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FEBRUARY 20
Kevin holds the grocery cart steady while Andrew climbs in and settles cross-legged in the big metal basket, propping his elbows up on the sides and digging out his iPod. Neil shoots towards the produce with the grocery list they actually remembered to bring this time in hand, leaving Kevin to push.
A middle aged blonde gives Andrew a look, but Andrew doesn’t notice, so Kevin unleashes a few watts of his media smile, turning her disapproving frown into one of confusion. Kevin winks for good measure and the woman blushes and looks away.
“I saw that,” Neil says, dropping a bag of mandarin oranges and a giant bunch of bananas at Andrew’s feet before skipping off again.
Andrew finally manages to untangle his earbuds, and Kevin has to lean down so he and Andrew can each pop one in. They have been working their way through Andrew’s music for weeks to create the perfect running playlist for Neil.
“Too slow,” Kevin says to the first song - The Chemical Brothers he thinks. Andrew skips it, and the next one is bouncy. “That one is good,” Kevin says, crossing his arms to lean on the cart as he rolls Andrew down aisle two.
“Black Eyed Peas,” Andrew says.
Neil drops an armful of ramen packets and mac-n-cheese boxes in the cart and frowns. “You want me to get black eyed peas?” he asks.
“No,” Andrew says and shoos him with a hand flap.
“More like that,” Kevin says, swinging the cart as close as he can to the granola bars. He scans the back of a box and Andrew puts on something even bouncier. “Yes, that,” Kevin says, switching for a brand with less sugar.
Neil tosses in four different boxes of cereal.
“You really shouldn’t eat Lucky Charms,” Kevin says to the back of Andrew’s head.
“Eminem?” Andrew suggests, clicking on The Real Slim Shady and sliding his Lucky Charms out of Kevin’s reach.
“Oh, yes, that has good bounce,” Kevin hums, bopping his head. “He’ll think the lyrics are funny.”
In aisle four Neil drops cans of soup, boxes of dried pasta, and jars of sauce next to Andrew, and Kevin approves Outkast and The Offspring. In aisle seven Neil dumps a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread into the cart, and Andrew adds Missy Elliot and Green Day.
“Milk and we’re done,” Neil says.
“And ice cream,” Andrew reminds them.
“And ice cream,” Kevin agrees. They roll through the dairy case, snagging a gallon of 2%, and on to the freezer section to find the Ben & Jerry’s section occupied, an exhausted looking man rolling a pint of vanilla in his hands.
Andrew pops out his earbud. “Not that one,” he tells him.
The man looks up, and Kevin catalogues the dark circles under his eyes, the odd array of items in his basket. Kevin wonders not for the first time what kind of deranged gang they look like: scars and face tattoos and a tiny goth in a shopping cart.
Andrew rolls up to his knees and points. “Phish Food is a good bet. Or Half Baked.”
The man frowns at the freezer. “She likes caramel,” he says, then looks back at Andrew hopefully.
“Karamel Sutra,” Andrew says. Neil hops forward and grabs it for the man. “Get her some marshmallow fluff to go on top,” Andrew suggests.
The man nods and smiles gratefully. “Thanks dude.”
“Fluff’s on aisle seven,” Neil adds. When he’s gone Neil grabs one each of Phish Food, Peanut Butter Cup, Mint Cookie, and a lone Coffee Haagen Dazs for Kevin. “Does it count as small talk if you just wanted him to get out of the way?” Neil asks Andrew as he dumps the pints of ice cream in his lap.
“It counts,” Kevin says, steering Andrew and the cart towards check out.
FEBRUARY 21
“Ça va, Kevin?”
Kevin startles a bit at that voice, sultry and soft and oh so French. He slides a finger to the middle of the paragraph on the fall of the Ottoman Empire to hold his place before blinking up at Ava. It is disorienting to see her out of context, hand propped up on the heavy library table inches from his own. Her hair is twisted in some complicated long braid that drapes over her shoulder, and Kevin briefly indulges the memory of those silky black strands between his fingers.
“Ça va bien,” Kevin says.
“Salut, Ava,” Neil pipes up from the end of the table. Ava throws a "S alut, Neil," his way without taking her grey eyes off Kevin. Nicky is staring at Ava with a gleeful look on his face, clearly about to open his mouth, and that is really not what Kevin wants to happen right now.
“Demain c'est ton anniversaire, non?” she asks him.
Kevin nods.
“Alors...vais-je te voir ce week-end?” she murmurs
“Hi Ava,” Andrew cuts in abruptly. “I’m Andrew. This is Aaron, and Nicky.” Aaron inclines his head and Nicky smiles brilliantly.
“Hello Andrew, Aaron, and Nicky,” Ava says, amused.
“How do you know these disasters?” Andrew gestures at Neil and Kevin.
“I am the TA for advanced French literature.” She winks. Neil leans a little closer to Andrew, and if Kevin didn’t know better he’d say he is staking a claim. Nicky starts to open his mouth again and Kevin is suddenly rather desperate to separate his occasional fuck buddy from his family by any means possible.
“Andrew and I will be in Austin this weekend,” he says. “So, no.”
“Recruiting trip,” Andrew adds helpfully, his arms crossed over his chest. He is looking at Kevin and not Ava. Neil is smirking into his notebook.
“So, Ava-,” Nicky starts.
“I’ll see you in class next week,” Kevin cuts in loudly. Kevin is, as a rule, not very loud off of the exy court, which might be why every set of eyes around his table snap to him in that moment, and someone from two tables over shushes him dramatically.
Ava stares at him for a moment, smiles, then taps a few fingers on his arm to make a point. “Sans doute,” she murmurs quietly, then, “pleasure to meet you all,” to the rest of the table, and she is gone.
Nicky leans forward and tugs on Kevin’s book when he tries to go back to his paragraph. “And who was that gorgeous creature?”
“And why was that so awkward?” Aaron adds with an eye roll.
“Just a friend,” Kevin says, ignoring Andrew’s gaze boring a hole in his cheek.
“Bullshit,” Nicky crows, and they are shushed loudly from a different table this time.
“Nicky. Leave it. He said just a friend,” Andrew says.
“Yeah, friend with benefits,” Nicky mutters.
Aaron snorts softly, and Kevin buries his face back in his history textbook.
FEBRUARY 22
Kevin knows he’s a good mimic. He likes to think he’s getting better at latching onto the right things to imitate. Fake it till you make it, they say. It sounds dumb, maybe, but he’d found his courage by first pretending it was already there, by watching Neil. Mimicking him.
Kevin doesn’t remember when that courage started to become a real thing instead of a mantle he tugged tightly around his shoulders each time he walked off the exy court. But it is his now. No longer a mantle but something hard won and intrinsic, wrapped around his spine and his bones in a way that cannot be stolen from him.
And it isn’t just his courage he’s found.
Kevin pays attention. Watches. Picks out the pieces of Andrew and Neil, of Wymack and Abby - of all the Foxes, really. Elements of himself reflected in the mirror of a family he never thought he’d get to have. He takes the bits that look like him, tries them on, tests them out, uses the ones that feel right to spackle himself together.
So by the time this birthday rolls around, Kevin has spent a lot of time considering the things that make him Kevin Day, but he’s yet to really understand what Kevin Day as a friend looks like.
The Foxes, though, are determined to show him.
After practice they corner him in the lounge and bombard him with birthday presents: a year long subscription to his favorite Exy streaming site from Dan and Matt, a book from Aaron that Kevin had mentioned he wanted to read, an “Exy is Sexy” t-shirt from Nicky, a gift certificate for a sports massage from Renee, and a set of ten tickets to see the Charlotte Bobcats play the New York Wolverines next week.
The Wolverines are Kevin’s favorite team.
“This is too much,” Kevin says, looking back and forth between the tickets and Allison once he realizes what he’s holding.
“It’s exactly enough,” Allison counters with a hair flip. “Besides, it’s not just for you. We’re all going with you, obviously.”
Kevin is a little overwhelmed.
“I’m not sure why this had to be a thing,” Kevin says to Neil as they settle into two chairs at the end of a very long table at Kevin’s favorite Greek restaurant no one ever wants to go to. Abby and Coach and Bee take up residence on the other end, with the rest of the Foxes - and Katelyn - filling in the seats between.
“Compromise,” Neil says.
“What?” Kevin asks.
“Compromise,” Neil repeats, flipping open the menu. “Dan and Matt wanted to throw a party in the dorms. Andrew talked them out of it. Abby and Coach wanted to have everyone over and do a cookout. Andrew talked them out of that too.”
Kevin considers this. It’s a lot of Andrew talking on his behalf. “Did he do that for his bet?”
“Stop asking stupid questions,” Andrew says into his ear as he settles next to him.
“I just don’t get it,” Kevin says.
“They’re Foxes and it’s your birthday,” Andrew says with a shrug, like that explains it.
Neil sighs. “Andrew knew you’d hate a dorm party, and if we went to Abby’s we’d end up there all night, which wouldn’t be a bad thing but-”
“But,” Andrew cuts in. “Neil assumed you wouldn’t want to skip night practice on your birthday.”
Kevin lights up at that and Andrew rolls his eyes and cuts a look at Neil. “Junkies, the both of you.”
Dinner is good. Kevin indulges in the moussaka, instead of his usual grilled chicken. He eats his carrot cake, and doesn’t blush when Nicky insists that they all sing happy birthday loudly and publicly.
The quiet of the court that night feels like home, and he smiles privately to himself when Andrew gives his full attention to their drills and to his goal, which is a gift all in itself.
Kevin is perfectly tired and satisfied when he crawls into the back of Andrew’s car at the end of the night, and has just tilted his head back against the leather of the seats when a bundle of fabric hits him in the face.
“Happy Birthday,” Neil says, twisted in his seat with a smirk on his face. Andrew watches him in the rearview, engine idling as he waits. Kevin shakes out the hoodie. It’s a deep ruby red, soft and thick, with the Trojan gold helmet on the front. He turns it around and lets out a startled laugh when he finds KNOX in giant gold letters and under that 01.
“Assholes,” Kevin says fondly. “I love it.”
FEBRUARY 23
“Did you pack?” Andrew asks.
“Mmmm.” Kevin has one earpod in, simultaneously downloading the playlist they’d finished into Neil’s iPod Shuffle and watching clips of Mishe Chaplin locking down the goal at his game last Friday. “Come look at these clips from Mishe’s last game,” Kevin says without looking up.
“No,” Andrew says. “Pack.”
“He shut down the goal,” Kevin says.
“Pack,” Andrew repeats.
“You haven’t watched these new clips though,” Kevin says, struggling to keep the frustration out of his voice. “He’s really good.”
“I know,” Andrew says drily. “We would not be flying out to recruit him tomorrow if he wasn’t.”
“Fine,” Kevin says, pausing the clip. The playlist had finished, so Kevin closes out iTunes and tugs the cord loose. “I’ll pack, then you watch these clips with me.”
“You have no bargaining power here, Day. I do not actually care if you walk on the plane tomorrow morning with your spare pair of boxers in your hand.”
Kevin blinks at that. “I left my duffle in Columbia.”
Andrew’s sigh is dramatic. He pushes the door open, pokes his head out. Props on the frame and waits. Kevin has the odd impression of a crocodile with his jaw cracked wide, setting the trap for an unsuspecting egret.
“Oh, Allison,” Andrew says.
“Oh, Andrew,” Kevin hears her sing-song back to him.
Egret located.
“Kevin is hoping to borrow your duffle.”
“The Louis Vuitton?”
Egret intrigued.
“The Prada,” Andrew says.
There’s a pause and then, “Good taste. Come on.”
Egret captured.
Andrew disappears and Kevin barely has time to restart the game clips before he’s back.
“Two birds one stone,” Andrew says, dropping a bubblegum pink leather bag on the desk.
Kevin frowns at the really fucking pink bag, but keeps his mouth shut when Andrew swipes the iPod Shuffle off his desk and sweeps out of the room. He hears the roof access door bang closed shortly after, and well, yeah, he’s not surprised Neil and Andrew want some alone time before they are separated for two days.
Kevin maximizes his media player and starts the clips again. He’ll pack later.
FEBRUARY 24
“Kevin.”
“Kevin.”
“Kevin.”
Kevin’s brain is lazily considering coming online and figuring out how to reconnect to his mouth when suddenly a firm grip wraps around his ankle and pulls him half off the bed.
“Fuck, I’m up!”
“Are you?” Andrew’s reply comes, amused.
“Ummmhmm,” Kevin mumbles, already slipping back into sleep.
“Kevin.”
“Kevin.”
“Kevin.”
“UNNGH,” Kevin half shouts, as one more hard tug lands him on the floor. He vaguely registers a laugh that does not belong to Andrew and blinks one eye open.
“I didn’t know this was still an issue,” Matt says. From Kevin’s perspective on the floor Matt is standing impossibly tall next to Andrew, grinning down at him.
“Not a morning person,” Kevin grumbles.
“I can see that,” Matt says.
“Six A. M. flight was not my idea,” Andrew reminds him, shouldering the bright pink bag and his own black duffle, before turning to Matt. “If you prop him up against the kitchen wall and hand him a coffee, there is a fifty-fifty chance he won’t fall asleep standing and spill it all over himself.”
“That was one time,” Kevin says, trying to peel his other eye open.
“I’ve got this,” Matt says affably, hooking his hands around Kevin’s wrists.
“Where’s Neil?” Kevin asks, a little dizzy after Matt hauls him bodily to his feet like he weighs nothing.
“Running,” Andrew tosses over his shoulder. “Matt signed up for morning duty.”
“I’m not a child,” Kevin says, even as he sways sideways and collides with Matt.
“You were right Andrew, totally worth it,” Matt says, laughing, and Kevin reminds himself to glare at both of them as soon as he can convince both eyes to open at the same time.
FEBRUARY 25
This is not going how Kevin planned.
Though, he should know better by now. If the Foxes want to recruit you it’s not just because you play well. There’s a profile that Coach insists on. Kevin gets it - he does. Without his dad’s agenda, the Foxes wouldn’t have Andrew in goal, and Kevin wouldn’t have Neil at his side.
But.
Miche stares at him, stoic, arms crossed over his broad chest. Coach has wrapped up his spiel, Miche has said nothing, and Kevin is having flashbacks to when the Ravens tried to recruit Andrew.
Except.
Miche cuts his eyes briefly to Andrew again, who is leaning against the bleacher railing, face impassive and arms crossed in the mirror image of Miche’s. The talented high school goalie hasn’t been able to stop his gaze from drifting to Andrew several times over the last few minutes, poking holes in the credibility of his own stubborn sullenness.
Miche looks at Andrew with tentative hope flickering just in the corner of his eye. Kevin knows what that feels like. He makes a decision that Andrew may or may not stab him for later.
“Coach Wymack and I are going to discuss some things for a minute,” Kevin says haughtily, grabbing his dad by the elbow, and shooting a significant look at Andrew. Andrew’s answering glare could melt stone, but he doesn’t move to follow them.
“The fuck you doing,” Wymack asks when Kevin has steered them far enough away.
“Look,” Kevin says, tilting his head back towards Miche and Andrew. They are on the move, walking a lap around the outer court, and Andrew is talking.
Miche’s arms are crossed, his face still stoic, but his head is tilted the slightest bit towards Andrew. He is listening.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Wymack says. They watch them in silence. Miche eventually uncrosses his arms, and the two of them part as they pass the locker room. Before he disappears, Miche looks up, catches Kevin’s eye. Nods.
Andrew stops at Coach Peterson’s side and waits, his hands shoved in his pockets. Kevin can’t hear them, but he sees the high school coach talking, sees Andrew say one thing, and then he walks away, the coach staring after him, mouth dropped open.
“What did you say to Miche?” Kevin asks in the car ride back to the airport. Andrew hasn’t said a word since they left the high school, and Kevin can’t take it anymore. “Will he sign?”
“I do not know what he will do Kevin,” Andrew says.
“But what did you say to him?”
The silence stretches for so long that Kevin doesn’t think Andrew is going to answer, but then Andrew shrugs minutely and turns to look out the window. “I told him it was safe. With us,” he says finally.
“You talked to Peterson too,” Wymack points out.
“Yes.”
“What did you say?” Kevin prods.
Andrew has his pack of cigarettes out, is tapping them idly against his leg. “I suggested he arrange for a social worker to show up unannounced at Miche’s foster home,” Andrew says, all inflection gone from his tone.
“Fuck,” Wymack says.
Andrew doesn’t say anything else. Not on the plane, not in the jeep, not in the elevator up to their floor in Fox Tower.
Kevin knows him well enough to let him be, and to text Neil to be waiting for Andrew on the roof.
FEBRUARY 26
Kevin waits for Andrew outside of his sociology class, tapping his foot impatiently.
When he finally appears there’s a brunette at his side talking animatedly, Andrew nodding occasionally. Kevin’s so stunned he almost forgets to move his feet and he scrambles to fall into step next to them.
“She writes fan fiction,” the girl gushes. “She wrote me into one of her stories and sent it to me.”
“Sounds like a nightmare,” Andrew says.
Kevin winces but the girl laughs. “No it’s good, I swear.”
“I will take your word for it.”
“Good, because I am right. Later Andrew!”
“What was that?” Kevin asks when she’s turned the corner.
“Collateral damage. She has a new girlfriend. We are thrilled.”
“Huh,” Kevin says.
“The last one cheated. There was some discussion of murder methods and burial sites. Writing fan fiction is, apparently, an improvement.”
“Huh,” Kevin says again.
“Why are you here?”
“Oh! Coach Peterson called. Miche is going to sign.”
“Great. Another fucked up baby Fox for Neil to herd. I am so excited,” Andrew deadpans.
Kevin rolls his eyes. “He also sent a message for you, asshole.” Andrew doesn’t respond to that so Kevin presses on. “He said Miche has been pulled from his foster home as of this morning.”
Andrew stops walking and stares at Kevin. When he doesn’t say anything, Kevin adds, “He’s staying with Coach Peterson and his wife through the end of the year. Apparently they are registered foster parents, so. You told the right person.”
“I did not tell him anything,” Andrew says.
Kevin nods at his friend. “I know.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”