been this hard.
"Is anything?"
"It could be."
"Andrew-" Something sounds on Neil's side and Andrew hears muffled voices for a second. "Sorry, break’s over. I'll call you later?"
"Yes." Andrew hangs up and watches the call end at twenty three minutes. With a small sigh, he pockets his phone and heads back inside.
---
Before Robin’s flight back on Sunday, they go Downtown to visit Aaron and Katelyn at a place by their campus. Andrew and Katelyn still barely acknowledge each other, not for her lack of trying, but Andrew and Aaron have had amicable weekly meetings ever since Andrew moved to the city. It’s not the worst thing ever.
At the burger joint, Andrew eats slowly through his nuggets and fries as Robin shows Katelyn pictures from their day at the pier. Aaron sits across from Andrew and eats his burger without much talking either. Andrew’s not feeling awkward, but Aaron keeps glancing between his phone, to Andrew, to his own plate. Andrew’s not sure what he wants to say, but he isn’t looking forward to it.
When they’re done with their food, Andrew excuses himself to the bathroom but halts when he notices he’s being followed.
He turns to find their waitress following him a little too far to the bathroom. He raises a brow despite knowing where the conversation is going.
“Um… I’m sorry, I usually don’t do this, but my boyfriend is a huge Tigers fan, do you think I could-”
“I’m Aaron,” Andrew says on autopilot. “Andrew’s at the table if you want to try,” he waves her away. Although the joke worked in college, it’s been six years since he and Aaron looked traditionally identical. Andrew has his ears pierced now, while Aaron refuses to take off his glasses and keeps his hair short. The waitress must not actually know much about them because Andrew returns to find Aaron arms-crossed and fussing.
“Will you stop doing that?”
“Stop doing what?” Andrew asks.
Katelyn has her lips tucked in to keep from laughing and Robin is openly grinning.
“I hate rejecting your stupid autographs. They’re your fans.”
“If she was my fan, she would know better than to ask you for an autograph.”
“We’re identical.”
“Except I don’t look like a nerd.”
“Remember you said that next time you forge a doctor’s note.”
Andrew shrugs, looking around the room. The waitress is at the edge of the room whispering with a friend, her ears are visibly red even from their table.
“It’s funny, though,” Robin snickers. "The forums always talk about how Andrew’s impossible to get an autograph from. She probably had no actual idea who you are.”
“You need to read those less,” Andrew says and Robin shrugs.
“Maybe you should read those more,” Aaron grunts. “God knows you need to work on your image.”
“Not really my concern.”
Aaron scoffs. “Sure, it isn’t.”
Before a fuse can be lit, Katelyn quickly raps her fingers against the table. “Should we go?”
Andrew ignores her. “Why, Aaron?” He teases. “Are you keeping up with the forums?”
“I don’t need to keep up with anything. I can’t go into a convenience store without seeing our last name.” Andrew huffs something akin to a laugh that has Aaron’s brow rising. “Do you look at magazines?”
“Waste of time.”
“Is it?” Aaron’s brow crease morphs into disbelief and Andrew’s eyes narrow.
“What?” He snaps.
“You really have no idea?”
“Maybe if you got to the point.” At Aaron’s side Katelyn squirms in her seat and Robin’s tilting her head to look at Andrew.
Aaron’s face twists into a smile. “Oh, this is hilarious. I knew we should show him.”
“I don’t think that’s-” Katelyn tries but Aaron’s already pulling up something on his phone.
“I thought you must've known..." It doesn't take longer than half a minute for Aaron to slide his phone towards Andrew across the table. As soon as Andrew looks down, his stomach drops. He should’ve known.
Neil Josten Finds his Prince Charming?
After years of rumors and avoiding the big romance question, Neil Josten seems to have finally come out with the truth, and what a coming out, too! Ryan Page, famously out and proud since last year, has been residing in Boston ever since his ankle injury in early February. Although his new locality was confusing considering his California origins, it makes sense now with the multitude of times he and Josten have been spotted together around the city, from food and clothes shopping to romantic walks around the park... They're inseparable!
Despite Josten's ongoing rumors with college teammates Kevin Day and Andrew Minyard, it's hard to deny that he and Ryan look like anything but lovebirds. After all the drama we've witnessed in the Josten-Minyard rivalry, we can wholeheartedly say it's great to see Josten finally receive the warmth and love he deserves! Wishing the best to the alleged couple, but really, look at their smiles... Is there anything else left to say? ;)
Andrew skims the article and tries not to narrow in on the photos, but they’re hard to ignore. In most of them, it’s hard to see their faces, but there is one photo in which Neil’s snickering at something Ryan’s showing him at a supermarket. There’s nothing actually romantic about the photos. They aren’t physically close and Neil is barely facing Ryan in any of them, but it all still rubs Andrew completely the wrong way.
He pushes the phone away and glares up at Aaron, not because he’s angry at his brother, but because he’s kind of angry, period.
“Your point?” Andrew prompts.
Aaron didn’t think this through because all he utters is an elaborate: “Uhhhh.”
“Well, we know it’s all fake, so it doesn’t matter,” Katelyn tries.
“Is Ryan even real?” Robin asks.
“Unfortunately,” Andrew says in a bout of honesty. Desperate to get out of there, he flags the waitress to bring them their bill.
“But you and Neil are fine,” Aaron says. It’s not a question, but not a statement either.
“Yes, we’re fine ,” Andrew grits out.
“They talk on the phone for like an hour every night,” Robin adds and Andrew is already taking out his wallet to get out of there as soon as possible. When he sees Aaron reaching for his own pocket, he stops him.
“Put that away, I’m paying.”
“You have paid enough for me, I can at least buy lunch-”
“Buy us dessert,” Andrew says, leaving a one hundred bill on the table and pulling on his jacket before sliding out of the booth.
Outside, the cold air prickles at his cheeks and Andrew craves a cigarette more than ever. The images are burned to the back of his eyes and he’d rather never have a picture of him and Neil anywhere near a magazine, but damn it . Neil felt far away already, but it’s getting worse. Why did Ryan need to be so fucking-
“You forgot your change,” Aaron says as he comes up at his side.
“I don’t want the change.” He’s sure the waitress prefers a sixty dollar tip over an autograph, anyway.
Once Robin and Katelyn are bundled up and outside, Andrew leads them to a bubble tea place down the street that he knew Robin wanted to try. He tells Aaron he’ll have a bubble waffle and sits at a booth in the corner while the rest order.
He toys with his phone while he waits. His conversation with Neil is opened up but they haven’t texted in a few days, not that they’re usually big texters, but now, more than ever, Andrew feels a gaping void he wants to fill. He just wants to talk to him. He can’t believe that he doesn’t know how.
“You sure you and Neil are okay?” Andrew was so focused on his phone, he didn’t realize Aaron had sat down in front of him. He glares at him, and Aaron raises a brow. “Why are you surprised at the question? You’re the one sitting here, moping.”
“Neil and I are just fine.”
“Then why isn’t he in Chicago?”
“Because he plays in Boston.”
“Okay. Then why aren’t you in Boston?”
Andrew’s lips twitch, bordering a scowl. “Because I want him to come to Chicago.”
“Does Neil know that?” Andrew’s silence says enough. “Well, if it’s any consolation, Neil’s a dumbass, but I don’t think he’d cheat on you.”
“I know that,” Andrew snaps.
“Then why are you so pissed?” Andrew doesn’t fucking know and he’s tired of the question. “You know, I get it, though. If I had to live away from Katelyn, I’d also hate my life.” Andrew looks up at him, unamused. “Stop glaring and just ask Neil to move here already,” then he pauses. “You don’t actually think he’ll say no, do you?” Andrew’s face doesn’t change. “That’s funny. Are you actually intimidated by this Ryan guy?”
“I’m not intimidated .”
“Then what is it?”
Katelyn and Robin are really taking their time and Andrew doesn’t want to admit that Katelyn is probably keeping Robin away just so they can finish this useless conversation.
“It’s nothing.”
“Liar.”
Andrew stares down at his phone, at his and Neil’s empty conversation. Then he remembers all the texts from Ryan. The pit in his stomach feels heavier than ever and he takes a long breath.
“Neil wouldn’t cheat on me, but he wouldn’t leave me either, even if it’s for his benefit.”
There’s a long silence and when Andrew looks up, Aaron scoffs.
“You flatter him, Andrew. You both are so fucked up, nobody else would tolerate either of you.” Andrew wonders if it’s his attempt at a joke.
There’s no room to say more, because the girls come back with dessert and bubble tea and Andrew's waffle looks far more appealing than the thought of continuing their awful conversation. In a moment that feels strangely vulnerable, Andrew snaps a picture and sends it to Neil before anyone else can comment on it and, luckily, nobody does. Robin starts telling them of her summer plans and Andrew eats slowly through the waffle, trying not to glance too much at his phone or to think too much of his own hopes for summer.
When there’s nothing in their cups but leftover bubbles and they’re just about ready to go, Andrew’s phone lights up with a message.
What do you want me to say about this andrew? At least tell me you had one vegetable today.
Before Andrew can answer, Neil continues, and don’t say potatoes!
Andrew’s lips twitch and he takes a deep breath to hide whatever was about to show on his face. He chooses not to answer, and looks up to find Aaron watching him. He raises his brows as if to say, see , and even if Andrew does, he can’t explain how it all still feels unbalanced. How can Andrew compete with a guy like Ryan? Things like warmth and love aren’t things Andrew can offer and after everything Neil’s been through, why wouldn’t he want someone who could? But Andrew’s never been one to shy away from his own desires, so he meets Aaron’s gaze head on and tells himself next time he sees Neil, he’s going to ask.
---
Andrew’s next flight to Boston is two weeks later, on the 29th of March. After years of being a real boy, Neil's still not used to birthdays. Andrew can't really blame him, he's no fan of them either, but Neil actually tried to get used to them as the years went by. A stark contrast to Andrew, who doesn't think he'll ever celebrate his own birthday and is very comfortable with that thought. Although the original plan was to gather the Foxes for the weekend, the sudden rough mid-spring weather kept everyone apart and only Andrew stubbornly arrived a few days before the storm could hit.
Neil picks him up at the airport on time and, without anyone honking behind them, Andrew has a spare minute to pull Neil close and kiss him hello. Finally. It was another month of not seeing Neil and it had been irritating him to no end. At least he's here now, with nearly a week before he has to fly back.
Neil's apartment is unnaturally clean. King's on his pillow in the corner and Andrew doesn't want to show how something tugs in his chest at the desire of having this be his every day. Neil takes their bags to his bedroom and then comes back and Andrew kisses him without filling the space with words that feel sour on his tongue. He just wants this. It's tugging at him nonstop, how badly he wants this. Can't Neil feel it? Doesn't he want it either?
"I made you something," Neil whispers against his lips and Andrew pulls away with a questioning hum. Neil smiles and steps away, walking over to the fridge. "Since you're so bothered by my lack of a sweet tooth, Ryan and I have been experimenting with healthy sweet food." Andrew's lip curls, but he hides it before Neil turns around. "Don't look upset. It'll taste good, or at least I think it will."
Andrew's taste buds are already preparing for war just thinking of trying whatever Ryan made. He's already decided he's going to hate it.
"At least try it out before you decide anything," Neil laughs. He pulls out a tray from the freezer and slams it against the kitchen island a few times so the pink frozen bark cracks. He takes out a spoon and breaks it apart into pieces, passing Andrew a sharp edge. Andrew sniffs it, but ultimately takes a bite. It tastes like frozen yogurt. Not awful, but Andrew wants to hate it on principle.
"It's Greek yogurt blended with berries. We added some honey just so you don't have a stroke from the lack of sugar. But it's good right? Sweet, too."
Andrew takes another bite and Neil grins.
"Nice. We prepped some brownie batter, so I just have to bake that. There's also chocolate chia pudding that needs a couple more hours. Oh, and we perfected the best banana bread ever, I can bake it sometime this week. We also tried making some homemade ice cream, but honestly it's not even comparable to the stuff you like, so I doubt that one will win any favors from you-"
Andrew watches the yogurt bark melting between his fingers. The one Neil made with Ryan. The other ‘we’ Andrew never wanted to hear. A murky feeling swims in his chest. The jealousy wraps around his spine and clogs his throat. Andrew couldn't give a lesser shit about Ryan, but he wants to be the one making stupid healthy deserts with Neil, damn it.
"Andrew?" Andrew's eyes snap up to meet Neil's. He's watching him curiously and Andrew puts the rest of the bark in his mouth and chews on it slowly, ignoring how his teeth tingle at their coldness. "Do you like it?" Neil asks softly.
"It's fine," Andrew says.
"Want more?"
"No."
"Okay..." Neil stands there for a second, then puts the tray away. The air turns thick and awkward. Neil and Andrew are never thick and awkward. Andrew wants to wave his arm around until the air clears. Neil meets his eyes and whatever he sees in Andrew's has him coming closer as if called.
Their kiss is slow yet brief. Neil leaves an extra kiss on his cheek before separating and asking if Andrew wants coffee. When he shakes his head, he asks if he wants to watch something. Then he asks if he wants to lay in bed. Nap. Read. Go on a walk. Neil has no problem asking Andrew what he wants, why can't Andrew do the same when Neil's answers matter to him the most?
Neil senses Andrew's lack of responsiveness, so he moves on to other topics. Tells him about some people on his team, Wymack and Abby planning to visit when the semester is over, and Allison's visit last week. Apparently Dan's pregnant with a girl and he facetimed Nicky earlier that day. Neil lists through people and people, a spider web of connections a boy who ran for most of his life has woven around him. How does Andrew fit into all this? There’s only the monthly visits.
When Neil kisses him again, Andrew pulls Neil closer, his thigh slotting between Neil's. The kiss grows more urgent and it's familiar territory. Something melts in Andrew's chest and he can breathe again, breathe Neil in, taste the delicious noises he makes on the tip of his tongue. Neil's heart pounds against Andrew's fingers on his chest and Andrew presses his left hand against his ass. Years and years together and Andrew still can't come up with words as easily as he'd like. But he can pull Neil in, he can kiss the corner of his mouth, suck on the tender spot beneath his ear. He can allow Neil to run his hands down his neck and press his fingers into his shoulders. Just like this, it's okay. Even if it’s once a month, it’s okay. The longer they kiss, though, the deeper they kiss, Andrew realizes he doesn’t believe that anymore.
---
Andrew wakes when Neil stretches across the mattress before eventually getting up for his run. He doesn't open his eyes, listening to Neil shuffle around the room until he leaves, leaving the door open for King to stroll through and settle by Andrew's thigh. Andrew drifts back to sleep and only rises when he hears voices in the kitchen. King, sensing that Andrew's awake, meows softly until Andrew's hand sinks into his fur.
Recognizing Neil’s voice is second nature. He’s talking to someone on loudspeaker and Andrew's first thought is Ryan, but the voice is female and when Andrew rises on his forearm to concentrate, he recognizes Allison's shrillness.
"Neil, you can't just sit at home for your birthday."
"Have you seen the weather? Of course, I can."
She clicks her tongue and the sound is sharp through the speakers. "When will you stop being boring?"
"I'm not bored," Neil replies. Andrew hears what's likely the pan setting on the stove and he sits up with the force of his growling stomach.
"Right, you've been living like an old married couple since you turned nineteen," Allison scoffs and King purrs, thinking that'll stop Andrew from leaving. It only works because Allison's next words run through him like liquid ice. "At least your second boyfriend's fun."
Neil groans. "Stop calling him that. Actually everybody needs to stop calling him that. He's just a friend."
"See, that's what I don't get. Handsome, charming, polite. If he wasn't staring at you all through dinner, I would've snatched him."
"No, he wasn't," Neil hisses.
"Sure, he wasn't." The eyeroll is obvious in her voice. "You got the perfect guy drooling over you but you choose to stay with Andrew and his baggage full of people problems.”
“Don’t talk about him that way,” Neil snaps.
“I just don’t get it, Neil. Look at you and look at Ryan, maybe that could be your happily-ever-after instead of tolerating that unfeeling-"
Her voice is cut off and then Neil's hissing into his phone. "Allison, stop it, seriously. Not only is it none of your business, but I’m sick of hearing you speak that way about Andrew." He's silent before he snaps again, "Because I've told you a million times, it's not funny and it never will be!" Andrew can hear pacing and Neil's definitely not cooking anymore. "You're pissing me off. Is there anything else you want to say or can I hang up?"
King whines and Andrew didn’t realize how tightly he was clutching him, smoothing out his rough touch.
"Good. Bye." Andrew hears the clatter of the phone and then nothing.
King purrs from underneath his hand but the entire world feels silent. Still.
Being with Andrew when there's a perfect guy interested in him. Why is Neil rejecting that? Andrew can’t even disagree.
There's some movement in the kitchen again and Andrew lies back down against the pillows. A moment later there's a soft knock on the half open door and despite Andrew's silence, Neil pushes the door open.
"Andrew?"
Andrew's eyes are closed and his chest rises slowly, hand burrowed in King's fur. Neil waits, but doesn't ask again before leaving. When Andrew opens his eyes, he feels the decision take shape in his gut.
The smell of grilled bacon and onion pulls him from the bed. He pads over and his plate is ready, coffee perfectly light beige and steaming. Andrew didn't need to say anything, Neil knows when he's awake the same way he can sense his moods from miles away. So, Andrew avoids looking at him. He’s not sure if he wants Neil reading him right now.
"Morning," Neil says sheepishly when they’re seated across from each other. As much as Andrew's in a mood, Neil is also. Allison's words grate at both their minds and Andrew should've known she will only get better at saying the worst possible things. She and Nicky could compete for it.
Their eyes meet and Neil's blue is murky today. Unsure. "Andrew-"
"You should invite him," Andrew says, throwing the words out there so they finally exist between them.
"What?"
"Ryan. Invite him for dinner."
Neil's mouth hangs open for a moment and Andrew starts eating, bacon crispy when his fork sinks in.
"Andrew, you don't have to-"
Andrew's fork clatters onto the plate and Andrew glares at him. "I know I don't have to," he spits. Neil is patient as he waits for an explanation. "It's your birthday. You can invite whoever you want."
"You're here," Neil says as if it explains everything. Right now, it's only irritating.
"And if I wasn't here?"
Neil frowns. "That's different."
"It shouldn't be." Andrew keeps eating without tasting anything while Neil sits there, watching him, unsure. "It's not rocket science. Invite him."
"Why?"
"Because you want him there."
"I want you here."
"I am here."
"Right now, it doesn't seem like it."
Andrew meets his eyes. Neil's the farthest from smiling Andrew's seen in a while.
"I know what I’m saying."
"I know you do," Neil says, clearly not liking it. Then he sighs. "Fine. Since you insist."
Andrew looks away from Neil and keeps eating. Neil doesn't reach for his fork until Andrew points at his plate with his own.
"All that effort and you're going to let it go cold."
"Not hungry."
"How much did you run this morning?"
Neil's lips purse in a scowl. "Fuck off," he only eats two bites before he points at Andrew with his fork. "I'm going to figure out what the hell is going on with you." Andrew stares at him, unimpressed, and Neil's eyes narrow. He picks up his phone and dials without looking away.
"Hey Ryan," Andrew can hear a chirpy voice on the other side but can't distinguish what's being said. "Are you free tonight? Want to come over for dinner?" A pause. "Yeah, Andrew's here," Neil says, eyes on Andrew. "He's the one who extended the invite, actually." Come on, Neil. You don't say that to the guy who's interested in you, fucking hell. "Great. Around seven should work," he pauses again, listening, then nearly smiles. "Yeah, he liked the yogurt bark." Andrew tries to keep his face as impassive as possible as he watches Neil say his goodbyes. Then whatever hint of smile Neil had disappears. "There you go."
"Tonight isn't your birthday."
"Wow, thanks for reminding me." Andrew glares. "You said invite him to dinner, I invited him to dinner."
"Tomorrow-"
"Yes, Andrew, tomorrow is my birthday. I can choose how I want to spend it, thanks." His phone buzzes, ripping apart the awkward moment and he licks his lips before replying to the message.
Andrew's taste buds feel a little broken, but he finishes his food anyway and takes his dishes to the sink.
After he's done, he finds Neil staring at him, plate still half-full. It's been years since he felt so self-destructive, but it's like a snowball pushed down a hill. He's rolling, rolling, rolling and it's only getting worse. Andrew's no longer sure what shape he'll be in on impact.
"Staring," Andrew says, just for a tug of normalcy.
"I'm going to figure out what the hell you're thinking."
"There's nothing to figure out."
"Not a math problem, are you?" Neil smirks. "But I'll still solve you."
"Very cute."
"Nobody will ever believe that you just said cute out loud."
Andrew watches him, then jerks his chin at the plate. "Eat."
Neil keeps his gaze. "Tomorrow, I want you back with me. Got it?"
"I'm already here, idiot."
"No, you're not. I don't know what's bothering you, but if having dinner with Ryan will fix it, then I want it out of the way."
"Not a nice way of talking about your friend."
"Yeah, well maybe that will help you realize some things," Neil picks up a fork and starts shoveling food into his mouth. "Oh," he says, without bothering to swallow, “And you're cooking. Asshole."
---
Later in the afternoon, Andrew starts taking care of dinner preparations while Neil, showered and soft in the cloudy daylight, lazes around on the couch with King on his stomach. There's no way Andrew’s gonna eat any healthy crap for dinner, either, so while out for the ingredients, he grabs extra stuff for some actual dessert. When he comes home and takes out the three different kinds of chocolate chips, Neil's eye roll could be seen from space.
"People like you shouldn't have that much money if you spend it on this crap."
"I'm the one cooking," Andrew dismisses him and Neil sighs audibly, turning up the TV as Andrew's banging around the kitchen grows louder.
Andrew goes for squid ink spaghetti with broccoli, turkey, and an absurd amount of parmesan. The whole apartment fills with the smell of cheese, that even Neil migrates to the kitchen counter with King jumping on the barstool, sniffing at the air.
"So you actually can make things like this?"
"Shut up," Andrew grunts, opening the pot to stir it and tilting away when his eyes tear up from the steam. He wipes them with the collar of his shirt and meets Neil's smile once he can see again. "Shut up."
Neil mimics zipping his lips and watches Andrew start on the cake, chin comfortably on the heel of his hand. It's not distracting exactly, but Andrew is aware of Neil's satellite eyes following his every move.
When Andrew takes out the sugar, he points at Neil. "Not a word."
Neil's smile stretches, but he stays silent, then the smile disappears into a deep cringe. Andrew's not even putting the full amount of sugar on the recipe. Drama queen.
The cake is a triple chocolate brownie with sea salt sprinkle, because there's no way he was going to eat whatever sugar-free crap Neil prepared. Neil, however, does not feel the same way about chocolate as Andrew does and he looks more and more disappointed as more and more sugar gets added. Once the brownie is tucked away in the oven, Neil deflates and now his cheek is squished against his knuckles. Andrew will not think the word cute twice in one day.
After washing his hands, Andrew sets the timer on his phone for twenty minutes and gets out some veggies for a side salad. He rinses the tomatoes, cucumbers, and whatever brussels sprouts Neil had leftover and starts dicing them on the wooden cutting board. He cuts through them quickly and expertly, whatever pouty expression Neil had melts into passiveness as he watches. Knives will always be hard for Neil to stomach, but at least he isn't leaving at the sight of them.
Once Andrew scoops all of the veggies into a large bowl, he takes out some items for a sauce. Olive oil, mustard, salt and whatever spices Neil has. He's not a huge cook, but he does occasionally enjoy it. Basic things like this are no problem, and it's healthy enough that Neil will at least eat a good amount for dinner.
He looks up as he's mixing together the sauce. Neil's bottom lip is between his teeth and he looks like he'll burst if he doesn't get a word out.
"Speak."
"You're good," Neil says immediately, sounding somewhat wistful. "When did you get so good?"
"I could always cook, idiot," Andrew mutters. At the dorms he cooked. On the weekends in Columbia he cooked. But there was no reason to cook much when traveling or visiting for a weekend. The weeks they could spend together, Neil was too busy making his healthy recipes to consider 300 grams of cheese in his dinner.
"Yeah, but..." He watches as Andrew gets out a can of the chickpeas Neil has a stupid abundance of. He spills them into a drainer and rinses a couple of times. "This all looks and smells so good."
"My pleasure," Andrew says without feeling.
"Maybe you're the one who wants to impress Ryan," Neil smirks and Andrew raises a brow.
"This isn't impressive. And if it is, I am scared to know what the hell you eat on a regular basis."
Neil pouts for real this time and Andrew takes care of mixing the salad together before putting it back into the fridge to cool. With the pasta warm on the stove, the salad prepared, and the brownies with another - Andrew checks his phone - two minutes to go in the oven, he's done. It's six, too. One more hour.
"Want to watch Game of Thrones?" Neil asks, sensing Andrew's lack of ideas. Though really, there isn't a lack of ideas in Andrew's head. Not when Neil's here and so is a comfortable and appealing bed. The promise of Neil's warm skin.
But Andrew still feels on edge and agitated. Doing anything with Neil right now feels wrong, when all he can hear in his head are Allison's words from before. Andrew and his baggage, his people problems. Andrew who doesn't fit with Neil the way a perfect Ryan does. Andrew nods, then takes out the baked brownies as Neil drops onto the couch and turns on the TV.
With the brownies out of their tray and on the cooling rack, Andrew watches the corner of Neil's bottom lip worry between his teeth. His hair is a dark auburn today from the lack of sunlight outside. Andrew turns on a lamp on his way to sit at Neil's side, and the light splashes stray hairs bright orange. Sitting, Andrew has to restrain himself from reaching over. It's been so long since he's restrained himself like this, since he felt the need to.
Neil sets up the episode and puts his chin onto his knees, hands wrapped around his ankles. The episode starts and Neil watches, but Andrew's far too uninterested in whatever the hell happens onscreen.
Tolerating an unfeeling monster . He knows that's what Allison was going to say, he knows it’s what she feels about him. He has felt it in her eyes and in her attitude before his fingers ever wrung her neck. As the years go by, it only gets worse. Andrew doesn't doubt that she's right, either. He can’t even ask for the most basic things. Could he offer them? Move in with me. Spend your life with me. A possessive hand wraps around Andrew's throat and he's scared of everything he wants to say. It's been so, so long since he's been scared.
It doesn't take long for Neil to catch him staring. He smirks, and says so. Andrew doesn't deny it and keeps watching him in silence until Neil’s smile wavers.
"Andrew," he says, turning, letting the episode go on. See Andrew, you're more important than whatever Robb Stark is saying. Ask him. "We can do something else."
"This is fine."
"Are you lying to me?"
"No."
Neil watches him for a moment longer, then his knee falls onto the couch so he can turn more comfortably towards him. "Yes or no?"
Easy questions deserve easy answers. Andrew's yes rewards him with a slow kiss and then another one on his cheek.
"Don't be too nervous about dinner," Neil teases into his temple and moves away with an awful smile Andrew wants to remember forever.
"Shut up."
Neil shrugs with a small laugh and rewinds to the spot he left off from. When he leans back, his head rolls onto Andrew's shoulder and Andrew takes a deep breath.
---
They set the table after the episode ends, just in time for Ryan to knock at five to seven. Andrew's taking out the wine opener, but Neil shakes his hand on his way to get the door.
"Ryan said he'll bring a bottle."
"Great," Andrew mutters under his breath, putting the wine back onto the kitchen counter.
He hears their friendly greetings in the kitchen and kneels to give King a few scratches under his chin for good luck. When he straightens back out, Ryan's grinning at him from the hallway.
"Minyard, it's been a while," he says pleasantly, reaching out with his hand. Andrew shakes it, but doesn't offer the same friendliness. Ryan smooths right over it, like it's no big deal, noticing the abandoned wine opener. "Oh, right! I brought the Merlot Neil likes. I hope that's okay with you."
Andrew only ever drinks whiskey with Neil. The wine he bought earlier is just the wine that looked the most okay to buy at a supermarket. But Neil has a favorite Merlot. And Ryan knows about it. And Andrew doesn’t.
"I'll open it," Andrew says and Ryan nods, placing a thin canvas bag onto the kitchen island. Inside are two bottles. Two bottles of Neil's favorite wine. Andrew grits his teeth and tries to stay calm.
Neil takes Ryan to the table, they're already chattering over some stats Andrew really doesn't want to fucking follow. He unscrews the wine with more vigor than needed and the cork nearly breaks in the neck but somehow still pulls through. Inspiring, really. Maybe Andrew can handle this dinner and nobody has to die.
He brings out the wine just as Ryan is checking out the spread.
"This all looks so good. Neil told me you're cooking, but otherwise I would've believed this is from a restaurant."
"No need to flatter me," Andrew says, pouring Ryan the wine first, then for Neil, and himself for last. When he sits, it's silent. Andrew raises his brow. "Go ahead."
Neil's demeanor shifts as soon as they're seated, typical of a runner who can't scope the situation he's in. Andrew can't blame him. He's not quite sure what he's doing either. All he knows is that Ryan is smooth like butter. Perfectly at peace with the circumstances and where he's at. Fucking Mister Perfect.
"Pasta?" Andrew asks.
"Please," Ryan says. Andrew's grip on the serving spoon is tight but he doesn't snap at him. When he meets Neil's eyes, Neil's looking at him like he expected him to. Of course he would. Andrew has people problems, after all.
"You?"
"Yeah," Neil says, lifting his plate. "Thanks." Andrew gives a little extra to Neil before serving himself and then gestures at the salad.
"That's not for me, I'm not the health freak here."
Neil actually huffs a small laugh at that and puts some on Ryan's plate before his own.
Ryan takes the first bite of food, chewing with a nod of approval. "Tastes as good as it looks," he compliments.
Andrew lifts his glass of wine as thank you before taking a small sip and keeping his face straight. Neil likes this shit?
"How's Chicago this time of year?" Ryan asks as Andrew puts down his glass.
"Cold."
"And your season?"
"Boring."
"The stats say you haven't let in more than a dozen goals since February."
"And?"
"I guess it sounds unbelievable."
"They're stats," Andrew says. "They don't exactly lie."
Ryan laughs, "I just meant that it's impressive." Andrew isn't going to thank him. At the head of the table, Neil eats slowly through his food and goes between twirling strings of pasta to glancing uncertainly at Andrew. He knows there's some plan brewing in Andrew’s head, but he won't ask about it. Not that Andrew could answer when he’s not sure of it himself.
"What about you?" Andrew prompts.
Neil's hand stills, but Ryan smiles like he's pleased about where this is going. "What about me?"
"What are your stats?"
"Well, I've had a semi-bad ankle injury. Don't exactly have any stats to go by, this season."
Andrew huffs a laugh, less out of friendliness than from the cruelty that's invading his senses. "I doubt that."
Ryan smiles back, unsure. "What do you mean?"
"Well. You must have other stats to go by."
"My previous season was great-"
Ryan goes off on a rant of all his previous exy stats that Andrew couldn't give two shits about. Instead, he has a few bites of food and sips on his wine. Beside him, Neil is barely eating again. Part of Andrew hates putting him in this position, part of him takes Neil's unease as confirmation that Andrew is the reason he's so stiff. How could it be Ryan's fault after all? Not when Ryan's being kind, polite, welcoming, and sincere. Ryan brought Neil's favorite wine. Ryan has an abundance of exy stats on the tip of his tongue. Ryan is perfect. Perfect for Neil.
"-hopefully by June, I can be on the field again."
"Back to New York?" Andrew prompts, even though he knows the truth.
"No, they cut my contract early," Ryan takes a sip. "Neil's team is looking to sign me once I can be on the field again.”
"Exciting," Andrew deadpans.
"Yes, it'll be fun. Neil's great company," Ryan looks over at Neil and smiles. It could be considered a polite smile. A friendly smile. But something cold leaks into Andrew's chest. His lips tug upwards and stretch across his face.
"He is, isn't he?"
Ryan must realize his error because he laughs nervously, waving his hands. "I didn't mean like that, of course."
"Like what?" Andrew's smile twists his mouth. He's not used to the feeling of it on his face, hasn't been since early college. With the way Neil's staring at him, he isn't either.
"Neil told me he's seeing someone, I wouldn't overstep."
"Hmm. You wouldn't?"
"Uh," Ryan glances at Neil again for some support, but Neil's still looking at Andrew. "Of course, not. I know Neil's serious about this person," the way he puts emphasis on this person , it's clear they all know exactly who he's speaking about. Yet he's walking on eggshells. Everyone's walking on eggshells. Because of Andrew.
"So?" Andrew asks, taking a bite of turkey.
Ryan swallows and his smile disappears for a much more confused expression. "So," Ryan enunciates carefully. "I respect that."
"Respect," Andrew's actually a little entertained now. "Respect, but not approval."
Ryan blinks. "I didn't say that."
"But you meant it."
"I didn't."
"Why not?" Andrew pushes, piercing a piece of broccoli with his fork and lifting it in the air. "You're a good guy. Handsome. Good at exy. Probably well off too. No doubt your family is all nice and cookie cutter and, from what I gather, Neil likes spending time with you."
"Well, Neil's a friend," Ryan laughs, this time there's a nervous tinge to it. "Of course, he feels that way."
"And the magazines."
Ryan laughs again. "We all know all that stuff is made up," he meets Neil's eyes who returns the gaze with an awkward smile.
"Especially the dating pictures," Andrew prompts, not exactly a question.
"Especially those."
"Hmm," Andrew taps a finger on the table. "So you don't think you and Neil would make a good pair?"
Ryan's mouth hangs open. "That's irrelevant."
"Is it? Do you think Neil should date you?"
"I think Neil can speak for himself in that regard."
"Neil wouldn't know a good thing if it stood in front of him," Andrew gestures at Ryan. "As you can already tell." Ryan is speechless and Andrew refuses to look at Neil yet. During the silence, Andrew's the only one who continues eating.
"What's going on here?" Ryan says eventually.
"We're having dinner."
"Listen, if me speaking to Neil is making you uncomfortable or something-"
"Neil can speak to whoever he wants," Andrew cuts him off.
"Can he?" Ryan asks, unsure. "You don't seem very comfortable with our friendship."
"Your friendship means nothing to me."
"Then what is this all about?"
"Just observation."
"I'm not quite understanding what you're observing then," Ryan's voice comes out harsher and Andrew can't say his attitude is uncalled for.
"Neil doesn't let many people in."
"I wonder why," Ryan scoffs and Andrew raises a brow.
"If he lets someone in, then it's not something to take for granted. Especially not a perfect guy like yourself."
"I know that," then he pauses and frowns. "Wait, what?"
"Andrew-" Neil says carefully. It's the first thing he's said since dinner started, and Andrew talks over him.
"I think if Neil's letting anyone in, it's good that it's you."
Everyone is silent for a long minute. Andrew takes another sip. He should probably slow down with the wine, but this conversation is hard enough sober.
"You do like Neil, don't you?" Andrew asks when Ryan hasn't said anything. He blinks.
"Yes, as a friend," he repeats, then glances at Neil. "What is happening here? Isn't Andrew your-"
"I think you're lying and I don't understand why."
Ryan's face twists in confusion. "Because it’s irrelevant. Neil’s a friend, plus he’s seeing someone."
"And if that person is objectively worse than you in every way, wouldn't you prefer if it was yourself?"
"I-"
"Andrew," Neil's voice is low and urgent. "That’s enough."
Andrew ignores him, watching Ryan instead.
"I mean, you must think about it," he continues. "If it could be you instead. Why else would you go through all the effort?"
"That's completely-"
"I don't understand why you're denying it. The tabloids aren't. Your actions aren't. Nobody in Neil's life is either. You should talk to them more often, they're quite the company." There's a tickle at the base of Andrew's throat, almost like laughter trying to get out. Not real laughter, Andrew's likely incapable of anything human like that. Just dark, twisted humor for this situation. And what he's saying is true, too. It's all so true. The way both Neil and Ryan stare at him only further confirms it.
Neil sinks his fingers into Andrew's forearm. "Andrew," he says, almost questioning. It's rare that Neil doesn't understand Andrew, he can sense the panic in his voice. Somehow it only makes Andrew angrier.
"Don't touch me," Andrew growls back in Russian, meeting his eyes and Neil immediately lets go, inhaling deeply through his nose.
There's a long, tense moment before Neil glances at Ryan and says, "You should go."
Ryan blinks. "What just happened?"
"Thanks for coming, but I really think you should leave," Neil repeats, getting up.
"I'm not leaving you here if-"
"I'm fine," Neil says. Through all of his speaking, he hasn't looked away from Andrew for even a second.
"This doesn't look fine," Ryan insists. "What did he just tell you?"
Neil finally rips his gaze from Andrew and glares at Ryan instead. "I said I'm fine. I'll talk to you later. You can go."
Ryan's frown clearly says he's never seen Neil like this and Andrew weighs with the realization that once again Andrew's the one to bring out such a side from him. The delight that is Neil, becoming a problem with Andrew around.
Ryan tries for a careful hand on Neil's shoulder, but barely grazes it, noticing Andrew's glare. "If he's threatening you-"
"Ryan, don't overstep," Neil warns. "I'm tired of repeating myself, you can leave."
Ryan swallows, but doesn't push it. "Call me if you need me," he says, then looks at Andrew and continues, quickly, "I've heard a lot of things about you, but people weren't kidding when they said you have problems. Neil's my friend, so if you so much as-"
"If you already knew all that, you should've considered it before agreeing to come for dinner," Neil warns this time. "Andrew would never hurt me and fuck you for assuming that, now I've asked you three times to leave already. Do I need to show you to the door?"
Ryan takes a small breath. "I'll get it myself."
"Great. Bye," Neil looks back at Andrew and Andrew lifts his hand in a salute farewell, but doesn't look at Ryan who does eventually leave. Once the door closes behind him, Neil kicks the table leg. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Andrew raises a brow. "You're asking now?"
"Ryan's a good guy."
"I know."
"And he's a good friend."
"I know."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Helping you see that."
"I don't need to see that," Neil bites, hand landing on the table so he can lean over and get a closer look at Andrew. "I already know it. And if you do too, then you could've at least acted like a decent human being for once."
"For once," Andrew repeats. He's not offended by it and Neil knows he wouldn't be, but he still sighs.
"You know what I mean."
Andrew shrugs, fingers toying with the stem of his glass.
"Why would you make me invite him to dinner if you were just going to behave like that?"
"Because you're an idiot."
Neil's nostrils flare but he doesn't roll his eyes. "Great. Care to explain?"
Andrew is stubbornly silent. Neil waits and waits and waits. Just to be an asshole, Andrew only moves to take a slow sip of wine.
"You can be so fucking impossible sometimes," Neil mutters, fingers tightening into a fist on the table. "Can you talk to me?"
Andrew meets his eyes and eventually says, "People are right about Ryan.” Neil keeps waiting. "He's a great guy, perfect, really."
When he doesn't continue, Neil shakes his head, "Okay... And?"
"He's probably the greatest guy you'll ever meet," Andrew says, but this time, he isn't quite meeting Neil's eyes.
It takes a long silent minute, but when Andrew looks at him, he can see realization settle in Neil's expression.
"Is this about what Allison said?" He asks quietly.
"She's not the first one. She won't be the last one."
"You should've told me you heard that," Neil mutters. "I don't care what she says, Andrew. I don't care if the whole world wants to bang on my door and tell me shit they know nothing about. It doesn't matter to me. What they think doesn't matter to me," he grits for emphasis. "It shouldn't matter to you either. It never has before."
"Maybe that's the problem," Andrew says, letting that dormant anger seep into his voice. "You have to tolerate shit like this instead of being with a guy like Ryan. How do you explain that to your friends?"
Neil's shocked into silence. "What?"
"That's what I don't get, Neil. You have a perfect life in Boston. A great apartment, a pet, a job," the voice that comes out of Andrew's mouth is robotic and cold. Neil's brows tighten with every word, but Andrew can't stop himself. "And there's Ryan. Ryan's kind to you. Ryan cooks well. Ryan talks to you about exy. Ryan lives in the same town. Ryan's patient, agreeable, good looking. Ryan's polite. Don't you ever ask yourself why you wouldn't want that, Neil? What are you tolerating instead and for what?"
Neil's breath trembles but he doesn't back down. "If you're saying all this shit to try and convince me that you're in any way worse, it won't fucking work, Andrew," his voice is weak but he keeps going.
Andrew shoots to his feet and digs a finger in Neil's chest. "That's why you're a moron, Neil. That's what I don't understand about you."
"You don't need to understand it," Neil growls, reaching for Andrew's wrist but stopping himself, his hand tightening instead into a fist. Andrew knows in his core it's because he told Neil not to touch him earlier and the realization of it only makes him angrier. "You don't need to understand why I don't want anyone else but you. But it's true and that's how I feel." His fist shakes before he slams it on the table. "But hey, you succeeded," he grins but it's not Neil's smile. It's a cruel thing Andrew knows Neil's fought for years and years to get rid of. "I'm mad at you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been at all mad at you." There's a glisten in Neil's eyes that's new, too. Somehow, realizing that Neil might shed tears over this stops Andrew in his tracks. Neil leans close and Andrew stands, immobile. Up close, Neil's face twists into something ugly and pained. Andrew's instincts call to cup his face, press his palm against Neil's neck and help him breathe. But Neil's eyes swim and his mouth wobbles. Seeing Neil so hurt and knowing who hurt him, there's a new source for his anger now that he doesn't know how to deal with. "I can't stand seeing you talk this way about yourself. You're everything to me, Andrew. Fuck you for doubting it. Fuck you for trying to make me doubt it."
A tear escapes Neil's eyes and Neil blinks, leaning away, as shocked as Andrew. He wipes it off quickly with a lightly trembling hand. A moment later he's walking away and the bathroom door shuts with a slam.
Andrew's left standing at the fully set table. Seeing it, food barely eaten, just pisses him off more. Everything is pissing him off. He's angry at Neil for valuing Andrew so highly. He's angry at himself for hurting Neil when he does. And there's a deeper feeling in the pit of his gut, a rare one. Andrew's not sure he's ever felt guilty before, but the feeling is palpable, and it's itching at his chest, crawling up his throat with a word he never thought he'd have the urge to say. Andrew has never felt bad about anything he'd done in his life, and Andrew has done a lot of bad things. But this...
King meows at his feet and Andrew's fingers twitch at his sides. He can't be in that apartment anymore. He doesn't even feel like himself at the moment. What can he do about it? The only person he can get a sense of himself with is the one who is hiding from him now.
When he hears the water stop running, Andrew's moving before he has any idea what he's doing. As he turns into the hallway, the bathroom door behind him opens.
"Where are you going?" Neil asks, there's a hint of surprise in his voice. Andrew's looking at his boots by the door, neatly slotted beside Neil's sneakers, and he has no answer. "You're not the runner, Andrew. We aren't done here," He says, voice tightened to hold itself together.
Andrew's teeth press together as he turns to face him. "I can decide when I come and go, Josten."
"You can leave after we're done," Neil snarls.
"I'm done."
"I'm not."
"That's not my damn problem."
"Well, make it your problem!" Neil faces him head on, any redness beneath his eyes gone for now. "You don't just leave in the middle of a fight. We are going to talk about this."
"Stop with your fucking this," Andrew snarls this time. "You're living in a made up dream. Pretending I'm something I'm not. Pretending we're in something we aren't. There is no this. This is nothing. If you want that bullshit, he walked out the door about fifteen minutes ago."
Neil lets out a laugh but it's in no way humorous. "Great speech, Andrew. And really, if you believe it, if you believe that the last seven years of our lives have been nothing, you can show yourself the door," Neil's voice shakes as he speaks. All of the emotion is still there and his eyes are brilliant with feeling. "But if you know how much of an idiot you're being, you better stay, Andrew. You better stay and talk to me, damn it!"
Andrew looks at him for so long and Neil looks back the whole time, nostrils flared and lips tense. He's holding himself together with everything he has and Andrew can tell how serious he is and wants to give back the same. That's what he's always done. That's how they've always worked. How did he get them in this situation?
Andrew moves slowly, towards Neil. When he's close enough, Neil lets out a shallow breath that leaks tension out of his whole body. Andrew has seen Neil in a bad mood, has seen Neil frustrated, has even seen Neil truly angry. This is more than that. This is Neil afraid. The same paralyzing fear he'd seen on his face when Neil asked the Foxes if he could stay. Standing in front of him, looking at him, Andrew feels like an utter idiot. He did this to him. And for what?
He watches as Neil licks his dry lips. "Thank you," Neil says quietly, and Andrew lets in a sharp breath, teeth tight just so he doesn't scream at him. Why does he tolerate this? Did they grow up with all that pain just to continue craving it in adulthood? Ryan wouldn't treat him like this. Neil lets himself be hurt like this. Why? Andrew wants to leave. He ought to walk through that door, but a deep knowledge keeps him standing still. Neil's the best thing to ever happen to him and all of this is so, so stupid.
"You're an idiot," Andrew says quietly.
"Yeah? Well, you're not any better."
"Ryan is."
Neil's jaw tightens. "Don't start with this again-"
Andrew takes a step towards him. "Why shouldn't I? Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"I already told you-"
"And you're not making any sense!" Andrew's voice is a low growl and a hand goes out slap the wall beside Neil’s head and King skids somewhere in the apartment. Andrew leans closer. "I'm not better than him. I'm not going to treat you better. There will always be shit in my head that makes me act like a monster, other people see it, so why don’t you? Are you so used to monsters that you can't see beyond it, Neil? Do you like me hurting you?"
"You don't hurt me," Neil returns, eyes flashing, angry. "You never hurt me. You're the only person in the world who understands me and does what's best for me. I know monsters, Andrew. I've seen them, I've lived with them, I’ve survived them. You know this," his hands go up to Andrew's forearm and he fists his fingers in his sweater. "You were an asshole tonight, I won't deny it. But you haven’t hurt me since you let me into your life and told me to stay. Not a single time, Andrew. And I don't care about Ryan. I don't give a shit if I never see him again. But I can't stand the thought of spending a single day without you in my life. You're the best thing to ever happen to me. You're so... you're exactly what I want, what I need, and I am so lucky to have you-"
"Shut up," Andrew's voice is weak. He can't believe what he's hearing.
"I don't want to," Neil hits his chest with both fists. "Clearly we don't tell each other this enough and you need to hear it or you would’ve never acted this way." Neil's lashes stick together and Andrew's dumbfounded at the sight. "The whole world can tell me who's better for me. And even if I hate that they don’t get it, Allison and the rest can say whatever they want about us. But not you, Andrew. Not you... You... You brought me the best years of my life and I want more and more and more and you're so good," Neil's eyes close tightly and Andrew's hand splits from the wall to fall on the back of Neil's neck, squeezing the way he’s used to doing when Neil’s breathing is labored. "You’re so good to me.. so good for my life. I don't want anybody else and hearing you say that you're not good enough for me... don’t ever say that. You're not a monster, I know monsters, damn it, Andrew, you know monsters, so don't say that. And don't look at me like I'm lying to you. Don't look at me like you think I deserve anything better than you, when you're already-"
Andrew cups Neil's face and Neil shudders mid sentence.
"You know all of this, don't you? Did I need to spell it out?" Neil's fingers come to wrap around Andrew's wrists, pressing against his pulse. "You're the love of my life and nobody else matters. It's simple and it's what makes me happiest. And it's one thing if you don't want me but if you think you're anything less than that in my eyes, then you have to tell me, because I’ll remind you however many times-"
"Stop fucking talking," Andrew grits out, his grip tightening. "I can't stand you. How can you always make me so-" Andrew can't think of a perfect enough word and instead squeezes his hands for emphasis.
Neil hasn't opened his eyes yet, but he utters a small chuckle. "I have that effect on people."
Andrew holds him and just looks at him. His closed eyes and his damp lashes. There's a spray of freckles on his nose that Andrew loves to kiss. Loves.
"I don't want to lose you," Andrew admits quietly, almost against Neil's lips.
"You won't."
"You should be mad at me."
"I am, a little, but-"
"Shut up. You shouldn't let me treat you like this. You deserve better, Neil."
Neil's eyes open, a darker blue than usual. His fingers dig in. "Then do better. Don't throw me aside to someone who seems better. I know what's best for me and I'm so grateful to have it."
Andrew has an odd feeling that he knows exactly what Neil is talking about. Sometimes the thoughts haunt him at night when he thinks about it, the misery, pain, and loneliness of his past and the bright, promising future with someone he loves.
"Did you ever wonder about why I moved to Chicago?" Andrew asks all of a sudden. Neil's mouth hangs open, then he closes it to swallow.
"I thought it was because of Aaron."
"The Tigers have the worst offense line in Division One."
"I know," Neil whispers.
"And you never realized?"
"You never said anything."
"Stop being careful with me."
"It's not being careful," Neil asks. "I want you to have the space to let me in."
"I don't want any space from you, moron," Andrew's thumbs smooth the lines under Neil's eyes. “When Ryan-"
"I didn't ask him to stay."
"I know you didn't."
"Then ask me the important question, Andrew," Neil whispers, his grip has grown slack and he's caressing the underside of Andrew's wrists. His quiet voice has Andrew realizing how close they've gotten and he lets their noses brush before he closes his own eyes, forehead pressing against Neil and it's a calming sensation. It's home. It's everything he never knew he needed and everything he wants to keep.
"Move to Chicago with me. Yes or no?"
Andrew doesn't need to open his eyes to know Neil's smiling. "Yes. Of course, it's yes," one of Neil's fists comes back to land softly against Andrew's chest. "Is this all it was?"
Andrew lets go of Neil and steps away, opening his eyes to Neil's smile.
"Yes."
"I can't believe you," Neil says with a laugh but his smile turns wobbly. Before Andrew knows it, Neil is burying his face in his hands, shoulders trembling. It takes him another second to realize that Neil is crying.
"Um. Neil."
"Shut up," he groans into his hands.
"I can do better, but I still don't know what to do with a crying person."
Neil laughs, but it's muffled into his hands. "You make me feel so much, I don't know what’s happening to me. I haven't cried since I was seven years old."
"This is why everyone wants you to talk to Bee."
"Yeah? When's the last time you cried."
"I'm not the one having a mental breakdown.” Andrew steps back to Neil’s side. “Can I touch you, yes or no?"
"Always."
"Don't-"
"It's a yes, Andrew."
Andrew's fingers sink into Neil's hair and he cups his head, feeling his body tremble under his touch.
"I shouldn't have treated your friend like that," Andrew says finally.
"Wow, it took me having tears and snot running down my face for you to say that."
"Don't expect a better apology."
"I didn't expect one at all."
"But you should. I should've spoken to you and I should've made my feelings clear."
"Your feelings," Neil sniffs and finally moves his hands away from his face to meet Andrew's studying gaze, wiping his nose with his sleeve. It's gross, but right now Andrew doesn't care. "I remember an Andrew who claimed not to have those."
"Yeah, well, things change."
Neil watches him for a long minute. His eyes and nose are tinted red. He's damn beautiful even when he's not expected to be.
"Yes or no?"
"Just kiss me," Neil says and Andrew leans in, cupping Neil's head to grant him a salty kiss, filling the space of their mouths with words he was still unable to say.
"I was serious, Andrew. It's just you. I won't ever want anyone else."
"You don't know that-"
"I know it," Neil repeats.
Andrew sighs. “I rented the place by the park to see if you’d like Chicago.”
“I don’t care about Chicago, I only care that you’re there,” Neil replies stubbornly. Then kisses him again. “But the park really was nice.”
“You can still be friends with Ryan.”
“I don’t think he’s going to want to anymore.”
“Then it’s his loss.”
“Is this what it takes to have you finally be so nice to me?”
“I just don’t want to see any more snot on your face.”
“Maybe I’ll cry whenever you’re nice to me.”
“Then we’re going to have a serious problem.”
Neil laughs, watery and sweet. “What if I tell you I feel so weepy I want a brownie right now?”
Something floods Andrew’s chest enough to have his breath hitching. The conditioning worked. Neil's finally craving sugar.
“You’re the embarrassing one,” Neil snorts.
Andrew makes to leave but Neil quickly grabs his sweater. “Andrew, wait.” Neil looks at him for a long minute, his lips chapped and parted. Andrew waits. “I wasn’t lying before.”
“I know you weren’t.”
“Not even about the being in love with you part.”
Andrew’s own hand goes up to Neil’s hand on his chest. “I know.”
“And that’s okay?”
Andrew swallows. His whole vision is Neil and it’s the most okayest thing in the world. “Yes, that’s fine.”
“Because I want to tell you more often.” Neil’s determined, fingers tight in Andrew’s sweater.
Andrew huffs a small, shallow, genuine laugh. Neil’s eyes light up and he grabs Andrew’s face to pull him in.
“I can’t wait to move to Chicago with you,” he mutters before kissing him. “Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with just you,” he says. “Just us three.”
“You,” Andrew kisses him, “me,” he kisses him again, “and my people problems.”
“Actually, I meant King. And don’t worry about any of that baggage, we both have enough of that to share,” Neil grins and Andrew sighs, kissing his cheek before taking his hand and pulling Neil with him.
Later, when they're filled to the brim with brownies, stomachs warm, and legs tangled on the coffee table in front of the couch, Andrew runs his fingers through Neil’s hair and murmurs, “I can’t wait either.”
“Three more months,” Neil says.
“Your contract is already in my email.”
“Since when?”
“A month ago.”
Neil sits up, staring at him, and Andrew’s hand falls to his shoulder refusing to separate. “You haven’t asked me for a month? Did you really think I’d ever say no?”
“You’re usually the one asking these questions.”
“I didn’t even ask you why you were only in St. Louis for half a year.”
“St. Louis is boring and Chicago’s offense is pathetic. I said if they sign me early, I’d get them Neil Josten. They didn’t believe me with all the shit the press is writing, but they didn’t want to lose the chance of me joining, so they took me on.”
“So it was never Aaron.”
“It was a little Aaron.”
“Little Aaron,” Neil snickers and Andrew’s unimpressed look has him grinning harder. “You know, Matt always said it’s weird that we never fight. Maybe we need to do this more often.”
No, thanks, Andrew thinks. “Or maybe you just want an excuse to cry again.”
“Ha,” Neil smiles. “Don’t worry, I don’t ever want to fight with you again either.”
Andrew pinches his hip and Neil grabs his hand, pinning it to the sofa as he leans down to kiss him slowly, maneuvering to sit on his lap. Neil kisses up his jaw, and presses short kisses by his ear and whispers, “He’s right about communication being important, though.” The words come out in hot puffs of air against Andrew’s neck, drawing out a shiver. “I’m signing as soon as I can and then you’re never getting rid of me, yes or no?”
“Yes,” Andrew says, and it’s perhaps the happiest yes he’s ever said.