Fool

by Clouie

Summary:

Sometimes it pissed him off that he had these thoughts, but he just wanted this stupid, pretty, dorky guy to look at him and wonder what he tasted like. Sid wondered if Andy would want to get as lost in him as he wanted to get lost in Andy.

Sometimes it felt like losing, like wanting this one thing, one person was somehow traitorous. But it was a guilty pleasure, indulging in the thoughts, and he didn't have much in the way of good things in his life, so he let it slide. Let himself wander back to those daydreams about quiet moments and soft touches.

Notes:

Heads up and fair warning for eventual unhealthy relationship stuff, nothing too intense but definitely not healthy, also a good amount of swearing, alcohol and weed, and angst about neglectful parents

this is mostly based off of 'Fool' by cavetown, and that's also where the title comes from

edit 10/6/25 if you want to listen to the same stuff i listen to while writing then here you go

Chapter 1

No one expected very much, or anything out of Sid Phillips. Son of a drunken father, mother taken off with her daughter. He had his first tattoo at 16, first joint at 15, first drink at 14, plenty of other bad habits and “delinquent behavior” along the way. Not that the tendency towards explosives and the complete disinterest and disregard for education he’d had from childhood wasn’t “delinquent behavior”, but it was apparently more digestible to certain spectators of his life. Well. fuck them and their bad habits anyways.

Sid was sat at the very farthest edge of the soccer field over lunch, skullcandy headphones loud as they go, hanging around his neck, with a few of his usual crowd, debating whether they were gonna be able to meet up at eddie’s tonight or if it was too risky with his family in town or something. Sid wasnt that invested in the conversation, the arguing and objecting going on around him.

Whatever the decision would be, they'd tell him, sid always brought something worthwhile even if it was just someone else who had something worthwhile. That and they probably didn't know what it was like to meet up without him, he took any and every excuse to get out of the house, and always welcomed a chance to get stoned, or drunk, or just a chance to be distracted, to get totally enveloped in something.

But today, a standard, shitty fall day, wind knocking sounds out of the old metal bleachers, he was alright being on the edge of it. The clamber of his crowd, over the play calls from the field and both rackets partially lost under the scratchy notes of time bomb blasting from his cheap headphones.

So he drifted on the muddle of noises, totally sober, but checked out and not minding the view some of the soccer geeks painted. Though he always caught himself looking back at one particular figure.

He may have spent a lot of time playing pretend by himself when he was a kid but Andy Davis sure had grown up. They'd both been dorky, gawky looking kids, but davis had the particular discourtesy to take his baby blues and sandy brown hair and turn into an all american poster boy, while sid was left with coarse black hair, brown eyes and just enough muscle to make up for being on the short side of average.

But mister all american boys ended up a respectable 5'10’’ [and counting, knowing his luck], with a very nice physique from all his sports, decent shoulders, nice ass and strong thighs that Sid wouldn't mind finding his way between. 

In fact Sid was maybe a little too interested in Davis and the soccer team, if the pen hitting him in the temple was any indicator.

“Hey space case, Matt’s house at 6? That work for you dollface?” 

“Wherever the hell you guys end up ill probably end up there too, aint got fuck else to do. If i did i wouldnt be here would i?”

“Yeah yeah sid, act like you don't enjoy hanging out with us man,” Matt swats at his arm, getting Caleb in the process and that turns into a stupid slap fight. Eddie leaned out of his spot to try to avoid the idiots.

Sid aims a smack at Matt's head that makes a very satisfying sound and sends his messy curls bouncing.

“Damn, fuck sid, tryna knock my brain outta my head?” The slap fight ends, Caleb laughing at Matt's misfortune.

“I don't think you gotta worry about that Mattie, not much in there,” Matt turned and smacked Eddie for that one.

The bell screamed across the field and the soccer geeks packed it in. Sid sat back against the bleachers, pulled his headphones on and tuned the morons out.

 

They did end up at Matt's house that night, did all the shit they usually do, got high, played video games, Caleb brought pizza and Matt tapped out shitty beats on his drum kit before his mom started shouting up the stairs at them to knock it off.

It was something to do for a few hours but he eventually ended up right back in his shitty little room, debating another joint while one of the 5 channels they picked up played some crime show.

Sid usually had a hard time falling asleep, whether it was pent up energy, his dad drunkenly knocking into shit, or just classic overthinking.

Most nights that it was his stupid fuckin brain keeping him up it was about the future, what the fuck he’d do once he was no longer required to make an appearance at school. If it was a particularly bad night the only future he could see was in this bedroom, grey hair and high off his balls while his dad still cussed and banged and smashed around the house, a drunken warden. Or there was no future at all, just his room, and the certainty that he didn't exist anymore, but the warden still crashed around downstairs, with one more excuse to stay checked out.

But usually his brain kept him occupied with more tangible thoughts, some shitty apartment (sans warden), or a crappy janitor gig, maybe flippin burgers.

Best yet, anytime he got more than a passing glance at Andy Davis he spent his nights imagining sandy brown hair sticking up in every direction, dusty blue eyes squinted in the morning light, or at some inane movie late at night, imagined a head on his shoulder, hands tucked in his shirt, arm around his shoulders, some kind of contact. Those were the best, especially if he could fall asleep to them. If he went off script, imagined it at the movies or a burger joint or anywhere outside, anywhere in the real world, it all fell apart.

Sometimes it pissed him off that he had these thoughts, but he just wanted this stupid, pretty, dorky guy to look at him and wonder what he tasted like. Wanted him to wonder how it would feel to have his arm around him. Sid wondered if Andy would want to get as lost in him as he wanted to get lost in Andy.

God it was frustrating, it’s not like sid hadn’t gotten a little handsy with someone before, but he’d never gone beyond casual making out with whoever made eyes at him at a party. He wasnt even sure if he wanted more than that, usually there wasnt enough interest to go beyond a couch make out, but that dumb brunet interested him, made him want to make out and hang out and fucking cuddle and go on impossible dates.

Sometimes it felt like losing, like wanting this one thing, one person was somehow traitorous. But it was a guilty pleasure, indulging in the thoughts, and he didn't have much in the way of good things in his life, so he let it slide, and let himself wander back to those daydreams about quiet moments and soft touches.

Chapter 2

Another Friday night, another party at a house he'd never been in before, owned by people he probably didn't know beyond a passing recognition. He had claimed what was either a particularly small love seat or an implausibly wide armchair. But it was part of a mismatched set of furniture, rounded out with lawn chairs, that was set up in the basement.

The ceiling thumped with music but also the drunken stomping of several dozen high schoolers. Someone had hooked up some video game on the box tv across from the broken in sofa that sat to Sid's right. He had a view of the clashing characters on the tv, or of the kids that trickled in, most stumbling, down the stairs. But, the way it always seemed to when he zoned out, most of Sid's attention focused on one person.

Andy Davis was one of the kids at the bottom of the stairs, laughing and taking regular sips out of a red solo cup. He was making sweeping and dramatic gestures throughout the conversation, it all made Sid want to tease him so badly. From his tidy hair cut to his clean blue button up - tee combo (rumpled as it may be), to his well kept all stars. Sid wanted to fluster him and get those pretty eyes on him.

Decision made, he crept through the gaggle of stoners and was careful to bump into Davis on a false exit of the room. When Davis swayed, catching his drink before he lost more than a drop, Sid took liberty to turn around and size him up.

“Well mister all American boy, are you allowed to be here? Isn't there something in your agreement with captain America that you have to be in bed by 8 so you can fight the evildoers with bright eyes and bushy tail?” Sid had his weight to one side, head cocked like he was wracking his brain, while Davis looked torn between amused and confused.

“Didn't know you were such a closet nerd, Sid. or that you were so interested in what I do with my free time,” the little glint in his eye may have been mischief, but it mostly felt like a challenge to Sid, and he didn't take challenges lightly.

“Well if the school's good little boy falls to sin I've got to know about it, cant look like I'm on level with a lightweight.”

That was definitely a challenge now.

“Is that so?” Andy's raised eyebrows and the amused tilt of his lips did nothing to the smirk on Sid's face. “You know just because I get good grades and make nice with the teachers does not mean I haven't been to a party.”

Sid knew that, could barely keep his eyes off him when Davis found himself in the masses of grinding teens that pretended they were dancing.

“Just cuz you had a beer behind your mommy's back does not mean you're hardcore”

“Alright Sid, just tell me you want to have a contest, stop playing coy, didn't think you were the type for that.” Whatever semblance of casual encounter was left fell away when Davis stepped toward Sid, barely a foot away now and offering his cup to his previous conversational partner who took it as a dismissal, grabbing the cup and finding somewhere else to insert himself.

Sid's blood was simmering, he was staring straight into Andy's eyes, the stair putting them just about equal, and all the interest and focus on him was heady.

“Whatever Davis, if you think you can keep up with me it's your own funeral,” Sid turned and made his way upstairs, weaving through bodies, occasionally shouldering through doorways that always seemed to attract the face suckers.

He didn't look back to see if Andy had followed him, when he got to the kitchen, loud with the music on the other side of the wall, but empty save for one guy making some abominable looking concoction to one side.

He grabbed a bottle of tequila, and a pair of solo cups, let Davis come into view as he set up on the opposite side of the kitchen.

“Tequila, that's your pick? More of a rum guy myself," Davis comes to a stop in front of Sid, hip against the counter.

Sid takes the chance, the decent lighting, to get a better look at him, the freckles clear, maybe the tiniest hint of stubble on his cheeks, chapped lips and his stupid, pretty lashes over his stupid, pretty eyes.

“Yeah, well tequilas better, we ain't doin mixed drinks, there's gotta be some burn,” he poured them each about a shot into each cup. He set the bottle down and picked up his own cup, held it up for a mock toast and tossed it back, then watched Andy do the same.

He took it pretty well, went down in one go and the hiss afterward is obligatory, but there was no flailing or gagging.

“How about a couple shots, then a mixed drink and we’ll go from there,” Andy said, setting his cup down closer to Sid for him to refill.

Andy kept up with Sid, there was another shot then they each nursed a double with some sprite while they watched other party goers mix horrendous looking drinks whenever they wandered in.

It was a surprisingly comfortable time. Sid had a hard time believing this was happening, but here he was, drinking with Andy “boy next door” Davis.

He poured them each another drink, and decided he’d try his luck, jerking his head towards the door before making his way from the kitchen and past the throng of bodies in the living room, out the front door.

The house had a pretty good chunk of land around it, enough space from the neighbors to have a copse of trees around it, and a pretty large driveway, full enough people had started parking on the grass before Sid got there.

“You leading me out to the woods to kill, cus id rather not, I got tickets to the movies this weekend and I’d hate to waste the money,” Andy was following a few paces behind, an obvious question in his voice, and Sid wondered what the hell he was doing to, but he just shook his head and picked through the cars to his crappy old pickup, the one his dad gave him the keys for after he got brought home by the police for being shitfaced in public.

He heard Andy's footsteps stall for a moment as he climbed into the bed, sitting with his back against the cab and sipping his drink.

“It's quieter out here, less drunk morons,” he kept his eyes on the treetops, picking out the stars that were visible without all the streetlamps.

Andy finally walked up to the truck, held his cup out, and when Sid took it he climbed in next to him.

Sid had his left leg straight out, right leg leaned up against side, Andy was loosely cross legged, his knee just resting on Sid's thigh, and that was another ridiculous thrill of the night.

“It is pretty nice out here, but we’re pretty far off sober,” he shot a teasing smile at Sid and it felt like the blows wouldn't stop coming, Sid had to be passed out and dreaming.

“Well I’m not about to drive, but I'm not as drunk as some of the chuckleheads in there.”

That got a soft laugh out of Andy. He took a sip of his drink.

Sid would’ve been happy to sit in silence all night, but Andy piped up every couple of minutes, sometimes pointing out an animal in the distance, or laughing at some drunk kid stumbling out of the house, and eventually they get into quiet conversation, grazes important things, Andy asks about his sister and his dog, gone and dead, respectively, and talks a little about his own sister and dog, annoying and old, respectively.

It's weird, Sid thinks, to sit like this, be close like this with someone he’s known most of his life but never shared this kind of space with. They’d never been friends, neighbors, then nothing, then classmates, barely, and now they were drinking in Sid's truck bed and filling in blanks that had been in the peripheral for a decade.

Eventually one of Andy's friends, apparently the designated driver, exits the house with a fist in some other guy's shirt and shouts at him to move his ass if he wants a ride. So Andy puts on hand on the side of the truck and the other on Sid's shoulder, gives it a pat, and pushes himself up, jumps out of the truck and turns to give Sid a little half wave and a smile before bounding out to his friend, his stupid overshirt whipping in the breeze.

Sid Phillips was so, so fucked.

Notes:

wanna say thanks again for picking this up, also that I'm not much of a drinker myself, so the brief bits about alcohol [and any bits about smoking as well] are poorly researched and kinda BS, so don't look too deeply at it, or if you have a suggestion that might be a viable alternative i'd love to hear, but i may not change it cus im lazy

Chapter 3

It became routine, if one of them was alone at a party they’d wind up with a drink in the back of Sid's pick up, sipping at it and talking shit about classmates, talking about whatever movie was coming out, or music, sometimes just enjoying the company.

It was an unassuming Sunday evening, and Sid was spending it the same way he spent most evenings he was alone, in his room, headphones blaring and scribbling out designs at his desk.

He was taking an air guitar break to properly enjoy Puddle of Mudd when he noticed his phone lighting up on the desk.

He couldn't fight the smile that crept onto his face when he saw the text.

>ru busy tonight?

<nothin i cant ignore

>be @ urs in 10

They didn’t text much, really, Sid couldn’t quite remember how they exchanged numbers. He’d woken up after one of the parties they spent in the truck with a text from “cowboy” saying he left a sweater in the bed of the truck and sure enough there was Andy's blue zip up. He hadn’t yet gotten the courage to ask about the nickname, because he honestly didn’t know if it was something he’d done himself, and didn't need that to be something Andy knew about him. But when they did text Andy usually gave a little more information.

Regardless, he pulled on socks and shoes, not bothering to change out of his ratty sweats.

Grabbed his cd player and swiped a bottle from his dad’s ever replenishing stash on the way out, tucked it behind the seat, and was just ready when Andy stalked up to the side of his truck. And this actually was the weirdest part. Obviously Andy knew where he lived, had lived in the house next door for years, but he hadn’t ever been to Sid's house. They'd done their thing at parties and there’d been a few times they took off after school and Sid would drive, then eventually bring Andy back to his car at the school.

Andy standing in front of the shithole that Sid called home was jarring, to be polite about it, so Sid ushered him into the car and cranked the key.

“So where to kid wonder?” Despite the fact that they were still parked, Sid felt more able to breathe in the more familiar car interior, got a real look at the other boy.

Andy looked tense, a slightly faraway look in his eyes, a conflicted frown on his face that really just made him look like he was pouting.

“Doesn’t matter, somewhere there isn't people.”

That's something to work with at least, Sid hummed and turned to pull out of the drive.

He took a few side roads, a winding path, to give Andy some time to relax, before finally pulling around to the graveyard which had a very convenient access road to the back, in a lightly wooded area, where they could see over the graves, at the right angle, but were hidden by some old money fucks mausoleum.

“Technically there’re people here, but they aren't very interested in what we're up to.”

Andy sighed and slid out of the car, grabbed the blanket from behind his seat and threw it across the bed to lay back on. Sid followed, leaving his goodies in the car for now, he needed to unravel this situation a little first.

“Okay, so we’re away from people, what's eating you?” Sid got himself situated next to Andy, who was sitting, knees bent, and hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. He looked somewhere between pissed off and nervous.

Sid nudged him with the toe of his shoe, let his head flop to the side and waited, if Andy had come to him and asked to be away from people clearly he had something he wanted.

It was a few minutes of waiting, Andy glaring out over the graves, Sid propped in the corner watching the clouds, when the brunet finally shifted.

“My mom is being a jerk,” Andy still had his head drooping, his arms had come up to rest on his knees, rolling his forehead against his forearm. Sid stayed quiet, giving him whatever room he needed, still facing the sky.

“We used to be really close and talk about, like, everything and, like, she knows I drink at parties and she trusts me and stuff, so I was talking to her about something that was kind of really important to me and like, totally shut me down. She never… ugh, I can’t believe her.”

Yeah, Sid was gonna be fuck all help with this. Finally looking back as Andy, he’d lifted his head, chin propped up now, definitely pouting now, but still looking stormy.

“I’m not much help with advice, especially for your suburban mom problem, man. And your super vague argument. Unless you wanna put bang snaps under the doormat or tag her car or something.”

Andy sighed, and they fell back into silence.

“I get where she’s coming from, but she’s just not understanding my point at all, she just sees her side of things. I don't know, I'll probably try to talk to her again, but I just didn’t want to be at home right now.”

“S’ tough. being around someone like that. She’ll come around, if you’re close like you said." Sid started levering himself up, out of the truck, which got Andy's attention.

“Gonna grab my cd player, what’s your pick?” Andy relaxed some more, like he was worried Sid was gonna take off now that his little heart to heart was through. It’d be tricky to get away from him, with Andy still curled up in the back of the truck.

“Uuh, I don't know, something not too heavy, maybe?”

With an eye roll he grabbed the cd player and his case, bringing both into the bed.

“truANT light enough for you?” Sid pulled himself back into his spot, dropping the cd player between them.

“I honestly don't know, I'll give it a try though,” Andy untucked himself a little, watching Sid picking through the cd’s and pulling one out.

Sid put the cd in, plugged in his earbuds, and offered Andy one, they had to sit shoulder to shoulder, which wasn’t exactly new but it was different being sober.

They sat in silence for the first few songs, by the the fourth song Andy had gotten more into it, bobbing his head and enjoying the beat for a while, and Sid got to enjoy the brush of his shoulder, the blush that brightened his cheeks when it started getting more suggestive. It was light but still made him look like a blotchy red mess and it was almost too much for Sid to handle. He was probably making some dumb face, but he enjoyed the sight.

They sat through the rest of the album, Andy clearly liking some more than others. By then the sky was darkening and Sid was starting to realize how long it’d been since the cold pizza he’d had for lunch.

“You wanna grab a burger? McDonalds would kill right now,” as the last notes drop off Sid pulls the player back into his lap, popping the cd out and back into its slot.

“I could go for a burger,” Andy leaned away, and Sid missed the warmth but the promise of food made him climb back out of the truck and tuck his cd player away while Andy stowed the blanket back into its place.

“Is that vodka?” Sid looked up at where Andy was eyeing the bottle just peeking out from under a hoodie he’d left in the back, mostly for this purpose.

“Wasn’t sure what you were looking for, thought I’d cover my bases.”

Andy took another moment to look at it before getting in the passenger seat, he seemed conflicted, but climbed into the passenger seat and brightened back up by the time they pulled up to the drive thru.

Notes:

truly i did not foresee the biggest challenge with this fic being sids taste in music, but unfortunately i was not in high school in the early 00s, so i must make speculations based on my own taste in punk/rock/metal genres and my older brothers unknowing help in music discussion. so just know that i have been debating what to have sid listen to at the beginning of this chapter for a month now. but once i put alien ant farm in i decided it was too much work to change it so that's there for the rest of forever.
if anyone's interested i am building a mostly vibe based playlist for this fic, lemme know if that's something we want.

Chapter 4

Notes:

i got some real sweet comments on last chapter, and promptly went afk, whoops. not my intention but unfortunately i have like a life or something, and also some uuuuuh anxiety and depression. so things dont always get done, but despite probable irregular updates i love this story and do intend to finish it [and ideally go back and rework some bits cus man im not real pleased with the first chapter]
anywho, this chapter is my favorite thus far, but also a pain to write because it felt janky as hell, i hope you enjoy it.
[also really interested what yall think the boys might listen to for music];

Sid had started keeping a second blanket in the back. When Andy made a comment about it getting too cold, one memorable evening when he had tried to fold the end of the blanket back over his legs and ended up almost in Sid's lap. It may have been a counter intuitive move, but he liked having their time together and frankly, sharing a blanket with Andy was still a win.

It was one early December evening, almost 3 months after the first time they’d sat drunkenly in the bed of Sid's truck. They were sandwiched between blankets, and Sid was enjoying the warmth and relaxation of the situation. Spending a chilly Friday night stargazing. Andy had mentioned he’d had another argument with his mom, probably was why they were still there as it was nearing 1am, despite Andy usually calling it around midnight. He didn't mind, keeping out of the house was his main goal too, he just got the added bonus of sharing space with the guy he was way too gone on.

There wasn’t any alcohol involved tonight. Sometimes Sid didn’t bring any, and Andy never did. Most nights there was something under the driver's seat, just in case. Sid knew a lot of the friends he had liked him for the products he could supply, and he didn't really know if andy was all that interested in spending time with him sober, but after the first night behind the graveyard he left it in the cab more often, brought it out for the occasional celebratory evening, or a commiserating one. A lot of the celebrating they did was about Andy's soccer games, and while Sid hadn’t been to one, hadn’t been invited to one and frankly didn't know what he’d do if he were invited, he was always happy for an excuse to take up his space.

They'd run into each other at a post game house party [Sid had sort of planned to run into him but he had been a frequenter of any and all parties in highschool, so he wasn't unexpected] and before sid had had more than half a beer andy had found him and decided he was too tired from the game to party all night.

So they made their way out and Andy climbed in the passenger seat, so Sid got in the drivers and rolled them out of the driveway and outside town, to one of their turn offs so they could set up in the back.

It was their usual shooting shit, mostly about Andy's game, a little of whatever gossip either one had. But a lot of it was spent in quiet. Sid didn't mind that either, it was nice, the feeling that he didn't need to be clever or funny he didn't need to provide an escape from reality, that Andy seemed to just want Sid beside him..

It was the comfortable silence of the night and the warm body next to his that saw Sid drift off to sleep in the early hours of a brisk winter.

 

Somehow the cold, ridged bed of the truck didn't wake Sid before the sun rose, even if it had only been a few short hours, they were spent sleeping at least half comfortably next to Andy. They’d both squeezed closer in the night, Andy must have hung on longer than Sid because he’d had the forethought to use his sweater as a pillow. Laying on his stomach, arms bundled with his makeshift pillow. The view was hard to look away from, slack face, little puffs of breath visible in the cold air, violent bedhead and rosy cheeks.

“Jeez, you're a mess Davis,” Sid said under his breath as he brushed a hand through Andy's bangs, gently pulling a lock between forefinger and thumb.

Andy made an aborted press into his hand then turned back into his balled up sweater, snuffling into it.

Sid couldn't think of a better way to spend a morning. Waking up and finding a leggy, pretty boy pressed up against him, cowering from the cold was second to none except maybe the sleepy smile Andy pressed half into the sweater and the droopy eyes that couldn't stay open long enough to call it eye contact.

Sid reached across Andy and brushed his thumb against his far shoulder. It got Andy to lift his head, and Sid brought that hand to the back of his head, just firm enough for Andy to get an idea of what Sid was doing.

He leaned in, watching blue eyes flutter for a moment and close before he closed his own and pressed a kiss to Andy's lips.

Andy pressed back and Sid could feel him exhale softly against him. Sid's chest felt full, clotted, in a good way. In an unbelievable way.

Still it wasn't a great angle and the kiss didn't last long, but Andy rolled on his side to face Sid and the next one was a much better angle.

 

They spent at least as much time together as they had before, but it was still limited by all of Andy's soccer practices, going strong 5 days a week, and the busy body had his homework on top of that, and sister sitting on top of that. So Sid squeezed what hours he could out of Andy's free time.

When winter break came around Sid was pleased, it meant there would probably be more Sid and Andy time, with no homework and no soccer practice, they might even get to spend a whole night rolled up in blankets in the bed of his truck.

 

The first time Sid and Andy smoked together felt like sinning. It gave Sid a headrush, to see Perfect, Pretty Andrew Davis hold the roll between thumb and pointer so casually. Andy said he’d smoked before but it was different, knowing and seeing. He still damn near hacked up half a lung, but Sid only ribbed him lighthearted about it, rubbed his back and everything.

Andy was giving him these big cow eyes when he passed the blunt back to Sid, somehow still with a mischievous edge to them.

Sid pulled a decent hit and held it for a moment, it sorta made him feel cooler, maybe got him a little higher. When he started releasing it he caught Andy's eye again, hard not to, with Andy watching him the whole time. So sid leaned that extra inch closer and when Andy's eyes dropped to his mouth, blew the smoke at him.

Andy immediately reared back and coughed himself silly, waving the smoke from his face.

“Ugh, you ass, what was that for,” Andy coughed again and stopped fanning the smoke so that he could reach over and smack Sid’s arm.

Sid was plenty amused though, he liked kissing andy but he wasn’t about to stop pulling his pigtails either, he always had a worthwhile reaction.

Sid took one more drag and stubbed it out on the truck, brushing off the debris, before carefully tucking it back away in the pocket it came from.

Andy had apparently gotten over the slight, because he leaned back into Sid's side, head tipped back to look at the sky. Sid just sank into it, let himself relax into it as the high hit.

He liked nights like this, not for the high, but being shoulder to shoulder with Andy, both of them relaxed and unhurried, knowing that if he wanted to he could lean over and kiss him, put his hands on his shoulders, or maybe in his hair or on his thigh. It was the most intoxicating part of their time together, the being together part. Because, until Andy decided he needed to go home to study, or if he brought up college applications or games, Sid could pretend that they were the same, that Andy was here next to him because he hated his life, or at least that seeing Sid was the best part of it.

Chapter 5

They didn't stay out all night very often, mostly because Andy was a Good Boy who obeyed his curfew, so they only really spent time together every other weekend, some nights Sid could coax Andy away from studying for an hour or two, but he was adamant about keeping his grades up through the end of the year, as though every other senior hasn’t given in to senioritis, with the first semester over.

Sid wasn't about to complain about the time they did get though, and he did still have his own life running in the back, just cuz he was regularly making out with soccer star Davis doesn't mean he didn’t still have parties to crash and people to smoke with and music to listen to.

He did spend a lot of time high or drunk, a little of both sometimes. It’s how things had been for years now, and he wasn't gonna start showing up for classes and reading fucking Beowulf this late on.

He didn’t know why he was still on the school roster honestly, outside of the ever important need to not be at home. He didn't show up or learn, it was just a bullshit excuse on the rare occasion his father was sober enough to ask questions. He couldn’t imagine them taking him back for another year, so that would be the end of his flimsy ass excuse.

He was staring down his last 6 months of high school and any time that particular thought popped into his head he made reach for a drink or a smoke whatever was closest. Anything he didn't like to think about like the future, or his dad, or drinking or working came to mind he found himself something to dull the roar and re-sort his thoughts. 

He didn't want to think about where he’d be in 5 years, and if that thought managed to slide into his brain it inevitably was followed by the sunny fucking mental image of Davis on some picture perfect quad, studying under a tree with a posse of polo wearing white picket fence assholes. If his brain was really fucked, it’d be Sid slouched on a beat up couch, clutching a beer and staring at shit daytime tv in a living room that looked like the one downstairs, with Andy staring dead eyed out the window like he remembered his mom would, back when it was the 4 of them. That particular mental image usually had him twice as drunk as he would’ve been otherwise.

 

Sometimes, instead of Andy pulling Sid away from his friends, he would watch Sid with his friends. And Sid would watch him back out of his peripherals. Usually Sid didn't give a shit about giving his party crowd attention, he’d much prefer to stargaze in his pickup, but keeping his connections open wasn’t a bad idea, so he’d watch Andy watch him make fun of the other potheads and occasionally not flirt with some girl who decided she liked his look or something.

The first time it happened while Andy was around put him a little on edge. As a general rule, most of the girls who hit him up were just trying to date someone who looked like trouble.

That first time a girl came up while Sid was watching Andy watch him it was some brunette, she was pretty, done up with the same makeup and too tight pants and low neckline the other girls all had.

She had sat next to him on the couch, close from tipsy clumsiness but also making eyes at him through batted lashes that made her objective pretty clear.

Before Andy Davis had climbed into the back of his pickup and shaken up his routine, Sid would’ve entertained her. Put on some show as bullshit as hers, flip out his lighter, or maybe flicked around his knife, given her some hood-eyed look with a head tilt, and they’d play coy for all of 5 minutes before she either made herself at home in his lap or tugged him away to some moderately darker corner, breathing the smoke off his breath and licking the sharp taste of alcohol from his mouth. 

The thought had crossed his mind, to give her that hooded look, coax her over and see what Andy would do. Would he turn red, would he cry? Would he not care? Fuck, maybe he’d even be into it. But getting pissed and storming off seemed most likely, he’d probably decide then and there that Sid was too much of a piece of shit to continue putting up with. 

That thought burned in Sid. Should he show Andy? Give him a taste of what Sid was, get Andy to see how useless the time he spent with him was. Drive him away and get the whole fucking thing over with?

Instead Sid kept his chin level and didn't let his gaze linger on the girl as he blinked over at a pair of guys starting up some stupid debate over fuck knows what.

It wasn't a minute later when the brunette, whether on purpose or just drunkenly, drew up against the couch, her arm falling across his shoulder and then beginning to play with his hair.

That was something he didn't want to put the effort in to ignore so he shifted up and lifted himself off the couch with some mumbling for the bathroom, but once he’d rounded the couch and made proper eye contact with Andy he bailed straight for the front door after him, eager to find out what Andy had in mind licking his lips with that look in his eyes.

It seemed Sid didn't even have to participate in flirting for Andy to want to stake his claim, even if only in private. Because once they’d made it back to the truck Andy had planted Sid firmly on his back, giving him a biting kiss while sliding the shirt up his stomach, caging him on and brushing his thumb over the elastic of his boxers where they peaked over his jeans.

Sid was breathless, he’d never seen this aggressive side of Andy before. What else could get Andrew Davis like this? Running his teeth over Sid's jaw and wrapping a hand in the hair at the base of Sid's head, just long enough to twist his fingers in so he could angle Sid's head how he wanted it. And Sid was happy to let him. He liked their usual kisses, making Andy look ruffled and messed up, the easy give and take they had. But Andy was taking kisses and pulling sounds and feelings right out of Sid, it was incredible. It was the most addicting thing Sid had tasted.

Notes:

a few things to say: i did not mean to drop off the planet, i don't really have good excuse though except that every time i tried to work on this fic my brain shriveled up and i couldn't get more than 100 words out. but i'm back for this chapter and have the next one almost done. [however i may be moving across the country so heads up there may be a wait between chapters]
also sorry that this ones on the short side, this is just how it felt most correct, it didn't want any more words. buuuuut things heat up next chapter so i let it be, because i wanted to put my effort into making that good

Chapter 6

Notes:

gets a little spicier this chapter, nothing crazy, but some making out and also some big emotions. just as a heads up <3

Sid's dad was out, drinking, gambling, whatever he was doing it wasnt at home, and he had a full kitchen of liquor and beer, so he wasn't making a pit stop.

They had planned to take the truck out for a while, but sid let an idea settle in his mind, not like he hadn't had it before, he’d just never entertained it, but instead of putting on his shoes and pulling his pickup round to Andy’s he shot him a text.

<dads out, we should hang here

Short and straightforward.

It was an impulsive decision but Sid had been picturing Andy in his room, his bed for too long to pass up the opportunity.

>if ur cool with that, i'll be there in 10

Sid felt too many things.

He looked up from the phone, scanned his room, decided he could throw the underwear and socks on the dirty pile but wasn't gonna clean, look too excited.

So he left the ashtray right where it was, the CDs that had fallen half under his bed, the tool box spilled all over the desk and around it stayed too, but he sifted through his DVDs for a few movie choices, for background noise if nothing else.

The knock on the door came and he set the DVD case aside, on the foot of the bed, before going to answer it.

He found Andrew Davis standing on his uneven front step, jeans, zip up and sneakers like always, but in Sid’s territory. Some punk’d, twilight zone shit.

Sid pulled Andy through the front door, leading the way up the stairs and right into his room. Too short a trip for what felt like such a big moment.

Sid picked the DVDs back up and showed them to Andy for his opinion and they debated while Andy shucked off his shoes. When Sid slid the Fast and the Furious into the dvd player and turned to find Andy looking comfortable propped against the wall in the bed, sans sweater. Sid was glad he’d followed his impulse.

They sat shoulder to shoulder for a good portion of the movie but eventually Andy slid his arm around Sid. Sid, while perfectly happy to initiate, very much enjoyed it when Andy was the one to start things off, to crowd Sid in instead of the other way around, especially with the sparkle that was making his eyes damn near glow blue.

If they ended up making out for the rest of the first movie, well they were only human.

He got up just to put on the second one and they were back and kissing before the previews could start properly.

Sid had taken the liberty of running one hand up and down Andy's side, rucking up his shirt and teasing his waistband, his other hand tangled in blonde hair and stroking his ear.

Andy, at the moment was hovering over Sid and the arm he wasn't balancing on was occupied running along Sid's stomach, apparently a special interest of his.

It was so much better being with Andy in his bed, it felt right, the plush give underneath him and having Andy pressed against him, hard muscle and smooth skin.

Sid could’ve lived the rest of his life right there. Time dripped by sweet and slow as honey and Sid was ready to drown in it.

Until the slamming door and the thud of boots hitting linoleum caught his attention and Sid felt all his muscles tighten at once.

He pushed Andy off him, glancing at the tv, probably halfway through the movie. He should’ve made Andy leave after the first one.

“You should get out of here,” Sid's head hung and he side eyed Andy's rumpled shirt and his sex hair.

Andy didn’t protest, he rolled off Sid, but took his time, sat on the edge, to lean over and kiss Sid slowly.

Any other time Sid would be pulling Andy back down with him, but downstairs the fridge slams and he pushes himself fully upright, desperate for something to occupy him. He grabs a half smoked cigarette out of the ash tray and lights it, pulling up the window and sticking his tool box into it to keep it open, since whatever shit mechanism was supposed to keep it open had broken years ago.

He blows a stream out the window and turns back to Andy, who turned away from him as soon as they made eye contact and got up to grab his shoes, yanking them back on and then his sweater.

He set his hand on the doorknob but turned to Sid, hesitant in a way they hadn’t been with each other, possibly ever.

“See you tomorrow?”

Such a small question, and an easy one, Sid didn’t know why Andy looked like that.

Sid nodded at him, took another draw and exhaled a “yeah,” not coming any closer as Andy nodded to himself, before turning the knob and leaving.

Sid listened to him walk down the creaking stairs, open and shut the door, politely, apparently none of it loud enough or bothersome enough for his dad to notice.

 

Two weeks after having Andy in his room the first time Sid is considering inviting him over again. A catastrophically bad idea? Maybe. But it was miles better than rolling around in the metal bed of the truck, a couple of blankets really didn’t offer all that much cushion.

The problem with that is his dad. And not just in the usual way that he’s a problem, but like, he never leaves. And Sid can get blazed and watch dumb movies and pretend he’s not there, but it’d be a lot harder when he’s rolling around in bed with The Boy Next Door.

His dad didn't give two shits about him, didn’t give two shits about anything that wasn’t his next drink or something at least mildly entertaining on the tv. Doesn't mean he wants to run the risk of his dad actually giving a shit.

But finally his dad’s out again, another mystery trip, but Sid's sick of waiting for a chance. So he texts Andy, does his once over of the room, and by the time he’s pulled Mission Impossible as a pick for today there's a knock on the front door.

It was the same startling image, blue eyed, blonde haired soccer star on his front step, looking happy to see him.

It’s the same short walk to his room, the same way Andy toes off his shoes, and drops his sweater on the chair. He holds up Mission Impossible and Andy gives it a nod, making himself comfortable on one side of the bed, but it's not more than 5 minutes into the movie that Andy is on top of him again, and Sid honestly couldn’t say who started it.

It was an endless give and take and sometimes Andy took a little more and it made Sid want to melt. He nipped and bit at Andy’s lips and then across his jaw, wanted to make him melt too, sink right into Sid.

They spent the whole movie trading kisses and getting handsy, Sid lost his shirt halfway through and by the time the movie had ended they’d traded places, Sid between Andy’s thighs, one hand stroking from his knee up to toy at the band of his jeans and then back down, the other cradling the back of his head, fingers twisted in the dirty blond mop.

Andy's hands were both holding Sid's face, cradling his jaw, thumbing his ear. It made Sid feel precious, it made him feel fragile.

When the credits ended and the title screen music played, Sid dropped his head to kiss down Andy’s jaw and neck, taking his time, wanting to bury his face there, he didn’t want to stop, he didn’t want Andy to leave. He wanted to leave with andy.

Andy pulled his face back up and kissed him sweet and gentle like he had last time.

Sid let him be gentle, let him pet his hair and treat him like something special, just for a minute.

He pulled away from Andy, his hands falling from Sid's face to the bed, while Sid stepped away, finding his shirt on the foot of the bed and pulling it back on.

Andy sat up on the edge of the bed, his arms were just long enough to hook a finger in sids belt loop, reeling him back in, sliding his arms around his back.

“Your dad’s not back yet. We could just lay down together, watch another movie. Or actually watch Mission impossible.” his voice was low, one of his hands, sliding up and down Sid's back, chin resting on his stomach. It was a tempting thought, almost as tempting as winding his fingers back into the blond hair and pressing him back onto the bed to pick up where they’d left off.

But Sid kept his hands to his sides as he pulled away and went over to yank the window open again, lighting a cigarette with the matchbook he’d left on his workbench.

He could feel the eyes on his back, but Andy didn’t move or speak, while Sid had his first drag off his cigarette.

“We could go get dinner, or go out in the truck, get high and watch stars and shit.”

It sounded good, and both options would normally entice him, but the offer felt like too much, he’d just tenderly made out with Andy for the last 2 hours. Andy held him and made big puppy dog eyes at him, and he just knew his dad would be home any minute, and certainly this time he’d have some reason to storm into Sid's room, and he’d find a boy in his bed who looked at him like he put the stars in the sky. Who had kiss bitten lips and sex hair and was missing a sock.

He bit the words out before he’d really thought them, but he got to watch as Andy heard them.

“I’m not your boyfriend Davis, get one of your soccer geeks to take you on a date.”

That was really all he needed to say, apparently, for Andy to realize he was the worst. For the dam to burst. For all their pretty little rendezvous to come to an end. Andy's face went from open and pouty to pissed in a second.

“Right, obviously you’re not my boyfriend, you’re just a casual acquaintance who comforts me when I'm sad, or celebrates my successes with me, or spends a whole night staring at me like you think I don't notice. You would never hold my hand or kiss me. Obviously you dont like me at all, it’s not like you completely ignore all the girls who flirt with you and half the guys who want to hang out with you just so you can freeze your ass off in the back of a pick up truck in the middle of winter with me before we had ever even kissed .” Andy was standing now, a step or two closer to Sid, chest starting to heave from his not very contained rage.

“Yeah, that's me. An acquaintance, it’s been great wasting time with you Davis, sometimes I have other stuff to do though.”

Sid didn’t know why he was still saying shit to piss Andy off, but now that Andy was angry, well, he only knew how to deal with angry people one way.

“You know what Sidney, just because you feel like the whole worlds against you, like you got the short end of every fucking stick there is, doesn’t mean you can treat me like shit! I’ve been right there with you for months now! ” Andy was fumbling around the room, ripping his sweater off of the chair it was hooked on, doing a full 360 to find where his sock had fallen. It would have been funny if every cell in Sid's body was blaring a warning signal. He didn't want to feel the panic or the fear that pressed in on him, so he let himself pretend it was anger.

“What just cus your fucking white picket ass is so much better than me and my shitty truck and my shitty house?”

Sid couldn't say what his goal was, other than to get a reaction, but he definitely got one from that.

“ Fuck Sid this is exactly what I’m talking about!” Andy tossed his hands in the air, sweater still clutched in one, making it that much more dramatic, “everything with you is either self pity or some fucking competition!”

“Never backed down from a competition before, have you Davis? Or you just sick of me?" Sid was still by the window, cigarette all but forgotten in his hand, ashing on the carpet.

There was a moment, where Andy stood there, shoulders tense, hands clenching and unclenching, before the free hand tugged its way through his hair.

“You know, maybe I am.”

Distantly, Sid heard the front door swing open, a small clatter, but it didn't register past the ringing in his ears.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go, Andy was supposed to push back at him, or get his shouting out and then give him a biting kiss, or tell him he was stupid and he’d see him tomorrow.

Except it was always gonna go like this and as surprised as Sid felt he had known this is how it would end, had tortured himself with it on bad days, had felt it close in anytime he made some stupid comment. The problem was he got used to Andy not doing what he was supposed to. He got to a point where he forgot that he was just a fun story for Andy to tell his new college buddies.

“Well then I don’t know what the fuck you’re still doing here,” it was level when it left Sids mouth, no shouting, no snarling, no fucking tears.

Andy's mouth tightened, it said disappointed, but not surprised. Oh what a familiar expression. Sid had just never seen it on this face before.

The door opened quietly, even its usual squeak went away under the hand of Andrew Davis, like he was above even turning a squeaky door handle.

Sid could hear him make his way downstairs, his father already sequestered drunkenly in front of the tv, well away from Andy's escape path. The front door opened and closed again, Sid didn't look out the window, didn't know what would happen if he did.

He sat there, wound up until some kids shrill screeching outside roused him.

He couldn't be here right now.

Notes:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
this is the big chapter, literally and figuratively, because there wasnt a place i felt comfy splitting it, and i didnt want to leave too big a cliffhanger, but also because this fight was one of the first things i wrote for this fic. i tweaked it to match better with how the story ended up going, but it's sooooo one of my favorite scenes, i am just obsessed with it. in fact it might be my favorite scene period. ANYWAYS. we're almost over, ive got 2 chapters left in the chamber, maybe 3 if they drag on again, but fair warning i have almost nothing written past this, so it might take an extra minute to get them out.

Chapter 7

Notes:

heads up, some of this gets kinda dark, specially at the beginning, so please take care of yourself, the boys do not handle emotions well, one of them in particular. also lots of cussing. oops?
also for those who care, sorry it's been a while, lifes always throwing crap at u, u know. wrote like 90% of this chapter last night in a frenzy and only waited til today to post it cus i was mad eepy and wanted to look it over to make sure it wasn't too fucked. working on the last(?) chapter tonight, hopefully will post by the end of the month.
enjoy.

Andy knew he was fucked a long time ago.

Sid had such a pull to him, he didn't take shit from anybody. And he was fucking hot, tattoos, piercings, combat boots, his pretty green eyes, the stubble he aways had, the smirk that curled his lips when he caught his eye from across a crowded room.

And maybe his mom had been right, that Sid wasn’t the same as him. Sid didn’t drink occasionally to have fun. Maybe he drank because it was the only way he knew how to have fun. Sid didn’t have sports or clubs or electives he took to learn or to flesh out resumes and applications. He skipped school and took remedial classes because that's all the school could offer him, and more than he was interested in.

But Andy still didn't want to believe that Sid was bad. And hell, he wasn’t a bad person , he just- wasn't a productive member of society. He spent most of his time high, didn’t attend school, didn’t have a job. Andy didn't know how to justify that. And he needed something. Every time he thought about the applications he’d sent out, the prospect of going to college, learning and becoming an adult, moving away, even if it was just a few hours, he could only picture Sid, high at some party, same people, same clothes, same remedial classes, same old truck, same smirk.

He wanted Sid to grow up. He liked Sid, he enjoyed spending time with him, and loved being sober with him. Maybe just loved Sid. But even if Sid felt the same way he wasn't changing, he wasn't meeting Andy where he was. Wouldn't even let Andy any further into his life than the bed of his truck

Andy wasn’t prone to crying. He was the man of the house, and he’d been through enough that some asshole who didn’t know how to care about someone shouldn’t make him that upset. But that asshole, and the asshole that left his mom because he didn’t know how to care about people, and the pressure of senior year. Yeah, all of that together laid him out.

 

Sid didn’t have a good reason to be at the party. He had a couple of terrible ones though.

It was a celebration, some end of season or whatever thing, or maybe it was a graduation party for the seniors, he didn’t know, but he had a pretty good idea of who would be there.

Sid hadn’t exactly dealt with any of the Andy stuff since the blow out in his room, which at this point was several weeks ago. He had gone several weeks without seeing Andy. He hadn't gone more than a week without having Andy pressed up against him in the back of his truck for 6 months and now it's been weeks without even seeing him and Sid had been trying to figure out how he lived before and what he did and was it always this bland and unfulfilling. Fuck, he’d never cared about feeling fulfilled before.

So he’d been alternating between laying in bed stoned and thinking about how fucking lame he is and what a piece of shit he is and how he’ll never do anything of worth and getting drunk and thinking about what Andy sounded like when he laughed and how he looked at night under stars and LEDs.

And now, like the piece of shit he is, he’s sort of, not really invaded the soccer teams whatever party, stuck himself in the corner with the potheads and is trying to be discreet about keeping an eye out for one soccer player in particular.

He wasn’t gonna talk to him or anything, he just hadn’t known how to keep himself from going to a place he could reasonably be to catch a glimpse of him. The potheads had chosen a good spot for once, decently apart but good crowd observing territory, so Sid did actually see him when Andy arrived.

Andy looked better than Sid did. He looked like he slept sometimes, like he wasn’t drinking himself into a stupor every day. He looked like he had a life, like people enjoyed spending time with him. He was laughing at something some brunet said as they walked in together, some other guy slapped his shoulder in that weird friend way.

Yup. That's the Andy Sid knew he would see, happy and healthy and smart and better without Sid wasting his time and messing with his perfect little head, perfect little life. God, Andy deserved that perfect little life.

Sid waved away the joint being passed to him and pushed out of the seat he was in, picking his way through the crowd. He didn't need to be here, he’d seen what he wanted, he could go get high or whatever in his own room now, maybe he’d just go park his truck out in the field and do it there.

He hadn’t tracked the little merry band of soccer stars, was just squeezing past the crowd, so didn’t even realize that they’d settled right in his path until Davis himself grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

Sid had no fucking clue what he’d want with him in front of his buddies, maybe was gonna make fun of him or play the bleeding soul. Sid’s ears ached just thinking about Andy’s voice, didn’t want to hear it.

“Hey Sid, had a question for you,” Andy had his Jock-sona on, nodded his head toward the very exit Sid had already been aiming for so Sid had no real way to decline, followed Andy through the rest of the house, then halfway down the lawn before Andy turned to him.

“I know,” he stopped, not meeting Sids eyes, like he had inside, "I know you don’t really care about school but the year is ending and if you did want to try to graduate you need to talk to the counselors before that happens. I just.. Wanted to let you know that the deadline is coming up for that kind of stuff. If it’s something you wanted to do.”

Andy was stood there, in the starlight and the bits of light that emanated from the house behind him. And Sid was not strong enough for this, as he looked back at Andy and knew that nothing he had to say was good enough, that nothing he could do would be enough that he just didn’t get to have any of this, it was never his anyway.

“Thanks, I'll make a note. Later Davis." Sid turned away, got to the drive and listened to his steps on the gravel, waiting for a second pair of footsteps, or a verbal response, but didn’t hear either, when he climbed into his truck and chanced a glance back Andy was still there, not looking at him, head tilted back, staring at the stars, so Sid looked away from Andy and started his truck.

 

Sid didn’t go home to smoke, and he didn’t park the truck in a field, he went to Caleb's house. It wasn’t a party place, but it was a decent smoke spot.

They were camped out in the garage, where Caleb was always working on his old rust bucket so the smell of oil and gas and whatever the fuck else hid the weed stench.

“Man you’ve been hanging with us way more the last couple weeks, your booty call get sick of you?” Caleb's tone was joking, as he relaxed against the old couch they were on, shoved into the corner, but Sid was too tired for joking.

“Something like that. Definitely sick of me.”

Caleb looked surprised, a cough and plume of smoke punctuated the reaction.

“Oh what so it was really one chick the whole school year, keeping you busy? You don't usually hook up with someone that long.”

“Yeah, well it’s over now so,” Sid took the roll back for a drag, he would never be stoned enough for this.

“What happened, I mean you seemed pretty happy and shit, we saw you less, but like, whatever, where is she?”

Where is she? Yeah, where is she.

“Getting ready for college, celebrating. Decided I wasn’t worth the time any more, or ever, I don’t know, doesn't fucking matter.”

“What, come on there's lots of shit you can do without going to college, you’re a good guy, I mean obviously you liked her.”

“Shut up man, I don't want to talk about this shit, it’s over. Not like I have much of a future anyways, who’d hire me, Jesus Christ, McDonalds wouldn't want me.”

“Fuck that man, hey, you decide you want it my brother works at the dump, they’re always hiring people, like to grab the bins for the truck and work in the yards, he’d hook you up man, just say the word!” 

Sid was way too tired and high for this shit, he just closed his eyes and ignored the idiot yapping in his ear, nodding off the only way he ever did these days.

Notes:

Hi, just wanna say thanks for picking this up. I haven't written more than 200 words in almost a decade, but I got into the pairing, then I started jotting this down and it really did run away with me.
It became a lot angstier than I meant it to be, originally I was gonna write a bit of emotional angst and peace out (which is my m.o., but don't real my old fics, theyre trash)

A lot of sids feelings are derived from my own, it's not 1:1, but definitely inspired by my own thoughts and experiences, tho I'm not as stone wall and punky anger as sid is. probably why i have a dificult time making him angsty enough.

also the chapter count is an estimate, i have a pretty solid outline, but i havent finished writing it so i may add a chapter or 2, on that note if you notice any mistakes please let me know, i'd appreciate the (polite) heads up.